Draupadi

CHAPTER X

I gazed at my husbands as they spoke earnestly with Krishna.

Yesterday, I had barely noticed them, their gazes fixed upon the floor, burdened by the weight of the moment. But today, for the first time, I truly saw them.

They exuded strength, each in his own way.

Yudhishthira, golden-complexioned with a prominent nose, held a gaze that was impossible to decipher—stoic, unreadable, revealing nothing. Despite being the eldest, he was the shortest among them, standing at my height, his head level with my chudamani.

Bhima, the tallest and fairest, bore scars on his robust frame, the marks of battles fought and won. Yet his face was open, almost boyish, his curious eyes betraying a carefree warmth.

Arjuna was just as I had seen in his portrait—sharp, striking, familiar.

Nakul, however, was undeniably the most breathtaking man in all of Bharat. A defined jawline, long lashes that even the most beautiful women would envy, grey eyes that held a quiet mischief, and a smile so captivating it could make the strongest-willed woman falter.

Sahadeva stood apart, somber and reserved. His light brown complexion was kissed by the sun, his haunted eyes revealing depths I could not yet fathom. He seldom spoke, but when he did, his words carried the weight of wisdom.

As they walked away to speak with their uncle Vidura, I knew this was my only chance to talk to Krishna. Without hesitation, I made my way to him.

The moment he saw me, he grinned.

"Hey, Draupadi, I wonder how terrible of a cook you'll be. Most of the food you make is so plain."

"Krishna, for once, be serious," I huffed.

He chuckled, his eyes twinkling. Then, with a gentleness that melted my resolve, he said, "Draupadi, no matter what, you are my best friend. My sakhi. I'll always be there for you. You don't need my words to prove it—you know this already."

A lump rose in my throat. "So... you'll visit me?"

"Of course, Drau," he assured me, though his eyes, too, were glistening.

"Krishna, don't make me cry," I whispered, my voice breaking.

He ruffled my hair with a fond smile. "Just remember, where there is Dharma, there is victory."

Then, with a subtle nod, he gestured for me to bid farewell to my family.

My husbands had now finished speaking with Vidura and followed as I walked to my siblings.

Shikhandhi was the first to bless me. She held me close, reminding me to be proper, to remember all she had taught me. Her voice was firm yet soft as she said, "You are now the wife of the Pandavas. Hold your head high—never let it bow to the ground." Then, she turned to greet my husbands, her gaze sharp and assessing.

Next, I approached Dhri.

As I bent down to touch his feet, he almost recoiled in surprise.

"Don't, Drau," he murmured. Then, without hesitation, he pulled me into his arms, pressing a kiss to my forehead. Holding my hand tightly, he turned to my husbands.

"Protect her," he said simply, yet there was an unspoken warning in his tone.

Then, turning back to me, his voice softened. "I love you, Drau. I'll come see you often, okay?"

Tears welled in my eyes, and I smiled through them. "I love you, Dhri."

My husbands, too, bowed to my siblings, bidding farewell and solemnly assuring them that they would care for me.

At last, I stood before my father.

His eyes, red-rimmed with unshed tears, searched my face.

When he pulled me into his embrace, I could no longer hold back my own tears. I wept in his arms, feeling the finality of the moment settle over me like a heavy shroud.

Then, together—my father, Dhri, Shikhandhi, and I—held one another in a fierce embrace, as if trying to hold on for just a little longer.

But at last, they entrusted me to my husbands.

It was time.

I turned back one final time, letting my gaze linger on my home, on the land I had always known.

Then, impulsively, I turned to Dhri. "Give me a piece of cloth," I whispered.

Without hesitation, he tore a piece from his angavastra and placed it in my hands. I took a bit of Paanchal soil to put in it and tied it.

I smiled, holding it to my eyes in reverence, as if trying to capture the essence of Paanchal one last time. Then, carefully, I tucked it away with my other possessions—alongside the exquisite sarees and ornaments my father had gifted me as part of my wedding dowry.

Finally, I stepped into the palanquin.

As the procession began, I turned my head one last time.

I was no longer just Draupad's daughter.

I was now the wife of the Pandavas.

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