The golden chariots of the Pandavs rolled through the grand gates of the royal palace of Anga, their arrival marked by the blowing of conch shells and the beating of ceremonial drums. Garlands of fragrant flowers adorned the palace, their vibrant colors weaving a tapestry of festivity, but for some, the air was heavy with an unspoken tension.

Sahdev, the youngest of the Pandavs, stepped down from the chariot with a sombre expression, his gaze fixed on the lavishly decorated palace that awaited them. Beside him, Nakul and Bheem exchanged a glance. Sensing their brother's gloom, they flanked him, throwing their arms around his shoulders in a show of camaraderie.

Nakul :- What’s this, little brother? Gloom at a wedding celebration? You should be smiling! Don’t worry, I’ll help you talk to Pristi when the moment’s right.

He whispered with a mischievous grin. Bheem, ever the protector, patted Sahdev’s back with a reassuring strength.

Bheem :- And if Pristi wishes to be with you, I’ll make sure it happens—no matter what anyone says.

His voice carried a quiet promise, his tone resolute. Sahdev managed a small smile, but the sadness in his eyes remained. As the Pandavs and their retinue entered the palace courtyard, they were met by a delegation of Anga’s ministers and courtiers, who bowed low in respect and extended a formal welcome. The grandeur of the palace, with its towering arches and glittering decorations, reflected the importance of the occasion.

At a distance, standing apart from the crowd, Vikram observed the procession. His sharp eyes zeroed in on Draupadi, who walked ahead of others with her son. Her beauty and confidence were undeniable, but for Vikram, they were a painful reminder of his humiliation. His hands clenched into fists, his jaw tightening as a wave of anger surged within him.

Vikram :- The audacity. She dares to come here, flaunting her arrogance.

He muttered under his breath, his voice seething with contempt. Vikram turned away abruptly, unwilling to let his fury disrupt the carefully constructed façade of the celebration.

Inside the palace, the Pandavs and Draupadi were escorted to the main hall, where the elders of Hastinapur awaited them. Dhritrashtra, seated on a high chair, offered a polite greeting, his blind eyes unseeing but his voice measured. Beside him stood Gandhari, Vidur, Kunti, and the venerable Bhism, their presence lending an air of formality to the gathering.

Across the hall, the Kauravs stood in a tight cluster, their expressions betraying a mix of disdain and calculated indifference. Duryodhan’s gaze was sharp, and Dussasan’s smirk betrayed his satisfaction at the unfolding events. Kunti, sensing the tension in the air, quickly stepped forward.

Kunti :- Come, my sons. Let us not linger here.

She said gently, her voice filled with motherly authority. She led the Pandavs and Draupadi away, her actions a subtle but deliberate attempt to prevent any confrontation. The hall quieted as the two factions separated, but the unspoken animosity hung in the air, a reminder of the fragile peace that bound them.

As they moved toward the inner chambers, Draupadi glanced back briefly, her gaze meeting Vikram’s for the briefest moment. The hatred in his eyes was unmistakable, and though she did not flinch, her expression turned thoughtful.

In the ornate corridors of Anga, the celebration continued, but beneath the surface, the currents of unease swirled, foreshadowing the storms yet to come.



The soft glow of the oil lamps cast flickering shadows across Pristi’s chamber, but the warm light did little to chase away the cold unease she felt. Seated on the edge of her ornate bed, she stared at her palms, the intricate patterns of mehndi swirling over her skin. The rich scent of henna lingered in the air, a stark reminder of the celebrations outside. Laughter and music filtered faintly through the stone walls, but inside her chamber, a heavy silence prevailed.

She should be happy. Today, she would become the bride of a powerful prince, securing an alliance that would benefit her family and her kingdom. Yet, her heart felt heavy, as if an unseen weight pressed down on her. The thought of Prince Dussasan, the man she would marry, brought no joy, only a lingering discomfort she could not shake.

A soft rustle of fabric broke her reverie. She looked up and caught movement in the large mirror before her. Standing behind her was Sahdev, his face solemn, his eyes filled with a mix of sadness and determination.

Pristi :- Sahdev.

She whispered, her voice barely audible over the faint sounds of celebration. He took a step closer, his reflection in the mirror drawing nearer.

Sahdev :- Pristi.

He said softly, his tone almost pleading. She rose from the bed and turned to face him, her movements slow and hesitant. For a moment, they simply looked at each other, an unspoken tension thick in the air.

Sahdev :- Why are you doing this?

He asked, his voice breaking the silence. His question hung between them, heavy with emotion. Pristi turned away, her gaze falling to the floor.

Pristi :- Because I have to, I cannot disobey my brother’s wish. This is what he wants, and I owe him everything.

She replied, her tone steady but laced with sadness. Sahdev’s brows furrowed, and he stepped closer.

Sahdev :- But what about what you want? What about your happiness? How can you agree to this when your heart isn’t in it?

She clenched her fists, her mehndi-stained palms trembling slightly.

Pristi :- It doesn’t matter what I want. My duty to my family comes first. My brother has done so much for me—this is the least I can do for him.

His expression darkened, and his voice dropped to a whisper.

Sahdev :- Then why didn’t you tell me? Not a single letter, Pristi. Not a word. Why?

Her shoulders slumped, and she turned her face away, unwilling to meet his gaze.

Pristi :- I had nothing to say. It just… happened.

Sahdev took a deep breath, trying to steady his emotions.

Sahdev :- Pristi, this marriage is a mistake. Bhrata Dussasan— do you really think you'll be happy marrying him, tell me...

She shook her head, her voice trembling.

Pristi :- I love my brother, Sahdev. I cannot hurt him. Please, don’t ask me to.

His chest tightened as he watched her struggle with her emotions. Finally, he stepped closer and spoke, his voice low and raw.

Sahdev :- I didn’t come here to ask you to run away, Pristi. I wouldn’t do that to you. But I need you to know something—I’ve started to fall in love with you.

Her breath hitched, and she turned to face him, her eyes wide with shock.

Pristi :- Sahdev…

Sahdev :- I wouldn’t ask you to abandon your family, I wouldn’t want you to regret your choice. But I couldn’t leave without telling you how I feel.

He continued, his voice breaking slightly. Pristi opened her mouth to speak, but no words came. Her hands trembled as she struggled to process his confession. Sahdev took a step back, his expression pained but resolute.

Sahdev :- The decision is yours, Pristi. Whatever you choose, I’ll respect it.

With that, he turned and quietly slipped out of the chamber, leaving her standing there, stunned and conflicted. In the shadowed corridor outside, Nakul stood waiting, his sharp eyes scanning for any sign of trouble. As Sahdev emerged, Nakul stepped forward, placing a reassuring hand on his brother’s shoulder.

Nakul :- Did you tell her?

He asked in a low voice. Sahdev nodded silently, his gaze distant.

Nakul :- And?

Sahdev :- I left the decision to her.

He replied, his voice heavy with resignation. Nakul sighed, giving his younger brother a sympathetic pat.

Nakul :- Let’s go before someone sees us.

The two brothers moved swiftly and silently through the dimly lit halls, disappearing into the shadows as the celebrations outside continued, oblivious to the storm brewing within Pristi’s heart.



The warm rays of sunlight filtered through the intricately carved latticework of Pristi’s chamber, illuminating her reflection in the ornate mirror before her. Pristi sat silently, dressed in her bridal attire, her rich red and gold saree draped elegantly over her shoulder. The jewels she wore sparkled brilliantly, but her expression remained subdued. A palace maid fussed with her hair while Pristi absently adjusted her bangles, her mind a storm of conflicting emotions.

The sound of footsteps interrupted her thoughts, and she looked up to see her nephew, Vasuhoma, stepping into the chamber. The young prince of Anga was barely sixteen, but his sharp eyes carried a wisdom far beyond his years. He stopped just inside the doorway, his gaze softening as he took in her appearance.

Vasuhoma :- You look beautiful, Bua.

He said with a warm smile, his voice tinged with affection. Pristi managed a small smile in return.

Pristi :- Thank you, Vasuhoma.

He walked closer, his hands clasped behind his back.

Vasuhoma :- But… You don’t look happy.

He hesitated, searching her face. Pristi’s eyes narrowed slightly, her lips tightening.

Pristi :- What do you mean?

She asked, though her voice lacked its usual sharpness. Vasuhoma shrugged, lowering himself onto a cushioned stool beside her.

Vasuhoma :- I mean you always have this glow when you’re happy. That smile you get when you’re truly excited about something. I don’t see it today.

She turned her attention back to the mirror, her fingers toying with a strand of pearls.

Pristi :- It’s my wedding day, Vasuhoma. I’m nervous, that’s all.

The young prince tilted his head, unconvinced.

Vasuhoma :- No, Bua. I know what nervousness looks like. This… this feels different.

Pristi frowned and glanced at him, her voice a little sharper.

Pristi :- You’re too observant for your own good.

Vasuhoma chuckled softly but didn’t back down.

Vasuhoma :- Maybe. But I noticed something else too.

Pristi :- What?

Vasuhoma :- You looked happy when Sahdev was around.

He said, his words careful but firm. Pristi stiffened, her hands freezing mid-motion. She turned to face him fully, her expression cautious.

Pristi :- Vasuhoma, this marriage is what my brother wants. It’s my duty to obey him. And Sahdev…

She hesitated, the words catching in her throat. Vasuhoma leaned forward, his gaze steady.

Vasuhoma :- Bua, I know you love your brother. But I also know you. You’re not happy about this. And I’ll be honest, I don’t trust the Kauravs. Something about this arrangement feels wrong. Like there’s more to it than they’re saying.

Pristi stared at him, her mind spinning.

Pristi :- What should I do, Vasuhoma? What do you think is right?

The young prince sighed, his voice gentle but firm.

Vasuhoma :- I can’t tell you what to do, Bua. That’s your decision. But I think you should choose the path that makes you truly happy, not the one that just fulfills someone else’s wishes.

He stood, adjusting his robe.

Vasuhoma :- I just want you to know that I wouldn’t trust the second Kaurav. Or any of them, for that matter. And whatever you choose, I just want you to be happy.

Pristi watched as he turned and walked toward the door, her heart heavy with doubt and uncertainty. Just before leaving, Vasuhoma glanced back, his expression softening.

Vasuhoma :- You deserve to be with someone who makes you smile, Bua. Think about that.

With that, he was gone, leaving Pristi alone with her thoughts and the reflection of a bride who wasn’t sure she was making the right choice.



The grand marriage hall of Anga was a vision of opulence. Richly woven tapestries adorned the walls, golden lamps bathed the room in a warm glow, and the air was thick with the scent of roses and sandalwood. The assembly of royals, courtiers, and ministers buzzed with excitement as they awaited the ceremony that would unite Pristi with Dussasan.

The crowd turned their attention to the entrance as Pristi emerged, clad in an exquisite bridal saree of red and gold. Her jewelry sparkled like the stars, but her expression was unreadable, a careful mask that concealed the storm within her. Beside her walked Vasuhoma, his young face calm yet watchful, his presence a silent reassurance to his aunt.

The assembly erupted in smiles and polite applause as Pristi approached the mandap. Dussasan, seated on a cushion near the sacred fire, looked up at her, a smile playing on his lips. The priest chanted mantras, his voice echoing through the hall.

Pristi’s gaze scanned the crowd briefly, her heart lurching as her eyes met Sahdev’s. He stood at the back of the hall, his face a mix of longing and tension. Their eyes locked, and in that fleeting moment, she felt the weight of her decision pressing down on her. Swallowing hard, she forced herself to look away, but her resolve was already solidifying.

As she reached the stage, Pristi stopped. The hall grew quiet as she turned to look at Dussasan, who was watching her expectantly, gesturing subtly for her to take her seat beside him. Her heart raced, but she steeled herself and turned to her brother, Vikram, who stood near the mandap, beaming with pride. Her voice, though subdued, was firm enough to carry through the hall.

Pristi :- Bhrata. I cannot go through with this marriage.

She began, her tone measured but resolute. The collective gasp from the crowd was deafening. Murmurs and whispers broke out among the attendees as Vikram’s smile froze, his expression quickly hardening into disbelief.

Vikram :- What did you say?

Vikram asked, his voice sharp. Pristi lifted her chin, her eyes shining with determination.

Pristi :- I wish to marry Sahdev, not Dussasan.

The hall fell into stunned silence, the priest’s chanting trailing off as the weight of her words sank in. Dussasan’s expression turned dark with anger, and Duryodhan rose to his feet, his face a mask of fury. Vikram’s voice thundered through the hall.

Vikram :- Pristi! Do you realize what you are saying? Do you understand the consequences of such defiance?

Pristi met his gaze, her voice trembling slightly but resolute.

Pristi :- I understand, brother. But I cannot marry Dussasan. My heart belongs to Sahdev.

The elders in the crowd, including Dhritrashtra and Gandhari, exchanged tense glances. Gandhari spoke first, her tone measured but firm.

Gandhari :- Pristi, this is not a decision you can make on a whim. Think of your duty to your family, your kingdom.

Duryodhan, his voice dripping with disdain, interjected.

Duryodhan :- This is outrageous! Pristi, you dare to insult my brother in front of all of Aryavarth?

Before Pristi could respond, Sahdev stepped forward, his face flushed with emotion but his voice steady.

Sahdev :- This is not Pristi’s fault. If anyone is to blame, it is me.

The room turned their attention to him, and his brothers stepped forward protectively, but Sahdev raised a hand to stop them.

Sahdev :- Let me speak, please.

He said firmly. He turned to the assembly, his voice ringing clear.

Sahdev :- I have loved Pristi in silence, but I could not bear to see her forced into a marriage she does not want. I came here today not to disrupt the ceremony but to respect her choice. And now she has spoken her truth. If you care for her happiness, you will honor it.

Duryodhan strode forward, pointing an accusatory finger at Sahdev.

Duryodhan :- You Pandavs are always meddling, always scheming to humiliate us! You dare to ruin this alliance? To disrupt my brother’s marriage?

Bheem, his temper flaring, stepped forward with a roar.

Bheem :- Watch your tongue, Duryodhan! Don’t think we’ll stand by while you force someone into your games. Pristi deserves better than your brother.

Dussasan rose, his face red with fury.

Dussasan :- You dare insult me, Bheem? Do you think you can dictate who she marries?

The two factions moved closer, their voices rising, tempers igniting like dry kindling. Vidur stepped forward, trying to calm the storm, but his words were drowned out. Kunti and Gandhari exchanged worried glances, while Dhritrashtra’s voice boomed, demanding silence, though it was ignored. It was Bhism’s voice that finally cut through the chaos, his deep baritone commanding attention.

Bhism :- Enough!

The hall grew quiet as Bhism stepped forward, his presence exuding authority.

Bhism :- This is not the time for petty squabbles. We are here to witness a union, not a battlefield. The girl has spoken her mind. Let us not tarnish this occasion further.

Vikram turned to Bhism, his face etched with frustration.

Vikram :- But Gangaputra, this alliance was vital to Anga. How can we—

Bhism held up a hand.

Bhism :- Maharaj Vikram, this alliance cannot stand on forced consent. Pristi has made her choice clear. It is up to you to honor her wishes or disregard them at the cost of her happiness.

The hall buzzed with tension as all eyes turned to Vikram, who stood frozen, his mind racing. Pristi watched him with pleading eyes, her hands trembling as she clutched the edges of her saree.

The hall fell silent as Vikram turned toward his sister, his face a mask of simmering anger and disappointment. The decision Pristi had just announced echoed in his mind, louder than the murmurs of the crowd. He stepped forward, his tone cold and unyielding.

Vikram :- Pristi, if you choose to marry Sahdev, then you must cut ties with this family. You will no longer be a princess of Anga, nor will you have any place in this palace.

He began, his voice firm but heavy with restrained emotion. Gasps rippled through the gathering, and Pristi’s breath hitched. Her eyes widened, and she instinctively reached out toward her brother.

Pristi :- Bhrata, please, don’t do this. I’m not trying to dishonor our family. I just… I just want to follow my heart.

She said, her voice trembling. But Vikram raised a hand, his expression hardening.

Vikram :- Enough, Pristi. I’ve made my decision.

Before Pristi could respond, another voice broke through the tense atmosphere.

Vasuhoma :- Pitashree, this isn’t right.

He said, stepping forward, his youthful voice steady and strong, Vikram turned to his son, his jaw tightening.

Vikram :- Vasuhoma, stay out of this. You don’t understand the weight of what’s happened here.

But the young prince stood his ground.

Vasuhoma :- I understand more than you think, pitashree. And I understand that what you’re doing is unfair to Bua. You speak of dishonor and family loyalty, but do you remember who kept this kingdom together when you couldn’t?

Vikram’s face darkened, but Vasuhoma pressed on, his voice unwavering.

Vasuhoma :- When you were consumed by drink, unable to rule, it was Bua who stepped up. She ran this kingdom with grace and strength, making sure our people were cared for. She didn’t complain, didn’t ask for thanks. She did it because she loves you and this family. And now, when she’s asking for one thing, you’re casting her aside?

The hall was silent, every eye fixed on father and son. Vikram’s anger wavered, replaced by a flicker of guilt, but he remained firm.

Vikram :- This is about more than gratitude, Vasuhoma. This is about alliances, honor, and the future of our kingdom.

Vasuhoma :- And what about Bua’s happiness? Does that mean nothing?

Pristi watched the exchange with tears in her eyes, torn between hope and despair. She stepped toward her brother.

Pristi :- Bhrata, I have always followed your wishes. I never questioned your decisions, not even when they were difficult. Please, don’t force me to choose between my family and my heart.

Vikram clenched his fists, his face a battlefield of emotions, but before he could respond, Sahdev stepped forward. The youngest Pandav folded his hands and addressed Duryodhan with calm sincerity.

Sahdev :- Bhrata Duryodhan, I want you to know that my brothers and I did not come here to insult or belittle your family. That was never our intention. The Pandav family wishes only for love and unity among us all.”

The hall was riveted by Sahdev’s words, his humility disarming even the most furious gazes.

Sahdev :- I will respect whatever decision is taken here today, even if it means that Pristi and I cannot be together. I trust the wisdom of the elders, and I only want what is best for her and for all of us.

Duryodhan stared at him, his expression unreadable, his mind churning. The hall waited in tense silence, unsure of how the Kaurav prince would respond. Then, breaking the quiet, Bheem stepped forward. The massive warrior strode toward Dussasan, who looked up at him with narrowed eyes. To everyone’s surprise, Bheem extended a hand and rested it on Dussasan’s shoulder.

Bheem :- Brother, I owe you an apology. My anger got the better of me earlier, and I spoke out of turn. I was wrong to insult you.

He said, his voice softer than anyone had expected. Dussasan’s eyes widened in shock, but Bheem continued.

Bheem :- Please, I ask you to consider this. Let Sahdev marry Pristi. Not out of weakness or defeat, but out of respect for her wishes. That’s all I ask.

Dussasan looked furious, his body stiff as he stared at Bheem. Before he could respond, Gandhari spoke, her voice calm but firm.

Gandhari :- Pristi, if you loved Sahdev, why did you agree to marry Dussasan in the first place?

She said, turning to the bride. Pristi looked down, shame flooding her face.

Pristi :- I didn’t have the courage to say no, Mata. After everything my brother has done for me, I didn’t want to disappoint him. I thought… I thought I could live with it. But I was wrong.

The hall fell silent again as Gandhari processed her words. Duryodhan, who had been quietly watching the proceedings, suddenly turned to Vikram.

Duryodhan :- Maharaj Vikram, despite what happened here today, know that the bond between Anga and Hastinapur remains strong. You and I are friends and allies, and that will not change.

He said, his voice calm but firm. His statement hung in the air for a moment before he turned and began walking toward the exit. The other Kauravs, stunned by his sudden departure, hesitated before following him. Dussasan stood frozen for a moment, glaring at Bheem. Then, with a furious push, he shrugged off Bheem’s hand. His face twisted with anger, he stormed out of the hall, his footsteps echoing through the tense silence.

The hall, once filled with anticipation and celebration, was now heavy with unspoken words and conflicted emotions. Pristi stood by Sahdev, her heart still racing, while the Pandavs and the elders exchanged tense glances.

The battle of words had ended, but the consequences of this day were only beginning to unfold.



The evening sky outside Balram’s chamber was painted with hues of orange and purple, but within the room, the atmosphere was far from serene. A faint golden light from the oil lamps flickered across the walls, casting long shadows as Krishna and Balram sat facing each other.

Balram leaned forward in his chair, his expression dark with anger. His hands rested on his thighs, fists clenched as he spoke.

Balram :- Kanha, how much longer will you let this farce continue? Pondrak’s arrogance grows unchecked! He dares to call himself the almighty king, your equal, and torments innocent people who refuse to bow before him.

Krishna, in stark contrast to his elder brother, sat with his usual calm demeanor. His peacock-feathered crown gleamed faintly in the lamplight, and a gentle smile played on his lips as he listened. When Balram’s voice quieted, Krishna spoke, his tone measured and soothing.

Krishna :- Dau, I understand your anger. Pondrak’s actions are indeed deplorable. His pride blinds him, and his desire for power knows no bounds. But if we act out of anger, we risk making decisions that serve only to satisfy our emotions, not solve the problem.

Balram’s eyes narrowed, his patience clearly wearing thin.

Balram :- So what do you propose we do? Sit idly while he continues to wreak havoc? Kanha, this is not just an insult to you but to Dwarika itself. Our people look to us for protection.

Krishna leaned forward slightly, his gaze steady as he met Balram’s fiery eyes.

Krishna :- Dau, war is not always the solution, and it should never be the first. A king must act with wisdom, not impulse. If we attack Pondrak now, we validate his claims that I fear his power. We also give his followers a cause to rally behind—a battle fought on his terms.

Balram huffed, his frustration evident.

Balram :- And what do you expect me to tell the people of Dwarika? That we wait for this pretender to bring destruction to our gates?

Krishna’s smile softened, though his voice carried an edge of determination.

Krishna :- Pondrak’s pride and hunger for power will not let him sit idle for long. His need for validation will drive him to challenge us openly. When that time comes, we will fight—not out of anger, but out of necessity. Let him be the one to initiate the war. It will reveal his true nature to the people, and his downfall will be of his own making.

Balram exhaled sharply, his jaw tightening. He knew Krishna’s words carried wisdom, yet the thought of waiting for Pondrak’s next move gnawed at him.

Balram :- You may be patient, Kanha, but I find it difficult to sit by while he continues his charade. You must promise me this: when the time comes, we will strike swiftly and decisively.

Krishna nodded, his expression serene.

Krishna :- You have my word, Dau. When the time comes, justice will prevail. Until then, we must prepare, watch, and wait.

Balram grumbled but leaned back in his chair, his anger slightly tempered by Krishna’s reasoning. Outside, the colors of the evening sky deepened into twilight, mirroring the slow but inevitable march toward confrontation.



Did you like the chapter ?

The first chapter of 2025, a year of new hope begins.

With Sahdev's marriage, now officially all the brothers are married.

What do you think is gonna come up next?

Do comment if you have any suggestions.

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