As the evening sun cast a warm glow near the royal palace gates, the atmosphere was tranquil. Soldiers, clad in regal armor, stood with unwavering dedication, their presence adding an air of security. Meanwhile, a handful of maids, dressed in elegant attire, awaited with grace, ready to extend a warm welcome to an esteemed guest. The anticipation hung in the air, blending the quietude with a sense of expectancy.

With weary determination, Arjun guided his fatigued horse to a stop in front of the grand Dwarika palace gates. The sentinels observed his arrival with keen eyes, their armor reflecting the last rays of the evening sun. At the threshold, Krishna, adorned in regal attire, greeted Arjun with a welcoming smile, the peaceful mood of the scene embracing the reunion of these two figures bound by destiny.

In a moment of genuine camaraderie, Krishna embraced Arjun warmly, the weight of their shared history evident in the simple yet profound gesture. Maids adorned in vibrant attire gracefully showered fragrant flowers, creating a vivid cascade of colors around them. Simultaneously, soldiers saluted in unison, a symbolic acknowledgment of the bond that transcended their roles. The peaceful evening witnessed a convergence of respect, friendship, and the subtle grandeur of the royal surroundings.

As Arjun reluctantly broke the warm embrace, his eyes scanned the surroundings in search of his elder cousin Balram. The absence of Balram's familiar presence left an unusual void, stirring a sense of curiosity within Arjun.

for Balram had always been there to welcome their family to Dwarika. This time, however, he was conspicuously absent.

To shift Arjun's focus, Krishna asked about his journey.

Krishna :- Arjun, how was your journey ?

Arjun, still scanning the surroundings, replied with a warm smile.

Arjun :- It was fine, Madhav. But I can't help but notice Dau Balram's absence. Is everything well ?

Krishna, with a reassuring grin, answered.

Krishna :- Oh, bhrata is occupied with some urgent matters. He sends his regards. But come, you must be tired. Let's talk inside.

With that, Krishna guided Arjun into the palace, leaving behind the soldiers saluting and the maids scattering flowers-a quiet acknowledgment of the intricate ties that bound them all.

After a refreshing cleanup, Arjun wiped his face and hands with a towel, feeling rejuvenated. As he settled into a plush sofa, its soft cushions adjusting to cradle his form, he couldn't help but exhale a sigh of relief. The peaceful ambiance of the royal palace enveloped him, providing a welcomed respite from the weariness of his journey.

As the door gently echoed with a knock, Subhadra gracefully entered the chamber, bearing a tray of refreshments. Placing it on the table beside the sofa, her eyes met Arjun's in a fleeting yet significant moment. Sensing her intent to leave, Arjun stopped her, a question lingering in his eyes.

Arjun :- Subi, a moment, please. I couldn't help but notice a certain unease in the air. Why does it feel like everyone is behaving strangely ? Even your father, Vasudev, passed me in the corridor without a word, as if I were invisible.

Subhadra, her expression slightly conflicted, answered.

Subhadra :- Arjun, there are matters that have cast a shadow over Dwarika. And it concerns your brother. I can't tell you now, bhrata Krishna hasn't allowed, we'll meet at the garden at night, I'll explain you everything.

Arjun, still puzzled, nodded as Subhadra left the room, leaving behind a sense of intrigue in the air. The peaceful evening hinted at deeper currents beneath the surface of royal interactions.



The sun had set behind the hills, leaving a faint glow in the sky. The village was quiet, except for the occasional sound of a dog barking or a cow mooing. In a secluded corner of the village, there was a courtyard surrounded by tall trees. The trees cast long shadows on the ground, creating a sense of mystery and solitude. The courtyard belonged to an old house that had been abandoned for years. A subtle air of mystery lingers as the village prepares to embrace the tranquility of the approaching night.

Amrit sat on an old wooden bench that creaked under his weight. He held his new divine bow in his hands, feeling its smooth surface and sturdy grip. It was made of a rare metal that shone like gold in the dark. When Amrit touched it, the bow emitted a soft glow that warmed his fingers and filled his heart with courage. He polished it with a cloth, admiring its beauty and power.

As he admired the bow's celestial craftsmanship, his keen senses picked up the subtle sounds of approaching footsteps, breaking the stillness of the night. Recognizing the familiar scent, Amrit looks up to see his friend Malini emerging from the shadows, her presence blending seamlessly with the quietude of the courtyard. He wondered what she wanted from him at this late hour.

She wore a red sari that contrasted with her fair skin and dark hair. The sari was embroidered with gold and silver threads, and adorned with small bells that jingled softly with every step. She had a matching pair of gold earrings that dangled from her ears. Her clothing hinted at the vibrancy of a recent wedding ceremony, leaving Amrit to wonder whether she has rushed straight from the festivities to seek him out. The thought crossed his mind that perhaps Radha Ma had sent her to call for him.

He couldn't take his eyes off her. He wondered if she felt the same way, or if she was oblivious to his feelings.

He had always been a loner, a wanderer, a fighter. He had never been close to anyone, except for Radha Ma and a few others. He had never felt the need for companionship, or love, or romance. He had always been content with his life and his mission. But ever since he met Malini, everything had changed. She had become his friend, She had shown him kindness, had made him smile.

In that fleeting moment, Amrit grapples with the realization of how profoundly Malini's presence affects him. The rarity of his interactions with others amplifies the impact, and a question lingers in his mind-could it be that he harbors feelings for her ?

He snapped out of his trance and forced himself to look away from her. He pretended to be interested in his bow, examining its edges and curves. He hoped she didn't notice his flushed cheeks and his trembling hands. He wished he could control his emotions better, but he was no match for her spell.

He felt her eyes on him, glanced at her and saw her smiling softly. He felt a surge of irritation and embarrassment,

Amrit :- Why are you staring at me ?

He said, trying to keep his voice steady.

She laughed lightly.

Malini :- You look so cute when you try to hide something.

She said, her voice low and sweet.

Malini :- It's written all over your face, you know. You have something on your mind. What is it? Do you want to tell me, or do you want to keep it to yourself ?

She asked, her lips curving into a playful smile.

He groaned, feeling annoyed and frustrated. He wished she would stop teasing him and leave him alone. He hated that she could read him so easily, and that he couldn't hide his feelings from her.

Amrit :- I'm not hiding anything.

She smiled, knowing he was lying. She could tell by his tone and his body language that he had something on his mind. Something that involved her, perhaps.

Malini :- Relax, I won't press you to tell me everything.

She then took a seat beside him on the bench, making him sigh. He felt a jolt of electricity as she touched his arm, and a wave of warmth as she leaned against his shoulder.

He didn't know what to do, or what to say.

She touched the bow with her delicate fingers, feeling its design. She traced the patterns and symbols that were engraved on the metal, wondering what they meant. She admired the craftsmanship and the elegance of the bow, and how it matched with Amrit's personality and appearance.

Malini :- The bow suits you.

She said, her voice sincere and gentle.

Malini :- It looks as if it was made for you.

Amrit just hummed in response, releasing a long slow breath he didn't realize he was holding. He felt a surge of gratitude and pride, hearing her praise. He knew she was right, he felt a connection with the bow. He felt a bond that was stronger than anything he had ever felt before.

She was curious about its origin and history, and how it came into his possession. She wondered what kind of power and magic it possessed, and what kind of deeds it had done.

Malini :- What is the name of this bow ?

She asked, her voice full of awe and wonder. She was curious about its origin and history, and how it came into his possession. She wondered what kind of power and magic it possessed, and what kind of deeds it had done.

Amrit :- This bow was crafted by lord Vishwakarma, for the Asur king Ravan.

He said, his voice proud and respectful.

Amrit :- The name of this bow is Girisha, which signifies the lord of the mountains. It was forged from the metal from the Himalayas, and it can shoot arrows that can pierce through anything.

She tilted her head to glance at his face for a moment. He looked happy with his new weapon, as if he had found a treasure or a friend. She smiled, glad to see him smile.

She wondered what made him so aloof and distant, and what he was afraid of. She wondered if he ever felt lonely, or sad, or bored

Malini :- Why do you always try to stay away from people ?

She asked, her voice gentle and concerned.

Malini :- Doesn't being alone all the time bother you ?

Amrit :- I'm used to it.

He said, his voice cold and harsh.

Amrit :- I prefer staying alone than being surrounded by the type of people present in our kingdom.

He hated the corruption that plagued their kingdom, and he despised the people who supported or tolerated it.

Malini :- People are more afraid of you than jealous or other things.

She said, her voice sad and sympathetic. She had noticed how people avoided him, or stared at him, or whispered about him. She had seen how people trembled in his presence, or cowered in his absence, or fled from his sight. She knew he was feared, and hated, and envied. But, she also knew he was different, and special.

Amrit :- I don't mind if being afraid reminds them of their places.

He said, his voice bitter and defiant. He had learned to live with the hate, and the envy. He knew he was feared, and hated, and envied.

Malini :- You have to change this point of view of yours.

She said, her voice earnest and passionate.

Malini :- You can't let your bad image go down in the history. You deserve better than that.

She was worried about his reputation and his legacy, and how they would affect his future and his happiness. She wanted him to be respected and admired, not feared and hated, to be remembered as a hero, not a villain. She wanted him to be proud of himself, not ashamed of himself.

Amrit :- Why do you care so much about my image ?

He asked, his voice cold and sarcastic.

Amrit :- What difference does it make if people think of me as someone to not talk to ? I don't need them, or their opinions.

He was indifferent and defiant, and had no concern for his reputation and his legacy. He didn't care what people thought of him. He didn't care if he was remembered as a hero, or a villain.

Malini :- It does matter.

She said, her voice firm and rational.

Malini :- Perspectives of people form in moments, but it takes years for them to change. Your image has an impact on your life and your choices. It can influence your opportunities and your challenges. It can shape your goals and your dreams. Your image can make you happy or unhappy. It can make you fulfilled or empty.

She stopped for a moment, gauging his facial expressions, before continuing,

Malini :- I care about your image because I've known you from your childhood, and I know you're not entirely like you portray yourself in front of people.

She said, her voice soft and tender.

Malini :- I've seen your good side and your bad side. I've witnessed your struggles felt your pain and your joy, and I share them with you.

He remained quiet for a moment, staring at her face. He saw the genuine concern in her eyes, and the sincere affection in her smile. He realized that she was right.

Amrit :- What should I do then ?

He asked, his voice soft and humble.

Malini :- You should start with little things.

She said, her voice warm and supportive.

Malini :- You can make a difference with small steps and simple actions. Can be more friendly and more helpful.

She encouraged that he could be more positive and optimistic, and that he could hope and dream with people. That he could start with little things, and would see big changes.

She then brought up the topic of why she was there in the first place, changing the mood and the subject.

Malini :- Speaking of which, I should tell you why I'm here in the first place. It's a surprise, and I won't tell you more until we get there.

She said, her voice cheerful and playful.

Saying so, she began to drag him along with her, holding his hand and pulling him gently. He felt a jolt of surprise and anticipation. He wondered what the surprise was, and why it was important for him to be there. He wondered what she had planned for him, if he should resist, or go along.

Amrit :- Where are you taking me ?

He asked, his voice low and cautious. Wondered if it was something good, or bad, or both.

Malini :- Don't think anything, just come along with me.

She said, her voice high and cheerful. She had a surprise for him, and she couldn't wait to see his reaction.

He simply sighed and let her lead the way to wherever she was going, feeling resigned and hopeful. He decided to trust her, and to follow her.

He sighed and let her lead the way to wherever she was going.



Under the watchful gaze of the moon, Arjun ventured into the royal palace garden, guided by an unspoken understanding. Subhadra, her face mirroring tension and worry, stood there awaiting his arrival. As Arjun approached, her demeanor tensed, revealing the weight of the undisclosed matters lingering in the air.

Perplexed by the mysterious tension surrounding him, Arjun voiced his confusion, questioning Subhadra about the unusual behavior of everyone.

Arjun :- Subhadra, why does everyone act as if I'm an outsider ? And why do you seem so tense ? I won't bite, you know.

He said his tone laced with concern. With a deep breath, Subhadra attempted to unravel the enigma.

Subhadra :- Arjun, the atmosphere has been tense here lately. Walk with me, and I'll share what burdens our hearts.

As they strolled through the palace garden, Arjun sought to understand how the tense atmosphere in Dwarika was connected to his elder brother.



Subhadra sighed, choosing her words with care, and softly revealed the reason behind the prevailing tension.

Subhadra :- Jiji Jhanvi, my elder sister, is pregnant.

Arjun, halting in his tracks, absorbed the unexpected revelation. The moon above cast a subtle glow, highlighting the gravity of the news that hung in the air.

Stumbling with his words, he asked.

Arjun :- Is... is the father my elder brother.

He wanted to ask a question but it sounded more like a statement.

Subhadra, with a nod, softly affirmed. A heavy silence ensued as they stood facing each other in the moonlit garden. Arjun's eyes searched for words, his mind grappling with the unexpected revelation.

Finally breaking the silence, he spoke,

Arjun :- I... I had no idea. How is your brother taking this ?

Subhadra, her voice reflecting a mix of emotions, answered.

Subhadra :- He is torn between duty and emotions. The palace is navigating delicate waters.

His expression reflecting concern as he considered the situation.

Arjun :- I need to talk to him. This changes everything.

Understanding the gravity of the situation, she warned him,

Subhadra :- Not now Arjun, he might be resting in his chamber, moreover, he gets irritated when someone disturbs him at night and with you going in front of him.... no, talk to him tommorow morning, when his mood would be somewhat better.

Arjun, absorbing the weight of the revelation, nodded in acknowledgment of Subhadra's advice. Shaking his head to dispel the swirling thoughts, he felt a weariness settling in that surpassed the fatigue of the entire day.

Arjun :- I... I think I need some rest too.

With that, Arjun excused himself, his footsteps carrying the weight of contemplation. Subhadra remained behind, her eyes following his retreating form, a silent acknowledgment of the complexities that had unraveled in the palace. The moonlit garden held the echoes of unspoken concerns, each step deepening the complexity of the emotions entwined within the royal corridors.



Amrit walked in silence as Malini led him to a marriage function where all the guests had gathered. He felt confused and curious, wondering what she was up to. He had no idea that there was a wedding happening in the village, and he didn't know who was getting married. He wondered if it was someone he knew.

He felt the eyes of the people on him, as they stared at him and Malini. He saw the surprise and the curiosity, and the gossip and the judgment. He heard the whispers and the murmurs, and the comments and the questions. He sensed the fear and the hate, and the envy. He ignored them all, and focused on her. He hoped she knew what she was doing, and why she was doing it.

She took him to the place where the bride and the groom were seated in front of the sacred fire. He saw the priest chanting the mantras. He saw the flowers and the garlands, and the sweets and the gifts. He saw the joy and the happiness, and the love and the blessing. He looked at the bride and the groom.

The priest who was there to get the rituals done glanced up at Amrit and Malini who stood there. He saw the confusion and the hesitation on their faces, and he wondered what they wanted. He asked them politely if they were related to the bride or the groom, and if they had come to bless them. He hoped they were not troublemakers, and that they had not come to ruin the wedding.

Malini :- The bride is my friend Sunitha, and the groom is her childhood friend Lokesh.

She whispered, her voice urgent and pleading.

Malini :- They love each other and want to get married, but Sunitha's parents are not here. Her brother was supposed to come and complete the rituals, but he is not here either. We need someone to be the bride's brother, and to give her away to the groom. Will you be the bride's brother and complete the rituals? It's a favor, and a matter of life and death, and of love and happiness.

Amrit glanced at the bride Sunitha, who looked back at him with pleading eyes. He saw the fear and the hope. He felt a surge of sympathy and compassion, realizing that she was in a difficult situation, and that she needed his help. He realized that she was his friend's friend, and that he owed her his respect. He realized that he couldn't say no to her.

He nodded his head subtly, agreeing to be the bride's brother and complete the rituals. He said that he would do it, and that he hoped it would make them happy.

Amrit :- I'll do it.

Malini :- He will be the bride's brother and complete the rituals. Thank you for your kindness and generosity. Please continue with the rituals. We are ready, and we want to get married as soon as possible. We are happy, and we want to share our happiness with everyone.

The priest handed some rice to Amrit and told him to place his hand on Lokesh's head. Amrit did as told and the rituals began. He felt a sense of duty and honor. He knew he was doing the right thing, and the hard thing.

Malini smiled as she saw the peace on Amrit's face when he made Sunitha and Lokesh happy. She felt a surge of pride and gratitude.

When the priest placed some flowers on Sunitha's hand, a strange feeling of a bad omen entered his mind and Amrit's face flashed in front of his eyes. He felt a shiver of fear and doubt, and a whisper of warning and prophecy. He wondered if he was making a mistake, and if he was inviting a disaster. He wondered if he was blessing them, or cursing them.

He took a look at Amrit, who had a genuine smile on his face as he blessed Sunitha and Lokesh. He saw the nobility and the grace. He felt a nod of approval and appreciation. He decided to ignore the feeling of a bad omen, and to trust Amrit's judgment and character. He decided to continue with the mantras, and to complete the ceremony.

The marriage ceremony was soon concluded and the elders blessed Sunitha and Lokesh while the guests applauded as they garlanded each other. They looked at each other with joy and love, and they thanked everyone for their support and blessing. They hugged their friends and family, and they expressed their gratitude and happiness. They were finally married, and they were ready to start their new life together.

Sunitha joined her hands in front of Amrit and thanked him.

Sunitha :- You are like a brother to me, and you have done a great favor to me. You have made my dream come true, and you have given me the best gift ever. I will never forget you, and I will always pray for you.

He just shook his head and blessed her.

Amrit :- I'm happy for you, and I wish you a happy life. I'm proud of you, and I hope you will be happy.



The palace of Hastinapur, shrouded in darkness, held its secrets close. Within its ancient walls, the indoor training hall stood as a sanctuary for warriors-a place where steel met flesh, and skill was honed to perfection. Tonight, rain fell relentlessly, tapping against the tall windows like impatient fingers. Dull torchlight flickered, casting elongated shadows on the stone floor. The air smelled of damp earth and anticipation.

The guards stationed at the entrance remained vigilant, their figures silhouetted against the faint glow of torches lining the walls. The sound of their heavy footsteps echoed faintly in the corridor, blending with the rhythm of the rainfall. The air was thick with anticipation, as if holding its breath, mirroring the unspoken tension that hung between the two figures within the training hall.

The rain's rhythm had seeped into Bhism's bones, and he moved through the dimly lit corridor like a ghost of battles past. His footsteps, softened by age, echoed against the stone walls. The guards, vigilant even in the darkest hours, dipped their heads in deference as he passed.

The muffled clank of metal drew him toward the training hall-a place where warriors shed their titles and bared their souls. Bhism's curiosity stirred. Who would wield a mace at this ungodly hour? He pushed open the heavy doors, and the scent of sweat and determination enveloped him.

Pushing aside the curtains that veiled the entrance to the training hall, Bhism stepped inside, his keen eyes immediately locking onto the shadowy figure in the corner.

The torches flickered, casting elongated shadows on the cold floor. There, amidst the dampness and the echoes of rain, stood Duryodhan. His silhouette was a study in defiance-muscles taut, eyes aflame with purpose. The mace, an extension of his will, swung in arcs that defied the storm outside.

The old warrior's heart swelled with pride and concern. What drove his grandson to such lengths?

Duryodhan's rage echoed through the cavernous training hall. As Duryodhan's mace struck the metal statue with forceful determination, each blow fueled by a potent mixture of frustration and ambition, he grappled with his inner turmoil. Why was it always Bheem, the mighty Pandav, who garnered praise as the foremost mace warrior? Why not him, Duryodhan, the heir to the throne of Hastinapur? His muscles tensed with resolve, his breath ragged with exertion as he paused to reassess his approach.

His breaths came in ragged bursts, and sweat mingled with rain on his brow. The statue bore the brunt of his frustration, its surface dented and scarred. But strength alone was not enough. Duryodhan knew it now, as the adrenaline subsided and clarity settled like dew on a battlefield.

Superior skills-that was the key. Bheem's brawn was matched only by his technique, his mastery of the mace. His ambition burned hotter than the torches lining the hall. He wanted to surpass Bheem, to carve his name as the greatest mace fighter.

In the hushed aftermath of his onslaught, a soft echo reverberated through the training hall, drawing Duryodhan's attention. Turning, he found himself face to face with the imposing figure of Bhism, his grandsire, standing with a mace in hand. The flickering torchlight danced across Bhism's weathered features, casting deep shadows in the lines of his face as he regarded Duryodhan with a mixture of solemnity and understanding.

With a subtle gesture, Bhism raised his own mace, a silent invitation for Duryodhan to join him in combat. A faint smile tugged at the corners of Bhism's lips, a silent acknowledgement of the fiery determination that burned within his grandson.

Duryodhan, breathless from the exchange, finally found his voice.

Duryodhan :- Pitamah, what brings you here at this hour ?

He inquired, wiping sweat from his brow as he steadied himself.

Bhism's expression remained composed as he replied,

Bhism :- I happened to be passing by and heard the echoes of your frustration. I thought I would see who it was that sought solace in the training hall at such a late hour.

Duryodhan nodded, his gaze returning to his mace.

Duryodhan :- I have been neglecting my practice lately.

He confessed, his voice tinged with self-reflection.

Duryodhan :- I needed to clear my mind and regain focus.

Without warning, Bhism launched a swift attack, his mace whistling through the air toward Duryodhan. Reacting on instinct, Duryodhan blocked the blow with practiced precision.

Bhism :- You move well. That block-it carries your teacher's imprint.

He remarked, his tone contemplative.

Bhism :- But there must be more to your presence here than merely catching up on practice.

Furrowing his brow in confusion, Duryodhan met Bhism's gaze.

Duryodhan :- What do you mean, Pitamah.

He asked, a hint of uncertainty creeping into his voice. The rain's cadence persisted, a relentless companion to their duel. Bhism's mace swept through the air, its arc precise, Duryodhan's instincts flared, blocking each strike with the grace of a seasoned warrior.

But Bhism was not just a sparring partner; he was an observer-a sage who read the currents of the soul. He had seen Duryodhan's aloofness, the shadows that clung to his eyes like unspoken secrets. And now, as their maces clashed, he sought answers. He had observed Duryodhan since his return from the trip he took with his uncle Shakuni. His change in demeanor, lack of concentration in work and spending time alone.

Bhism :- Why this late-night practice ? Why this sudden urgency ?

Duryodhan's breaths were labored, He raised his mace, muscles trembling.

Duryodhan :- Nothing's wrong. I just need a break.

Bhism's attack came-a whirlwind of steel. Duryodhan blocked it, the impact jarring his bones.

Bhism :- A break from what ?

He pressed.

Duryodhan :- From princely duties. I want to be more than a prince. I want to be the foremost mace fighter in Aryavarth.

Bhism listened intently as Duryodhan spoke, his brow furrowing in concern at the revelation of his grandson's inner turmoil. The flickering torchlight cast shadows across the training hall, adding an air of solemnity to their conversation.

Bhism :- So, it is not merely a matter of catching up on practice.

He observed, his voice tinged with understanding.

Bhism :- You seek a respite from the burdens that weigh upon your shoulders.

Duryodhan nodded, his grip tightening around his mace as he met Bhism's gaze.

Duryodhan :- Exactly. I want to hone my skills, to prove myself on the battlefield. I want to be the foremost among the best mace fighters in Aryavarth.

Bhism's gaze followed Duryodhan as he walked towards the pillar, his heart heavy with the weight of his grandson's struggles. With a resigned sigh, he joined Duryodhan by the window, the rhythmic patter of raindrops providing a backdrop to their conversation.

Bhism :- You are a skilled warrior, Duryodhan.

He remarked, his voice tinged with admiration.

Bhism :- Few possess your strength and determination.

Duryodhan's scoff echoed softly in the dimly lit hall as he leaned against the pillar, his gaze fixed on the rain-soaked landscape beyond the window.

Duryodhan :- Strength alone is not enough.

He murmured, his voice heavy with frustration.

Duryodhan :- I lack the brute force of Bheem, the lightning reflexes of Arjun. I am constantly measured against them, always found wanting.

Bhism placed a comforting hand on Duryodhan's shoulder, his touch a silent gesture of support.

Bhism :- Do you doubt the teachings of your teacher ?

He inquired, his voice gentle yet probing.

Duryodhan shook his head, a flicker of determination lighting his eyes.

Duryodhan :- Never.

He replied, his voice firm.

Duryodhan :- But so has he taught to all my brothers and cousins. What good are teachings if they merely level the playing field? I seek to rise above, to stand shoulder to shoulder with my rivals, not merely keep pace with them.

Bhism's heart ached for his grandson, the weight of his burden palpable in the air between them.

Bhism :- You're making the same mistake again.

His words hung heavy in the air, casting a solemn shadow over the conversation. Duryodhan's brow furrowed in thought as he considered his grandfather's counsel, the weight of his words settling deep within his heart.

Duryodhan :- What mistake do you speak of, Pitamah ?

He questioned, his voice tinged with a hint of defensiveness. Bhism met his grandson's gaze with unwavering sincerity.

Bhism :- The mistake of seeking validation from others, of measuring your worth against their standards.

Hee explained, his voice gentle yet firm.

Bhism :- To seek greatness is noble, but not when it stems from insecurity. True greatness comes from within, from being content with who you are and what you have been blessed with.

Bhism's mace leaned against the pillar, its polished surface reflecting their shared history.

Bhism :- Contentment, is a rare gem. You are the future king of Hastinapur-a kingdom that echoes with power and prestige. Remember your blessings.

Duryodhan's jaw clenched in frustration as he wrestled with Bhism's words, the truth of them striking a chord within him.

Duryodhan :- I feel adrift, lost in the crowd.

He admitted, his voice tinged with vulnerability. Bhism's smile was a crescent moon.

Bhism :- Purpose, is the compass of the soul. Without it, even kings wander.

Duryodhan sighed acknowledging his grandfather's words.

Bhism :- And in your case, it happened when you let Bhanumati leave, without even trying to stop her.

Duryodhan wanted to leave, not wanting to talk about this topic but Bhism put his hand on Duryodhan's shoulder, stopping him.

Bhism :- Simply leaving won't do anything, whether you like it or not but Bhanumati had become a member of our family, infact she was an important part of it.

His words resonated deep within Duryodhan's soul, stirring a sense of responsibility that he could no longer ignore. With a heavy heart, he nodded in silent agreement, his gaze fixed on the rain-streaked window.

Bhism :- Maybe you hadn't married her in the best of circumstances but now you look changed without her.

Duryodhan's chest tightened. Bhanumati-the woman who had left, angered by his pride. He had let her go, thinking it was for the best. But now, in the quiet of the training hall, he wondered.

Bhism :- Go. Speak to her. Let your heart find its purpose. And if possible, convince her to come back. Our family looks incomplete without her.

He advised. Duryodhan turned away from the window, raindrops clinging to his lashes. Bhism was gone, leaving him with choices-each one a path to shape his destiny.

And so, in the rain-soaked training hall, the past and the future collided-a clash of honor, duty, and the unyielding desire to find his way back to love.



The princess's chamber was a cocoon of secrets-a place where shadows whispered and candlelight danced upon parchment. Princess Pristi sat at her ornate desk, the lamplight casting elongated silhouettes. Her fingers trembled as she dipped the quill into ink, the words etching themselves onto the paper.

The letter was her lifeline-a plea wrapped in secrecy. She had chosen her most trusted maid, Lila, to deliver it. Lila's eyes held the weight of loyalty as she accepted the folded missive. The secret passage awaited-the hidden artery that wound through the palace's bowels, connecting chambers and destinies.

Outside, rain tapped against the window, a symphony of urgency. Lila moved with grace, her footsteps silent as she navigated the dim corridors. The guards, oblivious to her mission, stood like statues. She slipped through the hidden door, the cold stone pressing against her back.

The village awaited-a labyrinth of alleys, rain-slicked and treacherous. Lila's breaths misted in the chill. She clutched the letter, its ink bleeding into her skin. The secret house-an enigma even to her-loomed ahead. She knocked, heart pounding.

The door creaked open, revealing a boy-lean, eyes sharp. His gaze swept over Lila, assessing. She handed him the letter, her voice a whisper.

Lila :- For you.

She said. He let her in and gave her a towel. The boy's fingers brushed hers, and he read the words-the princess's plea for aid. His lips curved, a shadow of amusement.

Boy :- Finally!

He murmured.

Boy :- She needs me.

Lila nodded, rainwater dripping from her hood. As she tried to soak it into her towel.

Boy :- Agreed, I'll come.

He glanced past her, into the dimly lit room. There, on a narrow bed, lay a woman-Queen Meenakshi, her chest rising and falling in slumber. The revelation hung heavy-an unspoken truth.

Boy :- Tell her, that her secret is safe. And mine too.

Lila's breath hitched.

Lila :- Why ?

She asked.

His eyes held the storm's secrets.

Boy :- Because, some secrets are worth keeping-even from queens. Remember, your mother did the same thing, afterall, she started all of it in the first place...

And so, in the rain-soaked village, the past and the future collided-a clash of honor, duty, and the unyielding desire to shape one's destiny.



Did you like this chapter ?

A very Happy Holi to all my dear friends. I wish you enjoy this festival of colours to your heart's content.

How was the conversation between Bhism and Duryodhan ? Will Duryodhan think about it and approach Bhanumati ?

And what was that ? Queen Meenakshi is alive!!!! Who was that boy Lila was talking to ? And what's that secret they're hiding from everyone.

Does Pristi have a dark side to her personality ?

So how do you think Balram will react on seeing Arjun or what will Arjun explain.

Amrit seems to be having a good time around people, if that is so, why does he hate being around people ?

Keep reading to find out.

Do comment if you have any suggestions.

Let's keep a target this time :- 30 votes.

Will see you in the next part, untill then, take care and bye.