Ashwathama's accent was so cold that Dron shivered in it.
'I own Panchal now, don't command me to be friends with your students of lower rank!' He had said in all pride and prejudice.
'The students of this lower rank have considerably made you sit on this throne. Anyways, the other half still rests with Draupad. Try to keep your feet in a limit.' Dron had signed off from the chamber in distress.
Did he reap what he sow?
He loved his son, worshipped his existence. He could ignore Arjun but not Ashwathama.
The sons of Pandu were valorous and abiding.They were still standing in the court, waiting for him.
And his son, his son couldn't come forward to see them off.
It ruins his reputation...
Dron stood at the interface of this indifference. His own insecurities has always had the worst in him!
His smile didn't reach his eyes, but he pretended.
His honour was badly wounded, but he still, pretended.
His child was wrong in every sense, but still, he pretended, otherwise.
How much ever he may try, his eyes will still soften on the calmness of Yudhitir, on the vocalness of Bheem, on the prowess of Arjun and on the humility of Nakul and Sahdev.
'We take your leave Guru Dev!' The brothers sang in a symphony, a hymn in his ears.
Ashwathama could be our friend, can't he be? Atleast now.
He heard it. He did. The smoke in his eyes could mirror his pain, that's how rough surfaces could still reflect for others to see.
'May your health stays pink and journey safe!' His words felt like shattered pieces of glass.
Here, nobody would give you the respect you deserve. The background screamed.
'The next time you come to Panchal, it shall be as yours as it is my son's' He felt his heart becoming lighter.
Anyways, this was the ultimate truth, waiting to be materialised.
Some things remain, as always- IRRETRIEVABLE.
