उदयति भास्करः सम्प्रति, तथैव जीवाः क्रियायां प्रवर्तन्ते।

Udayati bhāskaraḥ samprati, tathaiva jīvāḥ kriyāyām pravartante

(As the sun rises, so does life stir into motion.)

The sun rose over the sacred land of Kalinga like a golden curtain being lifted to cover the stellar night sky, its ropes pulled by the seven celestial horses of Surya Deva himself. A soft, golden hue spread across the welkins, igniting the sky with the beatific flame of Agni, as the first rays of dawn pierced through the mist that had tenderly enfolded the land. The sky, now painted with crimson and amber, mirrored the fiery glow of the grandeur fire, awakening all that lay beneath its gaze. The lush plains of Kalinga bathed in the fertile warmth of Surya's touch, the shadows of trees and glistening rivers stretching long into the horizon, the cows and the goats grazing on the lush green meadows, and the cute squirrels running along the woods in search of their food. 

It was a sight that heralded the eternal morning of Kalinga, a kingdom whose pulse never ceased; its life stirring even before the first light, even when shadows still held sway.

The first rays kissed the great temple of Jagannath, the sacred stone walls shimmering, as though the very heavens had bestowed their elysian blessing. The golden kalashas atop the temple walls gleamed, reflecting the auspicious light that poured from the sky, while the bells rang in melodious unison, their sound an invocation to the gods. The morning air was thick with the scent of incense and offerings of ghee, and the reverberations of conch shells and cymbals ringing out, their empyrean music calling the faithful to prayers.

ओम नमो जगन्नाथया, सर्वम् जगत् त्वायी वर्तते, त्वाम् नाथ, त्वाम् गतिह्, त्वाम् धर्मह्!

Aum namo Jagannāthāya,

Sarvam jagat tvayi vartate,

Tvaṁ nāthaḥ, tvaṁ gatiḥ, tvaṁ dharmāḥ!

(Oh Lord Jagannath,

The entire world revolves around you,

You are the Lord, you are the path, you are righteousness!)

The priests, clad in spotless white dhotis, began their morning arati, their voices rising like a symphony of devotion. Their chanting of ancient, immemorial mantras filled the air while the smoke from the sandalwood incense spiralled upwards in delicate threads, uniting with the scent of fresh flowers and holy offerings. The sacred sounds, echoing through the temple courtyards, awakened not just the city but the very soul of Kalinga itself. For Kalinga was said to house the heart of this great universe.

Beyond the temple, the common life of the kingdom began to stir, as dawn painted its glory across every corner.

The fishermen of Puri, their bronze skin gleaming in the first light, cast their woven nets into the restless sea, whispering prayers to Varuna, the god of the oceans, for a bountiful catch. The briny scent of saltwater mixed with the umami tang of fresh fish, carried on the breeze from the Bay of Bengal, a reminder of nature's eternal cycles. The ocean, its depths unknowable, responded with its own tides—helping these fisherman with their livelihood. Lord Varuna was merciful their ardent calls.

In the bustling bazaars of Dhauli, merchants began their daily chorus, calling out to the masses as they peddled everything from spices and silks to golden ornaments and intricately crafted terracotta figurines. The aroma of cardamom, saffron, and turmeric wafted through the air, blending with the scent of freshly ground sandalwood. Women, adorned in vibrant antariyas and uttariyas, and marked with vermilion at their foreheads, carried brass pots of water atop their heads, their anklets ringing in time with the laughter of these ephemeral apsaras. The sound of their steps, as delicate as the petals of lotus flowers, joined in the morning endeavors of the bustling territory. 

In the grand mansions of the noble families, made from chandan wood and granite, the windows were thrown open to welcome the morning breeze, carrying with it the freshness of the earth and the promise of another successful day. Young disciples of the ashrams recited their Vedic lessons, their voices a soft echo of the sublime wisdom that had been passed down through generations. 

सर्वेषु भूतेषु दयां कुर्वन्तु, तथा एव प्रभातः शुभाकरः भवतु।

Sarveṣu bhūteṣu dayāṁ kurvantu,

Tathā eva prabhātaḥ śubhākaraḥ bhavatu!

(Let kindness prevail among all beings,

And may this dawn bring auspiciousness!)

In this kingdom, where every breath was taken in reverence and every action performed with devotion, life moved not in haste, but in a steady motion, like the heartbeat of the universe itself. The world was woven together by Dharma: by duty, by love, by the sacred law that governed all existence. It was a world where the deiform and mortal, the mundane and the holy, existed in eternal harmony, a script as ancient as time itself. The soft breeze blew across the plateaus, creating an atmosphere that seemed like almost suspended in time.

Inside the royal chambers, a soft stirring broke the silence, as though the very air had sighed with the rising sun. Urvashi awoke with a start, her breath catching in her throat, her heart beating with the horror of waking past the designated time for her supposed lectures. For a fleeting moment, she had thought she was back in her hostel room, the harsh blaring of her alarm clock tearing through the veil of sleep, urging her into the waking world. Her fingers, still heavy with the fragments of dreams, instinctively reached for it...only to grasp nothing but the cool expanse of silk and empty air.

Urvashi jolted upright, looking around for the supposed alarm clock before she realised this wasn't her hostel room. She was still in this unfamiliar, ancient timeline and yesterday's events were evidently not a dream. She stretched, her arms reaching toward the vaulted ceiling, and her feet shifted beneath the tangled mess of her new clothes. 

A soft yawn escaped her lips, and as her fingers brushed her disheveled hair, she couldn't help but feel an odd sense of familiarity. 

This... she thought, isn't the world I know.

The chamber around her was bathed in a golden, ancient light, as though time itself had paused to admire the artful murals that adorned the walls. The air, rich with the mingling scents of camphor and lotus, tickled her senses in a way that made her feel like an outsider in her own skin. It was all so different. So...foreign.

And yet, it felt right.

"So, how did I get here?" she asked herself, still too dazed to comprehend the full weight of the events that had unfolded last night. She had woken up in this strange place, a place that felt older than time itself, to realize that she was no longer in her world. Her modern life, with its glaring screens and cold, metallic edges, had slipped through her fingers like sand. Thankfully the crown prince cleared much of her anxiety yesterday.

Her thoughts churned like a slow, distant river. Time travel? Is that what this is? Her mind stumbled over the idea, still trying to grasp the concept as she glanced around the room. The very air wafted with a scent of oldwood, yet it settled around her with an uncanny ease, as if this ancient world was the one she was meant to inhabit all along.

Urvashi sat properly, the soft fabric of her disordered nivi rustling beneath her. Her hair, now a tangled mess of waves and curls, framed her face like a crown of chaos. She should have been panicking, screaming, or at least something. But all she felt was a strange calm: a peace that settled deep in her chest, even as her mind screamed in confusion.

Maybe because a part of her mind was relieved of the stress she had been carrying with her for two years?

Her thoughts whirled faster now, an undercurrent building beneath that fleeting calm.

"No, no. Stop thinking only about yourself", she scolded herself, wrapping her arms around her knees as she sat on the cool bed, "You can't afford to be selfish, Urvashi. What about Ma and Baba? They must be sick with worry. What about Aniket and that stupid group project he messed up and you had to re-touch it? And—oh God—what about exams?!"

Her fingers curled into the soft cotton of her nivi, gripping it tight. "They'll think I'm in a comatose," she whispered into the emptiness. "Or dead."

The severity of it all suddenly pressed down on her chest like a crushing mountain. Her parents' faces flashed before her eyes: her mother's tired smile, her father's quiet nods of approval, both their eyes filled with pride. What if they never find out what happened? What if I never go back? What if I never see them again?

Her voice cracked in the stillness. "I didn't even say goodbye..."

Tears prickled at the corners of her eyes, but she blinked them away. Crying won't change anything. You're not helping anyone like this.

She pressed her palms flat against the bed beneath her, grounding herself. The room—the past—felt real. It was real. The scent of sandalwood, the textured walls, the muted light filtering through lattice windows...everything was vivid, detailed, undeniable.

"Okay," she said softly, exhaling shakily. "I am here. For whatever reason, I am here. And if this is Kalinga... then I need to stop panicking—BECAUSE FOR GOD'S SAKE ITS STILL INDIA—and start understanding it."

She rose slowly, fixing her nivi, now more aware of the way it clung awkwardly to her modern sensibilities. She wandered to the carved window and gazed out at the world beyond. The warm hues of the sky stretched over palace grounds, bustling courtyards, and the gentle scenery of a civilization untouched by skyscrapers or traffic horns.

"I can't just wait around. I need to learn. Listen. Blend in. Maybe...maybe even survive. Maybe I can find a way to get back..."

Her monologue had turned into quiet resolution when the door creaked open.

She spun around.

A cluster of women entered. Maids, she guessed. Draped in demure attires with hair coiled in intricate knots, they carried trays, cloths, and small clay pots. Their eyes flicked to her with a mix of curiosity and reverence. One of them bowed slightly. 

"Devi," the seemingly eldest one, said softly, "we've come to assist you. May we?"

Urvashi froze, still adjusting to the title...to the idea that here, she might be someone else. Someone important.

She gave a slow nod. "Yes... please."

"Devi, kiṁ yuṣmākam prabhātaṁ śubham asti?"

(Lady, was your morning peaceful?)

Urvashi hesitated, but the words, though ancient, felt familiar upon her tongue. She responded hesitantly...awkwardly, "Aham... jāgaritā asmi." (I...have awakened.) Although the language was familiar for her, their polite gestures and mild tone of speech left her quite speechless.

They led her to a marble basin filled with warm rose-infused water, cleansing her with herbal oils that left her skin soft and glowing. Sandalwood paste was gently applied to her wrists and throat, its cool touch calming her senses, while her honey-colored skin was massaged with a fragrant blend of sesame and jasmine oils.

She was dressed in a fine cotton vastra, the fabric light yet elegant, woven with golden borders that shimmered under the morning light. The pallu was draped over her shoulder, accentuating her delicate collarbones and slightly slender arms. 

Everything has such a genuine touch to it. Everything reeks of purity...

"Devi, bhavān Rājan tathā ca Yuvarāja sārdham bhojanārtham nimantritāḥ santi."

(Lady, you are invited to dine with His Royal Majesty and His Highness.)

The soft, soothing voice snapped her reverie and brought her attention back to the supposed maid, who now looked upon her with admiration.

Urvashi took a deep breath, her heart steadying itself as she processed the maid's words.

The King... and the Crown Prince?

Her brows lifted in surprise for a fleeting second, but she caught herself quickly, schooling her expression into grace. "Āh... bhojanārtham nimantraṇam? That is... an honour," she said softly, her tongue nearly spilling some colorful hindi words.

The maids smiled gently. The eldest one stepped forward, holding out alta. "We will help you prepare, Devi. His Majesty's table does not wait forever."

Urvashi chuckled lightly, a glint of mischief slipping through her nerves. "Nor should it, I imagine."

The women relaxed visibly. Encouraged, she sat down on the edge of a wooden cot. "And what should I call you all?" she asked, her tone casual but kind.

The youngest one, barely more than a girl, beamed. "Aham Dipti, Devi," she said, hands folded in a respectful namaskāra.

"I am Valli," the older maid added, adjusting a small ornate mirror in front of Urvashi. "And this is Sharvani."

Urvashi repeated their names under her breath, committing them to memory. "Dipti, Valli, Sharvani," she said with quiet affection. "It's comforting to have company like yours."

Valli laughed gently, tucking a strand of Urvashi's hair into a neater coil. "You are gracious, Devi. But we are merely your sevikās."

Urvashi tilted her head, eyes narrowing slightly as a thought surfaced. Wait... these aren't the same maids from last night. Those women spoke in hurried, broken Prakrit... barely made any eye contact. But these three...they are different. Calm, learned, and clearly fluent in Sanskrit. They move around me with quiet elegance, not hesitation. There is ease in their words and subtle knowledge in their gestures.

This is intentional, she realized. Her gaze drifted downward, thoughtful. They were sent to make me feel safe. Cared for. Heard.

A flicker of warmth bloomed in her chest. That Yuvraja's name was Adeettiya, right? I should really thank him for this polite gesture.

Though she couldn't remember his face clearly, only glimpses of sharp cheekbones and distant eyes, she bowed her head slightly, almost in a silent prayer of thanks.

"Enlighten me," she asked gently, as Valli worked fragrant oil into her hair, tying it in a braid, "what is the proper way to greet His Royal Highness in your court?"

Her light brown hair, brushed to a beautiful bun encircled with braids, was adorned with mogra flowers, their scent sweet and intoxicating.

Sharvani smiled at her question, clearly pleased by Urvashi's curiosity. "When you approach the Kalingaraj, Devi, place your right hand across your chest and bow your head slightly. Do not meet his eyes unless he grants you permission."

Dīpti chimed in eagerly, "The Crown Prince is more lenient. He speaks to us like we're equals sometimes! But still... always begin with 'Pranam Mahārāja' for the King, and 'Pranam Yuvarāja' for the Prince."

Urvashi nodded, absorbing the customs like a sponge. "Pranam Mahārāja... Pranam Yuvarāja..." she murmured. "I suppose I'll have to get used to a lot of rules."

Valli chuckled as she helped Urvashi adjust her jewellery. "The rules will bend around you in time, Devi. You're not just a guest anymore."

Urvashi's lips parted slightly. Not just a guest?

But before she could ask more, Dipti gently fixed her hair once more. "You're ready."