Mahagatha

The Agony of A Heart

Later, they would call it an auspicious day.

Later, they would rejoice.

However could they not? A son born from the King of Heavens was bound to be a very victorious one.

Yet on the day, youngest Kunti-putra Arjun was born was a day of tragedy.

The first to lay eyes on the young child was a sage, her eyes were soft as she held the fragile existence in her hands.

Her hands were gentle as she washed the dear thing, and wrapped him in a blanket.

A soft adoring smile on her face as she handed the darling babe to his father.

The father held his son with a promise of life long love in his eyes, the way all fathers do.

The rain was a light drizzle, but enough to make a soft patting noise, the comforting sort.

It was as if the heavens themselves were rejoicing the birth of this young one.

And in their joy they could help but weep.

And then the child opened their eyes.

The young Prince's eyes were like a painters pallete.

All colour's mixed together, one gaining more prominence to paint the whole pupil in it's shade only for a different shade to appear then.

Pandu gasped, and pulled his son closer.

The sage still held a soft warmth in her eyes.

Looking at the exiled King she said, "O King of Hastinapur, O lion among the Kuru, know this. Your son is no mere child. You," her smile turned sadder, "have been blessed by Time Lord himself."

Kunti, who had been faint until now, sobbed.

Pandu wanted to comfort his wife, but his son was openly sobbing, now.

Various shades of blue mixing, only for a hue of gray to be the most prominent.

The sage whispered, "Hush now, my dear. You are a Queen. It does not befit you to cry."

Kunti was hysterical now, clutching the bedsheets she pointed at the blanket wrapped babe, " HE IS A CURSE!! TAKE HIM AWAY TAKE HIM AWAY! PLEASE FOR ALL THAT IS PURE DROWN HIM!"

Pandu gulped, held his son closer.

Madri, hearing the shriek came inside the cottage where Kunti lay.

Pandu handed her his son, "Arjun."

The kuru King whispered to Madra's Princess.

"Arjun, my shimmer plucked from the heavens themselves."

Madri smiled and took the babe, she led him back to where Yudhishthir and Bheem were, playing.

It could be said, that it was on that day itself that Arjun's destiny was decided.

It was perhaps in the harsh rejections of his mother, or the failed platitudes of his father.

But then if destiny was as set in stone, maybe the Mahabharat would not have happened.

No, destiny was a culmination of choices fate had provided us.

And there was no curse out there as hurtful as the consequences of our own choices.

And in front of our young royal there were many harsh choices waiting.

(Six years)

Arjun though not raised like a prince was definitely spoiled like one.