I stepped into the water, a rhythmic dance of defiance against the reality I couldn't bear to face. Each plunge enveloped me in cool serenity, a fleeting escape from the searing fire coursing through my veins, remnants of pain that flickered like dying embers. My husbands entered the room, their faces etched with concern, but I didn't spare them a glance. I was lost in my own tempest, stepping in and out, the water a mirror to my inner turmoil.
Then Krishna appeared, a beacon of calm amidst the chaos. His presence shifted the very air around us, grounding me in a moment of clarity. My husbands instinctively withdrew, leaving us cocooned in an intimate silence. "Careful," he cautioned, his voice rich and soothing. "The fire in you might die."
His words cut through my haze, but exhaustion crashed over me like a tidal wave. The world spun, and I collapsed at his feet, the cool tiles grounding me against the weight of my despair. "Krishna," I whispered, my voice a fragile wisp, and closed my eyes, surrendering to the darkness.
Suddenly, I found myself transported to another realm, a vision unfolding before me. There he was, majestic and serene, reclining in the Parkadal on the coils of Adiseshan. Mahalakshmi, radiant and graceful, resembled Rukmini as she lovingly massaged his feet, the scene bathed in a golden luminescence that felt almost sacred. I looked up at Krishna, and his smile enveloped me like sunlight breaking through storm clouds.
"Krishna," I breathed, tears spilling over, each drop a release of the fear and sorrow bottled inside. He bent down to meet my gaze, his eyes reflecting a depth of understanding that made me feel seen. I nestled my head against his shoulder, seeking refuge in his embrace. "It wasn't fair. How could you let this happen to me? What would've happened if you hadn't saved me? I would have died, Krishna. I was so scared."
"But I saved you, didn't I?" he replied gently, his voice a melody of reassurance. "And you held them at your mercy. You faced them head held high, like a true Kshatrani, didn't you?" His words wrapped around me like a warm embrace, igniting a flicker of strength within me, a reminder that even in the depths of despair, there is a spark of resilience waiting to be reignited.
"I promise you Draupadi sakhi that those who tormented you will be stricken to death in the bloody quagmire of a lost battle. Wipe your eyes. I solemly promise that your previous worngs shall be amply avenged." Krishna told me his eyes now serious. I smiled at him water still in my eyes. "Spend the year in exile," he continued, his voice firm yet gentle. "Use this time to heal, to rise stronger than before. You are a woman of fire, Draupadi, and your spirit is indomitable."
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This is my favorite chapter so far. Its simplicity is matched only by its beauty, capturing emotions that resonate deeply. I truly hope you love it as much as I do! Please take a moment to read, vote, and share your thoughts in the comments. Your feedback means the world to me, and I would be grateful to hear what you think!
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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...
