Krishnatmika Rukmini - Medhini - Wattpad

Story cover for Krishnatmika Rukmini by Aaravam

Krishnatmika Rukmini

Leituras 18,923
Votos 621
Capítulos 23
Tempo 2h 24m

Leituras 18,923
Votos 621
Capítulos 23
Tempo 2h 24m

She sat there on the floor, tears flowing from her beautiful Lotus shaped eyes, hands trembling, desperate to word her thoughts. she kept the paper on the queen sized bed. She took the peacock feather and gently dipped it in the ink and slowly raised it with the ink dripping  from the end and started writing.


Everyone's familiar with divine vrindavan leela of Krishna and devotional love of radha. World, to commemorate their eternal love, takes the name of radha before krishna. 
But a very few understands the essence of Rukmini's love towards Krishna. Rukmini is the primary wife of Sri Krishna and chief Queen of Dwaraka. She was the beloved, most favourite wife of Krishna, and hence called Krishnatmika, the one residing in the heart of Krishna.

In this book, I have tried my best to describe their divine love story. Hope you will enjoy reading this as much as I have enjoyed writing this.

(Even though the story is not entirely fictional and is taken from the Mahabharata, it contains fictional scenes purely from my imagination. So I just want to say that it is not my intention to hurt anybody's feelings or religious sentiments)


Cover image credit goes to its respective ownerTodos os Direitos Reservados

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The Last Consort: She who waited, de AnjaniManda8

She Who Waited Why did she wait? What was her fate? Eons have passed since the tale of Mahabharata. The bloody war. But amidst the pages of that legend remains a character without quite an end, seemingly forgotten. But too bright to be lost, let's shed some light on the last consort's past. Cursed she was, as Lakshmi once more- To part from her beloved at every sacred door. Separation, the cruel thread woven through their fate, Lakshmi and Narayan-forever bound, forever too late. As Sita, she bore fourteen years apart, A forested ache carved deep in her heart. But time, ever turning, would not relent- It summoned the pain once more... as if heaven's debt was not yet spent. Avantika-a name the stars gently spoke, A lost princess, bathed in twilight's cloak. A child of prophecy, of love and lore, Bound to Narayan... yet left at fate's door. In Vrindavan's sunlit courtyard she stood, Pure of heart, misunderstood. Left behind not by abandonment, but by sacred decree, Even the Lord of Three Worlds could not set her free. A curse older than time, silent and cold, Stopped destiny's dance, made even gods fold. Her tears were stilled, her smile feigned, A love so bright... yet fate unchained. What bloomed like spring, withered with no warning- A tale of love that turned to mourning. despite it, memory was not all that was left, in her womb life swelled and light that kept.

Sahdharmini-Dwarkeshwari Hiranmayi, de AnjaniManda8

When her mother was called a traitor in front of the entire Kingdom by her own father who was deceived by her own people little HIRANMAYI was heartbroken, living in the Royal Palace of vidarbh became a very big challenge and the only person she would rely on was her elder sister Rukmini but things worsened after her mother committed suicide. She had no choice left but to run away, She was thinking all of this as she was running away from a pride of lions, finally days of exhaustion caught up with her as she felt to the ground with no way out there was only one name on her lips,"NARAYAN." __________________________________________ He was heart broken as he saw his lover get married to another person, she was not only his lover but his eternal consort as well, he was just standing there unable to do anything burning in the Agony of separation. Just as he was about breakdown his brother made him realise that his Sri, his CHANCHALA was nearby but his happiness was only temporary because he heard a very familiar voice scream,"NARAYAN." The entire plot belongs to me apart from Mahabharat which only belongs to mahrshi Ved Vyas all the pictures that I am using are from Pinterest, and the original character HIRANMAYI also belongs to me and copying it will not be appreciated

𝘈𝘯𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘮 - 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 , de prapti_1234

We all carry something. Pain. Shame. Memories that feel heavier than our own bones. That quiet kind of suffering that never really leaves-even when we smile. For Ananyata Kanitkar a 16-year-old girl and an invisible presence in her own world, life has become a blur of numb mornings and anxious nights. Once full of faith in Narayana, the cosmic protector... now, she feels nothing. Just silence. Just questions. "Does He exist?" "Does He listen?" "Why me?" She's the quiet girl in the corner of the classroom, the one who doesn't speak anymore, because no one ever truly heard her in the first place. But in the vast silence of the universe, someone has heard her. And when hearts call with such despair, the Jagatpalaka listens. When the divine descends not in thunder-but in mist. When love finds you not in joy-but in ruin. What happens when the Infinite decides to touch a finite life ? Cover by @OurFictionNest

Manasvini: The Resilient Princess |✓|, de mysticalsiya1468

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The Burning Rose, de Bree_Cloudburst

A MAHABHARATA RETELLING ~~~ All the other flowers in the garden were brought up to envy the rose. Maybe shun it even. And admire it, too. Unusual ways. Too-red petals, too-sharp thorns, too-sweet fragrance. If only each flower did not have a mind of its own. If only stories were truly what one hand wrote them to be. If only the blood on every thorn was the fault of the rose and not that of the hunter. ~~~ Her breathing had suddenly halted as her eyes had accidentally landed on a piece of paper carelessly tucked under the lampholder on the bedside table. It looked like the work of a royal servant who had accidentally come across it while cleaning the room and then picked it up and tucked it away. She had carefully sat up and reached for it. The hot metal of the lampholder - like the one she had seen Draupadi seamlessly remove from a counter - had almost seared her palm, as she had hurriedly but carefully pushed it aside and retrieved the folded piece of what seemed like pearlescent paper. Touching it had felt like a grave invasion of privacy, but the curiosity that had suddenly roared and raced within her like a great river breaking free off a cliff. She had hurriedly unfolded the paper and had been greeted by a not-so-perfect handwriting and a volley of letters. It was a letter. A letter that looked like someone had ripped their heart out and presented it to someone on a piece of pearlescent paper. ~~~ WARNINGS: Scenes of intimacy and violence, possible hints of self-harm or similar intentions

Adamya, de Sindhuxsuta

अन्तः अस्ति प्रारंभः। The end is the beginning. A caterpillar dies, to birth a butterfly. Water evaporates to rain down. Dead carcasses fill the stomachs of vultures.Life gives way to death and death to life. In a vicious circle of different karmas and janmas, a soul leaves a decaying body to move onto something better and livelier. But what if certain karmas are found hanging on the thin string between salvation and damnation? This is exactly where Mihira Ramnath Subhedar finds herself. The last of the many Kaliyugis, she was holding on to the narrowest beam that would lead her towards eternal the light, or so she thought. Poets were liars, she discovered when the end neared. There was nothing peaceful about death, no rest and no respite; just an ounce of faith which made her believe that she would finally find a place at the Lord's feet. But the ever merciful Leeladhari had discrete intents for such a soul that had just witnessed the end of the heinous yuga. "No, ain't Vaikuntha but Dvāpara. Good luck completing the unfinished business!" Walk along the aisle with Mihira while she embarks on the greatest pilgrimage of her rekindled life, witnesses the red of the Swastika being washed over by the red of vengeful blood and being swept off her feet by a man she'd never heard of.

𝙃𝙀𝙍 𝘿𝙀𝙈𝙊𝙉, de writes_shree_

HER DEMON A story of the forbidden, the fated, and the fire that never died. The demon. Her demon. She was the moon-gentle, serene, cloaked in a glow that calmed the wildest storms. But behind that soft smile lay unspoken chaos... a soul that had seen lifetimes, a fire buried deep under elegance. And he-he was the night. Not just its silence, but its shadows. Proud, raw, raging. A storm that no one dared to tame. A fire that burned everything it touched. They were night and moon. Darkness and glow. Clash and calm. Broken and whole. Incomplete... without each other. For only her devil could command his demon. Only her voice could silence his wrath. Only her presence could still the war within him. But what if the universe-tired of watching history repeat pain-chose to intervene? What if Narayan decided to play again, not with a flute this time, but with fate itself? What if the great Mahabharat, written in stone, was granted a new page? What if Duryodhan, the king of lost causes, the misunderstood warrior of Hastinapur, was given another chance? Not to change the war-but to change the reason he went to war. Not to reclaim a throne- And what if two hearts from Kaliyug, separated by time and tragedy, were reborn in Dwaparyug? Carrying the memories, the madness, the ache of a love that never found its forever? He was known as Hridav-fierce, feared. She was known as Vriddhi-graceful, wild, divine. But the time played & made them Duryodhan and Vartika. This is not the Mahabharat you know. This is the Mahabharat Krishna chose to rewrite. A tale where love is darker than war. Where the demon is not evil-but deeply human. And where the heroine doesn't slay the monster... she loves him. HER DEMON A story of souls reborn. Of fate reshaped. Of a love so fierce, even time dared not touch it. #1 in yudhishthir #2 in narayan

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LAKSHMAN PRIYA , de _leeza_00

"Because he is Ram's shadow... and she is Sita's reflection... One is the personification of dutifulness and other one is the epitome of sacrifice. What else in the world can be comparable with this divine bond, which has crossed every limit of human emotions. The world needs to bow down infront of this nonpareil love of Lakshman... and Lakshman priya, Urmila." ❤︎ L͟a͟k͟s͟h͟m͟a͟n͟ P͟r͟i͟y͟a͟ ❤︎ Often in Ramayana we hear and see the immortal love of Shri Ram and Mata Sita. But forget such a great love story without which, the completion of Ramayana was impossible. That story... which taught the world about the balance of love and duty. That love... which made the world realize the true meaning of sacrifices. That sacrifice... which made both of those lovers the purest. And that was the divine love story of Shri Lakshman and Mata Urmila. How was this great love after all? The one who accepted the pain of separation like nectars of paradise. And what was its purpose? RANKS #1 'Sisters for life' - (30/01/2024) #3 'Mythology'- (30/01/2024) #1 'Lakshmila'- (10/05/2024)

Ehi Murare, de sambhavami

An ode to the eight principal wives of Krishna. Note: This work does not make use of GenAI tools in any shape or form on account of my strong belief that the use of such tools is a sacrilegious betrayal to human nature itself. Hence, if you are looking for such content, please feel free to not interact with my work. Thanks! :)

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The Last Consort: She who waited

She Who Waited Why did she wait? What was her fate? Eons have passed since the tale of Mahabharata. The bloody war. But amidst the pages of that legend remains a character without quite an end, seemingly forgotten. But too bright to be lost, let's shed some light on the last consort's past. Cursed she was, as Lakshmi once more- To part from her beloved at every sacred door. Separation, the cruel thread woven through their fate, Lakshmi and Narayan-forever bound, forever too late. As Sita, she bore fourteen years apart, A forested ache carved deep in her heart. But time, ever turning, would not relent- It summoned the pain once more... as if heaven's debt was not yet spent. Avantika-a name the stars gently spoke, A lost princess, bathed in twilight's cloak. A child of prophecy, of love and lore, Bound to Narayan... yet left at fate's door. In Vrindavan's sunlit courtyard she stood, Pure of heart, misunderstood. Left behind not by abandonment, but by sacred decree, Even the Lord of Three Worlds could not set her free. A curse older than time, silent and cold, Stopped destiny's dance, made even gods fold. Her tears were stilled, her smile feigned, A love so bright... yet fate unchained. What bloomed like spring, withered with no warning- A tale of love that turned to mourning. despite it, memory was not all that was left, in her womb life swelled and light that kept.