Author's Note: Please refer to the glossary at the end of each episode to understand the non-English words used in this episode. This was originally meant to be a published novel, but due to time and resource constraints, I'm publishing it here first. I hope you enjoy the sprinkle of culture throughout the Episodes! 

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In the opulent chambers of Ayodhya, where the ancient rhythms of India whispered through the air, a profound stillness settled like a sacred incantation. Cloaked in resplendent attire, the Queen of Ayodhya reclined upon a bed adorned with intricate carvings, her countenance a tapestry of regality and serenity. But beneath her composed façade, a symphony of emotions swirled, a delicate dance between anticipation and anxiety, as the sacred hour of her blessed burden approached.

With each measured breath, the Queen felt the ebb and flow of life within her womb, a gentle stirring of the universe's secrets. The celestial choreography of her unborn child's movements resonated beneath the folds of her ornate silk sari, a tender caress of the divine manifesting within her sacred vessel. But as twilight draped its velvet shroud over the sky, a delicate unease threaded its way through the chambers of her heart, entwined with the whispers of prophecies ancient as time itself.

Clasping her hands adorned with intricate alta patterns, the Queen sought solace in her quiet resolve. She knew the path of creation, despite its boundless beauty, entwined joy and suffering, light and shadow. The labor pains, like distant thunder heralding the arrival of a monsoon, began as whispers, soft tremors resonating in the depths of her being. With each passing moment, the whispers grew into a resounding chorus, a crescendo of ache and intensity. Each contraction became an ardent reminder that the act of creation demanded surrender, a courageous surrender to the indomitable forces of life.

A retinue of attendants besides the royal midwife, draped in thick cotton robes, encircled the Queen. Their presence, a silent chorus of support, carried the weight of tradition and wisdom passed down through generations. Ancient hymns and chants rose and fell, their melodic tones mingling with the flickering glow of oil lamps, casting an otherworldly radiance upon the chamber. In the midst of her labor, the Queen found herself cradled within a sacred symphony, a harmonious convergence of human and divine.

As the labor intensified, the Queen's visage contorted with the raw anguish of creation. Her face, a canvas upon which emotions painted their vivid strokes, revealed the depths of her strength and vulnerability. Every muscle and sinew strained against the surging tide of pain, and yet, her spirit remained steadfast, buoyed by the ancestral spirits that whispered their encouragement.

The atmosphere mirrored the Queen's tribulation, as if nature itself held its breath, enraptured by the profound act of creation unfolding within the walls of Ayodhya's palace. The air, heavy with anticipation, carried the scent of jasmine and sandalwood, mingling with the Queen's labored breaths. It seemed as if the very elements conspired to bear witness to her journey, to honor the sacred threshold she traversed.

And then, as the moon reached its zenith, casting its silvery radiance upon the chamber, the Queen's weary body yielded to the weight of her ordeal. Her eyes fluttered closed, surrendering to the embrace of darkness, her consciousness submerged in a sea of exhaustion and ethereal whispers.

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Time transcended its earthly bounds, a veil of stillness and serenity, until the Queen stirred from her slumber. Gradually, her senses awakened to the delicate symphony of chirping birds, their melodies intertwining with the gentle breeze that caressed her brow. The chamber, aglow with the tender hues of daybreak, breathed life into her surroundings. It was as if the universe itself cradled the Queen in its celestial arms, embracing her with a sense of renewed vitality.

The rhythmic fluttering of feathered fans, wielded by her devoted maids, generated a gentle breeze that brushed against the Queen's skin like a mother's touch. The rhythmic pulse soothed her weary soul, imbuing her with a newfound serenity. The room, adorned with tapestries depicting scenes of Kanha and his valor, came alive, their threads pulsating with the vibrant tales of the ancient hero, master strategist and God.

And as the Queen's eyes fluttered open, she beheld a sight that stirred her heart and brought tears of joy to her gaze. Nestled beside her, amidst a bed of fragrant rose petals, lay a tiny form wrapped in the softest fabrics spun by celestial weavers. The delicate slumber of the child, untouched by the sorrows of the world, emanated an ethereal glow, almost casting a luminous aura upon the chamber. 

In that sacred moment, the Queen understood the depth of her purpose, the profound significance of this tiny life entrusted to her care. The princess, a manifestation of divine grace and an heir to the noble lineage of Ayodhya, represented a bridge between the past and the future—a beacon of hope and harmony in a world often beset by darkness.

With trembling hands, the Queen reached out to cradle her daughter, marveling at the delicate features that mirrored her own. The child's serene countenance held the promise of a thousand sunrises. In her innocent slumber, the Queen glimpsed the potential for a world transformed, where love and compassion reigned supreme.

As the morning sun ascended, casting its golden rays upon the land, the Queen felt an unbreakable bond forming between herself and her princess—a bond forged not only by blood but by the shared destiny of shaping the future. She pledged to be her daughter's guide, her protector, and her greatest champion, fostering within her the virtues of kindness, wisdom, and unwavering courage.

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Before the next paksh was over, the news of the princess's birth spread throughout the kingdom, and jubilation swept through the streets of Ayodhya. The air became infused with the scent of celebration, as flowers bloomed in riotous colors, and the rhythmic beats of drums echoed in joyful unison. The people, inspired by the birth of their princess, felt a renewed sense of purpose and unity, for she represented the embodiment of their collective hopes and dreams.

In the heart of Ayodhya, the Queen stood at the threshold of a new era, a custodian of legacy and the torchbearer of an ancient lineage. She embraced her role of being a mother to a daughter with humility and grace. She knew that her actions would shape not only the destiny of her daughter but also the destiny of a kingdom. In her tender gaze, her daughter would find strength. In her nurturing touch, she would find solace. And in her unwavering love, the princess would discover the courage to illuminate the path of righteousness. 

As the sun's golden rays bathed Ayodhya in their radiant warmth at the end of a paksh, the Queen emerged from the chamber, cradling her daughter in her arms. The palace and its surroundings were transformed into a living tapestry of love and joy. The citizens of Ayodhya were united in their shared devotion as they welcomed the Princess with open hearts. 

Sriratna. A precious gem associated with Goddess Lakshmi.

Her baby Suri. Her baby goddess. 

In the birth of the princess of Ayodhya, a new chapter began—a chapter imbued with the hues of ancient wisdom and the tender dreams of a hopeful future. The Queen, with a heart filled with gratitude and reverence, embarked on a journey of nurturing, guided by the spirits of her ancestors and the eternal rhythms of love that bound mother and daughter, queen and princess, in an unbreakable bond.

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[Footnotes / Glossary]

Alta = a red coloured body adornment dye used by women since Ancient India

Kanha = alternate name for Lord Krishna, a Hindu deity and a main character in the epic of Mahabharata 

Paksh = 14 days according to Vedic time zones

Lakshmi = the goddess of wealth, counter-part to Lord Vishnu (1 of the main trinity gods of Hinduism; Lord Krishna is also an avatar of Lord Vishnu

Sriratna = A precious gem; a name associated with Goddess Lakshmi.

Suri = an Indian name of Sanskrit origin which means " goddess "