MIRAGE OF HEARTSTRINGS

SHATTERING PIECE

The garden of Indraprastha wore the last breaths of twilight like a heavy shawl. Lampfires glimmered along the marble paths, casting long shadows that twisted around the fountain's edges and the flowering shrubs. Jasmine and hibiscus, drenched from an earlier watering, gave off a scent both heady and mournful. A breeze whispered through the leaves, cold and uncertain, carrying with it the distant echo of palace bells that no one attended. The air felt thick, laden with the quiet grief of its absent gardeners.

The known Eldest Pandava look at his two younger brothers and the other walking beside him who he had to force out of the room.

"Bhratashree?"

The YamPutra glanced at his younger whom he has not seen properly from days before glancing at their youngest brother who surprisingly also happen to be present in their presence.

"hello Arjuna! Sahadeva!"

The youngest nodded hesitantly before gulping, looking at the elder mace wielder who happens to be avoid looking at them.

Suddenly, a realisation hit the elder Kaunteya about the slowly shattering glasshouse of theirs that they have build with love, care and support for each other while protecting with from years but now. Now they themselves are breaking it.

He couldn't help but to blame his own self for being selfish to even notice the small house that has started shaking and now is on verge of falling. He couldn't help but turn away from the eyes of his brothers whom he think he had failed.

His mind churned with questions he dared not voice:
Have I failed them all? Have I been a poor elder, blind to the torment of my brothers while I drowned in my own?

The news of Duryodhana's death had shattered more than one heart, and he could not stop himself from feeling complicit in their shared misery. Yet his shoulders remained squared, his voice controlled even to himself, though the tension in his chest pulled tight with every breath.

He couldn't help but notice his other brother's separately just as bhima whose eyes flicked from the fountain to the dark corners of the arbor as though searching for some enemy to strike, though none existed. The elder couldn't help but think what the second eldest must be thinking.

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Bhima couldn't help but to look anywhere but into his brothers eyes. The weight of unspoken guilt pressed into him harder than any foe ever had. His fists tightened and unclenched; he wanted to move, to do something, anything, to release the storm that roared inside him.

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Arjuna remained silently from the east, eyes scanning the darkened water where moonlight shimmered like silver blood. He had spent days in restless pacing, practicing bowmanship without aim, seeking distraction from the torrent of conflicted emotions inside him. He had recognized his own heart long ago, and yet confronting it now, alongside his brothers, seemed impossible.

How can I even hope to stand before them now?

He wondered if Bhima or Yudhishthir sensed the turmoil within him. Could Sahadeva see it too?

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The youngest, Sahadeva, far behind, standing silently near the mango grove. His gaze was steady, yet beneath it, currents of fear and guilt swirled. He watched them, all three, and for a fleeting moment thought of Nakula, wandering somewhere in the world is he seeking the relentless answers of consuming questions. While we are left here, lost in our own grief, neglecting each other and life continues around us.