Dharmyudh : The Rewritten Destiny

76. Farewell At Dawn

What is one thing you tell a sad person that would make him happy and the same thing told to a happy person would make him sad.

"This moment shall pass"

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The afternoon sun streamed through the intricately carved windows of the royal palace of Hastinapur, bathing the grand garden in warm rays. The faint hum of distant courtly activity filled the air, but within these walls, there was an unusual stillness. Duryodhan, sat on a heavy sandalwood chair adorned with gilded embellishments. His broad frame leaned slightly forward, his fingers idly tracing the ridges of the massive mace resting beside him. Its head, forged from ancient metals, gleamed dully in the sunlight.

Across from him, Sumali watched him with a quiet intensity. Her dark, kohl-lined eyes held a mixture of curiosity and concern, and her lips curved in a faint, enigmatic smile. She had been a friend for many moons now, her sharp intellect and otherworldly insight offering him solace and challenge in equal measure.

Sumali :- You’ve grown accustomed to it, haven’t you? When you first held it, it seemed it would break you before you could bend it to your will. And now...

Her voice was soft, yet it carried the weight of certainty. Her gaze flickered to the mace. She let the words linger, her head tilting slightly as she observed him.
Duryodhan’s lips twisted into a small smile. He leaned back in his chair, the polished wood creaking faintly under his weight.

Duryodhan :- Now, it obeys me. It feels as if it was always meant for my hands. Not even my brothers could lift it, let alone wield it.

He said, his voice rich with pride.
Sumali chuckled lightly, her laughter carrying a trace of something ancient and knowing.

Sumali :- Forged in the fires of a time long past, wielded by asur warriors who could crush mountains. It tests its bearer, refusing all but the strongest. I suppose it has found you worthy.

Duryodhan :- It did not come easy. I spent countless days, countless nights honing my strength. My arms bled; my muscles screamed in protest. But I endured. I had to.

He admitted, his tone hardening.

Sumali :- Had to? And what drove you to this? Was it merely the weight of the mace, or something more?

She leaned forward slightly, her dark brows lifting.
Duryodhan’s gaze darkened, his fingers curling into fists.

Duryodhan :- It was Bheem. Always Bheem. Do you know what it is to be told, time and again, that you are lesser? That someone else is stronger, better, destined for greatness while you are merely... there?

He said, his voice like a growl.
Sumali’s expression softened, though her voice remained steady.

Sumali :- You’ve never been 'merely there,' Maharathi Duryodhan. You’ve always commanded attention, respect, fear. But tell me this—why do you think of the Pandavs as your nemesis? Why this unrelenting drive to fight them, to crush them?

For a moment, silence hung between them, heavy and oppressive. Duryodhan rose from his seat and began to pace, his hands clasped behind his back. His footsteps echoed faintly against the marble floor.

Duryodhan :- Because, as long as they live, I will never be at peace. The throne that is mine by birthright will never truly be mine. The whispers, the doubts—they will never cease. Every time will I sit on that throne, I will feel their presence, like a shadow looming over me. The world sees them as dharmic. And me? They see me as an usurper.

He said finally, his voice low and simmering with barely restrained anger. Sumali’s gaze followed him, her eyes sharp and probing.

Sumali :- But does their existence truly diminish your own, Duryodhan? Or is it your hatred that chains you to them, making your life a reflection of theirs?