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BODY FIGHTS SOUL

"Son of mine, you deemed yourself to be among the greatest of those alive.

O selfless Devrata, they shall hail you by the name Bhishma, for you are the most sacrificial of them all, untouched and untainted by personal motives.

For walking down the often abandoned path of celibacy and giving up your due rights on the throne of Hastinapur, you have proved your loyalty to me and to this unparalleled empire.

Today I, Pratipaputra Shantanu, hereby bless that you shall yourself hold the reigns of your Death. Lord Yama, will not come to you, until called for.

You shall remain undefeated, and beyond the fear of demise. Gangaputra Bhishma, I give you the boon of Icha Mrityu."

I could clearly hear the words of my long gone father, to this very day, ringing in my ears and mocking me ever so often.

To be able to live till the end of chaos, the very doomsday, and have yourself witness decades and decades of building and crumbling empires, to have a hold over time itself, would be considered one of the most cherished and sought after power to behold. But is it ?

I won't ever regret my decision of refraining from marital holds, a family setting, and walking down life as a celibate.

Nor did I ever think of a thing otherwise, I had done what I had do to and that's that. Well, my existence screams moulding to the demand of the empire so well crafted by my father, now doesn't it ?

As far as the throne goes, I never hungered for that power and command. The only thing I had ever wanted was to serve my father, and have him give me the love I craved for since my early childhood. To have the jewelled throne and a lifeless parent, when is that ever a good choice?

But now as I stand in the empty courtroom, under the weight of the entire palace, I see things differently.

The pretended, honey laced calls of Duryodhan, boil my blood. Respect and care my foot ! It's just to keep me in his good books, I'm a mere armour to him, armour to his brewing conspiracies. To him, I'm the roof keeping his deeds hidden.

Even Dhritarashtra seems unknown to me, his head bowing down to every single unjustified act of his kids. To him, I am the warrior, the army chief, and he thrives shamelessly in my obligate nestling.

Pandavas, the ones who've never really felt home in their home, the ones I feel like I've failed. I see the sheer amount of love they hold for me, it's genuine. But the thing is, now they seem too far away, beyond my arms extent, beyond reach.

The feud in the family, is the feud in me. A fight between where my soul belongs and to where my body remains bound. And having your soul and body at war, drains the very reason you would want to live.

At times like tonight, when my body succumbs to the weight I've been bearing for centuries, I fall down with a thud on the cold floor in front of the throne, and crave for someone to come and hold me, dusting the grief off and putting back pieces of me.

Of course, the path remains the same, but wouldn't it have been easier to walk on, if I had someone holding my hand all the while, somebody to walk life with ?

Would've it been different, had I had somebody to call me Father? A child of my own. But as I began, I shall end with myself leaving no one to see the world with my eyes.

Quietly, I pick myself up, just as I have been doing for quite some time now, and walk down the corridors to the eastern wing, towards my cold unkempt chamber.

Having yourself nailed to the empire, and working on lines that cross way beyond your personal limits, has been a slow poison to me.

Now the empire, I once prided on, the ancestors whose lives I lived by, the conducts I inherited into my veins, have become a haunt.

The corridors laugh at me, the greatest warrior of Aryavrat, who closes his ears in despair and paces quickly to avoid looking at his kinsmen hung on the walls, their still smiles taunting.

There are secrets and riddles
that live in these walls,
And ghosts of past heroes
Oh I hear them call my name,
We won't be tamed.

Trying not to waste another moment in this head of mine, I quickly fall on the cold soft sheets of my bedding.

After a few minutes of tossing and turning in restlessness, I enter into a reverie, the place between awake and asleep. The place that's feels too unreal to exist. The place where premonitions and future collide.

I see the dust fogging my vision, clashes of swords beating my eardrum, as myself dropping my bow for the first time.

I look into her eyes, the ones I've wronged. There stands Amba, in the form of Shikhandini, her face throwing disgust at me. She looks fierce and deadly, not a muscle twitching in her body.

You've been seeing me
in your dreams but
I'll be here
when your reality drowns

She screams and a second later, the arrow of my deeds travels across the shield and pierces me through and through. She smiles, a satisfied smile, after a long wait, she stands avenged. I fall down, for the last time, happily defeated.

I crumble to pieces,
my body my weaknesses
on the floor.
The wind will blow and blow
And I won't be here,
no more.

My eyes open and I fall out of the stance, a sigh leaving me, the sigh I've been holding for a while now. I smile, at peace with my myself, and close my tired eyes.

Now satisfied
I drift into the final slumber,
with the acceptance
of all my scars
Those medals on my shoulder
And fault in my stars.

Specially written for Adishree24456 who wanted this since long !