I’m sure that all of you have heard of the late father of Rama, King Dasarath of Ayodhya. There isn’t much information regarding him in the Ramayana, although we know that he shot the son of two blind parents, and was cursed by the parents. Hence, when Rama left Ayodhya, banished by Kaikeyi, Dasarath (D.) died of grief on his bed. Like I said, there isn’t much about him after the whole killed someone’s child event; the story skips to Rama’s birth, and Rama (let’s call him R.) takes centre stage. This story, on the other hand, focuses on an entirely unrealistic time in D.’s life.

He was a young king at the time. He enjoyed his life— hunting, eating, texting and sleeping. By the way, his palace had an excellent Wi-Fi connection, and amazing room service. I shouldn’t stray away from the topic, but there was this one time when I was visiting him, and . . .

But that’s a story for another time.

He was a king, so he had everything he ever wanted, except one thing. A break. He wanted some time alone. So, at times, he would walk out of the palace, incognito, and take his flying machine (the real thing, not the brand) and roam the skies above.

At this point, you might be wondering why R. had to build an entire bridge of stones to Lanka, and didn’t have the sense to take this vehicle. I had to think about it, too. Then, I realised that there were four definite reasons:

(a) He always got airsick.

(b) Customs forms at the Lankan airport were a pain, especially when the ruler was a psychotic king with a grudge against him.

(c) It wasn’t a sponsored flight, so he didn’t get any flier miles, even if he ever got the nerve to fly.

(d) He was banished from the kingdom.

Back to D., now. I think he’s sulking. Even when it’s his story being told, R. makes an appearance.

So he would roam the skies above.

One time, he decided that he would go farther on this flight than ever before. He kept going west, following the setting sun, and he discovered beautiful green woods, thousands of birds and lots and lots of game. He also saw a castle to his right, its grey stone, the perfect background for the greenery, as the orange-ish sun’s rays hit the walls. The moat was massive, to make sure intruders don’t enter.

Then, the bridge lowered, and an army walked out of the castle. Very disciplined, they marched in perfect rows, their longbow men at the fore, and their siege weapons following. He wished he could teach this style of preparation for battle to his soldiers. As he hovered above, he looked to his left and saw another castle’s gates open as an army streamed out.

There was a ground, an open area, where both the armies assembled, and faced each other. It was a big ground, approximately the size of ten football fields today.

The commander of the forces cantered up on his horse, and began addressing his soldiers. D. couldn’t hear anything; he was too high up, and he daren’t land. After a few minutes of talk, the commander turned, and faced the opponents. For a split second, they did nothing except stare at each other. Then, the commander pulled his sword out of his scabbard, and pointed it at his counterpart on the other side, while the other one did the same. Immediately, the longbow men lit their arrows and fired. “Maybe,” thought D., “that strange pointing of swords was a declaration of war. And yet, until the firing of arrows, no noise had been made at all. We always yell “HAR, HAR MAHADEV!” but this way of war is extremely queer.”

While D. was lost in his thoughts, the battle had escalated; swordsmen clashed, and fought to kill. Here and there, warriors were impaled, and others escaped. Cavalry men tried helplessly to jump off their horses as the poor animals were gutted. “There aren’t any war elephants . . . a pity . . . “thought D.

Then, disaster struck.

A longbow man’s stray arrow hit the flying machine, and D. almost fell out of it. It started flying off course, spewing smoke everywhere. For a moment, the entire battle stopped, and everyone looked up at the strange unidentified object flying around everywhere.

The machine then took D. all the way to the land known to us as Egypt, and began moving around in circles. Eventually, the centrifugal force was too much, and D. was sent flying off the machine. He landed on the ground with a massive thud, but the machine stayed up in the sky.

He tried jumping to reach it a few times, but it was way too high for him. So, he spotted a pile of stones beside, and inspiration struck him.

He began piling the stones on top of each other, in a kind of conical shape, but, instead of a circle for a base, he made it a square. With every layer, he stepped up one level. Soon, he came in level with the machine, and clambered on. According to some stories, a few Egyptians spotted him doing that, and did the same in other different places. I think that’s where the story of aliens helping the humans in building the pyramids began.

By that time, D. was exhausted, and as he stood on the machine, panting, hoping that the machine’s problem was fixed, and he could go back to that beautiful place with all the greenery, and get away from this sweltering heat.

But, no. As D.’s luck was like your chances of the Math teacher being absent, the machine dragged him east, all the way to Japan. He couldn’t help it. His nuclear missile locked and loaded and fired, completely eradicating two places, Hiroshima, and Nagasaki, I think.

It was just recovering when the WW II ended like that.

After a few hours, D. entered the coordinates of the battlefield, and the machine took him there. He noticed the greenery and the battlefield, and then he crossed the battlefield and began moving sideways . . .

‘Wait . . . what?’ thought D.

He crash landed in the first castle he saw, the one with the moat, and collapsed an entire two-ton section of castle stone inwards. He was lying in the machine, his face streaked with dust, as about a dozen guards surrounded him. He said, “I can explain—“

One of the guards interrupted him, and said, “Explain it to the king, when he visits in the dungeons.”


“Ayodhya’s dungeons are much, much better.” Said D., thin and starved-looking now.

“At least we gave dishes fit for a king to our prisoners.”

“And our Wi-Fi is so much better in the dungeons . . .”

A tough looking soldier came up to him, and opened the gate to his cell. He had been placed in solitary, because the other prisoners had complained about his nonstop chatter about Ayodhya, his flying machine, Ayodhya, Wi-Fi and Ayodhya.

The soldier said, in a rough voice, “The king wants to see you.”

The castle, on the inside, was pretty massive and well decorated. The king was clearly a big-game hunter. As he walked the halls, he noticed many deer, lion and bison’s heads adorning the walls. There was a red carpet leading to the royal seat, where the King and the Queen sat.

The Queen had a rather disgusted and disapproving look; the king on the other hand was cheery and smiling.

As he approached, the soldier announced D., and introduced the King and the Queen.

“I present King Arthur of the Round Table, and Queen Guinevere.”

D. bowed low, and immediately began apologising.

“My King, forgive me for completely destroying your entire front hall and giving you a skylight that you evidently didn’t want. Also, forgive me for insulting your Wi-Fi connection, and—“

King Arthur (KA.) interrupted, “Dude, chill. I wanted the skylight. The missus had a problem, see.”

“The destruction of my hall wasn’t the topic I wanted to talk to you about. It was actually about your kingdom, and your exquisite flying machine. The real one, not your clothes, okay?”

KA. and D. immediately hit it off, and covered almost every topic under the sun, except maybe the sun. The King was extremely fascinated by the machine, and asked dozens of questions about it, concluding with the fact that D. machine was being fixed by his best engineers.

Then, the King took D. for game hunting, and came back victorious, in the sense, lots of animals killed. My best guess is that PETA didn’t exist at the time.

This went on for a few days, until D., on one fateful day, shot another small boy in the forest, and Déjà vu took him back to that one time in the forest in Ayodhya . . .

He had accidentally shot the apprentice of the great sorcerer Merlin.

Merlin felt a slight disturbance in the Force, and figured out quickly that his favourite apprentice had been shot. He flew to the scene of the crime, and yelled at D. in anguish

“You think that just because you’re a king, you can do anything you want, kill anybody you wish?!”

“You do not know what it is like to be small, and cast out. So cast out that one would come to a sorcerer, and ask for work!”

‘I will make you feel that. From now on, until I reverse this curse, you will be so miniscule, nobody will notice you!”

D.’s eyes widened, and he ran to Merlin, and cried, “Please! Not another curse! I think your Ayodhyan counterpart already did—“

He couldn’t speak anymore, as he was slowly growing small . . .

By the end of that process, he had become an ion. A charged particle of matter.

Merlin, on the other hand, shrugged and walked away, saying, “Ohh . . . these things really try us!”

D. was spooked, obviously. He had absolutely no idea what was going on, and was wondering where he was. He didn’t know that he was an ion, so . . . no Nobel Prize for that discovery.

Now, we’ll put a stop to D. story for some time, as we go back to KA., who was brooding on his throne.

“It’s a good thing he’s gone!” said the Queen irritably; she still hadn’t forgotten that the unneeded skylight was made by him.

He had ordered dozens of his men to scour the forest, looking for D., but so far . . . not so good. After many weeks of searching, KA. called Merlin to help him look for D.

Obviously, KA. was the King . . . so Merlin had no choice except to tell His Majesty the truth. Upon hearing this, the King, enraged, stood up and almost yelled, but then held his tongue. He thought, “Oh man . . . this dude isn’t just anyone. He might make me a chameleon or something if I did something to offend him . . . I should probably ask him to reverse his curse . . .”

He did so, and Merlin said, “Your Majesty, he killed my faithful apprentice. I would need a good reason to turn him back . . .”

KA. did some quick thinking, and called the astrologer, who could actually predict exact futures.

He said, “M’lord, your friend is actually a king of a kingdom far away. He will have four sons, of which one will actually is destined to fight an epic battle that will shape beliefs in that land. Also, he is destined to meet you (but that’s another story for another day). Every child will grow up learning about D.’s son’s battle. But, if D. stays as a miniscule person . . . whatever he is now, this will never happen.”

Merlin relented, and brought D. back to normal.


Of course, he fought beside KA. in the battle against Lancelot.

He had spent time as an ion, so when the battle began, he was the first to yell




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