52. Hiraeth.

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Do y'all remember the star wala dialogue at the last scene of chapter— "Yahvi."???

If not then do revisit it again *winks*

***

~ A THOUSAND YEARS ~
I've died everyday, waiting for you. 
Darling, don't be afraid, I've loved you for a thousand years.
I'll love you for a thousand more. 

Arjun looked down at the ripples in the gentle waters of Ganga. 

The night of New Moon, the night of cosmic separation of the stars from their beloved. The arduous longing for the night of brightness, O' of the night when the brilliance and luster of the rising moon fills the sky like the blush on a new bride's cheek, was the faint pulse of the scintillanting celestial bodies.  

The river, a gushing force, a shimmering reflector of the luscious moon's love too seemed to behold an pernickety yearning, avid for the return of her companion. 

The lotuses, blue in colour, stood out from the dark, glassy shallows. 

Arjun's lips curved, it was almost as if the nature too was lamenting for him. After all, such was his condition- restless nights, and days on tenterhooks. 

The animals of the night, too, seemed to sense the alarmed change in the surrounding. They quietly turned back into their safehomes, leaving the forlorn lovers to simmer in silent agony. 

The wind was eerily silent, inert and lifeless. Not a leaf on the plants twitched, fearing the slightest of sounds might unleash the Prince of Thunder. 

The sun-whitened sand on the bank had turned cold, the grains of it flew into different paths tacitly, neither they had the courage to summon his wrath. 

Arjun's sigh of exhaustion echoed deep into the tunnels of utter solitude. 

He was weary. 

Not his limb or body, that had spent the entire night slaying the merciless beasts who were nothing but a burden to the Earth. 

The monster inside him was finally silent. The sword in his hand spoke a thousand stories while hundreds of voices screamed through the blood dripping from it. The blade of the sword shined like the moon in the darkest sky, singing a tale of a dark revenge. 

Arjun finally let the sword drop to the ground. The metal fell vertically in the grains of sand with a soft clang before it dropped horizontally onto the ground. 

The voice was muted to his ears. 

But...

His heart...

O' Lord of Heaven! Was it even possible to lift such a weight on that fragile a heart?

He winced, as if the separation from the eternal quidity of his soul was physically hurting. Everything felt numb. 

There was no joy of victory; only grief of the loss. 

No joy of being the Emperor, the Supreme Lord of the vast Lands of Aryavrat; only the grief of not having his Empress. 

His love— the blossoming flower of a blue lotus, had paved a way through the parlous way of life. It was timeless, ageless and eternal. It was the ultimate core and crux of his being. 

Arjun lifted his feet from the sand, some of its grains stuck between his toes, but he gave little thought to it. As he approached the mushier part of the bank, barely a step away from entering into the water, he looked back.

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