Draupadi

CHAPTER LIII

"We don't have a lot, but we've got eachother."

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I sit on a bench at the end of the corridor. I watch the evening gently melt into night. I drink in the purple hue of the sky. 

Krishna quietly sits next to me. For a long time I just watch the contrast of the colors of our skin. His dark blue and my golden brown. 

I stared at the faint scar on one of his fingers, remembering how I had tied a cloth around the wound when it had bled and when I stood in that court begging for help he had given it back to me.

How could this man who had stayed with me let it all burn?

I laughed. But it didn't sound like laughter, it sounded like blood dripping on a bud. 

"Krishna I thought you saw me, actually saw me. I thought you understood me, that you loved me, that you cared about me. But I was always just a pawn in your game wasn't I?"

He stare at me and opens his mouth to say something. I stop him.

"You lied to me Krishna. You have always told me that where there is dharma there is victory. I did everything you told me to. I listened to everything they said. I followed every rule of dharma. I won this war but I lost everything that mattered Krishna. How do you think that feels? It's killing me." 

"How do you think I feel?" he asks, his voice dropping pitch.
"I carried you're children in my arms. I have held your father's hand and laughed. I bathed Abhimanyu. I braided Subhadhra's hair when she was married. I watched Yudhisthra feel so alone. I was there for everything. I watched all of them break and-"

"Krishna you don't understand. You said you would always be there for me and then let my sons die. 

You called me your sister and yet let the dice fall. "

I expect him to fall into silence, into godhood and then start talking in riddles but Krishna presses his hands to his face and starts crying and I just stare in shock.

 Krishna's crying.

Krishna is crying.

Krishna is crying.

I've seen empires fall, the most greatest warriors die, blood, war, cruelty, but I've never seen Krishna cry. 

I hold his hands, my eyes watering as I reach for them. I shake my head holding his hands, but I'm crying too, tears streaming down my face. 

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to. I'm so sorry." I say over and over again. I can't stop myself from mumbling those words. 

It wrecks me to see Krishna cry. It kills me.

 "I'm sorry." 

And we sit together like that for a long time. My hand tangled into his, tears pouring down our eyes. We sit that way both of us crying, somewhere in the space between grieving and loving. 

We grip onto each other's hand as if it is the last thing we both have. 

And the realisation comes slowly, that I have had a god with me all my life. I have had a god hold my hand. Promise me to my other half. Wipe my tears. Console me. Help me. Love me. Carry my children. Teach me. Stay there for me. And I've made him cry. My Krishna. 

And I realise no matter what I will always love him. Always need him. We have bled to deeply into eachother's lives to separate. 

"Will you walk with me to the end?" I ask.

He grips my hand tighter and nods. 

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