Work Text:
1600s India
“Odipoyina nee premani geluchukovadaniki, cheekati kadupunu cheelchukoni, malli puduthavu ra Bhairava!”
Sher Khan looks away as the bronze chestplate on the pyre catches fire. The guilt in his chest–- for not being able to protect his new jaaneman, for not upholding his end of the deal– doesn’t lessen, but his heart feels lighter for being able to help Bhairava out at least in the next life.
He’s an old soul, having been conquering nations around India for decades. He’s never faced the kind of true love Bhairava and the Udayghar Rani had seemed to have shared. The ease in which they talked to each other, the trust the Rani had in Bhairava, the way Bhairava leaped off the cliff after the Rani without a second thought, all let him know he’s made the right decision in undergoing the ritual.
Sher Khan hopes that they don’t have to wait too long to get reborn, though. He wonders what their new selves would look like, and hopes he’ll at least be able to see their reunion from hell.
1700s India
The sound of the throne room door opening behind him makes Kattappa turn, and then flinch. Flashes of lightning and candlelight illuminate Devasena, holding a newborn and already frozen in horror from guessing the truth. Has she seen Baahu’s corpse and made her way to the palace? Or did she come to find him, knowing wherever Baahu goes Kattappa will be right behind him? Either way, it doesn’t matter. Amarendra Bahubali is no more.
Kattappa had truly believed they would get a happy ending. Baahu had confessed to him, weeks later, that firing the arrows with his Deva the day the Pinjaris attacked had felt like deja vu, as if he had fired with her in a previous life. Kattappa had thought this meant they were meant to be. Yet, because of his careless mistake, Baahu had gotten demoted, then kicked out of the royal family. And what had he done instead of falling on his feet and asking forgiveness? Kattappa had stabbed his Baahu in the back. The only thing he could do now was save Devasena and his grandson.
Years later, when he has somehow outlived Devasena as well, Kattappa, now an old man needing a crutch to walk, watches as Mahendra burns the body of his mother, set to bury the ashes in the rebuilt city of Kunthala. He stares at the flames, and thinks about how her and Baahu’s marriage lasted two years, while her imprisonment lasted twenty-five. He wishes desperately that she and Amarendra can have another chance in their next lives, and brushes away the flames suddenly glowing brighter as a trick of the light.
1920s India
Venkateswarulu watches through the decades as Bheem, once the innocent man his nephew had fallen in love with, transforms into a mature rebel leader. His nephew had passed when he was twenty-six, in a raid against the British. While that hadn’t stopped Bheem from continuing his fight for freedom, Venkateswarulu knew a part of Bheem had been permanently destroyed.
The man had smiled less and less over the past fourteen years, smile lines being replaced by age and frown lines. Gone was the man who affectionately called him maama and complained about his nephew’s antics. Gone was the man who made sure to cook his nephew’s favorite foods, who had said that having Ram on his shoulders felt right , that Ram on the battlefield looked so handsome he should be a member of the deva sena.
And so, on the day Komuram Bheem leads his last raid, when Venkateswarulu watches the light go out of his eyes as his back hits the ground, lips curved in the first smile he’s seen on that face in years, Venkateswarulu does not feel sad. He knows there are more out there that will continue Ram and Bheem’s mission, that will take up the mantle of manyam dora . He only has time for a fleeting hope that Bheem can reunite with his nephew in heaven before there’s a bullet in his head.
1970s India
Too late, too late. Manoj Singha Roy was too late in recognizing his brother’s reincarnation, and Rosie lies content in Vasu’s arms, never to wake up again. Vasu presses his face against Rosie’s hair, fingers tapping out a rhythm Manoj doesn’t recognize on her arms.
“I’m sorry,” Vasu keeps repeating. “I found you too late, Anna.”
Manoj doesn’t understand the nickname, but there were a lot of things he failed to realize as a young man. He decides to let Vasu be, and makes his way back to the car in his wheelchair.
Along the way, he overhears Vasu sobbing, “You made me wait fourteen years, but I made you wait fifty.”
Manoj still doesn’t know what’s going on, but hopes that the couple will have better luck in their next life.
2000s India
It’s almost as if a switch has flipped in his head. Solomon jumps back, letting go of the knife in his hand. He had only picked it up to gut the next fish in his net, and suddenly, he had all these memories!
Was I really a murderous tyrant king? Solomon thinks to himself. That had been the reason for dropping the knife. One moment he was holding it over a fish, and the next moment his mind had imagined a human head. Wait, that wasn’t all. He had also been a slave to a royal throne, freedom fighting revolutionary, and then the owner of a printing press company?? Solomon shakes his head to clear it. Ok, he suddenly got all of his previous incarnations’ memories. So what? He still has fish to clean! The business won’t run itself!
“Oy, Solomon! Prepare a nice fish curry for us tonight!” Harsha struts onto the deck.
“Aiya, how many times do I have to tell you two!” Solomon stands and chases Harsha. “I am not your servant!”
Wait. Seeing Harsha’s face brings something back. His name in his first life had been Sher Khan, and that was the name Harsha had called him when they first met and Harsha had nearly drowned. Did that mean…
Indu comes over to the two of them and starts bickering playfully with Harsha, and Solomon decides to test his theory out.
“Bhairava!” he shouts at Harsha, and the reaction is immediate. Harsha’s eyes widen in recognition and his hand makes an aborted movement towards the knife Solomon had dropped on the floor.
“Olololo bulloda, I was right! It is you!” Solomon turns to Indu. “And you must be the Udhayghar Rani then!”
Harsha and Indu exchange a look. “Sher Khan?” Harsha asks hesitantly.
“The one and only! Wait, if you two knew me from my first incarnation…” Solomon looks at Indu. “Baahu?”
Indu gasps. “Maama?”
Solomon looks at Harsha. “Ram?”
“Babai?” Harsha responds.
“Wow, this is so cool!” Solomon is overjoyed. His two beloved nephews, right in front of him! And to think he almost killed them both in his first life.
“Maama?” Indu asks.
“Yes, dear?”
“Since you stabbed me, can you make fish curry for us tonight?”
Harsha bursts into laughter, and Solomon can’t put up a good fight with that line. Pretending to be annoyed, he prepares the curry.
Later that night, as he gets into his bed on the riverboat he had rented for Harsha and Indu’s honeymoon, Solomon hopes this will be it, that this life is Bhairava and Mitravinda’s happy ending after all the centuries they have been stuck in the same cycle of grief and death. And that someday he’ll find a lover as well. What? He’s lonely.