Legendary Head Shave Tales
After days of journeying, Kaliya and Indumathi finally crossed into the outskirts of a small village named Pataliputra. At the village gate, they were greeted by a young man, about 25, with kind eyes and a curious smile. On his shoulder sat a blue-colored monkey that chattered excitedly. The monkey suddenly snatched the sword of Kaliya, thinking it was part of a game. Raju quickly scolded the monkey, calling it “Jaggu,” and apologized sincerely. “Maaf kijiye, he’s always mischievous,” he said with a nervous laugh.
He explained that Jaggu once belonged to a magician named Kirmada, who was defeated by god Krishna. Before dying, Krishna gifted Jaggu to Raju and told him the monkey would help him someday. Feeling bad for the trouble, Raju invited them to stay the night at his hut, seeing how tired they looked from travel. Raju’s hut was small but welcoming. Freshly cooked food were enough to comfort even a royal guest, though he didn’t know who they were. Without asking questions, he treated them with great care without hesitation.
Indumathi, hidden under sage robes, watched him with quiet interest. His selfless nature and silence impressed her, while Jaggu’s naughty antics kept irritating Kaliya. Later that night, as they sat by the fire, Kaliya finally asked, “So Raju, what do you do here?” Raju casually said he did odd jobs in the village. But when Kaliya revealed he was Senadhipathi of Dholakpur, Raju’s tone shifted. His eyes lit up. “How is Indraverma? How is Indumathi?” he asked, eager and nostalgic. Indumathi froze. She quickly gestured Kaliya to stay silent.
So, Kaliya lied, saying Indumathi was missing. Curious, Kaliya asked how Raju knew the royal family. Raju looked away, his voice softening. “My mother worked in their palace as a maid. Indumathi and I were childhood friends. There was a fire once. I saved her, but…” He removed his turban, revealing his bald head. “My hair never grew back.” Indumathi listened silently, her heart beating fast. Still in disguise, she tested him, asking questions: “Do you still like her? What if she’s no more?”
Raju didn’t recognize her, but he replied with dignity and honesty, “I don’t expect anything. I just want her to be safe. If she’s alive, I hope she is strong.” His genuine words lingered in the night air. Curious now, he turned to the sage. “Who are you?” he asked, trying to guess the stranger’s identity. Indumathi didn’t respond, only looking at the fire. They decided to sleep stopping the conversation. The next morning, Raju woke up a bit late, rubbing his eyes. But the guests were gone. He rushed outside where Jaggu responded “They left,”
Raju felt puzzled with a strange curiosity tugged at him. “Who was that sage?” he murmured. Meanwhile, back in Dholakpur, the people waited in hope. Their kingdom was lost, their king dead, and only Indumathi could restore peace. Kaliya guided her through a secret tunnel, avoiding every eye. Inside the ancient court chamber, Indumathi sat silently, asking Kaliya to call only the most loyal ones. She needed rest, but her thoughts were heavy—about her lost father, and the burden she now carried.
Indumathi quietly plans the final stand against Bheem. She divides her followers into three teamd—one to block outer ring sena, another to prevent inner sena from entering the palace chambers, and a third to silently eliminate Bheem’s main enforcers. She makes it clear—no soldier must be harmed unnecessarily; they are but men misled by manthrys. As the night falls, the mission unfolds. One by one, the traps fall into place. Bheem sleeps soundly, unaware. Kaliya steps forward to strike, but Indumathi halts him.
No sachha warrior kills the unarmed or the sleeping. She wakes Bheem, staring into the eyes of the man who corrupted Dholakpur. Startled, Bheem flees—not out of fear, but toward a secret chamber. While all believe he is running away, Indumathi senses something more. Inside the hidden chamber, Bheem seizes the sacred sword of Indraverma—a relic of divine power, enchanted by ancient chants. He slaughters soldiers effortlessly. Ministers fall. Even Kaliya gets wounded. Amidst the chaos, Indumathi is struck down.
Bheem mocks her—laughing at her ganja sirr, the sage robes, and the ashes of her pride. As he reaches to reclaim his sword, a flash of blue distracts him. A blue monkey holds the sword aloft. Raju storms in, freeing Kaliya and rallying the survivors. He lifts Indumathi, whispering hope into her fading strength. Jaggu tosses the sword, and with a single strike, Raju disarms Bheem—not killing, only weakening him. With quiet fury, Raju hands the sword to Indumathi. Eyes burning with dharma, she rises and cuts Bheem’s head with one clean stroke.
Shanti returns to Dholakpur—not through rage, but through dharma. As Indhumathi collapsed to the ground, her body drained and unconscious, Raju rushed forward and caught her in his arms. Blood trickled down her forehead. He looked around—there was no healer, no sage left. Without thinking, he scooped her up, her weight barely a burden against the weight in his chest. Barefoot and trembling, he carried her through the forest under the moonlight. Jaggu followed closely, offering water and holding branches aside.
Raju walked miles without rest, without fear—only love guiding him. When he reached Yogibaba’s ashram. The old sage saw the fire in his eyes and the lifeless girl in his arms. He acted immediately, crushing medicinal herbs, chanting ancient prayers. Hours passed. Finally, Indhumathi stirred, her eyes slowly opening. Her body aching, unsure of where she was, who had saved her. Indhumathi sat up slowly, supported by Raju’s arms. She turned to look at Raju who looked like someone who had walked through fire for her.
Yogibaba sat by her side and told her everything—how Raju had stormed into the ashram last evening, desperate to find her, begging for guidance. How Yogibaba had revealed to him that she was not lost, but transformed. “You had become something greater, to find yourself.” Indhumathi listened in stunned silence. She saw Raju’s eyes glisten with pyar. Kaliya arrived moments later on a royal rath with sena, narrating how Raju had carried her on foot, refusing any help, refusing rest, facing every danger for her sake.
That moment, something shifted in her chest—a deep warmth, a shyness she hadn’t felt since her father’s care. The people gathered at the ashram courtyard as Indhumathi slowly stood with folded hands and said, “Let me stay here… away from yudh… let me find peace.” But Kaliya stepped forward, “You are peace… for us, for this kingdom. Aapke bina we are lost” The soldiers bowed. Yogibaba nodded, “Dholakpur needs a queen, not just a warrior.” Indhumathi thought of the sacred throne, once her father’s, now her burden to bear. Raju stepped forward.
“But… what about me?” he asked, concerning. Yogibaba smiled knowingly. Kaliya objected, “He’s the son of a maid, she belong to royal family… how is this possible?” Indhumathi turned to face him, her eyes blazing with strength and affection. “This is my word. And my word… is my rule,” she declared. She reached out to Raju, her fingers intertwining with his. The kingdom didn’t just get its queen that day—it found a love written in fire, tested by fate, and crowned by destiny.
A few years later, Indhumathi and Raju returned to the ashram, this time as queen and king of peaceful dholakpur. With them were their twin children—playful and curious boys named Dholu and Bholu. Indhumathi knelt before Yogibaba, requesting him to guide their sons with bhudhi, anushasan, and sathy. She shared how her kingdom was thriving, the people content, and justice reigning with shakthi and dharma. Raju chuckled as he spoke about their playful, joyful marriage, while Indhumathi softly added how she still maintained her spiritual roots.
Daily meditation and her ritual of weekly mundans, keeping herself grounded in saadaran. Yogi Baba smiled, blessing the family and promising to mold the twins into warriors of virtue. As the sun set behind the hills, the family stood together—a symbol of shakthi, pyaar, and destiny fulfilled. Thus ended the legend of Indhumathi: the sage, the queen, the warrior of peace.
