Natyam | A Mahabharata Fiction

11.

Every time Bhishma Pitamah met me in his lifetime, he would give me a soft smile. His eyes would glaze and he would speak to me as if I was his own child. It was mostly in remembrance of my wedding.

My wedding saw the co-existence of the Kauravas and the Pandavas for the last time. Although they did not speak to each other, no one spat a poisonous word the others' way. It was...nice.

The day of my wedding, Arjun and the Kuru contingent reached our palace; only to be met by Karna and Nihaar. Behind them, I gripped the garland of lotuses tightly. My red sari was no longer red but practically white under the glazing Sun as the diamonds that were woven into the cloth began to shine. My nose ring sizzled against my skin. And through the delicate veil, I could faintly make out who was who. And yet, I looked beautiful. I know that because I peeped into a mirror before the veil shrouded my vision.

And as I watched a stern Radheya and a regal-looking Nihaar take charge as my protectors, the former made Arjun swear to protect me and look after me.
I remember rolling my eyes. A girl can take care of herself.

It was only after he swore my protection that Arjun was allowed to stand before me and accept the garland. He was offered one as well to drape across my shoulders.

And then we were whisked away in a sea of vows and promises and dreams and hopes...

*****

All Kuru brides were given a crown. A crown to signify her status and her purity. So when my own crown nestled upon my hair, I shuddered. I was never pure. I was arrogant and a rule-breaker. Men did not run my world, I did. No one gained my respect until they were deemed to be worthy. Additionally, I had the biggest 'flaw' a woman could have had at that point in time: self-respect.

The crown was a shimmer of gold and lapis. And shafts of light darted around whenever I looked in another direction. It made me wince. It was Dau who noticed my discomfort as Arjun and I took the blessings of the elders gathered.

His handsome and aquiline visage turned soft as he watched me gaze at the light my crown gave off. "Do not worry, Mrinali. Crowns do that."

I scowled. "I know that."

His smile widened and the glow of the diyas lit up his pale face. Then he spoke, in all seriousness, "Rajkumari, the crown holds weight. Let it settle on your shoulders. Let the duty and responsibility ripple through you. You are the influencer of a million women as the wife of a prominent kshatriya. Feel it and then let go of the emotion. Liberate yourself. The crown may be your duty but it should not chain the rest of your personality and blemish it into obscurity."

His words made me straighten my back and nod tersely. He smiled and stepped back, allowing me to go speak to the others.

Arjun and I stood together, meeting guests and royalty alike. That was when Kanha came to greet us once more. He smiled at us and then spoke to Arjun before coming to my side.

"How do you feel?" He asked, gleaming at me.

I didn't know I felt. My marriage was a blur of memory and promises and pheras. I suppose most brides feel that way—pheras are not necessarily about the groom and the vows that are made. They are more about not tripping over the hemline of your expensive and heavy sari in order to not look like a fool. The blush you see on brides' faces as they walk around the fire is not the reddening at the thought of the wedding night but it is the reddening from the effort of standing upright and walking in an attire that drags you to the floor.

"Delirious," I lied. "I cannot believe I am a wife."

Kanha smiled. I remember wondering if he caught my lie.

"You are walking into a family that has never known an ordinary birth in a few generations, sister. Be wary." Kanha foreboded, his brows clustering together.

I had never realised that until my wedding day. Not one Panduputra was of ordinary human descent. Neither was Pandu the biological child of his father. Not one Dhritarashtraputra was of ordinary birth either. Neither Draupadi, who was rumoured to be born out of the sacrificial fire. My eyes went to Arjun. Arjun, Indra's son. The child of the king of the gods. The full blow of it hit me like a mad horse rushing right at me.

"Kanha, these people are not entirely human." I stuttered, suddenly distressed.

I looked to Draupadi—proud and beautiful. And unreal. A woman who had not been birthed the normal way.

I looked to Yudhishtira. Unrealistically moral and honest. Yamraj's son. Divine.

I looked to Duryodhan. An indirect birth. Coming to life in a cocoon of vat. Unreal.

In front of them, I was human. Humane and ungraced with a common birth. The normal birth.

I remember thinking if I had chosen correctly. If my decision to marry Arjun was the right one. I looked to Kanha.

"Easy, now." He whispered lowly so that no one else could hear. "I am aware it is slightly irksome to walk into a family that is partly divine in inheritance. But that makes you unique, sister. You are human. You can make their divinity humane. You can soften their rough edges and make them break a few rules in life. They will come to need you. Need you to justify themselves. The divine cannot work in the grey. There is only black and white. But as a human," he breathed, "you can show them the grey and a whole spectrum of colours. Being human is a power unto itself, do not ever forget that."

I blinked back at him. Blinked at the rush of responsibility that had suddenly swooped in. I wouldn't know it then, but essentially, Kanha had asked me pick up a pencil and write history. There was power to me.

"So I must be drastically and devastatingly human." I declared, watching my husband's family laugh amongst each other. Their eyes twinkled with laughter. Even Draupadi seemed to be smiling.

Kanha nodded and turned to speak to his elder brother.

I looked to Arjun once more. My heart curled like a cat that purrs when satisfied. He looked beautiful. Inside and out. Flawed and yet, magnificent.

It was at that moment that his hand found mine and squeezed it. A sign of fortitude and resilience, filled with the promise of stability. Stability that neither of us could really offer the other in the future. Still, I smiled at our joined hands and squeezed back. Rajkumar Arjun gave me a sidelong glance and flashed a quick smile.

I would be human. I would show all of them the full spectrum of colours that life offered.

Oh, and if you're wondering, we did not make love on our wedding night. We did it two days later when we had finally run out of conversation and teachings to give the other.

*****
And lo and behold, they are married!
What do you think about them "doing it" after two days? ;)

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Love.