- || Moments that Matter ||-
Within fleeting moments, lives an eternity, where hearts collide and souls intertwine, moments that truly define.
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"Swami," Valandhara tenderly placed her hand upon Bhima's shoulders, only to feel him flinch as though abandoned by the entire world.
"Why don't you cast me aside as well?" Bhima's voice, laden with profound sadness, barely escaped his lips. "I am more than a demon, a merciless murderer."
"Bhima," Valandhara, standing behind him, embraced him gently, seeking solace amidst the expanse of the darkened sky. "You know that is not the truth."
"What is the truth?" Bhima turned to face her, his misty eyes revealing the hidden tears he had shed within. Valandhara's heart ached at the sight.
"You were bound by duty, entrusted with upholding morality, and destined to be the protector of justice," Valandhara spoke with unwavering conviction, but her words struggled to penetrate the fortified walls guarding Bhima's tormented soul.
"Protector?" Bhima chuckled bitterly. "If I was truly right, why does suffering prevail? Why must such torment befall our parental figures, Mata Gandhari and Tathshree Dhritirashtra? Why is my Krishnaa in such deep sorrow ? Why is my Hidimbaa suffer the phase of loneliness ? Why do you bear the burden of anguish, unable to face your own sister? Why do people cast their eyes upon me as if I am a monster? And why does the child - our Bangaram whom I hold dear, who once loved me unconditionally, now turn away from me?"
"Swami, please listen," Valandhara pleaded, her voice quivering with unspoken pain.
"I am sorry, Priye, but I am undeserving of your love. I have brought nothing but pain into your life—firstly, by failing to comprehend the depths of your heart in the past; secondly, by leaving you alone for thirteen arduous years; and thirdly, by failing to protect our children. Now, due to my actions, you face the consequences not only within our family but also beyond. The strength that was meant to support you in every step of the way has become the source of your torment. I cannot mend my shattered heart, even with your tender care and love," Bhima's hands joined together in a gesture of deep remorse. "Forgive me, Devi, I am truly sorry."
Without warning, he turned abruptly and hastened away, leaving Valandhara gazing after his retreating figure, her eyes brimming with tears.
She, his wife, had endeavored to console his anguished heart on this day. However, it was time for her to revert to the relationship they had forged long before their sacred union— friendship. Perhaps her lord, in this moment of darkness, required a confidant more than ever before.
His heart, intertwined with knots of relentless torment, demanded swift intervention. Valandhara knew that Bhima's strength was not limited to the battlefield; it was an indomitable force that resided within his very being. Transforming a deeply ingrained perspective, etched into the core of his being, would prove to be an arduous task.
But she would not falter, for she understood that if Bhima's power was invincible, so too was the depth of his wounded soul.
Suthanu found herself face to face with the one person she had exchanged bitter words with throughout her entire existence - Gandhari.
As Gandhari's personal handmaidens came to a sudden halt, sensing her hesitation, they respectfully bowed down, offering warm smiles.
"Pranaam Rajakumari," whispered the handmaidens, their voices laced with reverence. Suthanu acknowledged their presence with a gentle nod, her demeanor filled with a sense of serene grace.
"Pranaam Pitamahi," Suthanu voiced to Gandhari. Though she carried regret for the harshness of her words on that fateful day, she could not find it within herself to apologize fully on what she had told. The bitterness had been born from a place of truth, a truth she could not deny.
"What words do you have for me today, Dharmaatmaja?" Gandhari scornfully disregarded the customary greeting, her voice dripping with resentment. "Or perhaps you wish to cast blame upon me once again."
"Pitamahi," Suthanu began, her voice filled with a mix of remorse and determination. "I was sorry for the tone I spoke with in that moment. However, I still stand by the essence of my words, for they hold a sad truth that cannot be changed, even if I desired it so."
Suddenly, Suthanu's observant eyes widened, catching a glimpse of danger. She swiftly pulled Gandhari to the side, rescuing her drape from the impending grasp of the flickering lamp's flames.
"You all," Suthanu turned to address the handmaidens, her gaze firm. "I believe you are well aware of your duties. In our kingdom, we hold each individual in high regard. You are not lesser beings, but equals. Nevertheless, remember this: we do not tolerate negligence, especially when it concerns our family members."
Gandhari withdrew her palm from Suthanu's grasp, her heart heavy with a mixture of emotions.
"Do you all possess eyes, or have you lost your sight?She is my mother, your queen. A single scratch on her, and I shall unleash hell upon each and every one of you."
Echoes of her son's voice, now distant but ever-present, reverberated in Gandhari's mind. Shattered by the loss of her beloved children, she had become blinded to the suffering of others. Yet, in this unexpected encounter, she found herself face to face with someone who cherished her as family when she believed she had none, breaching the walls guarding her heart.
"Let us depart," Gandhari commanded her handmaidens, ready to leave this place of confrontation and reflection.
However, just as Gandhari was about to turn away, a lingering call from behind halted her departure.
"Pitamahi, there is but one plea I make," Suthanu's voice softened, tugging at the strings of Gandhari's wounded heart. "My mothers, too, have lost all their sons. Their grief is not dissimilar to yours. I know, deep within your heart, you hold a certain respect for them. Please, in the midst of your sorrow, refrain from pouring forth hatred upon them. I implore you, with all sincerity."
"My heart is not made of ice," Gandhari struggled to steady her voice, feeling the tremors of her illusion shatter. The mirror that had veiled her from truth had been irreparably broken, revealing the wounds she had inflicted, wounds that no passage of time could heal. The truth she had evaded for so long now stood resolute at her doorstep, forcefully pushing open the door of her consciousness. There was no turning back this time.
She would have to bear the weight of her mistakes for a lifetime, navigating the depths of remorse and living with the consequences of her actions.
"Pranaam, Samrat," the gate soldier bowed, his voice filled with reverence, " Maharani Kalindi wishes to meet you ". Yudhisthira turned to face him, his eyes still glistening with unshed tears.
"Send Maharani inside with all due respects," Yudhisthira replied, his voice steady but his heart heavy. As he awaited her arrival, he quickly assessed his chamber, ensuring everything was in its proper place.
Moments later, the doors opened, and Kalindi entered, her presence like a soothing balm to his wounded heart. Yudhisthira couldn't help but smile at her, his dear sister, addressing her by the name that marked the beginning of their unique bond— " Yami " .
"Your room is neat and clean, Jyeshtha just like your own heart," Kalindi remarked, her voice filled with warmth and affection. Yudhisthira's smile widened, grateful for her comforting words. He took a seat on his throne, facing her, and she gracefully settled beside at a little distance.
"Born from Yama Deva himself," Kalindi began softly, her gaze fixed on him, "still, you grieve over your duty, which had to culminate in a war?"
Confusion flickered in Yudhisthira's eyes as he struggled to comprehend her words. "I didn't understand, Yami," he admitted, his tone gentle.
"Jyeshtha, this is the core truth of your existence that I have come to tell you," Kalindi smiled, her eyes sparkling with a mix of playfulness and sincerity. as she added , "But do you believe me, Jyeshtha?".
"Yami, after all these years, you still have that question?" Yudhisthira's voice held reverence and trust. "I believe you as much as I believe in my Dharma. With Madhava, you have shown me the path whenever I have stumbled."
Touched by his unwavering faith, Kalindi's eyes shimmered with emotion. "You have been there for me as well, Jyeshtha," she whispered softly, her voice filled with gratitude. "You are my Jyeshtha, and that is an unchanging truth in my life."
"Yami," Yudhisthira's voice trembled with emotion, his heart overwhelmed by her unwavering affection and hope. Even in his darkest moments, his sister had never lost faith in him.
"Jyeshtha, you were born from Yama Dharmaraja—you are an amsha of him," Kalindi continued, her voice gentle yet firm. "Do you think that upholding morality is your sole purpose?" She paused, allowing her words to sink in before continuing. "If you believe so, you are limiting yourself to only one aspect of your true purpose. Dharmaraja, also known as Kaala, is the god of death, not just justice. This war was your destiny, Jyeshtha, to bring death to those who embraced Adharma. You have done nothing wrong; you have simply fulfilled your birth purpose. This is your truth."
Yudhisthira stared at her, speechless for a moment. He had never delved into the depths of this part of his existence, but now, this revelation brought him a small sense of solace. The decision to go to war, which he had considered his fate, was, in fact, one of the reasons for his birth—to free the land from the clutches of Adharma.
"Yami, thank you for revealing this to me. I was in dire need of such understanding," Yudhisthira's voice was soft, his vulnerability laid bare. "This war had to happen—I knew it when Maharishi Ved Vyasa had foretold it during the Rajasuya. But to realize that it was predestined, that' why' it was meant to be carried out by my own hands, is something new to me. Although it brings me a semblance of relief, I still stand as the reaper of lives from my own lineage. How do I free myself from this burden in this lifetime?"
"Jyeshtha, you are the Yama Dharmaraja of Dwapar Yuga. Let Yama Deva himself guide you to liberation," Kalindi consoled him, her smile radiating warmth and reassurance. "Put yourself in his shoes, Jyeshtha. I am certain you will find your way out of this. You are not different from him."
"Such a lofty aspiration, Yami," Yudhisthira murmured, his voice filled with humility. He could never envision himself embodying such divine qualities.
"Jyeshtha, I began with a question of belief," Kalindi's eyes twinkled with unwavering faith. Yudhisthira's own eyes welled up with tears; he believed in her without a shred of doubt.
"Jyeshtha, take your time," Kalindi's voice was gentle as she stood up, and Yudhisthira rose from his throne as well. "Know that we are all here for you. One day, you promised that you would stand up for me in any dire circumstances, protecting me. Now, I promise you—I, Yami, will always be there for my Jyeshtha, whenever you call upon me."
Yudhisthira placed his palm on Kalindi's head, his gratitude overflowing. "May everyone be blessed with a sister like you, Yami," he whispered. "Yudhisthira is truly fortunate to have you in his life."
"And my wish is for the world to see you through the same eyes as I do, Jyeshtha," Kalindi smiled softly, her gaze filled with unwavering affection. "Jyeshtha, always remember—Yami will forever be there to share your joys and sorrows. Today, I am here to share your sadness."
" People still wonder why my dear sister - Yami is the beloved of all people right from Gokula to the counterpart of the best of men - Kanhaiya" , Yudhisthira couldn't help but shake his head fondly as Kalindi lowered her head to hide her shy smile. Her brother could light up an instant smile on her face too !
In that moment, their bond transcended a new boundaries of siblinghood, enveloping them in a cocoon of affection and understanding as they again sat sharing about their life.
" I am so blessed " , Suthanu whispered as she was crossing the pathway with Bhanu just hearing towards the end of the conversation by chance.
" I am no less , Thanu. We are fortunate that our family is so loving towards each other. It's all so interwined with so many relations that anchor us at any point in life " , Bhanu smiled warmly as Suthanu reciprocated.
"Renu," Mitravinda gently placed her tender palm upon Karenumati, who sat silently in the garden swing, her eyes closed in contemplation.
"Didi, you?" Karenumati's voice trembled, struggling to contain the tears that welled within her upon seeing Mitravinda and Bhadra, her beloved cousins. Bound by a sacred bond, Mitravinda and Bhadra's mothers, Rajadhi and Shrutakirti, were sisters, and Karenumati's grandmother was a sister to them as well.
Mitravinda and Bhadra settled on either side of Karenumati, their touch offering solace and understanding.
"In our youth, Renu, we were kept apart by an unfortunate enmity..." Mitravinda sighed, her voice trailing off, unwilling to utter the name of Shishupala, Karenumati's late father.
"Between my father and Bhrata Krishna," Karenumati completed the thought with a heavy sigh.
"But now, we are here for you, Renu," Bhadra gently rested her palm upon Karenumati's head, completing Mitravinda's unspoken words. Karenumati felt a flicker of relief in her heart, for they had stood steadfast by her side, even after the fateful game of dice that had brought them closer in Chedi.
Karenumati's eyes, reminiscent of pools of sapphire, shimmered with unspoken anguish. "Didi, you both also lost your brothers."
Mitravinda and Bhadra, their own eyes welling with profound grief, acknowledged the pain they had endured. Often overlooked by the world ; their illustrious family, their husband , their sisters and their children understood their silent tribulations and offered unwavering support.
"We did, Renu," Mitravinda's gaze turned skyward, her eyes misty with tears before returning to Karenumati, her smile a beacon of solace. "But your ability to perceive our sorrow warms our hearts. Though our time together has been limited within our closely-knit circle, every moment spent with you has held immeasurable value. You hold a special place within our hearts."
"Didi," Karenumati's emotions overwhelmed her, and she leaned upon Mitravinda's comforting shoulders, finding solace in her embrace. To have someone from her maternal home, someone who cared deeply for her, meant the world to Karenumati in that fragile moment.
"Bhrata Dhritaketu and your children, is a profound sorrow for you too, is it not?" Bhadra's voice was gentle, her touch tenderly caressing Karenumati's hair knowing Karenumati would never speak about it and it was important for her to let out her anguish.
"Didi," Karenumati struggled to find the right words, her voice catching in her throat, "The emptiness that consumes me, it engulfs every breath of mine. The once melodious laughter that filled my life now echoes as a haunting lament. The losses have become unbearable, Didi. First, my father, and now the other men in my life. And now, I have learned of the impending danger to my grandchild, Uttara's unborn child, threatened by the Brahmastra. How can I support Subhadra and Uttara if they learn of this? What is happening to our family? We have committed no sins to deserve such bitter fruits. Why must we endure such hardships?".
Tears, akin to crystalline dewdrops, cascaded down Karenumati's face as she clung tightly to Mitravinda's steady presence.
"Nothing will befall your grandchild, Renu," Bhadra's eyes, pools of compassion and ancient wisdom, glimmered like celestial stars. "We learnt from Swami about the unfortunate incident. Worry not, for the child shall be safe. The divine above shall never abandon the righteous, Renu. He may test his people, but in the end, he ensures they are rewarded."
"Truly, Didi?" Karenumati's tears flowed afresh. "What more could be bestowed upon us? It may be preferable to have perished in battle rather than endure such an unjust existence."
"Is that all the trust you have in your Aaradhya, Renu?" Mitravinda's voice was gentle, yet carried the weight of conviction, bringing a semblance of calm to Karenumati's turbulent emotions.
"No, Didi," Karenumati whispered softly, her voice carrying her vulnerability, "I believe in him, truly. I spoke from the depths of my anguish. There must be a reason why we are still alive."
"There must be, Renu," Bhadra rose, her gaze turning towards the heavens, allowing the moonlight to reflect upon her, before turning back to Karenumati ,"Every moment we live, there is purpose in the divine design. When life loses its meaning, let that very purpose that there is a reason be the guiding light amidst the darkness that engulfs you."
Karenumati lifted her head from Mitravinda's shoulder, Bhadra appearing as a celestial being in that ethereal moonlit moment.
"I understand it is arduous, Renu, incredibly challenging. But you have an entire family beside you—your loving lord , the other pandavas who love you as their dear sister , your sisters , Uttara and her child , a loving mother-in law , us and Suthanu. You are not alone and it's not over , Renu. We shall always remain with you through light and darkness," Mitravinda's voice held tenderness.
"And I shall always be there for both of you, Didi, whenever you yearn for the warmth of maternal home—let us reunite," Karenumati offered a soft smile.
"We shall always be there for one another. This very moment, this eternal truth, shall carry us forward," Bhadra smiled as she sat beside Karenumati. The three embraced, their hearts intertwined, ready to weather the tempestuous storms that lay ahead.
To be continued...
Moments that matter , offcourse - very precious. We had less of Suthanu and Bhanu here but we will have them again in the next update with a lot more of family scenes as well. I can't show a happy transition very soon given the losses are too many but yes happiness will find it's place soon. Honestly , I find this pacing itself a little fast.
Let me know your thoughts and whether you enjoy such updates as well revolving around the family !
Please do leave your votes and comments !