The Different Mahabharata

Astrology

Niyati pov

I hate having flashbacks of what we were, how we were.
I hate how it's killing me.
We may have not been soulmates, but we were pretty close.
But do you know what I hate the most?

***
Niyati pov

“I am tired, can we sit putro?”  Mata Kunti asks, taking my hand in hers for support.

“Of course Mata, come on, let's find a place where you can sit.” Jyesth Bhrata Yudhishthir says before leading us to a tree.

Mata sits under the tree.

“Arjun and I will go to find out if there's any town near us. Bheem you stay here, Nakul and Sahadev you too, with Mata.” Bhrata says.

“I will go find something to eat.” I nod.

“Putri you should not go. What if someone recognises you? They won't recognise your brothers as they now have mustaches and beards, while you look exactly the same.” Mata reminds me.

“Mata don't worry, we're in the forest. And I don't think anyone would recognise me, or rather, pay attention to me much, I am in vanvasi clothes.” I remind her, smiling.

“Yes Mata, don't worry.” Bheem says, “Now you go search for food Behen, i am very hungry.”

“When are you not?” all of us siblings retort, except for Bheem.

***
I was drinking water when I heard it.
Actually, I saw something too.

I was drinking when I saw his reflection in the water.

I turned behind, but he obviously wasn't there.

I looked back into the water to see his reflection playing his magnificent flute.

But how could he be here?
Then I heard it.

The enchanting, humming, ethereal tune of the flute. It could calm down the most angry person on this earth.
It was smooth. It was soft.
It was a tune I could identify anywhere I go.
It was him.
He was here.

He knows.

My feet involuntarily move.
And it leads me to him.
It always has.

He looks the same as he did the last time I saw him.

In his yellow angvastra, wearing a peacock-feather crown, and playing the flute.
He is standing with one leg bent in front of the other in the Tribhanga posture, just like always.
His eyes close, as his fingers dance on the holes of the flute. 
His brown curly hair flowing with the wind.

I chuckle when I see him.
Finally.

Gosh, I'm so screwed.
I think I may love him.
Maybe.

“I am here, Shri Vasudev Krishna. Tell me, what is it you need.” I fake-bow in front of him.

“I need you, Niyati.” he says, smirking, his smirk disappearing when he sees my expression and quickly adds, “By my side, of course.”

He may have added that, but I already heard what he truly wanted to say.

I purse my lips.

“You knew I was alive.”  I state moving closer to him.

“I did.” he responded taking steps back as I came near him.

“Then why did you not come before?” I asked, taking his shoulders and backing him to tree. I look into his blue eyes to see tears.

“Everything has a time, Niyati.”
He did not call me priye.

“I did not call you priye because the last time I called you priye, you freaked out on me.”