"What does the letter say?"
Balram was pacing on the soft lush carpet.
His panic and frustration were evident in his hurried loud steps and clenched fists.
"Ah, Dau, are you expecting me to disclose my very personal correspondence with the Princess of Vidarbha?"
Krishn replied, soft lips curving into an amused smile, eyes sparkling with mischief.
"Ahh, how hurtful, my own brother coming in between me and my Princess?"
Dramatically, Krishn put a hand on his chest as if he was gravelly wounded, eyes curving like Cresent moon.
(It wasn't time yet.)
Balram's frown widened. Krishn smile remained unchanged, eyes shimmering with laughter.
Subhadra merely looked at her brothers in contemplation. Her warm hazel eyes shone with affection and amusement.
Balram sat down dramatically.
(Krishn wasn't the only dramatic one in this family)
"Krishn," Balram started, after taking a deep breath, gathering all his patience, "first you get a letter from Hastinapur. You don't tell us we didn't ask, respecting your privacy. But now, this letter from Princess Rukhmani, herself, just what is going on?"
Balram's annoyance was visible in his posture, shoulders high strung, stingers massaging the bridge of his nose.
Hands held the arm rest tightly.
Krishn's legs were dangling from the arm rest, head supported by the other arm rest, as his hand rotated his flute.
Subhadra sat on the window seat, looking at her brothers and the outside subsequently.
"Ahh, Dau, some things are better not known so soon or known at all."
Balram's features grew more frustrated. Understanding that this discussion would lead them nowhere, he stood up, inclining his head towards his sister he took his leave.
His robes fluttered behind him.
"Alright then, I'll take my leave."
With that, he left in a furry.
Krishn stared in the direction Balram had gone with a confused expression.
Subhadra chuckled, "Bhrata. You are used to people accepting that they won't understand what you are playing at, but those people aren't your family. Jyesht Bhrata is frustrated since if you don't tell him, how will he protect you?"
Krishn cocked his head sideways, "Why does he need to protect me?"
His words, however, arrogant, were spoken with the innocence of a child.
Subhadra gave him a pitying look, "Bhrata Balram is our oldest, Bhrata, he sees himself as our protector. If you even take away that role from him, what will he do? And you keeping constant secrets makes it seem like you don't trust either of us."
Krishn sat up straighter, panic visible on his features, "But I do!"
Subhadra shook her head in amusement, "I know. You just need to make sure Brother Balram also knows."
She stood from her seat, "Don't talk to him now. Let him cool off first."
Krishn nodded, "Where are you going to be, Bhadra?"
She smiled at him, offering him her hand and hooking their arms together as soon as he stood up.
"You and I are going on a shopping spree. I need supplies for the pooja and the rangoli I plan on making."
Krishn smiled, "Why perform a pooja in front of a statue when you have me?"
Subhadra tugged him along, "You're my brother. That statue represents my God. And I don't believe you'd like it if I treated you like a God."
Krishn walked alongside her, "My sister knows me too well."
"Of course I do."
"Subhadra?"
Krishn called out, suddenly letting go of her hand, walking in front of his sister.
"Hmm?"
"Could you lend me a sari of yours?"
Subhadra startled but nodded in consent regardless, "Of course, but why?"
Krishn smirked.
(So the games begin.)
"Nothing, I just need to kidnap a Vidarbha Princess."
"Oh, alright."
Then Subhadra processed those words, and she stopped in the middle of her walk, "WAIT WHAT!?!"
Krishn's answering chuckle echoed throughout the hallways.
The kidnapping of the Princess of Vidarbha was necessary for the Mahabharat.
And well, how was Krishn supposed to meet Arjun knowing his dear friend was being forced to marry that wretch?
It would be better if he told Dau and Bhadra everything, but then what was the fun?
(It wasn't a choice. He couldn't tell them, after all, no one kept more secrets than God's, for who had more things to protect than the Almighty?
And Krishn had so much to protect.
Laughter, smiles, happiness, love, and life.)
Krishn walked straight towards his chambers even with Bhadra looking at him like he had lost his mind.
Closing the doors behind after commanding the guards to not allow any in, Krishn picked out the letters that came from Hastinapur. Came from Parth.
Looking at the letters, Krishn wasn't sure how he felt.
(Actually, he did, the feeling of coming back home.
As if after a long tiresome journey, the visage of home was finally in sight.
The penmanship reminded him of soft hands he had held so long ago.
The words on them while ominous made him smile, Parth clearly hadn't outgrown his habit of writing like a five year old who had learned how to write just now.
Krishn loved him.)
The letters weren't signed.
But since when had Krishn needed something as flimsy as a sign to recognize his Parth?
For Krishn would always know Arjun.
He knew Arjun like poems knew their verses.He knew Arjun like story tellers knew their stories.
He knew Arjun like clouds knew water.
He knew Arjun liked how humans knew life.
For Arjun was the best part of Krishn.
His other half, his better half.
Krishn knew his humanity, his divinity.
Krishn knew Arjun,
And he knew the calamity of which Arjun spoke in his letters, of the dreams that haunted Arjun.
The future was nothing but a nightmare that was both inevitable and real, after all.
In all his musings, Krishn hadn't realized he had been pacing.
Ahh, Dau must be rubbing off him.
*KNOCK KNOCK
"Kahna? Might I come in?"
For a split second, Krishn wanted to forbid the use of that name. (The name that spoke of a long gone time.
The name that reminded me of a different mother, of a different lullaby, of a different life.
A different love, one that was innocent, one that was pure.
The sweet affection born of childhood.
Because what Krishn felt now? That wasn't innocent.
It was selfish.
If his first love was a wish made on a falling star, then his second love was a dream he dreamt of even while awake.
The first was a hallucination born of youthful desperation, and then the second was a future he had wanted long ago but never saw it happen.
The first was a destined one, while the second was a love that left fate itself in awe.
But Krishn hadn't ever thought it to be true, hadn't ever believed it, never let himself feel it.
Because sometimes you wanted something so much that you didn't believe you could ever have it.
Because good things were so rare in Krishn’s life.)
"Ma?"
Krishn asked, rushing towards the door.
His mother stood there, on the other side, looking at him with concern and affection.
Her hand cupped his cheek, "Putra, what is the matter? You look worried, child. Tell your mother, won't you?"
Krishn looked back at her with gratitude.
He wanted to, God's, he wanted to tell her.
If only for her to hold him and tell him that it would be okay.
But God's didn't get to be children.
The need was for the eighth Avatar of Vishnu, not the second son of Vasudev and the only child of Devaki.
(And the dearest Kahna of Yashoda and Nanda was already dead. He was buried in Gokul, in the tears of Yashoda and the goodbyes of Nanda. He was buried in the hearts of the gopis. He was buried in the memories of Gokul-vasees. He was buried in the ground where his first steps were.
He was buried where his first words were spoken.
He was buried where his first love had left him.)
"It's alright, Ma."
Krishn replied, swallowing back his cries.
She smiled at him in sadness.
Her hands became impossibly gentler, her smile softer.
"My dearest child, you may be a miracle, but dearest you're still my son. A mother always knows her child's heart."
And Krishn crumbled.
He held onto his mother tightly.
His hands are holding her palu.
(He used to put it over his head when he wanted to take naps. Krishn isn't sure when he started associating a palu with protection, but he isn't sure he can stop.)
And his head buried in her neck.
"Ma....I don't I don't know I......."
She held him tightly, pulling him along in the room.
She sat down, pulling Krishn down with her. He put his head on his lap as she started to massage his scalp.
"It's alright, my child. To be infallible is an impossibility. It's alright to be human."
(It wasn't a possibility for him, though. Krishn had far too much to protect far too much at stake here. He couldn't fail.
He couldn't give up. But he allowed himself this. Sobbing in his mothers arms. The one place Krishn felt the safest.)
"What do you mean, Kakashri?"
Shakuni gave Duryodhan a look that told Duryodhan exactly what Shakuni toghht of his intelligence.
"My dear nephew, I must ask how many times were you dropped as a child?"
Karna gave him a scathing look as he replied, "Well then, I must ask this, Gandhar-Raj, were you held at all in your childhood?"
Shakuni glared at him, gaze as sharp as pinpricks, "You filthy mut!"
Karna smirked, "At least this filthy mut doesn't depend on his sister's hospitality to have a roof over his head, no?"
On the sidelines, Dushasan nodded, seemingly agreeing with Karna.
Duryodhan intervened before this could go on any longer, "Enough. I do not need any one to speak for me. Kakashree, are you sure attempted murder on the Princes is a good idea? All the courtiers love the Pandavas, so do the people."
Shakuni scowled, "Then pray tell what do we do, nephew dearest? Beg your Jyesht bhrata to give up the Crown? Do you want your father to acknowledge you or not?"
Duryodhan did want his father to acknowledge him, but his cousins......
("Bhrata Duryodhan!"
"Aru!" "Nakul!" "Sahdev!"
"Anuj Duryodhan, be careful you might get hurt."
"Haha Duryodhan, let's see who gets the mango first! We can share it afterwords!")
Shakuni spoke up again, "Nephew if it hurts you so much then we can always just make the Pandavs afraid that someone is plotting against them in the court. They'll be gone long enough and after you've been crowned Yudhishthir is far too noble to ask you to step down."
Karna nodded, "Yes, Mitra. It's your decision."
Duryodhan took a deep breath, "I well ......"