Aṇenī

The twins stalked the tiger from the tree branches, noiselessly jumping from branch to branch as the tiger confidently stalked a prey of its own. The sister was the archer, while the brother had his knife firmly grasped. It would take both the arrow and knife to bring the tiger down. They allowed it to walk further out, towards the forest’s edge where their guardians would be waiting, but the siblings wanted this kill for themselves. Their timing perfect in its unison, Prithu and Aneni unleashed their attack. Aneni shot an arrow straight to the tiger’s spine, and at the precise moment Prithu leapt to the ground. The tiger whelped in painful surprise when the arrow cut through its body, immediately silenced by Prithu’s deadly knife slicing across its throat. It bled out helplessly, and in its last moments it turned its indignant, twinkling eyes to the boy and girl who brought it down without any fair warning. The siblings exchanged a triumphant look before bending down over the tiger and examining their kill. “I will make a coat for you out of its skin,” said Prithu to his twin sister. She smiled in return, not mentioning that she had other plans with this tiger’s skin. That could be a battle to fight another day. Today, she was happy to have joined her brother on his hunt. Prithu proceeded to clinically skin the tiger, his young hands moving with practiced ease. The boy often boasted, not falsely, that he skinned his first animal at the age of seven. That was still something Aneni could not bring herself to do, though not for a lack of trying. She watched from a distance as her brother skinned the tiger and squeezed the blood out of the skin, before folding it into a neat wrap that he slung on his back. “Let’s go,” Prithu said to her, smiling his handsome, wide-cheeked smile while he wiped his hands clean on a rag. Aneni picked up the arrow that had brought the tiger down, and put it back in her quiver before following her brother towards their camp. Karnata was a new establishment, part of king Anena’s drive to expand Suryavanshi borders. Situated right at the Sindhu’s eastern bank, it looked across to wild Dasa territory, and would give view of any approaching force for yojanas around. Far behind the mountains that were at a distant west-view from Karnata, was the Dasa city of Harautii, the concentration of Dasa strength that hung like a shadow over the Suryavanshi kingdom. It was king Anena’s responsibility to take care of these troubles for now, but one day the burden would fall on Prithu. Aneni wanted to be by her brother’s side when that happened. *** In the dark cold of the night, it was Prithu who caught her. “What do you think you’re doing?” He hushed angrily, yanking the saddle off her horse. “Doing what you don’t have the courage to do!” She shot back in equal measure. “Harautii is barely three days' ride from here. I can be back at Kapisa within a month, with all the intelligence father needs to mount an attack at the Dasas.” In spite of his anger, Prithu had no reply to her bravado. He flared his nostrils and put his hand to his hips pompously, like their father. Finally he said, “Fine, but I’m coming too.” “What?” “I said I’m coming with you,” Prithu said. “How can I not, when you have brought my courage into question?” There was a naughty look in his eyes- the look of her twin brother, not of Prithu the crown prince. “Father will be livid,” she said. Prithu nodded. “Yes, but only till we are back. Then he will be too relieved to be livid.” *** She could not say when she got separated from Prithu. The riverside port at Harautii was nearly as crowded as any market back home, except that the crowd here was far more diverse. Aneni saw all colors and types of people, more than she even knew existed. There were men with the skin of night, from far, dark continents of forest and water. Others were the colour of milk, coming from remote islands whose names Aneni could not understand. Even Prithu, who was far more familiar with Dasa dialects, confessed that he did not recognize the language of these island-men at all. They exited a particular beads shop that caught Aneni’s eye when Prithu disappeared into the crowd ahead, and Aneni could not spot him anymore. It did not worry her much. She and Prithu had agreed to meet at a designated spot on a particular day, should they get separated, and it made sense that her brother would continue to look for her here - by the river-port. So Aneni continued to walk around the market, taking in Harautii’s sights and sounds. So far, there were all the signs of a military strong-post. The river bank was lined with tall, mud towers where sentries were posted, armed with sharp bows and arrows. Further away from the port were the barracks, and the twins managed to get close observations of it in broad daylight - for despite being heavily militarized, Harautii seemed to be living in a state of peacetime. Yet they estimated a size of at least six thousand men in Harautii’s army, which was excluding the various contingents of Dasa tribes that marched in and out of the city, clearly in allegiance to the ruling class. It was the ruling class that they were unable to identify. The Dasas had no kings among them, and were divided on various tribal and communal lines. Yet there was a stable truce among these tribes, and it was their peaceful co-existence that allowed cities like Harautii to flourish. Prithu explained to Aneni that this was one of the reasons that made an attack on Dasa cities so futile. *The ruling dynasty is the very spine of any kingdom*, Prithu narrated, *so an enemy with no ruling dynasty at all, has no spine we can break or bend. Even if we destroy Harautii it will not dent the Dasas, for it is not the home of any particular tribe, and would bring the end to no particular lineage.* Aneni disagreed with that. *Power is not held or transmitted simply by blood, Prithu*, she had countered. *There are warriors and contingents in Dasavarsha, which means that there are men who command them. Those men, in turn, would be loyal to someone above them. We simply have to find our way high enough in their hierarchy to see the pinnacle, to see the person or entity that holds the power that makes Dasas function and survive. I know there is one.* The weather at Harautii was slightly warmer than it was at Kapisa, yet the winds were as fierce and strong. The city was surrounded by imposing mountains on the north, east and south; and the river to its west provided the only route in and out of Harautii. This was something none of the spies had ever reported to king Anena, and Aneni knew that it would force a radical change in her father’s strategies. That was if he ever decided to attack the city. The rapid rise of the Somavanshi to the east of king Anena’s kingdom had forced the Suryavanshi into ever smaller territory. The Lunar kings had expanded their borders right up to the Iravati river, and the ancient Suryavanshi towns of Prasthala and Sakala now belonged to the moon-dynasty. From both Avisari and Vitabhya, king Anena was forced to look westward, where the ever-expanding Dasa tribes roamed across wild, untamed land. Aneni’s forays into the geography of her times was rudely disturbed when she was pushed aside by a crowd of men running to the river bank carrying a large, gleaming palanquin over their shoulders. Curious, Aneni followed them, but stayed out of their way like the rest of the crowd. The men approached a large, decked up boat that slowly rowed itself beside the bank, and a man threw a rope overboard. They placed the palanquin on the deck, pulled the rope and tied it around a post. Then they picked the palanquin back up, and held it low beside the boat. Aneni caught a glimpse of fair, golden feet before the crowd rushed ahead to greet the visitor. She was about to make her way into the crowd when her elbow was yanked from behind, and she turned to see the wide-eyed face of her brother. “Found you!” Prithu raised his voice over the crowd’s noise and shouted to her. The Suryavanshi crown prince was used to letting his sister be by herself, and he did not look as anxious as Aneni had expected. She gave him a big smile, and pulled him closer to the crowd. “C’mon, I want to see who it is.” Prithu resisted and pulled her back out. “No,” he said, looking at the Dasa soldiers milling around them, and then the sentries atop the mud towers. “Any of these men could have been at the battles around Kapisa, and they will recognize the face of the Suryavanshi crown prince. That man dismounting the boat could easily be a veteran commander.” Aneni raised her eyebrows at her brother. “Have you seen a veteran commander back home, brother?” She asked. “You would not find him getting off a boat made of gold.” But she followed him nevertheless, away from the crowd and towards the stables where they tied their horses. As they left the crowd and the river bank far behind, Aneni continued to hear chants and cheers in the name of “Zarath Ustra.” *** Once again it was Prithu who caught her, though this time he was lying in wait, ready for her to make her move. “You cannot do this, sister,” he said. “And who says that father can do what he wants with my life?” She replied hotly. But to her disappointment, Prithu replied, “This is the way of the land. Alliances are formed through marriage and trade.” “You speak as if the two are one and the same,” Aneni countered, jabbing angrily at her twin brother. At twenty, he had a big, muscular body sculpted through years of training and battle, both. “We need this peace with the Somavanshi, Aneni,” Prithu said gently, taking his sister’s hands into his. “This king Puru is said to be a handsome man, with the grey eyes of Soma.” Aneni scoffed in defiance. “He is also more than sixty years old! I am better off marrying any big Dasa warlord, it will bring us peace with their kind once and for all!” “What would you prefer then?” Shouted Prithu in frustration, his calm demeanour breaking for once. “I would prefer to choose the time, person and place of my marriage. Is that asking for too much?” The look on Prithu’s face clearly said that was not asking for too much, and for a while her brother did not have anything to say. Finally he said, “I will talk to father. We can delay your marriage for a few more years. In that time, I request you find yourself a mate from a good, powerful tribe. Puru’s son then, if not him. Is that asking for too much?” Aneni backed away at the sting in her brother’s voice, and through the shadows in the stable she saw not her twin, but the Suryavanshi king-to-be. She finally realized what Prithu was unable to say to her. An alliance with the Somavanshi was desirable not only to her father, but also to her brother- who would be king one day. *** The king’s long, fuzzy beard was peppered with streaks of white and grey, complementing his close-cropped salt and pepper hair. The beard jutted out sharply against his gaunt, bony cheek in meticulously cut angles; and dark, black kohl outlined his deep-set eyes. He looked at Prithu now with the stern eyes of a disciplinarian, the only eyes he had ever reserved for his son. “This is your fault,” king Anena said plainly. His deep, heavy voice piercing through Prithu’s guts. Standing right in front of his seated father and staring into his all-seeing eyes, he felt like a young boy again. “I have allowed her to lead a wayward life, openly in defiance of the norms reserved for women in our society,” the king continued. “Only because I have trusted that her brother will maintain our family’s dignity.” There was accusation in that tone, and Prithu had no words in reply to his father, especially because they rang true in his ears. It was at Prithu’s insistence that Anena first let Aneni accompany him on his hunts and scouting trips. When they ran away to Harautii for the first time, Prithu returned and directed all of their father’s anger towards himself, shielding Aneni from any blame. It was Prithu who convinced king Anena to give his daughter some more years before marriage, promising his father that he would see to it that Aneni found a suitable husband for herself. Letting his sister run away to Dasa lands was not part of that promise. “I will find her,” Prithu finally said, his voice crackling from speaking with a dry, nervous throat. “I will find her and bring her back to you.” King Anena scrutinized his son, wondering why the boy had taken after his mother so much. Prithu had only the hint of orange in his eyes, a shade that emerged when the boy was out in broad sunlight. His hair was nothing like Anena’s, nor were his other features indicative of Suryavanshi genes. All of the blood from Marici, Ikshvaku and Anena’s other glorious ancestors had gone to Aneni. And now this son had lost her. “You will bring her back to me, and you will marry her off to that Somavanshi king- Puru,” Anena said. “And do not return if you cannot fulfil any of those commands.” Prithu nodded and turned to leave, knowing that Harautii was where his sister would have headed first. As he left, he heard his father call out from behind, “You are nothing like me, my son.” *** The great king of the Suryavansha was in a rage. The kohl around his eyes was smeared and smudged, and his eyes themselves were bloodshot. His hair was in a frenzy and his beard uncombed. Without his armour he looked not like his ancestors, but the Rakshasas they once fought. Riders were hastily sent to the towns and cities - Navapari, Karnata, Dasarna, Harayupa and Vitabhya. King Anena had called the largest gathering of his forces ever, and eight thousand men were to assemble at Karnata, ready for attack on Dasavarsha. The Dasas had taken the king’s daughter, and perhaps his son as well, and the Suryavansha would not tolerate that. And yet the king burned not only because his children were taken, but also because he was betrayed by those he would have counted upon. The Somavansha had sent his messenger back, declining to add their strength to Anena’s push into the west. Their king Puru had always been arrogant and vain, but Anena had not thought him to be a man who did not understand honour. Let him rot in Pratisthana then, Anena thought angrily. He would take the war to the Dasas himself, and all the glory would be for the Suryavansha alone. Then he would stake his claim on all of Aryavarta, and see how Puru and his brothers could refute it. For a brief moment, Anena allowed himself to imagine a grand, unbroken empire stretching from Kapisa to Pratisthana and Videha. Then he forced his mind to the matter that stood before him. His daughter had been kidnapped by the enemy, and the Suryavanshi king would not brook this affront to his dynasty’s honour. Sumati stepped in at just that moment. Now old and hunched, Sumati had been a young, bright advisor to Anena’s grandfather, the old king Puranjaya. He had offered his sage wisdom to three generations of the Suryavanshi, continuing the unbroken tradition of Vasishtha rajpurohits. But he preferred not to use that venerated title, and stuck with the unassuming first name given to him by his parents. Title or not, his words carried weight, and Anena abided by his counsel on most days. Today would not be one of those days though, and Sumati knew it the moment he looked upon Anena’s frowning, tense face. But Sumati had to try, and he said, “Do not be rash, my king. Send your spies deep into Dasa territories, gather all the intelligence you can first.” The experienced martial-mind in Anena knew that Sumati was right, but for now his ego and anger held the better part of him. “Gather intelligence to what end?” He snapped. “They have my daughter, and for that I will destroy them. For all I know, they have my son too - the only heir I will ever have.” Sumati took a deep breath, chanting his favourite mantra in his head, and forcing his mind to be calm. Anena had always been his most difficult ward, his hasty and brash ways in stark contrast to the kings that preceded him. As a child, Sumati lived under the reign of king Puranjaya, and as a young man he became advisor to him. The Suryavanshi rajpurohit was in keen perception of the sad truth - that the Suryavanshi were at a decline. King Puranjaya, great as he was, could never sustain the glory that his father had brought. Suyodhana, Puranjaya’s son and Anena’s father, was of a lesser mettle than his father. And Anena, for all his sincerity, simply was not a king in the true sense of the word. “I do not counsel against that intent, king Anena,” Sumati said, careful to maintain the protocol at a time like this. On other days, and in private, Sumati could call his ward by his name. “I only advise that you carry out this attack with planned and meticulous stratagem. How many camps and garrisons do they have? What is the strength of their cavalry? How many leaders? These and many more questions must be answered, before you commit your men to this campaign.” Anena was silent, and Sumati knew that at least a part of the king’s mind agreed with him. But then Anena spoke with his heart. “They have my daughter,” he said in a coarse voice, “My beautiful, tender but brazen Aneni. I cannot let this pass, guruji.” Sumati sighed. Anena would not wait, he would amass his forces and march into the unknown, as courageous as he was unwise. In his mind, Sumati had seen the destruction of the Suryavanshi, their abandoned cities and dried up rivers. He interpreted them as visions of the far future, a subconscious reminder of the ephemeral nature of existence. Now the aging rajpurohit wondered if the visions were of a time far closer to the present. *** A sharp kick to his jaw brought him back to consciousness, and he struggled with the ropes tied around his wrists and ankles. “Wake up, mongrel,” a harsh, guttural voice shouted out. The same voice that delivered the painful kick. His eyes adjusted to the pain and sunlight, and he glanced up to see a large figure covering out the sun. Before he could react, the figure moved out of the way and direct sunlight flooded his eyes. As he closed them, cold water was splashed into his face, going up into his nose. He coughed and sputtered, spitting out blood and water. “There, feeling all fresh now, are we?” The figure taunted, and walked away to his guffawing friends sitting some distance away. Two weeks ago they had captured him, and each day was the same. They were taking him somewhere, but disoriented and bound as he was, Prithu lost complete sense of direction. For all he knew, they could be long beyond the Setumanta River, deep into lands that no Suryavanshi had stepped foot on, since Ikshvaku and his men. It was certainly a landscape unlike Prithu had ever seen - a pale, brown-yellow carpet of sharp, ugly cliffs and peaks. They meandered through the valleys on strong, steady horses, and Prithu saw more in the wild than were ever found anywhere in Aryavarta. They numbered in hundreds to a herd, and bounded away swiftly before anyone moved close to them. In his captive and tortured state, their wild, free-spirited existence lightened Prithu’s heart. The men were careless with their conversation during the nights, when they thought Prithu to be asleep from the pain and grogginess. Despite their vandal, bandit-like appearance they were men of the Dasa army. Their mission had been to spot the Suryavanshi army’s movements and report back to the main forces. But they found Prithu instead, and when one of them recognized him as that “nimbly, puny prince” from the Battle of Kapisa, they tied him up and were now marching him to a camp called Haroivaha. Prithu heard enough to learn that it was on the banks of the Harayu river, but east or west, north or south he knew not. Yet his concern was not for himself. The men’s carelessness extended to his captive state as well, and on more than one occasion Prithu tested the ropes to confirm that he could indeed break out of them. His concern was reserved for Aneni, and he tried not to think about what a group of men such as this would have done to her. Instead, he hoped that Haroivaha was where she was being taken as well, and put up with his captors’ stream of abuse, violence, cold water and colder food. *** It was another few weeks before they finally arrived at Haroivaha, and Prithu learnt that it was not a camp, but a bustling military city. The Harayu curved roughly around Haroivaha from its north-south flow to a west-east flow, and on the remaining two sides the city was shielded by tall, thick walls with turrets established at regular distances. And yet Prithu learnt, from overheard conversations, that this defensive architecture was not to protect the city from any Suryavanshi attack. In fact, the Dasas seemed supremely confident that no Suryavanshi would ever penetrate so deep into their lands. Instead, Haroivaha was a town under attack from countless nomadic tribes that still roamed north to far-north of it. For the first time, Prithu realized that the Dasas could have enemies other than the Suryavanshi, and that their attention could be at other things too. He was taken to one of Haroivaha’s countless, large huts and held captive for another week before being pulled out, bathed, combed and thrust with a fresh set of clothes. A different set of men were his captors now, and instead of relishing every opportunity to taunt and hit him, their mission seemed to be to keep him as well fed and rested as possible. He overheard no careless conversations under their watch, and knew nothing of what was planned for him. He had another week to himself before a tall, well-built visitor came calling one morning. “The soldier out in the battle-fields rarely knows the mind of his ruler, of the very man that has sent him there,” the stranger began without preamble, when he seated himself on the rugs next to Prithu. “The ruler may command him to do one thing, for a specific reason,” the man continued, “But the soldier may interpret an entirely different end. Loyal and dutiful as he is trained to be, he will still carry out more or less that very command. But the method has been different, the impact and result deviant from the ruler’s intent.” After close to two months of captivity, Prithu was in no mood for incoherent babble. He ignored the man’s ramblings, and asked, “Who are you? Till when do you intend to keep me captive, and where is my sister?” “I would humbly submit to you, crown prince Prithu, that you are not my captive,” the man said, trying to sound earnest, while he ignored the question about Aneni. “As I have just explained, the directive I gave to my wayward men was entirely different. Yes, I did order them to capture you and bring you to me. But only because there are some very important things you and I must talk about. The disrespect, abuse and torture was entirely of my men’s own invention. They perhaps assumed that my intent was to hold you prisoner, or execute you.” Prithu decided that if this man wanted to play nice, he would let him. “So you intend to do neither of those?” The man leaned back and spread his arms out. “I apologize for the harm and injury that has been caused to you. I wish your captivity was exactly as it has been this past week, and I have already punished the men responsible for this blunder. I only request that you hear me out.” Prithu could see through the false diplomacy, and not for a moment did he believe that leaving would be as easy as walking out of there. “All right,” he said, “Let us hear what you have to say, Dasa. But you will tell me where my sister is.” The man smiled and nodded. “I assure you that the princess of the Suryavansha is safe and unharmed, and you will soon be reunited. But let me introduce myself, crown prince Prithu. My name is Dahamitara, and my people call me the Zarath Ustra. That does not make me their king, for I am but a camel tasked with the burden of carrying my people. Yet I represent the wishes and intentions of the Dasas, much like your father would for the Suryavansha.” Prithu noticed that he had not said “Aryavarta,” simply “Suryavansha.” Had news of the troubles between Aryavarta’s Solar and Lunar Dynasties reached his ears? “And what the Dasas wish for is peace,” Dahamitara continued. “What the Dasas intend, is to broker truce with the Suryavansha once and for all. Enough kings and men have died for this unnecessary cause.” The last part was a violent jibe to Prithu’s ego. The Dasas had no kings, and every Suryavanshi king since Ikshvaku had died fighting the Dasas, though some had not lost their lives directly in battle. Dahamitara was subtly reminding Prithu of how the war had damaged his dynasty. “You are an intelligent man,” Dahamitara said, oblivious to the rage building inside his captive. “You would have rightly surmised that Haroivaha has not been built in defence of the Suryavanshi. You would know, correctly, that we have other enemies too. It is these enemies that we wish to fight, we wish to destroy and wipe out. We hold no such sentiments for the good people east of the Sindhu. For even we call ourselves arya.” Dahamitara was obviously an orator, a man who could bind people together simply by the power of his words. Only that, and a capability in battle, could make a leader among the Dasas. And from Dahamitara’s physique and posture, Prithu knew that his captor held the latter ability as well. “Your actions speak otherwise, Zarath Ustra,” Prithu said, inflecting as much venom as he could in the Dasa’s title. “For generations your people have crossed the Sindhu, not to make peace and friends but to raid, plunder and kill. You have mocked our practices and our Devas, twisting the rituals and turning our beliefs upside down.” “Night turns to day, and day turns to night. Summer is replaced by the cold of winter, after which it returns again, bountiful. For everything that exists, there is something that does not. Opposites are to be found everywhere in nature, then why not in us? Why not in our beliefs and rituals? We do not conduct them to mock you - you only view them from across the valleys and consider yourself mocked. For centuries you have roamed through our lands, and stolen our horses and leather unchecked; now you complain if we have need of your cows and metals.” Prithu had no answer for that. Dahamitara’s words were uncomfortably close togGuru Sumati’s. They did not soothe his anger though, and he raged, “We did not destroy villages and kill civilians when we did this, Zarath Ustra of the Dasas! We did not invade your capitals and intrude into your fortresses, soiling them with the blood of their own soldiers and kings.” Dahamitara gave Prithu a soft, understanding look. “We have committed unwarranted crimes, I will admit to that,” he said gently. “But I am not Narantaka, I am not a Rakshasa. I am a beast of burden that understands the value of a peaceful and idyllic life. What punishment would you give to us, for the crimes of our forefathers? If I let your father storm Haroivaha and behead me, will that pay the price? Or would you rather drive us out of these lands, capturing our rivers and cities for yourselves?” “I would rather you return my sister to me, and let us return to our lands and people. We cannot talk of peace till we are your captives, Zarath Ustra.” “I reiterate that you are not my prisoner. But as for your sister, she truly has never been my captive. She was not brought here bound and beaten like you, nor has she been held against her wishes. From Harautii to here we journeyed together, hand in hand, only as lovers would.” *** “This time, my sister, you have gone too far. I was captured and beaten, the men with me slain, and father probably marches into Dasavarsha with full force by now. Of all the men in the world, you had to find the ruler of the Dasas?” Aneni looked back at her brother unabashed, glaring at him with the same eyes as their father’s. Dahamitara left the siblings alone after bringing Prithu to her, allowing him to learn from his sister that he had been told no lie. “If you look beyond your ego for just a moment, brother, you will realize that this alliance works out best for the Suryavansha.” “Have you lost your mind?” Aneni cursed and grunted in frustration. “Why can’t you see this? The Dasas have their own enemies to the north, and we have ours to our east. We need not fight anymore, and the truce benefits both!” “It is not the idea of truce that bothers me, Aneni. But the idea of wedding my sister to the Dasas is unthinkable.” “And who are you to wed me?” Aneni retorted. “What makes you my master? I am free to choose who I wed.” “Yes you are, but your suitor cannot be a Dasa,” Prithu said firmly. Aneni cursed again. “If you are to be like this, brother, then how will I ever convince father?” She had hit the right tone, but Prithu tried to resist and talk reason with his sister. “Aneni, think about what you are trying to do. The Dasas killed Ikshvaku and Vikukshi, Shashada and grandfather. They killed thousands of our people, raided our lands countless times. Ours is not a rivalry that can subside, my sister. Neither side can forget the enmity in our bloods.” “But they can,” insisted Aneni. “The Dasas already have, in a way. I know this, Prithu, I have seen it. They do not care about the Sindhu and what lies east of it. Like us, they too look westward. That is where their trade is, where their rivers flow to, and where their civilization is prospering.” There was earnestness in Aneni’s eyes, and Prithu could see that his sister truly believed what she was saying. He had seen the strength at Haroivaha, and if the Dasas had even a few more cities like this, then there was wisdom in a truce with them. But Prithu knew his father would never see that, he wasn’t even sure if he truly believed it yet. But what he knew for certain was that once his sister had made her mind up, there would be no changing it. Aneni sensed the air turn in her favour, and pushed her advantage. “Think about it, brother. Let us make peace with the Dasas, let us bury our debts and hostilities. I love this man, and he loves me in return. For close to three years we have nurtured our relationship. He has sneaked into Karnata and Vitabhya, just to be with me. He will keep me happy and safe. Is that not what you and father want for me?” She had won, and Prithu’s shoulders slumped in defeat. Once again, he would have to bear the brunt of their father’s anger for his sister. But once again he would do it. And then, when his decision was made and Aneni would have her way, Prithu let himself imagine the future. A future where he was king and had no enemies. He would have friends in the Dasas, and he would make friends of the Somavanshi too. He would give his people the peace they always deserved, and even Ikshvaku would be made happy in the heavens.