Natyam | A Mahabharata Fiction

31.

In the dusky eaves of the day, the capital of Matsya was still brimming with activity as Kanha, Arjun, Draupadi and I entered its gates. People were bustling around, hawkers were still selling their wares. There was a delicious smell wafting in the air. Someone was selling something wonderful. My stomach growled.

Beside me, Arjun shifted uncomfortably. He had taken on the avatar of Brihanalla and my, oh my, did he look wonderful. We were teasing him about his 'good looks' for at least half an hour on our way there.

"You look ravishing." I murmured in his ear. Arjun only growled.

"Just wait for this year to end." He promised.

The moment still makes me chuckle madly.

We walked in the streets, a kaleidoscope of foreign wonders, and made ourselves small and unnoticeable. I remember being grateful Bheem was not with us, his physique would have attracted far too much attention. Now that I think about it, I am not quite sure how he made it to Virat's palace unnoticed.

Kanha walked ahead of us, surefooted. The three ladies trailing after him. Abreast me, Draupadi looked at everything with hungry eyes, taking in the new surroundings. The forest must have become a dull routine. A change of environment was welcome for her I supposed.

I had never been to Matsya until that moment. Therefore, I watched the commotion of this place with wide, eager eyes. I observed everything, scanning the horizon before me until finally, the finials of the palace appeared from obscurity. Upon walking further, the domes and the minarets of the palace revealed themselves.

The structure was a magnificent red. Elaborate carvings decorated every turn of the sharp lines that made up the palace. Scenes of nature and mythology were carved at the base of the dome. It was a comfortable palace.

Soon, we were before the palace gates. The archway's carvings were similar to the ones on the dome; and it was heavily guarded.

We stopped before it.

There was a sentimental pause.

Arjun turned and faced both his wives. He put his arms on our forearms, his feminine digits enclosing around our skin.

"My dear wives," he spoke softly, "know that you will always rest in my heart for the time that we spend apart."

Then he released Draupadi and whispered in my ear. No doubt any passersby would assume a friend was sharing secrets. "Mrinali, priye, my destiny will always find its way back to you. For all the time that we have lost, we shall reap the rewards for our suffering. And then," he breathed, "we will live in peace and happiness for eons."

With that, he held Draupadi's hand. They took our leave and entered the palace.

Kanha and I saw them go. I turned to look at him. "To Dwarka?"

He nodded. "To Dwarka."

*****

There was a deafening roar as we entered the abode of Kanha's home.

"MAA!"

All the birds that were lounging in the cool pools of water took to the skies.

"MAA!"

Hai bhagwan, my rowdy son. I laughed out loud at the thought. "AMAR!" I yelled back.

A few maids squealed as a sprightly young boy rushed past them. Kanha chuckled.

Amar was a blur of motion as he raced through the corridors, rushed down the staircase and sprinted our way. Then he skidded to a halt.

Aged eighteen, Arjunnandan and Mrinaliputra Amar was sleek and well-built. His physique was a collage of sharp edges and his skin, much like mine, was the colour of sand on the beach.