As Niyati walked away from the humble abode of the Pandavas, flanked by Balarama and Krishna, the world behind her felt like a chapter closing—one written with pain, love, and unwavering bonds. But a new path awaited, filled with its trials and joys.

Krishna stretched his arms above his head, sighing dramatically as he walked. "Oh, come now, Niyati! You were born to fulfil a thousand purposes, to be the tide that shifts destiny. But let's not forget to live as well! Who knows if you will walk these mortal realms again?"

Niyati shot him a smirk, her eyes glinting with amusement. "And what is this grand idea of yours, Brata Krishna?"

Balarama chuckled, his deep voice laced with mirth. "Beware, Niyati. When Kanha starts speaking of grand ideas, it often means mischief wrapped in wisdom—or wisdom wrapped in mischief. Either way, it always ends with someone regretting it."

Krishna gasped in mock offence, "Dau! You wound me! Have I ever led you astray?"

Balarama raised a brow, "Need I remind you of when you convinced me to wrestle an enraged bull for sport?"

Niyati burst into laughter, "Oh! And what of the time you had the entire Yadava court convinced that Dau was planning to become a Rishi and renounce his warrior life?"

Balarama groaned, "By the time I found out, half the kingdom had already started gathering for my 'farewell ceremony'! I still remember the poets composing sorrowful verses about the 'warrior turned hermit'—all because of this schemer."

Krishna grinned, utterly unrepentant, "What can I say? The world needs entertainment."

Niyati smirked, "Speaking of entertainment, you haven't even asked about the lives of your beloved Pandavas, Brata."

Krishna's eyes twinkled, "Oh? And what, dear sister, makes you think I need to ask? I already know everything."

Niyati placed a hand on her hip, "Ah, the great Vasudeva, the omniscient one! How fortunate we are to be in your presence."

Balarama shook his head, "Sarcasm does not suit a princess, Niyati."

She turned to him with an innocent look, "Oh? And mischief does not suit a king, yet look at Brata."

Krishna chuckled, "Touché. But tell me, dear sister, do you truly know what has transpired in our lives?"

Niyati flicked her fingers in dismissal. "Oh, please! As if I wouldn't know? But very well, let me humor you both." She turned to Balarama first, "To begin with, I must congratulate both of you. You have been blessed with fine sons."

Balarama was intrigued, "And you have met them?"

She nodded, "I saw Pradyumna and Samba at the Swayamvar, standing proudly beside Nishatha and Ulmuka—your children, Dau."

Krishna smirked, "And what did you see in them?"

Niyati's expression turned thoughtful, "Pradyumna—the reflection of his father, wielding charm and steel with equal ease. He is a prince meant for great things, but he must learn that love and duty are not foes, only different faces of the same truth."

Balarama looked at her keenly, "And Nishatha and Ulmuka?"

Niyati smiled, "Sons of the lionhearted. Steady as mountains, fierce as the waves. The world will remember their names."

Krishna sighed, "And what of Samba?"

At that, Niyati chuckled softly, "Ah, Samba. A storm wrapped in golden laughter. He was born to test your patience, Brata Krishna, and that is his greatest joy."

Balarama laughed heartily while Krishna shook his head, "That boy will drive me to meditation. Or madness. Whichever comes first."

Niyati smirked, "If he is a storm, he only mirrors his father's chaos."

Krishna's smile widened. "Perhaps." Then he added, "But, dear Niyati, you may have missed something important."

Niyati arched a brow, "Oh?"

Krishna placed a hand over his heart, "While you have been occupied watching over dear Pandavas, you might not have noticed—I have taken many wives in your absence."

Niyati scoffed, "As if I would not know, Brata Krishna. The heavens themselves must be struggling to keep count."

Balarama smirked, "She has a point."

Krishna grinned, "Ah, but knowing is one thing. Hearing the tales from me is another."

Niyati's eyes gleamed with curiosity, "Then enlighten me, Brata. Let me hear of your conquests—not with weapons, but with words."

Krishna chuckled, "Ah, Niyati. You, of all people, should know—victory over hearts is far more complex than victory on the battlefield."

Balarama sighed, "And far more exhausting."

Niyati smirked, "And yet, here you are, both of you—warriors, kings, brothers—still believing you have mastered the art of life."

Krishna looked at her with admiration, "And what of you, sister? Have you not mastered it?"

Niyati exhaled, her mirth fading into something more profound. "No one truly masters life, Brata Krishna. We only learn to walk its path with grace or folly."

Balarama touched her shoulder. "Then let us walk forward together. Whatever awaits, we face it not alone. Kanha, now you start your storytelling...."

A Father's Legacy

Krishna ruffled Niyati's hair and swatted his hand away, narrowing her eyes at him.

"No hair, okay? Just tell," she huffed, smoothing her tresses back into place.

Krishna laughed, his eyes twinkling with mischief, but his gaze had a gentle fondness. "Ah, my dear sister, always so particular."

Balarama smirked, "She was always like this, even as a child. Remember when she almost challenged the court barber because he trimmed her locks too short?"

Niyati shot him a mock glare, "And who do you think instigated that? Brata Krishna, of course! He convinced me that a princess's strength lay in the length of her hair, and I, in all my childish wisdom, took it seriously!"

Krishna grinned, "Well, was I wrong? Even now, you guard it like a warrior guards his blade."

She rolled her eyes, "Enough distractions! Tell me about your son."

Krishna smiled, the amusement in his face softening into something deeper—something proud, "Very well. Let's start from the beginning, then. My first son, Pradyumna, was born to Devi Rukmini. But fate, ever unpredictable, snatched him away within days of his birth. Asura Shambara, recognizing the child as his foretold destroyer, cast him into the ocean. And there, destiny wove its intricate tale."

Niyati listened intently while Balarama nodded, already familiar with the story but captivated by Krishna's telling.

Krishna continued, his voice steady yet tinged with pride, "A mighty fish swallowed my son, carrying him through the vast, endless waters. And as fate would have it, that very fish was caught by fishermen and presented as an offering to Shambara himself. But the ways of the cosmos are never so simple, are they?"

He glanced at Niyati, who shook her head, a knowing smile on her lips.

"When the fish was cut open, there he was—Pradyumna, untouched by the waters, unclaimed by death. He was then given to Mayavati, the incarnation of Rati Devi. She knew her eternal consort had returned to her the moment she saw him."

Balarama nodded thoughtfully, "It is rare for love to weave itself across lifetimes with such unshakable certainty."

Krishna's gaze softened, "Love, when pure, does not bow to time. It merely waits."

Niyati sighed. "And what then?"

Krishna smirked. "Then, my son grew—into a warrior, a prince of unshakable will. When he reached adolescence, Mayavati revealed the truth. She did not just give him her love but also knowledge. She bestowed upon him the mystic art of Mahamaya, the force that dispels all illusions and magic."

Balarama's eyes gleamed with approval. "A rare gift indeed."

Krishna nodded, "Armed with this knowledge, Pradyumna challenged Shambara. The battle was fierce—the Asura summoned weapons imbued with the power of Guhyakas, Gandharvas, Pishachas, and the celestial Uragas. But none could match my son. Their forces crumbled one by one, and in the end, Pradyumna beheaded the Asura with a single stroke of his sword."

Niyati let out a soft breath. "A battle worthy of legends."

Krishna chuckled, "Oh, but the real amusement began when he returned to Dwaraka. He arrived like a cloud heralding a storm—lightning beside him in the form of Rati Devi. And the people, seeing him, thought I had again taken a new wife."

Balarama laughed, shaking his head, "I can imagine their faces."

Krishna's smile widened as he reminisced, "Rukmini knew. A mother's heart always knows. The moment her eyes fell upon him, she recognized her son. And so, Pradyumna returned home, not as an infant lost to the waves, but as a warrior who had conquered destiny itself."

Niyati's expression softened, and she whispered, "He is more than your son, Brata Krishna. He is a testament to how fate weaves its stories—cruel, yet poetic."

Krishna nodded, "Indeed. Though the world may see him as young, they do not understand the depth of his journey. He was not merely born to I and Rukmini—he was forged by fire, separation, and love that spanned lifetimes."

Balarama smiled knowingly. "And you have more sons than just Pradyumna."

Krishna chuckled, "Ah, yes. Apart from him, I have Charudeshna, Sudeshna, Charudeha, Sushena, Charugupta, Bhadracharu, Charuvinda, Sucharu, Charu, and Charumati."

Niyati raised a brow. " Do you realize that you have a type when it comes to names?"

Balarama laughed while Krishna grinned, "A father must ensure harmony in all things—even in names."

Niyati smirked, "And yet, your life remains the most chaotic of all."

Krishna's gaze held amusement but also wisdom, "Chaos and harmony are not opposites, dear sister. They are merely two sides of the same truth. One cannot exist without the other."

Niyati folded her arms, contemplating his words, "Then tell me, Brata Krishna, in all your wisdom—do you believe your sons will walk the path you have?"

Krishna's expression turned thoughtful, "No. They will walk their paths as they must. They will carve their own stories into the heart of time. A father does not create his son's destiny—he merely teaches him how to face it."

Balarama placed a firm hand on Krishna's shoulder, "Wise words, Kanha. And ones I hope your sons will live by."

Niyati smiled, the weight of their conversation settling deep within her, "Then let us continue walking, for stories do not end—they only unfold, step by step."

A Father's Pride and Wisdom

"Yes," Krishna said with a smile, his voice carrying both amusement and quiet pride. "With Satyabhama, I have another ten children. Bhanu, Swabhanu, Subhanu, Bhanumaan, Prabhanu, Atibhanu, Pratibhanu, Shribhanu, Bruhadbhanu, and Chandrabhanu."

Niyati raised an eyebrow, arms crossed, smirking, "Brata Krishna, you realize that people from Kaliyuga will take inspiration from you and start naming their children in rhyming patterns, don't you?"

Balarama burst into laughter while Krishna tilted his head in playful contemplation, "Well, dear sister, if even my children's names can become a tradition for generations, should I not take it as an achievement?"

Niyati sighed, shaking her head with a chuckle, "Knowing you, I should have expected such an answer." Then, with a thoughtful glint, she added, "But I must say, Bhanu resembles you the most, just like Pradyumna. Considering his Mata is Bhudevi herself, I believe he will be the most soft-spoken among all your children."

"That is true," Balarama agreed, his voice warm. "There is an undeniable gentleness in him. But do not be fooled—his silence is not weakness but the calm before the storm. The strength of Bhudevi herself courses through him."

Krishna's eyes gleamed as he continued, "At the moment, he is learning gada-yuddha from Dau and playing the flute like me. And, dear sister, you should see him when he plays—he does not merely create music; he commands nature. The trees bow, the rivers pause, the very wind listens as if caught in his spell."

Niyati's lips curled into a knowing smile. "Then he is truly Bhudevi's son."

Krishna nodded, "And soon, when Arjuna returns to Hastinapur, I will send Bhanu to him so that he may master the art of archery as well."

At this, Niyati scoffed, rolling her eyes, "As if you cannot teach him yourself."

Krishna let out a deep, melodious laugh, throwing an arm around her shoulders, "Ah, my dear sister, a true teacher must know when to teach and when to step back. The greatest wisdom is not hoarding knowledge but allowing the seeker to find their path."

Balarama smirked, "And yet, you never 'stepped back' when teasing us, did you?"

Krishna feigned innocence, placing a hand on his chest, "Why, Dau, what an accusation! I merely guided you both toward greater understanding through unconventional methods."

Niyati narrowed her eyes in mock suspicion, "Brata Krishna, sometimes I wonder—are you truly the wisest of us or simply the best at making us believe so?"

Krishna's rich and unburdened laughter rang through the air as he replied, "Ah, Niyati, the greatest wisdom knows when to answer and simply smile."

Balarama shook his head with a chuckle, "And yet, you always have an answer."

Krishna winked, "That, dear Dau, is the art of life itself."

The three continued walking, their laughter echoing through the open lands. They carried with them the weight of their past, the lightness of the present, and the mysteries of the future.

Embracing Fate

As they walked beneath the vast sky painted in shades of twilight, Niyati's voice held a quiet sorrow.

"So, what about Samba? You know, right Brata?" she asked, her heart heavy.

Krishna looked at her, his eyes reflecting both the weight of time and the lightness of acceptance. A small smile played on his lips as he said, "Every beginning has an end, Niyati. And every end is but the doorway to a new beginning."

Balarama and Niyati shared a knowing glance, a silent acknowledgement of the deeper meaning behind his words.

They took a moment to rest as they reached a large banyan tree. The leaves rustled gently as if whispering ancient secrets. Krishna leaned back against the trunk, his gaze fixed on the vast sky above.

"Jambavati was restless," he began, his voice laced with reminiscence, "Seeing the sons of Rukmini and Satyabhama, she felt incomplete. It was not envy nor resentment—just an ache only a mother's longing could understand."

His fingers traced patterns in the soil. "She came to me, asking for a son as radiant as Pradyumna. And I knew, Niyati... I knew that Samba would be the herald of the end of Yaduvamsha. But some things are not to be avoided. They are to be embraced."

A deep sigh left him. "So, I sought Mahadeva."

Krishna's voice softened as he recounted his penance, "I went to the Himalayas, to the hermitage of Rishi Upamanyu. As advised, I performed austerities—standing on one leg, surviving on water, then air, and surrendering to stillness. Six months passed, and then he came."

A flicker of something unreadable crossed his face. "Samba—the union of Shiva and Shakti—appeared before me in Ardhanarishvara. I asked for a son for Jambavati, and the boon was granted."

His words hung in the air like a prophecy fulfilled.

Niyati, understanding the burden he carried, placed her hand on his shoulder. Her voice was quiet yet firm.

"You have always known the course of fate, Brata. But true wisdom is not just in knowing—it is in accepting. A fool fights the river's current. A wise man flows with it, knowing the ocean awaits."

Krishna turned to her with a small smile, his eyes gleaming with love that needed no words, "A river does not mourn the ocean it is destined to meet."

Balarama exhaled, "And yet, the river does not stop flowing."

Niyati closed her eyes momentarily, feeling the weight of unspoken truths settle in her heart. But, unwilling to drown in sorrow, she broke the silence with a smirk, "And I suppose this realization didn't stop you from having more children either?"

Krishna, ever the playful one, leaned back with an exaggerated sigh. "Oh, Niyati, if I stopped at every realization, I'd have no time to live."

She rolled her eyes. "Hey Bhagawan..."

Krishna immediately smiled teasingly, "Ha, tell me?"

Laughter erupted between them.

Niyati shook her head, "Seriously, Brata, how could you have so many children? Did you ever think about population control?"

Krishna gasped in mock offence. "I am merely fulfilling my dharma!"

Balarama chuckled. "Ah, so this is what dharma looks like?"

Krishna smirked. "Would you like to try, Dau?"

Balarama raised a hand. "No, no! You handle the poetry of life; I shall handle the plough."

Their laughter echoed through the banyan leaves, mingling with the whispering winds.

"Alright, tell me their names," Niyati finally said, crossing her arms.

Krishna straightened as if ready to present an achievement, "After Samba, Jambavati and I had Sumitra, Purujit, Shatajit, Sahasrajit, Vijaya, Chitraketu, Vasuman, Dravida, and Kratu."

Niyati stared at him for a long moment. Then, deadpan, she asked, "You realize you have more sons than some kingdoms have soldiers, right?"

Krishna grinned. "Ah, Niyati, what is a king without a kingdom? And what is Krishna without Leela?"

Balarama shook his head with a smile as Niyati groaned dramatically. "You're impossible."

Krishna leaned in, whispering, "And yet, you wouldn't have me any other way."

Niyati sighed, shaking her head, but her smile betrayed her. "You win. As always."

Beyond Social Bonds

As they continued walking towards Drupada's fort under the vast expanse of the twilight sky, Niyati curiously turned to Krishna.

"Tell me about accepting all those women after killing Narakasura."

Krishna smiled knowingly. "You speak as if I killed him, Niyati."

A smirk played on Niyati's lips. "Maybe the arrow was loosed from Satya Bhabhishree, but the mind behind it was yours, Brata."

Krishna chuckled, shaking his head.

"Tell me the whole story," she urged.

Balarama scoffed lightly. "You ask as if you don't already know, as if you weren't the one weaving these tales into legends."

Niyati clasped her hands behind her back. "It is always better to hear these stories from the horse's mouth. And we still have a long walk ahead. Don't you agree, Brata Krishna?"

"Yes, yes," Krishna said, amusement twinkling in his eyes.

He took a deep breath before beginning. "Once, there was a king with 16,000 daughters. Before I descended upon this world, when I was still Vishnu, I visited his palace as a hermit. Drawn by my presence, his daughters surrounded me in reverence. But their father, blinded by his rage, cursed them. When they pleaded for mercy, he relented, declaring that in their next birth, they would become the consorts of Narayana himself. That king was later born as Narakasura, and his daughters as the princesses he abducted."

Niyati nodded, resting her head lightly on Balarama's shoulder as they walked.

Krishna continued, "Narakasura, the founder of the Bhauma dynasty of Pragjyotisha, was born to Bhudevi and my Varaha avatar. In his early years, he was righteous, but as time passed, the weight of power corrupted him. Drunk on his own might, he saw himself as invincible. He conquered the earth, then turned his gaze to Swarga. Indra fled in fear, leaving his throne abandoned. Naraka then proclaimed himself the lord of both heaven and earth. And like all those blinded by unchecked power, he soon crossed the line—stealing Mata Aditi's celestial earrings and abducting 16,000 women without consent."

Niyati sighed, the weight of history heavy upon her.

Krishna's voice held a quiet ache. "No matter the avatar, my bond with Lakshmi remains. During my Varaha incarnation, she came as Bhudevi, and Naraka was born from her. He was my son. Yet, when the balance of Dharma is broken, even kin must not be spared. The burden of justice does not weigh differently for blood ties."

Niyati placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "No matter how deep the bond is, a duty is a duty. If the fruit has rotted, even the gardener must pluck it."

Krishna gave a small, sad smile. "Yes. And that is why I promised—when I incarnate as Krishna, I will end Naraka's reign, for he had received a boon that only his mother could kill him."

The air around them felt charged as he continued, "As time passed, and I was born here, Naraka was allowed his long reign. But when Mata Aditi, became a distant relative of Satyabhama—sought aid, Satya was enraged by Naraka's misdeeds. It was she who first sought justice."

Niyati chuckled. "That is Satyabhama for you."

Krishna smiled. "Indeed. She demanded we wage war, and as I had promised the Devas, I led the attack on Naraka's great fortress, riding upon Garuda with Satya beside me. Naraka's forces—eleven Akshouhinis—came at me, wave after wave. His general Mura fell first; I was called Murari."

Balarama smirked. "And yet, he still believed he could fight you."

Krishna nodded. "He wielded divine weapons, but each I countered with its equal—his Brahmastra fell before mine, his Agneyastra was doused by my Varunastra, his Nagapasha undone by my Garudastra. In desperation, he launched the Vaishnavastra upon me, but I met it with my own."

Niyati listened intently, her eyes never leaving her brother.

"At last," Krishna continued, "Naraka lifted his trident, ready to strike me down. And I... I let myself fall."

Niyati smiled knowingly. "Because only his mother could kill him."

Krishna nodded. "Outraged, Satya took up arms. At that moment, she was not just my wife nor a queen—she was Bhudevi, who had come to restore balance. And with my Sudarshan Chakra, I ended Narakasura's reign, splitting him in two."

A silence followed, one not of sorrow but of completion.

Niyati then brightened. "And that, Brata, is how Deepavali came to be."

Krishna chuckled as Balarama smiled.

"Yes," Krishna said. "The day darkness was vanquished, and the women Narakasura imprisoned were freed."

Niyati smirked. "And you, ever the gracious one, decided to accept them all?"

Krishna did not laugh this time. Instead, his gaze softened, and his voice held a quiet depth.

"Niyati, what is marriage?" he asked.

She blinked, slightly taken aback by the question. "It is a sacred bond, Brata. A union of two souls, bound in Dharma."

Krishna nodded. "And what is a wife?"

She pondered for a moment. "A wife shares her husband's journey, joys, burdens, Dharma."

Krishna smiled. "Then tell me, were these women not bound to me already?"

Niyati frowned, trying to grasp his words. Krishna continued.

"The world believes marriage is only a social contract, grihastha dharma, an obligation between man and woman. But Niyati, true marriage is not of the body but of the soul. These women were stolen from their homes, stripped of their dignity, and abandoned by those who feared dishonour—who else could they turn to? Society had already cast them away. They were alive, yet without life. They were breathing, yet without purpose. Only taking my name - they existed, yet without identity. Tell me, what was my Dharma?"

"To restore what was taken," she answered, her voice barely above a whisper.

Krishna nodded. "If I had left them, their existence would be worse than death. Who would have given them shelter? The very families who had abandoned them? The men who deemed them impure? A woman loses her honour not when she is taken by force but when society chooses to see her as tainted. And if the world only gives dignity to a woman through the title of wife, then tell me, would you have me stand by and watch as they faded into nothingness?"

Niyati swallowed, his words resonating deep within her.

"I did not marry them to possess them," Krishna continued. "I did not wed them for love or desire. I became their husband so they would no longer be seen as abandoned. So that no man, family, or kingdom could turn them away. I took them into my home not as mere wives but as souls who deserved to live with their heads held high. If my name could restore their honour, if my presence could give them an identity, then what greater Dharma could I fulfil?"

Niyati looked at her brother, the weight of his wisdom settling over her. The world always had heard the stories, the myths, the numbers—16,000 wives, a king of impossible unions—but no one ever spoke of why. No one ever saw beyond its spectacle.

Krishna's voice grew softer. "People speak of my 16,000 wives as though it were a conquest, a feat of indulgence. But Niyati, tell me, what is indulgence? Is it taking without need, or is it giving without hesitation? The world will always question and misunderstand. But Dharma is not bound by the world's judgment. I did what was right, not what was expected."

Balarama, who had been silently listening, exhaled deeply. "And that is why you are Krishna."

A small smile touched Krishna's lips. "No, Dau. That is why I am me."

Niyati took a deep breath as if absorbing every word into her soul. Then, she exhaled, the weight of understanding settling in her heart.

"You did not marry them to make them yours," she said slowly, "but to return them to themselves."

Krishna's smile widened. "And that, Niyati, is the only marriage that truly matters."

They continued walking under the vast, starlit sky, the silence between them no longer empty—but full of meaning.