Day 3
Kauravas' Camp
Kurukshetra
"You are a monster!"
Bhanumati's eyes teared up, having shocked herself as to what she said. Duryodhan, who was now standing as well, looked at her with an unreadable expression. His fists tightened, as if on impulse, but he let go
"A monster? Not you too," He mumbled, his ears desperately hoping he heard the wrong words.
"How was I the monster? For simply wanting a throne?" He asked, tearing away from her glare. She scoffed. "Not for wanting the throne, but for your ways of trying to get it."
"Everyone struggles for a throne-"
"Do they? You had multiple opportunities to get a throne. But no, you wanted the throne of Kuru's."
He narrowed his eyes at her, trying to shake her words away. Because, whether he liked it or not, they made sense.
"But, Bhanu, they all thought I was undeserving, only because I was born on a bad day. They never even gave me a chance." His voice faded away as he spoke, unsure of how to translate his feelings, which were pretty tangled up, into sentences. He plopped back down on the bed, burying his face into the palms of his hands, which rested on his knees.
"That, surely, was their fault. But, you then had to earn the chance. It was unfair, of course. There are so many unfair things in life, but we have to get over them," Her voice became a whisper as she cautiously came closer, afraid to strike a nerve.
"Life was unfair when you took me in your chariot despite me walking away from you, but I nevertheless consented. We got married and the unfair became fair, once I let it be." She patted his back in an attempt to comfort him, unaware of what he must be feeling.
Though he had never been disrespectful to her, he was an entirely different man in front of the Pandavas. She would have never thought that her loving husband would have even thought of something like the Dyut Sabha, let alone touch another woman's sari with heinous intentions. But mind you, she was doing her best to try and forgive him. To see him as the man she had married, not the monster the Pandavas put up with.
But again, you see, it wasn't easy.
"That was different," Duryodhan sighed. "I have committed crimes, unforgivable even, but I have never felt remorse. This one sabha is causing me to lose so much, I can't even back down now. Dussashan, my closest brother, I have distanced myself from him. Yuyutsu has joined the Pandavas in war. Vikarna barely talks to me, always acknowledges me with a nod, never speaking. Mamashree keeps suggesting the weirdest methods to win this war, most of which I'm sure won't work. Pitamaha and Guru Drona have been forced into my side. It's all chaos."
Bhanumati gazed at him, in an attempt to say something which would help. But she knew nothing which would. She had been there for him for a lot of incidents, but never against him. Even for the Dyut Sabha, she had given an earful to GandharRaj, most of which he had fearfully listened to. But how would she say something now? She had lost the right.
When everyone considered him a monster, she was there. But now, she was one of them too.
"Chaos, which you caused, Arya." She mumbled, standing off and walking towards the entrance of the tent. With a sigh, she exited the tent and made her way to the stables, where her horse was kept.
And a spiralling Duryodhan was left alone, the only company being his thoughts.
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Indu POV (You all missed me, didn't you? -Indu)
"What's on your mind?" Bhrata Sahadev asked, a slight smile on his face as he entered my tent and closed the drapes. He looked at my reflection in the mirror. I sat in front of it, my injured hand resting on the desk. I had changed into a kurta, the perfect one which I had sowed after watching many tutorials on my phone. My dupatta was thrown on the bed and my hair was a mess.
"Tried to braid my hair again, but it's really not possible with one hand." I replied, not looking back at him but continuing to stare at my reflection. He nodded, standing behind me.
"Let me,"
He gathered my hair and combed it out as I smiled. This was just like old times. He asked what the smile was for, using a slight lift of his eyebrows, which I saw in the mirror.
"You're tying my hair again, just like when we were kids." I replied, my smile growing.
When we two were kids, living in the huts with Pitashree and Choti Maa, as we called Mata Madri, Bhrata Sahadev would always tie my braids. Though then, my hair barely reached her waist and now, it had grown longer than that. He'd put flowers in them, mostly mogra and parijat. He'd use random vines to tie them, just to trouble me and force me to go complaining to our Matas. He'd oil my hair, whenever he'd get the chance. Nakul usually supplied the oil (after stealing it from Mata Madri).
"Right," Bhrata Sahadev smiled, cherishing the memory. "Why'd I stop?"
"Mata insisted that she should tie my hair, before time slips up and my husband gets to," I chuckled.
Mata had always wished for me to be married to someone who treated me even better than my brothers did. Though it seemed impossible to me, Satyadev turned out to be exactly that.
"Can't believe time did slip up. We were just children, and now we have children!" He exclaimed, his eyes still on my hair as he braided it together. He took the white flowers, which were spread across my desk, and tucked them into strands of my hair.
My eyes lowered at his statement, deep in thought.
Our children.
The ones whose future lies in our hands. Only if my Krishnaa hadn't asked for the children to partake.
We remained in silence before I spoke up.
"Did we make the right decision by letting our children be a part of the war? They didn't even get a childhood, like we did. Since birth, their goal became this war. We don't what will happen. They could die-"
"Indu," Bhrata interrupted, finishing the braid. He looked at me in the mirror, keeping his hands on my shoulder and making sure not to hurt my arm. I didn't say it, but I appreciated the gesture.
"The right path is often the most difficult one."
I sighed, nodding. I massaged my temples, my head still aching from the blood loss. "But, what if both paths seem challenging?"
He remained silent as if contemplating whether to say something or not.
"Chandralekha," He mumbled as my eyes shot up to him. I turned around in an instant, looking directly into his eyes now.
Chandralekha. That name. It brought back memories, so many. But right now, it only brought tears. Pitashree, lovingly, called me Chandralekha. Every night, when the rest of my brothers would be asleep, I'd crawl next to Pitashree and he'd say, in the sweetest voice possible, "Chandralekha, I'm not telling you another story. Go to sleep, child." It's been a long time since I remembered him, like a memory buried deep inside my mind. Locked in such a way, that the key to it cannot be found. But here it was again, the reminder that the two parents were gone. Their voices, now only in memories, had been long forgotten. I forgot how they sounded, their words and stories only a replay of the hushed sounds I heard as a child.
We'd agreed, though in an unspoken manner, but agreed nevertheless that we were to not use the name again. Then, again, Bhrata Arjun did break our promise of not calling me Chandraa, the name Mata Madri preferred. Only Mata Kunti liked my true name, I always assumed. But she had also preferred saying Chandraa. Of course, she stopped once Chhoti Maa died.
"If you had a choice," Bhrata continued, despite the tears welling up in my eyes. "To save either one—Me or my son, Suhotra?"
I stood up immediately. I frowned at him and my stomach felt like it was being tied up in knots. What kind of question was that?
Had he finally gone insane after not being able to tell his visions to anyone?
"Bhrata, what even-"
"No, Indu. I am serious."
And so we sat on my bed, while I thought of the answer to his absurd question and he stared at me. Well, looked at my neck.
"You're not wearing Mata's chains?" He asked, frowning as he saw my bare neck.
"I have to wear six, and they're real silver. They feel heavy sometimes, alright?" I replied, narrowing my eyes at him. I quickly put a dupatta around my neck before he could see the red marks caused by the chains.
After no words from him, I went back to thinking.
"The answer seems obvious, yet unnerving, Bhrata." I spoke, my eyes finally meeting his.
"Can't get yourself to say it out loud either, can you?" He asked, gulping.
No. No, I can't. I could never admit to choosing my nephew over my brother. I could never say it out loud because then, it'll be real. I'll be my verdict and I'd have to stick to it.
"Wait, 'either'? What do you mean?"
"Vasudev asked me the same question. Not with me and my son's example- of course, then I would've replied with Suhotra's name immediately. But he asked me about Nakul and his son. How could I ever reply? How could I say the words which defy everything I stand for?" What he said made my chest tighten, as if all the blood had been drained from my face.
And I knew why. His words hurt because they felt true.
"These decisions, of choosing one over the other, I never understand these, Bhrata. If I choose the father, he can always produce more heirs for his lineage, but he'd have to live with the guilt of being alive instead of his son. If I choose the son, the next generation would be present, but he'd also have to live with the feeling of killing his father. It's a lose-lose situation." I ranted, letting myself talk to him about all I had in my mind.
"But you see, Chandraa," I closed my eyes, trying to prevent my tears from falling.
"In the end, we both thought of the same thing." His voice broke as he continued. "I'd want you to choose me son over me, anyday."
I nodded my head, showing a 'no'. The tears finally let go, dripping across my face.
"Don't, please don't say that." He could not be asking me of something like this. What does he know and why isn't he telling me?!
"Everyone would choose their children. I want you to choose the children as well." Bhrata Sahadev's voice felt like a whisper, or maybe it was my ear blocking it all out. I had no idea, but the tears were back.
I know, they aren't going anytime soon.
Because this war of Mahabharat, the greatest one in all of Bharat and Aryavarta's history, was always about sacrifices.
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