Tears Of Destiny

Indraprastha - 2

Bheem

The clang of metal against metal filled the training yard, each strike echoing the rhythm of Bhima's heart. Sweat beaded on his brow, but his eyes were ablaze, not with exertion, but with the simmering fire of an unspoken truth. He fought not just with the practice sword, but with the doubts that gnawed at the edges of his love for Draupadi.

Draupadi, his sunlit queen, his fiercest storm. To love her was to love a thousand suns at once, their warmth igniting a passion within him that roared like a forest fire. He saw it in the way her eyes sparkled when he wrestled playfully, in the way her laughter danced like wind chimes in the summer breeze, in the way her hand fit perfectly in his, a small ember nestled in a giant's grasp.

But Bhima, the gentle giant, carried his own burden. His love, as vast and unwavering as the earth itself, lacked the finesse of Arjuna's archery, the charm of Nakul's wit, the quiet wisdom of Sahadev. He saw the longing in Draupadi's eyes as she watched Arjuna's arrows pierce the sky, the playful banter she shared with Nakul, the silent understanding she held with Sahadev. Was his love, raw and unpolished, enough to hold a candle to theirs?

One day, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the courtyard, Bhima found Draupadi alone in the gardens, her eyes gazing at the starlit tapestry above. He sat beside her, the silence a heavy mantle between them. "What troubles you, Panchali ?" he asked, his voice rumbling like distant thunder.

Draupadi turned to him, a small smile playing on her lips. "Troubles? It is just the vastness of the sky, Bhima, the way it reminds me of the endless possibilities, the dreams waiting to be chased."

He understood. Draupadi was a spirit who yearned for the open roads, for battles fought and storms weathered. He saw it in the way she wielded her sword, in the fire that danced in her eyes whenever she spoke of justice and righteousness.

"And I," he whispered, his voice rough but earnest, "I wish to be the mountain you climb, the ground you stand on, the shield that protects your dreams."

She met his gaze, her eyes shimmering with unspoken emotions. "You already are, Arya," she said, her voice soft as moonlight. "Your love is the foundation of my being, the strength that gives me wings to fly."

A warmth bloomed in his chest, chasing away the doubts. Yes, his love might not be a poem whispered in the wind, but it was a fortress, unyielding and true. He would be her warrior, her protector, her confidante, a love etched in the earth itself, unwavering and immovable.

As they rose under the starlit sky, their hands clasped together, Bhima knew that his love, though different, was no less potent. He would love Draupadi not just with his words, but with his actions, with every heartbeat, with every fiber of his being. He would be the giant at her side, not just in physical stature, but in the unwavering strength of his love, a love that would stand the test of time, the whispers of doubt, and the storms of destiny itself.

Nakul

Nakul, adorned with  a mischievous glint in his eyes, twirled a peacock feather in the courtyard. Yet, the laughter that usually danced on his lips felt brittle tonight. Draupadi's eyes, usually vibrant as sapphires, mirrored the moonlit night, clouded with a sorrow he knew too well.

Arjun, Draupadi's beloved, was exiled. Twelve long years, an eternity stretched before them, an abyss gnawing at the edges of their shared happiness. And Nakul, the master of masks, couldn't hide his own churning emotions.

Draupadi, ever the queen, held her head high, but as they sat in the hushed privacy of her chambers, the dam holding back her tears finally broke. She wept, not just for her lost husband, but for a future fractured, dreams shattered like delicate glass.