𝑰𝒏𝒅𝒖𝒍𝒆𝒌𝒉𝒂, a young cheerful girl from Kaliyug, is reborn as the sister of the Pandavas after she dies. She was the apple of their eyes, their soul, their peace.
She was Yudishthir's mind.
She was Bheem's strength.
She was Arjun's eyes.
She...
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Day 4
Night
Main camp
Kurukshetra
Indulekha POV
A punishment so deadly it could kill those who dare defy it. A punishment brought by loved ones and executed by will. One which could leave them shuddering and crying. With all morale gone. Kick them down with so much strength, they can't fathom standing back up.
The consequence of ignorance.
No. The consequence of my ignorance.
What had they planned for me? I had fallen into their traps, naive and dumb. My brothers stared at me with fear for what I might have to bear, again. My alta-stained hands were trembling, the adrenaline out and my cut stinging more and more. Bro Nakul had tied my arm back with bandages and cleaned the blood after giving me a scolding on how it wasn't going to heal if I kept harming it. I had tried to heal it with the glow of my hands, but with no control over it, I couldn't. My eyes were droopy after the day of war. My body was sore and I'm sure my legs weren't with me anymore. Am I floating?
I stumbled into the tent, giving up and falling onto the seat. All of my brothers followed behind, a glum expression on their face and their hands gripping their weapons in anger. Bhrata Sahadev sat on my right, massaging my palm which had surely strained itself. Jyeshtabhrata Karn sat on my left, comforting me.
Duryodhan, who had recently gained consciousness, and GandharRaj Shakuni, along with the rest of the Kauravas entered after us, being the last ones to arrive. Dusshsan gave me a frown as he sat down, wincing as he saw my stabbed arm. The Panchal family, Mahraj Drupad, Dhrishtadyumna and Shikhandi, sat a few seats behind us. The seating formations created a circle, expanding as the seats increased behind. There were only three rows of the circle, but enough for everyone. Shakuni stood in the middle, his eyes glinting with pride.
Kanha sat directly behind Bhrata Sahadev, giving me a 'you-messed-up-again-bruh' look when I turned around.
Only two of my bhabhis were present here, Bhabhi-shree Devika and Bhabhi-shree Valandhara. The latter sat right behind me and whispered affirmations in my ear, telling me that my arm was going to be better. Though the act was sweet, why was everyone acting like I had been stabbed through the heart? Bhabhi-shree had more scars and stabs on herself, Devi Shikhandi had been slashed on her abdomen, and Bhrata Bheem had wounds every day. Then why was I being treated like some fragile object? Of course, concern is alright. But pity isn't.
Is it because I was the little princess of Hastinapur, along with Dushala of course, is it? Is it because I had only recently learned about warfare? Or because they still didn't believe that despite having grown up in the forest, surviving a fire, spending my youth in disguise, being the one holding my brothers together and dealing with the sabha, living in the forest, again, and having survived the first few days of the war, I still just wasn't strong enough?
