The Trickster’s Gift: Naga and Ram’s Mythical Tale

Once upon a time, in a realm so distant that its storms would never reach your windows, there lived a people who honored a vibrant pantheon of gods. Among these was a Trickster, as every world must have. You will not be surprised to hear that, in the earliest days, this Trickster took the shape of a monkey and called himself Hanuman, though his true nature was far more cunning and restless than even the great Hanuman of legend.

Hanuman, eager to match the power of his mysterious father, spied on the Creator himself, desperate to discover the hidden language that shapes the world. In the beginning was the Word, he learned, and by shifting the letters of words, reality itself could be altered.

The very first word Hanuman changed was his own name. He became Anhuman.

His long, expressive tail fell to the ground, slithering away to live forever as a snake in the grass. His thick fur scattered into the wind, dancing in the auroras across the northern skies. His face grew smooth and radiant, as lovely as the shining gods themselves.

One day, as Anhuman admired his beauty in a pool of starlight, a bright rain fell, shattering his reflection into a million sparks. Each spark flew through the ancient forests and found the eyes of the watching monkeys. In the blink of a monkey’s eye, the trees were filled with upright creatures, walking without tails, carrying the spark of thought, imagination, and a hunger for power.

The Trickster, startled, caught one by the arm.

“Who are you?” he demanded.

“I am an human,” came the reply. “You have made me in your image, and now you must guide your family.”

And so, Anhuman tried to be a father to these new beings. For two days, which in the created world became two long Ages, he was content. But as all Tricksters do, he grew bored. Restlessness is the heart of a Trickster, and Anhuman yearned for mischief.

It was on a storm-wrapped day that Anhuman decided to play his greatest prank. A princess was being born to the Queen of the land, and Anhuman transformed himself into a dusty, barefoot wanderer with an empty bowl, knocking on the palace gates.

“Who are you?” the guard sneered.

“I am an human like you,” Anhuman replied, “but I am also a prophet. In return for food, I bring a gift for your Queen’s daughter.”

Curious despite himself, the guard led the Trickster through winding stairways to the royal nursery. As the Queen lay exhausted, the Trickster bowed and said, “Your daughter will be called Princess Naga. I leave her a gift, both wonderful and dangerous, which will awaken only when she joins hands with her dark twin. If you wish to keep her safe, keep her within these palace walls—and burn all your dictionaries.”

Terrified, the Queen called for the guards, who seized the old beggar and threw him from the turret window. But Anhuman merely chuckled, turned into a raven, and flew away.

Far across the kingdom, in a mud-walled hut where straw lined the dirt floor, the wife of a street sweeper brought her seventh son into the world at that same moment. The mother cradled him when a stranger appeared, cloaked in shimmering black feathers.

“Who are you?” she whispered.

“I am the godfather of this child,” the Trickster said softly. “His name shall be Ram. I grant him a gift of power that will awaken only when he takes the hand of his royal twin. But let him guard himself with silence, for ignorance will be his only shield.”

The women’s cries of fear rose so loudly that the baby Ram was deafened. For eighteen years, he lived in silence, safe from the dangerous magic that slept within him.

On her eighteenth birthday, Princess Naga confronted her parents.

“You have kept me caged within these walls, denied me books, friends, and freedom. You may be King and Queen, but I will live my own life now.”

Despite their fear, they could not stop her. So, Naga fled the palace, her spirit leading her through the winding streets toward the river’s edge, closer to the poorest quarters of the city.

At the same moment, Ram, now eighteen, stood by the mighty river, ready to end his silent life. As he prepared to step into the water, he felt a presence beside him and turned.

Standing there, radiant in silks and jewels, was Princess Naga.

“Who are you?” he gasped, speaking his first words.

“I am Naga,” she said, and he heard her voice for the first time.

“I am Ram,” he replied, “but you must not touch me.”

“Nonsense!” Naga declared. “It is my birthday, and I will do as I please.”

She took his hand, and the universe spun.

They found themselves astride a magnificent horse that galloped across the sky before settling into a deep, shimmering trance. Ram could now hear, and with each sound, he felt reality bend to his thoughts.

A hunted deer became a reed, turning aside the hunter’s arrows. Dogs became gods, and gods became dogs. Winter storms turned to blazing heat. Bound together, Naga and Ram were unbound; unbound, they were bound again. Every moment, the world twisted between word and anagram, faster and faster.

Anhuman watched from the shadows, laughter rising as he whispered on the breeze, “Together, you can change the world! All you need is the L-word. Take heart, and change your lives!”

In that moment, Naga and Ram unleashed the Evils of the Earth, which poured from the abyss to devour the world.

The Creator, father of Hanuman, saw the chaos and intervened. Becoming the air that carried Naga’s voice, he made her speak words from the mind of a man yet to be born:

“Just because some of us can read and write and do a little math, that doesn’t mean we deserve to conquer the universe.”

And then, another truth slipped from her lips:

“A masquerade can cover a sense of what is real to deceive us; to be unjaded and not lost, we must, then, determine truth.”

The Trickster’s ruse fell apart. The Creator’s voice thundered:

“You, my son, are not Anhuman but Inhuman. I will replace the evils of the earth with the loves of the human heart. All will be well.”

And so it was.

Except, the Princess returned to her palace, where she would remain forever, longing for the sky.

And Ram, the boy who learned to speak and to hear, stepped quietly into the river and disappeared beneath its eternal flow.

Moral of the Story:

Power without wisdom can unravel the world, but true change comes from the love, courage, and humility within the human heart.