The Curse of Eternal Waiting
In the vast halls of Hastinapur, where destiny was shaped by bloodlines and battles, there lived a princess whose name few remember. Devika-gentle as the river she loved, fierce in silence as the flame that burned in her heart.
Her world was one of laughter and bonds, of brothers who protected her, of queens who guided her, of duties woven into silk and rituals. She was cherished, yet unseen, a flower blooming in the shadow of great trees.
And then came a man-unyielding, misunderstood, born not of kings but of fire. Ashwatthama. To many, he was a warrior destined for fury, a friend of those who sowed enmity. But to her, he became something different. A question. A pull she could not resist.
Between whispered glances in crowded halls and stolen words beneath the stars, their story began. A story not of gentle love, but of hearts that collided like storms. Of loyalty and betrayal, of desire and fear, of hope lit in the dark-and a destiny too cruel to forgive.
This is not the tale sung by bards. It is not written in gold on temple walls. It is a story buried in silence, hidden between the lines of history.
The story of Devika and Ashwatthama.
The story of love-born in fire, tested in blood, and drowned in the river of fate.
