Janani - The Warrior Mother

Chapter 18

His Abhi was thirteen.

Thirteen.

Eight birthdays he had missed.

An infinite amount of moments missed.

A million questions unanswered.

"Thirteen," he muttered to himself, running a hand through his hair. "Eight birthdays... eight years." His voice sounded hollow in the silence of the woods. "Does he even remember me? Has his voice changed? How tall is he now?" He paused, staring at the darkening sky. "Does he need me anymore?"

A soft rustle caught his attention as he whipped around, grip on the bow tightening as he scanned the woods. When he saw no one, he turned around, cautiously moving through the dense thicket of wood. He kept looking downwards, each thought leaving a deeper pit in his stomach as he trudged through the forest, his feet sinking slightly into the damp ground. The mud clung to his sandals, and he kicked at a pebble, watching it skitter away only to get caught in a patch of underbrush.

Another rustle in the leaves pulled him from his reverie, this time louder, closer. His muscles tensed as he instinctively reached for his bow again, his fingers curling around the familiar weapon. He turned sharply, eyes narrowing like a vulture's searching for prey, scanning the dense thicket surrounding him. The forest felt alive, but eerily silent, as though something was just beyond his line of sight, watching.

Nothing moved.

After a moment, he released a breath, though his grip on the bow didn't loosen. "I'm losing my mind out here," he muttered, shaking his head. How long had it been since he had wandered the wilderness like this, with no one but his thoughts for company? His mind drifted back, through the haze of years, to another exile—his first.

He had gone to the golden city to seek guidance from Krishna, but what he had he found instead?

How long had it been since he'd last held her, since he'd heard her voice? It felt like a lifetime. And now, with years of separation between them, he wondered if she, too, was thinking of him. How much had she endured without him? How many nights had she spent waiting, hoping for his return?

The first glimpse had left him breathless, as if the air had been knocked out of his lungs. She was so full of life, so radiant, her beautiful eyes gleaming with a mischief that Krishna often displayed. He hadn't known it then, but in that moment, his heart had made a decision—one that would bind him to her forever.

His living, laughing, love.

He hadn't expected to meet Subhadra that way—hadn't expected to meet her at all, truthfully. But fate, as always, had different plans.

"You have travelled the vast expanse of the Aryavart, Rishivar," she had said, with her gentle curiosity palpable under the mask of humility. "What is it like?"

The sight of her, the sound of her voice—it had shaken him in ways he hadn't expected. Simply having her sat in front of him made his heart beat faster than it ever had. He swallowed, clearing his throat ever so slightly. "The world is vast," he had replied, watching her. "Beautiful, but filled with those always fighting for survival."

Subhadra tilted her head, considering his words. "And yet," she said, her gaze unwavering, "There are those that fight not only for survival but for righteousness."

"Yes," he had agreed, his heart pounding. "There are."

"I know of five princes..." she whispered slightly, her tone measured. "Have you met them....the Pandavas?"

"The Pandavas?" he repeated slowly, buying himself a moment to steady his racing thoughts.

She nodded, her hands tightening over her knees as she pulled them closer to her chest. "Surely you have heard of them, the five brothers..." she said, her voice carrying a hint of curiosity. "One of them....Prince Arjun, I believe...is quite the legend in all of Dwarka. The apple of my brother's eye, if you will."