The grand hall of Maharaj Dhritarashtra's palace was a testament to the opulence of Hastinapur. Majestic tall pillars adorned with intricate carvings of celestial beings and floral patterns stood proud, reflecting the grandeur of the kingdom. Rich tapestries depicting scenes from great epics covered the walls, and the air was filled with the faint scent of sandalwood, emanating from the incense burners placed strategically around the room.
Dhritarashtra sat on his grand throne, his face a canvas of deep contemplation. His unseeing eyes were closed, his thick brows furrowed in thought. The room's silence was interrupted by the firm yet respectful voice of a soldier who stood at the door.
"Mahamantri Vidur andar aane ki agya chahte hain, Maharaj," the soldier announced.
("Great Minister Vidur seeks permission to enter, Your Majesty.")
Dhritarashtra opened his eyes, though they gazed into nothingness, and nodded slightly, signaling his assent. The soldier bowed and stepped aside, allowing Vidur to enter. The minister, dressed in simple yet dignified attire, walked with calm confidence and stood beside Dhritarashtra's throne. Bowing slightly, he said, "Maharaj ki Jai ho!"
("Victory to the King!")
Dhritarashtra tilted his head in Vidur's direction and spoke with curiosity tinged with amusement.
"Aaj tumhari vani mein ek alag hi anand samaya hai, Vidur. Batao, kya khabar hai?"
("Today, there is a distinct joy in your voice, Vidur. Tell me, what is the news?")
Vidur's face broke into a pleased smile as he replied,
"Kampilya se badi hi khush khabri aayi hai, Maharaj."
("Great news has come from Kampilya, Your Majesty.")
Hearing this, Dhritarashtra rose from his throne, his excitement making his movements slightly unsteady. He placed a hand on Vidur's shoulder for balance and asked eagerly,
"Batao, Vidur, kya mere priya jyesth putra Duryodhan ne swayamvar jeet liya?"
("Tell me, Vidur, has my beloved eldest son Duryodhan won the swayamvar?")
Vidur shook his head, his expression steady yet unreadable.
"Nahi, Maharaj."
("No, Your Majesty.")
Dhritarashtra paused, his face reflecting his thoughts, then asked again with renewed hope,
"Toh kya putra Dushasan ne jeeta? Avashya usne hi jeeta hoga. Woh bhi toh bada pratapi hai."
("Then has my son Dushasan won? Surely he must have. He is also quite accomplished.")
Once again, Vidur shook his head and said,
"Nahi, Maharaj. Dushasan ne bhi nahi jeeta."
("No, Your Majesty. Dushasan has not won either.")
Dhritarashtra frowned slightly and leaned back as if searching for an explanation. With a tinge of impatience, he asked,
"Toh aur khushi ki baat kya hai, Vidur?"
("Then what is the good news, Vidur?")
Vidur's calm voice carried weight as he delivered the unexpected news.
"Swayamvar to aapke priya anuj-putra Arjun ne jeeta hai, Maharaj."
("The swayamvar has been won by your beloved nephew, Arjun, Your Majesty.")
Dhritarashtra's expression froze, his unseeing eyes widening in shock. His balance faltered, and he clutched Vidur's arm for support. The news seemed almost too much to bear as he asked in disbelief,
"Kya? Arjun ne? Aur mere anuj-putra zinda hain?"
("What? Arjun? And my nephews are alive?")
Vidur, ever composed, replied,
"Ji, Maharaj. Sabse badi khushi ki baat yeh hai ki aapke anuj-putra Varanavat ke hadse ke baad bhi jeevit hain."
YOU ARE READING
Time travel to dwapar yug
Historical Fiction**This is a purely fictional work, created with no intention of hurting or offending anyone's religious sentiments.** In modern India, historian and archaeologist Nisha Sharma, during a excavation process she suddenly got trapped inside groud due to...
