Chandra Charitam [The Moonchild Series | Part I]

~*~|| Prologue ||~*~

Night had enveloped the City of Indraprastha in her gentle embrace. Silver moonlight fell in soft streaks on the balustrade of the balcony of the Commander General's chambers. 

The one who was renowned around the three worlds for his near unmatchable archery skills, was moving in a graceful and cautious way. 

The night guards were changing their shifts down below at the strike of the night hour. This elite squad of trained soldiers couldn't help but fail to hide their growing grins of delight as a charming voice hummed mellifluously from above.

"Gaze upon the starry sky,

Little darling, don't you cry."

Arjun sang huskily to the gurgling bundle in his arms. It has been decades since he has dared to utter these words. A song Madri had spun for little Arjun in the cold nights of Shatasringa. Lyrics which had rung hollow in the depths of a young boy brought up in the wilderness, his eyes full of dreams and soul full of hunger. 

The lullaby had been a guilty pleasure he had hidden jealously close to his own heart, buried deep inside with the pain of losing his step mother. 

Yet tonight, it had called from the recesses of his soul relentlessly, till he had finally given in to its near elastic compulsion. 

A pair of enchantingly large marble blue eyes, facsimile of his beloved wife, peeped at him from the curly mop of raven so endearingly similar to his own hair that something ached fiercely in his chest. 

Abhimanyu chortled happily at his father, swinging his tiny fists in the air as the mighty Savyasachi leaned down into the cradle of his own arms to rest his stubbled cheek gently on the satiny hair of his baby. 

Once, Arjun would have been mortified had anyone heard him sing, but that had been before the annual Holi gathering in Dwarka, few years ago.

('And no Madhav we are not calling it the great dance battle. Why! Because it is ridiculous, that's why.')

In his defence, he had no idea that Ulmuka and his cohorts had mixed alcohol with the buttermilk. And so potent was it, that even he, who had such legendary control over his senses had become blind drunk on it.

('Where are you even procuring alcohol which has no odour or taste from, Madhav?')

The singing in itself hadn't been so bad. At least everyone present had been pleasantly surprised at his hidden talent. That is, except his bosom friend who had claimed rather boisterously that there was nothing his Partha can't do, which had in turn, turned him beet red even completely sloshed as he had been.

Later, they had all promised on their Kingdom's honour that no one would let lose the secret.

Of course his rogue of a best friend had then blabbed it out to his sister and his sakhi.

('Seriously Madhav! Have you no self control at all? No.. I don't care if you are the Lord of the Universe.. get out!')

His wives had wanted to hear him sing and because he was a smart man he knew better than to refute them. In turn they had promised that they wouldn't tell it to anyone else. 

But he should have known better.

For Draupadi, the little monster, had gone and blurted it out to his brothers who had then teased him red for it and then not let him alone for weeks before he had sung for them as well. After that, only because he was a naïve fool, had he made his illustrious brothers promise, that they would zip their lips. To which they had eagerly agreed.

Then his mother Kunti had asked him to sing at the prayer ceremony held at the palace temple for the Shivpuja and he had given his oldest brother the nastiest stink eye he could manage, to which the latter had only shrugged with a sheepish smile.