Love, Seasons, and Dreams

By Chander

Prepare to be enchanted by "Love, Seasons and Dreams, a captivating journey through illusions, reality, and time. Follow the tale of Sage Bhargava's ancient curse upon Princess Maya and her lover Paras, destined to be reborn and torn apart in an eternal loop. Fast forward to the present, watch Manu and Maya fight their way to stand a chance agai

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ukiyoto Publishing
• Release date: Jul 31, 2023
• ISBN: 9789361724206

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Love, Seasons and Dreams

Chander

Ukiyoto Publishing

All global publishing rights are held by

Ukiyoto Publishing

Published in 2023

Content Copyright © Chander

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in a retrieval system, in any form by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher.

The moral rights of the author have been asserted.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated, without the publisher’s prior consent, in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published.

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Dedication

In loving memory of my LATE FATHER, who always believed in my talent, even when he knew that my middle school stories were Shakespeare rip-offs.

To my wonderful wife, Kavya, who embarked on this crazy adventure with me, armed with endless patience and unyielding support. Thank you for being my rock, my cheerleader, and the one who didn't mind living with a sleep-deprived writer, fueled by caffeine and driven by words.

My fantastic editor, Trixie, deserves a special mention. You took the tangled mess of my random scribbles and weaved them into a magnificent 90,000-word novel.

And my friend Ganesh for motivating me to explore my creative side when my career as a software professional became stale. Through out this book I have made tributes to the personalities who inspired me.

So, here it is: a book dedicated to those who believed in me, who supported me, and who fueled my imagination. Though you might not find your names on the cover, know that your spirits dance through every chapter, every sentence, and every word.

Contents

Part 1: The Beginning—The Lives of a Few

One More Light

A Blessing from the Stars

A Grand Design

Part 2: Another Life after a Million Lives

A Great Space Odyssey

Seasons Change, Men Don’t

Whispers from the Past

A Cosmic Realignment

The First Dance

Fractured Dreams and Unspoken words

A Dance Of Hearts

Part 3:  Time: Love’s Unforgiving Foe

The First Rule is, You Don’t talk about it

Cops and Rules

No words Exchanged

The Misfire

A Visitor from Faraway

Two Bodies, One Heart

A Love at Crossroads

A Dream Under the Green Sky

Love No More

Part 4: Goodbyes are Forever

A Trip Gone Bad

Earth Stops at 88 Miles

No Quotes for Separation

The Virus Victory Lap

Alladin's Lamp

The Door

Part 5: Love – The Only Power in Universe that Defeats time – With a little dose of Science

A Chance that comes Only twice

A Glitch In the Matrix

The Past has a Story for the Future

New Age Transmission

A Ghostly Reunion

The Lost Traveler

The Inversely

The Desistance

The Day the Clock Stopped

A Whole New World

Epilogue: A Tribute to the Master

About the Author

Part 1: The Beginning—The Lives of a Few

One More Light

                                For Many Lives to Come.

I

t was a time of great legend and lore, a time when Mother Virtue stood tall and proud, her two feet firmly on the ground. It was the time when the majestic Sagarmatha peak, its slopes dusted with snow, rose up to the heavens, yet it was still but a shadow of what was to come. A time when the mighty Saraswati river flowed with all the force of the gods, nourishing the northern valleys. It was a time when the divine Lord Chandra Narayana watched over the land from his celestial perch a little closer to earth, when two young soldiers rode along the banks of the Jhal-am river, braving the rugged beauty of the Kasmira valleys.

As the two riders approached the stream of the Jhal-am, they could see their own breath in the air. The icy wind bit at their noses and fingers, making them wish they had dressed more to protect themselves from the cold. But the enchanting songs of the birds, the majestic trees, and the wild music of the jungle kept their spirits high. Even the horses seemed to dance and sing, their excitement noticeable as they caught sight of the rushing water. The sun was setting behind the snow-capped mountains, painting the sky with a breathtaking blend of saffron and blue as the last rays of light filtered through the clouds. The view was so mesmerising and beautiful that it left the riders in awe. They couldn't help but feel a sense of wonder and appreciation as they took in the natural beauty around them.

One of the soldiers, a tall man with a thick beard and dark eyes, dismounted from his horse and walked over to the stream. He cupped his hands together and scooped up some of the icy water, bringing it to his lips and taking a long drink. The cold water was refreshing to him and helped to clear his head after a long day of riding.

Another day wasted. We are never going to find him, he said.

The young rider atop his horse, with a warrior’s charm and a face glittering like gold, looked at him and continued to sing the same song he had been singing for some time now as he looked at the soldier with his piercing blue eyes.

"In shadows deep, where darkness creeps,

An ordinary gripped by fear it keeps,

The king, so cruel, conquered three realms wide,

People trembled, cowered by his tyrant's stride.

Bow down they did, before his might,

The goodyear king, a blight in sight,

Imprisoning gods, their powers held at bay,

The rain and sun locked in chains' dismay.

In chains they writhed, in anguish and plight,

Their hope extinguished, lost in endless night,

The ordinary despaired, its spirit worn,

As chains grew tighter, their souls were torn."

Can you stop it, Paras? My ears are on fire. You've been belting out the same tune for hours now, the soldier groaned.

Time flies by, brother, when I sing about this great man, Paras replied.

For two weeks we were searching for him, but there isn’t a trace of him. Now I wonder if he is the man of a myth, just as people say, the soldier said, a hint of frustration in his voice.

We are close to finding him; perhaps we will do so in a day or two. But isn't it ironic that no one has seen him in ages, yet they all sing his glory from the vast oceans to the majestic mountains of the north?

Glory? All I heard was how cruel a demon he was.

Paras chuckled while still atop his horse. You think he's just a cruel demon? That's just one facet of the story. He dismounted from his horse and said, I've only sung the first verse of the epic ballad about him, the one about 'The Deeds of the Cruel Demon.' But there's more to the story. The second verse is about how the demon was defeated and the world was saved. But first, let's get a fire going.

As the night loomed gently, Gnana gathered the maple wood from his horse and arrived under the tall fig tree to build the fire. A tired Paras drank the cold water from the stream and joined Gnana to enjoy the warmth of the fire after a cold, tiring day.

What’s his story? What does our king want from him? Gnana asked.

Paras seemed to sense Gnana's desire for a story, but before he could begin, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a pouch. He emptied a handful of tiny seeds onto his palm, then mixed them with a bag of leaves and ground them into a fine powder. With a daring glance at Gnana, he snorted the crushed seeds before continuing.

Is that opium? Gnana asked, his voice tinged with concern.

Yes, Paras replied nonchalantly.

Why do you take it all the time? Don't you realise the dangers of being lost in this dense, dark forest? Gnana pressed, his eyes fixed on Paras.

The king’s most trusted spy needs fuel to run his brain, and this opium is the elixir to his soul. Look around at the babbling stream, the twinkling stars, the flickering fire, and these majestic trees. Listen to the birds singing and the soothing sounds of nature. Is there a better place to be? These few seeds will not only make my body shake, but they'll also make my senses dance. Why would I pass up such a treat? Paras, said Paras, singing the second verse in a loud voice. 

"With dark, flowing hair and a blade of steel,

He bore grace and generosity, a noble's ideal,

None could compare to his masculine pride,

Quick-tempered yet devoted, he stood by your side.

On a pure white steed, a legend he became,

A day of reckoning, his fate aflame,

The cruel king's demise was close at hand,

Hail the charming prince, the sage of the land.

Bhargava, son of Vishala, his name renowned,

With wisdom and valor, he wore the crown,

In his presence, hearts were touched and swayed,

A hero emerged, in glorious light displayed."

What happened to him? Gnana asked, his eyes filled with curiosity.

Once he fulfilled his purpose by slaying the demon king with his celestial weapon, he ascended to the heavens and was immortalised among the gods, Paras replied with a hint of reverence in his voice.

Gnana's brow furrowed. Then why are we searching for him? he asked, turning his gaze to the fire.

Paras' eyes gleamed with determination as he gazed into the fire, the effects of the opium starting to take hold. The flames before him danced and flickered. So they say, he murmured, but I don't believe the heavenly story or his immortality. He should be out here somewhere.

Paras looked into it deeper, mesmerised by the dancing flames. A sudden gust of cold air ripped through the camp, rustling the leaves and silencing the birds. Gnana's hands shook as he watched the towering figure emerge from the darkness, sending shivers down his spine. He frantically gestured to Paras, trying to warn him, but it was too late. The opium had already clouded his senses. Ganaa alerted him again. Realising that something is behind him, Paras reaches for his sword, but his hands are too slow. Before he could even grasp it, a gravelly voice spoke from behind him.

The sky was closed. To the mountains he went to seek penance for his sins.

Paras recoiled in alarm as he turned to face the intruder. But what he saw before him was not what he expected. There stood a peaceful and revered holy man, his forehead marked with sacred ash and clad in a flowing saffron robe. A scabbard was tied to his wrist, a bow was slung over his shoulder, and a holy pot was cradled in his right hand.

The sight of the man was both reassuring and mysterious, leaving Paras to wonder what kind of person he was and what had brought him here to this remote campsite in the dead of night. He just stood there, unable to look away from the holy man's aura of peace and power.

Who are you? Gnana asked as his voice quivered.

The Kshatriya Sage Bhargava, said Paras, and he fell at the sage's feet, seeking his blessing.

Ayushmaan Bhavan, the sage blessed.

Seeing the kshatriya sage, the man he was tasked to find, the man who was considered a myth, Paras was too intoxicated to give a proper welcome to the sage. Paras collapsed at his feet, unable to move, knowing that this was the moment he would always regret. Sage Bhargava, realising what had happened, helped Paras back to his feet and asked Gnana about the circumstances.

We have been entrusted with the task of finding you, Maharishi, and we are here to extend a humble request on behalf of our king. He invites you to join him in the green lands of Medava, where he is currently camped for his royal hunting excursion. It would be an honour to have you in our midst, and we hope that you will accept our invitation with grace and kindness, Gnana said.

So be it, said Sage Bhargava.

A Monarch’s Intent.

As the dawn of a new day broke over the sacred lands of Medava, whispers of the sage's arrival spread like wildfire through the camp. The King of Uparisyena, His Royal Highness Maharaja Harshavardha, was filled with excitement at the thought of welcoming the revered Sage to his camp. He raced to the entrance, eager to greet the guest of honour himself. Meanwhile, a troop of over 500 men stood in formation, ready to pay their respects with a grand display of honour. The first minister stood by the king's side, their eyes fixed on the eastern horizon as they waited with bated breath for the arrival of the sage. It was a moment of great significance and importance, which the first minister promptly reminded the king about.

Oh! The wise Maharaja, Sage Bhargava, is our only hope, the minister said, his voice gently ringing in the midst of rustling leaves and chirping birds. The fate of every man, woman, and child in the kingdom of Upariseyana hangs in the balance. The people rest their trust in you, my King.

The king, a seasoned warrior of 70 years, surveyed the lush forest around him. First Minister, Sage Bhargava, is indeed a man of great respect and honour, he said, his voice filled with reverence. Though he is known for his grace and kindness, it is said that his rage can be just as fierce. He has dedicated the last 30 years to serving the cause of goodness, and I have no doubt that he will remain unwavering in his commitment to doing what is right.

However, the king continued, a hint of uncertainty creeping into his voice. I must confess that I have my doubts about whether he would be willing to be confined to a life of menial servitude rather than continue to serve the greater good.

Your Majesty, the minister said, stepping forward. It is of the utmost importance that we make our wishes known at this time, for our options are indeed limited.

As the minister spoke, the king caught sight of a lone rider galloping towards them through the ravine. The rider's steed shone with the luminous glow of a thousand suns, and the rider himself seemed to radiate an otherworldly light. His eyes blazed brighter than the morning star, and his bearing was regal and commanding. Behind him, many miles away, Gnana and Paras could be seen slowly making their way towards them on a tired and weary horse. It was clear to the king that this rider was no ordinary man, and he knew that he must listen closely to the words of wisdom that he was sure to bring.

With the utmost humility, I welcome you to my camp, Guru, said the King, bowing deeply. You are truly the greatest of the Brahmans and the Kshatriyas. Your wisdom and knowledge are unparalleled, and I am honoured to have you here with us today.

The sage smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. May you and your kingdom reap the benefits of good health and prosperity, he said, his voice ringing with authority.

The sun was shining brightly in the clear sky, casting a warm glow on the grand tent that had been set up in the centre of the camp.

As the King led the Sage Bhargava inside, the scent of incense and the sound of soft chanting filled the air. The interior of the tent was richly decorated with silk tapestries, gold accents, and cushioned seating. The king gestured for the sage to be seated on the throne-like chair, which had been specially prepared for the occasion.

King Harshavardha realised that he was in the presence of greatness. The sage was a veritable embodiment of strength and charm, with the physique of a warrior, the grace of a prince, the wisdom of a philosopher, and the poise of a rishi.

Oh! Great Guru, it is our pleasure and honour to serve you, said the King, his eyes shining with excitement. You are our royal guest, and we consider it a privilege to host you in our camp. We are at your service, ready to do whatever we can to make your stay pleasant."

Maharaja, I am greatly pleased to receive your message, said the Sage, his voice deep and resounding. As a man, it would be unwise of me to ask favours of a king, but as a sage, it is my duty to safeguard the earth and all of its beings from the unknown evils that lurk in the shadows.

The king listened intently, his eyes fixed on the sage. He knew that the sage was a wise and powerful figure, and his words carried great weight.

To that end, I request your assistance in arranging a great yagna with 1008 homa kundalas in this forest at the next Poornima, which is two days from now, continued the Sage. It would bring me great joy and satisfaction if this demand could be met, and I am grateful for your consideration in this matter.

The king was humbled by the sage's presence and bowed his head in reverence. He signalled for his imperial guards to fulfil the sage's wish.

I call off my entire hunting expedition, said the king, his voice ringing with determination. I choose instead to serve Sage Bhargava with the utmost dedication.

The guards sprang into action, working tirelessly to get everything ready for the grand yagna. They got the things they needed, made the homa kundalas, and got the offerings ready for the holy ceremony.

Two days later, Sage Bhargava stood tall and resolute before the blazing homa kundalas, his every movement infused with unwavering devotion as he performed the sacred yagna. The battle-hardened guards, temporarily transformed into priests for the day, attended to his every need with the utmost care. As the clouds above released their life-giving showers, the sage declared the yagna a resounding success, a sight that brought great joy to the king's heart.

King Harshavardhan, your service has pleased me greatly. You must now make a wish that your heart desires, and in the name of him who resides in the sacred mountains of Kailash, I promise that it will be honoured. What is it that you wish for, my dear king? Do not hesitate to speak your heart's desire, for it shall be granted, he said.

The King stood before the Sage with great respect, bowing deeply as he revelled in the peerless joy of knowing that this was not just a simple hunting expedition but a journey to seek out the legendary Sage and entice him with the unparalleled hospitality offered by his first minister. And now, as the time had come to reveal his cunning plan, the King couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement and determination coursing through his veins. He knew that this was a moment that would shape the future of his kingdom.

Reverend Guru, I lived my life to the fullest. Now it is time for me to retire gracefully. My son, the crown prince, is too young to rule. He would need proper guidance to lead his people to prosperity. Maharishi, I request your hand in marriage for my only daughter and to rule in my son’s stead until he comes of age. Please guide him in his rule of prosperity and progress and protect us from the external threats that have promised to plague our kingdom.

King Harshavardhan's request caught Sage Bhargava by surprise. The sage, known for his wisdom and knowledge, weighed the proposal carefully before responding. The forest around them was alive with the sounds of nature as they stood in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. He realised the king was trying to tie him down for selfish reasons. Sage Bhargava felt his own words had imprisoned him, but he kept his composure and remained silent.

Oh, greatest of men, please accept this request to be part of my family and be the pita maha for my son in his rule. My pleasure would be boundless if you could grant this boon to me.

The king's request echoed in the air, ringing across the still forest where the sage and the king stood. As the king waits for a response, the sage's piercing gaze seems to weigh the gravity of the situation. Despite being caught in the king's trap, the sage's unwavering wisdom and devotion to his vows prevent him from declining the request.

The silence in the forest is only broken by the sound of the wind rustling through the trees and the occasional chirping of a bird. The sage stood tall and proud, his long beard rustling in the gentle breeze. The king, on the other hand, is filled with a mix of excitement and nervousness as he eagerly awaits the sage's response.

Rise, Harshavardhan, the sage finally says, his voice steady and strong. It would be unfair for a father-in-law to bow before his son-in-law.

With the morning sun casting its golden rays over the kingdom, the king couldn't help but feel a sense of jubilation wash over him. His troops, too, were overjoyed, breaking out into cheers and whoops of delight. Even the animals, sensing the festive atmosphere, joined in on the celebration with roars and playful dances. It was as if the sun itself was blessing this momentous union.

I accept this proposal, but heed: I’m a rishi, and I shall not spend a day inside the palace. The princess would have to bequeath her royal life and live with me in my ashram as a rishi-patni.

The monarch enthusiastically agreed.

The jubilant King, his heart overflowing with joy, dispatched his fastest knights to announce the news of this union to the capital and to prepare the city for the grandest of welcomes for his future son-in-law. Days later, the monarch and the sage arrived at the capital, accompanied by the full splendour of the royal guard of honour. Over 1000 war elephants, resplendent in their ornate trappings, stood at attention on either side of the road, while over 5000 knights, their horses galloping in perfect formation, paid their royal salute. This was followed by a vast contingent of infantry and the elite super squads, all bowing in reverence to their king and the esteemed sage as they rode into town in the royal chariot.

At the city gates, they were greeted by a massive parade of artists, all gathered to celebrate their arrival. The air was filled with the sound of melodic singing, accompanied by the proud strumming of sitars and the rhythmic beating of tablas. The dancers swayed to the tunes, leading the way for the king and the sage as they made their way through the city streets. It was a scene of great joy and celebration. The houses of the capital were painted, glorifying the legendary tales of Sage Bhargava. Young maidens showered flowers on the streets as the chariot made its way through them. The common folk gathered around to cheer the man who would marry their precious princess.

The entire capital was lit as they celebrated the grandest feast the city had witnessed in recent memory. Their princess' wedding was to the most charming person they had ever seen. It was only fitting.

He is the only one worthy of the princess’s hand, they declared.

To celebrate the event, the royal family distributed presents and sweets to every family in the capital. The king made sure that every household was joyful on the occasion, and so were the people. Everyone in the kingdom looked forward with joy to their precious princess's wedding, except for one. The Princess.

Her Hearts Desire.

The beautiful Princess Maya, fondly known as Mahalakshmi or the Goddess of Life, was the people's most beloved royal. They believed that it was her very birth that had brought prosperity to their kingdom, and they affectionately referred to her as Annapoorani, the one who feeds. It was no surprise, then, that she had no shortage of suitors—kings and warriors from across the land came to seek her hand in marriage. But despite their fame and accomplishments, none of them seemed to meet the standards of the princess.

Maya, known for her sense of adventure and valour, was a fierce warrior, a loving daughter, a curious philosopher, and a benevolent aristocrat, but she had one weakness. His name was Paras, the most artistic of the spies of King Harshavardha. A wanderer at heart, Paras ignited a fire within Maya, a burning desire to explore the vast expanse of the world by his side.

It was widely believed within the palace walls that a productive and prosperous day could only be had if the princess, with her kind and generous heart, offered her morning prayers to the goddess of life and nourished the earth with her offerings. It was a blessed ritual, one that infused the kingdom with hope and positivity.

Maya, offering a bunch of flowers at the feet of Goddess Devi, finished her daily prayers by saying,

Om Sarve Bhavantu Sukhinah, Sarve Santu Nir-Aamayaah |

Sarve Bhadraanni Pashyantu, Maa Kashcid-Duhkha-Bhaag-Bhavet |

Om Shaantih Shaantih Shaantih ||

May everyone be happy, and may everyone be free from all diseases. May everyone see goodness and auspiciousness in everything; may none be unhappy or distressed.

With a gentle smile, the princess handed the raw paddy seeds to a nearby maid. Scatter these across the earth, she said softly, her eyes sparkling. As the maid hurried off to do her bidding, the princess waited patiently, watching as the courtiers filed out of the room. Once they were all gone, the princess let out a small sigh and called for the queen, her mother.

What is this I hear, Mother? the princess asked, her voice laced with disbelief. How could Father do such a thing? How could he promise me to someone else when I have already given my heart to another? she asked.

As the king, your father knows what is best for you and your kingdom, the queen said, her voice firm but kind. And I can assure you, my dear, that he has chosen the most perfect husband for you. Trust in his judgement and have faith that this will work out for the best.

The princess was not convinced. But what about my desires? And what about Paras? I can't be a rishi-patni mother.

The arrangements have been made, my dear, the queen said, and your father will never accept a servant as his son-in-law.

The princess' voice was filled with anger. Mother, Paras was a prince until Father invaded his country and killed his family. Don't you remember that?

Do not speak such treason, daughter, the queen warned, her voice taking on a stern tone. Your father's actions were necessary to protect our kingdom. And as for Paras, he may have once been royalty, but his current status does not make him a suitable match for you.

But mother, I love him! The princess cried out, tears welling up in her eyes. I cannot imagine spending the rest of my life with someone else. It would be a fate worse than death!

Love is a luxury that you cannot afford, my dear, the queen said firmly. You are a princess, and you have a duty to your kingdom and your family. You must put aside your personal feelings and accept the husband that has been chosen for you.

I’m a princess, and I can make my own decisions. The queen sighed, with a hint of sadness in her voice. Maya, my dear, I understand this isn't what you want. But it's what the kingdom needs. Your father is a wise man, and he wouldn't make this decision lightly. The barbarians from the west are planning to invade with a massive army, over a million strong. We won't stand a chance against them. Can you imagine the horrors that would befall our people if they conquered us? Our women would face unspeakable atrocities, and our children would be reduced to slavery. Only Sage Bhargava, with his expertise in warfare, can save us. And this marriage is the only way to secure his aid.

But mother.

Please, Maya, don't make this harder than it has to be, the queen said, her voice pleading. It's in the best interest of everyone that you accept this alliance willingly. There's no turning back now.

The princess stood there, her heart heavy with the weight of her responsibilities. She had always