अन्तः अस्ति प्रारंभः।
The end is the beginning.
A caterpillar dies, to birth a butterfly. Water evaporates to rain down. Dead carcasses fill the stomachs of vultures.Life gives way to death and death to life. In a vicious circle of different karmas...
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Dwarka was beautiful beyond comprehension. Amaltas and palash trees grew all over the side walks, as if some painter had painted the sunset and sunrise itself onto the streets. The Bougainville creepers curled around public properties, and Balram explained the ingenious idea with a proud smile on his face. Revati, his wife, had given the idea, apparently. Pink Bougainville for central administrative offices, white for sector wise administrative offices, orange for free public utilities and purple for relaxing spaces for kids and elders.
The whole Island seemed to be a tribute to spring and art— vines and flowers all over the buildings, buildings had paintings on them— some contemporary and some depiction. Carpenters and blacksmiths worked side by side, there were public arenas for people to learn to wield a weapon by there. Bath houses, temples, playing areas, all were structured in a way that would suit best for the public. Wide roads, open skies.
Mihira closed her eyes for a moment and breathed in, letting the spirit of the island curl around her ribs in a gentle, shallow whisper of divinity.
The palace of Dwarka stood on a ground that seemed to span acres. It seemed to be an amalgamation of a fort and a palace, the defense as well as the grandeur speaking for themselves. The walls were fortified, and painted with shlokas and verses, likely from the Vedas. There was a considerable distance between the main gates and the palace, the ground lined with soft grass and even a small pond with flourishing lotuses. The pale palace glinted in the sunset, belaying its divine origin. Multiple balconies and windows gazed down at the ground, multiple buildings built together to show that it was one palace.
The smell of camphor was prominent here still, the banners with the colours of the Dwarkan warriors flew over some parts of the palace and as they neared the grand main entrance of the palace, there stood the royal family with musicians who wove their music to a high when Bhishmak walked towards Vasudev.
Mihira stood back, letting the royals greet each other as she gripped the strap of her satchel and waited for them. As it was, her wish to be unseen was not granted by the gods.
As soon as she had finished greeting her family, Rukmini herself rushed towards Mihira, taking long strides as if she was eager to see Mihira. The white saree she was wearing shimmered as she moved, as if she was wearing moonlight itself. Her arms came around to hug Mihira and Mihira melted, letting out a heavy sigh and hiding her face in her mother's shoulder, feeling herself relaxed for the first time in weeks.
"Welcome home, child," Rukmini whispered in Mihira's ear before pulling away, the smile still on her face.
"And you shall forget me in favour of your sister now, is that it?" Krishna asked as he moved towards her too, his blue and green clothes catching the light of the sun, looking like they were made of colours directly extracted from peacock feathers.
He slung an arm around Mihira's shoulder and gave her half a hug as Mihira shook her head. "However shall I forget you, Bhaginipati?"
Something settled in her chest, standing between the mortal disguise of the two parents of the multiverse. A slight stillness, calmness settled in her ribs. They introduced her to the rest of their family, all of whom seemed to know her name already as apparently Krishna had spoken about her help with him stealing away Rukmini at length.
