Love Across Time : Mahabharat

Seventy Two : The Decision

-𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓓𝓮𝓬𝓲𝓼𝓲𝓸𝓷 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓚𝓲𝓼𝓼-

"A knot of unease tightens in my stomach," Aanya murmured to Draupadi, their shoulders brushing in silently. They stood amidst the throng in their vibrant silks. Every eye in the room seemed to be fixed on Dhritarashtra, some filled with curiosity to see what decision he makes.

Draupadi squeezed Aanya's hand reassuringly. "Fear not, Aanya," she said, her voice a steady counterpoint to the growing murmur in the hall. "We have faced trials before, and together we shall face this one too."

Aanya, however, couldn't shake the feeling of impending doom crawling under her skin. "But what if..." she began, her voice barely a whisper drowned out by the rising tide of tension.

"There are no 'what ifs' today," Draupadi interrupted gently, her dark eyes flashing with a steely resolve. "We stand here united. That is all that matters."

Aanya forced a smile, her fingers instinctively reaching for Draupadi's. The question that had plagued her for weeks threatened to erupt. "Shouldn't they have settled the whole Dharma-Adharma debate about your marriage by now?" she whispered, her voice laced with frustration.

Draupadi sighed, a flicker of worry crossing her face for the first time. "One would think so," she conceded. "But Duryodhana seems determined to keep this wound festering."

Indeed, Duryodhana, like a relentless wasp buzzing around a ripe fruit, refused to let the issue of the swayamvara lie. He strutted across the floor, his scarlet robes seeming to writhe with suppressed anger, his gaze finally settling on Draupadi.

"Woman who married five men," Duryodhana sneered, his voice dripping with sarcasm that hung heavy in the air like the stench of a rotting carcass. Draupadi's nostrils flared, her eyes hardening into obsidian chips that could pierce through armor. Yet, she remained rooted to the spot, her chin held high in a display of regal defiance. Aanya, however, couldn't contain the fury that threatened to burst from her like a dam on the verge of collapse.

"Enough, Duryodhana!" she spat, her voice ringing through the stunned silence that followed. This wasn't the plan, not a single word of it. But Duryodhana's barb had struck a raw nerve, a festering wound beneath the surface of the peace.

"This is not the time or place for your juvenile taunts," Aanya continued, her voice gaining strength with each word. It was a voice that resonated with the quiet fury of a tigress. "We stand here, seeking a resolution, not a platform for your ill-conceived barbs aimed at shaming someone who has already faced trials most wouldn't dare dream of."

Duryodhana, recovering his bluster with a theatrical cough, threw his head back and boomed with laughter, a sound that grated on Aanya's nerves like nails on a chalkboard. "A resolution, you say? What resolution can there be for a woman who defies tradition and brings shame upon this court with her...polyandry?"

A murmur rippled through the crowd, a tide of disapproval and morbid curiosity washing over the room. Aanya gritted her teeth, refusing to be cowed by the whispers and judgmental stares. Shame? Shame wasn't a word she would allow to be associated with Draupadi.

"Shame?" she countered, her voice laced with ice that could freeze the summer sun itself. "Shame lies not in a woman exercising her choice, a choice made under extraordinary circumstances, I might add, but in men who seek to control her destiny through outdated customs that reek of stale air and misplaced entitlement."

Duryodhana's face contorted with rage, the veins on his forehead bulging like angry worms. "Outdated customs? Of course, you would say that, a woman who, with her defiance, brings shame upon everyone on the name of her rights."