Yudhistir
A sharp nose.
Wheatish complexion.
Righteousness, to behold- to maintain.
How lovely it would have been to have a father, to dictate and stop when you were going all wrong? How good it would have been to sleep in your mother's shade all by yourself without worrying if the younger ones might be feeling more empty than you?
The sober and modest nature was a background score in his ever happening life. Making his brothers follow rules, and then have your cheek patted a bit by your elders-'very well son!' had diminished his childhood in the four walls of self-imposed restrictions.
When Bheem went out to sneak some mangoes in the night, parading the rest of the three brothers together- Yudhistir pretended to sleep. He won't say- take me along. Because that will kill all the things he had made all these years, just like glueing a house of cards doesn't guarantee its long life, similarly, his personality needed to be guarded- a mistake, and everything's over.
When he saw Draupadi for the first time- he knew he had to keep her close. His embarrassment on the thought made him sick in the stomach. But somewhere, deep in his heart- he wanted to be first this time. Like the first one to enjoy the rain and not stay back to call the others inside.
Still, he could never express his tranquillity till the very end of the war. Finally, the war has made him mad. Now there was no tranquillity left.
