HELLO MAHABHARATA

58. Virago

virago /vɪˈrɑːɡəʊ,vɪˈreɪɡəʊ/ ARCHAIC
a woman of masculine strength or spirit; a female warrior.

DRAUPADI COLLECTED THE SCARLET SILK FROM THE LIMESTONE FLOOR. The sculpture stood still aesthetically, at the center of the chamber below the aloft glass chandelier with dripping wax of melted candles on the hair partition of the maiden carved from marble.

Except that the modesty was snatched by the shameless gale who tried and voraciously disrobed the sculpture from the dupatta covering her bosom. The empress sagged on the clement carpets of sunset hues and an estuary of her tear's river ran down her dark body to char the yarns of the lush fabric encasing the naked flooring. She shall not be silenced and made to tremble anymore.

She was a fool to barge away from the chamber in her impulse. The mothers, sisters and wives of this clan should know the blasphemy their progeny were revelling in. Perhaps her anger wasn't to be blamed for when the announcer Ratna reached the royal  women's quarters despondently with a wilted and shriveled bloom of red hibiscus in her hand, Panchali yanked the handmaid and took the flower from her only to cremate it in the burning pyre of her stripped honour which ate the softest petals as a man of lust devours a woman.

She heard the mocking rings of sharp anklets and those sympathetic softest shuffles of satin robes which endeavoured to pacify her with honeyed words of deep consolations and fatal assurances; all only aggravated her. When they lamented and shrieked at the deeds of Yudhishthir of betting his brothers as mere property, she only heard the giggles and insulting remarks of women who were safe and can run into the arms of their husbands, walk with heads kissing the yonder, she cannot anymore.

For it was her, whose husbands were staked and were slaves.

"From the orders of the empress I want to not be disturbed. Leave me alone!" although she husked but the command was lifted with such aggression that none dared to disobey the Samragyi of aryavrata.

She floundered out of the common lounge chambers and darted in the direction of the lavish chamber assigned for the empress of aryans. It was all a golden sham she thought and let her kajal emphasized eyes enrage in fire burning a trail of hibiscus in the silent and privacy drowned cloisters leading to the chamber. Although she heard the disappointed sobs of Kunti, curses which Gandhari gave to herself, cries of Dushala and stunned mourning of Kauravas' wives; Draupadi only knew that she was insulted.

As soon as she reached the chamber, it was flooded in silence except the violent swishes of obsidian drapes, shock waves of howling winds which transformed into storms as they invaded the private boudoir of the empress shamelessly knocking the brass amphoras and the humiliated wine sprawled on the dove white carpets staining their chastity.