Draupadi

CHAPTER XLVI

I hated the world when you passed away Dad.

                                                                                          -Anonymous

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I stare at my dad's bloodied body. I stare at his lifeless body. And it slaps into my head that I will never see him again, never listen to his advice again, never see his smile when I am avenged. I fall to the floor wrecked by sobs. Dhri stands close by me and he too kneels down to my level. His sobs are quiet and not as violent and as guttaral as mine. I was named after him, without him what use is my identity? 

My sons too come close and cry. 

I wail, I howl, I mourn, I do not know what I do. I cry, as if crying would bring him back. It won't. I grieve. I cannot think, I cannot imagine a world without my dad. He was just a father fighting for his daughter. He did not deserve a death like this. 

He was just a father who wanted to protect his child. He deserved so much more—a peaceful life, a dignified end. Not this.

What did my father want? At one time, he wanted revenge. At another, he wanted his children to carry his legacy, to grow strong and proud. But above all, he wanted me to be happy. He wanted me to have a life untouched by the shadows of war and vengeance. He never wanted this chaos, this endless cycle of blood and loss.

Dhri's fist pounds into his own chest and I stare at him as I cry trying to push his hand away. We look at each other twins, brother and sister in grief, half-dead by the pains of life. I shake my head at me and we cling to eachother crying and sobbing shaking our head.

Shikhandhi too cries silently. They were the perfect father-daughter duo. They clashed like storms, they were so alike in the stubborness and fierceness that defined both of them.

I was named after him—Drupada's Draupadi. Without him, what am I? What use is my identity when the man who defined it no longer walks this earth

I feel wrecked and destroyed. And nothing will ever be the same again.

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The camp is too quiet tonight, the kind of silence that suffocates. My heart feels heavy, a stone dragging me into depths I don't want to explore. But it's not my grief that pulls me from my corner tonight—it's Dhri.

I see him sitting outside the tent, shoulders slumped, head bowed. He looks so unlike himself, so unlike the brother I've always known, the one who carried me through my darkest days. For years, Dhri has been my shield, my steady anchor when I felt adrift. But tonight, he looks lost.

"Dhri," I call softly, walking toward him. He doesn't move, doesn't even flinch.

"Go inside, Draupadi," he says without looking at me, his voice low and rough. "You need rest."

"Draupadi?" I say and he doesn't reply. "I told you to go rest." he says more harshly.

Rest. As if that's even possible. Instead of answering, I sit beside him, close enough to touch but not intruding on his space. I look at his face—his clenched jaw, his hands curled into fists on his knees, his eyes staring blankly ahead.

"Dhri," I say again, gently this time, "when was the last time you rested?"

He finally moves, shaking his head, his fists tightening. "There's no time for rest," he mutters. "Not when so much hangs in the balance. Not when I—" He stops abruptly, his voice cracking in a way that breaks my heart. "Not when I failed to protect him. Father... Abhimanyu..."

The words hang between us, heavy and raw. I place a hand over his clenched fist, feeling the tension there, the grief he's trying so hard to contain. At first, he stiffens, but then his hand relaxes slightly beneath mine.

"You didn't fail," I tell him, my voice soft but firm. "Don't carry this guilt alone."

He turns to me, his eyes red and hollow, his expression a mask of pain and anger. "But I did," he says, his voice shaking. "I was supposed to keep him safe, Draupadi. I was supposed to bring him back alive. And Father—he trusted me to lead, to fight, to make him proud. Now he's gone, and I'm still here."

His words cut me, not because they're untrue but because they're so cruelly unfair. I feel tears sting my eyes, but I hold them back. This isn't my moment to cry.

"You've carried the weight of all of us, Dhri," I say, my voice trembling with emotion. "For years, you've been my strength, my anchor when I thought I would drown. But you are human, too. You're allowed to grieve, to hurt, to break."

He laughs bitterly, a sound that makes my chest ache. "Breaking is a luxury I can't afford."

I reach out, throwing my hand over his shoulder "But you must," I whisper, forcing him to look at me. "You are the strongest, bravest man I know. You've been an amazing brother. I don't know what I would have ever done without you. Here is safe. Here you can hurt without fear of judgement. "

His face crumples then, and my strong, unshakable brother begins to cry. It's quiet, almost restrained, but I can feel the depth of it in every shudder of his shoulders. I pull him close, wrapping my arms around him as he leans into me.

"I miss him too," I whisper, my tears finally falling. "Father, Abhimanyu—they were ours, and the world took them from us. But we still have each other, Dhri. As long as we have each other, we'll keep their memory alive."

His head rests against mine, his breath hitching as he struggles to speak. "I don't know how you do it, Draupadi. You've lost so much, and yet you still have hope."

I stroke his hair gently, the way I imagine a mother would. "It's not hope," I tell him honestly. "It's love. Love for you, for my children, for our family. It's what keeps me standing, even when I feel like falling."

"You'll never lose me Draupadi. As long as you stand I'll never fall." I nod at him.

We sit there for a long time, two siblings bound by loss and love.

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