---- The day of the grand feast had arrived, a day of festivity but also the day of their planned escape. Mata Kunti, regal as ever, stood with her five sons—the Pandavas—all dressed in their finest attire. Their presence commanded respect, and together, they hosted the famous rich traders and the key officials of Varanavat with grace and dignity. The bhandara was more than just an event; it was a carefully crafted plan that masked the looming danger beneath the surface.

After the initial pleasantries, Mata Kunti and her sons personally distributed sarees to the women, clothes for the children, and kilos of grains to the people. As Nisha observed this grand act of generosity, she couldn’t help but reflect on the vastness of Hastinapur's wealth. The scale of their kingdom’s economy was truly immense, making her ponder how it sustained such power and influence.

Meanwhile, Nisha was stationed in the kitchen, accompanied by Bharata Bheem and Nakul. Bheem’s hearty appetite had brought him there, eager to taste the dishes being prepared, knowing that after their escape, he might not get to enjoy such luxuries. Nakul, however, trailed closely behind Nisha, more concerned about her safety than the food. Nisha was vigilant, watching every move in the kitchen, ensuring the food was free from poison, for she suspected Purochan’s treachery.

The morning stretched on, and Nisha felt the weariness from being in the kitchen since the first light of dawn. Bheem, ever the food connoisseur, sampled several dishes since the morning, his mood light despite the dark undertones of their situation. Yudhishthir, ever the eldest and most responsible, was busy attending to the guests, his noble demeanor casting a calming presence. Arjun stayed close to him, while Sahadev stood beside Mata Kunti, assisting in distributing items to the women who had come for the bhandara.

By midday, the feast began. The townspeople ate heartily, and even Purochan, indulged in the delicious kheer with his wife. With the feast in full swing, Nisha took a moment to rest. She retreated to her room, her body heavy with exhaustion after having eaten. She lay down for a few moments, letting the quiet wash over her before she decided to walk along the corridor toward the festivities.

As she wandered through the halls, a hand suddenly grabbed her and pulled her toward the staircase leading to the rooftop. Startled, she looked up and whispered, "Nakul?"

Nakul, with his finger pressed to his lips, gestured for her to stay silent and follow him. She complied, curious yet trusting. When they reached the rooftop, she saw her weapons lying there, the very weapons she practiced with on this rooftop each day.

Nakul pulled a sack from his waist, one typically used to store and distribute grain. "Iss mein apne shastra rakh ke le jao, Nisha. Iss prakar tumpe kisiko shaq nahi hoga." (Place your weapons in this sack, Nisha. This way, no one will suspect you.)

Nisha nodded, her mind racing with thoughts of their plan. She glanced at Nakul, her gaze lingering a bit longer than usual. A heavy sigh escaped her, a quiet expression of her fatigue, which also showed nervousness. Sensing her exhaustion and nervousness, Nakul stepped forward, wrapping one arm around her back and placing his other hand gently on her head. He drew her closer, letting her rest her head against his broad shoulder.

For a moment, Nisha tensed, unused to this intimate closeness, but soon, she relaxed. In Nakul's embrace, she felt an unfamiliar sense of calm and comfort. The moment felt endless, their breaths synchronized, creating a silent rhythm. In this brief respite, Nisha found solace, almost pleasure in the quiet connection between them.

Their tranquil moment was interrupted by the sharp cry of an eagle in the distance. Nisha raised her head and met Nakul’s gaze, who was already looking at her. They turned toward the sound and saw the eagle soaring through the sky, clutching a small palm leaf in its claws.

Realizing it could be a message from Shakuni, Nisha swiftly reached for her bow and arrow. With the precision of a skilled archer, she released the arrow, letting it fly just beneath the eagle’s claws. Startled, the bird dropped the letter onto the rooftop before flying away.

Nakul watched in awe and concern, his face a mix of pride and relief. "Waah, Nisha! Aaj maine tumhari teerandazi bhi dekh li. Nishandeh tum Bharata Arjun ki shishya ho." (Wow, Nisha! Today I’ve witnessed your archery skills as well. Without a doubt, you are a true disciple of Bharata Arjun.)

Nisha smiled, grateful for the compliment. "Dhanyawad, Nakul." (Thank you, Nakul.)

She walked over, picked up the palm leaf, and unfolded it. The message read: Ajj din ke teesre peher ke paschat yagya shuru karna. (Today, after the third watch of the day, the sacrificial fire must begin.)

Realizing the gravity of the message, Nisha and Nakul rushed to inform Yudhishthir. The feast was nearing its end, but the crowd still lingered, and the Pandavas, along with Mata Kunti, had eaten. In Yudhishthir’s chamber, Nakul handed him the palm leaf. Yudhishthir’s eyes widened as he grasped the meaning.

He looked at Mata Kunti with grave seriousness. "Matashri, yeh mama Shakuni dwara likhit Purochan ke liye sandesh hai. Isme bhavan ko 'teesre peher ke uprant,' yani shaam ke baad, aur 'yagya shuru karne ka' arth agg lagana hai. Yani humein iss se pehle bhavan ko agg lagake nikalna hai." (Mother, this is a message written by Uncle Shakuni for Purochan. It says to set fire to the house after the third watch of the day, meaning after dusk. We must set the house ablaze and escape before that.)

Everyone nodded in agreement, their faces tense with the knowledge of what lay ahead. Yudhishthir turned to Nisha and instructed her to leave with the other women RIGHT NOW. Mata Kunti handed Nisha a simple cotton saree to help disguise her. Nakul gave her the sack which contained her weapons two swords and one bow with some arrows. With her weapons hidden in the grain sack, Nisha prepared to leave.

As she reached the end of the palace corridor, Nakul placed his hand gently on her shoulder as if saying 'stay carefull and safe'. Nisha, in return, rested her palm on his hand, offering silent reassurance that everything would be alright and they should escape carefully with mata kunti. brief moment of connection lingered, a silent promise amidst the storm of uncertainty.

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