Natyam | A Mahabharata Fiction

24.

Let it be said that the departure of the Pandavas from their kingdom was terribly chaotic.

It was, most certainly, not as dramatic as you people have assumed it to be.

There were so many tears. It was a miracle there was no river cutting through the citadel already. Women wept, so did the men. Shouts echoed within the borders of Indraprastha.

I remember watching the scene. I remember how it gave me a glorious headache.

The palace, especially, was in a flurry. Servants rushed around, gathering clothes and jewellery. I never found out why. It was not as though the family would need them anymore. Maybe Krishna was carting it off to Panchal or Dwarka for safekeeping.

I turned my head just a little to watch my maids who were fidgety and flustered. They stilled as soon as they descried the angle of my vision. Beside them lay my luggage, all packed and ready to go.

Exhaling, I looked out once more. On the opposite side, there was a white, marble corridor. A maid was hurrying through it without actually running. Her solid hands carried a pile of brown and yellow saris. The colour was as dull as my mind at that point in time. No doubt, the maid was headed towards Draupadi's chambers.

No longer would my sister wear jewels. Not for a while, at the least.

I sighed at the thought and turned away from the heart-wrenching scene outside.

*****

Subhadra and I oversaw the stowing away of our luggage in a large palanquin. All of us, apparently, were being whisked away to Dwarka along with the children.

We stood in complete silence as the afternoon sun bore down on us with all its might.

I turned to look at my co-wife.

Even in tragedy, Subhadra was undeniably beautiful; like a doe, graceful in her grief. Her eyes had a tinge of red in them and her cheeks were puffy. She had been crying. Really bawling her eyes out.

But she hid it well, disguising sobs as sniffles, as if she had a cold. It fooled nobody though.

I remember opening my mouth to ask whether she was all right but hesitating. Of course, she was not all right. Who would be after the kind of tragedy we had been forced to suffer?

I closed my mouth go think of a better question; and then settled on one.

"How are you feeling, Subhadra?"

She sniffled again and did not look at me. "Truly? I am shocked. Shocked by everything that has happened, how the men behaved and with the adharma that happened in that sabha. How could they, Sister, how could they?!

"When Jiji came running in, crying and disheveled, I did not know what to do! And she rushed to the nearest room and slammed the door so hard, my ears were ringing. When Dau told me. . . I did not know how to react and then Arjun tried to console me and I was disgusted, disgusted!"

Her voice was so vehement, it shook me. That was the first time I had seen Subhadra in a state of passion. Yes, she loved Arjun dearly but there was something more in that moment of her outburst.

I simply put an arm around her as her tears came anew. She cried softly in my arms while we both stared at our luggage being carried.

Amidst the notes of Subhadra's sobs, I heard more wails from behind us. We turned to find the rest of the family coming out in simple attire.

Beside them, strode Dau and Kanha. Behind them, came droves of citizens, sobbing as though it was their last day alive. None of them stopped to acknowledge the citizens. It was very cruel. Or perhaps they could not look their subjects in the eyes at that moment. Perhaps they were too ashamed.

Subhadra and I came forward to meet them halfway and with as much grace as possible, I skipped over the men and sailed directly over to my sister.

The look that she gave me was plain and it pained me.

"Must you go?" I asked her one last time, "Let the brothers pay the price for their folly, the condition did not specify you, just them. Stay with Subhadra and I in Dwarka."

Draupadi shook her head softly. "I must go with my husbands, Sister. I want to see them suffer and I want them to see me suffer so that I can remind them of their faults. And thirteen years later, when we finally go to war, I want them to go into battle carrying the reminder I would have given them for thirteen years—injustice has been reigning and it is time to smote it to ash."

I found myself at a loss for words upon hearing her little speech. What could I say? She would have gone regardless of what I thought.

We stared at each other, in silence until Subhadra joined us.

Draupadi smiled feebly at the young woman and hugged her. "Take care of our children. Take care of yourself and Mrinali."

Subhadra nodded and then fell to her feet, taking her blessings.

Draupadi then turned to me.

"Look after yourself." I told her. After that incident, it was difficult to rely on men anymore.

She was strong and resilient, there was no need for me to assure her of that.

She fell to my feet and I blessed her.

"I will visit you soon." I promised. She simply nodded. With one last stare, she nodded gracefully and swept away with
the Pandavas. 

That was the first moment that demanded a prayer to God. I prayed, quite truthfully, in fact. Thirteen years, I promised myself, then there will be nothing to pray for.

How wrong I was.

*****

The children were creating a ruckus just as we were about to leave.

Draupadi's children were throwing a fit. The crying had been dealt with. Now, there was the denial and the whining. Everyone had tried their best to calm them, Subhadra, Kanha, Dau. Nothing worked.

With every adult that approached them to soothe them, the shouts became louder and louder. It did not help my headache. Neither did it help the stress I was under.

"BOYS!" I yelled.

Almost immediately, the commotion ceased. Each child looked up at me. Ah, finally, I could get things in order.

I spoke in my coolest tone, promising fury to anyone who dared to disobey. "You will pair up with a brother and follow your uncle, Dau's lead. All of you will pair up with one brother and climb onto your chariots. Nobody will complain or mutter, if I hear anyone doing so. . ." I let my irritation give them an idea of what would happen.

Meekly, they scrambled, pairing up with a brother and climbing onto their chariots.

I watched them until they were ready to leave and then motioned for the adults to step into their chariots too. Nobody said a word.

Finally, Dau asked the children, "Shall we?"

The children replied in chorus, "We shall!"

*****

Let the vanvaas period begin! Now, comes the real test. How do you think Mrinali will fare?

Let me know! Do keep voting and commenting. Have a wonderful day!

Love.