Krishneshwari's eyes widened in disbelief. Standing before her, bathed in the dappled sunlight filtering through the trees, was a figure of unparalleled grandeur. A magnificent crown, adorned with precious jewels, rested upon his head. A powerful bow was slung across his broad shoulders, and a quiver of arrows was strapped to his back. A sword, sheathed in a scabbard of pure gold, was fastened to his waist. He was adorned with ornaments of gold, each piece reflecting the sunlight.

He was taller than any man she had ever seen, a towering presence that filled her with a sense of awe. His dark skin shimmered with a golden hue, as if bathed in divine light. He was not merely a man; he seemed to be a king that could rule over Indra, the greatest of best warriors to ever exist, a god among gods. His presence exuded an aura of power and majesty that dwarfed even the most powerful rulers she had ever encountered.

Her lips parted, a silent gasp escaping them. She felt a shiver run down her spine, awe gripping her heart. His face, imbued with a divine radiance, was remarkably pleasant. However there was a look of concern in his lotus-like eyes.

Krishneshwari, captivated by his presence, felt a strange sense of calm wash over her. The dispair that had gripped her moments ago seemed to dissipate, replaced by a sense of wonder. He was a being beyond human comprehension, a manifestation of the divine, and yet, his presence was warm and inviting, radiating an aura of kindness and benevolence.

From the stories she had heard, the legends she had read, she knew who he was. Tears welled up in her eyes, tears of awe, of fear, and of an inexplicable joy. She had heard countless tales of his courage, his compassion, his unwavering devotion to his duty. And now, he stood before her, a vision of divine grace.

It was Shri Ram.

The lord of Raghus, his gaze fixed on Krishneshwari, walked towards her. He was a towering figure, his height dwarfing her own. She stood up, yet barely reached his hips.

"Yeh tum kya kar rahi thi ?" He gently scolded her, his voice a low rumble, firm yet filled with worry. "Anumaan bhi hai, ki tumhara jeevan kitna mulyavaan hai ?"

Krishneshwari sighed, her shoulders slumping. "Mujhe chhod sabko mere jeevan ka mulya pata hai. Kya laabh hai aise laksh-heen, arth-heen jeevan ka ?" she murmured, her voice barely audible.

Shri Ram's gaze softened, his eyes filled with compassion. He knew about the curse of Shukracharya, the veil of forgetfulness that shrouded Krishneshwari's divine identity. He gently placed his hand on her head, his touch radiating warmth and reassurance.

"Yadi tumhare jeevan ka koi arth nahi hota, toh yaha tumhe kyu bheja jata ?" he said, his voice a low murmur. "Iss prithvi par koi akaran nahi ata. Visheshkar tum jaisi divyatma, jo keval ek mahaan udeshya ki purti hetu janm lete hai iss lok mei."

Krishneshwari looked up at him, a flicker of confusion in her eyes, "Kaun divyatma ? Kaisi divyatma ? Mai toh keval ek sadharan manushya hu."

"Tum aur sadharan ?" Shri Ram shook his head, "Yeh praja se puchna, jinke liye tum ek pavitra aastha ho. Yeh unn sabhi Rajao se puchna jo kisi ke samaksh aakh bhi nahi jhukate kintu tumhare aage nat-mastak ho jaate hai."

Krishneshwari shook her head, "Bhram mei hai sab. Mujhe woh Akhand Maharani kehte hai... Aur jabse ayodhya aayi hu, sab Rameshwari keh kar puj rahe hai. Aapki putri ! Jisne vishwa ko jeet liya tha ! Uss Rameshwari ke saath meri tulna kar rahe hai. Aap hi bataye, kya mai Rameshwari hu ?"

Shri Ram chuckled, a low, resonant sound that echoed through the forest. "Nahi nahi.... Tum Rameshwari nahi ho.... Meri Ramey bhinn thi."

Krishneshwari looked at him, her eyes wide with curiosity. Shri Ram smiled, a knowing smile that held within it the weight of ages.

He continued, "Ramey ati saral swabhaav ki thi, kintu tum atyant chatur ho. Woh Rajnitigya thi, tum kutniti mei parangat ho. Vishwa par vijay paane ke liye, use shashtra ki awashyakta padi, parantu tum bina shashtra uthaye yudh jeetne ka bal rakhti ho."

Krishneshwari was bewildered. "M-Mai samjhi nahi.... Kaun hu mai ?"

Shri Ram smiled, a mysterious glint in his eyes. "Uska uttar toh tumhe swayam dhundhna hai." 

He knelt down at her level, his eyes meeting hers, his hand reaching out and gently cupped her face, his touch warm and reassuring. "Dhundho use jo tumhare bhitar hai. Woh jo tumhari indriyo, man aur buddhi se pare hai. Jo ek jyoti ke bhaati tumhare bhitar hai. Dhundho use."

"Kise ?" Krishneshwari, confused, tilted her head.

Shri Ram's smile deepened. "Tat tvam asi," he whispered, his voice a low hum. (That which you are.)

The meaning of the words, however, remained elusive. What did it mean? Who was 'that' ? Krishneshwari looked up at Shri Ram, her eyes wide with a mixture of awe and confusion. He leaned down, his eyes filled with a gentle warmth, and gently kissed her forehead. The touch, fleeting yet profound, sent shivers down her spine.

Then, in a flash, he vanished, disappearing into the very fabric of the forest. Krishneshwari gasped, her eyes searching for him, but he was gone, leaving behind only the lingering scent of sandalwood and a sense of profound peace.

Suddenly, she heard a groan. Her father, Dilip, was stirring, his eyes fluttering open. Aarvi, too, was waking up, stretching her arms and yawning. Around them, the guards and servants were also beginning to stir, groaning and rubbing their eyes as they awoke from their inexplicable slumber.

Yet, no one questioned what had happened. No one asked how they had all fallen asleep so suddenly. It was as if an unspoken agreement had been reached, as if they were all bound by a shared amnesia. Krishneshwari, however, knew better. She knew that it was not mere coincidence. She knew that it must've been Shri Ram's doing.

Krishneshwari looked up at the sky, the setting sun painting the clouds in hues of orange and purple. Her mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, the words 'Tat tvam asi' echoing in her mind. She felt a deep yearning for answers, a desperate need to understand the true meaning of her existence. But who could guide her ? Who could explain the profound wisdom hidden within those three simple words ?

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A/N

TAT TVAM ASI

One of the four Mahavakya of Vedic Philosophy, Tat tvam asi translates to 'That thou art' or 'Jo tum ho' and is found in Chandogya Upanishad which belongs to Samaveda. The phrase is a fundamental teaching in Vedanta, and emphasizes the unity between the individual soul and the Supreme Self or Parambrahm.

The four Mahavakya are as follows -