Sojourn : mahabharata's era

CHAPTER 24 : Krishna

Subhadra's expression soured at the mention of his name, her smile fading away and her face taking on a pallor reminiscent of the winter moon. It appeared as though her heart was unable to comprehend my words, as indicated by her demeanor. Nevertheless, she endeavored to mask her true feelings by putting on a smile on her perfect face.

"Ashwattama--? The son of Maha Guru Drona, ive heard a lot about him too." She said hiding the feeling which was somewhere in her heart.

"Yes, Subhadre." I said As I bestowed upon her a gentle smile, my heart became icy with his contemplations, and a sensation of numbness overcame me. I fixed my gaze upon her as she approached me, her eyes filled with a glimmer of hope.

"But isnt he too old from arjun--?" She questioned.

"He is and i believe hes the finest archer among all of them, and he truely has the greatest potential to be the best archer across aryavarth." I couldn't help but smile, as it clearly displayed my immense pride for him and his accomplishments. Ashwattama possessed an extraordinary talent for archery, and he had the potential to become the absolute best. However, his father's constant comparison to Arjun hindered his progress. These thoughts occupied my mind, as a gentle afternoon breeze caressed my face, reminiscent of his tender touch. 

An electrifying sensation stirred in my stomach, as if I was inhaling the same air as him, and our hearts synchronized despite the distance between us. For the first time in years, he felt closer, sending my body into a frozen state while my heart raced. I reached up to brush away the strands of hair falling over my face, but a gentle breeze swept them away before I could, giving me the sensation that he was the one doing it, as if he had control over the wind that day.
                                                                                              .   .   . 

In the ashram, bathed in the warm October sunlight, the leaves gently descended from the trees as winter drew near. The dry and barren ground was now adorned with a vibrant carpet of yellow foliage. Amidst this picturesque scene, Ashwattama stood, his complexion pale and his body motionless, as if engaged in a silent conversation with the surrounding air. His jet-black hair cascaded over his strong shoulders, swaying with the caress of the hot breeze. His heart pounded like the rhythmic beats of a drum, as if yearning for something or someone. In that moment, he felt as though he had been transported to another realm, his thoughts wandering on the outskirts of Mathura.

He raised his trembling hands as if caressing someone, perhaps Nihira. His fingers danced in the empty air as he closed his eyes to sense her presence, a faint smile gracing his lips. Only his heart truly understood the depth of his longing for her and her infectious laughter. He pictured her joyful face, her dark brown eyes sparkling when they met his own.

To him, her eyes were like the moist soil after the first monsoon rain. He felt her beside him, envisioning her in a grand room by the window, her unruly hair falling in her face. It was as though he could reach out and adjust it. His hand moved through the vacant space, and a gust of wind suddenly swept in, pushing her hair back over her enchanting features. Silently, he once again brushed the strands away.

This monsoon proved to be a remarkable experience for him, as his parched heart encountered the rain that Nihira had brought along. It truly illuminated his existence, or perhaps even provided him with a newfound purpose in life. He had never realized that he too possessed a heart capable of beating not only for himself, but for her as well.

Her presence ignited a frenzy within him, causing his entire being to spiral into chaos. Now, in her absence, he was completely lost and helpless.

His nights were restless and his days seemed to pass quickly, filled with the desire to see her, to talk to her. He wanted to confess how cold-hearted he had been when they first met, and how she had changed him. However, what he had done to her was something he could never accept. Yes, he had not spoken to her in her last days at the ashram, but that certainly did not mean he did not feel the pain in his heart. Every single cell in his body had felt the urge to just go and talk to her, to hold her soft hands in his and apologize.