The Mahābhārata, an epic of unparalleled intrigue and profound mysteries, has revealed an untold tale of a couple that was lost to the pages of history. This enigmatic story revolves around an unsung heroine, whose life and transformation is the sub...
The stage play depicted the profound grief that flowed from the depths of Vatsala's heart during the cākravyūha (Chakravyuha). It was the same tale that Subhadrā used to narrate to Parīkṣit when he was just a toddler. The memories of that time brought tears to Parīkṣit's eyes, and he closed them, overwhelmed by melancholy. He could hear his mother's sobs and feel his father's comforting touch.
On the battleground, the blood of the sixteen-year-old boy, Abhimanyu, boiled. He lay on the ground, coughing up blood, as memories of his life swirled before his eyes. Blinking away his tears, he pressed his palms against the rough soil, attempting to get up. But his body failed him, and each breath became a struggle. As Abhimanyu realized it was his time to leave this earthly abode, he mustered a faint smile, his thoughts focused on his devotion and the knowledge he had gained. With his last breath, he uttered a single person's name: "Shashi."
Subhadrā continued her narration, gently caressing Parīkṣit's locks of hair. The brave emperor of the Kuru clan, Parīkṣit, was now a child in his mother's arms. Memories of his past would sometimes overwhelm him, and he would seek solace in Subhadrā's embrace.
"Stop!" the emperor roared, his voice heavy with sorrow. "Even the mighty Viṣṇurāta's eyes well up with tears at the mention of his mother and father."
Subhadrā looked at Parīkṣit with a caring expression. Her face showed signs of age, with grey locks draping her forehead, wrinkles marking her features, and slightly faded eye color. Tears brimmed in her eyes as she recollected the precious memories held by her son and daughter-in-law.
"Where did you place the scriptures, putrā?" Subhadrā asked Parīkṣit, her voice choked with tears.
Parīkṣit's ears perked up at the mention of the scriptures. He unwrapped the parchments and handed them to Subhadrā. "I will keep them safely in the basement, guarded by intricate pathways and an invisible protective shield. No one can escape the labyrinth of death without the remedy, and the blueprint contained in these scriptures will be shared with the people." Parīkṣit tightly clutched the scriptures, ensuring their safety. He continued, "Māṭa's personal diary will be kept in a restricted area, in case of any linguistic evolution or the fear of invaders. It shall be the ultimate remedy." He spoke, taking a deep breath.
Subhadrā looked at Parīkṣit with pride and opened her mouth to ask further questions.
The future Kaliyugā, as explained by bhrātaśri Kr̥ṣṇa, will anyone care to revisit these worn-out scriptures and bring them back into the light if an inevitable event occurs? Will anyone take the time to explore the prohibited areas?" Subhadra questioned Parīkṣit's decision.
Her heart was filled with countless questions. The glory of sacrifices could be preached, but future generations might be misled by added words that were not true. Parīkṣit sighed at the possibility but shrugged it off. He swiftly went to the basement, ensuring the scriptures' tight grip.
Leaning against the balcony pillar beneath the starry night sky, Parīkṣit flipped through the pages of the diary. His eyes caught a specific word, and he used his thumb as a barrier to focus on that page. With a smile, he read aloud, "Krishna paksha Panchami,%
His eyes scanned the words, and he smiled at the inscription. He couldn't resist delving into the sea of memories.
"Ameshwari (Mother)!" the seven-year-old Parīkṣit sighed, resting in his mother's lap after a rigorous training session.
Vatsala lovingly tapped his forehead in response to his dramatic call. Parīkṣit snuggled closer, paying no attention to her fake glasses. She gently caressed his hair, and Parīkṣit observed her, raising an inquisitive brow.
"What are you looking at, putra?" Vatsala asked her son.
"The pendant, I never noticed it before. There's something carved on it," Parīkṣit replied, attempting to read the sculpted golden letters but failing.
Vatsala smiled and explained, "It's the pendant your father had given me, vatsa." She clarified.
Parīkṣit's gaze shifted to a piece of parchment that had fallen onto the bed, with the words "world of darkness" imprinted on it. The poetic lines puzzled him, and he grabbed the piece of poetry, trying to decipher its meaning. His eyebrows furrowed in concentration.
"Maata, do the memories of Kurukshetra still haunt you?" Parīkṣit asked, his voice heavy with emotion.
Vatsala sighed, memories of that time flooding back. She pushed away the haunting mirages and replied, "I was on the verge of losing the vermillion, how can I forget?"
Tears streamed down Parīkṣit's plump cheeks as he recalled the profound memories associated with his mother.
"Yes, māṭa, you were right. It's a challenging task," he affirmed, as his mother's words from that day echoed in his ears. "This war brought destruction, you were right." He turned the pages backward, continuing his journey through the diary.
With a small grin, Parīkṣit muttered to himself, "Today I understand why the glories of Śaśirēkha Parinayam are sung throughout the empire."
The play depicted the emotional journey of Parīkṣit as he explored the memories his mother had left behind, cherishing the moments of joy, laughter, and love shared with his parents.
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GLOSSARY:
Māṭa: mother
Bhrātaśri: Brother
Cākravyūha: A maze like strategy formed by the army in ancient India.
Haran: Abduction
Paksha: Fortnight or a lunar phase in a month.
Krishna paksha: New moon day.
Panchami: 5th day of the fortnight (Paksha).
Viṣṇurāta: The other name of Parikshit meaning-- the one who's always protected by Lord Vishnu.
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