HELLO MAHABHARATA

53. Phthartic

Phthartic. Adjective. deadly and destructive.

THE RAPACIOUS FLAMES emerging from the darkest coals burning in the copper base were wafting the breeze of the dimlit chamber in a livid and acrid sharp odour, drowning that citrus scents of candles his wife had gifted to him.

Duryodhan threaded his fingers in his tawny tresses then to his bearded jaw, long deep sighs leaving his elevated chest in momentum before he pulled the dices in his fingers adorned with rings of sapphire and opal gemstones. "Mamashree, you win everytime and yet you insist on my playing with you. What requirement is of this other than mortifying me?"

Petting the voracious umber fur of the eagle throned on his slacked shoulder, the king of Gandhar keenly traversed the journey of the chestnut pawn over the amethyst velvet game mat's small houses which his nephew moved to the designated place absent mindedly landing on the wrong square. He had raised his bushy eyebrows and a loop sided grin exposed his charred and decayed canines. The maternal uncle of the Kauravas was disappointed in this child he had raised with a fumes, soot, arrogance and ego potion made with balanced proportions.

"My child" Shakuni crooned dragging the pair of ivory dice towards him in a vigorous fashion, then began rotating them in his old swollen palms. "Pawh Baraha" he pecked the game foldings, which could turn an urchin to a king and an emperor to a servant, shutting his one eye nefariously. The dices fell on the oak table toppling over but alas depicting number nine, four obsidian dots on a cuboid and five on the other one.

"No luck in your favour at this hour Mamashree" sang in Dushasan, the plashing of blood red wine ringing the copper goblets as a cue. The second Kaurava walked with two glasses of scarlet liquid in his hands and sat beside his elder, facing their uncle. Duryodhan brought the rim of the perspirating wine goblet near his lips as Dushasan swallowed a honey date. The brothers however were keenly stabbing their gazes on the dices which as always flickered.

Shakuni moved his index finger, a tilt towards left and a sly grin emanated on his wrinkled face, his hooded elm eyes rotating between his two of the nephews who were as usual in a slug and satisfaction. The dice's cuboid, a little chipped ivory from the corners now showed the desired numbers.

Six obsidian dots glimmering on those ivory white game manipulators, the number twelve.

"Theatrics is a talent which the quick witted people like" Shakuni halted in his speech momentarily looking at the two princes who stared at him as stag at night, then he sighed reconsidering but nonetheless some affection shall do no harm, so he continued, "us. So you must not be adapted to behave and laugh like a wolf even if my dices act to my will. They mustn't know it"

"Will they not know eventually?" The second Kaurava questioned twisting his silky mustache sharing a glance with his elder brother who looked at everywhere but him. Fool Dushasan. "My dearest, your question is coming from you is the very fact that you are a question to many yourself" Shakuni chided swigging his cardamom and cinnamon kadha down his throat with a scrunched nose at the barren taste. A fit of laughter from Duryodhan had scorned Dushasan and the latter was rolling the dices for his turn as their maternal uncle proposed and at last proclaimed with a grit.

"Must we do and make it blatantly obvious that my dices obey me?

"There is no doubt that your dices are your servants Shakuni, given that you are a master in that game" the voice tearing the strategic persona of the air belonged to Dhritrashtra who entered the chamber's of his first born with a convenient smile and a swollen chest. "Pranipat Pitashree" the two Kaurava brothers greeted simultaneously and so chimed the wry baritone salutation of his brother in law, as the ruler of Hastinapur raised his arms to bless and return the greetings taking a seat on the emerald velvet diwaan.