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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Mihira's family never knew how much blood she had on her hands. She always cleaned them meticulously before entering her house.
The viciousness that she had learnt to conceal was second nature to her, as if she were made of venom instead of blood. It was easy, terrifyingly so, to slit someone's throat, ear to ear. It was so very easy to ignore the smell of burning flesh as she walked away. So easy, to lie that the smell of burnt flesh was coming from her because she walked through an area of atrocity, not because she caused said atrocity.
The viciousness in her heart, the one lying dormant for a year now, growled in frustration when the news reached Vidharbh that the Pandav princes and their mother tragically lost their lives when they went away to do some pooja.
Mihira watched blandly as Saini spoke of the atrocity, of how they found terribly burnt bodies and how unfortunate it was. How they couldn't even get proper last rites, because the bodies were so terribly damaged that transporting them to the capital of Hastinapur, even with all the herbs and options, would be impossible. No one but Gangaputra Bhishma had been able to reach the scene of tragedy. Gossip was, when he reached the place, vultures had already started to feast on the bodies of the supposed princes and their mother.
Saini shed a tear. Mihira didn't blame her. The news, the description of it, the timing, all of it was terribly sad. If she hadn't been so desensitised to the concept of violence and death, even Mihira would have found the news upsetting. As it was, all she could feel was pity towards Bhishma. A man destined to see the fall of his own lineage.
She only wished that she knew more accurate facts about the upcoming war. If she had a vague timeline, Mihira could at least make sure that she could convince Vidharbh rulers to side with the Pandavas and she could assassinate some people in their sleep. Jayadrath, for one. Ashwatthama, surely. Men who killed children and boasted their prowess and loyalty.
Unfortunately, as it were, all she could do currently was wait and plan.
Mihira waited at the balcony in the evening as she always did before leaving for home, for a glimpse of Rukmanetra if not for a conversation with him.
He didn't come.
She debated on what she must do next. The burning feeling under her breastbone cried and wailed for a glimpse of him, of the man who seemed to haunt Mihira in all her waking hours even when he wasn't in her vicinity. The intensity and enormity of her feelings terrified her to marrow but there was nothing she could do about any of it.
Mihira took a deep breath and walked towards the department of law maintenance, two floors above the balcony. She knew he'd be in his office, and something anxious and terrible in her chest forced her to see him. See his hair pulled back neatly, see the scar on his shoulder, see the chandan marks under his ears that he never seemed to remember to brush off. See his chest rise and fall with every deliberately calm breath. See the indent of his rudraksha bracelet on his wrist, the proof of blood in his veins.
