Subhadra speaks

Picking up the pieces

If you strolled through the palace at Dwaraka, the kitchens, the study halls, the prayer rooms, the residences, the summer houses in the gardens and even some of the magnificent halls where the council met and held court, the walls and pillars will share with you a myriad collection of tales, of rakish, debonair men, and exuberant, lively women, of which I might be one. But, I do not exaggerate when I say that they would unanimously declare Abhimanyu to be the best and beloved of Vasudev's family.

The enchanted halls of the palace at Indraprastha might wonder about their first residents, the heroic family of five brothers, who went away, never to return. Someday, I hope I might be able to visit them, and answer their queries, for it was within their walls that I experienced the bliss of a normal family life.

The chambers of the ancient palace of Hastinapur greeted me with the cool indifference due an insignificant stranger. They did not know then, that years down the line, I would be their dowager, and that the girl with me, the pale girl with light eyes, high cheekbones, and weary resignation, carried their future king in her womb.

Draupadi and I set to work, reorganizing the lives of the bereaved women who now made up for more than half the population. They availed our help with sullen smiles, castigating eyes, and sometimes open hostilities. It didn't help that we were among the few who were not in widow's garb. I divided the rest of my day between mundane tasks that kept the wheels of the household running, and attending to Uttara and the bereaved Kuru women, the ones who didn't shut their doors in my face.

My nights though, were filled with dreams, of me and my son in various stages of our life, doing perfectly ordinary things. I woke up trying to go back to sleep in feverish desperation, clawing through the unrelenting slab of ice that was my grief, to get back my lost dream.

As for Arjuna, the enduring, valiant hero of the battle, he stood tall in the revealing light of the sun, plunging stoically into his duties, and striving to put together a kingdom for his brother. But he allowed the darkness to engulf him at sundown. Some nights he chose grief and isolation as his companions, and there were other nights where he lay with his head on my chest and owing to his sleeplessness from the nights before, fell asleep in a matter of minutes.

And so the days passed, till it was time for Uttara to give birth. Krishna, as promised, arrived two days before. With him were Pradyumna, Charudesna and Samba, my sons' thickest companions. As I hugged them, I was caught unaware, both by the tears that sprang to my eyes, and the lightness that spread through my veins.

"You didn't think we would miss seeing his son, did you?" Pradyumna said.

"He became a grandfather before you, and wishes to flaunt it to you, Aunty." Samba  remarked.

"What have you named him? And how is the mother?"

"Vajranabha is his name. As for your second question, you must come and meet her yourself."  He lowered his voice. "Our mothers and grandmothers suspect you are purposely avoiding Dwaraka because you would be reminded of him."

"Why do they think so?" I asked Krishna as we sat in the terrace that evening. "Did you tell them I refused to come with you?" Even as I spoke, I wished I had gone with him. I wished I hadn't missed the consecratory rites that Father had performed for Abhimanyu. I wished I had stood with the citizenry of Dwaraka as they mourned their treasured son.

"I don't need to tell them anything, do I? Though they got the reason wrong." Krishna smiled. "You didn't come with me because of the curse."

"Yes." I met his gaze, speculative yet knowing, understanding yet questioning. "I'm preparing myself for a world without you all."