The road to Drupada's palace stretched before them, the moon casting silver upon their path. The night carried a gentle breeze as if listening to their conversation with rapt attention. Niyati walked between her brothers, her mind still weaving through the stories Krishna had told.

They were close now—just a bit further- and would reach their resting place for the night. But something lingered in her heart, a question unasked.

"So, Brata Krishna," she said, glancing at him with a knowing smile. "Since we are already near our destination, tell me—"

Krishna, always playful, raised an eyebrow. "What more to tell, my dear Niyati?"

"Your other marriage."

Balarama chuckled, anticipating the conversation to come.

"I have to meet her too, don't I?" Niyati pressed on.

"Ah, that you must," Krishna admitted. "In fact, sometimes Satya and Jambavati boast about knowing you well, and in the same breath, they become jealous of our bond. And then comes Revati Bhabhi and Rukmini to make them understand."

Niyati laughed. "I still don't understand your concept—caring for so many wives."

Krishna smirked. "Well, well, let's keep some things hidden."

Niyati rolled her eyes. "Brata—"

Krishna chuckled. "Alright, alright. My next wife was Mitravinda."

A change settled in the air. Krishna's voice took on a softer tone, a reverence that spoke of his memories.

"As you know, Mitravinda Mata is Rajadhidevi. She is the daughter of Surasena and Marisa, making her our cousin from our father's side. Sister of Bua Kunti."

Niyati nodded, listening intently.

"Vindya and Anuvindya, who shared the throne of Avanti, were staunch allies of Suyodhana. They did not invite us to her Swayamvar. But Dau knew something I did not—Mitravinda's heart had already chosen me. I did not believe it at first. Love can be spoken of, but how often is it true? I ensured Subhadra spoke with her, and through her, I learned the truth."

Krishna's eyes held the weight of what had passed, "She loved me, yet she was bound by the will of her brothers. They forbade her from choosing me, even if I arrived uninvited. She was to choose another, despite her heart's protest."

He exhaled, shaking his head lightly, "When I arrived with Dau, Mitravinda told me of her plight, her voice trembling with a plea. And Niyati—what is love if not a call to stand by someone when they are powerless? She asked me to take her away from there, to free her from the chains her own family had placed upon her. Could I, who had vowed to uphold Dharma, turn away from her pain?"

Niyati felt her throat tighten.

"I took her," Krishna continued, his voice unwavering. "I lifted her into my chariot, and we left the Swayamvar behind. Her brothers fought. Duryodhana fought. Many others who sought her hand fought. But tell me, Niyati—what battle has love ever lost when fought with truth?"

Niyati smiled faintly. "All your marriages... are more than mere ceremonies, aren't they? They are stories of faith, devotion, and justice."

Krishna glanced at her, a twinkle in his eye, "A marriage is not about possession, Niyati. It is about trust. It is about giving someone the strength to be themselves. And if my name and presence could give them that strength, could I deny them?"

She took a deep breath, "And yet, Brata, who is your true love?"

Krishna's smile deepened.

"I mean," she pressed on, "you married whoever wished to marry you, whoever devoted themselves to you. You belong to all, yet you are Brahmachari too. But there must have been someone who made your heart truly run."

For a moment, Krishna said nothing. The wind seemed to pause, waiting.

Then, softly, he spoke, "I, as Narayana, always belong to my Lakshmi. No matter which birth I take or the form I hold, I belong to her, and she belongs to me. If I marry, it is only because she has divided herself to be with me. If my heart beats, it is because she is the one who gives it rhythm."

Niyati tilted her head, unimpressed. "What a diplomatic answer."

Krishna laughed, his voice echoing into the night.

"And Niyati, you know how many children he has with Mitravinda?" Balarama suddenly asked mischief in his tone.

"Not again," she groaned.

Krishna grinned. "Ten—Vrika, Harsha, Anila, Gridhra, Vardhana, Unnada, Mahamsa, Pavana, Vahni, and Kshudhi."

Niyati stared at him, exasperated. "What is with you and having ten children with every wife? Are you trying to match the Kauravas or something?"

Krishna smirked. "Maybe surpass them."

She shook her head in amusement.

Then, she hesitated. A thought that would not let her go had taken root in her mind.

"Narayana," she said, her voice softer now. "May I ask you something?"

Krishna's playful demeanor shifted. He stilled, his gaze turning toward her with quiet understanding.

Sensing the moment's gravity, Balarama stepped ahead, giving them space.

Krishna nodded. "Ask, Niyati."

She exhaled, steadying herself.

"Why?" she asked. "Why did you marry so many women in this birth? What was the purpose?"

Krishna's eyes softened, but there was something deeper there—something unfathomable.

"I told you," he murmured.

"Devi Lakshmi divided herself because you were meant to marry them. But why? What was the reason for this division?"

She paused, then asked the question that had lingered in her soul for so long, "As Rama, you abandoned Devi Sita due to societal pressure and Raja dharma. Are you trying to break that cycle by being Krishna? Then tell me, Brata—whom should people follow in Kaliyug? Rama or Krishna?"

A long silence stretched between them. The world itself seemed to hold its breath.

Krishna looked at Niyati, his gaze unreadable as if searching for the right words to explain the inexplicable. The air around them stilled. Even the stars above seemed to lean in, listening.

"You seek a reason, Niyati," Krishna said, calm yet weighty. "But tell me, can the infinite be measured? Can the ocean be contained in a mere handful of water? And yet, because you ask, I shall answer."

Niyati waited, her eyes locked onto his, unblinking.

"You say I married many and bound myself to countless women. But tell me, Niyati, what is a marriage if not an acceptance of responsibility? Every woman who has come to me did so with faith, love, or surrender. Could I, who have vowed to uphold Dharma, turn them away? And if I had, what would have become of them?"

Niyati was silent.

Krishna continued, "You mention Sita and Rama. You ask if I seek to break what was once upheld. But Niyati, understand this—Rama and Krishna are not different. We are the same. The river changes its course, but does the water cease to be water?"

She listened, absorbing every word.

"Rama upheld Dharma as a king, a ruler bound by his throne. But Dharma is not a single path, Niyati. It is not one unbending rule that all must follow blindly. Dharma is fluid and alive; it changes with time, people, and circumstances. As Rama, I lived for the world, for the expectations of a kingdom, for the word of my people. I bore the pain of separation, not because I wanted to, but because my duty demanded it."

Krishna paused, allowing his words to settle in her heart.

"But as Krishna, I walk a different path. Rama built a kingdom upon duty, and Krishna built a world upon love. And love, Niyati, does not abandon. It does not ask whether one is worthy. It does not measure, does not withhold. It simply gives."

Niyati inhaled deeply. "Then what should people follow in Kaliyug, Brata? Rama or Krishna?"

Krishna smiled, the glow of the moon reflecting in his eyes, "Follow both. Follow neither. Follow Dharma."

Niyati frowned. "That is no answer."

Krishna laughed softly. "It is the only answer. Rama is Dharma. Krishna is Dharma. But Dharma is not limited to either of us. It is limitless. In Treta Yuga, people needed a king who would sacrifice himself for their ideals. In Dvapara Yuga, they needed a friend, a guide who would show them the deeper truths. And in Kaliyug? They will need both. They will need to know when to uphold duty like Rama and when to embrace love like Krishna. There is no one answer, Niyati because life does not give us one path."

She exhaled, feeling the weight of his words settle in her soul.

"But then," she whispered, "why so many wives? Why did Lakshmi divide herself?"

Krishna chuckled. "Because I divided myself. She does not exist without me, nor am I without her. In every birth, she comes where she is needed, in as many forms as the world requires. As Rama, she was one—Sita. Because my test was singular. But as Krishna, my purpose was vast. I was not just a prince; I was a friend, a warrior, a protector, a guide. And so, my Lakshmi too became many, for I was needed in many forms."

He looked at her, his gaze infinite, "My marriages were never about me, Niyati. They were about them. About the abandoned, the forgotten, the unseen. About those who sought refuge in me, in my name. And if the world only respects a woman when she bears the title of a wife, then so be it—I would marry a thousand times over to give them dignity."

Silence followed. Niyati lowered her eyes, lost in thought. She had come seeking an answer; instead, she had been given a universe.

Balarama, standing ahead, finally turned, breaking the stillness.

"I suppose that means you will keep marrying?" he asked, his voice teasing.

Krishna grinned. "Well, Dau, the night is still young."

And with that, the three of them continued walking, the weight of wisdom mingling with the lightness of laughter, as it always did in Krishna's presence.

The Essence of Divine Actions

As they stood at the palace gates, the weight of all that had passed hung heavily. Niyati, always perceptive, turned to Krishna with a question that had been troubling her heart.

She had observed the world through the lens of time and saw how human understanding often became distorted, especially in the age of Kali, where misinterpretations ran rampant, and people followed the surface rather than the essence. Her question was filled with the wisdom of ages, yet it held a deep sorrow for the misunderstandings that pervaded humanity.

"Brata Krishna," she asked, her voice soft but firm, "You know, in Kali Yuga, rather than understanding the deeper meanings of why Lord Rama did what he did, people simply follow the actions, and they will demand that a woman undergo the Agni Pariksha. Instead of grasping the purpose behind your many marriages, men will seek to marry as many women as possible. What do you have to say to them? I hope somehow Dwaipayana captures this conversation so that at least a few may understand the truth and choose to follow what is right."

Ever calm and composed, Krishna allowed the weight of her words to settle in his heart. He knew that in this age, where righteousness is often clouded by the veil of ignorance, understanding is rare. And yet, the divine purpose was never meant to be comprehended by all—only by those who sought the deeper truth beneath the surface.

After a moment of quiet reflection, Krishna spoke. His voice was not of this world; it carried the resonance of countless lifetimes, the weight of infinite wisdom, and the clarity of eternal truth.

"Niyati," he began, his gaze distant, as if looking beyond the present and into the unseen realms, "the world is like a vast ocean, and every soul within it is but a drop. Those drops may strive to reach the shore, but most will only grasp at the surface, unable to fathom the depth beneath. The events that unfold, especially in the lives of divine beings, carry meaning far beyond human comprehension, yet they are misinterpreted in each age. This is the nature of the world, where the truth is often obscured by the limitations of time and perspective."

Krishna's gaze softened as he continued, "The story of Rama and Sita is one such example. People misunderstand the Agni Pariksha, thinking it is a test of Sita's loyalty. But the truth is far more profound. The Agni Pariksha was not a test of Sita's character—it demonstrated to the world that a woman's honour and virtue should never be questioned. It was not for her to prove herself but for the world to recognize the sacredness of her purity. Rama did not wish to subject her to suffering but to protect her from the impure gaze of society, for the world, in its ignorance, would not have accepted her without a trial. In the Kali Yuga, people fail to see that the true meaning of the Agni Pariksha was not in the ritual but in the protection of virtue and honour. They mimic the action without understanding its intent, and thus, they fall into error."

Krishna's voice deepened as he spoke of his own actions. "As for my marriages, they too are often misunderstood. People see only the surface, and they believe that I married many times out of desire or for selfish reasons. But the truth is far different. Each marriage and union were a divine act of compassion and duty. I did not marry to satisfy earthly cravings but to fulfil the needs of the world. I married to offer refuge to those who sought it, provide hope where none existed, and give shelter to the fallen. My marriages were not driven by passion but by purpose. I was a protector, a guide, and a healer to those in need. It was not for men to follow the outward actions of the Gods but the deeper spirit of those actions. The true path is to act with righteousness, offer shelter and support to the broken, and fulfil one's dharma."

Krishna's eyes met Niyati's with a knowing glance. "People are often drawn to the surface of things and miss the essence beneath. The world will follow the letter of divine actions, but they must learn to seek the spirit of them. Only then will they understand why these actions were performed, and only then will they realize that true wisdom does not lie in the mimicry of divine deeds but in the pursuit of their deeper meaning."

He paused, allowing his words to sink in, before offering his final counsel. "In this age of Kali, ignorance will reign, and the true understanding of divine actions will be rare. But there will always be those who seek the truth, who will question and reflect. It is for them that these words must be shared. And perhaps, in time, they will pass on the wisdom, as you hope, so that others may walk the path of righteousness and not follow blind imitations."

Krishna's words lingered in the air, filled with the weight of ages. One thing one has to understand is that it was not the actions alone that mattered but the intent and wisdom behind them. In the end, it was not the number of marriages or the trials faced but the love and duty they embodied that would lead humanity toward true understanding.

A Cosmic Union

As they made their way toward their room, the night's stillness hung in the air, disturbed only by their soft footsteps. Balarama, grounded in his natural composure, had already rested while Krishna and Niyati continued walking as if they were drifting through a moment that belonged not to time but to destiny.

Krishna broke the silence, his voice laced with the weight of an underlying resolve, "Marry Yuyutsu, my dear Niyati."

Niyati, slightly taken aback by the sudden request, sighed softly. Her voice held a quiet strength that comes from years of introspection. "Give me a reason for this marriage. I can still remain with the Pandavas without any attachments."

Krishna, his gaze steady, responded with the calm assurance that only he could command. "You fear binding yourself, Niyati."

Her eyes flickered with the wisdom of one who had seen beyond the veil of time, "We are beyond all bonds, Krishna. You and I both know that. Our souls are free from the attachments of this world. I can live as I have, untethered, without the need for such a union."

Krishna's voice softened, yet there was a profound firmness in it, "We are indeed beyond these things, but while the soul may be free, the body and the duties of this world are not. You may feel the weightlessness of the eternal, but the world we inhabit is bound by the laws of this guy. And in this Yug, every soul must choose a path. You are bound by the duties of marriage or the silence of asceticism. You know this well, Niyati."

She hesitated, but Krishna pressed on calmly, understanding her resistance, "Do not mistake freedom for evasion. The time has come for you to fulfil a role that aligns with your dharma. You called upon Mahadeva to marry you, did you not? Do not step back from what you have already called into being."

Krishna's words carried a deeper resonance now, filled with the quiet sorrow of his cosmic responsibility, "You are my sister, Niyati. And no matter my form—Narayan, Krishna, or any of the countless others—I am bound to you by the deepest love and concern. As a brother, I desire only your happiness."

Niyati, with a flicker of amusement in her eyes, responded, "So, Devi Parvati is not your sister then?"

Krishna, ever the embodiment of both wisdom and wit, let out a bittersweet chuckle. "Ah, how could I forget whom I am speaking to? Niyati, the very force of fate. You, who hold the threads of all things in your hands, and yet you seek to break free from them. You know the fabric of the universe, yet you resist the weaving of your own path."

He turned as if to walk away, his steps heavy with the burden of unspoken truths.

But Niyati, with a quiet but firm grip, stopped him, her hand holding his with the strength of unshakable resolve. "Do not walk away from your sister, Brata. You know me well. Understand my perspective. I am the core essence of Para Niyati, the eternal order of things. I chose to be your sister and Brahma's daughter, so my essence is tied to Shiva. That bond is my dharma, and it is unbreakable. Yet, I know that even this bond is not without consequences. If I marry Shiva, the cosmic balance will shift, however slightly. I must not allow that to happen lightly."

She paused, her gaze unwavering, "Yes, in the inevitable times, I will marry him. But until that moment comes, I must hold the world in balance. It is not just for my own sake that I do this, but for all. Shiva is here to be with me and stand with me in this dharma journey, which he too understands."

Krishna looked at Niyati, his gaze steady, as if he could see beyond the fabric of her being. The cosmos seemed to pause in anticipation as his voice broke the silence, filled with the depth of timeless wisdom.

"Niyati," he began, his words measured, "You speak of freedom, of being beyond the bonds of this world. But true freedom, the kind you seek, is not the absence of responsibility—the recognition of the deeper truth binds us all. You are a part of the cosmos, not separate from it. And in that vast interconnectedness, every action, every choice you make, ripples across eternity."

He paused, his eyes locking with hers, piercing through the veil of uncertainty she held. "You ask for a reason to marry, but the question is not why—how will you fulfil the purpose for which you were born. You, Niyati, carry within you the essence of the eternal order. You are the core of the balance of the universe. You do not belong to the transient world of desires or individual freedoms alone."

Krishna stepped closer, his presence enveloping her like the very breath of existence, "The yuga you are in, the time you walk, demands that you fulfil the role of unity. You are the axis around which so many destinies revolve. In this moment, your marriage is not a personal act but a cosmic one. Through it, the balance will shift. Through it, the universe itself will find its rhythm once more. You are not merely a soul in this world—a force, an eternal law that cannot be swayed by the whims of time."

His voice softened, but the gravity of his words remained, "To marry Yuyutsu is not to give in to the world's expectations but to embrace your dharma as the weaver of fate itself. Your union with him will not be born out of personal attachment or desire—it will be the fulfilment of a role set before you by the very hands of destiny. You are the nexus through which many forces will align, and that alignment will shape the future, bringing harmony to the world."

He paused again, his eyes tender but filled with the weight of eternity, "The cosmos does not wait for us to be ready, Niyati. You know it. It moves according to its own will. Your choice has already been written in the stars; now is the time to enter that truth. You must trust that you are free even in your surrender to dharma. Freedom lies not in avoiding our responsibilities but in accepting them with grace and understanding. Accepting the role, you were always meant to play makes you feel at peace with the universe. And in that peace, you will find true freedom."

Krishna's voice lowered, and his words showed a deep, almost sorrowful tenderness, "I know you do not wish for this. I know your heart longs for a different kind of freedom. But the freedom you seek is already within you. It is not the absence of connection but the awareness of your purpose. You are bound to the eternal Niyati, and in that bond, you will find the strength to guide the course of history."

After a long pause, Niyati spoke softly, almost like saying to the universe. "Okay. I will marry."

Krishna, his heart both relieved and heavy, smiled at her with the warmth of a brother who understood the weight of her decision. He embraced her gently, the promise of unwavering support in his touch, "I am with you, always. But know this: Your marriage to Yuyutsu is not a choice made out of weakness. It is the choice made out of the greatest strength—the strength to honour your dharma, to honour the cosmic balance that binds us all. You are not alone in this, and you never will be."

Krishna's gaze softened, but there was no question in his eyes now—only the unwavering support of a brother who understood the vastness of the journey she was about to undertake.

The Whisper of Cosmic Responsibility

When everyone had retired to their rooms, Yuyutsu appeared before Krishna, his form radiant, as if he had transcended into something more than mortal. His expression was serious, and his words hung heavy in the air.

"You shouldn't have forced her, Shri Krishna," Yuyutsu said, his voice tinged with concern.

Krishna, always the master of shifting moods, turned with a playful twinkle in his eye, "Oh, my God! How could you scare me like that, Yuyutsu? I thought you were here to lighten my mood, not make me think the universe was about to end!" His lips curled in a mischievous smile, his tone light as he paced around, making a show of his theatrical exaggeration.

Yuyutsu, however, was not amused. His brows furrowed, and he met Krishna's gaze with a knowing look, his voice steady.

"You know why I did this," Krishna said, his expression serious as he looked into Yuyutsu's eyes. "One thing we all stopped Niyati from knowing in her mortal form is the boon I asked of her personally. And I told her to forget it, which she did. But that boon remains, hidden away in the folds of her memory. She can't recall it now, but it is still a part of her."

Yuyutsu, his gaze sharp and filled with concern, spoke firmly, "For the sake of that boon, Krishna, you cannot just push her life like this. Her fate and freedom are all tangled in this decision."

His lips curling again with a glint of mischief, Krishna gave a quick chuckle, "Really? Then what about Draupadi? Isn't the boon of five husbands what led her to marry them?" His words held no malice but rather the playful weight of a cosmic truth.

Yuyutsu sighed deeply, his voice tinged with a sombre understanding, "Shri Krishna, Niyati is your sister."

Krishna's smile deepened, his voice now carrying a tone of unspoken truth, "She is your wife in every form, Mahadeva. The child born from this union will shape Aryavarta's future. You must not forget this—this is the part Niyati does not remember because I asked her to forget."

Yuyutsu's face softened as the weight of Krishna's words pressed against his heart. He spoke quietly, "But we both are mortal now. Anything can change. Niyati can change everything. So, everything is uncertain."

Krishna's gaze became piercing as he responded, his voice unwavering, "But your child won't change, Yuyutsu. Vajra from the Yadu lineage will continue, and Parikshit will carry the Kuru lineage alongside your child. These lineages, their destinies, are tied to something greater than what we see now."

Before Yuyutsu could respond, Krishna cut in, his voice calm but insistent, "This is the first time we are doing this, Yuyutsu. If this works, the child you have with Niyati will be the one to calm the negative effects of Kali Asura in the coming Kaliyug. This is not just about your union with her but the balance of the entire world. We must make it happen."

Yuyutsu, lost in thought, gazed at the sky, his mind racing with the enormity of what was unfolding.

Krishna, his tone light once again, teasing as only he could, added with a wink, "She agreed to the marriage, Yuyutsu. So, now you can dream of her in this form," he said, a mischief flickering in his eyes. "Go ahead, dream of the future. But remember, the task is far greater than we can fathom."

Yuyutsu exhaled, shaking his head as he spoke, "The day she knows... she will be hurt. She will know what you asked of her as a boon, and we've already seen how she reacted when she discovered it. Now, once again, you're placing this burden upon her, which will hurt her all over again."

Krishna's face grew solemn, but his resolve never wavered, "For the sake of Dharma, I am ready for anything," he said softly, his words firm with the weight of divine responsibility. "If this is the path we must walk, then so be it."

At that moment, Yuyutsu bowed his head, acknowledging the complexity of what lay ahead. Krishna watched him, his thoughts distant, before Mahadeva vanished into the air, leaving Krishna alone in his contemplation.

And as the echoes of the conversation faded, Krishna stood still, the mischief gone, replaced by a heavy silence. The weight of the decision had been made, and now, all that remained was to walk the path that had already been set in motion.