An interlude to Sunset

The Part about Plans and Brotherhood - Krishna

The Part about Plans and Brotherhood - Krishna

"Why would you take Arjun back to that glade?" Krishna looked up at the voice; it as Dharmaraj Yudhistira. The man was standing at the doorstep of the armoury, his eyes inquisitive but with no hint of accusation.

"He wanted to go, and I have never been able to deny him anything."

Yudhistira smiled and stepped inside.

"I know that. It is one of your limited deficiencies, I would say. You have never been able to say no to that brother of mine. He gets the most bizarre ideas, and off you go supporting him in all and sundry."

Krishna had been inspecting a couple of arrows, and he tilted his head to stare at the eldest Pandava.

"And you can?" He reiterated gently, smirking mischievously. "You can not say no to Arjun any more than I can, Jyestha."

A self-deprecating smile lit up Yudhistira's face, and he nodded. "I will not be able to disagree with you, Vasudev. Phalgun can be relentless when he seeks to. It is a good thing that he is well behaved enough not to do it too often."

The smile that graced Krishna's face had smitten the world for ages, and it took the eldest Pandava in its grip too. Yudhistira lost himself in the sublime soothing wave of that smile for a few long moments.

Krishna picked up his flute and, with his smile still cemented in place, allowed the gentlest gust of air to move through the bamboo shoot. Familiar yet endlessly new, the music graced the air and lighted up the glum surroundings of the Hastinapur palace.

Moments flew by, and before long, Yudhistira was sitting at the edge of the bed, holding onto the mattress, a stray tear or two having trickled down his face. He looked tired yet peaceful, the combination odd, and very much at home on the Emperor's visage.

The weather outside had worsened, and Krishna shared a couple of thoughts with nature as she unleashed a few of her blessings and sharpened some of her harshness on her creations in equal measures.

As the music drew him in, Krishna could hear some of Arjun's thoughts stealing in; the prince was in great mental agony. But also, alongside, were the thoughts of the random people in Dwarika, Hastinapur, and elsewhere who were remembering him, in this form or otherwise.

But for once, and after a great many days, thoughts of one person were stealing in more often than normal. His Radha.

Years have passed since he left Gokul and Vrindavan, and only rarely did he allow his mind to wander through its vibrant roads.

Very rarely did Krishna allow for thoughts of Radha to soothe him; to give him back a glimpse of his carefree childhood.

Before the memories could become harsher, Krishna laid down his flute and allowed the cool air to dry the sheen of sweat off his face.

"Krishna?"

"'Yes, Jyestha?"

"What do you think about Arjun's recovery? Did the weapon affect his mind too much?"

"That it has affected is not even in question," Krishna said, twirling his flute with his fingers. "The extent; well, to put it simply, had it been anyone other than Parth, they may have never recovered. But your brother is extremely resilient, and we can be infinitely proud of him."

"Aren't we always?" A pensive smile lit Yudhistira's face. "May I ask you something about Angaraj Karna, Vasudev?"

Krishna recognised and accepted the subtle change of names and was, yet again, impressed by the eldest Pandava's grip over courtly decorums.