The clouds had begun to gather and shrouded the afternoon in darkness.
It is said, that the Goddess Prsni, in the likeness of a cloud agreed to bear the seed of the powerful God Rudra. Out of that seed were born, the impetuous Maruts. Strong at birth, they mounted their celestial chariots and sped through the heaven and earth. Such was their utter abandon, their recklessness, that no team of goats or horses could possibly drive their chariots. They streamed forth, brilliant, at their own pleasure, unstoppable, even the mighty mountains heeding to their will. The other celestial gods watched the descent in awe - hail, the glorious, all conquering army of Indra!
The rain lashed at everything in its wake. The Ahichhatrans sought refuge inside their ill-equipped homes. But, despite the apparent threat and obvious inconvenience, they bore no grudge. After all, the torrent was but a manifestation of the Maruts and in any case, the rain would nourish the grazing lands.
They descended armed with glittering lances, a swelling band with time, so powerful that they united the separate realms of heaven and earth.
The downpour had now swelled into a torrent and the rain bore the look of a sheer wall of water. So much so that the sun had been blocked out completely and for a while, the sky and earth seemed united as one. And every once in a while, as the sun tried to break free, its light reflected off the huge rain drops, glittering as a well polished stone blade attached to the end of a lance.
Intoxicated in their own strength, they make their way loudly roaring, announcing their presence and intimidating their adversary at the same time. And along with the celestial gods, there stood the beautiful, bright Rodasi, right besides them, watching her heroes in flight and fight.
The sky lit up to the crackle of lightening, followed by a fearsome thunder that sent a stab of fear to the heart of even the most brave soldiers of Ahichhatra.
Ensconced in the relative safety of his home, Bhumanyu, did not allow himself to be distracted by the downpour outside. His mind was focused on the preparation for war and they had made good progress. Now that the rains were here, very little would get done. However, the rains would not deter him from insisting the army keep their training going. He had heard accounts of the exploits of Indra and his Marut cohorts in ancient times. He would use these to motivate his troops as well.
Vadhryasva was by the banks of the river before the deluge began. He had been reminiscing about beautiful Menaka. As the rains came down, he stood his ground, bearing the brunt, hoping, the water would help wash away his thoughts...
In far away Vrindavan, Virshika welcomed a drizzle with much delight. Through the summer months, the act of waiting was driving him mad. Crafty Bharadvaja, knew this to be one more weapon in his armoury - the long wait would mentally wear down the Vrcivans and he was sure to meet a Yadu force, tired in their minds.
At a non-descript location, outside the pale of the Arya territories, far away to the east, near the Ganges river, a visibly pregnant woman struggled to make herself comfortable. The old man besides her, reached out to help.
War was a few months away, so was the day when the woman would give birth to the special child growing inside of her.
Notes & References
Who are the Maruts?
It is said, that the Goddess Prsni, in the likeness of a cloud agreed to bear the seed of the powerful God Rudra. Out of that seed were born, the impetuous Maruts. Strong at birth, they mounted their celestial chariots and sped through the heaven and earth. Such was their utter abandon, their recklessness, that no team of goats or horses could possibly drive their chariots. They streamed forth, brilliant, at their own pleasure, unstoppable, even the mighty mountains heeding to their will. The other celestial gods watched the descent in awe - hail, the glorious, all conquering army of Indra!
The rain lashed at everything in its wake. The Ahichhatrans sought refuge inside their ill-equipped homes. But, despite the apparent threat and obvious inconvenience, they bore no grudge. After all, the torrent was but a manifestation of the Maruts and in any case, the rain would nourish the grazing lands.
They descended armed with glittering lances, a swelling band with time, so powerful that they united the separate realms of heaven and earth.
The downpour had now swelled into a torrent and the rain bore the look of a sheer wall of water. So much so that the sun had been blocked out completely and for a while, the sky and earth seemed united as one. And every once in a while, as the sun tried to break free, its light reflected off the huge rain drops, glittering as a well polished stone blade attached to the end of a lance.
Intoxicated in their own strength, they make their way loudly roaring, announcing their presence and intimidating their adversary at the same time. And along with the celestial gods, there stood the beautiful, bright Rodasi, right besides them, watching her heroes in flight and fight.
The sky lit up to the crackle of lightening, followed by a fearsome thunder that sent a stab of fear to the heart of even the most brave soldiers of Ahichhatra.
Ensconced in the relative safety of his home, Bhumanyu, did not allow himself to be distracted by the downpour outside. His mind was focused on the preparation for war and they had made good progress. Now that the rains were here, very little would get done. However, the rains would not deter him from insisting the army keep their training going. He had heard accounts of the exploits of Indra and his Marut cohorts in ancient times. He would use these to motivate his troops as well.
Vadhryasva was by the banks of the river before the deluge began. He had been reminiscing about beautiful Menaka. As the rains came down, he stood his ground, bearing the brunt, hoping, the water would help wash away his thoughts...
In far away Vrindavan, Virshika welcomed a drizzle with much delight. Through the summer months, the act of waiting was driving him mad. Crafty Bharadvaja, knew this to be one more weapon in his armoury - the long wait would mentally wear down the Vrcivans and he was sure to meet a Yadu force, tired in their minds.
At a non-descript location, outside the pale of the Arya territories, far away to the east, near the Ganges river, a visibly pregnant woman struggled to make herself comfortable. The old man besides her, reached out to help.
War was a few months away, so was the day when the woman would give birth to the special child growing inside of her.
Notes & References
Who are the Maruts?
