Indraprastha
As queen of Indraprastha, I ruled beside Yudhishthira. He had discovered early that I possessed a quicker mind for decisions than his own, and though his ego should have bristled, he valued my counsel. I learned to temper my voice, to appear neither overpowering nor submissive, to shape authority into something graceful.
I was thriving, or at least that is what the world believed. A mother, a wife, a queen — performing each role with precision. Days rushed past me like chariots in a race, nights folded into themselves with little resistance. My family praised me for molding myself so well to a life no woman should have been asked to endure.
Yet there were nights when silence grew heavy, when I wondered — is this all? Poets sang of me: my birth from the flames, my beauty, my impossible marriage. But what had I truly done? I felt small against the prophecy that shadowed me, the whispered destiny that I was born to fracture dynasties, to set kingdoms ablaze.
When I pressed Krishna for answers, he only smiled, the way he always does — like he knows everything and intends to tell me nothing. "You still have a long way, Sakhi. Live in this moment. Follow dharma. Forgive. Learn to be happy."
And when I pushed harder, his reply was always the same: "We will cross the bridge when it comes."
His words haunted me more than silence would have. I longed to demand, to tear knowledge from his lips. Instead, I returned to my ledgers, my ink-stained fingers shaking slightly as I cleared my mind. Perhaps he was right. Perhaps destiny would reveal itself when it must.
But sometimes I caught myself thinking: what if my destiny was not the fire? What if I was meant to burn quietly, behind walls, my light mistaken for nothing more than a queen's reflection?
Nakula
When Nakula's year came, there was a quietness to it. Arjuna was absent, so the cycle of our lives shifted almost without pause.
He entered our chamber one night with that careless grace of his — every line of his face sculpted, every careless lock of hair falling into his grey eyes as though the gods themselves arranged him. I let my gaze linger a moment too long, then caught myself with a sigh. Beauty was his birthright, and he knew it.
He took my hand suddenly, lowering his voice. "Come with me. Hide your face."
"Why?" I whispered back, matching his tone in spite of myself.
"Because the moon is full, and the rain is soft. It is a perfect night for walking."
I rolled my eyes. "And why must we whisper, husband?"
He only grinned.
The Rain
Later, he leaned against a tree, droplets running down his hair, and had the audacity to use the end of my saree to wipe himself dry. I glared.
"What?" he asked, feigning innocence.
"You dragged me out into the rain and now we stand here only so you can fix your hair. You look fine. Let's go."
He gave me that smile — the one that always hovers between mischief and reverence. "Just fine? Nothing more for the handsomest man in Aryavarta?"
I arched a brow. "You look heart-stoppingly handsome. Now move."
But he wasn't done. "What if I told you I brought you here only to watch the rain fall on you? To see water touch what I could not?" His voice was soft, the playfulness dissolving into something bare. "What if I told you, Draupadi, that I think I love you?"
For a moment, I could only stare at him, my breath tangled with the rain. Then I answered quietly, "I love you too."
He laughed then, relief and triumph mixing, and with an almost boyish gesture fluttered his lashes at me. I shook my head, smiling despite myself.
We ran back hand in hand, the world blurred by rain. His palm was warm against mine, a strange, anchoring comfort. For that fleeting moment, drenched in the scent of earth and storm, I felt what poets mean when they speak of love — not the burning kind, not the shattering kind. But the quiet, disarming warmth that makes even destiny wait at the door.
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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...
