The entire realm was crowded with the seedlings of Amrapali. It has been the middle of the autumn. Their master loves one taste among the thousands of mango flavors - the flavor of Amrapali, a rare gift crestfallen with Adams from Heaven as if only for the master. They are on a mad chase to confirm how many seedlings they can obtain, as the master wishes the estate to be greenery by the Amrapali leaves. Someone in the people, who were in the chase group whispered,
"If we could have known before the rain had left for the autumn."
A rumor flared up like the volcanic eruption of anger and discontent as if it were the same as blasphemy, and who blunders the chance of attaining favor from the master?
"It must be our pledge; we must do or die; we never let the master dry out sans the taste of Amrapali for a single bit of second."
"People chant, 'When you awake when you sleep."
"Dream - dream - Amrapali," others responded.
They crossed the first level of succession; the master now delivers a brief speech about how much he trusts the will of the people and the wish of the common mass, though he did not announce the winner of the crest for this time. Instead, he let them believe in a grand revelation at the closing ceremony of the racecourse.
"Now it is your time to realize the will of the state; you are at the final step of accomplishing your valued desire to live with dignity and die for the cause of it."
They heard the voice from afar, though they had never seen him stand by. They only learned he possesses magical power, and a glowing beam surrounds his complexion. He is unexplainable, out of context, cunning, calculative, judgmental, and celestial. He feeds on ambrosia; he has one weakness, which is his extra-indulgence to Amrapali. He can leave his life for Amrapali's cause. As he says - though it was a heresy, Amrapali has a long-rooted history for his craziness that he hopes to share someday.
An unexpected number of seedlings filled the lawn; they were at the nursing stage there. Cackling and guzzling have been uninterruptedly continuing; a festivity as if all reclaimed long-cherished liberty, a sense of satiety upon viewing a blink of light after an unending stride in the labyrinth. They took fifteen more days to plant all of those seedlings. Now, seedlings are everywhere; days begin and end with the sight of seedlings. The old, arcane trees felled to supplant with Amrapali seedlings as if it were a Paliland, and the master was honored as the Amraking.
A special task force was formed, and they called a confidential meeting. The agenda was to protect the dying-out seedlings as ordained by their Amraking. The meeting began. They had no time to recite from the holy books or address the meeting formally. They just began by pointing out how to protect, as the dignity of the state rests upon the success of this mega project.
"I told before it was untimely to plant them…"
He could not finish his speech due to the clamor of protest and jeering at him. They retorted, instead, what is done is done. What next to sustain the will of Amraking?
The meeting ended with a recommendation. Another task forcewas formed to implement it. The only aim of this task force was to protect the seedlings. Five score helicopters flew over Paliland; they were on the task of down-pouring water. The day ended with the feeling of the rainy season coming! God saves our Pali land!
No way! No way! The seedlings are dying out. The plan is at the junction of collapse. They expect the Amrakingto intervene now. Only Heaven can save the land. The ponds, canals, and reservoirs are out of water. Aridity is at hand. However, the seedlings fail to sprout with new leaves. In addition, no one can determine what ails those seedlings. A team comprising geologists and environmental scientists arrived at Pali land at the Amraking's invitation, as was circulated in the media. The team had been experimenting for a week, and confusion and anger were growing in the people, who began to doubt the heavenliness of their Amraking. Now, they desire to confront their king, whom they do not know how he is! Someone consoled the masses before attacking the palatial abode of the king until the results from the team were published.
Today may be the doomsday! Today may be the resurrected day! The team was rumored to have flown away submitting the findings. The public crowded around the palatial abode to listen to the last word of consolation. The air was scattering at the uproar of the agitated mass. Then came the cherished clarion call,
"People! Now is the time to construct concrete over our soil. It is moth-eaten; it is rotten!"
This time, it did not pay back. Their blood burned out. They felt betrayed about their fate, labor, and beliefs.
"Attack! Attack! Suck the blood of the Amraking! "
They raided the abode-Ransacked of no significant belongings. A closet was found. A special force of thirty members was guarding it. They appeared zombies positioned against the mass while enraged with the touch of pelted sticks by the mass. The confrontation culminated in the carnage, a blood bath from both ofthem.
No king or queen was visible. A shingle, a white conch of zillions of crooked bodies, was placed on the cap of the crest of an Amrapali. The pillars were burning down as the mass watched out Rome's burning. A lizard came out of the conch that someone doubted as it happened in a flash of seconds. Was it a mirage? Was it a hallucination?
