Natyam | A Mahabharata Fiction

17.

There was a grand portrait of Panchali and I in the main hall of Indraprastha. Our expressions were soft and yet firm; and the two women of the household looked . . . just divine. We were decked in gold, diamonds, emeralds and sapphires - countless jewels! Draupadi, in her classic flaming red sari sat on a makeshift throne and I, draped in my favourite violet coloured one, stood right beside the throne.

"So that we can watch over all of you!" Draupadi had declared while having it hung in the main hall. I remember smiling pleasantly at her words. I still do. In that portrait, we looked regal and beautiful, effortless and glorious. Women from another universe, if you will; that was the gravity of our drawing. But the making of it, however, was far more tedious.

"Amar!" I exclaimed as my son ran in between us and the royal painter. He was only two. Young legs with an easy, winning smile. My young son, Amar, had fair-skinned features. With Arjun's twinkling eyes and my own wild hair, he was a sight to see. And with our tenacity and desires, he was a force to reckon with. Even at two. He smiled at me and Draupadi.

"Badi Maa!" He called as he went to her, setting his hands on her lap and gazing up at her, awe and adoration shining on his face (he would do it for the rest of our lives, the little boy). My sister-in-law was smiling in a second. "Rajkumar Amar, how are you today?"

I groaned. "Don't encourage him, Didi!" I hissed in her ear. She gave no sign of having heard me.

I blinked.

She ignored me. Ignored me!

In a flash, three more sets of pattering feet rushed our way, looking for none other than our dear, sweet Amar. Soon, we were flooded by children.

"Amar," I called my son softly. He shifted towards me, hugging my feet. I smiled. "Amar, listen to me. Badi Maa and I are getting a painting done. If you keep running in the way, the painter will get distracted. Then the painting will be bad! Do you want that?"

I looked at his adorable face as he thought for himself. Then he looked up at me and shook his head.

"So you will play elsewhere?"

"Play later?" He asked me.

"Yes."

Joy overtook him again and he was off, whisking away his elder brothers with him. Draupadi watched on while I sighed and bent down to right my sari.

"You are too tough on him, Bhabhi." She spoke in a low tone.

"He needs to learn! And you need to be more stern with him. You give him too much agency. Then he runs around thinking he can get away with anything!"

She didn't take it personally. She only turned to me and said, "He is a child."

"And I will let him be one! Just not in the middle of when we're getting a portrait done!"

"What is your hurry?" She raised a brow.

I bit my tongue. Big mistake. Draupadi gave me quite a look. "Mrinali?"

"Radheya is coming soon."

She blinked. "Angaraj Karna is coming to meet you?" I nodded.

My sister-in-law really tried, I must say, to keep her reaction perfectly mild. But I noticed her breath hitch and her pupils dilate. She looked away from me and gazed at the floor.

I kept looking at her, waiting for something else. Nothing came.

"Uh, Maharani, Rajkumari," the painter called for us. "If you please."

Two heads returned to face the painter. We smiled and posed once more. Gone was the momentary distraction. We were both thinking it though. Sisters-in-law, indeed.

*****

Amar hugged almost everyone he met, wrapping his hands around the shins of adult guests. It is what he did to Radheya as he entered my palace.

My sakha gave my son a toothy smile as he lifted him up and put him on his shoulder.

Amar giggled happily.

They played together for sometime before he gave me the news. Detaching himself from Amar, Karna said to me, "We need to talk."

"What is the matter, sakha?"

"It's Hastinapur," he trailed off, brows pressed together, "there is some dissent regarding this new found Pandu wealth and success."

I did not take it as seriously. "They always have been. Why are you telling me this? What is coming up now? What is Duryodhan cooking up in that mind of his?"

There was a caustic laugh. I turned his way. Karna hardly ever laughed like that—crass and sarcastic. "It is–it is the uncle, dear friend. Every time I get Duryodhan to look at the brighter side, to focus on the goal. The goal being the throne itself, of course, that wily Shakuni gets in the way! He is poison, I tell you. Poison!"

I shifted in my skin. The uncle was stirring his pot of deceit again.

"What is that snake plotting?"

"To obliterate the Pandavas, of course!"

"Well, we know that, Radheya! What is the plan?"

"I am not sure. But you might want to tell Arjun to keep his guard up."

"What is that supposed to mean?" I asked, flabbergasted.

War? True outright war? Really? Could it go that far?

I observed Karna. He barely met my eye as we strolled in the gardens. He was hardly breathing, as if the idea itself burned him. Repulsed him. But there was fire in his eyes. The war would mean redemption for him. A redemption and proclamation, simultaneously. To make and clean his name. His eyes glowed.

I swallowed. "I will tell Arjun to inform Yudhishtira."

He simply nodded. And that was that.

*****

That night I walked into our chambers only to find my husband and son already on the bed. They were happily chatting away.

"Now, Amar, will you promise me that you won't run around with Maa and Badi Maa get their portraits done?" Arjun told the boy that was sitting on his lap.

Amar nodded and Arjun hugged him tightly. "Remember, a promise is a promise, Rajkumar."

"Yes, Papa. I love you, Papa."

Arjun chuckled, pulling him even closer, if that was possible. Amar squealed.

"You are the light of my life, Rajkumar Amar. I love you too!"

I walked to them, smiling softly. Settling in, I pressed against Arjun's side. He gazed at me warmly, placing a kiss on my forehead. We sat like that for a while. Until Amar was asleep in Arjun's arms. Wordlessly, we settled him between us, both of us setting a hand near our child.

I put my hand over Arjun's, my mind racing through my walk with Radheya. Arjun looked at me. "What is it, priye?"

I steeled myself.

"We need to talk."

*****

I thought a change in timing would be nice :)

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