An interlude to Sunset

The part where friends reunite - Arjun

He had held his own and defended as such as possible, but he was unable to strike any of his brothers. The attack had increased in frenzy and had dragged on for a long time. 

Little by little Arjun had lost all sense of time and existence, battling only propelled by his instincts and in a daze of fatigue and pain; then the sun had set.

It was so unexpected that Arjun had almost dropped his Gandiva in sheer relief. Though normal warfare rules had bit the dust on this mystical battlefield, Arjun was thankful to see that all warriors withdrew with the setting sun. Even bent over on the now blood drenched battlefield, Arjun's eyes had sought the familiar peacock feather of Madhav and he stared at it for as long as he could.

The battlefield had disappeared as soon as Arjun had stepped away from it and the Kunti Putra found himself on the seashore yet again.

Dropping to the warm sands in hopelessness and utter despair, Arjun had vented his anguish. Clutching at handfuls of sand he screamed out his frustrations and his pain and so intense was the same that he felt that his heart would stop. He wished that his heart would stop. Why wasn't he granted a martyr's death, why had he been pushed into this facsimile of hell.

He was not dead, yet he may well have died. He could still feel the loving touches of his brothers' now and again, trying to treat his physical body, but at the same time his psyche was being fractured by some ludicrous copies of the same brothers.

The cries and screams soon caused him to start coughing as he accidentally inhaled the dry sand, and it showed no signs of easing up. The coughing intensified to an extent that soon Arjun saw blood splattering on the pristine beach. He tried to control himself, tried to calm down, to slow down his breathing but nothing helped. 

And it was then that the panic set in and with it, came the questions. What exactly was happening here? Was this some form of hell that he was trapped in? Did he really die when he was hit? But then how could he be feeling the touches of his loved ones tending to his broken body? Arjun was cognizant enough to know that he was trapped in his mind or in someone's dreams. He refused to entertain the thought that it could be some form of reality; that was even more petrifying than what this dream world was making him feel and experience.

Arjun doubled up on the beach and he was now running short of breath. The coughs refused to let up and the avalanche of emotions cascading upon him made him unable to stop his tears. He had never felt so alone in his life, not even during the bleakest times of his exile. The metaphysical nature of the events occurring to and around him was perplexing his senses.

He desperately needed some water but there was only the unending expanse of the sea full of salt water. Gasping and spluttering he nevertheless moved towards that only water source and even as his trembling hands moved to scoop up some water, he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"What are you doing, Parth? This water is not fit for drinking, is it, Sakha?"

Spluttering, Arjun turned around, and faced Krishna. His friend was back, or was he? "W-Who are y-y-you?"

"Who am I?" Krishna's deep voice seemed to resonate around, and he gently pulled back Arjun towards the beach. Where there was only expanse of sand before, was now a crystal-clear pool of water. The distance melted away and soon Arjun felt his friend's cupped hand at his mouth, holding up the precious water. 

Arjun desperately grabbed at the hand and gulped the water down. Krishna kept bringing more and more water to Arjun's lips and stopped only after the archer had stopped coughing.