Week 4 Story: Sampati and Jatayu

They say the invisible sky is an empire of its own without an edge,
With wind as clear and incalculable as the sea, some fish-like birds allege.
Both my brother’s heart and mine beat intimately as one,
Until a fateful race of flight when we were separated by the sun.

Blinded was Jatayu as he dove headfirst from Indra’s heavens high,
For lonely as the scorching star is as she's hung idly in the sky,
She’s bound to solitary confinement by her ultra-violet light.
Thus, my outstretched wing-ed barrier did little to obstruct her beams so bright,
And earthbound did I spiral, feathers scalded, toward Mount Vindhya’s height.

With visions of a flightless future and denied eternal rest,
My existence thus seemed only a cruel and useless test.
Instead vowed Saint Nishakra that my charred body could be cured,
And foretold that as compensation for a just deed would my senses be restored.

Alas, at once I was able to wade in Varuna’s cleansing shore,
Finally, as youthful and vigorous was my love of life just as it was before.
As predicted I was able to come to virtuous Rama’s aid,
And my health for his hope did we trade.

“Remember, please, my memory of Jatayu as you go reclaim your queen,
A valient vulture whose lost life can’t so simply be redeemed.
He was a brave and noble bird who was known to always intervene,
And befriend every single soul even when consequences were extreme.
I can only hope to mimic his moral example I so esteem,
And in this effort alone I would be living out his dream.”

A second chance I was given, from the ashes did I rise,
So why am I obliged to revisit the place of my demise?
I pity the poor sun so isolated from her solar system kin,
A celestial paradise so vast and secluding is so woefully grim…

Author’s note: 
(Based on the episode "Sampati and Jatayu") I ask that anyone who reads this be kind—this is the first time I have attempted rhyming verse since probably High School (long, long ago). I know some of it sounds awkward, but I am actually quite proud of myself even if my version is shorter and not as accurately detailed as the original. Also, I did spend a lot of time on this but as much as I wanted to edit it further, I had the Canvas due date to think about. I hope you enjoy my re-imagining of Sampati’s story in his own voice of the time he flew too close to the sun and was disfigured until he was restored to health as a favor for helping Rama on his quest for Sita. Other than my struggle to turn the PDE’s prose version into poetry, I tried to give a bit more depth to the characters which included personifying the sun, at least in Sampati’s eyes. I hope this insight into Sampati’s mind will make sense of his experience of being burned by the sun and losing his brother whom he so admired.

PS- I had a hard time coming up with a unique title for this story, so if anyone has a suggestion based on how they understood the story, I am all ears!

Bibliography: 
Author: Various
Title: Ramayana
Source: Public Domain Edition, Web

(Image Source: Graphic made by me, SumoPaint Photo Editor)

5 comments Story, Week 4

Week 2 Story: Consequences of being a "Con-man"

Mrs. Crain was well known to the small business owners in the tiny town of Lakeside as a stingy, shrewd, persnickety woman. Often when she would predictably find herself unsatisfied with a service or a product, she would not hesitate to haggle the person in charge with threats of humiliating the business in online reviews until her check was covered.

Her current target— “Mr. Crab’s Seafood Shack and Market,” a small eatery serving fresh fish, crustaceans, and shellfish, both a dining and market experience. As a way of increasing sales on a slow weekend, Mr. Crab started a limited time offer as could be seen on the tagline below his storefront sign: “All you can eat fish sticks Sunday starts today!”

The conniving woman wondered how she could cash in on such an offer. Mrs. Crane was more than a penny pincher or a couponer, Mrs. Crain always had an appetite for swindling her way into a savings.

Ding! The hostess looked up from her position behind a stand stocked with menus and silverware. She glanced up with a greeting and a smile, “Welcome to Mr. Crab’s Seafood Shack! Party of one?”

“Yes,” Mrs. Crain spit coldly at the chipper woman before she led her to her table seated by one of two bubbling tanks full of beautiful, exotic fish swimming and sitting beneath live plants which swayed elegantly with the movement of the water. The store was exceptionally small and quaint, with an assortment of potted plants along the walls and paintings of rolling field landscapes. These features, along with the fish and the soft music combined to create a relaxed, earthy environment.

Before long, an aproned man approached her table to take her order. He was a strong, middle-aged man, whose skin was a taut, shiny shade of sunburnt red. “Welcome in,” he grinned as he pulled his notepad out of the front pocket, “I see you are here to have at our new limited-time “all you can eat fish-stick Sunday, are you ma’am? As you can see, my business here has yet to pick up speed, but our white-fish fish-sticks are locally sourced, hand-breaded in-house and fried to perfection—a really popular classic!”

“Mmmm… Indeed I am,” she said, “you better be careful with a steal like that, unless there is some small-print I’m not aware of?”

“It is dine-in only, but we are delighted to offer our guests a bang for their buck!” he replied.

Before long, her first, then second, then a third plate of fish sticks were delivered and devoured. Mrs. Crain was growing full but her greed for getting the most for her money gave her an idea on how to circumvent the no-carryout policy for the all-you-can-eat dish. While the owner was off attending to other tables, she slowly started sneaking her plate’s contents into her purse and continued to request refills.

 After noticing his patron had put away an inhumanly possible amount of food, Mr. Crab started to grow suspicious. After a couple hours went by, other customers had come and gone but “ravenous” Mrs. Crain was demanding platter after platter until he had none left to offer.

“Ma’am, I’m sorry to say that you have cleared out our stock” said Mr. Crab, “Can I prepare your check?”

“What shoddy customer service! I suggest you compensate me the price of my meal or I will make certain your business gains a reputation for cheating your customers!” Mrs. Crain upturned her long neck with indignation, her mouth pursed into a scowl, holding her bulging bag to her body in her lap.

Mr. Crab was a stand-up businessman who cared about customer satisfaction, so he comped her meal. Mrs. Crain was indignant, however, and insisted further: “What kind of restaurant rushes their customers?!”

“Is there anything else I can get you, then?” Mr. Crab asked, internally frustrated but adamant on maintaining his composure with this challenging woman.

Mrs. Crain looked to the tank on the far wall near the counter for the small seafood market. Greedy for getting as more, she persisted, “I demand your FRESHEST crab, TO-GO! I would rather make my own crab bisque at home rather than eat here ever again!” she barked loud enough to elicit the crowd’s eavesdropping eyes and ears. It was her pleasure to cause a scene.

Mr. Crab set her up with his best live crab, its claws rubber banded for its own and his customer's safety.

“Look at this,” she went on, “animal abusers as well!” she shouted, looking around to ensure that all customers were paying attention to her pejorative critiques. Just as she gained an audience, with her one free hand not handling her bag stuffed with fish sticks, she reached down into the container “free the crab from his restraints” as an act of manufactured saintliness. Before Mr. Crab had a chance to intervene, the crab’s free claw instinctively and immediately pinched Mrs. Crain who upon reaction dropped both the bag and the container holding the crab.

Thus, with the traumatized crab and the stolen fish sticks on the floor, Mrs. Crain was found out. Ultimately, being a con does not pay off as Mrs. Crain came to find when she was charged her dues and ended up empty-handed.

It goes to show greed and treachery are not worthy endeavors, and an attempt to tarnish another’s character you only reveal the contents of your own.

Author’s Note: As you may see on my previous post, I talked about my thoughts on the short story mine is based on,“The Cunning Crane and the Crab” of the Buddhist Jataka collection. While I liked the moral message of the original about karma and bad character, the concept of revenge on the crab’s part did not sit well with me. What I tried to do with my own story was to maintain this message that appealed to me and eliminate the element of vengeance while still making sure that the wicked get their just reward. In this case, the consequences for Mrs. Crain's ("Crane's") greed and gluttony was entirely self-inflicted. My intention was that the results preserved Mr. Crab’s virtue (and the crab itself in a more symbolic sense as Mr. Crab’s resistance to argue with this customer whether he was in the right to do so or not). A goal of mine was to create a more “friendly” fictional story without death and murder that was a little more imaginative than just mirroring the original.

Bibliography: The Giant Crab, and Other Tales from Old India by W. H. D. Rouse

(Image Source: Needpix Stock Photos)

3 comments Story, Week 2