Love Across Time : Mahabharat

Seventy Four : Stolen Kisses

-𝓐 𝓖𝓪𝓶𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝓟𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓬𝓮 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓢𝓽𝓸𝓵𝓮𝓷 𝓚𝓲𝓼𝓼𝓮𝓼-

The first sliver of dawn split the Khandavaprastha sky, painting it with a vibrant tapestry of orange and rose. The dense forest, once a formidable barrier, had yielded to the tireless efforts of the Pandavas, Kanha, and Maya. In its place lay a vast expanse of cleared ground, the air buzzing with a tangible anticipation. Today was the Bhumi Pujan, a sacred ceremony to bless the land before construction could begin.

Draupadi, her eyes gleaming with a mix of excitement and the quiet pride, held aloft a golden platter. It overflowed with offerings - plump, pearly rice, vibrant flowers in every hue, ripe fruits promising sweetness, and a small clay pot brimming with fresh milk. Yudhishthira stood beside her, clutching a pitcher of sanctified water.

Aanya, her usually bright eyes holding a hint of fatigue, stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Arjun. "You alright?" Arjun murmured, his voice laced with concern. The worry etched on his face was a stark contrast to the joyous energy pulsing through the camp.

Aanya forced a warm smile, offering Arjun a reassuring nod. Their eyes met for a fleeting moment, a silent exchange passing between them. With a deep breath, Aanya joined her hands in prayer, her focus shifting entirely to the sacred ceremony unfolding before them. The rhythmic chanting of mantras and the sweet scent of burning incense filled the air, washing over her like a wave of serenity.

Arjun, his gaze fixed on the hypnotic dance of flames flickering from the homa, couldn't resist a stolen glance at Aanya. The faint traces of worry that had shadowed her eyes earlier had softened, replaced by a quiet resolve that mirrored the steely determination burning within him.

A month had passed since their arrival in Khandavaprastha, a whirlwind of activity following the devastation. The once impenetrable forest was now a cleared expanse, a testament to the tireless efforts of the Pandavas fueled by Kanha's guidance and the combined might of Drupad and Drishtadyuma. The land, once ravaged by fire, was slowly awakening to life once more. As promised by Indra, the divine architect Vishwakarma had bestowed upon them a magnificent palace, a symbol of their newfound status and a beacon of hope amidst the scars of destruction. Yet, the surrounding city still bore the raw wounds of the inferno. Tents and makeshift dwellings, like temporary stitches upon a gaping wound, dotted the landscape. Merchants, artisans, and laborers toiled away with a relentless energy, a stark contrast to the grandeur of their own palace. The sight served as a constant reminder of the monumental task that lay ahead, the arduous journey of rebuilding not just a city, but a kingdom, a future.

Aanya pushed open the ornately carved wooden doors of their chamber, a playful lilt in her voice as she called, "Arjun!"

Arjun's head snapped up from the scroll he was poring over, a smile blooming on his face as he saw his wife. The familiar warmth in his eyes did little to cool the simmering frustration bubbling within her.

Aanya couldn't help but let out a huff, a theatrical display of being ignored. The weight of responsibility on Arjun's shoulders was evident in the furrow of his brow and the intensity with which he studied the scrolls. But a month of neglect, even for a noble cause, was enough to rouse the tigress within her.

"You know," she began, her voice dripping with mock seriousness, "a simple 'You look beautiful today, Aanya' wouldn't hurt you."

Arjun chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he met her gaze. "But what if you don't?" he countered, raising an eyebrow in challenge.

"Oh, I do," Aanya declared, her lips stretching into a mischievous grin. "See? I even have roses woven into my braid today." She turned, showcasing the vibrant blooms nestled amidst her dark hair.