Princess Na’arvi arrived at Patali a fortnight ago. Before this, the furthest she had ever traveled was to Kundali in the Central Kingdom. Indraprastha was even further. It was her present home, but her eyes still saw it as something foreign. For the first three days of her arrival, all she did was weep. Na’arvi had never gone so long without seeing her folks. A fortnight later, the sharp pang of separation had turned into a dull ache, but she would still tear up from time to time when she found herself in a lonely corner.

At present, Na'arvi stood at the open window of her bed-chamber in the soft warmth of the morning sun, staring at the vast sprawl of the palace grounds and the green plains beyond. She had never seen so much green in all her eighteen years. Grasses, and shrubs, and plants, and fields. She saw them all from her carriage window when it brought her to Indraprastha. She even noticed strange trees, tall with leaves that looked like hands and fingers, coming out from the top. Rows and rows of those trees lined the roads of this kingdom, more so around the lakes that she caught glimpses of. Mayalapuram had few trees and fewer lakes. That land was as red and dry as this land was green and muddy.

There was a knock at the door.

“Yes.” Na’arvi turned to greet her guest.

The door opened, and a woman stepped inside, tall and regal. She was dressed in a blue silk robe, a lavishly weaved saree wrapped around her shapely contour, embellished with gemstones. Sunk in her grey hair was her bejeweled golden tiara that brightened the room, the gleaming reflections of its stones dancing on the walls as she moved her head. Hidden under her wrinkles was a face of legendary beauty.

“My regards, Queen mother.” Na’arvi offered her respects to the royal with a bow.

“I wanted to see how my child is doing before I leave for court.” The Queen Mother walked up to her daughter by law and gathered her in a warm maternal embrace. Queen Mother had always been generous with her affections. After King Mahendra passed away, Queen Mother acted as the Queen Regent on behalf of the prince until he reached adulthood. But the ruthlessness of the court had not hardened her soft core. “I would bring you with me, but I understand you already have arrangements for the day.”

“Yes, Queen Mother. I have accepted an invitation from some of the girls to visit the palace gardens. We would collect flowers for garlands and then attend the afternoon prayers at the South Arya Temple.” Na’arvi relayed her plans for the day with all the excitement of a turtle.

The queen gave her a sympathetic smile. “I know, Na’arvi, how you must long for your home in the South. When I left my people to follow King Mahendra to the west, I wept for weeks. I could neither eat nor sleep nor speak to anyone here. All I wanted was to go back. But as days went by, I began to know this place, the land, the sky, the people. I could not choose the soil, but I could nurture my seedlings in that soil which grew to become my plants and fill the garden. Now, when I look back, I still have fond memories for the place where I grew up, but this is the only home I know.”

Na’arvi smiled thinly at the tender words from the Queen Mother, but they did little to assuage her yearning.

“The Prince…..he has been kind to you, yes?” The Queen inquired.

“Oh yes.” And he had been.

Na’arvi had heard tales of conjugal savagery and braced herself for one ever since. But the first night they spoke on the subject, Prince Indra made it clear that he would not touch her against her will. She felt comforted by his words. They still made long nights of their banal but pleasant conversations, and neither of them would want to bid the other adieu. During the day, Na’arvi would create a mental list of things for their nightly discourse, while Prince Indra was busy tending to court matters. With every soft word spoken and every sweet look exchanged, Na’arvi would lower her guard a little bit, feeling bolder and even coy.

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“Then, I am relieved, my child. Join me at the court after your engagements if it interests you, though I must warn you it is more mind-numbing than one of your dreary walks down the garden path.” The Queen Mother quipped, drawing a smile on Na’avi’s lips.

“You underestimate those walks, Queen Mother.” Na’arvi offered, in jest.

The Queen gave a hearty laughter and then parted with another warm hug.

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From the window of her bed-chamber, the palace garden looked like a lush green carpet embossed with colorful patterns. Up close, Na'arvi's admiration only grew. The garden path was wide and paved and dotted with white rose plants on either side. Back home, rose plants were rare; here, they were in every direction. And the countless fragrant flowers would infuse the air with a floral scent. Beyond the row of white roses were rings of pink and lilac ones, partitioned by lines of yellow roses. In the center of each segment was a circular bush of red roses, furthest from the garden paths and most potent with the tantalizing smell.

Jui, one of Na’arvi’s companions, shrieked, wildly shaking her right hand.

“Jui, we have picked enough red roses. Leave those alone.” The other one, Sya, warned, tipping her flower basket a bit to show her their collection.

“Just this one. It is the biggest in the garden. We will offer it at Lord Arya's temple.” Jui insisted, reaching out with her hand one more time to pick the red rose. Once she safely tucked it in her basket, she returned and presented it to Princess Na’arvi. “Princess, do you not think it is appropriate for offering at the temple?” The companions, two of them, always tried to keep the Princess occupied with mundane conversations whenever they saw her face grow gloomy, which was often.

“Yes.” Na’arvi agreed without giving any thought.

She proceeded to sit on a nearby bench, legs somewhat tired from the promenade.

“Are you unwell, Princess?” The younger one, Jui, asked, sitting beside her.

“No.” Her words were dry and meager, and her gaze was fixed at a distant Royal Poinciana tree. “What is that tree, Jui?” Na’arvi asked, trying to distract herself with chitchat.

“Ummm…” The younger companion stumbled.

“Oh, she would not know.” The older one, Sya, patronized. “You should ask me about the plants and the trees here. The red one over there? It is Gulmohar tree, Princess. Isn’t it exquisite? Looks like a tree on fire! They say it is medicinal, too!” Sya happily proceeded to discuss a few more trees as the three resumed their stroll.

There was the other medicinal tree, Neem, which had bitter but powerful leaves, and then there were the ancient basil plants that they worshipped. But they were only a few of them scattered among hundreds of rose bushes.

As the threesome traipsed across the garden, they came upon a crescent-shaped pond with few sacred lotuses floating in it. These were the rarest species found in the continent, making them exotic even in the fertile land of Indraprastha. Its large and beautiful bright pink petals were tipped with a darker shade of pink. It was said to be the throne of Saraswati, the ancient goddess of knowledge and wisdom. That was thousands of years ago, the scriptures said.

After the last cycle of Four Ages, the tenth Avatar of Lord Vishnu cleansed the Universe and handed over its command to the Great Lord Shiva. In the process, all Gods lost their corporeal and divine forms and perished, including Great Lords Brahma and Vishnu. Saraswati, too, was one of them. Only the all-powerful Shiva survived. Sometime later, he resurrected Lords Brahma and Vishnu to restore the Holy Trinity. From the power of the three, a new Universe was created. Now, a novel generation of mortal men populated it, and a different clan of immortal gods commanded it.

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