Medhasvini stole one last glance toward the curtains where Avyukt had hidden. Her eyes searched the shadows, but there was no sign of him now—only an echo of his warmth in her heart. Her eyes fells on the delicate bracelet Yudhishthira had gifted her—its shimmering gems representing each of the brothers. She knew in her heart that she could never have reached this moment without them. With a small smile, she reached for the bracelet and fastened it around her wrist.
"Thank you. This is a beautiful gift, one that I will cherish always.", she said, her voice soft but steady
Yudhishthira gave her a slight nod, his eyes filled with warmth. Bheem, Arjun, Nakul, and Sahadev shared smiles of support, their expressions a mix of pride and excitement. Medhasvini could feel their gaze on her, like the embrace of a family.
"Now, come. The swayamvar awaits.", Subhadra said, guiding her toward the door.
The crowd parted as they exited the palace, the warm morning wind gently greeting them. The courtyard outside was a dazzling sight, filled with banners and garlands of flowers, with courtiers and dignitaries looking on. The suitors stood in a semi-circle, their regal attire shimmering in the fading light. A hush fell over the crowd as they approached, the eyes of the world upon them.
Her father, Vasudev, stood waiting at the forefront with her mothers, Rohini and Devaki. Their presence was comforting at such an important point in her life. As Medhasvini walked toward them, her father placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, his voice warm and steady,
"Medha, your strength is what will guide you through this. Today, you are not just a princess, you are a beacon of wisdom for all who seek your hand.", he said, his eyes filled with pride.
Her mother, Devaki, moved closer, her eyes tender with concern,
"Do not worry, my dear. The path before you may seem uncertain, but trust in yourself. You have always been your own person, don't let anybody change that about you."
Medha smiled, grateful for their words, and found herself calming as her mother's hand rested gently on her arm. Her father's presence was solid and reassuring, and her brothers Krishna's and Balram's warm gaze, always filled with understanding, reminded her that she was not alone in this.
Balaram stepped forward with a commanding presence, his deep voice cutting through the air,
"A warm welcome to all esteemed kings and princes. It is an honour to have you all participating at Rajkumari Medhasvini's swayamvar. May the best one take her hand. Let the swayamvar be open!" he declared, his words carrying a tone of finality.
At this cue, the suitors stepped forward, one by one, each prince or king determined to present their answers to the question that Medhasvini had designed for this challenge. It was a test of not just intellect, but of heart, wisdom, and the ability to see beyond the surface—a test that she knew would reveal the one who truly understood her.
"The challenge," Balaram continued, his eyes moving to Medha, "is not simply to win your hand with riches or strength, but with wisdom. The one who can answer this question to the princess's satisfaction shall be the one she chooses."
The question Medhasvini had crafted was one deeply personal to her, shaped by the lessons she had learned in her own life. It was a question that reflected the complexity of life itself:
"What is the nature of true strength? Is it in the might of one's arm or the fortitude of one's heart?"
The first suitor, a king from the southern realms, stepped forward confidently, his voice loud and clear,
YOU ARE READING
Wisdom of the Wounds
Historical FictionShe is strength She is gentleness She is truth She is justice She is a mother She is a child She is the epitome of beauty with brains, she is calm as the sea but fierce like the waves. Love her, she will not let you go. Disrespect her, you will not...
