Thirteen years had flown by like a swift arrow, barely leaving a whisper of their passing. Vritika and Karn, their shoulders etched with the burden of the Kuru crown, had poured their hearts into nurturing their kingdom and shaping their son, Harsha. Under the tutelage of his parents and renowned warriors from both their lineages, Harsha had blossomed into a formidable young warrior, his prowess whispered across the land.
Meanwhile, the echoes of the Pandava-Kaurava conflict resonated in new generations. Duryodhan and Bhanumathi's twins, Lakshman and Lakshmana, stood a year younger than Harsha, their spirits as fiery as their namesakes. Dushala and Mayank's sons, two bright bundles of mischief, already painted the palace with their youthful exuberance.
The other Kauravas, though scattered by the winds of political alliances and love matches, maintained a tenuous peace. Yet, one union remained elusive: Ashwathama and Anwita. Torn by internal strife within the Asura realm, their wedding had been postponed indefinitely. Ashwathama, his heart a locked chamber yearning for its love, remained in a self-imposed exile, waiting for the day Anwita would grace his threshold.
But time, that relentless sculptor, had etched its mark on them all. Vritika, once a whirlwind of defiance, now carried the weight of responsibility in her regal gaze. Karn, his eyes shadowed by battles both fought and fought, bore the mark of a king tempered by experience. Harsha, though a prince, walked with the quiet confidence of a seasoned warrior, his every step echoing the lessons of lineage and duty.
The twins, Lakshman and Lakshmana, were a study in contrasts. Lakshman, the elder, mirrored his fiery father, while Lakshmana, the younger, possessed a quiet wisdom that belied her years. And the young sons of Dushala and Mayank, their laughter ringing through the palace corridors, reminded everyone of life's unyielding promise of renewal.
Yet, amidst the tapestry of lives woven anew, the silence surrounding Ashwathama's love resonated like a discordant note. His unwavering devotion, a stark contrast to the shifting alliances around him, held the promise of a love story yet to be penned. Would Anwita emerge from the shadows of Asura turmoil, or would Ashwathama's wait become a legend whispered down the ages? The answer, like a bud poised to bloom, awaited the gentle caress of time.
-------------------------------------
Amidst the bustle of Magadha, a letter sealed with a familiar crest arrived, bearing the name of Samragini Vritika. For Vritika, who hadn't graced Dwaraka with her presence in two decades, it held the power of a royal summons. How could she not answer the call, especially when penned by her beloved brother-in-law, Duryodhana?
Meanwhile, in the gilded corridors of the Dwaraka palace, Duryodhana paced like a caged tiger. Torn between his dharma as a student and his vow to Bhanumathi, his only confidante seemed distant. His promise to Balarama, hung heavy like a storm cloud, threatening to break upon him. Shakuni's watchful eyes and constant engagements left him no room to explain himself to Balarama. His hope now rested solely on the letter sent to Magadha, entrusted to the Yuyutsu. Vritika, her wisdom and influence, was his only glimmer of light in this quagmire of duty and dilemma.
"Maa, what troubles you?" Harsha's voice resonated through the opulent hall, his footsteps quickening as he saw the distress etched on Vritika's face.
"Ah, Harsha," she sighed, holding out a letter emblazoned with the royal seal of Dwaraka. "A summons from your Kakashree, Suyodhana. He requests my presence... for a reason that stirs unease in my heart."
Harsha frowned, scanning the letter's edge. "Marriage between Kakashree and Chhoti Ma Subhadra? But how can Mamashree Krishna condone such a thing?"
Vritika shook her head, her brow furrowed in thought. "I am as much in the dark as you, my son. But I must depart for Dwaraka at once. This cannot wait."
"Shall I accompany you, Mata?" Harsha offered, his eyes filled with concern.
"Nay," Vritika said gently, placing a hand on his cheek. "Remain here until your father returns from Hastinapur. Inform him of this... unexpected turn of events. He may need you as much as I need a clear mind and, perhaps, an additional hand in navigating the turbulent waters of this situation."
With a final, determined smile, Vritika closed her eyes and vanished in a shimmer of light, reappearing moments later at the imposing front gate of Dwaraka castle.
Dwarka
The air crackled with tension as Vritika stepped through the Dwaraka gates. Her first stop was Duryodhana's chambers, an austere space that mirrored the turmoil within him. He paced like a caged lion, fear battling with unwavering loyalty in his eyes.
"Suyodhana," Vritika said, her voice laced with concern, "Explain this to me. How can Bhratha Balarama ask you to do this, knowing your vow to Bhanumathi?"
Duryodhana slumped onto a chair, shame coloring his features. "It is a gurudakshina, Vritika. I cannot refuse my teacher, not after all he has taught me. But the thought of betraying Bhanumathi... it tears me apart."
Vritika saw the struggle within him, the war between duty and love etched on his face. This Duryodhana, the man she remembered, wasn't the villain painted by many. He was a warrior wrestling with impossible choices, caught between family loyalties and a love that burned bright.
"There must be another way," she murmured, her mind racing. "Bhratha is honorable, but he can be swayed by reason. Tell me, why Subhadra? Is it just Bhratha Balarama's wish, or is there more to it?"
Duryodhana hesitated, then confided in her the whispers echoing through the palace. Shakuni, he claimed, had fueled Balarama's desire for an alliance between Dwaraka and Hastinapur, playing on his brother's ambition and overlooking the emotional cost.
Vritika pressed a hand to her temple, the pieces falling into place. Shakuni, ever the manipulator, saw an opportunity to bind Hastinapur closer to Dwaraka through a powerful marriage – and Duryodhana, the unwilling pawn in his game.
"We cannot let Mamashree Shakuni win, Suyodhana," she declared, her voice firm. "There is a chance, however slim, to convince Bhrata Balarama. But we need a plan, one that relies on truth, not manipulation."
The tension in the air could have been forged into weapons as Vritika and Duryodhana approached Balarama's training grounds. Their hearts thudded like war drums, ready to face the storm brewing within the legendary warrior. But before they could even breach the threshold, a figure materialized before them, his familiar blue dhoti rippling in the breeze. It was Krishna, his mischievous smile masking a deeper understanding of the turmoil they harbored.
"Vritika, Yuraj Suyodhana," he greeted, his voice a soothing balm on their anxieties. "Your intentions are noble, but fret no more. The tapestry of fate has already woven its solution."
Vritika's brows furrowed. "But Bhaiya" she said, "how can you condone this marriage if Duryodhana's heart belongs elsewhere?"
Krishna's smile deepened, twinkling like stars in the midday sun. "Ah, my dear sister, sometimes love takes unexpected turns. Subhadra's heart, too, beats for another. And it is not the valiant Suyodhana, but the fiery archer, Arjuna."
Duryodhana's eyes widened in disbelief. Relief and bewilderment warred within him. "But... how? When?"
Krishna chuckled, a melody that danced on the wind. "Love's whispers travel far, Suyodhana. And Subhadra has listened well. Fear not, for Balarama's gurudakshina shall be met, not with a loveless union, but with a victory of the heart."
Vritika gasped, finally piecing together the puzzle. "The Swayamvara! Is that your plan?"
Krishna's eyes danced. "Indeed, Vritika. A competition worthy of Subhadra's hand, where any warrior can prove his mettle and the victor claims his prize. No forced vows, no broken hearts, just pure, unadulterated love claiming its rightful throne."
"But surely, Bhaiya, Rajkumar Arjun remains bound by exile. How can he be present for the Swayamvar?" Vritika asked. "His presence may seem impossible, dear sister, but fate has a way of weaving its own tapestry. Trust in the dance of destiny, and all will be revealed." Krishna replied with a mischievous smile.
A wave of relief washed over Duryodhana. He bowed his head to Krishna, gratitude spilling from his lips. "Thank you, Dwarkadeesh. You have spared me, Bhanumathi, and Subhadra much heartache."
Vritika smiled, her hand resting gently on Duryodhana's shoulder. "This is a testament to your strength, Suyodhana. You faced your dilemma with honor, and in doing so, paved the way for a happily-ever-after not just for yourself, but for your beloved and your sister."
The tension dissipated like mist under the morning sun. The air, once burdened with fear, now vibrated with the promise of a brighter future. In Krishna's plan, everyone emerged victorious – Duryodhana's loyalty was not betrayed, Bhanumathi's love was preserved, and Subhadra could finally chase the melody of her own heart.
Vritika and Krishna stood opposite Balarama, his imposing figure casting a long shadow across the training ground. The air crackled with tension, as thick as the sweat beading on Balarama's brow after a vigorous session.
Krishna's playful voice cut through the rhythmic clang of steel. "Dau," he called, and Balram's imposing figure pivoted with a rumble. "Agh! Vritika When have you arrived? " Balram asked placing his mace down. "Just now Dau, you didn't even think to inform me before taking such big decision about Subhadra's life." she demanded, her voice laced with barely concealed anger.
"Vriti, don't you see?" Balram pleaded, his voice softening. "Suyodhana is a worthy prince. He respects me, and is a loyal brother to Karn, will always be by Subhadra's side. What more could she ask for?"
"Brother," she began, her voice laced with both respect and conviction, "while your request for Suyodhana's hand in marriage for Subhadra honors tradition, may I propose an alternative that perhaps better serves everyone's happiness?"
Balarama raised an eyebrow, his gaze shifting between Vritika and Krishna. "Intriguing, sister. Speak your mind." Krishna stepped forward, a playful glint in his eyes. "What Vritika suggests is a Swayamvara. Let Subhadra choose her husband from among worthy warriors who prove their mettle in friendly competition, not the battlefield."
Balarama stroked his chin, considering the idea. "A Swayamvara? But, Suyodhana has already..." "Offered himself as tribute to his teacher's will," Vritika cut in gently. "His loyalty is unquestionable, Dau. But is not true love a far greater gurudakshina, one that blossoms freely, not from duty?"
The gears turned in Balarama's mind. The Swayamvar held a certain appeal. It appeased his traditional warrior spirit, the thrill of competition fueling the spectacle. Moreover, it freed Suyodhana from an unwanted union, paving the way for his happiness with Bhanumathi.
"And where would this Swayamvara take place?" Balarama queried, a hint of intrigue coloring his voice. "Dwaraka itself," Krishna chimed in, his smile widening. "Imagine, brother, a grand tournament! Princes from across the land vying for Subhadra's hand, with Arjuna, Yudhishthira, Bhima, even Nakula and Sahadeva, all proving their prowess for the love of a princess."
Balarama's face lit up like a child's with the prospect of such a grand event. He could almost hear the clash of weapons, the roar of the crowd, the cheers for the champion. The Swayamvara was not just a solution, it was a celebration, a display of Dwarka's glory and its princess's worth.
"Very well," Balarama finally declared, his voice rumbling with satisfaction. "Let the Swayamvara be held! May the most deserving win Subhadra's hand, and may love triumph over all."A wave of relief washed over Vritika and Krishna. They had navigated a delicate path, respecting Balarama's wishes while ensuring everyone's happiness. The Swayamvara promised not just a spectacle, but a chance for healing, for second chances, and for love to take its rightful place on the throne.
Subhadra
The twilight draped Dwaraka in a veil of violet hues as Vritika found Subhadra perched on the palace terrace, chin resting on her palm, gaze lost in the shimmering waters below.
Vritika settled beside her sister, the rustle of silk skirts momentarily breaking the silence. "Subhadra," she began softly, "Tell me what troubles your heart."
Subhadra sighed, her voice barely a whisper. "Vrish, brother wants to hand me over to Yuraj Duryodhan without asking me... as if my happiness rests solely on the strength of a warrior's arm."
"Dau loves you dearly," Vritika interjected, her hand reaching to cover Subhadra's. "He seeks only your well-being."
"Yes, I know," Subhadra nodded, her voice catching. "But does well-being mean sacrificing my choice? Suyodhana is noble, a warrior of renown, but..." she faltered, her emerald eyes filled with unspoken anxieties.
Vritika squeezed her hand gently. "But your heart whispers a different name, doesn't it?"
Subhadra's breath hitched, her cheeks flushing a delicate pink. "Vrish, what if..." she started, then stopped, biting her lip.
"What if it's Arjun?" Vritika finished for her, a knowing smile playing on her lips.
Subhadra's eyes widened. "How did you..."
"Sister, do you think I haven't seen the way you watch the sky when a kite painted in Pandava colors sails by? Or how your fingers trace the outline of a peacock feather, a silent echo of his last gift?"
Subhadra's face crumpled, tears welling up in her eyes. "But he's an exile, bound by an oath. How can a love bloom in such barren ground?"
Vritika leaned closer, her voice firm yet filled with a reassuring warmth. "Subhadra, love knows no boundaries. It has a way of defying destiny, weaving its own path through storm and sun. Perhaps this Swayamvar, this seemingly forced hand, is actually an opportunity. A chance to rewrite your own narrative."
Subhadra's breath hitched, her emerald eyes widening in surprise. "A Swayamvar?" she echoed, her voice barely a whisper. "Yes Choti. It wasn't easy, my dear. Dau had his heart set on another path, but in the end, we persuaded him of this course." Vritika's smile broadened, catching the glimmer of a nascent hope in Subhadra's eyes.
"You choose the competition, Choti. Set the terms, the challenges. Make the warriors earn your hand, not just with their steel, but with their soul. And who knows, maybe, just maybe, your true love will not only defy exile, but conquer your heart once again."
The sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and gold, mirroring the fire rekindled in Subhadra's eyes. A tentative smile graced her lips as she whispered, "I like the sound of that, Jiji. Let the Swayamvara be a dance of destiny, where love chooses the victor."
News of the Swayamvara spread like wildfire, carried on the wings of excited whispers and breathless gossip. Princes honed their skills, strategized battle plans, and polished their armor in anticipation of the competition.
As Dwaraka buzzed with preparations, Vritika and Krishna shared a knowing smile. They had nudged fate's hand, setting in motion a chain of events that promised love, adventure, and perhaps, even reconciliation. The Swayamvara was not just a contest, it was a bridge, a chance for hearts to connect and destinies to rewrite themselves. And as the first rays of dawn painted the sky on the day of the grand competition, everyone, from mighty warriors to watchful advisors, waited with bated breath to witness the dance of love unfold.
Next chapter - Swayamvar ^_^
I hope you guys have enjoyed this chapter.