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(This is an article / story contributed by a member of Alummoottil® community. This is purely a work of fiction. All names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents in this article are the product of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, and/or actual events is purely coincidental and regrettable. ആലുംമൂട്ടിൽ® കമ്മ്യൂണിറ്റിയിലെ ഒരു അംഗം സംഭാവന ചെയ്ത ഒരു ലേഖനം / കഥയാണ് ഇത്. ഇത് പൂർണമായും സാങ്കൽപ്പിക സൃഷ്ടിയാണ്. ഈ ലേഖനത്തിലെ പേരുകൾ, കഥാപാത്രങ്ങൾ, സ്ഥാപനങ്ങൾ, സ്ഥലങ്ങൾ, സംഭവങ്ങൾ, സമയകാലാവധി എന്നിവയെല്ലാം രചയിതാവിൻ്റെ ഭാവനയുടെ ഉൽപ്പന്നമാണ്. ആരെങ്കിലുമായോ, ഏതെങ്കിലും സംഭവങ്ങളായോ ഇതിന് സാമ്യം ഉണ്ടെങ്കിൽ അത് തികച്ചും യാദൃച്ഛികമാണ് എന്ന് ഞങ്ങൾ ഖേദപൂർവ്വം അറിയിച്ചുകൊള്ളുന്നു.)
As the moon cast a pallid glow upon the scene, the heart-wrenching tableau unfolded before her eyes. The mother, her heart shattered, stood amidst the devastating aftermath—the lifeless forms of her beloved sons. Grief swelled within her, a torrential wave that threatened to consume her. With faltering steps, she approached their still forms, a Sivalinga clutched tightly in her trembling hands. It was a source of inner solace—a beacon of hope in the midst of her anguish.
Yet, as her cries of anguish echoed into the night, they seemed to dissolve into the winds, carrying her pain away like ephemeral echoes. There was nothing she could do but weep, her tears an uncontainable testament to the tragedy that had befallen her. The silence of the night embraced her sorrow, offering no solace or answers, only the cruel reminder of her irreparable loss.
"My dear...", a royal female voice softened by compassion reached the mother's ears. The Queen of Kayamkulam extended her hand towards the mother of victims in empathy, beckoning the grieving mother to her side amidst the solemn surroundings. Amidst the cacophony of howling winds and the clamor of the assembled crowd, a realization pierced through the tumultuous atmosphere—a moment of clarity that isolated a single voice from the chaos. In the midst of the tempestuous sea of sounds, it was the voice of the Queen that resounded with distinct clarity, cutting through the noise like a beacon of compassion amidst the storm.
Queen continued "I have witnessed the depth of your pain and loss, and in this moment of unspeakable sorrow, let my gesture bring some measure of solace."
In a voice fractured by grief, the mother uttered, "What can ever fill the void left by my sons' absence? How can I reside within these walls, haunted by the echoes of their laughter, by the memory of ceaseless waiting? They went for a journey from which they shall never return..." Her words dissolved into inconsolable sobs, her tears mingling with the relentless rain as she stood there, a portrait of heartache against the backdrop of an unforgiving night.
Queen replied: "Yes, nothing can ever fill that void, but this land has borne witness to your sons' sacrifice shall now be a sanctuary for you—a place where their memory can live on, where your love and their courage will be forever remembered." She bestowed upon the grieving mother the very land on which this heart-wrenching tragedy had unfolded, allowing her to find solace and refuge amidst the surroundings that held the memory of her sons.
As the days unfolded, the passage of time carried forth its silent journey, and eventually, a representative from the Lekshana family was dispatched to glean news of the brothers. Upon his arrival, he delivered the long-awaited tidings, a tale intertwined with tragedy and resilience, and it was this tale that would eventually find its way back to the Lekshana family. As the young man from the Lekshana family, the friend of the brothers listened to the messenger's account, his expression shifted from anticipation to somber understanding...
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