The indian queens bob haircut (original story) 1

The fort of Kadaloranadu was about to fall. It was under heavy attack from
the forces of Malairajyam. The forces of Kadaloranadu  were vastly outnumbered by the forces of Malairajyam. Nine of their divisions, consisting of horse cavalry, elephant cavalry, and some 20,000 foot soldiers were camped outside Kadaloranadu.Their victory appeared imminent. The battle’s outcome was now no longer a matter of conjecture. Only a miracle or divine intervention could save Kadaloranadu from the greedy grasp of  Malairajyam.

King Nallarajan of Kadaloranadu huddled with his ministers and advisors. They had to decide whether to surrender to the  invading forces of Malairajyam or fight to the end and die in glory. Almost to the last man, the advisors of King Nallarajan wanted to pursue the latter course, but King Nallarajan despaired over the massacre that would follow, and the hordes of innocent men, women, and children who would fall victim to the marauding forces of Malairajyam. It was a wrenching choice to be made between military glory and certain devastation of the entire populace of Kadaloranadu, or surrender and the possibility of
perhaps losing his and his general’s heads but saving the people. 

This was the third siege mounted by the forces of Malairajyam on Kadaloranadu. The two previous attempts had been thwarted, thanks to the bravery and valor of Kadaloranadu’s proud military. Despite being outnumbered in men, horses, and elephants, and despite having suffered huge losses of men, cavalry animals, chariots and other war material, the fort of Kadaloranadu was  defended with fury by proud warriors to whom death in
the battlefield was the ultimate reward and the ultimate glory. The fort could simply not be breached.

Malairajyam too suffered huge casualties. They had been rebuffed by strategy, ruse, as well as the sheer battlefield ferocity displayed by the Kadaloranadu forces. The Malairajyam forces had been worn down and compelled to retreat. King Rakshasaputran of Malairajyam had ordered the beheading of his top generals’ heads on those two previous humiliating
occasions when his forces could not take Kadaloranadu, so great had been his wrath at their inability to seize that much besought prize. His main military goal in invading Kadaloranadu was to take their three wonderful seaports, which supported a

flourishing trade with places as far as the Arabian peninsula. 

The ports had contributed to the amazing prosperity of  Kadaloranadu, which had beautiful palaces, market places, thriving pearl fishing villages, temples, roads, gardens, fruit groves,
rich fields of paddy, and irrigation canals. Before they came under Malairajyam’s rapacious notice, peace had prevailed in Kadaloranadu under the benevolent reign of
King Nallarajan, and the people were happy and prosperous. The arts flourished. Temples, assembly halls, centers for the performing arts, and inns were built. Visitors converged from everywhere  including such faraway places as China. 

Kadaloranadu came to be regarded as heaven on earth, or as close to that as a human
kingdom could aspire to become. Travelers told of its wonders and poets sang of its riches. They also waxed eloquently about the  might, wisdom, and generosity of King Nallarajan
and his beautiful Queen Keshasundari. The king was compared for his physical prowess to Indra, for his valor to Arjuna, and for his generosity to Karna. He was a consummate master of all the arts of war, including archery, swordsmanship, horse riding, elephant riding, and spear throwing.

Enemies were as likely to be bedazzled by his resplendent form which shone like the sun, as they were to be overwhelmed by the ferocity of his skills in battle. Despite this, King Nallarajan was a pacifist who never attacked any other kingdom, big or small. He was a deeply religious ruler who surrounded himself with buddhists, jains, and hindus alike. In his reign, there were no religious tensions, and everyone got along well. 

He was known to reward artists and craftsmen with spontaneous gifts of handfuls of gold coins. Wise men were welcomed with great honors at his court, and received generous rewards of land and cattle. His fame had spread across the entire continent. Just as famed was Queen Keshasundari’s beauty and kindness towards her happy subjects. 

The queen was a magnificent figure and her subjects thrilled to see her as though she were the very personification of a goddess. She was a stunning beauty in her glittering dresses, her gold and diamond ornaments, and her flowing hair, whose shimmering texture was likened by the poets to silk, whose jet black hue to that of the new moon’s night, and whose movement to the waves of the restless sea. Her voice drew comparison to the melodious calls of the koel birds and nightingales that wafted in with the cool breeze from the mango groves  in the evenings. 

When she appeared before her subjects on her carriage drawn by a team of white horses, the populace bowed their heads, not so much in fear as in awe and reverential deference.

To be  in her presence became an honor, a fulfilment of  life’s very purpose, and a God conferred blessing. She was even known to step down from her chariot to comfort any subject who beseeched her for her favors and her mercies during her periodic processions through the broad streets of Kadaloranadu. So compassionate was she that she was known to become tearful if she came to hear of the suffering of some town or village in her husband’s dominion. Such things happened due to periodic natural calamities like floods from the mighty rivers that watered the kingdom or the ravaging cyclones that blew in from the sea.

She would  prevail upon the king to send his envoys to see that the suffering of the people was immediately redressed. In secret, Rakshasaputran lusted as much after Queen Keshasundari as he did after the sea ports of Kadaloranadu. He had never seen her, but the accounts of his spies who infiltrated into Kadaloranadu from time to time, had fueled his unseemly desire for Queen Keshasundari. He had sent an artist in disguise to the court of King Nallarajan. This fellow, known as Oviamedhai, had the gift of capturing in his mind’s eye any person’s features and physical  attributes in an instant.

 All he needed was one brief glance, and he trapped in his brain the minutest details of what was before his eyes with total clarity and precision. Some even believed that to be seen by him was a curse, and that he actually stole a part of the soul of whatever it was that he cast his eyes upon. According to them, it was not a matter of just superior memory but some secret power of abstraction that took from the very nature of whatever or whoever he chanced to be looking at. This was taken to be true, as Oviamedhai was always ordered

to appear before King Rakshasaputran with his face covered in a blackened
sack. 

Later Oviamedhai could render this mentally stolen image in shocking precision, on a mural in dazzling colors or as a stone sculpture that seemed to come alive and move. He had created a portrait of Queen Keshasundari at the behest of Rakshasaputran as well as produced a life-size image of her, cut out of solid granite, for display in the King’s secret garden. Every day, Rakshasaputran stood transfixed before the likenesses of Queen Keshasundari that Oviamedhai had created for him. Every day his desire for the destruction of King Nallarajan and the capture of Kadaloranadu’s ports as well as the hand of Queen Keshasundari grew in intensity until it had become an unbearable ache, and an unstoppable obsession.

King Rakshasaputran epitomized the exact opposite of everything King Nallarajan represented. He was a cruel and unjust a ruler with a sadistic bent that he never failed to display whenever a chance arose to do so. He constantly attacked nearby kingdoms
without provocation. Unfortunately, fate favored him with many a victory. He tortured his enemies in the many prisons and underground dungeons that littered his mountain kingdom. Under his rule, the once affluent and prosperous kingdom had become pitifully impoverished. Its gardens were overgrown with weeds, and scorpions, snakes, and other dangerous creatures overran them. Expenditures on the military far outstripped other spending in his belligerent kingdom. 

Makers of swords, arrows, chariots, wheels, spears, and tools of torture received the King’s constant patronage. The populace was taxed heavily, and some farmers had to surrender their entire years’ produce just to pay those taxes. The more he conquered, the less wealthy his kingdom became, as good and just people fled his kingdom and sought refuge in other nearby lands. Yet, Malairajyam had known better days under his predecessor on the throne, King Shantaswaroopan. Shantaswaroopan had signed a peace treaty with Kadaloranadu, and given his daughter  Keshasundari in marriage to King Nallarajan to ensure that their
neighboring kingdoms would coexist in peace forever. There were constant  cultural exchanges between the two kingdoms.

Although Malairajyam never attained the opulence and glory enjoyed by Kadaloranadu, it was a happy and prosperous land. Heavily forested, its main industry was the logging of timber. Wood sculpture was a highly developed art in Malairjayam in the days of King Shantaswaroopan. Their artisans worked on many of the construction projects going on in
Kadaloranadu and left their artistic imprint on Kadaloranadu’s history. The intricately carved gates and temple doors that gave entrance into many of Kadaloranadu’s magnificent buildings were the work of Malairajyam’s talented wood carvers.

Unfortunately, Malairajyam’s furure was to be changed in a single cruel instant. Rakshasaputran, who had been a minor general under King

Shantaswaroopan, had seized the kingdom by a daring but
reprehensible act of treachery. He had murdered the old king while he was

praying in his private temple in the palace.  

He had then thrown Shantaswaroopan’s sole heir, Crown Prince Gunasheelan into a
dungeon. Nothing was heard of Prince Gunasheelan again. He was rumored to have died of self-inflicted starvation in one of Rakshasaputran’s many prisons. The loyal subjects of
King Shantaswaroopan grieved the loss of their former king and later his son, the handsome and wonderful Prince Gunasheelan, but what could they do to oppose their new king, whose power and greed grew by the day and the minute? Like all oppressed  people, they suffered in silence, praying and hoping that someday God’s closed eyes would open, justice would prevail, and peace and prosperity would return to their tortured land. 

Rakshasaputran  annulled the peace treaty and put Kadaloranadu on  notice of his military intentions. The former friendly neighbors became bitter enemies almost overnight. On this third and most desperate siege, King Rakshasaputran led the charge himself, cutting down
his enemies like an elephant mounted reincarnation of Yama himself. Inspired by his ferocity, his troops fought like demons, cutting a horrible swath of death and destruction in their wake. Kadaloranadu soldiers, brave and determined though they were, could
not arrest the relentless advance of their enemies under their King Rakshasaputran’s command. They saw the futility of opposing him and scattered in disarray. Horses raised their forelegs and neighed piteously in terror, disoriented elephants sank to the ground like collapsing tents under the volley of arrows Rakshasaputran showered on them.

After thirteen days of fierce battle, his forces reached the outskirts of Kadaloranadu’s fort. Leaving a field of maimed bodies behind him, where blood flowed like a river in spate, and where men lay groaning and wailing in the throes of death, and where injured animals ran hither and thither in utter confusion, Rakshasaputran ordered his troops to rest for the night. There was practically no resistance coming from Kadaloranadu’s fighters now. It would
be easy enough to take the prize in the light of the following dawn.

He cast off his sword and shield, and threw himself on the bed in the royal tent, and immediately fell asleep, his twelve highly trusted lieutenants standing guard over him as he gathered his strengths. He began to dream of Queen Keshasundari, delicate as
a flower, dressed in a white robe as translucent as the early morning fog that was sometimes seen in the mountainous forests of Malairajyam. As though in a drunken swoon, she was wrapping her luscious form around his strong, muscular, blood soaked body, giving herself completely to him. Her heavy sighs mingled with his racing breath.