"In this birth you never loved me shri Narayan. I did everything to make happy but you never gave me a chance. Thus, when my soul departs from this body i only want peace which i never got in this birth. If I take rebirth I shall forget everything a...
The heavy drapes of the royal chambers were drawn, blocking out the last rays of the setting sun. Inside, the room was dimly lit by the flickering flames of oil lamps, casting long shadows on the ornate walls. The atmosphere was thick with tension as Duryodhana paced back and forth, his agitation evident in the way his fists clenched and unclenched at his sides. His parents, King Dhritarashtra and Queen Gandhari, sat on a cushioned divan, their expressions a mix of concern and weariness. Nearby, Mamashree Shakuni observed quietly, his sharp eyes glinting with interest.
Duryodhana’s footsteps echoed in the room as he suddenly stopped and turned to face his parents. His chest heaved with suppressed emotion, and when he spoke, his voice was filled with an intensity that left no room for misunderstanding.
“I want her,” he declared, his tone almost desperate. “Ishana belongs to me, and I will not have it any other way.”
Queen Gandhari shifted uneasily in her seat, her blindfolded eyes turning toward her son as if she could see the turmoil in his expression. “Duryodhana,” she began softly, her voice laced with motherly concern, “you cannot simply claim someone as if they were an object. Ishana is not yours to demand.”
But Duryodhana’s frustration only grew at her words. “She is mine!” he insisted, his voice rising. “I have done everything to prove my worth to her. I have fought battles, risked my life, and yet she still does not see me!”
King Dhritarashtra frowned, his milky eyes staring blindly ahead as he processed his son’s outburst. “Duryodhana,” he said in a measured tone, “love cannot be forced. If Ishana does not return your affections, you must accept that.”
But Duryodhana shook his head vehemently, his temper flaring. “No, Father, I will not accept that! I have seen the way she looks at that Arjun,” he spat the name with disdain. “She may not say it, but I know she has feelings for him. And I will not allow it. I am the rightful heir to this throne, and I will not be denied what I want.”
His declaration hung in the air, heavy with the weight of his emotions. Duryodhana’s eyes burned with an intensity that made his parents realize just how deeply he felt for Ishana. But it was more than love—it was obsession, a need to possess her at any cost.
Shakuni, who had been silent until now, finally spoke, his voice smooth and calculated. “Duryodhana,” he said, drawing out the name in a way that commanded attention. “Your desires are not unreasonable. But you must be strategic. Ishana is a strong-willed woman; she will not be easily swayed. But there are ways to ensure that she sees you as the only choice.”
Duryodhana turned to his uncle, hope flickering in his eyes. “What do you suggest, Mamashree? How do I make her mine?”
Shakuni’s lips curled into a sly smile, and he leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with cunning. “First, we must make sure that Arjun is out of the picture. He is the primary obstacle in your path. Without him, Ishana will have no choice but to see you for the man you are. You must isolate her, make her dependent on you. Show her that no one else can offer her the power, the status, and the protection that you can.”
