•|| Arjun ~ Rise To Power ||• (III)

𝙲𝙷𝙰𝙿𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝟷𝟷

Battlefield of Paanchaal

Three days.

Three uneasy days swept through within a blink of an eye, and no side appeared to win or lose. Both sides were faces equal losses, but there was nothing that could stop the sides from giving up; the Paanchaals began to fight with more vigor, eager to defeat us to show our worth, the army from Hastinapur wanted to ground right into their minds what being the mightiest of the Kurus mean to them. 

There was glory. 

And there was death and destruction. 

It appeared like a vast ocean, swim through it to survive or drown in it to acquire martyrdom; there was no other way out.  It happened like the layers, in fact like the waves of oceans. First there were the slow waves, the soft soothing ones; just like how survived warriors greet each other gleefully, talk about their feats in the battlefield. Then comes eventually the roaring waves, the deadly ones that threaten to sweep anyone that dares to come closer; and the worst part was, this ocean of war doesn't listen to anyone.

Just how the ocean ravishes unabashedly, same is what a war does....it doesn't follow anyone's command nor will ever do. 

And just like how an ocean sweeps away destroying everything and leaves it destruction for days, the destruction caused by war continues for days. 

Grief, trauma and loss...

The burning pyres had their flames ablaze, the smoke rising up as it devoured the carcasses; the thin flimsy white angavastra around my neck only whispered silently with the winds as I gazed on at the thousands of bodies turning into ashes. 

There are no enemies after death; because after death nothing matters. With whom we had war or for whom we fought for. 

The men and women from Paanchaal had came from their villages in order to pay homage to the ones killed; for no one could clearly know the warriors were from which sides specifically after their demise. We made way for them, for them to witness their loved ones-

For one last time.

If they found them, they rushed towards the pyres; while others silently praying unable to find which pyre had their own. Just standing at a distance with tears stained eyes and folded palms. 

And I did not know which one was more heart breaking. 

"Did you also lose someone you love?" I was snapped out of my trance, as I noticed a child standing beside me, glancing at me intently. There were stains of tears on his cheeks, his curious yet weary irises raking around me. 

My lips forcefully stretched into a smile as I shook my head. "And you....?"

"Father." He stared at the pyres for a brief moment, and glanced at me with his lips pressed into a thin line. I shut my eyes firmly, trying to adhere myself together.

"But my brother told me not to feel sad." My gaze snapped at the little boy, who gazed at his father's pyre.

"Is it?" I rested a palm on his shoulder. 

"Hmm." He nodded, "He says that he has achieved martyrdom. There is nothing to cry, instead I should be proud about it. So I stopped crying after listening to him-" He uttered with an innocence that made me flip my heart for a while. 

"And?" 

"And he told me to follow his steps." My lips curved into a half smile at his words, "And...?"

"Then I asked her whether he would miss him or not." He blinked softly, and somehow I was anticipating his answer, "And what did your brother tell you?"