Draupadi

CHAPTER II

Krishna had brought me to my room, his usual aura of mischief in full force as he tried to lift my spirits. He grinned, motioning toward the large polished mirror on the wall. "Tell me, Draupadi," he said, adjusting his peacock feather with mock seriousness, "since we share the same name for the same divine reason, do you think we're alike?"

I turned to study our reflections, his question lingering in the air. Krishna's complexion was so deep, so dark, it seemed to shimmer blue in the soft light. His large, expressive eyes sparkled with mischief, framed by long lashes that any woman would envy. A grin played on his crimson lips, and his shoulder-length hair, adorned with a single peacock feather, cascaded around his face. His golden and pearl jewelry glimmered in contrast to his favorite yellow and gold dhoti and angavastra, making him look every bit the divine enigma he was.

I glanced at myself next to him—our namesake connection suddenly feeling like a cosmic joke. My darker brown skin, which my sister once likened to molten gold, reflected back at me. My kohl-lined eyes were long and almond-shaped, and my lips bore the natural pink hue of my lineage. I wore a light purple saree draped in the Kanya style, its simplicity emphasizing my delicate gold jewelry. My knee-length hair, partially tied back, framed my face.

Despite our shared name, I realized how little we had in common.

"Krishna," I said, rolling my eyes at him, "we're barely similar."

He pouted dramatically, folding his arms. Before I could press him, a thought—unexpected and almost unwelcome—entered my mind. A sudden, insistent desire to see the face of my future husband. I frowned, startled by my own curiosity. When had I started thinking of Arjun as my future husband? Surely Krishna was behind this. Somehow, he'd managed to plant this idea in my mind, as effortlessly as he always did.

I hesitated, knowing how risky it would be to ask him. Krishna lived to tease, and I could already see the glint of amusement in his eyes. But who else could I ask? Dhri would mock me mercilessly, and Shikhandi—well, that was simply out of the question.

I drew in a deep breath, mustering every ounce of courage. "Krishna," I began, my voice barely above a whisper, "what does Prince Arjun look like?"

Krishna's grin stretched wide, and he clapped his hands together, the picture of triumph. "Aha!" he exclaimed, pointing at me like he'd caught me stealing butter from his stash. "I knew you'd ask that!"

I groaned inwardly, mentally kicking myself for giving him ammunition.

"Just wait one more week, Sakhi," he said, wagging his finger at me, "and you'll have the paintings of all the participants in your svayamvar. But I must say"—he leaned in, lowering his voice conspiratorially—"I can't wait to see Arjun's reaction when he finally lays eyes on you. He's going to be mystified, absolutely floored. But you?" Krishna's eyes twinkled. "You'll be just as mystified when you see his gorgeous face. Though you'll have to wait three more weeks to meet him in person!"

"Krishna!" I hissed, half-scolding him, half-trying to ignore the way my heart was racing. I hoped, prayed even, that he hadn't noticed the warmth rushing to my cheeks.

Before he could tease me further, Dhri walked in, saving me—or so I thought.

"Why are you so flustered, Drau?" Dhri asked, his brow furrowed in mock confusion.

I groaned audibly, wishing the floor would swallow me whole. In a desperate attempt to escape the situation, I knocked my head lightly against the nearest wall.

Krishna, predictably, dissolved into peals of laughter, his voice ringing through the room. Dhri, thoroughly amused, joined in.

And me? I stood there, my dignity in shreds, silently vowing revenge on both of them.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Right now the story hasn't desecended on a serious note. I was itching to give the description of Draupadi and Krishna. Hope you enjoyed it. Please Read, Vote and Comment.