No matter how many books you read, you can never complete Mahabharatha, the greatest epic of all times. Each time you read it, new thoughts will pop up and new things will make sense. In the incredible maze of this never ending story, nothing is pur...
The royal entourage of Hastinapur was camped in the fertile lap of Ganga ghats for the night. I was standing pathetically nestled under Duryodhana's protective bulk arms around my mildly shaking shoulders, calmly enjoying the sunset.
"I have seen your subtle stubbornness in the council hall and at assembly discussions, Bhanumathi but this new obstinate behavior of yours is unnerving me. To be frank I am embarrassed like a fool right now for letting you travel to Indraprastha in this condition." Duryodhana started grumbling again. If he is calling me by my full name, then his grumpy mood shouldn't be taken for granted. But, Gandhari left me with little choice. I looked up at his troubled face and caressed his cheeks and eased his dangerously throbbing brows. Cued by my begging tired eyes, he eased a little and kissed my forehead, wrapping my fragile body tightly.
What is that gods have plotted now to play with my peace of mind. Whatever it is, I am not going back to Hastinapur, I told myself.
Promise me Bhanumati, from the second you set your foot on Pandavas land, you wouldn't let Duryodhana out of your sight.
Gandhari refused to leave my head.
I wouldn't!
I promised.
...
"O beings! Strange beings!
Now you may sore into great heights of bright skies
But when the string snaps, you are just a bunch of stray kites!
O beings! Strange beings!
You hate, you plot, you sought
When the end embraces existence, all you do is rot!
O beings! Strange beings!"
A beggar sitting in the corner of a broad lane was singing a rather odd song with an unusually melancholic voice. He laughed in between, shaking his head glancing at the hurrying crowd, bent his head as if mourning, and resumed singing. Some bypassers slowed, fished out a copper coin, and threw near him. Unmindful of the lying coins around, the beggar continued his routine of singing, laughing, glancing, crying, and again singing.
I watched all this sitting on a heavily decorated long palanquin that was moving on the royal highway designed above the capital city's dust-coated and disordered lanes. The royal entourage finally started its way to Indraprastha.
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I am sure mother would take delight in hearing this beggar's song, thinking so, I allowed myself to smile though I failed to understand what this strange song meant. My smile didn't last long, I felt nauseous again - the sixth time in that day. Fortunately, Supriya shared my palanquin and always kept a close eye on me - from the very second, I walked to my room shaking and panting after meeting queen Gandhari some days before.
