While arriving at Hastinapur, I was astounded. The kingdom was beautiful, but Paanchal seemed more lively with its simplicity and elegance. The people there genuinely seemed happy to see my husbands alive, unlike the king and his 100 sons. As we entered the palace, I was amazed. The palace was huge and shiny. I was especially excited to visit the river Ganga.
What I had expected had exactly happened. The king and the queen refused to properly invite us, saying we had tainted the entire kuruvamsa with our unrighteous deed. I let them say what they had to say and focused on their faces, the way Shikhandhi had taught me not to take anything to heart. Shikhandi was a lifesaver, I thought with a sigh. The eldest Duryodhan also taunted my husbands with the support of his uncle Shakuni. I analyzed each of their faces. Gaandhari was truly pretty and seemingly innocent with her blindfolded eyes. Even the grandsire so serene in his silver clothes and silver hair, (their pitamaha,) refused to accept us.
We were reluctantly ushered to our individual rooms and told that the matter would be discussed in the royal court later. Each of us was assigned 5 rooms connected to a central space to enable private conversations among us. I found it challenging to communicate with my husbands as their minds were preoccupied with the issue at hand. A maid kindly brought us water and fruit, which we gratefully received. Exhausted from the emotional strain of winning over their hearts, I remembered Dhri's teachings, realizing that I had to support my husbands during this difficult time. Summoning all my courage, I timidly asked, "Can you take me to the Ganga, please?" They appeared surprised by my sudden request, but I knew it had the desired effect. They promptly stood and adjusted their shawls, and Yudhisthra led me towards the Ganga.As we arrived at the Ganga and settled on the steps of a nearby closed temple, the rejuvenating effect of the fresh air was palpable. We engaged in a discussion about the story of Ganga, the mother of the pitamaha. However, an awkward silence soon enveloped us. Then Nakul, known as the joker of the group, interjected, "Hey Paanchali, want to know what my angavastra is made of?" This was met with sighs from the other brothers, and Bheem appeared ready to playfully reprimand him. My response was simply, "Huh? Silk, right?" This led to laughter from my husbands, and Nakul, with a wink, teasingly replied, "No, it's made of husband material." This lighthearted interaction left my other husbands seeming annoyed, and I couldn't help feeling a bit embarrassed. I had never experienced such open flirtation before, and I hoped I wasn't visibly blushing.
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Hope you liked this chapter. Please read vote and comment. This chapter is a bit simple.
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Draupadi
Historical Fiction--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Dharma was the cloth I held closest. I was draped in dharma. No one could ever take that from me. No amount of pu...
