Words - once spoken can only be forgiven. The irreversible nature of them have always made the oldest caution the young lest they carry the regret like their ancestors. Alas! No one learns this lesson until it is too late.
(Blurb to be edited)
Vāc i...
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Every step away from her felt like a blister on his soul. Yet Nakul trudged forward numbly. He could feel the eyes of every dasi on himself as he walked. Part of him wanted to snap at them- don't look at me like I committed a crime- but he only felt bone deep weariness. Even a gruelling day in the combat barracks didn't leave him this tired-raw-aching.
He quickly entered Anvi's room, away from prying eyes. The room as always was embellished in a plethora of various flowers. Everyday his daughter would ask for different flowers to be put in the crystal vases, none too strongly scented. He could remember the day he asked her why she avoided flowers like tuberose, jasmine. She had frowned disapprovingly for not knowing such an important thing, almost a mirrior of his wife and told him how her mother wasn't fond of them. His heart had warmed at the observation and empathy his daughter possessed at such a tender age.
Gods, when was the last time he had kept foot in his daughter's room? Nakul tried to scramble up the information from his brain but came up with a blank. The last time he spent an afternoon with Anvi was perhaps a week or more ago. He was teaching her cartography that day. His daughter had been keen eyed- intelligent- so eager to learn just like Mohini and-
Nakul palmed his chest. Why did he hurt so much when all he had done was defend himself? He swiped at his eyes to remove the bluriness. Trapped in his tired physique was his restless soul that craved for something he was in denial of.
"Bhrata, you never grew out of your tendency to immerse yourself in emotions," he could heard Deva saying to him. "Guru Dronacharya always warned you about it. You learned to keep a straight head in battle but you still fail to do so in the battles of your life."
His eyes fell on the swing. He sat down on it, traced the chain with his fingers. It was her idea. His wife always wanted a swing in her room as a child so Anvi should have one now. He had immediately wanted to get another put in Abhijishya's room but she had disagreed, joked that she would trip over it in the dark too many times. Nakul hadn't argued. He didn't when he saw a strange look his wife's eyes- the one that came over whenever she spoke about her Before. Her Before was before she arrived in Aryavarta, away from everything she knew. That look always was mixed in nostalgia, reminiscence and so much sadness that Nakul never had enough courage to ask of her more than she was willing to divulge. Some phantom pains always remained afterall. He knew of those.
He rested his feet on the marble as he swang gently on the swing. The rhythmic sound of the metal clasp catching on the hook served as an anchor as Abhijishya's face kept coming up in his mind. He could see her features darken with fury while her eyes held oceans of hurt because of him. Everything could be avoided if she would just once listen to him without question. Why couldn't she trust him? He sighed, his ire blooming once again.
"Pitashree? Is something the matter?" Nakul blinked up to find Anvi standing before him. She had changed her previous clothes to lotus pink garments which went beautifully with the pearls she adorned. Only her hair was dripping wet. He got up immediately, took the towel from her hands with which she was inefficiently patting her hair.
