How can she reap hope on a land where despair plants seeds of agony and sufferings?
Whose destiny is written with the ink of misery, how can she rinse the stains with mirth?
How can she put on the cloak of patience when life strips her out of it eve...
"Before leaving, hear my oath as well, dharmgyanis!" Bheem started in a menacing tone. "All of Samrat Dhritrashtra's sons will be slaughtered by me! I shall rip this Dusshasan's chest and drink his blood!" He glared at the second kaurav.
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It was rare for Vrikodar to not lash out after something so huge. That behaviour certainly signalled something awful for the conspirators, whose minds were ridden with overconfidence. "No bhrata Bheem, leave that Ayovahu for me. I shall not look at a mirror until this sword of mine quenches itself with his life." Nakul swore before the royals, making Vayuputra's lips curve into an evil smile.
"Panchali will keep her hair untied till I wash them with this mongrel's blood. Hang onto your hat for me Dusshasan; for when I return, you will proceed to hell!
Your days of mirth are over now, dear Duryodhan!" He got onto Duryodhan's face, who smirked without caring about the gravity of his threats.
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"And I shall mix mud in my food until I don't reduce your sheer existence to dust! There will be war when we come back. AND IT WILL BE THE GREATEST ONE EVER RECORDED IN HISTORY!" Vibhatsu proclaimed.
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"We'll see about that, bhanje Arjun." Soubal challenged the mighty son of Indradev. Sahadev strode towards him, aura reeking of venom. "Yes, mamashree. I'll be waiting eagerly for you on the battlefield.
