Five uneventful years passed in the timeline of fate, and much transpired beneath the surface, shaping the great heroes of Bharata.

Vrikodara (Bhima), the third Pandava, spent this time mastering the sword, the mace, and the art of charioteering. His strength now rivalled that of the legendary Dyumatesena. Today was the day his prowess was to be showcased, marking his readiness to return.

But it wasn't only Bhima whose skills had reached their zenith. Niyati had witnessed the remarkable progress of all her brothers. Vasusena, now a vigilant and just ruler, had fortified the kingdom of Anga, whose people lovingly called him "Angaraj." Despite his position as King of Hastinapur, he had poured his heart into Anga, ensuring its prosperity and earning the unwavering devotion of its people.

Yudhishthira, the eldest Pandava, stood out with his impeccable manners, wisdom, and diligence. His actions overshadowed their father's legacy, Pandu, and won him admiration from all corners.

Arjuna had become a beacon of excellence in weapon mastery. His lightness of motion, precision, and expertise in using various weapons—Kshura, Naracha, Vala, and Vipatha—set him apart. Guru Drona declared that none could rival Arjuna's proficiency, sparking admiration and contention.

Niyati had recently received a letter from Sahadeva recounting an incident that illustrated Vasusena's boldness and sense of justice. In the letter, Sahadeva wrote:

"Vasusena, with the utmost respect, addressed Guru Drona during an assembly:

'Guru Drona, I don't think you should make such a claim. While Arjuna is undoubtedly your favourite student, saying there are none equal to him goes against Dharma. Others match his prowess—starting with myself, Yuyutsu, Vasudeva, Rajkumari Niyati, Pitamah Bhishma, Guru Parashurama, and even the divine beings Devraj Indra, Mahadev, and Narayana.

You may undoubtedly call him one of the best, but declaring him the sole best undermines the principles of fairness and Dharma."

The statement had deeply impacted Guru Drona, reminding him of the curse bestowed upon him by his father. Despite the discomfort, he kept his composure. Sahadeva also mentioned in his letter how this act of Vasusena motivated Arjuna to strive for even greater heights, elevating him from the best to unparalleled.

Meanwhile, Sahadeva delved deep into the science of morality and duties under the guidance of Brihaspati, the celestial teacher. Nakula honed his skills as an Atiratha and gained the unique ability to converse with animals, adding a new dimension to his capabilities.

A year ago, the Pandavas had reached such prowess that their fame spread far and wide. Arjuna and his brothers slew the great Sauvira, who had performed a three-year-long sacrifice, and subdued the King of the Yavanas—a feat even their father, Pandu, had failed to achieve. Arjuna single-handedly brought the rebellious Vipula, the King of the Sauviras, to submission and tamed the pride of King Sumitra of Sauvira, also known as Dattamitra.

With Bhima's assistance, Arjuna subdued the kings of the East and South with a single chariot, amassing significant wealth and expanding the Kuru dynasty's influence. The vast booty collected in these campaigns was sent back to Hastinapur, strengthening the dynasty's coffers.

Niyati smiled, recalling Vasusena's magnanimous gesture that followed these conquests. Standing before the court of Hastinapur, Vasusena declared:

"Rajkumar Pandu and Rajkumar Arjuna have fortified the Kuru dynasty as no others have. While Rajkumar Bhima has returned to Dwaraka, Rajkumar Arjuna stands here as a testament to our strength.

Therefore, I, Vasusena, King of Hastinapur, hand over the reins of the South and East to Rajkumar Yudhishthira for oversight from this day forward. The wealth gained by Bhima and Arjuna during these quests will be added to their personal treasuries."

Though some skepticism of this decision was expressed, Vasusena's authority and foresight ensured peace and stability in the court, quelling any dissent before it could take root. His leadership continued to shine as an example of diplomacy and strength, even in the face of challenges.

Krishna appeared in her room, his presence breaking her stream of thoughts. "It's time, Niyati. You must return to Hastinapur. Our paths will cross again soon, but this time..." he paused, his tone growing serious. "Hastinapur brings many trials—Lakshagriha, Bhima's marriage, his encounter with a rakshasa, and most importantly—Panchali."

"Panchali?" Niyati repeated, her voice quiet yet questioning.

Krishna's eyes softened yet held a stern warning. "Don't change it, Niyati. You know we can't."

A faint smile touched her lips. "Brata, you know me better than that."

"I do," Krishna replied, his gaze unwavering. "And that's why I don't fully trust you."

Her smile softened, carrying a trace of solemnity. "Brata, interference is part of my Dharma, too. Guiding and intervening where needed is how I uphold the balance. But I promise I do not take sides nor shield anyone from the fruits of their Karma. Even when I act, I ensure the path remains theirs."

Krishna stepped closer, his voice filled with brotherly concern. "Take care of yourself, Niyati."

She sighed, her resolve firm yet burdened. "From here, the path is theirs to tread. I can only guide them, not change their fate."

Silence hung between them for a moment, heavy with the weight of what lay ahead. Then Krishna spoke softly, "Be strong, sister."

She nodded, her heart heavy yet unyielding.

In no time, Bhima and Niyati arrived in Hastinapur, where a grand reception awaited them. The entire Kuru household stood united at the gates—Pandavas, Kunti, Yuyutsu, Gandhari, and the Kauravas, alongside Mahamantri Suyodhana and the council of ministers.

As Niyati stepped down from the chariot, an almost otherworldly hush fell over the gathering. Five years had passed, and the young Rajkumari had blossomed into an ethereal vision. Her radiant beauty was unparalleled, her luminous eyes holding the wisdom of ages and her every movement exuding regal grace. Her presence was magnetic, commanding reverence even from those who sought to undermine her. Draped in a resplendent saree of deep crimson and gold, she looked less like a mortal and more like a divine entity descended from the heavens. Her composure was unshaken as countless pairs of eyes fixed upon her, unable to look away.

Vasusena and Yudhishthira stepped forward, their expressions filled with pride and affection. "Welcome home, Bhima and Niyati," Vasusena said, his tone warm and commanding. The young warrior's pride swelled as they blessed Bhima, and he sat beside his brothers.

Turning to Niyati, Vasusena addressed her formally, "Rajkumari Niyati, your presence once again graces Hastinapur. We are honored to have you back." She bowed deeply, her calm demeanor concealing the storm brewing within the court. Just as she turned to take her seat, a sharp voice cut through the air.

"How curious indeed!" Mantri Kanika began, his tone laced with mockery. "A Rajkumari of such stature, wandering freely and unwed at her age? This is not just unusual; it is unbecoming. And to think—a maiden travels unaccompanied with a prince, as though traditions mean nothing to her. Maharaja, this behavior is an affront to the values we hold dear. Is this what we expect from the women of Hastinapur?"

Bhima leapt to his feet, rage blazing in his eyes. "Kanika!" he roared, his hand already gripping the hilt of his mace. But before he could act, Niyati placed her hand on his arm, shaking her head. Her silent gesture spoke volumes—strength lay in restraint.

The murmurs in the court grew louder as Kanika continued, his words dripping with scorn.

"Perhaps the Rajkumari believes she is above reproach, untouchable by the rules that bind others. But I ask you, esteemed council, what message does this send to the women of our land? Should they all abandon the dignity of their homes and roam as they please? Should they, too, take the hands of men in public as she does?" His gaze darted to Bhima, his smirk widening.

"And look at how she commands even the mighty Vrikodara! A simple gesture and the great Bhima halt his rage like a tamed beast. Is this the power she wields over him? Or is there more to this relationship than meets the eye?"

A gasp rippled through the court, but Kanika was far from done.

The air in the court turned electric. Arjuna, who had remained silent until now, rose from his seat, his voice cold and cutting. "Mantri Kanika, tread carefully. Do you wish to face the wrath of Shri Krishna and Balarama Dau? Speak another word against my sister, and I will ensure their arrival at these gates."

Kanika laughed mockingly. "Rajkumar Arjuna, no woman in this household has ever dared to flout the norms of decorum. Rajkumari Niyati's silence speaks volumes. Why does she not defend herself? Why must her brothers and cousins always speak on her behalf? Perhaps it is because she knows her actions cannot withstand scrutiny. Or perhaps she believes her beauty will excuse her every misstep. But let me remind this court that beauty is fleeting and cannot mask dishonor."

He paused, letting his words sink in, then added with a sneer, "A woman who cannot abide by tradition, who flouts every boundary, has no place in the royal court. How can she expect respect from others if she cannot respect herself? Maharaja, I urge you to consider the example being set here. If such behavior goes unchecked, what is to stop every maiden in Hastinapur from defying the sacred tenets that hold our society together?"

The room was tense, the air thick with the weight of his accusations. Every word was designed to wound, break her spirit, and provoke a response. His eyes turned toward Niyati, waiting for her to retaliate—or to crumble under the onslaught.

Kunti's heart clenched as Kanika's venomous words echoed through the court, each syllable like a dagger aimed at her beloved niece. Her eyes welled with tears, a mixture of rage and sorrow, as she looked at Niyati, standing proud yet silent, enduring the humiliation with a strength that only deepened Kunti's anguish.

Her gaze shifted to Yuyutsu, who stood rooted in place, his fists clenched but his lips unmoving. His silence stung her, and an overwhelming urge surged within her to protect the girl who was as much her daughter as her own son.

Unable to bear it any longer, Kunti took a step forward, her lips parting as if to speak, but Yudhishthira, standing close, caught her wrist gently, stopping her.

She turned to him, her expression a storm of agony and anger. "Yudhishthira," she whispered, her voice trembling as she leaned closer to him, "How can you let this happen? She is your sister. How can you stand by while she is humiliated like this?"

Yudhishthira met her fiery gaze, his own eyes heavy with the burden of his decision. He replied in a low, calm whisper, "Mata, no. Remember what Niyati told you. Your words carry the weight of destiny. If you speak now, you may bind her to a path she has not chosen. I know you want to reveal her bond with Yuyutsu, but this is not the moment."

Kunti's eyes widened, her breath hitching as she understood the severity of his words. "But Yudhishthira," she murmured, her voice breaking, "I cannot bear to see her dishonored like this. She is enduring so much in silence. How can I stay silent, too?"

Yudhishthira tightened his hold on her wrist, his tone soft yet firm. "This is her trial, Mata. It is her destiny to face these storms. If you intervene, you will take away her choice and her freedom to shape her own path. To speak now would be Adharma."

Kunti closed her eyes, the weight of his words sinking into her heart. Slowly, reluctantly, she stepped back, her hands trembling as they fell to her sides. She glanced at Niyati, her eyes brimming with unshed tears, silently praying for her niece's strength.

Niyati met her gaze, a faint, reassuring smile on her lips. It was a silent promise—one only they could understand—telling Kunti she would endure, stronger than the malice thrown her way.

Kunti swallowed the lump in her throat, her chest heaving as she folded her hands in silent prayer. She turned away, her heart heavy, but her faith in Niyati unshaken.

Inferno of Truth

Niyati's eyes remained closed for a moment longer, her calm demeanor a stark contrast to the storm raging around her. The court held its breath, the tension sharp enough to cut through the air.

Finally, she exhaled slowly and opened her eyes, revealing a blazing fire within them. Her gaze was no longer soft or serene—unyielding, searing, and immovable.

"Anything else, Mantri Kanika?" she asked, her voice low but cutting like the first crack of thunder in a brewing storm. The room seemed to shrink under the weight of her presence.

She stepped forward, her every movement deliberate, her every word precise. "A woman's character," she began, her voice rising with an edge of fury, "is not yours to desecrate. You, a man born of a woman's womb, dare to question the virtue of the very essence that gave your life? Tell me, Kanika, what respect do you show to the mother who birthed you? Or is your heart so corroded by the malice that you've forgotten what it means to honour the divine force that breathes life into this world?"

Her voice thundered through the hall, each word striking like a hammer on an anvil. "History has not been kind to those who dared to disgrace women. Remember Ravana, Kanika—the great king who ruled over Lanka with unmatched might. His empire burned, reduced to ash by the flames of his own arrogance. Remember every soul that fell to ruin because they crossed the line you so easily trample today. Do you think you will escape that same fate?"

She turned slightly, her presence towering over the court as she addressed everyone. "You question my relationships, friendships, my choices?" she asked, her voice laced with icy disdain. "Let me tell you, Kanika—if your soul cannot grasp the sanctity of bonds forged in trust and honour, your mind is too small to understand what purity truly means. To you, every gesture of care is tainted, every act of kindness suspect, because your heart knows only envy, greed, and deceit."

Her eyes locked onto Kanika's, unflinching and merciless. "Now let me reveal your truth, Mantri Kanika. You are a man consumed by jealousy—a dark, festering wound poisons your soul. You stand here, drunk on ambition, but that ambition has curdled into greed, eating away at you like a parasite. You look at others and see them rise, and it sears you like molten iron, for you know you will never match them. You are not content to rise by merit; instead, you seek to pull others down to your level, drowning them in the same swamp of mediocrity where you wallow."

Her voice grew colder and sharper until it felt like the air was freezing around her. "But let me warn you, Kanika—the fire you ignite today will be the fire that consumes you tomorrow. Picture this: flames licking at your flesh, devouring every shred of your existence, as you scream for help. And yet, no one will come. None will dare stand by your side, not your family or allies. Even Agnidev will turn his face away, disgusted by the malice in your soul. You will burn, Kanika, until nothing remains but unrecognizable ashes scattered to the winds, forgotten and unmourn."

The court was deathly silent, the weight of her words pressing down like a storm ready to break. Niyati took a step closer, her gaze still locked on Kanika. "Today, you attempted to stain the dignity of a woman. But let me assure you, Kanika, your words do not define me. They define you. Your hatred, jealousy, and cowardice are the chains that bind you, dragging you toward your doom."

With that, she straightened, her voice softening but losing none of its potency. "Remember this moment, Mantri Kanika, for it will haunt you. The next time you look into a fire, you will see your end in its flames. And when that day comes, you will remember my words—not as a warning, but as a prophecy."

The silence that followed was deafening. The court was paralyzed, every eye fixed on Niyati as she turned, her dignity unscathed, and walked back to her place. The air crackled with an unspoken tension, and Kanika's face was pale, his lips trembling but unable to form a single word.

The storm had passed, but its echoes lingered, forever changing the court.

Kunti stormed through her chambers, her fury palpable as her sons stood frozen in silence. Her gaze locked on Yuyutsu, and she raised her hand to slap him.

Niyati intercepted, her voice calm but firm. "No, Bua."

Kunti's voice cracked with anguish. "Don't stop me, Putri! My sons told me to stay silent because it's your dharma. But what about Karna? Isn't he born to protect you? Then why did he stand still? Why won't you both marry? And now this? He is yours, right? Then why didn't he act? Don't tell me it's his dharma. A partner—no, any man—should safeguard a woman's honour. Those who cannot are nothing but selfish monsters under the name of Dharma!"

Niyati smiled gently, calming her rage, and stepped toward Yuyutsu. She took his hands, revealing blood dripping from his clenched fists.

Kunti gasped, her anger replaced by maternal concern. "What happened, Putra? Why didn't you say anything?"

Yuyutsu's eyes softened, his thoughts heavy. For this love, Mata, I, Mahadev would have gladly taken your slap. This is the love I never thought I'd know, but as Yuyutsu I do.

"Tell me, Putra!" Kunti demanded, her tears betraying her heartbreak.

Niyati answered in his stead, her voice steady and chilling. "He is agonized by the humiliation I endured. In that court, he wasn't silent. He was holding himself back. If Yuyutsu had let his rage loose, Hastinapur would have burned to ashes in moments. Mark my words, Bua—never provoke him to such an extent. No boon or curse will save anyone from his wrath."

A shiver passed through the room as everyone felt the weight of her warning.

Kunti's voice wavered. "Kanika will pay, won't he?"

"He will," Niyati replied, her tone unwavering. "But for now, prepare for tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" Arjuna asked, puzzled.

Niyati turned to leave, her words leaving behind a haunting silence. "Tomorrow is everything."

ALesson in Statecraft Upon hearing of the Pandavas' risingstrength and influence, Dritarashtra's mind became a maelstrom of fear andjealousy. The sons of Pandu, endowed with valour and virtue, were ascending tounparalleled heights. This ascendance cast a long shadow over the ambitions ofDritarashtra's own progeny. Troubled and uncertain, Dritarashtra summonedKanika, a minister renowned for his mastery of political science and expertisein counsel's subtleties.

With anguish in his heart, Dritarashtra laid bare his predicament: "The Pandavas are daily overshadowing the earth with their might and virtues. Their fame, courage, and alliances grow stronger with each passing day. My heart is tormented with jealousy and fear. Should I pursue peace or war with them? Advise me truthfully, Kanika, for I shall act according to your counsel."

Kanika's response was not merely an answerbut an exposition of statecraft and realpolitik. Having faced personal humiliationat the hands of Niyati, Kanika saw this moment as an opportunity to assert hisintellectual prowess. He began by stating, "Iknow you are not a king by birthright, but I shall tell you how a king ought tobehave. It is up to you to decide whether to follow my words."

What followed was a masterclass in governance steeped in pragmatism and a deliberate detachment from idealism. Kanika outlined the principles of kingship with unflinching clarity:

Power and Prowess: A king must always project strength. Fear is a vital control instrument, and a ruler who wields it effectively secures his dominion. Just as a tortoise conceals its vulnerabilities, a king must mask his weaknesses while exploiting those of his enemies.

Thoroughness in Action: A half-hearted approach to conflict is disastrous. Like a thorn that must be fully extracted, a foe must be completely neutralized. The slaughter of a foe is always praiseworthy if it ensures peace and security.

Guile and Deception: Cunning and subterfuge are essential tools in the ruler's arsenal. A king should maintain an appearance of virtue and humility only to strike decisively when the moment is opportune. King should be a wolf in sheep's clothing.

Exploiting Alliances: A ruler must recognize alliances' importance and fragility. A foe's strength often lies in its allies, and creating divisions among them can effectively weaken the enemy.

To illustrate his principles, Kanikarecounted the tale of a cunning jackal who outwitted his companions—a tiger, amouse, a wolf, and a mongoose—to claim the carcass of a deer. "A jackal wholives in a forest with four friends—a tiger, a mouse, a wolf, and a mongoose.One day, they spotted a strong deer they wanted to kill but couldn't because ofits speed and strength. The jackal devised a plan: the mouse would gnaw at thedeer's feet while it slept, allowing the tiger to kill it.

Once the deer wasslain, the jackal cleverly manipulated each of his companions by sowingdistrust and fear. He accused the mouse of boasting, warned the wolf of thetiger's anger, and intimidated the mongoose with his own supposed strength. Theothers abandoned the carcass one by one, leaving the jackal to feast on thedeer alone. This tale exemplifies the jackal's manipulation, deception, andpsychological tactics to outwit his stronger companions and secure the rewardfor himself."

Kanika says, "Three core principles of political strategy are – Deception, Division and Elimination. Deception involves concealing true intentions, pretending loyalty, or feigning weakness to disarm enemies or rivals. Division emphasizes creating mistrust among allies, thereby weakening their collective strength. Elimination, the final principle, advocates the complete destruction of a foe, ensuring they cannot rise again to pose a threat."

Kanika's counsel extended beyond strategy tothe ethics of governance. He advised Dritarashtra to suppress moral qualms forself-preservation and prosperity. "Ifa son, friend, or even a spiritual preceptor becomes an enemy, they must bedealt with without hesitation," he declared. He also stressed the importance ofvigilance. A ruler must remain watchful, employ spies and maintain secrecy inall affairs. While the ruler's public demeanor should reflect humility andgrace, his mind must be sharp and unyielding, always calculating the next move.

Kanika's counsel, though pragmatic, was steeped in ruthlessness. Dritarashtra listened intently, his mind oscillating between admiration and unease. Kanika words provided a clear roadmap for undermining the Pandavas and painted a bleak picture of a world driven by deceit and ambition. As Kanika concluded his discourse, he departed, leaving Dritarashtra to grapple with the weight of his choices.

Niyati's eyes glistened with unshed tears as she turned to Yuyutsu, her voice trembling. "Kanika gave the world the wisdom of Saam, Dam, Dand, and Bhed. But it became a weapon for adharma. If only he had stood with righteousness... Now, in Kaliyuga, people will follow Kanikaneeti, blind to its roots. How cruel a legacy."

Yuyutsu held her gaze, his expression calm yet tinged with sorrow. "Devi," he said softly, "we guide, but the choice lies with them. Worry not for what has been. Tomorrow is the Pandavas' dawn."

She nodded, her heart heavy yet steadied by his words. Together, they closed their eyes, retreating into meditation, their breaths weaving prayers for a world yet to understand the true weight of dharma.