About JKLocation: Gainesville, FL Age:27 Website: http://picasaweb.google.com/home?tab=mq Favorite music: jazz, blues Non-noveling interests: photography |
Joined: octobre 26, 2007 This Year: Official Participant NaNoWriMo History: NaNoWriMo posts: 0 NaNoWriMo buddies: 3
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Synopsis:
I have no idea where this story will go...
Excerpt:
When I was born not many people took notice. The festivals and celebrating that followed my arrival weren’t for me. Through the congratulations, the good wishes and the blessings not many took note of my dark eyes or my small head of black hair. It was my brother, my twin, my dearest friend, that they noticed and cooed over and blessed. The village bhramana, who was also my father, and the neighboring villages bhramana, who was my uncle, both pressed their palms to my forehead in blessing almost as an after thought.
It was him who they anointed with the sacred oils first. He they pressed the mud and cow dug to his forehead first, my mother, tired but happy, who held him and smiled. He was named Rama, Strength, for a village that was staggering under an occupying rule and a harsh drought. Rama, perhaps after the great king who had been honorable, kind, and prosperous. Truth be told it was a common name in that time of despair but that did not stop the Bhramana from choosing it nor the villagers all agreeing that it was a wonderful and fitting choice. The scholars all agreed, the stars were aligned very auspiciously at the time of his birth, the planets were all in scholarly and religious houses. Yes, they all agreed, great things awaited my brother.
I was born under the same stars, but it was hardly noted.
I was given the name Subhadra, who is appropriately enough the younger sister of Rama, or Balarama. Daughter, sister, wife, and mother of warriors. Subhadra, daughter of Vasudeva, an honorable kasutria, who I’d always pictured as a bit bookish, certainly very scholarly, though I’m not sure why. Wife of Arjuna, the great archer and best friend of Krsna who was also her brother. Krishna. Balarama. Her brothers. My lords. My comfort. May I never forget them. Mother of Abhimanu, who died in battle when he was not more then three years older then I was when it all started.
Rather an unusual name for a bhramana’s daughter I suppose, a warriors daughter, wife, and mother. She was courageous, and I tried to draw inspiration and comfort from her.
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