point of view – Page 2 – Amrit Panigrahy

As per the King’s order

“You are hereby commissioned, by the King’s order, to build the largest monolithic statue of our Lord, Shri Ganapati, from the large boulder that is marked by the royal flag, on top of the Hemakunta hill. On completion of this order, which can not exceed three years, you will receive a grant of five villages and the adjoining fertile land from the royal court.”, read the King’s messenger from the order signed by the King himself, as the master sculptor Narasimhulu listened in disbelief.

The messenger went on, “You can employ your own artisans for this order, and all such artisans will be on the payrolls of the royal court. Should you fail to execute this order, this same order will be passed on to your elder son, and you will be convicted of disobeying the King’s order and will be tried of high treason.” That was almost 3 years back, and he had gladly accepted the offer, not that he had too many choices at that time. In all these days, the statue of Lord Ganapati was only half done. With the King’s deadline expiring only a fortnight later, there was no way the order could be executed now. The King had already gotten a temple built around the half-finished statue. And Narasimhulu could not afford even a minute mistake, by increasing the pace of the work.

Knowing he could never complete the order in time, Narasimhulu asked all the artisans to leave. He locked himself inside the temple with the half finsihed statue and decided to starve himself to death.

He prayed to Lord Ganapati, asked for His forgiveness as he was leaving the statue unfinished. In a day or two he fell down in the corner, weakened by lack of food. He thought his end was near and he was hallucinating, as he saw a figure, much bigger than a normal human being, working on the unfinished statue with a chisel and a hammer. Other than his size, all Narasimhulu could notice was his larger than usual ears. He couldn’t see the face of the unknown sculptor, as he had his back to Narasimhulu at all times, and he was himself very weak to walk up and find out.

Meanwhile, in the outer world it was the day when the King’s deadline ended. The King came with all his courtesans and the royal family and found the temple doors locked from inside. He ordered the doors to be broken.

Narasimhulu, very weak from starvation for days, could faintly hear the sounds of heavy objects hitting the temple door from outside. When he heard the door open, he gathered all his energy and opened hi eyes. As light entered the temple, he could see the faces of the statue of Lord Ganapati.

Narasimhulu could see that the statue was complete, as per the King’s order.

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any person living or dead is purely coincidental.

In frame: Kadalekalu Ganesha, a 4.5 meters tall monolithic statue, located in a temple on the Hemakunta hill, in Hampi, Karnataka, India.

VERY IMPORTANT TO NOTE: Yes, you can share this work with proper attribution. But, please seek permission before using this work (not including the photo), partially or fully. YOU CAN NOT USE THE PHOTO. Believe me, asking is better than ending up in court or facing public shaming on social media. Thanks for understanding.

108 days that mattered

Lucky Max!

I had a friend called Max. His father was a very rich man, with a lot of money. So, on Max’s 21st b’day his father gifted him a jet plane. When Max saw it, he was very happy. As always, he threw away the user manual and got into the cockpit, and after a lot of trying, he could make the jet plane move on the road. Happy with his new found love for “driving” the jet plane, he would “drive” his jet plane to college, to meet friends and to nightclubs.

Lucky Max! Would you like to be like Max? Who wouldn’t want a rich father gifting a jet plane on birthdays.

If you think about it, we are all Maxs “driving” our jet planes around. Without understanding true potential, we “drive” around in our jet planes, rather than figuring out what the jet plane is actually capable of. The jet plane being the body and the mind.

I am talking about Yoga. But wait, isn’t Yoga about physical exercise?

Yoga is the answer

Honestly, I did not know what the question is, though! And I am glad that I did not know the question. Be it physical, metaphysical, mental or spiritual, all the roads in these dimensions converge and emerge from Yoga. Yoga or Yog in Sanskrit means “to add” or “to join”. What are we adding or joining? I will get to that.

Basically, there are four forms of Yoga. Yeah exactly, four. The Yoga you see in TVs is called “Kriyayoga”, and as the name suggests it is a set of actions. And these actions activate certain points in your physical and subconscious self. Then there are Bhaktiyoga (devotion), Gyanayoga (knowledge), Karmayoga (duty). It is only when a person does all the four Yogas in some proportion or the other (yeah, individual requirements are different), that (s)he sets in motion the harmony (answer to what we are joining or adding, from above) that propel her/him towards a higher state of being.

What can you achieve by going to a higher state of being? Well, I can’t tell you more, other than the fact that the view is nice from higher up. It will help you achieve control over things that happen to you and around you. It would mean your inner self is aligned with the outer being and the universe. You are part of everything and everything is a part of you.

My Yoga

In my case, in one way or other I was already doing the other three Yogas except Kriyayoga, subconsciously. In fact, we all do! And when I was suggested by good friend to add Kriyayoga to the mix, I gave it a try. And the results I have achieved surprise me. The results may seem insane to some. But again, sanity is a relative term. Sanity for some could be outright insanity for others.

The Kriyayoga that I do is called “Shambhavi Mahamudra”, taught by Sadhguru. I have done it for 108 days at a stretch, without fail. And I feel connected to myself and everything else around me like never before and that outcome itself is good enough. But, I am also exploring the capabilities of my body and mind (which are potentially limitless). And what 108 days these have been. Never in my life have I felt so empowered.

One piece of advice, though. Nothing undermines any form of Yoga more than doing Yoga with a specific purpose in mind. In fact, do not have any purpose at all. Let it do its own thing, and your transformation to another being will become possible in an infinite number of ways. But still, if you want to understand the tangible benefits that I derived from what I do, here are 10 of those:

Better sleep quality
Being endlessly energetic throughout the day
No need of external stimulants
Being happy all the time
Worry a lot less
Focus a lot more
Fall sick a lot less (like never!)
Observing an event from multiple point of views, simultaneously
Sharper intuition

And last, but not the least, and my favourite one at that,

Manifesting people, events and things into my life

But again, these are just the side effects, and changes that I have observed just at the surface level. The real achievement stays at a much much deeper level, and very personal at that.

When should you start?

Are you waiting for that bad time at office to get over to start Yoga? Are you waiting for your personal life to be sorted to start Yoga? May be you think you are too young to start Yoga? May be you think you are too strong to start Yoga? May be you want to experience “everything” before you embark on this path? Are you too cynical and think yoga doesn’t really help?

Well! I was waiting for that bad time to get over. I was waiting for my personal life to get sorted. I thought I was too young and strong to start Yoga (yes, I did!). I wanted to experience “everything” before I embarked on this path. And I was too cynical and really believed that Yoga doesn’t help. And, I realised that I had lost precious time thinking these. I don’t know if the things that worried me are at satisfactory level at present, because they really don’t bother me anymore.

Also, it is only wise to learn to pilot the jet plane and take off as soon as possible, rather than driving it around endlessly. No?

So, here is wishing all of you a healthy and content state of being.

Keep calm, do Yoga!

Please note: I do not have any intention of being a yoga teacher. But I can guide you to one of the best in the field. If you are keen, just drop me a message or a comment below.

In frame: My Gyanamudra

Love story 1 – Act I: Of bad tea, and good coffee!

He made his cup of morning tea, and sat down to work on his blog. “I make awesome tea”, he thought after taking the first sip, taking pride in his tea making capabilities. He wasn’t yet done basking in his pride, he heard her voice, like every time.

And like every time, this time too her voice said, “You make horrible tea!” Lest she knew, that whenever she was around, all his attention was focused on her, and not on the tea, that he was making. And he would eventually end up spoiling the tea, every single time.

But, he had his moment of glory. It was a long two months wait for him, since she had changed her job and moved cities. When she was with him, she was a part of everything he did, every plan he made, knowingly or unknowingly. Though he had been preparing for her move, it was still painful. And after two months, he paid her a visit.

“You make good coffee!”, she said as she sipped from her cup. “Why the tea you made was atrocious every single time, when I came down to your place”. He had taken special care not to screw up the coffee this time. Giving it all the attention, even her share of his attention. And received an appreciation for it, from her, one person he valued the most. They just sat there, sipping coffee, the coffee he made. He was going back, with promises of returning soon.

That was a year back! One long year. It is strange how things normalise or seem so, over one year. Memories are in black and white they say. The only colour he could remember was that of the stain of her red lipstick on the cup.

And, only if he had known that he was seeing her for the last time, he would have screwed up the coffee too.

**END OF PART I**

Wondering what happened to her? All in good time, my friends! You got to wait for the next part, right?

Let’s call it “A tough call!”…..

/Disclaimer: A work of fiction. Any resemblance to any character living or dead is purely “coincidental”./

In frame: Moonmoon Sharma, a good friend and a talented model.

Dome Diaries – Epilogue

Dome Diaries Navigator – Prologue || Part I || Part II || Part III || Epilogue

When I first thought of visiting Bijapur and started doing my “research”, I was fascinated to find out how the Adil Shahis of Bijapur stayed sovereign for the two centuries, during which a great churning of power was happening across our counry. It was the same two centuries when Vijayanagara to the south, the Marathas to the west and the Mughals to the north were vying for control of the same piece of land.

Image: Epitaph of Mohammed Adil Shah, as seen from the balcony seven storeys high, inside the Gol Gumbaz

The things that the Adil Shahi dynasty got right, the things that they got wrong, some pure chance and some meticulous planning. Through this series, I have tried to cover everything that I thought mattered, as far as history of India is concerned. This visit opened up more questions than it actually answered, mostly pertaining to the Marathas. This will mean travelling to the Maratha land, which makes me excited. In due course, I will plan and visit, and whatever happens thereafter, rest assured you will read them here.

Also, customary vote-of-thanks time now! I stayed in “Maurya Adil Shahi” during my visit to Bijapur, a property owned and operated by Karnataka State Tourism Development Corporation (KSTDC). This place had a cordial and helping staff, food was okayish. I was not in Bijapur for food, anyways. KSTDC gives guided tour of Bijapur, for a price. However, I chose to pick a guide on my own. And this is where comes Jehangir, my guide in Bijapur, a learned chap and a patient guide, who answered almost all my questions. And given his hold over Indian history, I had a good time discussing history with him. If you are planning a visit to Bijapur, and looking for a guide, do get in touch with me for his number.

That’s it! Hope you enjoyed the series. And as I plan and cover more of this land, you will get to hear from me, ermmm.. read from me.. Whatever! You got what I wanted to say.

Ciao!

Dome Diaries Navigator – Prologue || Part I || Part II || Part III || Epilogue

In frame: Epitaph of Mohammed Adil Shah, as seen from the balcony seven storeys high, inside the Gol Gumbaz, in Bijapur, Karnataka, India.

Sees it all!

“Chaka aakhi sabu dekhuchi”, is a popular saying in Odia. Which translates to “Lord Jagannath sees it all”. Chaka in Odia means round, Aakhi in Odia means eyes. Notice His round eyes.

When I was in Puri last month, I had mentioned that I was planning to visit Puri during Rathyatra. Well, here is a secret! I was not planning, I had actually promised Him. 26 years were too long a gap, you see. You can read about my last month’s visit here.

Reached here in Puri, just in time to see the annual outing of the Gods, the Rathyatra of 2017. Saw Him gracefully moving towards his chariot (we call it Pahandi in Odia), with his crown (called Tahia in Odia) moving back and forth as He moved. I was quite far off when this was happening, at least couple of hundred meters, may be more. But as He appeared out of the temple main gates, the atmosphere was filled with cries of His name all around. And guess what, I am the first person from my whole family to witness it happening in front of my eyes (as confirmed by my father).

He sees it all!! — Lord Jagannath on a devotee’s t-shirt as he plays his Gini (a traditional Odia music instrument).

The energy on the Grand road (called Bada Danda in Odia) was so much, I saw people dancing for hours (you read that right!) to folk songs from all over Odisha, as well as to the tune of drums (dhol and mridang) and khanjanis (see picture to know what it is). It was like a rave party from another age. And it was as if they were drawing their energy from an eternal source, may be it was Him as He smilingly moved towards them on top his chariot. Because, what I saw there today is not humanely possible. You got to see it to believe it. And boy, was it overwhelming for me. Add to it all the people around (my estimate is half a million, at least), a perfect recipe to get disoriented (in a good way), call it trance!

There were a lot of traffic restrictions all around the town, so I walked all the way, and the last few kilometers were barefoot on the beach as the waves played hide and seek. By the time I reached back at my hotel, I must have clocked 15 kilometres, all in a days walk.

Now, as I sit in my hotel room and write this, I was thinking. How about I bring to you all the tales, legends, facts and stories about Lord Jagannath, that I know? Also, how about stories of Konark? You know that the construction of the Sun temple in Konark was related to events that unfolded in Puri, right?

So, let’s call them “Jagannath series”.

Signing off from Puri, land of Lord Jagannath!

In frame: Lord Jagannath on a devotee’s t-shirt as he plays his khanjani (a traditional Odia music instrument). You can see Him anywhere you want. You just need to look harder. And He sees you, all the time.

Dome Diaries – Prologue

Dome Diaries Navigator – Prologue || Part I || Part II || Part III || Epilogue

There, a brief but bright lightning far away and on my right side. One more, this time slightly closer and in the front. And as I press the accelerator, dry leaves fly on to my path and get illuminated in front of the headlamps. The winds are picking up and I can feel the crosswinds on my steering wheel. Most probably an end of summer thunderstorm. It has been dark for some time now and this stretch of road is narrow, as it passes through a reserve forest. Bad time and place to get caught in rains!

And my desk phone rang. It was the client. Damn! I was day-dreaming, again, lost in my thoughts as I stared at my desktop monitor. As if I had been teleported to one of the scenes from my recent solo road-trip.

A scene which looked like this!

This happens every time I come back from a trip. As if my heart stays outside the city limits, and refuses to come back in with me. And then, it keeps calling me to get out on my next trip!

This one was a long weekend road-trip. Long weekends are meant for travel, because I have recently realized that sleeping is too lazy. I realize things late, like thirty-odd-years late. Anyways, I thought of taking Pearl (that’s what I call my Scorpio; and yes, it is perfectly normal behavior!) out to stretch her legs a bit. And when you take a Scorpio out to stretch its legs, the most important thing it needs is leg room. My Pearl is no different! I decided 400kms one side was just enough leg room Pearl would need for stretching. So, Bijapur it was!

For starters, Bijapur (presently known as Vijayapura, in Karnataka, India) was the erstwhile capital of the Adil Shahis, one of the five Sultanates that the Bahamani kingdom broke into. It will not be an exaggeration if I call Bijapur as the “City of Domes”, because of the hundred odd small and big domes that dot the city’s skyline.

I have been reading about history of ancient and medieval India for some time now. It fascinates how (un)related events of India of the past that shaped up the India of today, are (conveniently) ignored by our history books. Few weeks ago, I had written a small piece on drawing parallels during medieval India, and called it “Drawing Parallels”. You can read it here.

The reason I chose Bijapur was because of the role it played in our history that shaped our present. After all, Adil Shahis of Bijapur stayed sovereign for two centuries. The same two centuries when Vijayanagara to the south, the Marathas to the west and the Mughals to the north were vying for control of the same piece of land.

Join me in a series of posts titled “Dome Diaries”, in the coming days. I will try to comprehend the later Adil Shahis of Bijapur, and their fascination for grand mausoleums, architectural marvels that are Gol Gombuz and Ibrahim Rouza, discover their religious inclinations (Adil Shahi rulers came from both sides of the Muslim community – the Shias and the Sunnis), and if possible, also their diplomacy and military might.

Dome Diaries Navigator – Prologue || Part I || Part II || Part III || Epilogue

In frame: A narrow stretch of empty road lit by my car’s headlamps and shot on mobile (No! I was not using the mobile while driving). This stretch of road was between Kalaburgi (Gulbarga as it is presently known), Karnataka and Hyderabad, Telengana, in India.

Arsalan’s last prayer

The instructions were very specific. The client wanted the knife to be extra sharp, and dipped in deadly poison. Just to be doubly sure. So that, even if the knife didn’t kill him, the poison definitely would. And it had to be on a Friday, a day Arsalan devoted completely to his God, a day he didn’t touch his weapon and wore no armor.

Arsalan, a warrior of Persian decent and a Muslim, was a general in the Vijayanagara army, Vijayanagara’s chief military strategist and commander of its famed artillery and cavalry units. A middle-aged battle hardened man, he had won many battles for Vijayanagara, with his unquestionable loyalty to the King, his valor and strategies.

He was born in Persia to an unmarried woman and was left to his own fate after his mother died. While fending for himself in the streets of Isfahan, he had heard tales of a place called Hindustan. After having saved enough, he traveled to Hindustan at the age of thirteen, and was hired by a Turkish noble as a help. Few months later, his master had taken him in a hunting expedition. This is when a Lion sneaked in to the camp on one night. He killed the lion with nothing but a knife, and he was just fourteen. This is from where he got his name – Arsalan, Turkish for lion. And he never looked back from that day on.

A man without any family, Arsalan used to be a hired hand till few years back, a commander of a group of merceneries with their loyalty only to the highest bidder. He fought many battles on the side of the highest bidder, saw many atrocities being committed in the name of religion, and God.

During his last assignment as a hired hand, he was to join the forces of the Sultan of Berar, who was mounting an expedition on an empire of infidels to the south, the Vijayanagara empire. It was on a Friday that the battle was fought. Arsalan, had never in his entire life seen such brave soldiers, the soldiers of Vijayanagara. Arsalan killed hundreds of them and they still kept coming. At the end, the army of the Sultan of Berar was defeated, and every single one of Arsalan’s merceneries were killed and he himself was grieviously wounded. Left for being dead, he was rescued by the soldiers of Vijayanagara and was taken to the capital Hampi for better treatment of his wounds. He was impressed by the fact that the Vijayanagara had citizens from all faiths, including Muslims – and was not an empire of infidels, as was being portrayed.

When he recovered, grew stronger and was ready to leave, the King requested his presence in the court. The King, who himself was impressed by Arsalan’s military tactics earlier, asked him to join the Vijayanagara army as a general, and promised him religious freedom, among other things. Arsalan couldn’t deny the offer being made by his savior. Arsalan also took a vow that he will not pick up his weapon on Fridays, as a mark of respect to the brave soldiers of Vijayanagara he had slayed on the same day, in the earlier battle.

His presence in Vijayanagara army meant that Sultan of Berar couldn’t win even an inch of land to the south. So, the Sultan had hired an assassin to get rid of him.

On that fateful Friday, while coming back from the mosque, the assassin in the guise of his bodyguard, stabbed him in the neck. Even before he could know what had happened, Arsalan was on the ground. He could see the mosque at a distance, the mosque which his infidel King had ordered to be built for him.

Slowly, the voices around him faded and he slipped into darkness…

That was the last prayer Arsalan ever offered!

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any person living or dead is purely coincidental.

In frame: A low angle of the mosque inside the palace complex, in Hampi, Karnataka, India.

VERY IMPORTANT TO NOTE: Yes, you can share this work with proper attribution. But, please seek permission before using this work (not including the photo), partially or fully. YOU CAN NOT USE THE PHOTO. Believe me, asking is better than ending up in court or facing public shaming on social media. Thanks for understanding.

The Ascend

The wheels of the royal ceremonial gold chariot screeched to a halt on the gravel road behind the Mahanavami Dibba. A well-built dark skinned man, in his mid-twenties, climbed down from the chariot.

A masculine face with neatly trimmed moustache, but the cut on his left cheek which ran almost the full length from just below the eye, looked fresh – a parting gift from a beloved enemy, perhaps. Laden in gold jewellery that were studded with precious stones of all sizes and colors, he wore a bright pink angavastram made of silk and a white silk dhoti. He wore a turban made of yellow silk, and attached to it was the royal pin, which had the largest diamond of all. In his right hand he was holding a precious stone studded gold scabbard, and inside was the sword that whole of the subcontinent bowed down to – the Sword of Vijayanagara.

Standing below the flight of stairs inside the royal entrance at the back of the Dibba, the new King looked up to the portion of the blue sky that was visible. The royal trumpeters on top of the Dibba blew the trumpets, announcing the arrival of the new King of Vijayanagara. The chatter among the crowd stopped. Then the drummers started beating the big drums across the palace complex, in a rhythm. And the crowd started cheering – “Long live the King! Long live the King….”

“Doesn’t anyone remember what happened in last one month leading up to today?”, the new King asked himself.

The new King was the eldest son and heir apparent to the throne of Vijayanagara, and was the most capable. He had been groomed to be the King, right from the day he started walking. He was trained to be the best in sword fight, archery and hand to hand combats in the whole of Vijayanagara empire. And he was well conversant in the Vedas, Upanishads, Gita and Chanakya’s Arthashastra. For the last two years, he had been fighting the Moslems in the north, and had subjugated two Bahmani Sultanates. It was in last one month that everything changed, for better or for worse. The old King took ill suddenly, and was killed in his sleep by one of his younger sons, the new King’s half-brother.

This is when the new King had to ride back to the capital city of Hampi, to confront his half-brother, and to claim the throne that was rightfully his. The situation had changed completely while he was away. Most of the old royal staff had been replaced with loyalists of his half-brother. He knew that his half-brother wouldn’t dare to touch him in broad day light. He confronted him in the palace courtyard, with a handful of his father’s loyalists.

This is when the confrontation turned physical. His half-brother took out a dagger and took a wild swing. He leaned back, but couldn’t move completely away from the dagger’s path, and it sliced him on the left cheek and the wound ran almost the full length from just below the eye. In one continous motion, he took his dagger out, pushed it deep in to his half-brother’s throat, killing him instantly.

Then began the clean-up act. For next two weeks, all the loyalists of his half-brother were either killed or jailed, eliminated systematically. He didn’t stop until everyone of them who had helped his half-brother had been punished. That was the last one month.

As the new King stood below the flight of stairs pondering, the Rajguru touched his shoulder and signalled politely that he should ascend and show himself to the world, to show the world that everything was in control. The King nodded his head and agreement and thought, “Doesn’t anyone really remember?”

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any person living or dead is purely coincidental.

In frame: The sky from below the flight of stairs, inside the back entrance of Mahanavami Dibba, inside the palace complex in Hampi, Karnataka, India. Mahanavami Dibba was used as a platform by the royals of Vijayanagara to watch the Dussehra celebrations, as well as on special royal ceremonies.

FRIGHT

“It is not advisable to stay here after dark. Please wrap up fast.” The guide said in the courtyard of the old palace as he collected his fees, and started walking towards the gate.

Being a photographer, she did not have any business staying there after dark. Photography is a tale by light, after all. But this time, it was different. This one was her first major complete wedding shoot, and the couple she was shooting could help her get more clients. She had just this one day for the pre-wedding, before the bride and groom got busy with the rituals from their respective sides. Without enough resources to hire a help at such a nascent stage of her career, she was doing everything on her own. And whatever help she had in the form of the guide, she didn’t have anymore, as the guide’s shift had ended.

As the sun reached for the horizon, she got some amazing frames of the couple during the golden hour. Within no time, the sun had set and the light was fading fast. Happy with the results, she called it a day and asked the would-be husband and wife to wait in the car outside, while she packed all the equipment and props. She thought the couple would enjoy some quiet time together, which was very hard to find just before the marriage. And meanwhile, she could put her thoughts together on how she would cover the wedding, while packing up in silence.

The conversation between the couple gradually turned into a murmur and then into a whisper, as they walked out of the gate in the front. That’s when the eerie silence of the old palace started to grow on her. The silence was intermittently being broken by the flutter of the pigeons’ wings as they settled for the night, and also by the shrill sound of the bats as they prepared for the night’s feast ahead.

She was almost done packing as she had her back to the closed door on the other side of the courtyard. Suddenly, she heard running footsteps from behind the door and the pigeons and the bats fell silent. And it turned so quiet that she could hear her blood rush through her veins. Unable to understand what was happening, she quickly packed rest of her stuff and was getting up when she heard heavy footsteps approaching her from the door behind, the same door she saw was closed few moments ago. She froze, stood there and the footsteps got heavier with each step, as they approached her from the back.

She had almost all her blood drained out, when the would-be groom walked in to the courtyard from the gate in front of her. Apparently, she had forgotten to give the couple the car keys!

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any person living or dead is purely coincidental.

In frame: A door on the left side of the open space behind Bibi ka Maqbara, in Aurangabad, Maharashtra, India. Bibi ka Maqbara is the mausoleum of Dilras Banu Begum, first wife of Aurangzeb. She was buried under the posthumous title of Rabia-ud-Daurani”. A low angle, the monsoon clouds and the fading light all added to the drama of this frame.

In pursuit of immortality

“What is the price that you are willing to pay for immortality, Sultan?”, asked the Fakir.

“Whatever it takes, Oh Learned One! I have everything I need, except immortality. And immortality it is that I want”, replied the Sultan.

“Why do you want immortality, Sultan?”, asked the Fakir.

“Because one life time is not enough to spend all the wealth I have. And, because I want to enjoy all the good things that the world has to offer.”, replied the Sultan.

“What will you do once you have spent all your wealth and enjoyed all the good things that the world has to offer, dear Sultan? Because, it will be you who will be an immortal! Everything else comes with an expiry date. What will you do?”, asked the Fakir.

There was silence in the room…

The Fakir broke the silence and said, “But, I have a way to make you an immortal. You may die, but you will live on, through your deeds. You have so much wealth, utilise it to help the people in need. And as the head of the state, make sure that justice prevails. Be a peoples’ King, Sultan! That way, you may die, but you will live on in the heart of your subjects.”

It was a summer afternoon, and as the Fakir walked out, cool breeze entered the room. It was a sign of changing times. The Sultan had finally found a way to become an immortal.

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any person living or dead is purely coincidental.

In frame: The tomb of Sultana Ahmed, wife of Bahmani Sultan Ahmad Shah-Al-Wali in Ashtur village, near Bidar, Karnataka, India. The Persian blue tiles on the upper reaches of the tomb are very well preserved, having stood the test of time for close to six centuries.