The Hunter's Arrow
The sage was walking along the bank of the river Tamasa one bright morning, admiring a pair of krauncha birds circling each other in an unhurried, contented courtship, when a hunter's arrow cut through the air and struck the male bird mid-flight. It fell, and its mate began to circle the spot with a cry so raw and unbroken that felt it enter his own chest before he had time to think. Without any conscious intention, without any prior thought of composing a single word, a sentence broke from him in perfect, measured rhythm — a curse upon the hunter, born not of anger alone but of grief transmuted, instantly and involuntarily, into verse. stood frozen at the riverbank, staring at his own hands as though they belonged to someone else. He had not decided to speak in metre. Metre, it seemed, had simply arrived, uninvited, dressed as sorrow.
✦ Visual cue — A sage in simple robes standing frozen at a misty riverbank at dawn, one hand outstretched, as a single krauncha bird falls from the sky while its mate circles above in grief, ripples spreading across the water.