sharangapani

[sharangapani]

@friend-shaped-but had another reference for me so here’s Vishnu and Lakshmi

Ref: below cut

[sharangapani]

@sambhavami's Devayani and Madhavi posts have brought back my obsession with them. I've reblogged and rambled in the tags endlessly, however between these and the Sharmistha post, I keep making myself miserable by thinking about Shukra. Poor man, he tried his best, you can tell, but his best is never enough. Not for his side to win decisively against the Devas, not for his wife/lover to remain with him, not even to save his daughter.

Like. The whole story starts because he sees a beautiful woman and gets together with her, and they have a daughter, and for a while they are so, so happy. And then he's realises, oh, I'm running from my duty to my people, and wants to return, but Jayanti his wife will not come, not when she of the Devas (the enemy, the enemy), not when she loves her father, not when her father is the king of gods, able to come down on them like a ton of bricks.

So she leaves. But no matter, he has his daughter, and it's not a consolation, it's a whole trophy. If this separation was a battle he has already won (it wasn't supposed to be a battle between them). He calls her Devayani, so she knows she might follow the path of her mother's people, so she has something of her mother even if he cannot give her Jayanti herself. Which is fine. She's sweet, she's beautiful, she's growing up fast and he loves her. It's not as well as can be but it's not all bad.

And then Brihaspati's son shows up. He's not even bad, is the thing. Shukra can be unhappy with his closeness to his daughter if he had any tangible evils but he doesn't. The Danavas kill him anyway, and his daughter comes begging and he sees at once what the gods want, knows that they will get it. It takes three tries. Shukra would be angry at his daughter's infatuation, but Kacha turns her down, and no greater punishment may be rendered by Shukra's hand.

Her grief turns to simmering rage and bitter pride. She quarrels with her friends, and speaks ill words to a companion who tongue has as many knives as her own. She is hurt, she is rescued, and now she weeps at the city gates, asking "Are you a sycophant? Are we beggars? Leave me here, if that is so."

"No," he says, "we are not. I will see you are compensated."

The compensation is a girl enslaved.

Shukra keeps failing.

His daughter finds another man to chase, and for a while Shukra is happy, because this king loves her, and there are grandchildren to dote on, and he has warned Yayati away from Sharmistha while asking him to care for her in the same breath.

And yet love makes traitors of all men, and Devayani returns to him in tears. He should not have been surprised. He too was once a traitor. That guilt is his rage, and his rage is blind, and he curses.

"Father," Yayati says, "how can your daughter be happy when I am old? What woman wants her lord unmanned?"

Shukra cannot take back the curse, but he can offer a caveat. Yayati leaves. He hears of the outcome from others, the change in inheritance. He looks out to the path outside his home. Devayani does not come again.

She is happy, he tells himself. She knows to come to me if she is not.

The thought is not as convincing as he would like it to be.

Devayani does not return.

Hope dies last, but hope dies as well, and Shukra leaves. From the corner of his eye he sees a girl by the side of the road, her face turned away. The curve of her chin reminds him of a distant dream, but when he looks closer, she is gone.

.

.

(There is a girl in the forest, bedecked in jewels.

Jayanti! He almost calls. Devayani!

But no, it is not them. A maiden remarkably of their appearance, but not them. Not his daughter, not his wife.

"Who are you?" he asks anyway.

"Madhavi, daughter of Yayati," she says, and tells her tale, and Shukra thinks he will never know the end of this bone-deep grief, of Devayani's sorrow.

Jayanti, he thinks despairingly, even now, even after so many years. Jayanti, what do I do?

Jayanti is not here. Madhavi is, though, so he asks her, "What do you want?"

"To live," she says. "To be like them." She points at the herd of deer running past. "To be free."

Shukra wants to shake her, to demand she tell him who gave her that stupid boon, so he can find them and curse them; he wants her to tell him to go slay the kings and her sons, to pull Yayati down from Jayanti's Swarga by his ankles and rip him apart, but he has asked her what she wants, and she has answered.

"I will show you, if you will it," he offers.

"I would be honoured."

Madhavi bows, and when she rises, she is princess no more. In her place is an ascetic to be, free as the deer, Mrigacharini.)

(Later, she gives her virtues to her fallen father, smiling, sending him to where her mother so dearly wished to go.

"He is my father," Madhavi says. "They are my sons. It is our duty."

There was once a woman who loved, whose sons did not honor their father as he willed. There was once a woman he loved, and she had a little girl, who grew up to have another little girl, and they were all the same.

There was once a man who loved greedily, viciously, clawing on to all he named his own. There was once a man whose hands reached out and took and took and took. And there was another who would take nothing.

There were so many men and women and he has lost count of them all.

Shukra turns away, unable to contain his bitterness. His little girl is gone, but Devayani remains anyway.)

[sharangapani]

@friend-shaped-but sent me a reference and I was like ykw.... Yea this is Urvashi and the Mitra-Varuna core

Alternate (clearer) version:

Reference below cut

[sharangapani]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Hindu Religions & Lore Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Parvati/Shiva (Hindu Religions & Lore), Parvati & Vishnu (Hindu Religions & Lore), Shiva & Vishnu (Hindu Religions & Lore) Characters: Shiva (Hindu Religions & Lore), Vishnu (Hindu Religions & Lore), Parvati (Hindu Religions & Lore) Additional Tags: Crack Treated Seriously, Weddings, Azhaga I love you that is why I must clown on you Summary:

Three different versions of Azhagar's arrival at his sister Meenakshi's wedding, from Sunderashwaran's point of view

[sharangapani]

got this suggestion from @friend-shaped-but and decided to draw Satyabhama and Krishna in this pose.

Reference below the cut:

[sharangapani]

Shrutakarma's Well Deserved Crash Out

Set on day 15 after Drona's death, BORI what BORI, this is HEAVILY based on BRC, inspired by This Clip and my monkey brain, contains dollops of angst, read at your own risk.

Shrutakarma had made a mistake coming into the main tent, he thought. But he was so, so exhausted and Keshav mama asked him to wait there until he got back. Father had been a wreck, that much shrutakarma saw. It took multiple attempts to hold him back from murdering someone and even as he walked back to the camp, father's eyes were bloodshot and murderous. Why were they murderous? Shrutakarma felt like the earth had been pulled out from under his feet, most of his family gone in a few short hours, grandfather, his uncles, his brothers- Father had no right to look this angry right now! He hadn't lost anyone today.

Keshav mama sat down on one of the chairs with a tired sigh, massaging his forehead with his hands. He seemed to be thinking about what to say, but finally, just as he was about to say it, father entered, a sword in his hand. Wonderful, Shrutakarma thought. It looked like he was going to lose yet another mama today.

Keshav mama ran to him, looking from his face to the sword in his hands. Then he did it again. Then he placed a firm hand on father's shoulder, a warning in his eyes. Shrutakarma released yet another long-suffering sigh. Was this how Shikhandi mama felt? Was this how jitu mama felt?

"I am going to kill Dhrishtadyumna!" Father seethed.

Shrutakarma rolled his eyes. He remembered the state of the camp not even three days ago, when soubhadra- Shrutakarma tried to chase those memories away, but the difference between how father expected to be treated and how he was treating mama was so stark, that Shrutakarma couldn't help but notice. And just then, the senapati entered the tent, along with someone else. Shrutakarma wasn't able to identify the second person, but he felt it was someone close to mama.

Father was actually serious.

Hadn't he lost enough? If Shrutakarma could cry, he would have.

"And what has my brother done, for you to decide that you are going to kill him?"

Mother. Mother was here. Shrutakarma let out a breath he didn't know he was holding in. She wouldn't let anything happen to mama, or to him. That he was sure of. Not that she had noticed him. He had perfected the art and craft of becoming invisible, and he was all the more glad for it right now.

"Panchali!" Father shouted, raising his sword, but stopping short.

"Oh, why did you stop?" She asked, her voice like steel, sharper than father's blade. "I'm just an obstacle in your path, aren't I? Remove me! To get to my Dhrishtadyumna, you will have to do that, you know,"

Father took a step back, and for the first time since that morning, seemed to actually think about what he was doing.

Mother pressed on, though. "I mean, it isn't like I am important to anyone in this family anyway. I am the same Draupadi who was dragged by her hair to the royal court of hastinapur, the same one who disrobed, while five brave warriors stood watching."

Shrutakarma felt his cheeks heat up in shame. Logically, he knew. He knew he was away in Indraprastha when that had happened, he knew he was a child, but such was the power of mother's words. When she spoke about what had happened that day, she could make anyone listening feel ashamed, whether consciously or unconsciously. He finally looked up, really looked at mother, and even though she wasn't really looking at him, he realized it was impossible to ever be invisible to her.

"And in that same court, your beloved teacher was there as well. You may not remember his presence, but I certainly remember his silence. It still rings in my ears. And when my son- my unarmed, injured, son was massacred in a way befitting only hyenas, he was the commander in chief that did it. He called the attack."

Mother finished what she wanted to say, her chest heaving and her eyes still fiery. Just then, Shrutasen entered.

"Aai, soma-"

And just then, her expression instantly changed. She scrubbed her hand over her face, and when she removed it, her eyes were softer. Still fiery, but now more like a hearth than a blazing yajnakunda.

"I'll be right there," She said softly, and adjusting her saree, she quietly walked out.

"You're a coward, aren't you, Dhrishtadyumna? To not only kill Acharya that way, but to hide behind your sister?"

Shrutakarma got up with a start. "Oh, lay off, will you!" He shouted, sick of his father's behaviour. "For someone who just lost his son, one would think you'd have more sympathy for mama! I just lost all my remaining cousins!" Shrutakarma's shawl flew about as he gestured outside the tent, where the bodies were kept.

"I should have sent you to a gurukula, maybe you'd have learnt to respect your elders then," Father shot back.

"Oh come on, for all that you are getting heated up about your guru, you won't let me say a few words in support of mine?"

"Now I've had it, Dhrishtadyumna! You've turned my own son against me!" Father's voice broke. Shrutakarma could not find it in him to care.

For the first time since mama had entered the tent, Shrutakarma looked at him.

His hair was dishevelled, the vein in his temple throbbing as if it was going to burst. He looked frenzied, frantic, far from the picture of composure he usually was. For all that people spoke about the Parshata's anger, he had realized that it was a contained, quiet sort of anger.

Mama hadn't raged and yelled and cried when his sons died. He hadn't made loud oaths, hadn't wailed and wept. He had simply gotten down from his chariot, quietly walked through the bloodied, muddied battlefield, unsheathed his sword, and beheaded the killer. It was clean.

Only two pieces for his charioteer to load back into the chariot and take back to the camp. And Shrutakarma didn't know whether to laugh or cry at father's audacity and wild, wild accusations.

"You did that yourself! Don't you remember? When we met each other, you- you walked right past me! Alright, forget that, you tried after that. But then, I came to check up on you, two days ago, and you- you literally asked me who I was! You didn't even recognize me! Do you have any idea how that made me feel? Oh, of course you don't, for all you do is just go on doing whatever you want, uncaring of the consequences!"

"Shrutakarma, my dear, I did not mean it in that way when I said that one should act without being expectant of the results! In fact, it is the opposite. Acting without caring about the consequences and acting without being attached to the results are two very different things,"

Shrutakarma had never felt so annoyed with Keshav mama until this moment. "I did not know you were a part of this conversation,"

"And I did not know you were. I mean, I thought this was between your father and Dhrishtadyumna,"

"And? If someone had come after father, arguing with him after soubhadra died, wouldn't you have defended him?"

"Because I am the same age as him! You are a child!"

"Am I a child when there's nothing childlike left in me?Am I a child when I go out and see the same things you do? Why am I a child now, when we both do the exact same thing out there? You never treated soubhadra like a child, and I am three years older than him!"

Keshav mama was left speechless. Shrutakarma realized he truly did not have any argument.

"Madhav is right, you-" Father swallowed, a little bit calmer. "What is just and unjust is a complex topic, and what your uncle did was-"

"I dont recall you killing Jayadrath fairly!" Shrutkarma burst out, pushing past the lump in his throat, his eyes welling up with tears.

"B- but that's different! He is the reason my son got killed. He-" Father spluttered out, not noticing that Shrutakarma was almost in tears by now.

"If you recall, Prince Arjun," Mama said in a deathly quiet voice. "Senapati Drona wasn't just the aiding and abetting the killers when my family died, but he himself was their killer. Forgiveness, as you very well know, does not come easy to us. I was simply avenging my-" he swallowed, breaking off. "seven brothers, four children, and of course, my father."

How was mama able to stay afloat when he had lost so much, Shrutakarma wondered. He did not think he would have stayed that composed. He shut his eyes tight to ward off the tears. He breathed heavily and finally turned to face Arjun.

"You aren't old enough to remember the time your father died! But everyone who raised me is dead! And- and until this moment, I held out hope! I thought, at least I have my actual father, instead of all the people who raised me. I thought- I thought I should be grateful!" Shrutakarma's voice shook and wavered, and he hated it. He hated that he seemed weak in front of him. He paused for a moment, getting his bearings and said with the hardest tone he could muster, "I realize now, I made a mistake."

Father seemed to be caught off guard at this, dropping his sword to the ground and staring at him, dumbfounded.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Keshav mama walk out of the tent.

Shrutakarma finally took a long, deep breath, and tried to hide his tears as he went out to find his brothers.

From the clink of the armour, it seemed mama had followed him as well.

TO BE CONTINUED........

[sharangapani]

[sharangapani]

Reaching you....

A gift for @blorbo-brainrot-time

[sharangapani]

[looking at a canon/fan ship] yeah theres no romantic explanation for this sorryyy :3c people who are romantic dont look at each other like that wow they are such good friends/qpps!! do you think they hold hands and keep an eye out for each other and hug? do you think they text each other every day reminding each other to eat? childhood crushes to friends am i right :D

[sharangapani]

psa

[sharangapani]

attempting to atheistify the ancient tribal sun worshipper but the more scientific sun facts i tell them the more hyped they get about the sun

[sharangapani]

As the kingdom’s best archer, you were cursed so your arrows would never hit again. But you just started shooting other things—rocks, sticks, shoes—and somehow, it works even better. Folks call you "The Arrowless Archer."

[sharangapani]

because we're writing-brained we think of french words as having "silent letters" which are sometimes "not silent" when followed by a vowel in the next word (liaison). but of course a french child is not learning their basic vocabulary from reading, theyre hearing the words and mimicking. and i guess the human brain is just totally willing to accept that sometimes a given unit of meaning has an extra sound at the end, depending on what comes before or after it. i mean i know phonology depending on environment is one of the main linguistics things but its weird to see it so *discrete* and *explicit*, its not just subtle influence, its a whole consonant popping up out of nowhere.

the general term for this kinda thing is sandhi, american english lacks it but apparently the british have it re: rhoticity sometimes. but r is weird. so idk if it counts. anyway sandhi includes general influence from outside words and im much more interested in the sudden appearance of a phoneme, it's weird to me that our minds are okay with storing two phoneme-strings for the same word. maybe in some sense one really does think of the phoneme as "always being there" and just being silent most of the time

[sharangapani]

Meditating on his Makara Kundala

[sharangapani]

so many shitty pickup lines in tamil but not a soul to tell them to :/

are you a writing tool because ur my favorite பெண்.... are u grass bc i wanna புல் you closer....... ive gotta ask you for the time ஏனா நீ தான் என் கண்மணி....

*sighhhhhhgggggggehrhrbejjahrbebrvrjrhbeb*

[sharangapani]

happy birthday to my son kal (im actually a day late)

he means a lot to me... i love him. also Technically this is the major reveal of the title of my work.. "kalki chronicles" was fun but "age of kalki" fit more thematically plus it's also an answerable question like "age of kalki? oh he's in 20s. yeah forever aged 25 idk"

process + alt description under the cut (ALSO very useful if you have no idea who anyone is bc i don't know if i ever talk about my little guys a lot outside of discord and instagram)

ALT ID START: A wide picture with three focal points. In the centre, bisecting the left and right hand sides, is Kal, who stands with knees bent in a slight crouch, wearing golden armour and gripping his broadsword tightly. His hair is blowing towards the right. There is a determined look on his face. Directly to Kal's left is Kalika Devi, a four-armed goddess who looms over the left hand side of the image. The scene is painted in reds and blacks, showcasing Kalika's billowing black hair, spear in her upper left hand and a sacrificial bowl of fire in her lower left. Her face is tilted upward, where some short distance from her face is a smaller figure of Kal, in the air with his sword raised to strike. Directly to the right of Kal in the centre is a bust of Chandran Dev superimposed over a blue background, who is looking towards the bottom right and is crying. His tears have melted through the silvery mask he wears, and his light purple hair billows upward. Tear droplets fall below his face, close to the bottom right corner of the piece, where the words "AGE OF KALKI" written in white are superimposed over the red Tamil equivalent "கல்கி காலம்" ('Kalki Kaalam'). ID END.

if you made it this far, you get a meme <3

ALT ID START: This is a redraw of the "who knocked over my onions / YOU" meme. The original message is along the top edge, edited to be "WHO KNOCKED OVER MY WEAPONS", written by user "sharaba @\who-is-sharaba". The second message has an image attached. Instead of the usual cat being grabbed by a person, the image has been redrawn to have Kal being pinned to the ground by a grey scaled hand over his throat. Kal has a nosebleed and a bruised right eye, and his hair is spread all around his head. He's staring at the viewer in shock and anger. END ID.

[sharangapani]

Trust me

Dhrishtadyumna had finished his morning rituals and was walking back toward the palace. The sand felt grainy on his feet, and his hair was still a bit wet. His wet clothes were thrown over his shoulder. He ran his free hand through his hair and sighed. The morning sunlight cast warm shadows on the palace walls. Shalaka vahini must be finishing up with her workouts(and his sons too, he thought absently). Shashi must have finished picking flowers for herself and be readying their breakfast.

One day at a time, one day at a time, he repeated to himself in his head as he finally entered the palace gates. In fact, it was only this week that he had begun waking up early again after.. After being wracked with fever for the past few days. He wasn’t even able to greet his nephews when they arrived. Well, what was done was done, and all he could do was make sure he could look his sister in the eye when she asked him if he was taking care of her sons and tell her that yes, he was.

On a stone seat in the garden, he saw his eldest brother meditating. His brow was furrowed, as it frequently was, these days, but he noticed the tranquility and patience Shikhandi had acquired over the years. He usually spent a long time meditating in the mornings, in the outer gardens. Something about not being allowed there as a child made him like the place more .

He walked further. And on the wall which separated the flower gardens from the orchard, he saw a small, dark figure, hunched over, head buried in his hands. Without making a sound, he crept up behind him. As he got closer and closer, he heard the boy sniffling. He sat down next to him, still staying quiet. Huh, his skills were abysmal. A good warrior would've been hypervigilant, noticed him jumping up onto the wall to sit there.

"Shatanik?" He finally rasped out. His voice was not meant for comforting nephews, it was meant for strategy rooms and battlefields, but he would make do. "Don't you have lessons?" he tried.

Shatanik glared at him with reddened eyes. "I'm supposed to have my lessons in INDRAPRASTHA!" he retorted. "With Vindhya and Soma and- mukta and- and Shrutakarma!" His breath caught on his siblings' names, but he continued speaking amidst his soft but ragged sobs. "You all are treating like everything is FINE! and- and NORMAL!"

"Well, what else are we supposed to do?"

"I don't know! I don't know, alright! How am I supposed to go to lessons and pretend like everything is fine when-" Shatanik finally looked up at Dhrishtadyumna, his big brown eyes filled with tears. "Everything I know is GONE! I don't know if I will ever get it back, my home, my- I miss mother and father." He petered out in a small voice.

"I know," Dhrishtadyumna said. He felt weird, what was he going to tell this child when he was just as much pain as him? He took a deep breath and thought for a moment. "But you know, you have parts of them within you. You need to reach for them. Take comfort from those parts of yourself." It sounded stilted and horrible, he knew, but- but speaking was difficult unless he did not want it to come out as an angry tirade. He had to consciously soften his voice, carefully word his sentences.

Shatanik gave him a dirty look. Shatanik held that stare for a long time. Dhrishtadyumna glared back. This was going nowhere.

"I miss deva kaka too," Shatanik said in a small voice. "And bheem kaka,"

Dhrishtadyumna's face darkened, but he fought hard to keep that frown off. Not in front of the children. Not now. Not in front of the children. He settled for resting a warm hand on Shatanik's back.

"One day at a time," he muttered, not knowing whether he was saying it to himself or Shatanik. "Time helps,"

Shatanik sighed like he was an old man.

"Wait- what you said about me having parts of my parents within me, what if I forget those due to time? I do not want to forget them- I want to burn their humiliation into my eyes and I want to avenge them and-"

"There is a way to not lose them, though."

"What?"

"Right now, all of those good things of your parents are hidden, deep, deep within you. It is all up to you whether you decide to let them fade, or let them grow."

"H- how do I let them grow?"

"You have potential, kid, don't let it go to waste," Dhrishtadyumna said flippantly.

Shatanik looked at mama, trying to comfort him even when he was clearly failing. But wasn't that what mattered? Trying? So he looked more carefully. If mama was making an effort to understand him, he should too, he guessed. Mama's nose was like mother's. Most of his face, actually. His hair was the same dark curly hair mother had, although less well-maintained. His arms were lithe, though, the same toned swordsman's arms father had. His knuckles twitched the same way father's did when his hands lay flat, itching to grasp a hilt. The same awkwardness father had, the same strength mother had. And the same love both of them had for him, he could see in mama.

"Do you trust me?" Mama's voice broke him out of his musings.

"Huh?"

"I said, I can help you be the best version of yourself. I can help you realize your potential. But I need you to trust me. Completely. I know it is not easy to do that, but-"

Shatanik swallowed and nodded. Dhrishtadyumna took Shatanik's small hand in both of his own, and squeezed it.

"I won't break it," He promised, his voice made of steel.