The salty tang of the sea mingled with the incense smoke of Somnath, painting the air with a bittersweetness that mirrored Arjuna's heart. His exile was nearing its end, a bittersweet victory that brought with it a gnawing ache for what he'd left behind. Krishna's cryptic words, whispered before the long journey began, echoed in his mind: "Seek solace in Somnath, for there fate will weave a new thread in your tapestry."
And there, amidst the chanting priests and austere beauty of the ancient temple, he found it. Not solace, not yet, but a glimpse of the fiery thread that threatened to unravel his carefully constructed composure. He saw her, radiant in the dappled sunlight, her laughter echoing like temple bells. Subhadra, his first love, a vision draped in the silk of devotion, distributing food to the assembled sages.
Her eyes, pools of emerald still shimmering with unshed tears, didn't recognize him. He was a stranger in saffron robes, another face in the throng of seekers. Yet, to him, she was a constellation etched on his soul, a melody his heart sang even in the darkest nights of exile.
He yearned to speak, to bridge the chasm of time and circumstance, to reclaim the love they'd stolen from each other's arms. But as she turned, her gaze flitting to the woman beside her, Vritika, the words died on his tongue. A silent understanding passed between the sisters, a shared burden of secrets and unspoken wishes.
Vritika's eyes, sharp as a falcon's, met his for a fleeting moment. A flicker of recognition, a silent plea for caution. And Arjuna, ever the warrior, swallowed his yearning. He couldn't risk jeopardizing the delicate web of circumstance, the fragile hope of a future where his love might yet bloom.
So, he bowed his head, accepting the prasad she offered, the touch of her hand a whisper on his palm. And as he walked away, the scent of jasmine clinging to his robes, he carried with him not just the taste of sanctified food, but the bittersweet ache of a love that refused to be silenced.
The exile was ending, but the true battle, the battle for Subhadra's heart, was only just beginning.
The palace gates swung open, revealing Vritika and Subhadra returning from their visit to Somnath. Krishna, a mischievous glint in his eyes, intercepted them in the courtyard.
"Ah, Choti! Did the temple bring you peace?" Krishna inquired, his voice teasing.
Subhadra, her emerald eyes still holding a hint of wistfulness, managed a smile. "Yes, brother. My heart feels a little lighter now."
Krishna's smile deepened, knowing the source of her newfound peace. "No wonder, when you met the one who can mend any turmoil," he said, his words laced with a playful nudge.
Subhadra's brow furrowed slightly. "Who are you talking about, brother?" she feigned ignorance, her cheeks warming with a blush.
"Why, Bholenath, of course!" Krishna chuckled, his eyes twinkling. "He can calm the most agitated seas, can't he?"
Subhadra's smile faltered, a flicker of sadness passing through her eyes. Rukmini and Revati's summons provided a welcome distraction, and with a hurried goodbye, she retreated into the palace.
Vritika, sharp as ever, remained. "Arjun was there at Somnath, wasn't he?" she asked, her voice low and direct.
Krishna's smile turned knowing. "My dear sister, your eyes are as keen as mine. You see through every illusion."
"But how will he attend the Swayamvar?" Vritika demanded, her voice laced with frustration. "His exile ends soon, and his duty lies in Indraprastha."
Krishna sighed, the weight of his scheming evident on his face. "The web of destiny is intricate, Vritika. Duty and love can dance a delicate waltz, especially when vows offer room for interpretation." He paused, his gaze unwavering. "Tell me, wouldn't Dwarka welcome Subhadra as a daughter, a queen in spirit even if not in title? Wouldn't that ease Arjuna's burden, knowing his love is safe within these walls?"
Vritika considered this, her mind wrestling with the complexities. "But what of Subhadra? To be a queen in name only, away from her husband..."
"Ah," Krishna interrupted, a mischievous glint returning to his eyes. "Who says 'away' will be permanent? The swayamvar is a game, yes, but fate is a cunning player. Indraprastha and Dwarka may not be as distant as they seem, visits can become frequent, and love can find its rhythm even across miles."
He placed a hand on Vritika's shoulder, his gaze sincere. "Help him fight for her, Vritika. Fight for their love, for Subhadra's happiness. Trust that the tapestry of life, though intricate, can be woven with threads of both duty and desire. Remember, sometimes, the greatest victories lie not on battlefields, but in conquering the heart."
As Krishna's words echoed in the courtyard, Vritika felt a flicker of hope ignite within her. The path ahead wouldn't be easy, the distance and vow presenting a constant challenge, but for Subhadra, for love, she was willing to navigate the labyrinth.
The flickering lamplight cast long shadows on the walls of Arjuna's humble abode. Disguised as Bholenath, the Brahmin, he nursed the ache of impending exile's end. In mere days, Indraprastha would claim him, leaving behind the whispered promise of a sun-kissed goddess called Subhadra.
Vritika, a whirlwind of silken whispers and sharp intellect, arrived unannounced, breaking the twilight stillness. Arjuna's heart leaped, then plummeted at the sight of her. The news she carried tasted like bittersweet nectar.
"Subhadra's Swayamvar," she announced, her voice a low thrum in the silence. "Rajkumar Arjun, do you truly believe you can ignore its call?"
He clenched his fists, the borrowed staff creaking in his grip. "My duty lies in Indraprastha, Samragni Vritika. Draupadi..."
Vritika silenced him with a glance, her emerald eyes flashing with understanding. "Your vow to Draupadi," she conceded, "but is love not also a duty, Arjuna? A duty to happiness, to a heart that beats in sync with yours?"
Arjuna faltered, his carefully constructed walls threatened by the tremor in her voice. He saw Subhadra in her eyes, the same yearning, the same unspoken plea.
"But how can I offer her half a life?" he argued, his voice raw with despair. "Exile ends, and Dwarka is a world away from Indraprastha."
Vritika smiled, a flicker of mischief in her eyes. "And who says it has to be?" she countered. "The Swayamvar is a game, Rajkumar Arjun, one with rules that can be bent. What if Subhadra could be queen both in Indraprastha and in Dwarka, even if not permanently in Indraprastha?"
Intrigue piqued Arjuna's interest. "Explain," he breathed, the lamplight reflecting his hope-tinged eyes.
Vritika leaned closer, her voice barely above a whisper. "Think of Dwarka as her sanctuary, Arjuna. Balarama would welcome her as a daughter, a queen in spirit. Imagine stolen moments, visits cloaked in the veil of diplomacy, a love that thrives despite the distance."
She paused, letting her words sink in. "The tapestry of life, Arjuna," she continued, "is woven with threads of both duty and desire. This Swayamvar can be your battle cry, not just for her hand, but for a love that defies boundaries. Trust me, brother, sometimes the greatest victory lies not in war, but in claiming the woman who holds your heart, even if it means rewriting the rules of the game."
As Vritika's words painted a future bright with possibility, Arjuna felt the shackles of his oath loosen. Hope, like a stubborn vine, began to grow through the cracks of his resignation. He wasn't just Bholenath, the wandering Brahmin, anymore. He was Arjuna, a warrior, a prince, and a lover who would fight for his Subhadra, for a love that dared to reach beyond the confines of tradition.
"The Swayamvar," he whispered, his voice resolute, "I will be there, Samragni Vritika. Not as Bholenath, but as Arjuna, the man who loves your sister with every beat of his heart."
Swayamvar
The sun cast a molten sheen on the arena, shimmering off the polished armor of princes gathered from across the land. The Swayamvar of Subhadra was in full swing, a spectacle of martial prowess and unspoken aspirations. Yet, amidst the throng, two figures stood apart, not just in stature but in their motives.
Duryodhana, clad in Kaurava steel, exuded an aura of quiet power. His participation wasn't fueled by desire for Subhadra's hand, but by a vow to his teacher's wife, Bhanumathi, to fulfill his gurudakshina by attending the Swayamvar. His heart, irrevocably hers, held no room for another.
Arjuna, disguised as a simple archer named Parth, watched Duryodhana from the shadows. Beneath the sun-baked clay mask, his heart hammered with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. Subhadra, radiant in silks the color of twilight, stood at the dais, her emerald eyes holding a challenge.
The first test was strength. Mighty boulders were hoisted, chariots raced through fire rings, and arrows sang through the air. Duryodhana, a warrior born, moved with effortless grace, conquering each challenge with stoic efficiency. Arjuna, his skills honed by hardship, matched him feat for feat, his disguise concealing the Pandava prince beneath.
Next came intellect. Riddles whispered in forgotten tongues, intricate puzzles of strategy, and debates on dharma and war tested the princes' minds. Duryodhana, sharp as his spear, navigated the intellectual labyrinth with practiced ease. Arjuna, ever the scholar-warrior, met him word for word, his borrowed robes unable to hide the brilliance glinting in his eyes.
The final test was a test of the heart. Subhadra stood before them, a fragile flame amidst the clash of metal and mind. "Tell me, princes," she began, her voice soft yet carrying through the hushed arena, "who can be a king without sacrificing their soul? Who can love a queen who may not always reside by their side?"
Duryodhana, his gaze unwavering, bowed his head. "Princess," he spoke, his voice heavy with sorrow, "love's battlefield is within the heart, and mine already holds a queen. To offer you my hand would be a deceit, both to you and to the vow I hold sacred."
A murmur rippled through the crowd. Subhadra, a flicker of respect in her eyes, nodded in understanding. Then, all eyes turned to the disguised Arjuna. He took a deep breath, the warmth of Subhadra's gaze igniting a fire in his soul.
He stepped forward, the clay mask crumbling to reveal the face that launched a thousand ships. "Princess," he began, his voice ringing with conviction, "love thrives not in proximity, but in understanding. I cannot promise to be ever by your side, but I swear my heart will beat only for you, no matter the distance."
He continued, weaving tales of their stolen glances at Somnath, the unspoken bond nurtured in forbidden moments. He spoke of love that defied duty, of a future where loyalty to Indraprastha could coexist with devotion to Dwarka. His words, imbued with the raw ache of longing, painted a future where Subhadra would be not just a queen in name, but a queen in spirit, loved and cherished even across miles.
As the last echo of his voice faded, a silence descended upon the arena. Subhadra stood poised, her emerald eyes reflecting the turmoil within. Duryodhana, his vow fulfilled, stepped aside, as a silent gesture of respect.
Then, with a smile that outshone the midday sun, Subhadra descended from the dais. Her choice, though unexpected, felt inevitable. She walked towards Arjuna, her hand outstretched, a beacon of hope lighting the path towards a future woven with threads of duty, love, and unwavering devotion.
As Subhadra and Arjuna's hands intertwined, sealing their bond, a ripple of concern brushed through the crowd. Shakuni, ever the serpent in the shadows, hissed a venomous whisper into Balarama's ear. "Remember the Pandava's vow, Mahamahim Balram? No other queen can reside at Indraprastha other than Draupadi."
Balarama's face hardened. The joyous occasion twisted into a knot of worry in his gut. Could he see his beloved sister, radiant with newfound love, become a lonely queen in Dwarka, forever waiting for a husband bound to another throne? He couldn't bear the thought.
"Arjuna," Balarama boomed, his voice echoing through the stunned silence, "you stand before me as a warrior, a brother, and now, a potential brother-in-law. But tell me, can you offer Subhadra the love she desires and life long companionship, or only a lonely vigil in Dwarka?"
Arjuna, his heart already heavy with the burden of his vow, faltered. His warrior's spirit yearned for Indraprastha, but his love for Subhadra threatened to unravel a web of duty and obligation. He was caught in a cruel tug-of-war, both choices leaving him wounded.
Just as despair threatened to drown him, Krishna, a mischievous glint in his eyes, stepped forward. "Dau," he said, his voice smooth as velvet, "why limit the possibilities? Why not let Indraprastha embrace another queen, not in rivalry, but in harmony?"
He turned to Subhadra, his eyes twinkling with a secret understanding. "My dear sister," he murmured, his voice barely audible, "the tapestry of life can be woven with threads both bold and subtle. Trust me, your place in both Dwarka and Indraprastha shall be etched in love, not confined by vows."
A slow smile bloomed on Subhadra's face. Krishna's words, cryptic yet reassuring, ignited a spark of hope within her. She, like Arjuna, understood the delicate dance their situation demanded.
Arjuna, seeing the newfound resolve in Subhadra's eyes, felt a weight lift from his heart. He met Balarama's gaze, no longer with hesitation, but with unwavering determination. "Dau Balaram," he declared, his voice ringing with conviction, "Draupadi holds a rightful place in my heart and home. However, Subhadra's love ignites another star within me. Let me honor both these flames, not by comparing their light, but by allowing them to illuminate our lives together. I vow to cherish and protect Subhadra as my wife, not in spite of my duties, but alongside them. Let me take her to Indraprastha, not as a rival to Draupadi, but as another pillar of our home, bound by love and respect."
As the wedding festivities for Arjuna and Subhadra reached their peak, Harsha, a wisp of a boy with his mother Vritika's fiery spirit glinting in his eyes, materialized beside her like a whisper. His arrival, sudden and unexpected, drew no raised eyebrows, for such was the magic he commanded.
Vritika, resplendent in emerald silks, stood on the fringes of the celebration, a far cry from the joyous bustle at the heart of the event. Even as her sister, Subhadra, radiated happiness under the canopy of flowers, Vritika kept a distance, a silent observer haunted by the ghosts of her past. Beside her, Duryodhana, her friend and brother-in-law, stood like a stoic oak, his presence a silent testament to their unwavering bond.
Harsha, oblivious to the storm of emotions swirling around his mother, skipped towards her, his laughter a welcome break in the charged atmosphere. "Maa," he chirped, tugging at Vritika's saree.
"Son," she murmured, her voice catching slightly. "When did you arrive?"
"Just now, Maa," Harsha replied, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Pitashree asked me to come to Dwarka first. He stayed back to welcome Pitamahi Radha and Pitamaha Adirath who just arrived."
He glanced towards Duryodhana, his small face lighting up with a smile. "Kakashree!" he exclaimed, abandoning Vritika's side and launching himself into Duryodhana's arms. Duryodhana, who adored his rambunctious nephew, caught him readily, his gruff voice softening.
"Ah, isn't it my favorite nephew? How are you? And how is your training going on? Have you decided who your teacher is going to be?"
Harsha, nestled comfortably in Duryodhana's embrace, beamed. "I am fine, Kakashree! Training under Mother and Father is the best! And yes, I have! I will be learning from Matamaha Vibhishan!"
This announcement sent a ripple through the nearby courtiers. Matamaha Vibhishan, Ravana's brother and Rama's loyal ally, was a formidable warrior and scholar. His tutelage for Harsha was a matter of great honor and intrigue.
As Harsha chattered animatedly about his future training, Vritika watched him with a small smile. He was the spitting image of his father, Karna, with his fiery spirit and unwavering loyalty. Yet, in her son's eyes, she saw not the shadow of past conflicts, but the promise of a brighter future. A future where he would learn under the guidance of a legendary warrior like Vibhishan, a future where he would carve his own path, perhaps even bridge the divides of the past.
I didn't specify much about swayamvar as it was taking so much time and already the chapter is so long.
next chapter - draupadi's anger, subhadra's action and vritika's promise.
I hope you all have been enjoying the recent chapter up until 17th I would be able to give daily updates but after that I will see what I can do.
If possible then I will try to wind it up before 17th till then take care.