KRISHAVYAYAM

21. Heimat

HAVING BEEN INSTRUCTED BY THE PATIENT SAGE DHAUMYA, Drupada advanced to bow at the bridegroom’s feet and venerate it with milk and rose petals. He wiped the dark lotus feet of the almighty with a piece of cotton, a sort of knowing smile on his lips as he glanced at his daughter and bowed to the couple again.

‘Narayana Narayana!’ chimed the empyrean voice of the Brahmaputra, the greatest sage who roamed the realms of the trinity. ‘After Samudradeva, the honor of sakshat Shri Narayana’s vara pooja has been done by so many kings namely: Bhishmaka, Jambavan, Satrajita, Suryadeva, Jayasena, Nagnajita, Brihatsena, Dhrishtaketu and now, Yajnasena who has an army that is sacrificial. Pranaam, Prabhu. Pranaam, Mata.’

Kanha beamed, outshining a million suns. ‘Your mother will be back soon enough, Narada.’

‘Eagerly waiting for the same, my lord.’

A million meteorites crashed in his hazel irises, she watched in awe and his heart plummeted in his chest at the intensity of her love. She loved him enough to let him go. But she knew less that his journey wasn’t without her.

So be it, she had said, losing a battle he was bound to be victorious in. If you want me I shall be yours, I love you enough to not let a wound fester on myself. If you want me, I shall be the best of myself. For you, and for me, for the love we envisioned once. Your hand in mine, is a tale beyond the stars.

You are my heimat, he had declared on the eve when he was at his knees— to pray to the goddess with the planets spinning at the command of her fingers. You are my nook, Vahnijaa. Grant me the blessing of your presence, at every step of my life.

“Thus completes the vara pooja. Your Majesty, you must now place the princess’ right hand in Keshava’s, which shall signify the panigrahana samskara,” the clan priest of the Somakas said, chanting mantras to please the god of fire who leaned fondly towards his daughter. Kamalnayani’s smile widened and she ducked her head shyly, folding her hands at Agnideva as well as Devi Svaha. The fire burnt brighter, the all too familiar fyrgebraece warming the cold Margashirsha night.

Yajnasena did as told, and when the younger Yagyasaini’s hand touched that of the Yadava kumara’s, she willed her eternal warmth to comfort his colder one. The cool gales were frosting, Panchala’s winds certainly different from the moderate ones of Dvaraka. He must be uneasy, she wondered, her pulchritudinously restless eyes traversing sideways to rest at him, they should have given him a thicker robe.

‘I am all fine and dandy, my queen, thank you for checking up on me,’ Kanha murmured in his mind, mischievously grinning when he saw her eyes widening in surprise, agape at his shenanigans.

‘My pleasure. You . . . you just spoke in my mind?’

‘Yes, love.’

Kamalnayani squinted at him, ridiculously amused, ‘ . . . How? But then . . . you are you. Of course you can do that. I’m not that surprised.’ She rolled her eyes then, shrugging.

Kanha smirked, ‘I see you’ve gotten used to my antics, Mohini.’

‘Very well. Oh, and yes, you can have my shawl after the wedding. I have been checking up on you quite since the beginning but it’s not the place to interrogate of the same, I suppose. You want to get teased by Jiji and her husbands?’

‘No, please. And thank you for the shawl, I am cold.’

“The kanyadana is not the giving away of the daughter, but her gotra, to the fire god,” Dhaumya continued, watching the couple stare at each other for quite some time and he was mirthful no doubt. “She takes up her husband’s gotra. The system is important, as it ensures that no marriage between blood relatives happens and no troubled offspring are born in the future.”