Draupadi

CHAPTER LX

"I think we deserve a soft epilogue, my love. We are good people and we've suffered enough."

**(Time lapse)**

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I was watching the sky fade away from purple to midnight blue when Yudhisthra told us. 

We had been seated as we had many times, simply existing together. It had become a habit after war. A habit that had settled with no preplanning, no pretense. It just stuck to us. 

Nakula was journalling his knowledge of animals. Sahadeva had been preserving flowers he had collected, pressing them together carefully. Arjuna was carving something out of wood with Bheema. Yudhisthra had sat in his usual place reading some scriptures. 

It was easy to pretend we were back in Indhraprastha, where it had felt like sorrow would have to knock to enter. 

And enter it had. But sorrow has no manners of knocking. 

I knew something was different when Yudhisthra's fingers had impatiently knocked against the wood of his desk and the vein that appeared to potrude from his forehead. 

I knew them so well, their habits, their reactions, their expressions, the way they would smile, even how they would cry. 

And I knew something was up with Yudhisthra. 

I knew something was coming.

So I prepared myself — as one does before the tide hits — not to stop it, but to survive it.

When Yudhisthra raises his head he sharply drew a breath and then with the frozen coldness of someone who had seen everything rise and fall "We'll be leaving soon," he said.

No one even breathed. It was so silent I was sure we could here the sound of the dust settling. 

Yudhisthra stared at us, taking in our expressions and then continued. "Our time is over. The Earth no longer needs us. Parikshit is old enough to start ruling. Two days from now we shall start our final journey-to the mountains." 

With that he turned back to his scriptures far more relaxed and breathing much more steadier now, it meant the topic was closed I believed. 

Only Bheema spoke exactly sixteen heartbeats later "You mean die Jyesth?"

Yudhisthra faintly smiled and with eyes still on the scriptures he answered "I hope to reach the heavens alive." 

A faint sound escaped Arjuna. Half laugh, half cry almost. "Trust you to make a peaceful death seem like a mission Jyesth."

Yudhisthra did not reply. Sahadeva spoke "Well we have lived through many endings."

"Enough beginnings of endings to know what an ending is when I see one." Nakula said, his voice sounded different. Very different.

I did not know what to say. Especially amidst men who spoke of the end, our end with such precision and calm. 

"Are you sure?" was all I asked. 

"I've never been surer Kalyani. Never." His voice held something that went beyond conviction. 

I went silent. Arjuna caught my expression. 

"Well, with Krishna gone, we did-" he went silent the moment I turned to look at him, eyes brimming with tears. Krishna was a topic we did not speak about. Not since he left the mortal world. 

Gaandhari's curse had come to pass and Krishna was gone. 

A new wave of grief washed over me. 

I looked at the five men before me — my husbands, my companions, my karma.

Each of these men. I loved them. I had loved them. I had hated them. I had learnt from them. I had lived with them. 

Fragments of the life we lived pooled themselves behind my eyes with a throbbing force.

Yudhisthra acting like he didn't care but terribly failing each time I fell sick. Holding onto my hand when I was pregnant. Brushing my hair back when he thought I was asleep, whispering sweet words and promises. He'd stayed with me through sorrow and joy, through health and sickness. In exile when everyone left for penance, he'd stayed by my side listening to my silences with solemnity. 

Bheema carrying me and spinning me around as if it was effortless, him holding my hand as we strolled through gardens. He was never scared to be loud in love. He'd cook for me. Hands that could break mountains weaving flowers into my hair. He'd kept all his promises. 

Arjuna-gods, Arjuna- my heart had loved him with the force of a storm, knowing it would leave wreckage. I had fallen for his smile and had rushed hoping to catch his heart in my hands. He was beautiful and brave. He'd say the large things that matter with no effort. I'd given him my heart long before he had to work for it. And yet, I had always wondered — had I ever truly held his heart? I could only think of exile, our strained conversations, Subhadhra, and silences. 

Nakula, my beautiful Nakula, with grey eyes that would speak before his lips had the chance. For that alone a woman could fall. His hands on my shoulders, speaking to me. He was always talking to me, searching for my words. He would gift me flowers and keep me up all night with his words and dreams. He'd always dreamed of our family.

Sahadeva, his haunted eyes gazing at me. When I was in pain, he could barely bear it. If a needle pricked my skin he'd wince as if it hurt him. He would speak so sweetly, that one would have no choice but to listen to him. He appeared so dreamy. His heart was softer than he'd ever let on.

I looked at them now, older and wiser.

 Grief took it's time taking forms and hiding in them.

 I could see it, in the faint pointless reminiscences of pasts best forgotten and the tender yearning that painted their eyes every once in a while. 

Grief, loss and longing. Three words that described our life. 

I could hear the lilt of Krishna's voice saying, 'Fire and fate Draupadi. It was all fire and fate." 

Tears rushed to my eyes, falling down my eyes, like streams almost.

I turned my face away.

Was this our ending?

I made my decision quick then and there. 

I would go with them, for our final journey. My final journey. But I didn't dream of salvation or heavens like them. I dreamed of death. 

Krishna had promised to walk me to the end. 

He would keep his promise. 

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The purpose of this chapter was to begin the gradual process of unraveling the epilogue — to allow the conclusion to emerge organically rather than abruptly. It is not the beginning of another ending, nor the ending of another beginning; it is simply the ending The final goodbye to a lifetime of sorrow, misery, grief, rage. But within these emotions somewhere lived love. Somewhere lived dreams. 

I wanted to explore the intricacies of grief, of longing. 

From Yudhisthira's quiet finality to Krishna's haunting "Fire and Fate," this chapter holds everything I've loved and feared about writing this story.

The ending is nearer than we thought.

Please READ VOTE and COMMENT. Your comments bring me the greatest joy. So please do share your views and opinions. So tell me what you felt. Tell me what stayed.