A sojourn it is.
❝His scent is petrichor. He shall always be the golden page of my recollections, of beautiful memories. The greatest archer of the time❞
Derived from the Sanskrit word स्मरण (smaraṇa, "the act of remembrance, remembrance, reminisc...
Arjun pinched the bridge of his nose and rose from the bed with a the incidents of the evening turning tumultuously in his mind. Was I rude to deny an apsara that way? He thought as he lit some mystical flower scented candles to ease his growing anxiety. No doubt I wasn't rude, she was the consort of one of my ancestors, she stands at the place of my mother, a teacher for teaching me the art of dancing and singing, a nymph in Lord Indra's court and these all vouch for your statement. He walked towards the white drapes covered windows and opened them, to let the balm of this moonlight heal him. A small necklace of pearls glinting in the silver serein.
That-that dream was just a distraction to ward me from my aim, I must focus on my skills. My love is truly capable to stand as a queen. Thoughts, introspective words and pondering, all weaved and sewed his heart.
Parth sighed looking at the blooming and glowing red verbena valley sprawled endlessly on the west horizon of Amravati. A butterfly in colours of rain washed yonder flew from the seraphic gold amphora with paintings of parijat ivy in enameled gems and perched on his scarred index finger which tightly clasped the gold panes of window.
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"Oh what a fiasco I bought, fiddling with the apsara. I put her at the state of a mother and she expects me to—?" raising his fingers he confided with the butterfly who flapped her small pulchritudinous wings gradually as if in an answer. "You know if Parthjaya would have been here-" and stopped the doyen archer immediately, more as abruptly in his words. He winced and closed his eyes only to see that face he was seeing in his dreams and visions from years. How could you?
You are in daze son" Indra walked inside the humongous and divine chamber where everything was immaculate in shades of pearls, from ceiling of serene clouds to floor of spilling elixir in a mist. The king of gods, god of rains and thunder made sure that his blessing to good woman Kunti shall stay with his god father. Oh how those matted locks, sand stained body and deer skin on it pained Indra such as he insisted Arjun to spend some of his days in Vaijyanta.
The Pandava prince had already acquired the fruit of his penance, the Pashupatastra from the destroyer of universe, Mahadev. If he was to believe the words of Indra, few saints and almost all the gods had claimed that his penance was so rigid and sincere with ardour that the Himalayas trembled and glaciers had melted due to his assiduity.
"If my finest apsara is not your ideal preference I dare say, you may choose anyone you want and this won't reach the ears of Urvashi or if it does I can make sure it will not offend her" the last words of Indra became a whisper coercing a giggle from the archer who turned and covered the distance between them. All these years with her, he was a tactician and had by now had mastered his skills of masking and hiding his emotions therefore his godfather wasn't able to deduce any nightmares from his disposition. If only it were that easy before the smart lovely woman, she could detect even the teeny worries from a lift of his brow and droop of his shoulder.
