A Different Path

Questions

"Uncle Ashu!"

Ashwathamma turned around to find Lakshman Kumar running after him. He halted immediately, waiting for the young man to catch up. Ashwatthama had left his room a few minutes after Karna had gone to visit Duryodhana in the latter's chambers. It was as Karna had said, they both had things to do.

"Uncle Ashu, where are you headed?" Duryodhana's son asked breathlessly when he finally reached him.

"To my father's place. Is there something you want, my child?" Ashwathama gently ran a hand through Lakshman's dark hair, smiling widely at him.

"Yes. I do."

Ashwathama frowned at him. "What is it?

"Answers."

Ashwathama took the prince by his arm and walked towards the nearest tree, a large banyan that had been there for close to a century. Sitting in its cool shade, Ashwathamma peered at his friend's son who looked far older and wiser for his age. Lakshman Kumar had always been an awkward boy, so thoroughly terrified of saying or doing something wrong that he barely ever opened up to anyone. It didn't help that he had no brothers and while Lakshmana had been there, she being a woman faced hurdles of her own which were vastly different from the ones he was supposed to conquer. He had been more open with Karna and him than he had been with anyone else, including his father. But then again their personalities were as different as night and day, so perhaps he shouldn't really be surprised at all.

"Speak my child."

"Where were you, Uncle? Or rather, why weren't you here?" Lakshman's voice had a slight edge to it, which Ashwatthama found rather alarming.

"You know why. I had to leave for Panchala. With the war over and the casualties......I had to look after the kingdom and ensure that things won't get worse."

"Is that it?"

Ashwathama narrowed his eyes at him and sat up a little straighter. "What do you mean?"

"I am not a child, uncle Ashu. For the past year, I have been working with the Prime Minister and other courtiers to ensure that Hastinapura doesn't fall deeper into the depths of poverty and depravity. I have been regularly corresponding with every section of our administration and I am well informed of the situation in Uttar Panchala." He swallowed then, his face pale, and hissed, "So let me ask you again, why weren't you here?"

"Lakshman-"

"Do you not care?" Lakshman's voice was raw with anguish, with bitterness and with accusation. Eyes blurring with unshed tears, he gazed at him with burning despair, waiting for an answer.

"Of course I do," Ashwathama replied, dismayed that Lakshman Kumar would even harbour such a thought in his mind. He stretched his hand to comfort the kid, but Lakshman moved away from him, his face grim and unrecognisable.

"No, you don't. No one does. Not my father, who has locked himself away from the world and refuses to let us help him. Not uncle Dushasana or my other uncles who are trapped by their own guilt and misery to think of anything else. Not uncle Vasu who disappeared without a goodbye, taking everything away with him. And not my Uncle Ashu, who left when he was needed here the most."