Subhadra speaks

Of wars won and lives lost

It appeared impossible, but we managed to sail past days of grim discussions, and charged atmosphere to the day of the wedding. The melodious tinkle of the bells and chimes that decorated our palace finally seemed to have reached the ears of Kama, for he graced our abode at last. He replaced with swiftness, the belligerent, dissatisfied undercurrents with swirling eddies of joy and hope, that accompany a union of love. Birds flitted around the vibrant gardens, welcoming our guests with their chirpy melodies.

"How resplendent he looks, our young lion, in the flame of his youth." Kunti remarked.

"With his lioness, albeit a very gentle one." Draupadi's lips curled at my comment.

"A gazelle." Rukmini corrected, and as always, she had the last word.

"Thank you for giving him this." I told Arjuna, overcome by a sudden emotion as we blessed them. "And thank you for giving me this, though I sometimes wonder if I really deserve it."

"If that is what you feel, I shall be happy to name my price." He said, a mischievous glint in his eye. "It is not difficult, given how you look today."  I beamed at this unexpected compliment.

After two days of good cheer and happiness, the guests departed and this pleasant interlude came to an end. Time drove us past his misty fog, to the point where we could espy the war that loomed on the horizon.

"Abhimanyu's prowess on the battlefield is exemplary." Arjuna told me one evening.

"I will be an adiratha, Mother." Abhimanyu added.

"That's wonderful!" My heart flowed with pride. "You have made me so proud, Abhi. So proud!"Abhimanyu laughed. "But Father insists I need your permission to participate in the war first. Can we assume I have your blessings?"

Not only did we have moral high ground in this battle, Krishna was on our side. The outcome of the war was clear to me. Besides, my son had trained under the very best. I did not understand my fleeting hesitation before I nodded.

"Why don't you think about it?" Arjuna said, ever perceptive.
"Mother, trust me. We may not have shared Father's hardships during exile, but this is the chance to make up for it, the chance we both were waiting for. And I won't let you down. I will make you proud, both of you."
It took me a while to find my voice. "Ask Uttara as well." I said, my eyes bright with tears.

Before we knew it, we stood on the ramparts of our fort, and watched our men march away to the battlefield at Kurukshetra. Clouds of dust followed in their wake, as did our eyes, beyond the fields, across the sinuous highway till it sneaked around a bend in the trees, and disappeared.
"They will be fine." Uttara said, as the dust settled, and I knew she spoke of her brothers and her husband. "This is but the first. There are many more to come."

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From the very first day of the war, Yama's attendants hung the banners of grief and mourning over the city as well as the palace. Messengers would arrive from the battlefield everyday, and every woman's heart would stop till they passed her house. I had already heard whispers about the palace, blaming Draupadi for causing this war. I wondered at the absurdity of this premise, for it was clear as day the only man responsible for all these deaths was the king of Hastinapur.

We visited them on the sixth day of battle. My son had changed a little, as expected. A grim purposefulness dominated his countenance, his smile had a hard edge, and in the flickering light of the lamp, I spotted a score of scars worthy of a veteran warrior. Uttara attended to him with lowered eyes. Her hands trembled as he described how he faced Bhishma and Drona on the very first day.