APRICITY

4.Query

"So delicate. He is too tiny." I giggled. I held the six months old Vajra in my lap.

The baby too giggled at me as he tried to catch my flying fingers above him.

Vajra, my newest cousin babbled his own sweet words. Pitamah Nakul helped me to make a little wooden horse for him. I could see the joy in his eyes when he grasped the brown four-legged toy with his tiny hands.
That was the day I realized I am no more a child. I am a big brother now.

"Oh, Vajra!" He plopped on his hands and rolled out of my lap. Before I could grab him, he was on the edge of the bed. Thanks to Suthanu Bua, she always kept extra cushions on the edge.

"Vajra has become so naughty these days." I rubbed my chin in a thoughtful note as Mata nodded her head in agreement.

"This says who?" Mata pulled my ears.

"Ouch!" I groaned, laughing in the next instant.

"Somebody is calling Rajkumar Parikshit." A sevika informed us.

"Oh, it must be Suvarma." I exclaimed in delight. "Mata take care of Vajra." I fled towards the garden.

"Parikshit!" Surjan enveloped me in a warm embrace.

"Mitr," I asked, "Why did you delay your arrival for such a long time?"

"My Pitamah fell ill."

"Is he fine now?"

"He is fit as a fiddle, don't worry."

I heaved a sigh of relief. It was the first time in the six years of my life, that we were separated from each other. Still, there was no one to blame, he had gone to pay visit to his grandparents. Perhaps, Magadh was quite far from here, where his grandparents lived. Otherwise, we were flesh-and-blood.

"Now, tell me how is Magadh like?"

"It is a peaceful state, but people often sing praises of the Kuru clan. Still, there are some immoral beings who speak names on our monarch."

"What does they say?" I enquired, curiousity getting the upper hand.

"The things which happened in Kurukshetra..." Suvarma trailed.

"Yes, so?"

"Leave it Pari. It was a dark age." Suvarma had better thoughts than me. I knew that. He was bestowed upon with more wit and maturity. His family was equally traumatised after the war. His uncle was a Rathi and a junior commander of the seventh battalion, slained in the war.

Every family had its misery, neither me nor Varma was indifferent to that.

"Suvarma" I broke his trench. "Look, I have grown taller than you." I levelled my shoulder to his.

"Seems like it." He frowned at my expense. I was relieved mentally that I could successfully dodge the topic.

"But, have you ever thought this way?" Suvarma chose to avert his eyes. " These aren't my words but rumours has in Magadh that the whole war was a family feud. It smouldered over the years and took this demon cast."

I stood flummoxed at his opinion. I had never paid attention to these old things. Was my family responsible for the whole massacre in Aryavart? I chose to suppress my thoughts.

"Trust me Mitr, I never wish to doubt our monarchy. It's blasphemy." He held my hand as if to beg for forgiveness. "I disclosed my heart to a companion. To you."

"No, Varma. I know how loyal your family is to mine. I respect your views. It's just that I can't accept it."

I realized our exchange was going uncertain. The topic of Kurukshetra was itself an uncertain one. Some people were too traumatised to speak, some were just ignorant. It had been almost six and a half years after the Kurukshetra battle, still the shadows of it kept lurking in the corners of the streets and palaces.

I had enquired Mata once, she grimaced a moment, then an unknown yet composed smile adorned her usually lit face. I couldn't decipher her emotions. My other kakashrees simply ignored the topic, I was maybe too small to be discussed about. The matter of the fact was that, I did never formally get to know what actually happened but a part of me was aware of the existing tension around me.

I showed Suvarma my newly learned archery tactics. He was easily impressed at it. Afterall, Pitamah Arjun's hard labour on me was bearing fruits. Besides, Suvarma overwhelmed me with his wrestling. My left arm still throbbed in pain after the last bout.

The sun had set long ago. I bade a warm goodbye to my friend. Indeed a long day it was, I dragged my tired self towards my chamber. But I stumbled near the library. Peeping inside, my eyes caught Pitamah Sahadev deeply engrossed in a book. It was a common sight, though. Still, library always fascinated me.

"Pitamah." I voiced. He managed a half-smile looking over at me. A part of me realized how Pitamah Sahadev might be displeased deep within for interrupting his study.

"Putra, did you have your dinner?" He asked. I nodded in disagreement.

Curiousity got the better of me, as I blurted out my long-buried notion, "Pitamah, who is the culprit behind the Kurukshetra war?" I immediately rebuked myself to utter such a thing in front of him. "I don't mean to disrespect you, or any of the elders. I just want to know."

He smiled at me in the most calm way possible. I stared at him blankly processing whether to apologise further.

"Tell me Putra, the day before yesterday you fell in a pit, right?" He asked.

"Ah, yes."

"When you fell, did you blame the Earth for creating a pit right over there?"

"No, why will I ?"

"Then, were you at fault?"

"I was practicing sword, Pitamah. I didn't notice the pit. My eyes were on the confronting person."

"So, who is to blame?"

I chukkled softly, "Nobody, the incident was never intentional. There was a pit, I fell in it. I wasn't conscious enough maybe."

"Putra," His whole attention zeroed on me, "Did you get your answer?"

I was bewildered, the answer to my question was apparently easy.

I got a lesson, a terrible one.
Everything is responsible, no one is to blame.

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