The Other Princess

Promises

Dhrishtadyumna and Krishna had barely stepped out of their chariots in Hastinapura when they were greeted by Grandsire Bhishma. His imposing figure, though weathered by years of battle and responsibility, still carried a grace and authority that commanded respect. With his silver-white beard and deep, thoughtful eyes, he extended a hand in welcome. "Krishna, Prince of Dwaraka, and Dhrishtadyumna, Crown Prince of Panchala, it is always a pleasure to receive you," he said in a voice that echoed through the courtyard.

"Grandsire," Krishna greeted him with his usual serene smile. "We come with urgent matters to discuss with the king and the prime minister. We request an audience in the royal court."

Bhishma nodded, understanding that Krishna's calm exterior often hid matters of great importance. "Very well," he said. "Let us proceed to the court at once."

As they entered the grand hall of the royal court, its marble floors glistening in the flickering lamplight, Dhrishtadyumna's thoughts were a whirlwind. This visit to Hastinapura was not just a formality. It was the moment he had been waiting for, the time to seek Vidura's blessing to marry Samyukta, the woman he had come to love deeply.

The court assembled quickly, the tension in the air palpable. King Dhritarashtra sat on his throne, his face stern. Beside him stood Vidura, his expression calm yet observant. Bhishma took his seat, while Duryodhana sat to the side, his arms crossed, a smirk playing on his lips.

Dhrishtadyumna stepped forward and greeted the elders with deep reverence. "Grandsire Bhishma, King Dhritarashtra, Prime Minister Vidura," he began, bowing his head. "I come before you today to seek your permission for something dear to my heart."

Dhritarashtra, his brow furrowed, leaned forward slightly. "Permission for what, Crown Prince of Panchala?" he asked.

Dhrishtadyumna turned toward Vidura, his tone respectful yet resolute. "I seek your permission, Prime Minister Vidura, to marry your daughter, Lady Samyukta. I ask for her hand in marriage."

Vidura's face broke into a warm smile, a glimmer of pride in his eyes. Bhishma too nodded approvingly, the elders clearly delighted at the prospect of such a union. Just as the king was about to give his approval, a sharp voice interrupted the gathering.

"I object!" Duryodhana stood abruptly, his voice laced with venom. The room fell into a stunned silence. Vidura turned to Duryodhana, his joy quickly replaced by concern.

"What is the meaning of this?" Vidura demanded. "On what grounds do you object, Duryodhana?"

Duryodhana smirked, the satisfaction of having the upper hand evident on his face. "I object because I have already promised Samyukta to another—King Jarasandha of Magadha."

Vidura, stunned, took a step forward. His voice, usually so measured, trembled with disbelief. "How dare you, Duryodhan?" Vidura demanded, his tone sharp. "By what right do you make such a promise without consulting me? She is my daughter, not yours to barter away."

"She is a part of this family," Duryodhana countered, his voice steady and unyielding. "And as Crown Prince of Hastinapura, it is within my right to make decisions that serve the kingdom's interests. An alliance with King Jarasandha is valuable. Marrying Samyukta to him would strengthen Hastinapura's position."

The room went cold, the court's silence now laden with tension. Vidura's face flushed with anger, his fists trembling. "You are her cousin, not her father," he spat. "You have no right to decide her fate without her parents' consent."

Duryodhana turned to Bhishma, knowing the weight of the Grandsire's words. "Grandsire, is it not true that a promise is sacred, and once made, it must be honoured? I have given my word to King Jarasandha. Is it not dharma to uphold that promise?"