Saga Of The Timeless (A Mahabharata Story)

49.Wounds of the Heart

Patience. People often said I had none—my father, especially. When I was just a seven-year-old girl, he'd shake his head with that familiar sigh and say, "You've got no patience." His words echoed in my mind now, and I wondered if maybe he had been right all along.

Yet here I was, grappling with a strange and overwhelming sense of endurance. I'd always believed there was some hidden reservoir of strength inside me, untouched and unknown. Despite the turmoil, the heartbreak, and the constant disappointments, I had never truly broken down. But now, as I sat on the edge of despair, I felt an unbearable weight pressing down on me, threatening to shatter me into a million pieces.

I loved Aryan with a fierce, blinding intensity. But that love had always felt one-sided, like I was pouring myself into a void. He loved someone else,  I became a shadow in his world, diminished by the cruelty of others and by the indifference of the one person I craved attention from. I had sacrificed everything: my heart, my time, my pride. And in return, I received nothing but unrelenting pain. A pain so deep and relentless, I knew that if anyone else had walked in my shoes, they might have given up long ago.

But I hadn't.

Yet, here I am. Still standing. But not for much longer.

I've had enough. Enough of the choices other people make about my life, my future, my worth, the choices I made for myself because that's what my heart wanted . Enough of bending and breaking and still being asked to bend a little more.

I sat there, unmoving, eyes dry and unblinking. The whirlwind of thoughts in my mind whipped around, overwhelming me. My headache from all the decisions that seemed to loom over me, heavy with the weight of unfulfilled dreams, of aching heartache that refused to fade.

I was deciding. Because if I didn't decide now, I'd lose myself entirely. The silence of my existence had become unbearable, the emptiness suffocating. I had reached my breaking point.

A soft moan broke through the haze of my thoughts. Aaji.

I snapped back to reality, my heart leaping as I rushed to her side. She was stirring after what had felt like an endless day of agony. I had been checking her incisions regularly, relieved to see they were healing, but the suddenness of her movements made anxiety claw at me. Had I given her too much pain medication? Did I miss something?

"Aaji, how are you feeling?" I asked, my voice trembling.

Her eyelids fluttered as she looked around the room, confused. "Where am I? Am I... in heaven?"

I couldn't help the soft laugh that escaped me, despite the tension gripping my chest. "No, Aaji," I said, gently smoothing her hair. "You're home. Let me explain everything."

I turned to Varuni, who was hovering nearby. "Call Vrushali," I instructed, and Varuni quickly scurried off to fetch her.

Aaji tried to prop herself up, but I placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "No, no, Aaji. You can't sit up just yet."

She groaned softly but settled back onto the pillows. "How are you feeling?" I asked again, the concern bleeding through every word.

Aaji blinked a few times, then spoke, her voice barely a whisper. "I feel... very empty."

Empty? That wasn't the answer I expected. I stifled a chuckle, but it came out anyway. "Empty? Really, Aaji? Not 'tired' or 'in pain,' but empty? That's a bit poetic for you," I said, brushing a stray silver hair away from her face.

Her lips curled into a faint smile. "Well, I've never been one for complaints, you know that." She paused, her eyes scanning mine as if searching for something. "But I do have some pain here," she added, her frail hand pointing toward her incision. "And I'm thirsty... and hungry."