As the first rays of dawn bathed Hastinapur in golden light, Niyati and Bhima set out for Dwaraka. The chariot wheels creaked softly against the road, and the gentle breeze carried the faint hum of birdsong. Bhima, ever curious and full of energy, broke the silence.

"Niyati," he began, his voice tinged with curiosity and apprehension. "Can you tell me more about my Guru Balarama? I know he agreed to teach me, but do you think he'll like me?"

Niyati smiled, her gaze fixed on the horizon. "Balarama Dau is no ordinary mentor, Bhima. He is strength personified—firm as a mountain, calm as a river, yet capable of storms. His mace is an extension of his will, and his wisdom is unmatched. But more than strength, he values humility and discipline. Arrogance won't impress him, Bhima. He will take you under his wing if you approach him with reverence and eagerness to learn."

Bhima frowned slightly, leaning back. "Humble? You make it sound like I'm always boasting."

Niyati chuckled softly. "You are. But that's exactly why you'll grow under his guidance. He'll shape your raw strength into true power."

Bhima grinned, his mood lightening. "And what about Guru Mata—Revati Bhabhishree? How did she end up marrying him? I can't imagine anyone daring to court Guru Balarama!"

Niyati's laughter rang out like the chiming of temple bells. "Oh, that's quite the tale," she said, her eyes sparkling.

"Good," Bhima said, leaning forward eagerly. "We have time, so tell me!"

"Patience, Bhima," Niyati teased. "Let's see if you can practice that on this journey before Balarama Dau teaches you anything!"

Niyati began softly, her voice carrying the weight of timeless tales. "Maharaj Kakudmi, the king of Kushasthali, was a man of vision and wisdom. He was the son of Revata and father to the beautiful and talented Revati. Feeling that no mortal man was worthy of his daughter, he took her to Brahmaloka, the abode of Brahma Dev, to seek divine counsel for her marriage."

Bhima's eyes widened, intrigued, as she continued.

"When they arrived, Brahma Dev was engrossed in a performance by the Gandharvas. They waited patiently, and when the performance ended, Maharaj Kakudmi presented his request, listing potential suitors for Revati. But Brahma Dev laughed. Time flows differently in Brahmaloka, and while waiting, 27 chatur-yugas had passed on Earth. All those suitors had perished, and the world as they knew it was gone."

Bhima's jaw dropped in disbelief. "Twenty-seven chatur-yugas? That's—"

"Eons," Niyati interjected with a nod. "Brahma Dev explained that Maharaja Kakudmi's friends, ministers, armies, and kingdom had vanished. Kali Yuga was near, and Revati needed a husband soon. He suggested Balarama Dau as her match—someone worthy of her."

Niyati's voice softened as she spoke of their return. "When they came back, the Earth was unrecognizable. The people were smaller, weaker, and less wise. Yet amidst this transformed world, they found Balarama Dau. Though Revati was taller and larger than life, Balarama tapped her shoulder with his plough, and she adapted to his time, shrinking to match the stature of this yuga. Their union was celebrated with joy."

Bhima leaned back, stunned. "Marrying across yugas... I can't even imagine that."

Niyati's lips curved into a knowing smile. "When love and destiny call Bhima, nothing else matters. Perhaps one day, you'll marry someone you'd never imagined."

Bhima turned away, his ears reddening at her teasing. "Niyati, don't say such things!"

Bonds of the Heart

She chuckled at his flustered state, the warmth of her laughter mingling with the gentle rhythm of the chariot wheels.

After their lovely lunch, Bhima's curiosity sparked again. "Now tell me about your brother Krishna. I've heard so many stories since childhood. Did he really kill all those Asuras? And is it true he lifted Govardhan Parvat with his little finger? I've also heard about his marriages—Devi Rukmini, Devi Satyabhama, Devi Jambavati. Tell me about them!"

Niyati shook her head with an amused smile. "You never learn patience, do you, Bhima?" she teased, her laughter light and teasing, softening the weight of her words.

"Brata Krishna... where do I even begin? He is unlike anyone you'll ever meet. His skin is like the bottomless night sky, glowing with a radiance that feels both comforting and mysterious, like the promise of rain. And his eyes—oh, Bhima—those eyes! They are like lotus petals, so vast and deep that they seem to hold the entire universe. When he looks at you, it's as though he knows every thought and every emotion you've ever felt, yet he still accepts you completely.

His smile... it's mischievous, teasing, and so full of love that it can make you forget all your worries. That smile isn't just an expression; it's a melody, a reassurance that everything will be alright, no matter how dark things seem.

His voice is like a flute's music, soothing and enchanting. His words carry wisdom beyond lifetimes when he speaks, yet they are laced with simplicity and humor, making even the most profound truths feel like playful riddles.

But more than all this, Bhima, Brata Krishna, lies in our hearts. He is both a protector, trickster, warrior, and peacemaker. He dances with the gopis under the moonlight and strategizes for dharma on the battlefield. He can lift the Govardhan Parvat with a single finger and bow humbly before an elder. He is infinite, yet he feels so close, so personal as if he exists just for you.

To know Krishna is to see that love and dharma are not separate—they are the same. He is the thread that binds everything together, Bhima, the heartbeat of this universe."

Niyati chuckled softly, her smile deepening as she looked at Bhima. "His marriages, each one, are not just tales of union but of destiny, courage, and divine connection."

Bhima grinned, settling comfortably in the chariot. "I'm all ears, Niyati."

She paused, the chariot's wheels creaking softly beneath the weight of her words. "Bhabhishree Rukmini... ah, she was a goddess among mortals, her beauty radiating like the moon on a clear night. When she heard of Brata Krishna's valour and virtues, her heart yearned for him. Yet, fate wasn't kind at first—her brother Rukmi, blinded by hatred for Brata Krishna, sought to marry her to Shishupala, a union she loathed.

But Bhabhishree Rukmini was no mere damsel. Her spirit burned brighter than the sun. With trembling hands and a resolute heart, she penned a letter to Brata Krishna, pouring out her love and calling upon him to save her. And Brata Krishna... he couldn't resist such a call. How could he? Her love summoned him, Bhima, more potent than any bond of the physical world.

When the day came, Bhabhishree Rukmini approached the temple, her every step a prayer, her every breath a plea. Brata Krishna arrived like a storm, his chariot thundering through the streets of Vidarbha. He swept her off her feet, both literally and figuratively, carrying her away while the world watched in stunned silence. The kings who dared pursue him faced the wrath of Brata Krishna's bow, his arrows flying swiftly and accurately. Even Rukmi, her brother, tried to halt them. Brata Krishna defeated him but spared his life for Bhabhishree Rukmini's sake, for her tears melted even the fiercest of his resolves."

Bhima's face softened, his fierce demeanor giving way to quiet admiration. "She must have been remarkable to inspire such devotion," he murmured.

Niyati nodded, her smile widening. "She was. Their bond was one of purity, trust, and eternal love. And then came Bhabhishree Satyabhama and Bhabhishree Jambavati..."

Her tone shifted, growing more playful as she spoke. "Satyabhama was fire personified—proud, strong, and unyielding. She was the daughter of Satrajit, whose greed once caused a storm in Dwarka. Satrajit possessed the Syamantaka jewel, a gem of unimaginable brilliance gifted by the Suryadev himself.

Brata Krishna, captivated by the jewel's glory, requested it for the Kingdom and Matamaha Ugrasena. Satrajit, blinded by pride and greed, refused. But greed is a dangerous companion, Bhima, which leads to rumors, accusations, and battles.

The jewel then passed to Prasena, Satrajit's brother, who wore it on a hunt. But fate struck—a lion killed Prasena and took the jewel to its lair, only to fall prey to Jambavan, the mighty devotee of Rama. He claimed the jewel for his child to play with.

When rumors in Dwarka accused Brata Krishna of treachery, he set out to clear his name. He followed the trail of death and destruction, finally reaching Jambavan's cave. A battle shook the mountains—27 days of relentless combat between the Brata Krishna and the great Jambavan. With every blow, respect grew. (Without revealing when Jambavan recognized Krishna as none other than his cherished Rama) He humbly returned the jewel and offered his daughter Jambavati to Brata Krishna.

She leaned closer, her eyes sparkling as if reliving the moment. "When Brata Krishna returned to Dwarka with the jewel, Satrajit was overcome with guilt. To atone, he offered both the jewel and his daughter, Satyabhama. In his magnanimity, Brata Krishna accepted Bhabhishree Satyabhama as his wife but refused the jewel, restoring it to Satrajit."

Niyati's voice softened, her tone laced with awe. "Each of these marriages, Bhima, wasn't just a union of hearts but a triumph of dharma, love, and redemption. Brata Krishna taught us that love isn't just about two souls coming together through Bhabhishree Rukmini's faith, Bhabhishree Satyabhama's courage, and Bhabhishree Jambavati's devotion. It's about overcoming obstacles, nurturing trust, and upholding the principles of dharma, even in the face of chaos."

Bhima sat in stunned silence, his robust frame still as her words settled over him. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, almost reverent. "Krishna isn't just a man... he's a force, a guide, and a miracle."

Niyati smiled, her gaze distant as if lost in the memory of her brother's divine radiance. "He is, Bhima. He is the thread that holds this universe together, the melody in every heart, the light in every darkness. To know him is the glimpse of infinity itself."

Niyati felt a sudden, familiar warmth flood her mind, like the soft embrace of a gentle breeze. It was him—Krishna. His presence was unmistakable, a spark of divine mischief and boundless love.

"Telling my stories again, little sister?" his voice teased, slipping effortlessly into her thoughts like the notes of a flute weaving through the air.

A soft smile curved Niyati's lips as she replied in her mind, her tone playful yet affectionate. "What can I do, Brata? Time must pass, and talking about you seems the easiest way."

Krishna chuckled, his laughter ringing like the first drop of rain on parched earth. "No one—absolutely no one—has ever dared to claim they tell my stories just to pass the time. Except you, Niyati."

"And what else are sisters for?" she retorted, her thoughts dancing with mischief, mirroring his.

He sighed dramatically, the sound laced with mock indignation. "Well, if you want to know what brothers are for, it is finishing every last pot of Makhan in Dwarka at this very moment."

"Try it and see what happens," she shot back, her smile widening. Then, her tone softened, the longing in her heart spilling into her thoughts. "I miss you, Brata. It's time we both sit and talk properly."

Krishna's voice, now tender and soothing, responded like the gentle caress of a breeze on a hot day. "I'm waiting, sister."

The connection lingered, warm and profound, as if the universe held its breath to listen. Despite the physical distance, their bond felt closer than ever, a thread of love and understanding that neither time nor space could sever.

In the space Between

As Bhima and Niyati entered the grand city of Dwarka, Bhima's jaw dropped in awe. The golden city shimmered like a divine jewel set against the azure waves of the sea. Lined with intricately carved buildings and bustling with joyous citizens, the streets glowed with a radiance that seemed otherworldly.

The aroma of fragrant flowers mingled with the salty breeze from the ocean, creating an intoxicating blend. White marble palaces adorned with gilded domes and emerald-green gardens stood tall and majestic, reflecting the brilliance of Krishna's kingdom. The constant hum of life, laughter, and devotion made Dwarka feel alive, as if the city breathed in harmony with its divine protector.

As they reached the palace, Balarama and Krishna stood waiting, their presence as welcoming as the rising sun. Balarama's imposing figure exuded strength and warmth, while Krishna's radiant smile and lotus-like eyes made the air around him seem lighter. The brothers greeted them with open arms, their joy evident.

Bhima stepped forward, his expression shifting from awe to reverence as he approached Balarama. Bowing deeply, he said, "Pranipat, Gurudeva."

Balarama placed his large, comforting hand on Bhima's head, blessing him. "Rise, Bhima. May your strength and dharma always shine." Then, he pulled Bhima into a hearty embrace, his affection as solid and unshakable as his mace.

Bhima then turned to Krishna, his voice carrying the same reverence. "Pranipat, Krishna."

Krishna's eyes twinkled with mischief, but his tone was warm. "Pranipat, Brata Bhima." He stepped forward, wrapping Bhima in a brotherly embrace that spoke of love and respect.

Niyati stood nearby with a soft smile, observing the warmth between the brothers. Both Balarama and Krishna turned to her, their expressions softening further. They stepped forward, embracing her together, their affection unmistakable.

His voice tinged with concern and familiarity, Krishna asked, "Too much tired?"

Niyati sighed, her voice carrying an exhaustion that went beyond the physical. "Like never before," she replied, her tone quiet but firm. Without another word, she turned and walked away, her steps heavy with an unspoken burden.

Krishna stood there, his playful demeanor giving way to a rare moment of worry. For a brief instant, his divine insight faltered. Even he and Mahadev could no longer see Niyati's mortal future. Her path had become a mystery, her decisions known only to herself. A deep unease settled in Krishna's heart, a concern for his sister growing with every passing moment.

Meanwhile, Vasudeva, Devaki, Rohini, and Subhadra greeted Niyati with open arms. Their embraces carried the warmth of a family reunited after too long. Vasudeva, ever the concerned brother, asked Bhima about Kunti. Bhima shared news of her well-being, his words reassuring Vasudeva and the others.

As the night deepened, Krishna personally showed Bhima a grand room, its walls adorned with murals depicting the Vrishini dynasty's victories and Krishna's divine leelas. Krishna's words were cryptic but filled with promise. "By the time you come next, Brata Bhima, things will have changed in Dwarka."

With that, the palace quieted as everyone retired for the night. Yet, amidst the stillness, two familiar figures tiptoed their way to the kitchen, their eyes gleaming with mischief. Krishna and Niyati, despite the weight of the day, couldn't resist the allure of the Makhan.

Under the soft glow of the moonlight, Niyati carried the pots of freshly churned Makhan and strolled toward the shoreline, the rhythmic crashing of waves echoing her thoughts. Her favourite retreat, the sea, felt like an endless canvas on which she could lose herself. Watching her leave with an amused yet knowing smile, Krishna followed quietly.

As he caught up, he spoke gently, "This time, I won't fight for it. Have it. Enjoy it, Niyati."

Niyati turned, her smile soft yet teasing as she replied, "It's rare to see you surrender, Brata." Sitting down on the cool sand, she took a dollop of Makhan and, to Krishna's surprise, fed him with her own hands. He accepted it, savoring the taste and the quiet bond they shared.

After silence, Krishna's voice broke the stillness, heavy with concern. "What's happening, Niyati? I don't see anything about you anymore. It's as if the timelines no longer bind you, and yet... sometimes, I feel you're driving time forward faster than it should be. Events are unravelling too soon, and it worries me. This time, I'm worried for you more than ever."

Understanding the depth of his unease, Niyati met his gaze, her voice steady and filled with quiet resolve. "Do not worry, Brata. Whether the events of this time flow swiftly or slowly, the Mahabharata will always align with the timeline dictated by Ved Vyas and written by Ganesha. Dwaipayana knows how to preserve it, and that is enough."

Krishna studied her face for a moment before asking the question that had been weighing on his heart. "And what about your future on earth, Niyati?"

"What about my future?" she countered calmly yet firmly.

"You need to marry Yuyutsu," Krishna said, his voice carrying authority and compassion.

Her expression hardened slightly as she replied, "I can't, Brata. I am not forging mortal relationships with anyone. Why do you think I address the Pandavas by their names? Whenever I assign a relation, it binds me to them in ways that make neutrality impossible. Remaining neutral is already a challenge, Krishna, and I marvel at how you manage to hold relationships together despite knowing everything. I can't do that. Niyati was born alone and will remain alone."

Krishna's eyes glistened with unshed tears as he whispered, "Niyati... you are changing too much. Your detachment is growing, and it worries me. Let people make their own decisions. Do you think I don't know about Drona's sudden curse or how Rishi Bharadwaj was introduced into this tale seemingly out of nowhere? I see your hand in these things, and it frightens me."

His concern deepened, his voice trembling. "You and I both know that every time you interfere with the ultimate Niyati, you endure pain beyond comprehension. You hide it well, but I see it. Every second you intervene, it's as if infinite Brahmastras strike you. How are you enduring this? Why are you doing this to yourself?"

Reaching out, Niyati wiped the tears from his eyes with a tenderness she could only show. Her voice was calm, but there was an unmistakable undercurrent of sorrow and determination. "Narayan, you are the only one who has seen my supreme form beyond comprehension before anyone else. I have been your sister since the beginning of you, and that will never change. But we both know how this story ends and what Dharma demands of us."

She paused, her gaze unwavering. "As for my decisions, people will not remember divine interventions or warnings. I must guide them, whether they choose to listen or not. If they fail this time, Narayan, this Mahabharata will be erased from existence, and all the lessons it carries will vanish. That is why I must act. The problem is not the warnings but failing to heed them."

Krishna sat silently, the weight of her words sinking in like the tides surrounding them. He looked at his sister with an expression torn between love and helplessness, understanding her burden yet wishing he could share it.

Under the moon's soft luminescence, Krishna broke the heavy silence with a request that startled Niyati. "Make me come into the story soon," he said, a rare seriousness laced with his teasing tone.

Niyati blinked, surprised. "Ah? You know that cannot happen. If I am hastening events, it's only for things that can be altered. Not everything. You cannot meet all the Pandavas now—it's not how the story unfolds, Brata."

Krishna leaned in slightly, his signature mischief returning. "You can bring in people who aren't directly connected to the story, let them teach everyone, you let them disappear. But me, the protagonist? I can't come a little earlier. What kind of fairness is this, Devi Niyati?"

She chuckled softly, shaking her head. "Those people, Brata, are essential because they will fade away. People won't remember Drona's curse or the true intricacies of his downfall. You know how he'll die—in the hands of Drupada's son. But these events matter for the people in this timeline, not for Kaliyuga. And you speak as if the people of Kaliyuga will inherit the complete Mahabharata. Half of it will be lost. They'll read what suits them and interpret it however they like. I'm simply trying to ensure they understand the right things before they misunderstand everything."

Krishna sighed, his smile tinged with regret. "I should never have agreed to the penance of the celestial beings for you. If I had known, it would come to this..."

"Don't say that," Niyati interjected gently. "You know it was bound to happen, Brata. It was meant to be."

He held her gaze, his tone firm and resolute. "Niyati, do not change anything in my story or the pain this family must endure. Promise me, sister. When the time comes, let it all happen as it must. For me, for this family, and Dwaraka. Please. It is my duty as your brother to ask this of you. You're carrying so much—more than anyone in the universe will ever know."

Her eyes glistened with tears she hadn't allowed herself to shed until now. "You know, Brata, your knowing is enough for me. That is all I need."

Krishna stepped closer and gently placed his hands on her shoulders. "Promise me, Niyati."

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she whispered, "I, Niyati, promise I won't alter your story. Your end will unfold the way you want it to."

Overcome, she sobbed quietly, and Krishna pulled her into a warm embrace. "We'll navigate this together, my sister. You're not alone."

As the two shared this tender moment, another deep and all-encompassing voice resonated in their minds. "I'm also part of this, Narayan and Devi Niyati," said Mahadev, his presence reassuring me.

Despite their tears, Krishna and Niyati chuckled softly, their hearts lightened by Mahadev's familiar warmth. In that shared moment, the divine siblings and the destroyer of worlds found solace in each other's strength, ready to face destiny's trials.