Chapter 85: Chapter 83: Rules For Fishern... Kamsa Vadha Utsava....
(A/N):
Drop a
here that you find funny. Or reflects your mood.
Guys I hope you put more comnts and power stones... Which will encourage ...
I was thinking about adding local deities too to the story. Any thought about This idea.
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The Trivenivrata kingdom possessed three major harbors in total, each integrated directly into the defensive structure of the city itself.
High stone walls surrounded the harbor basin, while towering iron gates stood between the river streams and the interior waterways of the kingdom.
Unlike ordinary gates, these massive doors slid upward into the walls when opened, allowing boats and ships to pass through.
Devara guided them toward the edge overlooking the water. While all of them were srised by the beauty of the harbor before them.
"This harbor connects to the streams of the Yamuna River,"
He explained calmly turning to look at the fishern community peoples.
"Since your communities are most familiar with these waters, this side has been assigned to you."
The fishern listened carefully to his explanation.
"You may fish both inside the protected waters and outside the borders,"
He continued to explain to them about the rules.
"Fish and other aquatic life pass freely beneath the gates, so the rivers here will remain abundant."
Several among the fishern visibly relaxed hearing that.
But then Devara’s tone beca firr.
"However, if you leave the borders, you must remain within sight range of the watchtowers."
His gaze shifted toward the towers positioned strategically along the waterways.
"It is not to restrict you. It is to ensure your safety."
Dashraj nodded imdiately, understanding the importance without needing further explanation.
-Nod!
Then Devara signaled toward one of the soldiers, who brought forward folded scarves made from thick cloth.
Each carried two colors.
Red on one side.
Yellow on the other.
"This,"
Devara said, handing one directly to Dashraj,
"is for communication and warning."
The fishern exchanged curious looks.
"If your community is ever in danger,"
Devara explained as he pointed at the flagpole,
"raise the scarf on the harbor flagpole with the red side facing toward the kingdom walls."
His expression remained calm, but serious.
"If enemies threaten you... if spies attempt to use or infiltrate your communities... or if sothing feels wrong, the red signal will imdiately alert the guards."
Then he added sothing else.
"If you are ever captured or forced to return back from outside the borders under threat, wear the scarf around your neck with the red side outward."
That made several people stiffen slightly.
"...."
Devara noticed their reaction.
"I would rather investigate a hundred false alarms,"
He said steadily with serious expression,
"than fail to protect even one innocent person."
The tension eased again from the shoulders of the fishern. Then Devara continued not stopping.
"If you rescue unknown people from the rivers, they will still receive treatnt and aid. But they will also be investigated thoroughly before being allowed deeper into the kingdom."
Vidura, standing nearby, gave a faint approving nod at the layered security.
He had just arrived to the harbor before Devara and others since he knew they would arrive here.
Finally, Devara pointed toward the yellow side of the scarf.
"This ans safe passage. Wear it visibly when returning normally."
He looked toward the harbor guards and soldiers nearby.
"Every returning boat and ship will be inspected. That is their duty."
His voice remained even.
"But if any guard abuses that authority..."
For the first ti, a sharper edge entered his tone.
"If anyone demands bribes, threatens you, or acts with corruption—You co directly to the Royal palace."
No hesitation in his tone.
"No matter who it is."
The fishern looked at one another quietly after hearing that.
"...."
"...."
"...."
Because many of them had lived their entire lives hearing how one needs to be under local officials, guards, or tax collectors who treated common people as expendable.
Yet the future king of this newly established kingdom standing before them was openly telling them to report corruption directly to him.
That alone felt unreal.
Dashraj studied Devara carefully for several monts.
"...."
Then slowly bowed his head.
Not as a subject to a ruler. But as one leader of a community acknowledging another who does good for that community.
And behind him, many among the fishing communities began to feel it too—For the first ti in generations—They were not rely being allowed to survive at the shores and fend for themselves.
They were being included in the kingdom itself.
After finishing his explanation, Devara allowed the fishing communities ti to properly explore the harbor that would now beco part of their lives.
Groups slowly spread across the docks and waterways, examining the gates, the canals, and the watchtowers with growing familiarity.
So of the older fishern were already discussing river currents and ideal docking areas among themselves, while children ran excitedly along the stone pathways, staring at the boats moving beneath the massive walls.
Satisfied that they were settling comfortably, Devara stepped back.
"...."
Before leaving, he glanced once toward Satyavati, who was still surrounded by her parents and several mbers of the community.
The warmth on her face was unmistakable.
So he left her there.
Not as Rajmata. But simply as a daughter reunited with her family.
As Devara walked away from the harbor district, he was soon joined by Mahamantri Vidura.
"The sages have arrived,"
Vidura inford him calmly.
"Those renowned for dicine, herbs, and healing sciences."
Devara nodded imdiately.
-Nod!
Earlier invitations had been sent quietly across different regions, requesting the presence of respected healers and scholars willing to help establish Trivenivrata’s dical foundations.
Devara want’s to build a strong foundation on dicine here.
Which he believes will be the one of the root of this kingdom.
If the kingdom was to grow, it would need more than soldiers and walls.
It needed physicians, herb specialists, and knowledge capable of protecting lives during peace as much as war.
Avoiding any diseases which might spread around through contact.
"They’ve been escorted to the palace with full respect,"
Vidura added with a smile knowing what was on Devara’s mind.
"Good,"
Devara replied letting out a sigh.
-Sigh!
"Let’s not keep them waiting."
Since the royal chariot remained with Satyavati at the harbor,
Both of them continued on foot through the palace avenues while discussing preparations for healing centers, herb gardens, and future educational halls.
anwhile, back at the harbor, Satyavati remained seated beside her parents near the riverside docks, visibly happier than she had been in years.
"...."
"...."
"...."
The formal restraint she carried inside political halls had faded completely.
She laughed more easily. Spoke more freely.
And before long, several fishern and children had gathered around her, listening curiously as she spoke about Trivenivrata’s young founder.
"You should have seen him back then,"
She said with a faint smile.
Her father listened quietly while her mother shook her head fondly, already recognizing the tone.
Satyavati rarely spoke about anyone this way.
She began from the beginning.
How Devara had first arrived alongside Bhishma.
How he had openly opposed forcing Gandhara into submission.
How he had even stood against Bhishma himself to defend the dignity of princess Amba.
That alone made several fishern exchange surprised glances.
Even through they heard the story before. But hearing from Satyavati’s mouth is different.
But the stories only grew stranger.
She described his performance as Shiva during the Gandhara’s stage play, drawing laughter and amazent from the younger listeners.
Then her tone shifted as she spoke of Kamsa.
The confrontation with him. The war which happened due to it.
The black phenonon in the sky that seed capable of swallowing even light itself.
The children listened wide-eyed while even the older fishern grew silent.
"...."
"...."
"...."
Satyavati herself unconsciously lowered her voice when she described watching through the maya screen as Devara risked his own life to stop it.
And finally—His transformation into Lord Narasimha.
Several among the gathered people instinctively folded their hands hearing it spoken aloud.
To them, these sounded less like stories and more like events from another age returning to life.
As the story finished with the Kamsa’s end.
Then suddenly, midway through the conversation, Satyavati paused.
"...."
She rembered sothing.
"Father,"
She said, turning toward Dashraj,
"do we have a young fisherwoman nad Yami among our communities?"
Dashraj raised an eyebrow slightly.
"Yami?"
He repeated thoughtfully.
He leaned back, searching his mory carefully, but after several monts slowly shook his head.
"I don’t recall anyone by that na."
Satyavati then explained the story Devara had told her earlier.
How he had once saved a young won near the Yamuna shores years ago.
How she had thanked him by giving him a pearl necklace carrying the blessing of Goddess Yamuna without seemingly realizing its value.
And how Devara now wished to return it.
That detail made Dashraj thoughtful.
"...."
A blessed pearl necklace was not sothing ordinary fishern would casually possess.
Still, no clear mory surfaced.
After thinking for a while longer, he finally nodded.
"I’ll ask around, If there truly is a girl nad Yami among our people... soone will know."
Satyavati smiled faintly.
Around them, the rivers continued flowing quietly beneath the setting light of evening—As if carrying old stories slowly back toward the shore where they had once begun.
The stories spreading across Bharat did not stop at Gandhara or Hastinapura.
They traveled through rchants, wandering sages, caravans, pilgrims, and ordinary travelers carrying fragnts of what they had witnessed with their own eyes.
And nowhere did those stories burn brighter than in Mathura itself.
Madura Kingdom...
Because the people there had seen it.
Not as rumor. Not as legend. But directly with their own eyes.
They had watched Kamsa—the king whose na once carried terror—dragged through the streets by the very being they believed to be Lord Narasimha incarnate.
The mory had carved itself into the city forever.
So when word spread that the sa young man who had slain Kamsa was establishing a new kingdom called Trivenivrata, many in Mathura felt drawn toward it.
Not out of desperation alone.
But faith. Hope. Curiosity.
And wish they could live in that land.
Nearly five thousand people eventually chose to leave Mathura and travel toward Trivenivrata.
They ca from every background imaginable.
Artisans. rchants. Potters. Gurus. Farrs. Temple caretakers. Laborers. Musicians.
Even a few forr palace workers who no longer wished to remain tied to the shadow of Kamsa’s reign.
Yet despite the size of the migration, Mathura itself did not weaken from it.
The city was large, ancient, and deeply rooted.
Life there continued steadily.
And importantly—No one was stopped.
After Kamsa’s death,
Vasudeva had returned to govern Mathura as regent until his infant son ca of age.
Since Kamsa’s direct royal lineage had effectively ended, the responsibility naturally fell upon him.
Beside him, Devaki finally lived without fear for the first ti in years.
No locked chambers. No footsteps in the night.
No terror waiting for her child.
Now she could simply hold her son peacefully beneath open sunlight.
And when people approached Vasudeva seeking permission to leave for Trivenivrata, he refused to chain them to the kingdom.
"It is their choice,"
He had said calmly.
A ruler forcing loyalty through restriction would only recreate the very fear Kamsa once ruled through.
Many citizens chose to remain in Mathura for that very reason.
Not because they lacked reverence for Devara—Quite the opposite.
They loved their holand too deeply to abandon it.
Mathura was still their ho.
Their ancestors’ city. Their mories of their entire life is here.
Their gods. Their lands. And so, rather than follow Devara physically, many decided they would honor him differently.
A new tradition slowly began taking shape among the people.
Who made the decision. That...
Every year, on the day of Kamsa’s fall—The city would celebrate the liberation of Mathura.
Temples would light lamps.
Offerings would be made to Narasimha.
And stories would be retold of the young ruler who descended like divine wrath to free them from tyranny.
So called it Kamsa Vadha Utsava.1
Others simply referred to it as the Night of Liberation.
But regardless of the na—One truth remained unchanged.
Whether people travelled to Trivenivrata or stayed behind in Mathura—Devara’s actions had already crossed beyond politics.
For many ordinary people across the land—He had beco sothing larger than a king.
A symbol that tyranny could fall.
And that even in the darkest tis—Soone could still stand against it.
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(Author note:)
I hope you guys give
your opinion and idea’s.
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Festival nad after Kamsa’s death
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