Krishnapriya Devashree

21. Shwetarajatam

Devashree was searching for the right path to the ashram. It was somewhere near Mathura, in the surrounding forests. 

The air was filled with the songs of birds, and the occasional roar of wild animals echoed through the trees. Streams and rivers meandered through the forest, providing clean water for drinking and bathing.

She came across a stream and decided to freshen herself. 

Bending down to splash water on her face, her eyes fell on another reflection that shown in the water of the stream. 

She looked up and saw a teen, sitting under the oak tree on the opposite bank. 

He had a striking figure, appearing to be of the Kshatriya caste. With his tall stature, lithe frame, and chiseled features, his dark hair had been cropped short, framing a face that bore the traces of his royal lineage-strong jawline, and high cheekbones, but his piercing hazel eyes were dull, contrasting with his other striking features.

His gaze was fixed on the flowing stream, betraying the turmoil and anguish that lay within. A 

Devashree silently crossed the stream, her soft feet paddling across the water, creating ripples until she was on the other side. He did not seem to be aware of her presence. Her eyes went to the bow on the ground beside him.

"A Kshatriya should always be alert and aware of his surroundings," Devashree said, breaking the silence. 

The boy looked up in alarm, his glassy eyes widening as he took her form, clad in traditional Bramhacharya attire, a sword hanging from her waist, and a bow in hand.

"Pranipat Devi, I did not realize your presence." Despite the jovial greeting, his eyes were filled with grief, possessing a haunting beauty,a rawness, and a vulnerability that spoke the depths of human emotion.

Devashree felt her chest squeeze, looking at those hazel eyes carrying weariness that spoke of the emotional burden carried within. Lines of sorrow had etched themselves around his eyes, creasing the skin with the weight of unexpressed pain. She gently sat down beside him.

"What ails you so, o warrior?"

"Forgive me; it would be unseemly of me to talk about matters personal to me."

Devashree gave him a gentle smile."You know, sometimes it is easier to talk to a complete stranger who knows nothing about you, for he cannot judge you with no knowledge about circumstances, a stranger who you may never meet again." She did not want to leave a fellow warrior with such grief clouding him. There was an indiscernible pull that was not letting her leave him, like an instinct to nurture, protect, and comfort.

His shoulders slumped, and he finally turned to meet Devashree's gaze, his eyes red-rimmed and brimming with unshed tears.

"My parents...they are gone. Taken from me by the cruel hand of fate."

Devashree's heart ached at the raw anguish in his voice, and without hesitation, she stepped forward, wrapping him in a tender embrace that felt like coming home after a long journey.

"Let your tears flow. There is no shame in grieving for those we have lost."

His shoulders shook with the weight of his sorrow, and he buried his face in her odhani, which was wrapped around her neck, seeking solace in her comforting presence. Devashree momentarily tried stepping into his shoes. What would she have done if she lost her parents? A wave of grief instantly surrounded her, but then the firm face of her Bhratashree and the innocent face of her Pratap flashed in front of her eyes.

"But how can I bear this pain, knowing they are gone forever?"

Her touch was gentle yet firm, and her voice had a soothing melody that calmed the storm raging within his heart.