Expert - Sculptor

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It was raining stones. It was raining from all sides. It was raining from the front and the back. A large crowd of angry people gathered on the street, shouting and shouting. Aggee Wamma, who had been chased away, ran in fear and trembling. He was exhausted from running, so he stopped for a moment behind the house and breathed heavily. He looked to the north and south from behind the trees. The rain of stones had not stopped. He had not stopped running either.

Running, Aggaivam reached the banks of the Godavari River. He pushed his way through the crowd that had gathered on the banks of the Godavari River and sat down, exhausted, under a tree. The crowd was left behind. Their bricks and stones could not reach him. He had fled beyond the city limits.

Aggivarma was covered in dust. He looked down at his clothes. His clothes were torn to shreds. His legs were dripping with blood. His other limbs were also badly injured. Sweat and dust were caked on his face. The wrinkles on his forehead suddenly softened. A faint smile appeared on his lips. Aggivarma sighed.

The distant city of Nashik had awakened. It was busy with its daily activities. Dressed in colorful clothes, carrying water pots, welcoming the sun, and arching its back, the women descended the steps of the bathing platform. Then, after bathing and dressing, they climbed the steps of the bathing platform one step at a time. Aggivarma closed his eyes.

Holding a stone, Agivamma enters the meditation room. The stone hurts his leg. The city of Nashik, which gave him shelter, has become his enemy overnight. The one who welcomed him with loving arms is now throwing stones at him.

With a deep sigh, Agga Vamana opened his eyes. In front of him, the Godavari River flowed smoothly, making a soft sound. The river flowed like time. Leaving the land of its origin, it flowed along the winding path of the principle, and he did not know where it was going.

When did the ancestors come from the Gandhav region? Amidst the sound of the waves, Aggavarman heard the sound of horses' hooves. The waves moved forward. The horses moved forward. When they reached the region of Sorattha, the reins of the horses were loosened. The ancestors settled in that region. Somewhere in Sorattha, somewhere in the city of Nashik, a flower was floating in the river with a swift and swift speed.

I heard that during the reign of King Ashoka, the Yavanas (Greeks) ruled Sorattha. But now Ashoka is history. Sorattha is a prosperous country. A country with abundant rice and paddy. A magnificent country. But it cannot feed me. It cannot provide me with a livelihood. The soft fingers of the artist are holding the hard reins of a horse in Sorattha. The life of the uncertain people with no guarantees is like a river. There is no stability. It is changing.

Agga Vamara is thinking.

His father is a craftsman. He breathes life into the stone. The stone breathes life into his father's hands. His father is a creator. A builder.

Agga Vamara was speechless.

He who breathes life into stone cannot make himself alive. His blood has become sweat. Living has become the covering of death.

A great famine has come. The river is boiling. The earth is groaning. It is begging for rain with its mouth open. The rain is pitiful and cannot shed even a tear or two. The earth is unconscious. It is lifeless. The moving stone on the rock has stopped. It has fallen. The one who gives life to the statue, makes the statue live.

The artist himself has become lifeless. His father has left this world.

Aggaivammar's attention shifted to the city of Nashik. The tall temples and the spires of the temples were shining brightly in the morning sunlight. Bells were ringing. Gods and goddesses were being worshipped. It was not known where the unfinished statue of the deity had ended up. If it had been completely finished, it would have been installed in one of the temples as a deity and a deity to be worshipped.

Aggavarman stood unsteadily. He still had the same stone in his hand. He thought that Nashik was following him. It was a burden for him to leave Nashik and run away. His gaze fell on the river, which was flowing smoothly. Then he returned to the forest.

He was only fifteen years old when he worked for a wealthy farmer. He had many horses to look after. He expressed his desire to be trained by his father in the trade. However, he did not succeed. It was important for him not to be an artist, but to be a businessman. He still had to earn a living.

The demon devoured his father. He also killed the farmer. His mother, however, is unknown. People talk about her. Some say she was a Hindu woman. Others say she was an outcast from the Sakas. Aggivarma does not even know whether his mother is dead or alive.

When he had gone a little way, Aggavarman shuffled his feet and sat down again. His eyes fell on the rolling waves of the Godavari River. The waves were playing with the sunlight. The river accepted the dirty water with the same love as it accepts the fresh water, which is full of fragrance. Aggavarman surveyed. But the human society is not a river. The human society is a mountainous region. The trees and bamboos grow unevenly in each place. The human society could not give his mother shelter. It could not give him a place to lie down.

Aggivarma left home early. His life was carefree. He had no responsibilities. He wanted to practice his art. He wanted to continue his father's legacy. He wanted to maintain his father's legacy. The city of Nashik attracted him. The news of Nashik spread far and wide. Once upon a time, the kings of the Satavahana dynasty ruled that city. The silver coins minted with the seal of these kings and emperors were minted.

Even the country of Sorattha is recognized. There are great artists in that city. Great craftsmen are based. Fine artists are also honored. Agga Vamara is as fast as electricity.

With great speed, he crossed a distance of many eons and arrived at the city of Nashik.

This very city of Nashik is today throwing stones at him. Nashik respects art but does not understand people. But where is the place where people are understood? The world always wants to frown at people. It wants to frown.

After thinking this, Aggivarma stopped his shaky steps. He could not walk any further. He often looked towards Nashik. It was as if something had been forgotten in Nashik. The sun was also gradually rising. Mist and smoke were floating in Nashik. Nashik was busy.

The Godavari River is not the same. It changes with the weather. In the summer season, it is scorched by the sun. In the winter season, it is slender and graceful, like a young woman. In the winter season, it is remembered whether one is practicing the Dhamma. The soul

If it is changing, can the body remain unchanged? The soul of Nashik is changing like the Godavari River.

Now the Satavahana kings are no longer in power in Nashik. There is no peace in many places. Anarchy reigns. Discontent is widespread. Often the Sakas invade. The people are in chaos. They are in chaos.

During this time, Nashik had changed a lot. It had changed a lot. But Aggivarma now had no way to stay in Nashik. Nashik was his city, but he had almost no way to be a Nashiker again. He still thought that the crowd was following him. Aggivarma got up and continued his journey.

His body was slender. His skin was white. His face was pleasant. His hair was long and curly. He was tall and stout. His expression was calm and serious. The owner of these qualities, Aggivarma, walked forward step by step, brushing the dust from his tattered yellow clothes.

"That's the city of Nashik up ahead," an old man asked with a condescending expression.

"Oh... yes... of course," Aggivarma replied enthusiastically.

"Now... we've been traveling for many days, and now our journey is coming to an end."

| The old man looked at the woman who was following him. It was not far from Nashik. They went with happy faces. After many days, it seemed as if their plan had been fulfilled. It was as if a family had set out on a pilgrimage to Nashik. Seeing them so happy, Aggavarman smiled.

"Where did you guys come from?"

This time, Agga Vamara asked.

"They came from the Supreme Court."

The old man answered Aggivarma's question and continued his journey towards Nashik with slow steps.

“How many days does the Patitthana have to come?” “For many days.” “Why did they come here? Is it because there is famine there?”

"The famine is in our region. There is no famine in Pati. There is always plenty of rice and paddy there."

Agga Vamara became somewhat agitated. A