02 | Kampilya's Royals

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EXT. RITUAL GROUNDS - EVENING.

Sanskrit chants fill the air, as Yaja and Upyaja go through the motions of preparing the oblations for the yajna. The fire crackles, and we see it reflected in Drupada's eyes, full of hope and desire. His queen PRISHATI sits beside him, perfectly poised, but her longing is clearly evident.

Yaja pours some oblations into the fire. We sweep over the people of Panchala in the distance, most staring in rapt attention at the fire, the rest whispering to the others.


YAJA

Maharani Prishati, come forth. A son and daughter await you!


Prishati shifts nervously, having just realised something.


PRISHATI

(demurely)

Forgive me, Maharshi. But I have been anointed with perfumed and sweet scents, I am hardly fit to accept this sanctified libation. Wait awhile, Maharshi, for this happy event!


YAJA

(angered)

Maharani, whether you come or not, destiny does not wait!


Yaja throws the butter in the fire. It blazes up; no one rears back but stares up at the fire in anticipation and awe. Drupada's expression teeters on the edge of dangerous, it seems as though he himself will reach into the fire.

The flames crackle. The sky is clear, however, a single clap of thunder is heard in the distance. It sounds joyous.


YAJA

Behold, O people of Panchala!


A figure takes shape in the fire. The flames rise higher. The anticipation builds.

A man steps out. He is dressed in celestial armour and holds a sword in his hand. A crown rests on his head. His eyes are calm, but upon beholding him, it appears as though he personifies the very fire he stepped out of. He looks around, and greets Yaja and Upyaja who raise their hands in blessing, wide smiles on their faces.

There is a roar from the crowd. His complexion is mottled gold in the light of the fire as he joins his hands and bows.

A voice from the heavens is heard.


AKASHAVANI (V.O.)

(thundering voice)

This prince of yours has been born to kill Drona! He will put an end to his father's sorrow!


The crowd roars in approval at these words. Drupada's expression is mixed with awe and some hint of relief. Beside him, Prishati stares, barely managing to keep her composure.

The prince turns to the yajnakunda. His smile indicates he is waiting for someone else.

Everything goes quiet. The only sound is of the fire.

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