Draupadi

CHAPTER IVIX

No one escapes from a war. No one. Not even the survivors.

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Duryodhan is finally dead. His body touching the soil, his thighs broken. His screams his only compainion in death. In revenge. 

Bhima has kept his vow. His promise. 

I feel that is finally over. Finally over.

 All that was to be done is done. 

But I now it is not. 

Not when Uttara is still crying herself hollow. She hasn't stopped crying since the news of Abhimanyu came. None of us have the heart or words to comfort her. None of us. 

Not when Subhadhra doesn't even smile anymore or talk like she used to. 

Not when scars still adorn the bodies of my husbands like crescents.

I don't even know what to do or what not to do anymore. 

We leave to the Ganga after tucking my sons in their beds-my heart aches that I will never tuck in Abhimanyu in ever again. Never again.

 They look at me with such yearning that my heart does a double take. I kiss them and tuck them in give them promises of hope. Hope. I give them sweet lies that I wish were truths because they yearn because they still can.  

I kiss Prathivindhya's forehead.

 Watch Sutasoma mumble in his sleep. 

Tell Shruthakarma to stop chewing on his chain. 

Kiss Shruthasena's cheek. 

Hug Satanika.

My brother and Shikhandhi say they'll take care of the children till they come back. I nod.

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We've been at the Ganga for half of the night. None of us spoke a word. None of us could. I think of the time when we were young and married and falling in love how we sat here on the Ganga playing, teasing, talking. How untouched we were then by the sorrows of life? 

Suddenly I feel dizzy, my legs give way. I quickly catch up some water from the holy river and try to drink it. But I choke on it and all the water comes out. Sahadeva's eyes are suddenly filled with horror. I immediately rush gathering my saree in my arms, my heart pounding with fear towards the tents. I rush like a wild animal.

My husbands shout behind me "Paanchali, Paanchali." But I know something is wrong. Something something so wrong.

I rush towards and step into my children's tents my vision blurry from my speed of running and I see what a mother should never see. 

Her children dead in their sleep. Murdered in their sleep.

I fall with a thud to the ground. My entire body goes numb. 

I can only think of the way I would play hand games with Prathivindhya when he was a child and that when he was born and they gave him to me how I held him to my bare chest and cried for the rest of the evening from the joy of motherhood. 

I can only think of the way Sutasoma would lift me up and spin me around imitating his dad. The way his loyalty was the most fiercest I'd ever seen.

 I can only think of the way Satanika curled up to me one night and told me he was scared of war. That what if he wouldn't be able to protect his brother. I can only think of the way I'll never know how he got the scar that crosses across from his eye to his cheek. I can only think of how Shruthasena seemed nervous when he talked to me after exile and how I'll never hear his shy voice brim with talks of dreams ever again. I can only think of how Shruthakarma would randomly hug me, lay in my lap and look at me is such a way that any mother's heart would brim. 

My husbands bring me Dhri and Shikhandhi. Their corpses. In the rush I didn't notice their bodies lying in a corner of a room. I press Dhri's hand and it is cold and lifeless. Shikhandhi's face is marred with horrow. I can't breathe. 

For the rest of the night I don't know who reacts how, who cries who screams. 

My husbands are warriors. They fight wars. They lose children. They lose family. 

But I am a woman, a mother and a mother is lost with her child. 

 They bring my sons and siblings out and lay them on white cloth. 

I sit on the ground and it starts. I make sounds so unhuman. I beat at the ground so forcefully all the blood soaked mud falls on me. I scream I cry. I ask the earth to swallow me whole. 

My nails draw blood from my hands, my arms, my forehead every part of me that is exposed. I ask for death. I beg someone to kill me. I cry I scream. 

Suddenly I'm in Matsya and we are all staring at a box of ladoos waiting to see who will pounce on it first. 

In Indhraprastha where I am pinching their cheeks and holding their ears for a mischeif they did. Crying in exile when Dhri brings my sons along once. 

Me leaning on Dhri's shoulder and him ruffling my hair lovingly. Giving Shikhandhi, Shruthasena to hold and her eyes lighting up. 

Dressing Shruthakarma up as a girl since I had no daughters. 

I spent a entire night not sleeping and just staring at them, memorising their features their faces, noticing their every inhale and exhale, the quiet snores.

 I think of talking to Dhri before war and watching Shikhandi practice in awe.

I fall apart. I scream, I wail. I beat my chest. I beg my husbands to give me poison. I scream, I shatter. 

I think I am dead in that moment. I am dead. It's all over. 

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Heartbreak. Sorrow. Please vote and comment.