"Damaged women are the most dangerous kind, because they already know that they can survive."
Vrinda is the only female child of The Pandavas. More specifically she is the daughter born out of wedlock between the mighty prince Arjun and his common w...
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R U D R A
Longing. The feeling of a denied satisfaction. When the soul leaves its host of mass and matter, it is a peaceful transaction. No qualms. No regrets. But this surely was not our case. Vrinda, indeed was my soul. But she hadn't left me. I refused to let my heart consider this possibility. It felt like a dream. A nightmare dressed like a daydream.
Indeed, there was no drug quite like denial.
Resting my back against the bark of an old banyan tree, I sighed. It was exhausting, to think about everything that had commenced in my life. It was sickening to think about the extent to which my father had used his power to bring me back. There's a thin line which differentiates love from possession.
This wasn't about fatherly love. It never had been. I wasn't his blood. I was just a puppet, trained and conditioned to take over the throne of Ahichatra. To reign in the name of the Bharadwaj lineage.
Vrinda, was my healing. Or perhaps the ray of liberation I was so desperate about. But the bliss of her love was so euphoric that I became ignorant of the dangers that lurked in the dark. And it crashed us down, burned us to the ground.
It was all my fault.
Suddenly, I felt an arrow hit the ground. I frowned at the sudden incident. Then a rain of arrows commenced. I looked behind to determine its source. It was a tribe. Hairy men with large physiques. Muscular arms that had a symbol a human skull engraved in their biceps.
My eyes widened at the sight.
It couldn't be...
"THIS MAN IS WITH ME." A voice thundered from behind.
I looked at a female form approach towards me. Eyes golden and a demeanor of a goddess.
"This man was alone in the woods. We never saw any trace of you. How do we trust you?"
"You're seeing my presence now aren't you, Uddand?"
"How do you know my name?" The man asked. Traces of suspicion were crystal clear in his voice.
"The daughter of the Cheif of the Vidyadharas would be well aware of the details of a tribe that stand quite opposite of our morals, don't you think?"
"We have followed all the rules laid down in the treaty. No Pishach has ever hunted near a Vidyadhara dwelling."
Pishach. A Tribe known for its barbaric mode of behavior. They were savages. Living on alive human flesh. A threat to all mankind. They knew no mercy. It was rumored that scent of rotten flesh was considered an aroma in their households. For them Death was their eternal religion.
