The Ramayana retold: Tara’s tumultuous life as she first becomes Bali’s queen and then Sugreeva’s

I had seldom witnessed a more ferocious phase in my life. Heat waves had gripped the world. They melted the glaciers, unsettling Mahadev in Kailash. Blocks of ice surged into the Gangotri, flooding the plains below. Incendiary debris fell onto the turbulent surface, emitting thick smoke. Sea animals fled towards the sweet waters. Those who couldn’t escape perished in the boiling waterbody that was once their trusted habitat. Fiery winds carrying a repulsive stench charged northwards, accusing the great god of severe injustice.

A forest fire had broken out on the outskirts of Kishkindha, and it was spreading fast. Our land, along with its residents, would be wiped out if the calamity was not contained right away. The vanar women rushed forward to throw water at the flames. The fire seemed to have opened its mouth with demonic hunger. The roasted flesh was insufficient for its insatiable gluttony. Only the rains could quench this inebriated.

“Rocks. Dump rocks!” I commanded. “Keep up with the water.” I grabbed Bali’s mace and rushed towards the Pampa. The girls stopped abruptly. Without wasting time, they divided themselves into three groups. One ran behind Ruma, balancing as many rocks on their heads and shoulders as they could. This task wasn’t...

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