A Different Path

Return

"The arrangements have been made, My Lord. Prince Nakul has taken a look at the horses and I have personally inspected all the chariots and carriages."

Arjuna nodded at his army chief and asked him to retire for the night. Tomorrow they would be headed to Hastinapura, and he wanted to make sure that the journey would be smooth. Having personally supervised the delegates regarding various areas of concern, he was sure that their visit would go as planned without any difficulties. He wished Krishna had chosen to come with them, but their maternal cousin had cited some important work and apologized for his unavailability. It was strange since Arjuna couldn't fathom what could be more important than this. But Krishna had always been this way, and he figured that his best friend would turn up when the time was right.

Leaving the large chambers reserved for security considerations, he walked past his bedroom and onto the small courtyard that opened at his balcony door. Subhadra had personally decorated it with exotic flowers brought from foreign lands that seemed to glow strangely in the translucent beauty of the moon. This will remind you of me, she had said and indeed as the intoxicating fragrance of the nearby chrysanthemums filled his nostrils, his mind shifted to his favourite wife who never ceased to amaze him despite so many years of marriage. He wished she was here but Subhadra had gone to visit her brothers at Dwarka, taking with her their daughter-in-law Uttara and grandson Parikshit. Abhimanyu had opted to stay behind to help with organising tomorrow's journey and also to be present at Hastinapura for the discussion regarding the impending war threat.

His heart ached at the thought of his talented son who had changed considerably since the Kurukshetra War. The smiles that used to come so naturally, the face that always glowed with optimism and warmth, the eyes that sparkled like diamonds all had been lost to the madness of war and the abyss of despair. Now his son walked with a limp, his eyes cold and unfeeling, burning in a way he had only seen on men who had surrendered before him.

Defeated was the term he would use for his son and he didn't know how to bring that sweet boy back, the one who used to never leave his side when he visited Subhadra in Dwarka. Now, Abhimanyu seemed to avoid him completely, answering his questions with a cold, detached look assuring him with empty words that everything was fine. Except that it wasn't.

But he knew that it wasn't just Abhimanyu who had changed so drastically, indeed all his family and friends had transformed into people he didn't know and didn't like. No one was spared from the ravages of the war, whether they were on the winning or the losing side. Or maybe in the case of Mahabharata, there were no winners and losers after all.

As day dawned upon them he shrugged off his perturbation and accompanied his brothers to their chariot, commencing their long and arduous journey to Hastinapura. From the corner of his eyes he saw Abhimanyu riding ahead with the Army chief, on the alert for anything out of the ordinary. He could hear the soft chirping of the sparrows and the lipping and gurgling of the pellucid waters of the stream flowing nearby.

It felt so unreal, all the time that had passed since the battle had ended. It felt as if this was all but a carefully crafted dream of a master illusionist and any second he would wake up to the clangor of battle conches and the shrill clashing of swords. Kurukshetra, that barren land now soaked with sweat and blood, would await him and his Gandiva, to be aimed at men who he had once considered his family.