Kanha's Priya

It All Lies in Motherhood

"Rajmata, Maharani―" A dasi spoke up, stopping Kunti in the middle of Indraprasth's now sombre hallways.

"Tell her, I don't want to have anything. I'm not hungry." Kunti cut her midway, passively answering the question.

She sighed, yet to decide whether she was crestfallen, indignant or wholly nothing. Everything looked placid and others were so even-tempered, disappointing her even more. She was lamenting a yet another rift caused amongst her own children, just for the sake of one's pride and being persnickety for their self seeking rights.

Her wandering, water brimmed eyes came to a rest, fixing themselves on an articulate yet hushed sight in front of them ― Dhriti's chamber.

"No matter if I'm here or not, my chambers should always be lit up with diyas.
I don't like darkness." A lone tears rolled down Kunti's tired face as she remembered her daughter's words.

The room looked dispirited, the little lamps were blown off with to the heavy winds circulating around. Dhriti's aura always surrounded her chambers, in the little things she has left back ; but not today. This time, a daughter, a sister, a rajkumari and now a Queen had really left Indraprasth.

Kunti walked inside through the darkness, taking a intentive look at each object neatly riveted at their places, her maiden jewellery pristinely arranged in front of the quaint mirror which reflected the dainty moon light falling on it through the curtains.

"Mata..." Kunti's evocative trance was interrupted with Draupadi's low voice as she walked inside, until she stood right behind her mother-in-law.

"The sunshine of Indraprasth has been overshadowed with pride." Kunti spoke, without turning around as she gently picked up one of Dhriti's necklaces.

"I was wrong. Soo wrong that I failed to realize―" Draupadi's voice wasn't firm anymore.

"No Draupadi. You weren't at fault. If there was anyone responsible for all this, it's me.
Its me, me as a mother whose sons always took their sister for granted.
It was me who stayed quiet without realizing how selfless that little piece of my heart is, to bear everything for a greater good.
It's me who always asked her to be silent instead of retaliating against something.
Its me who didn't stop all this even when I had all rights to do so." Kunti sounded defeated.

Draupadi was grief stricken and dumbstruck at Kunti's condition. Panchali was always fascinated by the nobel yet bold personality she had and always thought that it was actually Kunti who transformed the little flower like daughter into what she was today.
Kunti maintained a cordial relationship with almost everyone yet, seeing her weekly break down had guilt tripped Draupadi to a more larger extent.

"You know what were Aryaputra's last words to Madri?" Kunti's swollen eyes looked up, to meet Draupadi's anguished ones.

"Madri.... our Dhriti, my Vrindapriya, she's a royalty with or without the titles, with or without the throne of Hastinapur accepting her as the Raj Kanya Kuruvansh.
Raise her just the way you both will raise our brave sons. I want my daughter to grow up into a strong and self-reliant woman.

Today, I've raised that nine year old into a woman her father always wanted her to be but–but I failed to raise his sons like a Kuruvanshi.
Their ignorance and silence have disgraced the might of this Kuruvansh." Kunti wiped her tears, not wanting to trace back to that time when both Pandu and Madri left the seven of them behind.

"I–I don't even deserve to face her anymore.
I have degraded mine as well as Aryaputros image in front of everyone else." Draupadi looked away, wiping her tears.

Silence once again dominated the desponent little domain as Draupadi let out her shaky breath, without realizing that she had held it for quiet long.
Her eyes occasionally glanced towards the entrance of the chambers, checking ever now and then to make sure her little kids, who share an unbelievably close bond with their Bua are familiar with any of this rifting wreck.