As the late morning sun gently bathed the streets of Dwarika in its golden glow, life stirred in the bustling kingdom. The air was filled with the sounds of activity, from the rhythmic clinks of artisans at work to the laughter of children chasing each other through the streets. Shopkeepers arranged their wares while the aroma of freshly baked goods wafted from the bakeries, tempting passersby.

In the central square, soldiers drilled with precision, their movements synchronized as they honed their skills under the watchful eyes of their trainers. Meanwhile, elderly residents found solace in the warmth of the sun, sitting on benches and exchanging stories of times gone by.

Amidst this vibrant tapestry of daily life, the palace stood as a beacon of grandeur, its domes glistening in the morning light. Within its walls, whispered secrets and unspoken desires swirled like currents in a river, waiting to be revealed.

The sun's gentle fingers traced patterns across the polished wooden floor of Balram's office. The room exuded an air of quiet efficiency, its walls adorned with tapestries depicting ancient battles and forgotten legends. The scent of sandalwood lingered, a testament to the meticulous care that went into maintaining the royal chambers. The morning sunlight casting a warm glow across the room as he sifted through the various documents spread out before him.

A sudden knock on the door interrupted his concentration, prompting him to straighten in his chair. He wasn't accustomed to visitors during this part of his day. With a clear of his throat, he called out for the person to enter, curiosity piquing his interest.

His ink-stained fingers poised above a parchment, glanced up as the door groaned open revealing Prince Arjun standing in the doorway. Balram's eyebrows raised in mild surprise at the unexpected visitor, but he quickly composed himself and returned the greeting with a nod. Gesturing for Arjun to take a seat, he offered a polite smile, though a hint of curiosity lingered in his eyes.

Balram :- Arjun. What brings you to my humble office?

He said, rising from his chair. Arjun's smile was wry.

Arjun :- Humble, indeed.

He replied, stepping inside.

Arjun :- Your abode rivals the heavens themselves.

Balram gestured to a cushioned seat.

Balram :- Sit.

As Arjun settled, Balram leaned back against the desk.

Balram :- Apologies for not receiving you properly yesterday. The affairs of the kingdom demanded my attention.

Arjun :- No need for apologies. I rested well after the journey.

Balram studied him. The Pandava prince wore the weight of his lineage-the legacy of a fractured kingdom-etched into the lines around his eyes.

Balram :- And how fares Indraprasth?

Arjun :- It's peaceful there, everyone's good and healthy..... what about here?

Balram :- It's been a rollercoaster of late.

Hee admitted, his voice tinged with a note of resignation.

Balram :- But we're managing as best we can. There are challenges, of course, but nothing we can't handle.

Arjun leaned forward, his expression earnest as he listened to Balram's response.

Arjun :- I can only imagine the weight of your responsibilities.

He remarked sympathetically.

Arjun :- The burdens of leadership are often heavier than they appear from the outside.

Balram nodded in agreement, a fleeting sense of gratitude washing over him at Arjun's understanding. A brief silence settled between them, filled only by the soft rustle of papers and the distant hum of activity from the streets below. Arjun's gaze drifted towards the window, where the sun continued its slow ascent into the sky.

The sun's warm embrace filtered through the window, casting a mosaic of light and shadow upon the polished floor. Balram leaned back in his chair, the weight of responsibility settling upon his shoulders like a well-worn cloak.

As Arjun broached the delicate topic of his brother Karn, a flicker of tension passed through Balram's features, though it quickly gave way to a reassuring smile as he sensed Arjun's apprehension.

Balram :- There's no need for that look, Arjun.

He said gently, his tone softening.

Balram :- You're not responsible for the actions of others.

Arjun visibly relaxed at Balram's words, the weight of guilt easing from his shoulders.

Arjun :- I appreciate your understanding. But I cannot ignore the truth. Jhanvi carries Jeysth Karn's child.

Leaning forward slightly, he listened intently as Balram shared his thoughts on the situation, his gaze drifting to the window as if seeking solace in the rising sun.

Balram's words were measured and honest, reflecting a complex mix of emotions.

Balram :- I can't say I'm not angry with Karn.

He admitted, his voice tinged with regret.

Balram :- But anger alone won't resolve anything. Karn is a good man, but his actions have caused harm.

Turning back to face Arjun, Balram's expression softened, a hint of sadness clouding his eyes.

Balram :- He should have approached Jhanvi's family if he truly wished to marry her.

He continued, his voice tinged with disappointment.

Balram :- We would have welcomed the alliance with open arms. But instead, he chose a path that has caused pain to Jhanvi and to those who care for her.

Arjun nodded in understanding, a somber expression crossing his features.

Arjun :- Indeed, what's done is done.

He murmured, his tone reflective.

Arjun :- But we must find a way to move forward from here.

Their eyes met in silent understanding, a shared determination binding them together in their quest for a way forward.

Balram :- I love and care for my sisters, even more than myself.

Balram's words hung in the air, their weight palpable in the silence that followed. As he rose from his seat, a sense of gravity seemed to settle over the room, his movements deliberate and measured.

Balram :- I cannot stand by and watch my sisters suffer.

He began, his voice steady despite the turmoil in his heart.

Balram :- But I also trust Karn. I believe he is a man of integrity, and I cannot imagine him willingly causing harm to those he loves. He will come back for sure, it's just a matter of time but he will, I guess we'll just have to wait untill then.

Arjun listened intently, his mind racing as he processed Balram's words. It was a sentiment he had not expected, yet one that resonated deeply within him. He recalled the conversations he had shared with Krishna and Subhadra, the tension and uncertainty that had colored their words. But here, in this moment, there was only understanding and acceptance.

For a moment, Arjun was speechless, his mind struggling to grasp the sudden turn of events. But as Balram's hand came to rest on his shoulder, a reassuring presence in the midst of uncertainty, Arjun felt a sense of calm wash over him.

Balram's smile, though faint, held a promise of hope for the future.

Balram :- I trust you, Arjun.

He said, his voice filled with conviction.

Balram :- I trust that you will bring Karn back to Dwarika when his exile ends, so that he can marry Jhanvi and begin anew.

Arjun met Balram's gaze, a surge of determination coursing through him.

Arjun :- You have my word. I will do everything in my power to fulfill that promise.

As Arjun's thoughts continued to whirl with the unexpected turn of events, a soft chuckle broke the silence, drawing his attention to the doorway. There, standing side by side, were Krishna and Subhadra, their faces alight with mischievous grins.

Arjun's surprise quickly gave way to amusement as he realized the truth of the situation. He had been unwittingly drawn into their prank, believing Balram to be harboring resentment towards him and his brothers. Yet, here they stood, their laughter echoing through the room as they shared in the joke.

Joining in their laughter, Arjun couldn't help but feel a sense of relief wash over him. The tension that had weighed heavily upon him now seemed insignificant in the light of their shared laughter.

Caught in a stolen moment, Arjun's gaze met Subhadra's, and in that brief exchange, a silent understanding passed between them. A blush tinted Subhadra's cheeks as she looked away, a shy smile playing at the corners of her lips.

In that moment, amidst the laughter and camaraderie, Arjun felt a spark of something more-a connection that transcended words and bound them together in ways he had never imagined. And as they shared in the joy of the moment, he knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, they would face them together, as one.

After the laughter had subsided and the prank revealed, Krishna, Subhadra, and Arjun exchanged knowing glances before bidding farewell to Balram and exiting the room, their laughter echoing in the hallway beyond.

Left alone, Balram returned to his seat behind the desk, the remnants of their conversation lingering in the air. With a sense of renewed purpose, he turned his attention back to the reports and documents before him, his mind focused on the tasks at hand.

As the sun continued its ascent in the sky, casting a warm glow through the window, Balram resumed his duties with a quiet determination, knowing that despite the challenges that lay ahead, he would face them with strength and resolve. And as he delved back into his work, the echoes of laughter and camaraderie served as a reminder of the bonds that bound them together, guiding him forward into the promise of a new day.



The sun climbed steadily, casting a golden hue over the rolling hills and lush grasslands of the Anga Kingdom as the day began to unfold. The air was filled with the melodic chirping of birds, and the gentle rustle of leaves as a cool breeze swept through the land. Below, cows and sheep grazed lazily in the lush grasslands, their contentment palpable. The river flowed gently, its surface rippling as ducks glided silently, creating delicate patterns on the water.

In the distance, the rhythmic sound of hammers striking against stone echoed across the countryside, where a massive dam was taking shape at the edge of the river.

Over a thousand laborers toiled tirelessly, their voices mingling with the sounds of nature as they worked together, men and women alike, their determination evident in every swing of the hammer and every scoop of earth. The scene was a testament to the unity and strength of the Anga people, as they came together to build a brighter future for their kingdom.

The room exuded an aura of elegance and grandeur, with sunlight streaming through the windows to illuminate the exquisite paintings adorning the walls that held a vibrant palette of colors-crimson, gold, and azure. Each brushstroke seemed to tell a story, capturing the essence of the kingdom's rich history and culture. The ceiling, a masterpiece of stonework, added to the room's majestic atmosphere, its intricate carvings a testament to the craftsmanship of the artisans who had built it.

Heavy curtains, their fabric rich and opulent, hung at the windows, ready to be drawn closed should the need arise for privacy or to shield the room from the darkness of night. Despite the beauty of her surroundings, Pristi could not find solace in the opulence of her chamber. She sat upon a plush sofa, her fingers tracing the embroidered patterns, her delicate features etched with anxiety as she awaited the impending confrontation. The past, like a relentless specter, had caught up with her-the incident she had tried desperately to bury, the people she had avoided for years.

Her heartbeat echoed in her ears, a rapid rhythm that matched her racing thoughts. She had made a choice-one that would alter the course of their lives. The revelation she was about to make would ripple through the palace, testing loyalties and unraveling secrets. But if it meant bringing her brother, the once indomitable King Vikram, back from the abyss of despair, she would face the consequences a hundred times over.

Pristi's gaze shifted to the window, where the garden lay in tranquil splendor. The same sun that now warmed her skin had witnessed their childhood games, their shared laughter. She wondered how Vikram would react, how the courtiers would judge her revelation. Would they see her as a savior or a traitor?

Her mind raced with thoughts of the past, of the secrets she had harbored for so long, and the weight of the truth she now carried. Though she knew that revealing the truth was the only way to save her brother from himself, the uncertainty of how others would react gnawed at her. Yet, despite her fears, her resolve remained unwavering. For the sake of her beloved brother, she would brave any storm, no matter the cost.

The room held its breath, the sunlight filtering through the heavy curtains, casting elongated shadows on the polished floor. As the door creaked open, Pristi's heart quickened its pace, anticipation mingling with apprehension. She had anticipated this moment, yet it arrived with a weight she couldn't ignore. She steadied herself, drawing a deep breath before granting entry to the visitor.

Pristi :- Come in.

She said softly, her voice betraying the turmoil within. In walked a young man, Vasuhoma-accompanied by Lila, her trusted maid, his features reminiscent of his father's, yet softened by the delicate touch of his mother's lineage. Standing before her, he greeted her with a respectful gesture, his eyes betraying a mixture of curiosity and guardedness. Pristi studied him-the way his dark hair fell across his forehead, the tension in his shoulders. He was a mirror reflecting both past and present, a bridge between worlds.

Pristi :- Vasuhoma, it's been too long.

She said, her voice tinged with emotion as she met his gaze. Vasuhoma, the young prince, exuded an air of quiet confidence as he met Pristi's gaze, his demeanor a blend of youthful vigor and solemnity.

His resemblance to Vikram was uncanny, yet softened by his mother's features. The same stubborn chin, the same intensity. Pristi wondered how much of the king's spirit lingered within him. She glanced at Lila, who hovered nearby, her eyes filled with curiosity and concern.

He nodded, his expression unreadable as he took in the sight of his aunt.

Vasuhoma :- I had began to wonder if it'll take forever.

His words carried a hint of resignation, tinged with a touch of bitterness at the circumstances that had kept them apart for so long. Yet, beneath the surface, there lingered a sense of understanding, a silent acknowledgment of the complexities that had driven them apart.

Pristi sighed, her shoulders slumping with the weight of her regret.

Pristi :- I should have reached out to you sooner.

She admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Pristi :- But I didn't know how to face the truth.

Vasuhoma's response was measured, his words laced with a hint of sorrow as he spoke of the misconceptions that had plagued him throughout his life. Despite the challenges he had faced, he bore no ill will towards Pristi, understanding the difficult choices she had been forced to make.

Vasuhoma :- I don't blame you. I know you did what you thought was best.

He said quietly, his gaze never wavering from hers. With a gentle smile, she invited him to take a seat, her voice tinged with a note of sadness as she confessed her regrets for not reaching out to him sooner.

Vasuhoma :- People who have seen me, considered me to be an incarnation of devil, which obviously isn't true and apart from seeing and being able to talk to wandering spirits, I can't do anything.

Pristi listened intently as Vasuhoma explained his unique ability to perceive the spirits that lingered in the mortal realm. His casual demeanor belied the gravity of his words, and Pristi couldn't help but feel a pang of curiosity mingled with unease at the revelation.

Pristi :- How can you see these wandering ghosts ?

She asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Vasuhoma chuckled, a sound that held both amusement and resignation.

Vasuhoma :- Not ghosts, spirits.

He corrected gently. His eyes held a distant quality, as if he were recalling memories from another lifetime.

Vasuhoma :- They're not here to haunt us. They have messages-unfinished business, perhaps. Or lingering wishes.



Pristi :- So, you're saying you can communicate with these spirits ?

She asked, her voice tinged with disbelief. He chuckled softly, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes.

Vasuhoma :- Not exactly, I prefer to think of it as... sensing their presence.

Pristi's surprise lingered, and she couldn't help but feel a sense of unease at the realization that her nephew possessed abilities beyond her comprehension.

Vasuhoma steered the conversation back to its purpose.

Vasuhoma :- Why have you summoned me ?

He asked, his tone direct.

Vasuhoma : What can I do to assist you ?

Pristi sighed, her gaze falling to her lap as she struggled to find the words to explain the situation. She sank into the soft cushions of the sofa, her thoughts racing. Vikram, her brother-the once revered king-now lay injured, trapped in a slumber from which he showed no signs of waking. The court whispered of curses and ill omens, but Pristi knew the truth was more complex.

Vasuhoma :- It's okay, you can tell me, I won't laugh or make fun of you.

He tried to lighten up the mood a bit.

Pristi hesitated, then spoke the words that weighed heavily on her heart.

Pristi :- Your father. King Vikram. He was once a valiant ruler, beloved by our people. But now...

She trailed off, unable to articulate the transformation-the descent into darkness fueled by grief and despair.

Pristi :- I've called you here for help. Can you-by magic or miracle-restore him ? Bring back the Vikram who led armies, who inspired loyalty ?

Vasuhoma glanced at Lila, who stood nearby, her expression unreadable. The maid had been with them through thick and thin, her loyalty unwavering. But even she couldn't fathom the depths of Vikram's suffering.

Vasuhoma :- I am no doctor or magician, but I will try my best.

His words held a quiet resolve.

Vasuhoma :- Sometimes, healing lies beyond medicine and spells.

Their eyes locked, and Pristi saw something in Vasuhoma-a flicker of emotion, a hidden strength.

It was as if he held the key to a mystery she had yet to unravel, a mystery that would ultimately determine the fate of their kingdom.

A solitary tear traced its path down Pristi's cheek, a silent testament to the pain and guilt that gnawed at her soul, and she pressed her lips together, stifling a sob. She struggled to compose herself, swallowing back the rising tide of emotion as Vasuhoma's concerned gaze bore into her own.

Vasuhoma :- Are you alright ?

He asked softly, his voice laced with genuine concern. Pristi shook her head, her voice choked with emotion as she began to apologize for her past actions.

Pristi :- I regret what I did, I shouldn't have-

She confessed. She recounted the agony of her indecision, the weight of her guilt pressing down upon her with each passing moment. He interrupted her gently, his expression a mix of understanding and disappointment.

Vasuhoma :- Humans act on impulses, in moments of crisis, we don't always weigh right and wrong.

He spoke with a calm resolve, his tone gentle yet firm. His gaze drifted towards Lila, who watched the exchange with a mixture of curiosity and concern.

Vasuhoma :- But that doesn't change the fact that there was no justification for what you did.

Lila, the ever-watchful maid, hovered nearby, unsure whether to intervene. She had witnessed their family's struggles, the choices that had torn them apart. But now, with Vasuhoma's arrival, the past was unraveling, and Pristi's heartache spilled into the room.

Vasuhoma :- Your mother, she could have advised her differently.

His voice held a hint of regret.

Vasuhoma :- But arguing about the past won't change it. We must deal with what is at present.

He sighed, as if carrying the weight of centuries. Pristi's gratitude was genuine, even if she had expected anger.

Pristi :- I would understand if you were furious with me.

She said, her voice raw. But he cut her off, his tone firm.

Vasuhoma :- I've already said-I'm not angry.

He stood abruptly, pacing the room. The memories of whispers and pointed fingers haunted him-the boy who bore the stigma of being the devil's kin. Vasuhoma sighed, his features drawn with weariness as he paced back and forth across the room. He spoke of the burden he bore, the weight of his own existence.

Vasuhoma :- A curse or a boon, I cannot feel emotions-anger, pain, jealousy, happiness.

His admission hung in the air, a strange confession.

Vasuhoma :- It has its uses, but it leaves me feeling like an outsider in my own skin.

Pristi listened in silence, her heart aching for her nephew as he grappled with the enigma of his own existence.

Vasuhoma :- When can we go see my father ? You know... I've always wanted to meet him.

Vasuhoma's question hung in the air, a poignant reminder of what had been lost-the years of separation, the chasm between father and son. Pristi's tears flowed anew, her heartache raw and unfiltered. She had unknowingly woven a web of pain, and now Vasuhoma sat beside her, his presence both comforting and unsettling.

He touched her hand, a gentle squeeze that spoke of empathy. But his own emotions remained elusive. What could he say to ease her guilt? He had already assured her of his lack of anger, yet the weight of their shared history pressed upon them.

Vasuhoma's gentle touch brought a sense of comfort to Pristi, his silent presence a balm to her troubled soul. Then it happened. A shift-a ripple in the room's energy. Vasuhoma's senses heightened, and he became aware of another presence. Not Lila, not Pristi-the room held more secrets than he had anticipated.

Vasuhoma :- Is there someone... who passed away, but had unfinished business ?

He asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper. Pristi shook her head, her brow furrowed with confusion.

Pristi :- Not that I know of.

She replied, her voice tinged with uncertainty. Vasuhoma closed his eyes, his mind reaching out to the ethereal realm as he sought to discern the source of the mysterious presence. After a few moments of intense concentration, he opened his eyes once more, his gaze locking with Pristi's as he spoke of the spirits he sensed nearby.

Vasuhoma :- I sense spirits, an elderly couple.

He murmured. He held her hand, and Pristi's eyes widened.

Vasuhoma :- It's your parents, they're here... with us.

He said quietly, his words hanging in the air like a whispered secret.

Pristi's eyes widened in disbelief, her heart pounding with a mixture of fear and longing. She bombarded Vasuhoma with a barrage of questions, her voice trembling with emotion as she sought to understand the nature of their visitation.

Pristi :- Can you see them ? Where are they ? How are they ? What do they want to say ?

And the most crucial question:

Pristi :- Can I see them too ?

Vasuhoma hesitated, his expression grave as he considered her questions. With a gentle squeeze of her hand, he closed his eyes once more, his mind reaching out to the spectral realm as he sought to commune with the spirits that lingered nearby.

Vasuhoma :- Yes, I can feel their presence and see them, but... I don't have the power to make them visible to you, though I can act as a mediator between you and them.

Vasuhoma's words hung in the air, a bridge between realms-the living and the departed. He couldn't make Pristi see her parents, but he could relay their messages. The room seemed to hold its breath as he listened, his senses attuned to the ethereal.

Vasuhoma :- Your parents, they feel disappointed.

His voice carried the weight of their unfulfilled expectations. Pristi's raised eyebrows prompted him to continue.

Vasuhoma :- They expected better from you, they wanted you to care for your brother as they would have.

Pristi's heart sank at Vasuhoma's words, a pang of guilt coursing through her as she grappled with the weight of her parents' disappointment. She had always strived to fulfill her duties as a sister, standing by Vikram's side through thick and thin. Yet, as Vasuhoma's words pierced through her defenses, she couldn't help but wonder if she had failed him in ways she had never considered.

Pristi :- But I did everything I could for him, I supported him, I stood by his side...

She protested, her voice tinged with desperation. Vasuhoma listened in silence, his expression unreadable as he considered her words. With a heavy sigh, he gently explained the subtle difference between standing by someone and standing up for them.

Vasuhoma :- Standing by your brother's side, was commendable.

His gaze held hers.

Vasuhoma :- But there's a difference. When you stood by his side, you supported him in his everyday responsibilities, and took his place in his absence. To stand up for him, would mean more than fulfilling his kingly duties. It would mean preventing his descent into self-destruction-the wine, the drugs.

His voice softened.

Vasuhoma :- By merely standing by, you allowed him to follow that path.

Pristi's eyes widened in realization, her heart heavy with the weight of her own shortcomings. She had been so focused on fulfilling her duties as a sister that she had failed to see the true extent of Vikram's suffering, to recognize the signs of his descent into darkness.

Her tears blurred her vision, and she clenched her jaw to suppress the sob threatening to escape. Vasuhoma's presence offered solace, yet his words cut deep.

Pristi :- Was it all a waste ?

She whispered, her voice fragile. He shook his head, his gaze unwavering.

Vasuhoma :- Not at all a waste, you did your best.

He assured her. But there was an unspoken truth-the gap between effort and expectation.

Pristi :- Can I correct my blunders ? Amend the bonds ?

Pristi's voice trembled. Vasuhoma's answer was stark.

Vasuhoma :- Tell your brother the truth.

Her shoulders sagged, and she confessed her fear.

Pristi :- What if he never trusts me again ? I don't want to hurt him further.

The weight of her brother's pain pressed upon her. Vasuhoma studied her, his gaze piercing.

Vasuhoma :- Is it fear of hurting him, or fear of losing your authority ?

He asked, Pristi's eyes flashed, and she shot back,

Pristi :- I love my brother more than anyone.

But Vasuhoma probed deeper, his intuition sharp.

Vasuhoma:- And your childhood dream ? The one for which you always sought-an opportunity ?

Pristi's breath caught in her throat at Vasuhoma's probing question, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her features as she grappled with the weight of his words.

Pristi :- What... did you... mean by that ?

She asked, trembling to find appropriate words for her answer.

Vasuhoma :- Did you not, in the deepest corner of your heart, harboured a desire to carry foreward your father's legacy on the throne by assuming yourself as the queen of Anga. Which made you somewhat jealous of your sister in law ?

Vasuhoma's words hung in the air, a revelation that stirred Pristi's core. She had always been the dutiful sister, the caretaker of the kingdom, but his question pierced through her defenses. "Carry forward your father's legacy," he had said, and suddenly, the room felt smaller, the sunlight harsher.

She turned away from Vasuhoma, her gaze fixed on the world beyond the window as she grappled with the truth of his words. Images flashed through her mind, memories of her father's wise counsel and her mother's unwavering support, each moment a testament to the legacy she had inherited.

The garden lay below-a tapestry of colors, flowers nodding in the breeze. But her mind raced, memories colliding like waves against the shore.

The throne, once Vikram's birthright, now stood empty. The weight of it-the expectations, the lineage-pressed upon her.

As she stood there, bathed in the soft light of the setting sun, Pristi felt a sense of clarity wash over her. It was time to confront the truth, to acknowledge the secrets she had long kept hidden, even from herself....



As she stood there, bathed in the soft light of the setting sun, Pristi felt a sense of clarity wash over her. It was time to confront the truth, to acknowledge the secrets she had long kept hidden, even from herself.

Pristi's admission hung in the air, a confession of deep-seated desires and long-hidden ambitions. She turned back to Vasuhoma, her eyes now reflecting a newfound confidence and determination.

Pristi :- I was never jealous of anyone.

She began, her voice gaining strength with each word.

Pristi :- But I did always want to be the queen, the ruler my people would look up to. The decisions I made, they may not have been the best, but I never had any mal intentions. They were never purely for my benefit.

Vasuhoma regarded her with a thoughtful expression, his eyes tracing the lines of determination etched on her face.

Vasuhoma :- Not jealousy, ambition.

Hee acknowledged. His words were gentle, a mirror reflecting her truth.

Vasuhoma :- Your decisions, were not malicious. But they shaped your path.

After a few moments, he spoke, his tone filled with genuine appreciation.

Vasuhoma :- I admire your willingness to confront your mistakes. Despite the method you used to assume power, you have been a good ruler and a guardian for the people of Anga.

Pristi's heart lifted at his words, a glimmer of hope igniting within her. But her relief was short-lived, replaced by the gnawing worry about her parents' lingering disappointment. She asked Vasuhoma if her parents still harbored any dissatisfaction toward her.

Taking her palms in his, Vasuhoma closed his eyes, focusing intently as if listening to voices only he could hear. After a moment, he opened his eyes and met her gaze.

Vasuhoma :- Your parents are no longer disappointed in you, but they want you to correct your mistakes and tell the truth to Vikram."

Pristi sighed in exasperation, her mind racing with the implications of revealing the truth to her brother.

Pristi :- How can I tell him the truth ?

She asked, her voice tinged with desperation.

Pristi :- He's already in a fragile mental state. Telling him the truth could break him entirely.

Vasuhoma's expression softened, and he spoke with gentle reassurance.

Vasuhoma :- I understand your fear, but your parents believe that only by facing the truth can Vikram begin to heal. It might be painful, but it is necessary for him-and for you.

Pristi looked into Vasuhoma's eyes, seeing the conviction there. She knew he was right, but the path ahead was fraught with uncertainty and potential heartache.

Vasuhoma, sensing Pristi's hesitation, spoke gently to reassure her.

Vasuhoma :- You don't need to tell him everything at once. We can reveal the truth bit by bit, and see how it goes.

Pristi looked at him, her eyes searching his face for any sign of doubt. She found none.

Pristi :- Do you really think this will work ?

She asked, her voice filled with uncertainty. He met her gaze steadily.

Vasuhoma :- We can never be sure of anything in life, but we can at least try.

She nodded slowly, still uncertain but willing to trust him.

Pristi :- I'll do it, but only because you think it's the right thing to do.

Vasuhoma smiled slightly.

Vasuhoma :- I never said it was the correct way, but it seems the most appropriate given the circumstances.

A silence settled between them, each lost in their thoughts. Finally, Vasuhoma broke the quiet.

Vasuhoma :- When can we go see my father.

He asked, his voice tinged with a hint of eagerness.

Vasuhoma :- I've been waiting for this moment for so long.

Pristi blinked, realizing how long their conversation had gone on. She had almost forgotten the primary reason for their meeting. Wiping her tears, she nodded, then gestured for Vasuhoma and Lila to follow her.

Pristi :- Let's go.

She said, her voice resolute. She led them through the grand corridors of the palace, her heart pounding with a mix of fear and determination. The ornate decorations and the faint scent of incense filled the air as they walked, the heavy silence between them broken only by the soft echo of their footsteps.

As they approached Vikram's chamber, Pristi paused for a moment, gathering her courage. She turned to Vasuhoma, her eyes reflecting both resolve and uncertainty.

Pristi :- Remember, we'll take it one step at a time.

She said softly, Vasuhoma nodded, his expression calm and reassuring.

Vasuhoma :- One step at a time

He echoed. With a final deep breath, Pristi pushed open the door to Vikram's chamber, leading the way into the room where the once valiant king lay. As the wooden door creaked open, Pristi, Vasuhoma, and Lila entered Vikram's chamber. The room was dimly lit, the air inside was heavy with the scent of herbs and the faint, lingering aroma of wine. Vikram lay on the bed, his once robust frame now frail and worn from years of self-destruction.

Pristi approached him slowly, her heart aching at the sight of her brother in such a state. She quickly ordered all the maids and nurses to leave, giving them the privacy they needed for this delicate moment.

Vasuhoma's eyes were immediately drawn to the man lying on the bed at the center of the room. Vikram, once a mighty and respected king, now looked frail and worn, deep in a restless sleep. Pristi led Vasuhoma to his father, her voice trembling slightly as she spoke.

Pristi :- This is your father. He fell from a height and injured himself. We need him to heal, Vasuhoma.

She said softly. Vasuhoma knew he should feel something upon meeting his father for the first time, but the familiar numbness persisted. He moved to sit beside Vikram, taking his father's palm in his own. Closing his eyes, he tried to sense the presence of any wandering spirits, but felt nothing.

Vasuhoma :- There's nothing wrong.

He said after a moment, looking up at Pristi with a rare hint of relief.

Vasuhoma :- He should heal with the medicines alone.

A moment of awkward silence hung in the air, each of them lost in their own thoughts. Finally, Vasuhoma spoke again.

Vasuhoma:- If you ever feel like asking me for help, I'll always be here.

Pristi nodded, her gratitude evident.

Pristi :- Thank you, Vasuhoma.

Vasuhoma :- Can I leave now ?

He asked gently. Pristi hesitated, then nodded.

Pristi :- Yes, but I would prefer if you stayed.

He shook his head slightly, a small, understanding smile on his lips.

Vasuhoma :- You were the one who didn't want anyone to know I was Vikram's son. And I was okay with it. I never craved for any princely status or luxury. I wouldn't feel anything from it due to my lack of ability to feel emotions.

Pristi looked at him, a mix of sorrow and understanding in her eyes.

Pristi :- I know, but that doesn't change the fact that you are part of this family. You deserve to be here, with us. I still request you to stay. I will try my best to correct some of the mistakes I made in the past, and that includes revealing your true identity to everyone. I also need you here when I reveal the truth to Vikram.

Vasuhoma sighed, feeling the weight of her words.

Vasuhoma :- I understand. I am always here to help. I'll stay, but only because you asked.

Pristi's eyes softened, and she reached out to squeeze his hand.

Pristi :- Thank you, Vasuhoma. Together, we'll find a way to heal this family.

Satisfied and somewhat relieved, Pristi managed a small smile. She watched as Vasuhoma stood up and walked towards the window. He gazed out at the distant hills where the construction of the dam was progressing, the workers bustling like ants below the partially cloudy sky.

The peaceful landscape stood in stark contrast to the turmoil within the palace walls. Vasuhoma's eyes traced the horizon, perhaps contemplating the uncertain future and the challenges ahead. Despite his inability to feel emotions, he understood the significance of the moment and the role he would play in the family's healing process.

Pristi joined him by the window, the two standing side by side in silent reflection. The sunlight filtered through the glass, casting a warm glow on their faces. It was a moment of quiet resolve, a pause before the storm of revelations and the beginning of a new chapter for their family.

As the scene drew to a close, the camera panned out to capture the serene view of the hills, the gentle flow of the river, and the hardworking figures at the dam. It was a reminder that even in the midst of personal chaos, life continued to move forward, and with determination and honesty, they too could find a way to move on and heal.

Late in the morning, the sun had already risen high, casting a warm, golden light over the bustling city of Dwarika. The sky was a clear, brilliant blue, unmarred by any clouds. The mood was neutral, with an atmosphere of peaceful routine that enveloped the city like a comforting blanket.

In the verdant gardens surrounding the palace, animals moved about in a harmonious dance with the cool monsoon winds. Peacocks fanned their iridescent feathers, performing for an audience of chattering monkeys and graceful deer that roamed the grounds. Earthworms wriggled their way into the moist, rich soil, contributing to the natural cycle of life with silent diligence.

Nearby, bees buzzed industriously around clusters of blooming flowers, diligently collecting nectar to build their hives. Their collective hum added a gentle symphony to the serene morning. Birds flitted from tree to tree, singing sweet melodies that echoed through the air, creating a sense of idyllic tranquility.

Life in Dwarika was soothing and calm as usual, the perfect reflection of the city's prosperity and harmony. The palace, a grand structure with its majestic towers and intricate carvings, stood proudly against the backdrop of this serene landscape, a symbol of the kingdom's strength and stability.

The people of Dwarika went about their daily routines with a contented ease, their hearts light and their minds at peace. It was a morning like any other, yet it held a subtle undercurrent of anticipation, as if the very air was aware of the significant events soon to unfold within the palace walls.

Arjun stood near the grand palace gates, his chariot waiting patiently nearby. The sun's rays glinted off his armor, casting a warm glow that mirrored the affection in his eyes as he gazed upon his gathered family. Krishna and Balram stood beside him, their faces reflecting a mix of pride and concern.

With a firm embrace, Arjun hugged Balram first.

Balram :- Take care of yourself, Arjun.

He said, his voice a deep rumble filled with brotherly love and care.

Balram :- The road ahead is long, and you must stay vigilant.

Arjun nodded, a small smile playing on his lips.

Arjun :- I will, brother. I look forward to our next meeting.

He then turned to Krishna, who wrapped him in a warm embrace.

Krishna :- Safe travels, Arjun.

He said, his voice calm and reassuring.

Krishna :- May your journey be as swift as the wind and as smooth as the surface of the Yamuna.

Arjun sighed, the weight of his unspoken worries pressing heavily on his shoulders.

Arjun :- I am eager to return, but I am uncertain about how to reveal the truth of Jhanvi's pregnancy to my family.

He confessed, his voice low with concern. Krishna's eyes sparkled with a knowing smile.

Krishna :- Do not trouble yourself with that now.

He said, reaching into the folds of his garment. He pulled out a finely sealed letter and handed it to Arjun.

Krishna:- Give this to my sakhi Draupadi. She will understand everything.

Arjun took the letter, his brow furrowed in confusion, but he trusted Krishna implicitly.

Arjun :- I will do as you say.

He replied, his grip on the letter firm. Just as Arjun was about to mount his chariot, a movement caught his eye. He turned to see Jhanvi standing a short distance away, her eyes downcast and her hands clasped nervously in front of her. Recognizing her hesitance, Arjun walked over to her.

Arjun :- Jhanvi.

He greeted, his voice gentle. She managed a small smile, her eyes flickering up to meet his briefly.

Jhanvi :- I came to wish you a happy journey, Arjun.

He studied her face for a moment, sensing the turmoil she tried to hide.

Arjun :- Thank you, Jhanvi, but I sense there is more you wish to say.

Jhanvi looked away, a deep sigh escaping her lips.

Jhanvi :- I... I don't know how to express it, I feel responsible for what has happened.

She admitted, her voice trembling. Arjun shook his head, his expression earnest.

Arjun :- You have nothing to apologize for.

Jhanvi :- No, I am just as much at fault as he is.

Sreplied firmly, finally meeting his gaze. Moved by her honesty and courage, Arjun reached up and removed a gold chain from around his neck. He held it out to her, the sunlight catching on the polished surface.

Arjun :- This was given to me by my mother. Now, I give it to you. It is a gift for my future nephew or niece. Keep it safe and one day, pass it on to your child.

Jhanvi hesitated, her eyes widening in surprise. Slowly, she reached out and took the chain, her fingers brushing against his.

Jhanvi :- Thank you, Arjun.

She whispered, her voice filled with emotion.

He smiled, a warm, reassuring smile that conveyed his support and understanding.

Jhanvi :- Take care, Jhanvi. And if you ever need anything, do not hesitate to reach out.

As he turned to go, Jhanvi suddenly spoke up.

Jhanvi :- Arjun, please tell Pallavi that I am sorry for speaking harshly and judging her unfairly. Arjun nodded.

Arjun :- I will deliver your message.

He walked back to his chariot, his heart heavy yet hopeful. As he approached, he glanced at Subhadra, who stood nearby. She waved to him, her eyes filled with encouragement and a reassuring nod. He nodded back, feeling a surge of gratitude for her silent support.

Mounting his chariot, Arjun gave the signal to his charioteer. The horses began to move, pulling the chariot forward. He looked back one last time, seeing the royal family gathered, watching him leave. Their figures grew smaller as the chariot picked up speed, but the image of their faces remained clear in his mind, a reminder of the bonds that tied them together.

With a final glance, Arjun turned his eyes forward, ready to face the journey ahead, carrying the weight of his responsibilities and the

hopes of his family. The rhythmic beat of the horses' hooves on the ground and the gentle sway of the chariot provided a steady backdrop to his thoughts. He gripped the reins firmly, feeling the cool breeze brush against his face as he moved further away from Dwarika.

In his heart, he carried the words and emotions of the morning. Krishna's wisdom, Balram's strength, Subhadra's silent support, and Jhanvi's vulnerability and courage all blended into a mosaic of familial love and duty. Each element reminded him of the importance of his role within this intricate web of relationships.

The golden chain he had given to Jhanvi felt like a symbolic link, a promise of protection and hope for the future. He thought of the letter in his possession, meant for Draupadi, and wondered about its contents. Krishna's assurance that she would understand everything provided some comfort, yet Arjun's mind raced with possibilities. He trusted Krishna implicitly, but the unknown always carried a weight of its own.

As the landscape changed around him, shifting from the lush gardens of Dwarika to the open roads leading to his next destination, Arjun allowed himself a moment of reflection. The peaceful atmosphere of the city, the harmonious dance of the animals, and the serene, everyday life he had left behind contrasted sharply with the uncertainties and challenges that lay ahead.

Arjun knew that his journey was not just a physical one. It was a path that would test his resolve, his loyalty, and his ability to navigate the complex dynamics of his family and his responsibilities as a Pandava. With a deep breath, he focused on the road ahead, ready to face whatever came his way, guided by the love and support of those he held dear.



The first light of dawn broke over the grand palace of Hastinapur, casting long shadows on its intricate architecture. The air was crisp, carrying the scent of dew-kissed flowers and the distant murmur of awakening city life. The golden spires glinted in the early morning sun as Prince Duryodhan stood at the palace gates, his muscular frame illuminated by the soft glow. He was busy overseeing the loading of his chariot, its wooden sides reinforced with iron bands, built for both speed and endurance.

Duryodhan's face was set with determination, his jaw clenched and eyes focused. Today, he was leaving for Dwarika, to train under the legendary warrior Balram. He believed that under Balram's tutelage, he would master the art of mace fighting and return as the greatest mace wielder of all time. His heart thrummed with anticipation and a touch of anxiety as he imagined the rigorous training and the honor of learning from such a revered master.

Servants scurried around, securing bundles of provisions and carefully packing his armor and weapons. The prince himself placed his prized mace, a gift from his father, securely in the chariot, its weight familiar and reassuring. He glanced up at the palace, his home, knowing that this departure was necessary for his growth and ambition.

As the last of his gear was secured, Duryodhan paused to take a deep breath, surveying the scene around him. The palace guards stood at attention, the stable hands busied themselves with the horses, and the early morning sunlight bathed the scene in an ethereal light. It was a moment of transition, a step towards a future he had long envisioned.

A soft rustle of robes caught his attention, and he turned to see his uncle, Shakuni, approaching. The older man's presence was a familiar and comforting one, though Duryodhan's expression remained guarded.

Draped in his royal robes, Shakuni's eyes held a glint of mischief, yet today, there was a hint of something else - perhaps pride or concern.

Shakuni :- Duryodhan!

He called out, his voice smooth and carrying an undertone of affection. Duryodhan barely glanced at him, focusing instead on tightening the straps on his chariot.

Duryodhan :- Mamashree.

He replied curtly, his mind occupied with thoughts of the journey ahead.

Shakuni stopped a few paces away, observing his nephew with a knowing smile.

Shakuni :- Leaving without a word, my dear nephew ?

His voice carried a hint of amusement, his sharp eyes gleaming with a mixture of pride and concern.

Duryodhan turned to face his uncle, his expression hardening instinctively.

Duryodhan :- I thought you would still be resting, Mamashree. I did not wish to disturb you.

He replied curtly, his tone devoid of warmth. Shakuni's gaze softened as he stepped closer, his slender fingers adjusting the folds of his flowing robes.

Shakuni :- Disturb me ? My dear Duryodhan, you are embarking on a journey that will define your future. How could I possibly rest ?

Duryodhan nodded, his eyes never leaving his task.

Duryodhan :- I must become the best. Balram will make me a warrior to be feared and respected.

There was a moment of silence as the two stood facing each other, the early morning light casting long shadows on the cobblestone path. Duryodhan averted his gaze, an unusual sense of vulnerability creeping into his heart. He had always been a proud and defiant prince, but the thought of leaving Shakuni behind gnawed at him.

Seeing his nephew's hesitation, Shakuni turned to leave, a resigned smile playing on his lips.

Shakuni :- Very well, Duryodhan. If you must go, then go. But remember, the path of a warrior is fraught with peril and glory alike. Do not lose yourself in unwanted influence.

Duryodhan stiffened, his pride flaring.

Duryodhan :- I know what I must do.

Shakuni sighed and turned to leave, sensing his nephew's reluctance to engage.

Shakuni :- Very well, then. Safe travels, Duryodhan. May the gods be with you.

As Shakuni began to walk away, a pang of realization hit Duryodhan. This was the first time he would be without his uncle, his mentor, and his confidant. He felt an unexpected tug at his heart.

Duryodhan :- Mamashree, wait!

He called out, his voice breaking the morning stillness. Shakuni paused and turned back, a curious look on his face.

Duryodhan took a deep breath, struggling with his words.

Duryodhan :- I... I apologize. It is difficult for me to leave, knowing you will not be there to guide me. I promise you, I will return as the foremost among mace wielders. I will make you proud.

A rare softness touched Shakuni's features, and he stepped closer, placing a hand on Duryodhan's shoulder.

Shakuni :- I have no doubt you will, my boy.

Duryodhan nodded, feeling a sense of reassurance and resolve. With a final, respectful bow to his uncle, he climbed into his chariot. As the horses began to move, the prince looked back one last time, seeing Shakuni standing tall and proud, watching him leave.

The road to Dwarika stretched ahead, filled with promise and challenges, but Duryodhan knew that he carried the wisdom and support of his uncle with him. This journey was just the beginning, and he was ready to embrace it with all the strength he possessed.



The sun dipped low on the horizon, and the sky was painted with hues of deep orange and violet as Prince Duryodhan's chariot finally approached the gates of Dwarika. The journey had been long and exhausting, the horses weary from the relentless pace set by their master.

The city, with its gleaming spires and bustling streets, was a magnificent sight even in the dimming light. Its towering structures and bustling streets brought a mix of relief and anticipation to Duryodhan's heart. However, unlike the grand welcomes he was accustomed to in Hastinapur, his arrival here was marked by a calm, almost understated reception. He knew he was an unexpected guest, and the lack of fanfare did not surprise him.

As his chariot rumbled through the palace gates, Duryodhan saw two familiar figures waiting for him-Krishna and Balram. Inside the courtyard, the atmosphere was serene, a stark contrast to the grandeur of Hastinapur.

Krishna, with his serene smile and composed demeanor, stood beside his elder brother, Balram, who looked every bit the formidable warrior with his muscular build and stern expression. Their presence commanded respect, yet there was an air of simplicity in their demeanor.

Duryodhan dismounted from his chariot, his legs slightly stiff from the long journey. He walked with purpose toward the brothers, his heart pounding with a mixture of anticipation and nervousness. He had come here with a clear goal, and he knew that this moment was crucial.

He approached Balram first, bowing deeply and touching his feet in a gesture of respect and humility.

Duryodhan:- Greetings, Bhrata.

He said, his voice steady despite the exhaustion that weighed on him.

Duryodhan :- I have come to seek your guidance and to train under your esteemed tutelage. I wish to hone my skills with the mace and become the greatest warrior of my time.

Balram regarded him with a critical eye, his brain remained wary.

Balram :- Greetings Duryodhan, your arrival is sudden and unexpected.

He said, his tone measured. The prince's sudden arrival had taken him by surprise, and he was wary of the motives behind it. His skepticism was palpable, but he remained silent, his gaze shifting to Krishna, whose demeanor remained unchanged.

Balram :- Why have you come here all of a sudden ? And why do you seek my guidance ?

Before Duryodhan could respond, Krishna stepped forward, his eyes twinkling with a knowing smile. He stepped forward, his smile unwavering.

Krishna :- Bhrata.

He said, addressing Balram.

Krishna :- It is indeed an unusual request, and Duryodhan's arrival is unexpected. However, the choice to accept him as your pupil rests solely with you. Consider it well.

Duryodhan turned to Krishna, his hands joined in a gesture of earnest appeal.

Duryodhan :- Vasudev, I have heard of Bhrata Balram's unparalleled skill and wisdom. I am willing to do whatever it takes to learn from him. Please, give me this chance.

Balram's stern gaze softened slightly at Duryodhan's humility. He could see the determination and resolve in the young prince's eyes. After a moment of silence, he spoke.

Balram :- Your determination is clear, but your arrival without prior notice raises questions.

Duryodhan understood the need for deliberation. He bowed his head in respect.

Duryodhan :- I understand, bhrata Balram. I will abide by your decision, whatever it may be.

Balram nodded, his expression thoughtful.

Balram :- Very well, Duryodhan. You will rest tonight and we will discuss this further in the morning. Training under me is not easy, and it requires not just skill, but also discipline and a willingness to learn.

Duryodhan bowed again, his heart swelling with hope.

Duryodhan:- Thank you, Bhrata. I will not disappoint you.

Krishna placed a reassuring hand on Duryodhan's shoulder.

Krishna :- Come, bhrata. Let us show you to your quarters. You have had a long journey and must be tired.

As they walked through the palace, Duryodhan felt a sense of calm wash over him. The uncertainty of the day's journey had given way to a new resolve. He was in Dwarika, and he had taken the first step towards his goal. The road ahead would be challenging, but with Balram's guidance and Krishna's support, he felt ready to face whatever trials awaited him.



The first rays of dawn cast a warm glow over Balram's training arena, a vast, open space surrounded by tall trees and neatly kept gardens. The cool morning air was crisp, filled with the scent of blooming flowers and the distant sound of birds singing. The arena was simple, yet it exuded an aura of discipline and strength.

Duryodhan, dressed in his training attire, stood in the center of the arena, stretching his muscles and mentally preparing for the day ahead. His heart raced with anticipation and a touch of nervousness. He had barely slept the night before, anticipation and a lingering sense of uncertainty keeping him restless.

Today, he would prove his worth to Balram, the renowned master of mace warfare. Balram and Krishna approached, their presence commanding respect and attention.

Balram, stood with his arms crossed, his expression unreadable but his presence commanding respect. With his towering frame and intense gaze, he looked every bit the formidable warrior he was known to be. Krishna, on the other hand, radiated a serene calmness, his ever-present smile hinting at a deeper wisdom. He carried a cup of tea, which he sipped leisurely, watching the proceedings with interest.

Balram :- Duryodhan.

He began, his voice deep and authoritative.

Balram :- Before we begin your training, let us warm up with a wrestling match. It will give me an understanding of your current strength and endurance.

Duryodhan nodded, his eyes narrowing with determination. He removed his upper garment, revealing a body honed by years of training, muscles rippling under his skin. He stepped into the makeshift ring marked on the ground, facing Balram, who had also discarded his outer robe.

He and Balram took their positions, circling each other, each one assessing the other's stance and movements. With a sudden burst of energy, they clashed, muscles straining and bodies colliding with force. The struggle was intense, both warriors evenly matched in strength and skill. The ground beneath them shook as they grappled, each trying to gain the upper hand. Balram's experience was evident in his movements, but Duryodhan's raw strength and determination kept him in the fight.

Krishna watched them with a serene expression, sipping his tea. His eyes twinkled with amusement as he observed the fierce competition. The wrestling match continued for several minutes, neither Duryodhan nor Balram willing to concede defeat. Eventually, Balram managed to pin Duryodhan down, holding him firmly in place.

Balram :- Enough!

He declared, releasing Duryodhan and stepping back. Both men were breathing heavily, their bodies glistening with sweat. Duryodhan's respect for Balram had only grown, and he could see the faintest hint of approval in Balram's eyes.

Balram :- Well fought. You have shown your strength and determination, Duryodhan. Now, let us move on to the real test.

Duryodhan rose to his feet, breathing heavily but determined not to show any weakness. Balram walked over to a corner of the arena, where a large object lay covered by a red cloth. With a swift motion, he pulled off the cloth, revealing a magnificent golden mace. The mace was beautifully crafted, its surface adorned with intricate designs and symbols, that caught the morning light. But more than its beauty, it was its sheer size and apparent weight that struck Duryodhan.

Balram :- This is my mace.

He said, his voice carrying a note of pride.

Balram :- If you can lift it, I will accept you as my student.

Duryodhan stepped forward, his eyes fixed on the mace. He could feel its weight just by looking at it, but his resolve did not waver. He gripped the handle firmly, feeling the cool metal under his palms and pulled with all his might. The mace barely budged. He gritted his teeth and tried again, his muscles straining with the effort, but the mace remained firm. It did not budge. He tried again, his muscles straining, his face reddening with effort, but still, the mace remained immovable.

Balram watched Duryodhan's struggle with a critical eye, while Krishna's calm demeanor never changed. After several failed attempts, Duryodhan paused, breathing heavily and feeling a sense of frustration creeping in. His mind flashed back to similar experiences in the past where his strength had not been enough.

Balram :- Kanha.

He said, turning to his brother.

Balram :- Do you think Duryodhan can lift my mace ?

Krishna smiled softly.

Krishna :- Bhrata Duryodhan, to lift the mace, he must let go of his insecurities and doubts. Strength alone is not enough. He should believe in himself, and then he will find the power he seeks.

Duryodhan closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, letting go of the struggle for a moment, focusing inward. He touched the mace again, but this time, he wasn't thinking of his failure. He was thinking of his goals, his determination, and the trust he had to place in himself.

He had always been plagued by doubts and insecurities, constantly comparing himself to others. He let the tension drain from his body, focusing instead on a sense of inner calm and confidence. He envisioned himself lifting the mace effortlessly, feeling the weight of his doubts lifting from his shoulders.

With renewed determination, Duryodhan opened his eyes and reached for the mace once more. This time, he felt a surge of energy and confidence coursing through him. He gripped the handle and, with a smooth motion, lifted the mace off the ground as if it were a mere toy. The mace rose above his head, glinting in the morning sun. Duryodhan's face broke into a broad smile, a newfound confidence shining in his eyes. The weight that had seemed insurmountable moments before now felt almost negligible in his hands.

A sense of joy and accomplishment filled Duryodhan's heart. He had done it. He had lifted Balram's mace. He turned to face Balram and Krishna, holding the mace aloft with a proud smile.

Balram's stern expression softened, and he nodded approvingly.

Balram :- Well done, Duryodhan. You have proven not only your strength your ability to overcome your inner battles. I will accept you as my student.

Duryodhan lowered the mace and bowed deeply to Balram, his heart swelling with gratitude and respect.

Duryodhan :- Thank you, Guru Balram. I will not disappoint you.

Krishna, still sipping his tea, smiled warmly.

Krishna :- Congratulations, Duryodhan. Remember, true strength comes from within. As long as you believe in yourself, there is no challenge you cannot overcome.

Balram stepped forward and placed a hand on Duryodhan's shoulder.

Balram :- Your training will be rigorous and demanding, but I see great potential in you. Together, we will hone your skills and make you the greatest mace warrior of our time.

Duryodhan nodded, his eyes shining with determination.

Duryodhan :- I am ready, Guru Balram. I will give it my all.

As the morning sun continued to rise, casting its golden light over the training arena, Duryodhan felt a renewed sense of purpose. He had taken the first step on a new path, one that would test his limits and forge him into a true warrior. With Balram's guidance, he knew he could achieve greatness.

As the morning light grew brighter, Balram began instructing Duryodhan on the basics of his training regimen. The exercises were grueling, designed to test both physical endurance and mental fortitude. Under Balram's watchful eye, Duryodhan pushed himself to the limits, each movement precise, every muscle working in concert.

The day had begun, and with it, a new chapter in Duryodhan's journey had unfolded. The journey ahead was still long, and the challenges many, but for the first time, Duryodhan felt truly ready to face them. With his newfound confidence and the guidance of his mentors, he looked forward to the future with hope and determination.



Bright noon light streamed through the stone carved windows of Sumali's chamber, casting a kaleidoscope of colors across the stone floor. The air was thick with a mix of incense and the sharp scent of freshly ground herbs. Sumali stood by a large wooden table cluttered with vials, bowls, and a mortar and pestle. Her long, dark hair was tied back, and her eyes were focused and determined. Her slender fingers moving deftly as she ground the magical herb into a fine powder. The air was thick with the pungent scent of crushed leaves and roots.

Her brother, Gajasur, a towering figure with an imposing presence, stood nearby, his gaze shifting nervously between his unconscious brother, Makrasur, and Sumali.

Makrasur lay on a bed draped with rich, dark fabrics. His usually formidable form was diminished, pale and still, save for the shallow rise and fall of his chest. The deep wound on his side, the result of a brutal battle, had been cleaned and bound but refused to heal. Sumali knew that conventional remedies were futile; only the magical herb she had painstakingly retrieved could save him. Sumali's heart ached at the sight of him, a stark contrast to the fierce warrior he had once been.

She meticulously crushed the last of the herb, its vibrant green leaves releasing a potent, earthy aroma. She mixed the finely ground powder with a base of sacred oils, creating a thick, luminescent paste. Her hands moved deftly, guided by ancient knowledge passed down through generations. With a final, delicate stir, the mixture began to glow faintly, signaling its readiness.

She added a few drops of a viscous, emerald-green liquid to the powder and mixed them into a paste. She took a deep breath, steadying her nerves. This medicine, made from a rare and potent herb, was their last hope.

Sumali :- It's ready.

She said, her voice steady but tinged with anxiety. She filled a small glass vial with the thick, glowing concoction and attached a slender needle to it. The liquid shimmered with a faint, otherworldly light, a testament to its magical properties.

Sumali :- Gaja.

She called softly, her voice steady despite the turmoil within her.

Sumali :- It's time.

Gajasur stepped forward, his massive frame casting a shadow over the bed. His usually fierce eyes softened as he looked at Makrasur, their bond deeper than that of most siblings. He gently rolled up the sleeve of Makrasur's tunic, exposing a muscular arm marred with scars from countless battles. Sumali filled a syringe with the glowing concoction, her hands surprisingly steady.

Sumali :- Hold him steady.

She instructed, her voice a mixture of authority and tenderness.

Gajasur nodded, placing a reassuring hand on Makrasur's shoulder. Sumali leaned in, her eyes locking onto the vein. With a swift, precise motion, she administered the injection. The liquid entered Makrasur's bloodstream, its luminescence spreading like ripples in water. Sumali and Gajasur held their breaths, the room falling into an expectant silence.

Minutes passed like hours. Sumali watched intently, her heart pounding in her chest. Then, slowly, the glow intensified, spreading across Makrasur's body. His skin, once pallid and lifeless, now shimmered with a radiant light. The wound began to close, the dark, angry edges knitting together with a warmth that seemed to come from within.

Sumali and Gajasur exchanged hopeful glances, a silent prayer shared between them. Gajasur's tense features relaxed into a cautious smile, mirrored by Sumali's own expression of relief and anticipation. They had done all they could; now, it was up to Makrasur's resilience and the magic of the herb.

Sumali walked over to the window, the vibrant noon sunlight washing over her. She looked out at the sprawling landscape of their kingdom, a place of both beauty and peril.

Sumali :- All we have to do now is wait.

She said softly, her gaze distant yet hopeful.

Gajasur joined her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.

Gajasur :- He's strong, jiji. He'll make it.

He reassured her, though the worry in his eyes was still evident.

Sumali nodded, drawing strength from her brother's presence. Together, they watched as the light of noon began its slow descent, waiting for the miracle they had so desperately fought for.



Draupadi stood on the balcony of her chamber, her regal form silhouetted against the stormy night sky. Dark clouds loomed overhead, their thick, impenetrable masses blocking out the stars. Cold winds whipped around her, tugging at her delicate garments and sending a chill deep into her bones. Below her, the villages surrounding the palace lay in a hushed state, their flickering lights barely visible through the misty rain. The village below was alive despite the storm. Shadows moved briskly, children were hurried indoors by their mothers, and the distant sound of laughter and chatter faintly reached her ears. Yet, the vibrant life below failed to lift the weight from her heart.

A sudden gust of wind made her shiver. The heavy scent of rain was in the air, mingled with the earthy aroma of the fields and the distant, faint scent of the sea.

Lost in thought, Draupadi's hand rested lightly on her rounded belly. She was heavy with child, and while the palace walls provided safety and warmth, her heart ached for her husband, Karn, who was enduring the harsh exile in the forest. She imagined him, shivering under the merciless cold, with no shelter but a tree and no comfort but his own determination. The thought brought a sharp pang of sorrow, mingled with a deep, unyielding love.

Her reverie was broken by the soft sound of footsteps. Turning slightly, she saw her sister queen, Pallavi, approaching with a shawl in her hands. The warmth of Pallavi's presence was a welcome contrast to the night's bitter chill. Without a word, Pallavi draped the shawl around Draupadi's shoulders, pulling it snugly to protect her from the cold, her hands lingering to ensure it provided adequate warmth.

Pallavi :- You must take care of yourself, jiji.

Pallavi said gently, her voice barely audible above the howling wind.

Pallavi :- For the sake of the child in your womb.

Draupadi sighed deeply, her breath visible in the cold air.

Draupadi :- I cannot help but think of Arya.

She replied, her voice tinged with a mix of love and anguish.

Draupadi :- He would also be enduring this cold, with nothing but the thin fabric of his clothes and the rough bark of a tree for protection. How can I find comfort here when he suffers so ?

Pallavi stepped closer, her eyes filled with compassion and understanding.

Pallavi :- Arya is a trained warrior.

She reminded Draupadi softly.

Pallavi :- He is well experienced in living and enduring such harsh circumstances. He would not want you to suffer in his stead.

Draupadi turned her gaze back to the distant villages, her mind drifting to memories of Karn.

Draupadi :- It is not just the cold, I worry about his well-being, his safety. Every day of his exile is a day filled with uncertainty.

Pallavi placed a comforting hand on Draupadi's arm.

Pallavi :- Your worry is natural, but you must also trust in his strength and resilience. Arya is not just any man; he is a seasoned warrior with the heart of a lion. He will endure and return to you.

The sisters stood in silence for a moment, the wind swirling around them. Pallavi's words, though comforting, could not entirely dispel Draupadi's fears. Yet, she found a small measure of solace in knowing that she was not alone in her worry.

A distant roll of thunder punctuated Pallavi's words, making them seem even more significant. Draupadi nodded slowly, her eyes turning back to the stormy night.

Draupadi :- You are right, Pallavi. He is strong. He will endure this, as he has endured so much already.

Pallavi smiled gently.

Pallavi :- Come.

She said, guiding Draupadi back towards the warmth of the chamber.

Pallavi :- Let us go inside. The cold is too harsh for you to bear in your condition.

Reluctantly, Draupadi allowed herself to be led back into the room. the warmth of the chamber, the heavy wooden doors closing out the storm behind them.

As they crossed the threshold, she cast one last look at the stormy night, whispering a silent prayer for Karn's safety. The warmth of the chamber enveloped her, but it did little to thaw the icy worry in her hear.

Inside, the room was softly lit by oil lamps, casting a warm glow that contrasted sharply with the bleakness outside. The sound of the wind was muted, and the sense of safety was almost palpable. Pallavi guided Draupadi to a cushioned seat by the fire and sat beside her, still holding her hand.

As they sat in silence, the scene shifted to the forest where Karn sat beneath a sprawling tree, his form barely visible in the shadows.

The cold winds ruffled his hair and bit into his skin, but he remained still, his body and mind trained to endure such hardships. His thoughts were with Draupadi, and the child she carried. The exile was a necessary penance, one he accepted with stoic resolve, but the longing for his wife and unborn child was a fire that no cold could extinguish.

Karn's breath was steady, his mind focused on his meditations. The harsh conditions were but another trial in his path, one he was determined to endure with the same resilience he had shown in countless battles. The storm raged on around him, but within, he was a pillar of strength.

He drew his shawl tighter around him, his eyes closed in a silent meditation. The night was long, and the winds unforgiving, but Karn's spirit remained unbroken. In the quiet of the forest, amidst the storm's fury, he found strength in the knowledge that his sacrifice was not in vain. He would endure, for Draupadi, for their child, and for the hope of a future together.

As the winds howled and the storm raged on, the distance between the palace and the forest seemed to diminish in the shared longing and strength of Draupadi and Karn. Their love and resolve bound them together, even in the harshest of nights.



Did you like the part ?

So, it was actually a prank by Krishna and Subhadra, things look peaceful in Dwarika, at least for now.

What could disrupt this peace ? Perhaps an old nemesis ? Or a family member ?

So, did Pristi had always wanted to be in the position of authority and allowed her brother to indulge in drugs for an opportunity.

What would be the implications when Vikram comes to know about the secrets of his past kept from him ?

How would Pristi deal with the impending chaos.

Duryodhan has started his training, the feud of Anga Pradesh has been resolved, Chitrangada managed to restore peace in her kingdom. Danddhar backed down, Awantika waits for her marriage with Nakul, Makrasur has shown signs of healing, Vikram has got his lost past back, Jhanvi has the support of her family.

Seems like all the troubles are starting to dissapear. But as the rule book of universe states, the life wheel keeps rolling. These problem will give way for new ones, what would those be ?

So Vikram's going to wake up for a huge surprise. And what was in the letter Krishna gave to Arjun ?

Well, answer lies ahead. Keep reading to find out.

Do comment if you have any suggestions.

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