The Lost Flute

by sambhavami

Summary:

Balarama's visit to Vrindavan, a couple of decades after Krishna and Balarama's departure, opens up a floodgate of emotions, forcing their family to finally confront those rushed goodbyes and unfinished conversations from a time long lost.
TW: Mention of death, grief

Notes:

I am not following Vyasa's work to the letter. Thank you!

This work does not make use of GenAI tools in any shape or form on account of my strong belief that the use of such tools is a sacrilegious betrayal to human nature itself. Hence, if you are looking for such content, please feel free to not interact with my work. Thanks! :)

Chapter 1: An Open Door

If you ever sat atop the sturdy branches of the ancient banyan tree hugging the edge of Subala’s paddy field you would see in the distance, a narrow unpaved road coiling around the grasslands, flowing obediently into a quiet village just outside the grand old city of Mathura. So mundane a landscape, and yet gently embraced by the fickle river Yamuna, it exuded a rare defiance. Like every leaf on the trees and every blade of grass on ground, there was something decidedly different about this sleepy little village.

Here, the men laughed mechanically, and the women merely sighed. It was barely visited. Even mendicants, the men unfazed by most of life’s challenges, seemed eager to get out of there.  Something lingered in the very air of this town which made its visitors uneasy.

An unheard plea.

A sharp, drawn breath.

A sob stifled at the back of the throat.

It was as if time itself had stopped in shock. As though suddenly, the heart of the village itself had stopped beating. Here, the silence was deafening.

The little road wrapped around the hilly landscape and moved on to farther, better kingdoms. Like this road, the kingdom also remained unkempt, abandoned. This long winding road, gushing from Matsya into Panchala had seen a lot in its time.

At one point it had served as the primary road for the transport of government tributes travelling from all the nearby settlements to the city of Mathura. Numerous carts of fresh milk, butter and yoghurt had travelled across this slender street at the birth of each day, empty carts, and tired, content faces returning at dusk.

Throughout the day, this road had once bristled with leisurely travellers dawdling by with their heavy entourages, cunning businessmen striking deals and marching soldiers patrolling up and down its stretches. Among this hubbub of men had also rang the laughter of the young women who went along to mind the shops each morning in the city.

Then one day, a chariot had rolled on and away from the village. Scores of villagers had run behind it, calling it back, but it had never stopped.

Soon after, a royal messenger had appeared in the village square and announced that the village no longer needed to pay any tribute to the crown, and that had been that.

Soon after, the war had come, galloping across the broken, moss-ridden street. The Seventeen Years’ War. It had burned everything in its path, eventually forcing even the parliamentarians to flee to the other end of the known land. And the road had never been repaired after that.

---

The story of this village had begun a long, long time ago. At the time, when it used to keep its head down; silent in compliance, and keeping out of trouble. Nothing of import had ever happened in this little town of cowherds and farmers. The residents had gone about their own business for generations, passing their days breaking their backs on the city’s errands and losing the nights in liquor-fuelled merriment.

Then one night, shrouded in hailstorm, a man had come knocking, bearing an infant in his arms. The father had left, tears glistening in his eyes, and the babe had stayed.

In time, the child had grown up into a flute-bearing menace, beloved nevertheless. Passionate in his pursuits, the little boy had turned the little village on its head, challenging the mighty citadel and their little village alike. He had taught them to dream; he had lit in them such a fire that even when the war came, not a single villager deserted their post, choosing to take on the oncoming army by themselves, staying put even as the royal guards retreated.

In this pursuit, they had succeeded somewhat. Stalling the alien army at the borders of the village, they had stolen precious time, allowing the city dwellers to flee their homes with whatever little dignity they had left, before the wrath of the vengeful foreign emperor fell upon the rest of them.

Of course, the village had burnt in the process.

Even though the boy had then gone on to become a commander in the kingdom’s army, in the eyes of those villagers he had remained still the rambunctious little boy that had required help balancing the magical hillock which he had already balanced upon his little finger.

Hence, they had burnt, happily.

---

Balarama’s chariot kicked up dust on the rustic road as it rustled past the sun-soaked fields and bristling bushes of Mathura’s countryside. The scenery flew back swiftly, as the rather grandiose vehicle awkwardly rumbled down the ill-kept turns in its way. The sun was on its graceful path to kiss the horizon. Balarama’s arm lay wrapped around the half-asleep young girl seated beside him. She had covered her mouth with the end of her dress to hide her yawns, even as she rested her head on his shoulders. This journey had been long and arduous, but it was finally drawing to a close.

“Can I ask you a question, Rama?” The girl asked quietly, nudging at her brother.

“You know you don’t need my permission, Bhadre.” Balarama smiled down at her. Subhadra was his younger sister, born almost two decades after him and his half-brother. Balarama had practically raised his sister and it was no surprise that she held a very special place in his heart. His first daughter, he often joked.

Subhadra smiled briefly, “Rama, I’ve always heard how great of a flautist Kanha is, but I’ve never seen him play. He always makes excuses when I ask. Did he not enjoy playing the flute?” She looked up at her brother, the burning sunlight reflecting sharply off of her crystal hazel eyes. Balarama looked down at her. Even though she was his mother’s daughter, she had inherited the deep, thoughtful nature of their half-brother.

Balarama shifted slightly in his seat, “Who told you that?” He hesitated for a moment before continuing, “He and that flute used to be inseparable. We wouldn’t be able to pry it even from his sleeping hands!” He chuckled to himself at the distant memory of his baby brother wrestling him for that darned flute. He would win too!

“Why doesn’t he play now?” Subhadra asked.

Balarama sighed. Nothing got past this girl! He shook his head, “I don’t know Bhadre, maybe he’s just too busy to be indulging a hobby right now.”

“Is that why he didn’t come with us today?”

“Probably,” Balarama lied.

Suddenly, he sat up straight in his seat, “Look, there’s our Vrindavana! Do you see those stone houses across the horizon? That’s the village! And to the west, those are the pastures. From sunrise to sunset, that is where we lived! Nanda-baba used to teach us every day- in the morning follow the sun but when he sets, you turn and run! I must tell you the stories about all the times we got lost in the forests and nearly forgot that little poem!”

Balarama stood up from the cushioned seat of the chariot, waving frantically at a man across the field, “Hey Madhu. Madhu!” He jumped down from the slowing chariot and ran towards the man, who at once dropped his sickle and ran towards Balarama. No sooner had Balarama pulled the man into a tight embrace than a small crowd gathered around them. It wasn’t everyday a golden chariot drove through the old street. A few young boys bounced back to the village to announce their arrival. The farmers and the gopas stood with folded hands as Balarama inquired about their lives.

Lost in this long-anticipated stream of conversation, Balarama had not even noticed the sun disappearing into the horizon streaked by the dense forest. Only as some villagers approached them carrying torches, he turned to Subhadra with a broad smile, “Come on then! We can walk the rest of the way!”

After a few steps, Balarama stopped in his path and turned as he waited for the torchbearers who had fallen a few steps behind. Subhadra was walking slowly, with her heavy, bejewelled skirt held up high as she trod carefully on the muddy, uneven road even as five villagers attempted to light the way as best they could. He laughed at his sister, “I probably should have told you to wear a simpler dress!”

“Well,” Subhadra raised an eyebrow, “You did say I was going to meet some of the most important people in your life. You can’t fault me for trying to impress!” Though her tone was soaked in sarcasm, she smiled warmly.

Balarama laughed heartily back as he took a torch from one of the villagers, “Come on, walk with me!” He said as he put an arm around her, leading her through the smoother corners of the road. In the distance, little beads of light appeared one by one as the village braced for the oncoming frigid night.

---

Standing at the gates of the modest stone villa, Balarama looked around him, his brows furrowing in irritation. No one stood at the gate to welcome them. The villa itself stood coldly against the mud outhouses surrounding it. Many corners of it had fallen into disrepair. The walls bore marks from arrows that had been pulled out of them and holes which were never then patched up. There were no extra lights lit or auspicious flower garlands hung. Balarama ran his fingers delicately across the wall as he drew a sharp breath. That was not how he had remembered this house. Shuddering, almost as if he were touching the wounds of an injured soldier, “That’s strange,” he said, almost to himself, “Are they not home? But the others would’ve told us if they weren’t!”

He cautiously walked up the stairs leading up to the heavy, wooden gate. The door was unlocked. As usual, he thought. He walked into the sprawling courtyard, Subhadra trailing along awkwardly. In the inner sanctum, under the archway, stood a dark figure. Balarama smiled as he saw the man. He leaned on a pillar, a long scroll sprawled out in front of him.

“Grand gestures are for strangers; my son can walk right in.” The man’s booming voice travelled down the open space, reverberating around in the walls.

His previous annoyance melting away at once, Balarama dashed to embrace the man, both of them tearing up slightly. He turned and beckoned his sister, still gripping the man’s arm like his life depended on it, “Subhadre, he is our Nanda-baba, and baba, this is my Bhadra, our little sister!”

Subhadra smiled politely and went to touch his feet, apparently unaware of the fact that Nanda had gone white as a sheet. Balarama, shooting him a quick glance, swiftly ushered his sister towards one of the guest rooms.  As he walked through the halls of the sprawling, unkempt house, Balarama felt a strange sense of melancholy enveloping him. Subconsciously, as he walked, he ran his fingers along the wall, tracing the half-eroded carvings, as he blabbed on pointlessly at his sister.

As he led Subhadra into one of the guest rooms, she asked him, “Is this the room you used to live in?”

Balarama laughed and shook his head, “Krishna and I used to share a room upstairs. Maybe maiya Yashoda can show you in the morning. I wouldn’t want to, you know...” His voice trailed off as he sighed, “Not my house anymore.”

“It’s okay,” Subhadra whispered as she gave his hand a discreet squeeze. Reflecting the light of a burning lamp, her wide eyes were laden with tenderness. She had always been exceptionally perceptive, “I wouldn’t want to hurt her.” She smiled at her brother, the softness in her eyes disappearing as soon as it had come. She playfully pushed her brother out of the room, “Now get out!” Balarama laughed as he shook his head, letting himself be guided out by his sister.

It simultaneously elated and terrified him whenever he reflected upon how alike his younger brother and sister were.

---

Balarama walked out into the courtyard to find Nanda pouring soma into two large chalices. He sat down beside the old man, “I probably should have told you I was bringing her.” He whispered, “But then again, you would have found some excuse to turn me down.”

The secret of what had happened on that night all those years back had been kept between them for a long time. Balarama had been told of the fateful exchange as soon as he had turned old enough to keep his mouth shut. Even then, Balarama himself had put off telling Krishna for a long time. When he had finally divulged this secret, for a long time, he had held himself responsible for how his little brother had never seen Nanda in the same light again.

“Yes. You should have told me,” Nanda turned away. He still appeared pale; his fingers taut, almost white, against the copper chalice.

“Come on, baba, you can’t do this to yourself,” Balarama took a sip, “It was a tough call you made. There was always going to be only one survivor: Kanha or her. I myself have lain awake several nights pondering what I would have done in your position. Before it was so simple- save the saviour, but ever since our Shashi came to us, I simply cannot bring myself to make a decision! I love Kanha more than my life, but I do not think I would have been able to give up my Shashi, even if it was his life on the line!”

Nanda shuddered, “I do not care how brave people say I was. Do not tell me how Kamsa was the one who killed her. I sent her to him! I made that decision, to end one life for another. There is blood on my hands that will never be washed away.”

“Subhadra is innocent in this. How is it fair to punish her?” Balarama pressed further, “You do not know her like I do. That girl understands everything! I don’t like to see her unhappy.”

“I am not punishing her. Haven’t you heard the rumours? They say she is her. Reborn! How can I look in those eyes after what I’ve done?”

Balarama refilled Nanda’s chalice, “I get it, baba, but the rumours are baseless. She is her own person. She doesn’t deserve to be seen as someone she is not. Also, is it fair to replace her? She was after all the one who gave herself to give us victory, in more ways than one! She gave us our Kanha! Is it so easy to replace her sacrifice with another child?! Subhadra deserves a chance to have you in her life in the same way as we have!” Balarama took a large swig out of his glass, “Besides, where’s Yashoda-maa, does she not want to see us?”

---

Yashoda had locked herself in her bedchamber once the village boys had brought news of their arrival.

Krishna had not come with them.

An overwhelming emptiness had suddenly engulfed her. She had watched Balarama enter the house through a crack in the heavy curtains that hung from her bedroom window. He had come up to her room to talk to her after dinner but she had not answered. After knocking at her door for a few minutes, he had left.

Nevertheless, she had stayed awake all night, pacing up and down the room. Up until then, everything had seemed surreal. Always, at the back of her mind, there had been this faint, little hope that her Krishna would return to her and that everything would then return to normal. Once again, the brothers would go out with the advent of each dawn to graze the cows on the pastures and return home at night.

The sight of Balarama walking in with their new sister, without Krishna, had suddenly made everything so very real. It had felt to Yashoda, at that very moment, like the invisible wall between her and her Krishna had finally cemented.

---

As the sun rose, Yashoda straightened her mostly undisturbed bed and went out to face another bland, ordinary day.

Outside, she found the young princess standing in the centre of the corridor, her curious eyes darting to-and-fro across the scenery of walls and pillars in front of her. The eyes that seemed to, at once, know everything and nothing of the world. Her long hair was tied back neatly in a tight braid which now lay across her shoulder, cascading past her waist. She wore a simple yellow dress laden in ambers and golden pearls, reminding Yashoda starkly of someone else.

In the darkness of the night, Yashoda had not realized how much she resembled Balarama. And yet, her mannerisms reminded Yashoda of her Kanha.

As she caught a glimpse of the older woman, Subhadra adjusted her posture in a regal fashion, but her eyes remained lowered in deference.

“May I know who you are?” Yashoda asked, forcing a smile, although in her mind she had no doubt.

The girl looked up, her eyes smiling already, “I am Princess Subhadra, daughter of the great Prince Vasudeva and the pious Princess Rohini of Mathura, granddaughter of the illustrious King Ugrasena of the renowned family of Yadavas, ruler of the kingdoms of Mathura and Dwarika, niece of the distinguished Lord Nanda, ruler of Gokula and Vrindavana, and sister to the unparalleled warriors- Prince Balarama, viceroy of Mathura and Prince Krishna, viceroy of Dwarika.”

Subhadra’s words seemed like a twisting knife lodged in Yashoda’s heart. The one this girl spoke of, was Devaki’s son, not hers! Still, the girl was innocent, she thought to herself as she forced herself to smile once more. Clearly, the girl had been taught to parrot off her titles from a young age.

She smiled at the girl, “I am Lady Yashoda, Consort to the Lord of the realms of Gokula and Vrindavana, Mistress of the household you currently grace, and maiya to anyone who’s interested.”

Subhadra’s eyes lit up. Dropping the regal demeanour, she sighed with relief, “I hate having to do that, maiya! Rama makes me practice that every morning! He says how we conduct ourselves must always reflect the standing of our illustrious family!” She laughed, twirling her skirt and jingling her stone bangles.

Yashoda laughed, her mind easing despite itself, “Yes, Rama does find happiness in perfection. I see no reason why he shouldn’t inculcate the same values in his sister.”

Chapter 2: What-Ifs Entwined

Yashoda unravelled her long braid as she beckoned Subhadra over. She had decided, over the previous night, to make peace with her presence and her brother’s absence, despite the constant lacerations at her heart.

Still, in her mind, there remained an itching desire to test the remnants of her ties to Krishna through this young girl. She wished to see if even a lick of the simple soil of Vrindavan had reached Dwarika or had the glitz and glamour of Mathura prevailed in the end.

Pointing at a matki hanging from the doorframe she said, “Do me a favour and boil a cup of milk for your brother. His favourite glass is on the top shelf, on the cabinet at the back of the kitchen. I had his favourite utensils all cleaned yesterday. He will be up soon, and I need to take a bath. If you so wish, make yourself something to eat too. Do you know how to do these things?”

Subhadra smirked to herself. She had heard enough about her ‘auntie Yashoda’ from both her mother and brothers to know when she was being tested. She shook her head, but replied enthusiastically, “I know all sorts of things, maiya! I can fight, cook, hunt, drive chariots, build mud houses and camouflage in forests! So, milk will not be a problem.”

Yashoda drew a sharp breath but maintained her composure. Of course! Ever since the war, even young girls in the neighbourhoods of Gokula had been taught basic fighting. Obviously, thriving at the epicentre of trouble, Krishna would have taken care to educate his little sister.

“I keep forgetting you are a child of war.” Yashoda shook her head, “Anyway, you are such a talkative girl! You and Krishna, the two chatterboxes, must drive Rama crazy back in the city?” She exhaled from a blend of sadness and relief, her eyes watering slightly. It had been years since she had said Krishna’s name out loud. Most days, Yashoda couldn’t bring herself to even think of his name. It hurt too much.

Subhadra continued talking excitedly, oblivious to the change in her expression, “Oh, Krishna doesn’t talk at all! Sometimes, it seems like he isn’t even listening. I could talk to him for ages and he wouldn’t remember a thing later!”

Yashoda turned to face the girl, her brow furrowing, “What do you mean he doesn’t talk?”

Subhadra shook her head, “He takes due interest in the happenings of the family, but something is always amiss. All his words are so carefully measured. Especially since he and Rukmini lost the child-” Subhadra sighed, “Never mind, I shouldn’t speak so lightly of the tragedy.”

Yashoda turned away, still deep in thought.

Of course, she had heard of the tragedy, and then she had quietly put away the sweater she had been knitting at the back of a suitcase, under a musty, old blanket.

She had, however, not imagined the effect it might’ve had on her son. She’d been too afraid to. All of a sudden, images had flooded her brain, of Krishna and his young wife waking up to find their firstborn gone forever. The two of them desperately cradling an empty blanket, numb in shock.

Her mind went back to the wretched day when that wretched Akroora had come with the wretched news that had shattered her world. God forbid you ever have to go through it, she had yelled. At Krishna. When she had found out the secrets he’d been keeping from her. Of course, she hadn’t meant any of it, but still...

Yashoda abruptly wiped the tears welling up in her eyes, and hurried out the door, lest that pesky girl see her face.

---

Nanda stood on his balcony staring absentmindedly at the garden below. He knew the princess was innocent in the throes of his guilt, but he could barely bring himself to look at her.

So long as Krishna had lived under his roof, Nanda had never allowed himself to think about the lost child lest he grew resentful toward the living one. However, ever since the brothers had left, Nanda had found himself questioning the divine plan again and again.

Many times, over the past decades, he had gone over that night, wondering if there was anything he could have done differently. He sighed. Yashoda had never truly forgiven him. After that day, they had hardly spoken outside of necessity. He guessed he should be considering himself lucky that she hadn’t left his house altogether, but he couldn’t help being resentful at times. It’s not like he had enjoyed making that choice!

Nanda’s mind wandered back to one sultry summer night, a few months after Krishna’s departure.

He had just finished reading one of the rare letters from Krishna, “Yashode, the boys would be leaving to go to a great gurukula down south.”

He had walked up to Yashoda standing in the darkness and taken her palms in his, “Why do you not speak, Yashoda? Are you not happy for the boys?”

Yashoda had jerked her hands away, “It would take a very selfish mother to not be happy at her sons’ success. However, given I have no children, my reaction hardly matters. As a distant aunt of the two princes, I am ecstatic.” Even in the light of the sputtering lamp by the door, he had seen her lips quiver, and heard the shiver in her voice.

“Surely, Yashode, you can’t blame me! I had no choice!” Nanda had pleaded, for the umpteenth time since he had left the boys in the city. Even in darkness, Nanda had seen her eyes blaze.

“Of course, you didn’t!” She had said through gritted teeth, “You could not have done anything differently at all! You could definitely not have woken me up! We could certainly not have taken all three of the children and ridden away under the cover of the night! Let us not forget, that Kamsa did not walk into my bedroom and rip my child from my sleeping arms. You did.”

“It was part of a greater plan. A divine plan. How could I have gone against God himself?” Nanda had punched the pillar beside him in frustration.

“What God, Nanda?” Yashoda had replied in an icy tone laced with disgust, “I could have forgiven everything, only if you had not lied to my face for seventeen years! Everybody knew, even the boys! Just not me. None of you thought I was worthy of being trusted with this little fact concerning my life. What did you think, Nanda? Would I have treated Krishna differently if I knew at what cost I’d gotten him? What did I ever do for you, my husband, to think of me so lowly?”

“Yashode, I only meant to shield you from the pain! I wanted to ensure you didn’t bear the blood of that little girl on your hands as well!” Nanda had said through his tears.

“All you managed to do was make sure I lost two children at once.” Yashoda had said in a heavy voice. Then she had turned away, “Anyway, let’s not do this anymore. I would hate to be another source of worry for the boys. Let us keep out of each other’s way and carry on with our lives, separately.”

Yashoda had then stormed out of their bedroom, taking up permanent residence in their guest quarters.

Nanda pulled himself back to reality. There was no point putting it off any further. He had to face the girl sooner or later.

---

“Hello,” Nanda said softly. The girl turned to face him.

“Maiya has gone to take a bath. She asked me to keep an eye on the milk.” She said with a smile.

“And, are you?” He asked.

Subhadra turned back and gasped, “How is it already boiling over? I promise I just put it on there!”

Nanda pulled up his dhoti and squatted beside the stove, poking at the matki with a pair of tongs, attempting to find the best way to take it off of the fire.

Nanda felt the girl hovering over him, the end of her dress cascading over his shoulder.

“What use will that be, baba?” The girl gently asked with a pitiful smile.

Nanda sniffed. He wasn’t sure what was making his eyes water: the smoke or her words.

Subhadra laughed as she grabbed the pot with a piece of cloth around its mouth, pouring it carefully into a tall glass before her, “Shall I pour you out a cup too, baba?”

Nanda shook his head. Subhadra asked, “Something else then? I could whip you up a quick breakfast before maiya returns.”

Nanda smiled despite himself, “You’re a guest in our house, dear. You shouldn’t be doing any of this.”

Subhadra squatted down beside him, startling him briefly before he composed himself. She shook her head, pulling a face, “Weren’t you the one who was saying how your children don’t need grand gestures, and now you’re treating me like a stranger!”

Nanda couldn’t help but smile, “You are just like your brother. Talking circles around me already! Fine, make something, and we can eat together.”

Subhadra laughed and immediately pranced into the kitchen. Nanda followed her and sat down on the threshold. His heart felt like someone was squeezing till it hurt. If that child had survived, she would’ve been in her thirties, surely married by now. Before that, maybe she would have cooked him breakfast just like this young girl dancing around in front of him. They could have had a perfectly ordinary life!

No one would’ve known if he had turned Vasudeva down that night. No one would’ve even blamed him. He would have eventually forgotten the nameless dark child that had turned up on his door on that ridiculous, stormy night. He could’ve dismissed it all as a bad dream.

Nanda was jerked out of the trail of his thoughts by Subhadra’s lilting laughter.

She arranged the plates on the floor itself, “You and maiya both say such strange things about Krishna. It makes me think, either you misjudged him greatly, or he needs help, like yesterday!”

Nanda nodded, forcing himself to look into her brown eyes for the first time. With a jolt, he remembered his son. The same dancing, deep, hazel eyes. Vasudeva! Nanda smiled to himself, as he realized where she’d gotten them.

“You could come with us this time!” Subhadra continued enthusiastically, as Nanda took a seat beside her, “Krishna will be thrilled to see you both!”

“Will he really, my dear? After all that I’ve done?” Nanda sighed, “And why are you so kind to me? Do you not know what I’ve done?”

Subhadra gently held his large hands in her rather tiny ones, “I am not here to judge, baba. I only know from all that Krishna says, or rather from what he doesn’t say, that he misses you both terribly.” She looked down, her eyebrows furrowed, “Truth to be spoken, in all the years I’ve known him, I’ve seen Krishna smiling all the time, but I’ve never seen him happy. When I finally started hearing bits and pieces of his story, I realized, or rather I hoped, the answer would lie here in this old village, with you two.”

“You put me on a pedestal too high dear. I’m not worthy of such an honour.” Nanda pulled his hand back and focused on the food on his plate. For a few minutes, both of them continued to sit in silence. Subhadra fidgeted with the gemstones on her dress as Nanda ate.

Subhadra broke the silence after a while, “Just come with us. You both can come as my guests! Get to know the new Krishna, and see if you can find the old one hidden somewhere in there.” Subhadra slipped her fingers through his once more, holding tight. She looked intently into the eyes of the old man, “You think you are punishing yourself by hiding out here, away from the rest of the world, but who is really the one being punished?”

Nanda stared at the princess for a long time. Those eyes! He had never been able to say no to those precious eyes. The stories she told, especially about her brother, tugged at his heart. He wished to run to Dwarika right that instant, and he wished he had done so decades earlier. Truly, the denial of the offer to move to Dwarika with him so many years back had been born out of a deep-seated guilt rather than any overflowing nationalism. Even after the war, Balarama had tried several times to take them for a visit. Every time Nanda had turned him down.

In his mind, Nanda smiled at Balarama’s diplomacy. In the absence of Krishna, he had brought along the only other person even remotely capable of swaying Nanda’s resolve.

Nanda sighed, “Fine, but you must convince your maiya. I’m afraid she has forgiven neither me nor your brothers after all that has happened.”

Chapter 3: A Golden Bridge

Yashoda stood frantically stuffing her sarees and scarves in a little, patterned, leather suitcase when a bright-eyed woman appeared in the doorway.

“Maiya,” The woman called out. Her beautiful visage burned like fire as the last rays of the setting sun bathed her. Her dress was dishevelled, its now-faded colour reminiscent of the night sky that the sun was about to set into.

“Radhe!” Yashoda exclaimed with joy, as she pulled the woman into a warm embrace. “It’s been so long! Do you not miss us?” Yashoda complained lightly.

Radha shook her head absentmindedly as she stood playing with her long, unruly curls. Yashoda continued packing, knowing it usually took the woman some time so as to wrestle herself into opening up about whatever she wanted to talk about. In all these years, if anything, Yashoda had learnt to give her time.

After a long pause, Radha whispered, “I heard from the other women that you were going to visit him. Dwarika is such a long way from here, so I thought I’d come and see you before you began your journey.” She leaned on the bedpost, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the rich carvings on the wood, as her eyes glazed over the fabrics scattered over the bed.

Yashoda smiled kindly, “Yes! That pesky Subhadra finally talked me into going. Krishna is performing some yajna. She invited us on the occasion!” Yashoda’s face fell, “I’m so sorry, my dear. I should’ve invited you sooner. I just didn’t know how to ask you, when it was my child that left you behind!”

“He is doing yajnas now, eh? Never thought I’d see the day!” She laughed fondly, “I did not come here to ask you to take me with you, maiya. I just came to say goodbye!” Radha said softly.

Yashoda clucked in disapproval, “Why not, Radha? Come as my companion, I am sure your family will not object!”

Radha hesitated for a moment, but continued, “My family is not the problem. I just don’t want to go.” Yashoda shook her head, a little annoyed. Radha was as impossible to read as Krishna at times. Why had she come running here if she didn’t want to go?!

Yashoda sighed nevertheless, “I know! You must be very upset with him! I understand. You must be thinking that he got married to those other women and then forgot all about you!”

Radha chuckled, “Radha is not someone you just forget maiya. Even now, after so many years, with just one word from me,” she snapped her fingers, “He will come running from his Dwarika and fall at my feet! Still, I trust my Krishna. If he chose to get married, his queens must be remarkable. It’s not so easy to move on after you’ve known me!”

Radha continued with a smile, even as her breaths grew more ragged, “Whatever it may look like, I am happy for him. Believe me when I say that I pray every day; I practically beg the Gods that he may forget me. How will he be truly happy unless he does? You might ask me maiya, do I not love him anymore? Tell me this, who in this entire world has ever gotten over your son?”

Radha sighed again, “If you must know, we did not part willingly. We only gave each other up in the face of his destiny. Let us not fool ourselves into thinking that the society that tore us apart all those years ago will let us reunite in peace now. Like it or not, he and I are done. I refuse to reopen this old wound for just a moment’s delight!”

Radha forcefully wiped a tear from her cheek, “Think of him also, maiya! He will be torn apart if we come face to face again. I cannot in good conscience put him through that!”

Radha started laughing suddenly. Yashoda looked at her, puzzled. Radha said, “I am just so happy for you maiya! You will get to see him, touch him and listen to him! Oh, what wouldn’t I give to have just a glimpse of him, but alas, that is not to be! You know, the greater good and all that nonsense?” Radha gripped Yashoda’s palms, almost pushing her back against the bed, “Promise me, you’ll bring me back something of his? Even if it is a scrap of cloth he touched or something that he threw away! Don’t tell him it’s for me, just get me something?”

Yashoda felt her eyes well up as she pulled the now sobbing Radha close to her chest, running her fingers through her dishevelled locks of hair.

---

Yashoda leaned back against the cushion on the seat of the chariot. The journey from Vrindavan to Dwarika had been long and tiring. It did not help that their escort to the city, one of the Yadava cousins, loved to talk. It seemed as if he had resolved to pour out the entirety of his knowledge of the lands they crossed even before they reached their destination. Only now had he retreated to his own chariot to rest for a bit, after half a day of constantly jumping back and forth between Nanda and Yashoda’s steeds. Yashoda let her mind wander back to Vrindavan for a bit.

The villagers had packed so much food into the chariots to take to the boys that Yashoda hardly had any place to sit. They had all insisted their names be written on their gifts, with instructions to Yashoda to bring back a list of all those Krishna remembered. Yashoda had laughed and cried as they had bid her goodbye.

Radha had come to see them off as well. She had walked alongside the chariot all the way up to the edge of the village, laughing and joking the entire way. However, Yashoda had noticed her puffy, red eyes, and how the girl had kept turning away to stifle silent sobs, trying not to upset them on their way.

Ever since Krishna had left, the poor girl had been left completely mentally exhausted. Yashoda had heard from the gossiping villagers about how Radha had left her family home and lived in a makeshift cottage by the river bank. People had also found her talking to birds and trees as she wandered through the forests of Vrindavan. Whenever Yashoda thought of Radha, she felt a painful twinge in her heart. Despite the fact that she had had no idea about their relationship before Krishna had left, Yashoda still felt responsible. As though she herself had somehow let down the poor woman.

Even though the villagers nattered on incessantly about her apparent insanity, Yashoda had spotted a rare resolve in Radha. This was a person who lost the only thing in her life that she actually cared about and still refused to give in and break into pieces. Only if life had been a little kinder!

Once the chariot had left the bounds of the city, Yashoda had leaned into the soft, cushioned seats. Balarama and Subhadra had returned by faster transport and left their cousin to guide the older couple.

This was the first time Yashoda had travelled this far from her home. Even her natal home had been in the neighbouring village, which remained hardly an hour’s determined walk.

As the vehicles made their way through quaint villages, vicious forests, and bristling cities, even as her anticipation for meeting Krishna mounted, nearly driving her to illness, Yashoda couldn’t help but feel a little excited for each new adventure that lay ahead of her.

Every new day brought along new people staring at their entourage, soon to be won over by Yashoda’s sweet conversation. Out of the corner of her eyes, she would find Nanda staring at her. Sometimes she glared at him, making him turn away, especially if they were in a township, but mostly she ignored him.

Truth be told, his admiring looks didn’t enrage her like before. She still however made it a point to avoid him in private, hardly speaking a word in his presence.

Soon the quaint roads of Gokula seemed like a distant memory, as the chariot took Yashoda further and further. With the horses’ gallant pace kicking off a trail of dust in their wake, Yashoda allowed herself to imagine her little boy as the leader of this new kingdom at the edge of the earth. Dwarikadheesh, the bards sang, not the king, but the founder.

While she had always known that her son was meant for bigger things, she had, never even in her wildest dreams, imagined that he would end up where he did. He was clearly powerful, with a nice, happy family, and yet from Subhadra’s words, Yashoda had sensed a crevice. Amidst all the glitter and glamour, a facade had cracked open wide enough for one silent cry for help to cross three rivers and a desert.

---

“Auntie!” Yashoda was shaken from her reverie by the cheerful voice of Satyaki, their escort. They had reached the gates of Dwarika. “Auntie, the chariot only comes this far. Do you see that stone bridge over the ocean? That will lead us right into the city. Shall I order a palanquin to be brought over?”

Yashoda declined with a smile. She’d had enough of the boy’s overenthusiasm over the past month that they had spent on the road. She didn’t like being fussed over by anyone. Instead, she walked up to the beach, feeling the dark, uneven rocks, steady and unmoving beneath her feet. Nanda had already started walking through the bridge, clearly impressed with the grandeur that lay ahead of them.

Every shikhara of the city, built on an imposing island off the coast, was wrapped in gold. The buildings were painted in varied, attractive colours. The moon-marked flag of the Yadavas flapped proudly over the tallest spires as the pleasant sea wind coursed through the city.

“Is that real gold on the pavement I see?!” Nanda exclaimed as he bent to take a closer look.

Satyaki nodded, laughing, “Well, we had some excess and couldn’t figure out where else to put it!” He explained.

Nanda nodded in admiration, “And this bridge? We heard of the Rama-setu, and now you guys seem to have figured that one out as well! How did you pull this off?”

“Oh, Krishna hired some fancy architect who took care of the science for us. We don’t usually get involved in such cosmetic matters!” Satyaki beamed as Nanda raised a brow.

Yashoda let the men walk on ahead of her. Engrossed in their discussion, they hardly noticed her falling behind. Sighing, she cautiously placed a foot on a rock beyond the marked road, feeling the water slipping back and forth through her toes. The beach here wasn’t like the ones she had heard described before. There was hardly any sand to be felt under one’s feet, only prickly, dark rocks. The waves too broke at her feet with far greater a ferocity than she had expected.

The ocean splashing up against her feet made her feel strangely giddy. She had always wanted to see the ocean ever since she had been a little girl who had loved nothing more than getting to fall asleep listening to the late-night stories told by the passing bards in the village squares.

She turned away from the dazzling city and took a deep breath. The salty air seemed to dissolve all the stress from the arduous journey. She felt rejuvenated to the bone itself. The ever-stretching skyline of emptiness seemed to fascinate her. Was she truly standing on the edge of earth itself, she seemed to wonder. Why had Krishna chosen this place to be their haven?

The past few decades had been tough on their family. Terrorized first by Kamsa, then Jarasandha! Yashoda wondered if choosing this island, in the middle of nowhere, was Krishna’s frustration finally seeping in through the cracks.

A long, long time ago, Yashoda had asked the clairvoyant rishi Garga when he had come over to perform Krishna’s naming ceremony- back when she had still known him to be her own flesh and blood, “Swami, how much happiness will my lalla get in his life?” She had asked the sage with the sight.

“He will bring endless joy to anyone who sets their eyes on him,” the rishi had replied. No matter in how many ways Yashoda had reframed her question, the rishi had stood firm in his answer.

Yashoda sighed as she now wondered if Krishna was happy at all.

Chapter 4: The Cold Tower

For the first eleven days of the festival, the royal palace of Dwarika seemed rather small in the face of the hordes of brahmins, kshatriyas and other ordinary people who had flocked to the island in the hopes of generous donations and temporary work.

Krishna himself remained engaged in performing the yajna from sunrise to sunset. Throughout the day, Yashoda sat knitting on the balcony overlooking the yajna grounds, her parched gaze stuck perpetually on Krishna. Once she had seen him again, she felt as though she couldn’t bear to let him out of her sight for another single moment!

Alas, despite however much she wanted to keep him close to herself, at night she had to let him go.

Every time Krishna left the altar at moonrise, hordes of people would throw themselves at his feet, hoping for just a sideways glance or to have their outstretched palms even lightly brush against his feet. Yashoda would watch enraptured, as Krishna would patiently work his way through the crowd, smiling and interacting kindly with the people that gathered around him. Yashoda could never see where Krishna went from the yajna grounds. The crowd always seemed to cut him off her sight.

From time to time, however, she did manage to get some updates from his wives, Satyabhama and Jambavati. Apparently, after the day’s prayers, Krishna would recede to the dinner grounds to oversee the guests’ meal. He would go to bed past the second prahara of the night, only to rise before sunrise the next day. “Doesn’t he get tired?” Yashoda would exclaim, “How much longer can he keep this up?!”

Satyabhama would laugh sadly, “Good luck getting him to understand that! He is too concerned with the well-being of the citizens to care for his own health.”

“I thank the Gods every day that this yajna lasts only eleven days!” Jambavati would add.

At times Yashoda felt a strong urge to simply run to him, but in these internal battles reason prevailed. Surely, having his former foster mother fawning over him in public would not reinforce the image Krishna was looking to build.

Moreover, Yashoda hadn’t met his actual parents yet. At least not after Krishna had reunited with them. Nanda had met them briefly when they had arrived, but Yashoda had been too proud to ask him how it had gone.

Balarama made it a point to visit her at least once a day, and Subhadra checked in on them at mealtimes, but apart from that no one in the family had really made an effort to come see her. Though outwardly they were being treated like elite guests, Yashoda reasoned that her position in Krishna’s complicated history had made it quite difficult for anyone in his family to reach out to her without significant awkwardness. Truth be told, she preferred the aloofness to the people sucking up to her just to get in Krishna’s good graces.

However, on the auspicious days, when she completed her religious rituals quietly, her back against the wall, seated awkwardly in one corner of the city temple instead of at the centre, surrounded by the women of her tribe, she found herself sorely missing her quiet, little village.

She would stare longingly at Rohini, now reinstated in her rightful place at the heart in Vasudeva’s household.

Yashoda had been startled at first to see the change in Rohini’s demeanour. Her face seemed to radiate a glow of contentedness, a bright smile always lighting up any room she walked into. Despite spending all those years living and working at each other’s side, Yashoda had never known that Rohini could sing.

Now as she listened to her best friend’s lilting voice filling up the beautiful room at the juncture of each night and day, accompanied by her daughter and daughter-in-law, Yashoda couldn’t help an ill-conceived pang of jealousy rise through her throat, which she promptly pushed in much deeper into her heart and clapped dutifully at the end of each melody.

---

Nanda had already met his former superior Vasudeva and his wife Devaki on the day they had arrived.

He had been horrified to find Vasudeva still twitching at the faintest noise, and Devaki mostly lost in her own thoughts. Their long imprisonment under Kamsa’s reign had clearly left its mark on the two of them. Rohini had been too busy to meet them in person. In fact, Nanda and Yashoda had not gotten to meet her till several days later.

As a result, the responsibility for catering to them had fallen mostly on Balarama’s wife, the princess Revati. Nanda had been a little disappointed at first at her apparent disregard, but Revati had quickly won him over with her attention to detail and a rather dry sense of humour.

To him, however, the best part of this trip so far had been Revati’s little daughter Shashirekha. The toddler had taken to following Nanda like a little duckling all over the palace, breaking into sobs if he dared set even a toe outside the palace without her.

Whenever she saw them together, Revati would complain, “Don’t encourage her tantrums! If she doesn’t let you go, I’m going to send her back to Gokula with you, and you can have fun raising a daughter,” She would laugh, “At this age, no less!” She would add after a suggestive pause.

“And you’re what, a millennium old? Fancy having you pull the age card!” Nanda would chime back while hoisting the child up on his shoulders after feeding her nearabout a pitcher of butter.

They both knew of the emotional dagger that threatened to pierce through their heart at any time.

Revati did not seem to care.

Even when Revati had come up to them to introduce herself on the first day, she had been extra kind to Yashoda. “I’m on your side,” she had whispered, as she had embraced Yashoda.

Of course, they had been talking about choosing the better south-facing room at that time, but in the heart of his heart, Nanda had recognized her anger.

He had conceded to himself that Revati’s constant quips were the least that he deserved for making that choice all those years ago. It was only fair that before he could face Krishna again, he would have to navigate this river of fire, in the form of Revati who seemed to channel the opinion of most of the women in the palace.

---

Out of Krishna’s wives, even though Jambavati and Satyabhama had warmed up to Yashoda considerably, Rukmini never seemed comfortable around her. Then again, she seemed comfortable around no one.

She came out of her room only to fulfil her part in the yajna as Krishna’s royal consort, after which she promptly retreated to her quarters. Not even the esteemed guests, or the various programmes hosted in their honour could stop her from disappearing. Yashoda would quietly notice how Krishna’s face would fall every time she refused his pleas to stay beside him any longer than absolutely necessary. Her heart ached as she saw Krishna turn from each interaction with a bright smile and a joke on his lips when just a moment before he had been just one flimsy step away from completely breaking down in middle of the yajna ground.

After several days of observing her, Yashoda finally asked one day, “Does she not like participating in such festivals?”

“She has been like that ever since the child was lost! She hardly even talks to us,” answered Satyabhama, “And who could blame her? It has been almost a year now, and I still cannot stop my tears when I see that empty crib. To think he wasn’t even my own child!”

Jambavati sighed, “Now she seems like a mere husk of the person she was. I miss that happy twinkle in her eye! I only wish she would let us into that tower of despair she has imprisoned herself in!”

Satyabhama shook her head, “Even Krishna only pretends to be happy in front of others. He was devastated! He blames himself for what happened. I’ve seen him stare out into the ocean for hours with his fists clenched. He fights with us when we suggest otherwise. I do not understand how a man who shows such unbounded compassion for those around him can be so unkind to himself! He forgave my father who accused him of being a greedy thief, and yet he fails to forgive himself!”

Jambavati nodded, “Krishna and Rukmini used to be the happiest people we knew, and look at them now! It kills us to see them in such pain!”

Yashoda quietly brushed away a tear. “Why did the princess not return to her father’s place for the birth of the child?” She asked.

“Krishna feared that her brother might imprison her there to exact revenge on him!” said Jambavati.

“That poor child!” Yashoda exclaimed, “Did her mother also not come?”

Satyabhama answered, “Her mother, the blessed queen Sudhimati, passed away in her childhood only. Rukmini always says how much she misses her! Mother Rohini tries her best, but who can replace your own mother, right?”

“My mother also left us, many moons back. Still, not a day goes by when I don’t miss her! My father already cannot get enough of your son. I wish she too could have met him!” Jambavati smiled sadly.

Yashoda sighed, “No wonder she’s going through such a hard time! Such events are difficult enough when you’re surrounded by family, but to be living in a foreign land, stripped of all that is familiar, I cannot even imagine how tough it must be!”

Her concerns for her son however she left unsaid, unsure of how it might be perceived. He had his own mother to worry about him now after all.

---

Krishna had seen his foster parents shuffle around the palace on the very first day of the yajna. In fact, every following day of the yajna he had seen Yashoda sitting on the balcony quietly knitting a small sweater, and Nanda sitting on a lower pedestal behind Vasudeva, humming along with the sacred hymns. One did not become the most powerful politician on earth by missing these kinds of things.

Why had he not talked to them then?

It was the same question that Krishna asked himself every night as he drifted into an exhausted sleep.

Fear?

Guilt?

Anger?

Even Krishna could not ascertain. All he knew was that every time he tried to walk up to them, his throat closed up with emotion, his eyes threatened to water, and then he simply walked away.

Maybe it was time?

Maybe, he had put too much time in between himself and his parents, and now they were simply too far away.

Chapter 5: Crashing Waves and a Necklace of Pearls

All the beaches of Dwarika, as Yashoda had found, just like the one she had seen first, were laden with rocks. The ocean threw itself relentlessly against the unwavering rocks, almost as if it wanted to swallow this island whole. Still, she went down to sit there whenever the din of the palace became too overwhelming.

Even though at the beginning she had been somewhat afraid, witnessing the apparent hostility of the sea god, the constant susurration of the ocean rising and falling had proved to be strangely comforting after all. With each passing day, Yashoda found herself spending more and more time sitting on the beach, quietly observing the citizens go about their day.

Even though she was technically deemed a queen now, Yashoda found greater comfort among the common people who frequented the beaches. She would watch, fascinated, as the fishermen would tug along their long boats over the rocks, into the sea, and disappear for the day. “Godspeed!” She would call out to the nearest men as they would wave out to her on their way out. Yashoda would sit on the rocks watching, as their boats swam up and down as the turbulent sea carried them away.

Once the boats were gone, Yashoda would take a stroll along the beach, casually surfing the little shops nestled on one end of the paved walkway.

On one such morning, she spotted a young woman sitting on the street under a makeshift canopy with varied jewellery pieces made of colourful pearls laid out before her. A long seven-stranded necklace made of ivory pearls lying among her merchandise caught Yashoda’s eye. She perched down beside the woman. Picking up the necklace, she held it against her neck, checking her reflection in a small mirror that the woman had erected in one corner of her little shop.

“It suits you greatly, Madam!” The girl smiled encouragingly.

Yashoda nodded, “Say would you exchange that for this one?” She said as she unhooked and held out her gold necklace.

The girl took the necklace to inspect, but dropped it on the floor of the shop the next moment as if it were red hot, “I cannot take this Madam, it’s real gold!”

“So what?” Yashoda laughed slightly, “Where I am from, your pearls are worth much more than that!”

“Might be true, but Madam, if I take this home, they’ll call me a thief! They gave Lord Krishna a chance to explain himself, I might not be that lucky!”

Yashoda shook her head, cursing herself internally for not having considered the possibility. She said in a small voice, “Could you then put this aside for me, please? I don’t have any money on me now, but I promise I’ll come and get this at your quoted price. I come here often, Niryama the sailor knows me!”

“I’ll keep it till nightfall. Pay and get it if you like.” The girl replied in a cautious tone.

Yashoda shook her head as she continued on her stroll, promising herself to never forget her purse again.

---

As the morning rolled into the afternoon, Yashoda walked lazily along the seashore, cradling her long gold necklace that gleamed against the golden sun dawdling across the sky, a warm amber hue caressing her glistening dark skin. The beach was empty for as far as the eye could see.

Yashoda wondered if the shore was cleared out on account of the arrival of the young princess, who was now happily skipping away in front of her, kicking up a storm of dust over the sharp rocks with every footstep.

“Oi,” She called out to the young princess, “Tell me, Dwarika is better or Mathura?”

Subhadra smiled as she turned back, “It’s peaceful here. Truth be told, I do not miss Mathura.” Her smile turned downcast, “Here, I don’t wake up or go to bed with anxiety. Prayers for the safety of my brothers do not keep me up at night. Here, I can go to bed without a knife under my pillow. Oh God,” She drew in a sharp breath, “Let me never go through such a war again! Here, everybody knows someone who lost something. I would die if I ever lose anyone like that.”

“I apologize, my dear,” Yashoda looked down, “I did not realize you carried such weight in your heart. I would never have mentioned this otherwise!”

“There’s no need for that.” Subhadra shook her head, “How were you supposed to know? I try not to let it be obvious. Rama and Krishna both worry if I am not happy. It’s hard maintaining the cheer around here.” A bright smile returned to her face, “Never mind me! How come you have never gone swimming in the ocean with the other ladies? Are you afraid?”

Yashoda grinned, “A little. The waves do seem to get pretty big at times-” She stopped. A tall, dark man, wearing pristine, lemon-yellow garments, was approaching them. He was decked heavily in gold, peacock feathers fluttering slightly in the wind, tethered to strands of his silky black locks. The man walked up to Yashoda and stopped right in front of her. She could feel Subhadra’s gaze darting to-and-fro between their faces.

Turning to Subhadra he smiled warmly, “I just saw Father and Rama going over a list of princes. Go see if they fixed your marriage already!”

“If you want privacy, just say that,” Subhadra made a face, “All you doing right now is ensuring that I put sand in your food. Again!” She taunted.

“Go!” He shooed her, chuckling.

As Subhadra’s silhouette vanished towards the palace, Yashoda looked at Krishna more intently. The sun’s rays had taken on a reddish hue that made the jewels adorning his dark body gleam desperately. He slowly bent down to touch her feet.

“I must apologize,” He whispered, his expression now grim, “I should have come sooner.”

Yashoda drew a deep breath. She could feel her throat closing with emotions that threatened to burst out right that second. She touched his shoulder, and then she let her fingers trace along a long-running scar that stretched down to his abdomen. “This wasn’t here before,” She managed to say, looking up at his face, “The last time that I saw you, you were exactly as tall as me, now look at you!”

“It has been there a long time,” Krishna smiled, following her palms with his eyes, a hint of sadness still lacing his voice.

“You grew up.” She whispered.

“You, somehow, did not grow old!” Said Krishna, causing them both to break into laughter. The apprehension on both sides seemed less apparent, although it remained, cowering behind their smiles.

“Maybe I was too hasty in saying that you grew up,” She joked back.

With the tension somewhat broken, she took his arm as he led her along the beach to a large rock standing in the middle of the beach. Reaching in front of it, Krishna knelt before her. Yashoda stared at him incredulously, “You want me to climb that?”

“It’s a good vantage point. That’s where I go to sit when I crave a good sunset!” Krishna smiled.

“I am getting old, you know,” she said as she clambered over the rock with some difficulty, “No! Keep your charm to yourself, I really am!”

Krishna, who had propped down beside her, put his arms around her neck. Almost like a child, he whispered, “No, you’re not!”

Yashoda’s face fell as her smile disappeared behind a thick film of tears forming in her eyes. Removing his hands from around her, she said, “Seventeen years, Kanha! For seventeen years you left me alone. Not even a single letter! All that doesn’t go away with a cute face and a hug.”

“I had no choice,” Krishna sighed.

“Why not? Your brother managed!” She said angrily. Now that the emotions from the first encounter had worn off, Yashoda felt a renewed wave of anger and hurt wash over her. Too many painful memories from the past couple of decades seemed to flood her all at once.

“You left, Kanha, casting not a single glance backwards! You killed Kamsa, then you moved on. We were the ones you left behind! I can even understand you not writing to us, but what about your friends? Girlfriends? You just left them, and never came back! Your friends cried their hearts out for weeks, and you never even wrote to them!”

“I couldn’t,” Krishna whispered.

“Why not, Krishna?” Yashoda pressed. Her anger wouldn’t let her stop, even though her eyes recognized the hurt in Krishna’s.

“Because, maiya, it would’ve been as good as walking into my enemies’ lairs and marking off Vrindavana in bright red ink! I was their target! I couldn’t put you, or baba, or anyone else in harm’s way just because I missed you!” Krishna drew a sharp breath, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have raised my voice.” He whispered.

Yashoda gently touched his face, her anger dissipating at the sight of Krishna’s quivering lips, “I’m sorry too, I do understand all that. You should’ve trusted that we’d have taken care of ourselves though! You did not have to carry that burden all by yourself!”

Krishna and Yashoda sat quietly staring at the blank horizon, their breaths rising and falling with the waves of the ocean.

After a long time, Krishna broke the silence, “We missed the sunset.” Yashoda looked up at the horizon. The sun had long set, and now only a pale salmon glow remained to tell the tale.

“We’ll have another.” She spoke.

“No, the rest of the week is going to be stormy, and then you go back.” Krishna’s face was inscrutable.

“Do you want me to stay longer?”

Krishna stared at her for a long time. “No,” he said eventually, “I hope you understand.”

Yashoda didn’t say anything. Instead, she laid her head on his shoulder, caressing his arm gently as they both quietly stared into the darkening horizon.

Eventually, the stars came out. The waves glowed in the moonlight as they crashed unto the rocks. Still unrelenting.

Yashoda sighed, “I hope you don’t think that I only thought of those who were left behind. I also thought about you. We at least had one another, but you, and Rama...you were all alone. Then the war started. I would stay awake all night in case you called unto us. I remember the day when Rama came again, this time asking us to come to Dwarika,” She smiled fondly, “Your baba then said that we had a duty to the land of Mathura. Someone had to stay back, and we chose us,” She ran her fingers through his long, curly hair, untangling them out of habit, “Your baba had called for a vote, I still remembered how every single one of your friends voted to stay. Even though they all had a chance to go with you, to you, they all stayed. They said they wanted to protect your childhood knowing that you couldn’t.”

“I am forever indebted to them, maiya, you know that I am!” Krishna said, shaking his head.

“I am not trying to convince you to return Krishna. You belong here!”

Krishna laughed derisively, leaving Yashoda to stare at his face blankly.

After a moment, he piped up, “Is it bad that when you said I belonged here, I could immediately think of ten different reasons why I definitely do not?” He shook his head, “Only today, I spent three hours debating what colour we should paint the walls of the new Sudharma sabha! Seventeen years of non-stop battles, building a new kingdom from scratch, and I get to decide what colour we paint the freaking walls?!”

Yashoda stared at her son. She had suspected this for a long time. Here it was, the crack beneath the plaster!

Krishna sat with his head held in his hands, his breathing heavy with emotion, “My wife will not speak to me because she thinks I abandoned the search for my missing son. When I ask the cabinet, they tell me that my son is not in their freaking budget! I give half my life to them, and this is the thanks?!” On Krishna’s face, there was a manic smirk, “I can’t go back, and I can’t stay here, so tell me, maiya, then what the hell do I do?”

Before her eyes, Yashoda saw a sobbing little boy, who would come running into her arms, away from the groups of older boys teasing him, rather than the distressed young man who sat pressing his temple nursing an obvious headache. Alas, this time she could not just scare off everyone who had upset her son with a stick in her hand and a scream on her lips. Yashoda composed herself. She had always been good in crises.

Yashoda cupped Krishna’s palms in hers, “Then, you get the hell out of here. No-” She stopped Krishna as he opened his mouth to protest, “Not forever, but you need a break. You’re no help to anyone in this state. So, here’s what you’re going to do: you will plan a trip out of here, and you will take your wife with you. When you’re back, you will march into that parliament and make them hear you. If they don’t like you, then you will make them fear you.” She caressed his face illuminated slightly in the starlight, “And, when you are done with all that, for the Gods’ sake, you will find a friend!”

Yashoda jumped down from the rock. She looked up at her son, “I am extending my visit whether you like it or not, and you will now walk me to that little shop over there and buy me the necklace I want.”

Krishna sat dumbfounded for a second as he watched his mother walk away determinedly, before exhaling sharply and scampering down behind her.

Chapter 6: A Severed Head and Puny Chains

After that long-put-off conversation on the beach, Yashoda had practically dragged Krishna by his arm to the guest quarters. Relieving him of all the royal paraphernalia, she had washed his face with cool water and massaged oil into his scalp. She had then fed him simple rotis ladled with the butter she had churned out herself earlier in the day. Once the moon had travelled halfway through the sky, messengers had come bearing summons from Vasudeva and from Balarama, inviting Krishna to dinner. Yashoda had watched with secret elation as Krishna had turned them all down in favour of her makeshift arrangements. They had then sat in the balcony overlooking the sparkling ocean, quietly watching the waves ebb and rise.

Eventually, Krishna had fallen asleep on her bed. Yashoda had reclined on the couch nearby, staring at his sleeping form. She could not fall asleep as Krishna’s previous laments swirled in her mind. While she didn’t dare to sit at his head on the bed itself, lest she woke him from a much-needed bout of rest, she did notice how exhausted he looked even in slumber, his eyeballs racing around underneath his closed eyelids. As he tossed and turned in darkness, Yashoda carefully adjusted the throw blanket around him, occasionally running her fingers through his dishevelled curls. That seemed to calm him somewhat.

Near midnight, Krishna woke up with a jolt. Yashoda, who had dozed off on the couch, sat up straight. Krishna had woken up sweaty, clearly from a nightmare. She settled beside him, gently caressing his hair while clasping his palms tightly in hers. “What’s the time?” He asked groggily, “I will return to my chambers. I’ve bothered you enough.”

Yashoda sighed, noting the finality of his tone. Once Krishna made up his mind, no one could convince him otherwise. She watched as he gathered his sword and uttariya and marched out of the room. She sighed. How different was this Krishna from the young boy that had been snatched so cruelly from her!

Her Krishna had never bothered with propriety or even basic social rules. He had been his own master, the one who used to light up every room that he walked into! This Krishna, she found, was more cautious, more compliant, a man grieving and broken.

---

Krishna walked aimlessly through the palace corridors, careful not to wake up the sleeping guards at first. Then, he turned back in disdain. The guards that were in charge of protecting his family at night, were themselves asleep. Was it not his lax attitude towards his servants was the sole reason that demon Shambara had been able to enter his private chambers and take his firstborn? Snatching the baby right from the arms of his exhausted wife, who had lain asleep, completely defenceless that fateful afternoon! Krishna felt a rare surge of anger rise through his body. He struck his sheathed sword loudly against a sizable drum that lay at the far end of the corridor. Immediately, all guards jolted awake from their slumber and assumed their positions clumsily.

“What do I pay you fools for?” He said, in a low, but carrying voice that reverberated through the long hall. It was a voice that sent chills down the spine of all those who stood listening with bowed heads, “If I ever catch any one of you sleeping while on duty, ever again, I swear on everything that’s precious to me, you will not live to see the next sunrise.” He finished, turning to look each of the guards in the eye.

As his echoing words drew to a close, a quiet jingle reached his ears. He turned to see Rukmini standing silently under the doorway of her chamber. Her eyes were red and swollen, but she was not crying. Lowering her gaze after a moment, she disappeared into the dark room just as she had appeared.

Krishna mentally cursed himself for waking her up alongside the guards. Turning to glare at the guards one last time, he hurried into Rukmini’s chambers.

“I apologize, Vaidarbhi! I did not mean to wake you up.” Krishna pleaded into the darkness, while his eyes adjusted, “Will someone please light a lamp,” He called out, irritated. A couple of maidservants scurried in to light the various lamps strewn around the room.

As light poured into the room, Krishna found Rukmini seated in silence, near the empty crib. Krishna felt like someone had torn his heart out and stomped on it. Rukmini’s face was expressionless, but as she looked up slowly to look at her husband, her doe-like eyes betrayed her grief-stricken anger.

Krishna sat down on the floor, cautiously putting an arm around Rukmini. To his surprise, unlike several other times, she did not protest. Krishna whispered, “I tried my best, Vaidarbhi. The parliament refused to release any more funds for the search.” Krishna could feel his wife’s shoulder tense up. He continued quietly, “But I have every one of my personal spies looking for that demon Shambara. Believe me, he will not escape once I find him! I will avenge our Pradyumna.” Rukmini shirked off his hand as she went to stand by the balcony.

Krishna sighed. Rukmini was his chief wife, but she was also the youngest. This was part of the reason why Krishna had always felt a greater sense of responsibility towards her. Jambavati and Satyabhama both had full lives independent of him, and had huge, happy families surrounding them. It was only Rukmini who had left behind everything that she knew and loved without a single thought, trusting nothing but hearsay. He was desperate to live up to that.

Krishna had always harboured a pang of guilt for snatching her away from her father and brothers. The thought that he had let her down once again, and made her lose another precious piece of her heart, haunted his nightmares. He understood her anger but also longed to be understood. Does she not understand his grief? He too has lost his one and only child!

He laid his head upon her shoulder as he embraced her, enclosing her palms in his. She did not resist. The moon shined cruelly down upon them, as the uncaring ocean kept thrashing in the backdrop of the golden city that turned sans mercy.

---

At dawn, as Krishna walked along the beach to his usual spot to perform his morning worship, an informer stopped him in his tracks, sweaty from a long run. Krishna sighed in annoyance but signalled at him to speak nevertheless.

“My Lord,” panted the informant, “The demon Shambara has been slain!”

Krishna could not hide his surprise as he whipped around to face the messenger, “What?!” He exclaimed, “By whom?”

“A young boy, barely a teen! He lives with an older lady by the beach on the mainland up north.”

“How did a young boy manage to kill such a valiant demon? Are you sure he killed the actual Shambara and is not trying to trick us for a reward?”

“No sir! He has situated himself in front of the parliament from the second prahara of the night, holding the severed head of Shambara! He says he will leave only after he is allowed to submit the demon’s head at the feet of her grace the princess Vaidarbhi! Several guards have tried to remove him, but he seems to be able to hold his own in battle against all of them! They say his mother is Mayavati, the elusive witch, and she helped him kill the demon!”

“Why was I not informed of this at night itself?” Krishna asked, his eyebrows now contorted in a mixture of curiosity and irritation, “How is it that a teenager is able to locate and kill a demon faster than seven hundred highly-trained royal informants?” Krishna shook his head even as he started to walk back towards the city, barking orders at the attendants in his path, “Inform Rama to come down to the parliament house at once and call for Narada. I hope you will find him at least before the pralaya swallows us all!” He stopped abruptly in his tracks, his voice softening, “And make sure the devi Vaidarbhi is not disturbed by this news. I shall let her know myself when the time is right.”

---

Reaching the parliament building Krishna found the rest of the members standing around in the street. As he approached, the crowd parted to make way for him. Before him, Krishna found a dark-skinned young boy who stood blocking the door to the parliament. Krishna stood in place for a second, taking it in. Not many adults in the kingdom could hold their own in front of what looked like the entirety of their royal guards’ contingent, much less a teenager. His plain, torn clothes were bloodstained, and a tall bow hung from his shoulders. In his right hand he held an unsheathed sword and, in his left, a severed, bloodied head. His eyes were bright, and his stance defiant.

For a split second, Krishna saw himself from almost a yuga before, standing square before the tyrant king Kamsa, holding a bloodied elephant tusk upon his shoulders, his right foot upon the neck of a dead royal wrestler.

Krishna’s trance was broken by a familiar hand on his shoulder. He turned to find Balarama standing beside him, holding his famous mace to attention. With a slight indication, Krishna stopped Balarama from advancing. He unsheathed his own sword and spoke directly to the boy standing before them, “I do not wish to fight you, son! If you want peace, then on the count of three we shall both drop our weapons.” The boy nodded cautiously.

The very moment that the boy dropped his sword, a group of guards captured him at Krishna’s covert command. “That is not fair, we had a deal!” The boy screamed, pointing at Krishna’s sword, still secure in his hand, thrashing against his captors.

“Life rarely is,” sighed Krishna and indicated to the guards to carry the boy into the parliament house. Once all members were inside, the door of the parliament was locked, and at Krishna’s indication, the guards released the boy onto the checkered floor of the senate room. Krishna sat down beside Balarama with his unsheathed sword laid on the table before him. The boy stood quietly, understanding his predicament.

“Who are you, and how dare you create this ruckus in the middle of the town square?” Roared Kritavarma. The boy seemed to recoil for a moment, but he did not move from his place.

“I’m nobody. I came to help out the royal family of Dwarika since they seem to be unable to help themselves!” The boy replied, defiance still seasoning his tone.

Balarama leapt from his seat in anger, but Krishna pulled him back.

“Whatever gave you that impression?” Krishna asked with a hint of amusement in his tone.

“A demon defiled the sanctity of your private chambers and insulted both you and the mother Rukmini by taking and murdering your child. Yet, I didn’t find the entire Yadava army marching down our village seeking revenge. I felt like the women of our land deserved better, so I did what had to be done!”

Krishna raised an eyebrow, his jaw hardening. Just the previous day, he had stood in this very room, arguing the same points in vain, and yet this young man had found the courage to go out and just do what needed to be done!

Meanwhile, the entire group of parliamentarians had broken into chaotic conversation, their recommendations ranging from steep prizes to capital punishment.

“QUIET!”

The room fell silent as Balarama’s powerful voice reverberated against the marble walls. “What do you want from us?” He asked the boy.

“As I’ve been saying for the past two praharas, I wish to meet mother Rukmini and present her with the severed head of the demon that took her child from her!” The boy declared.

Krishna took a long breath, to quiet his screaming heart. Then he spoke to the boy directly, a softer tone masking his impatience, “I agree with you that a grave injustice has been carried out against devi Vaidarbhi. I thank you from the bottom of my heart on behalf of my family for avenging our Pradyumna, the light of our lives. However, I must beseech you to consider if this gory display is the best thing to gift a grieving woman who has just lost her one and only child anew today, his passing marked in stone with your appearance.”

The boy lowered his head, seemingly reconsidering his position for the first time. The entire sabha had also fallen silent, with each and every member pondering, maybe for the first time, a humane response to the tragedy.

Suddenly the silence in the room was broken by the clanking of castanets as the rishi Narada sauntered into the parliament hall. Krishna nodded slightly as the junior ministers quickly jumped to their feet, making way for the jovial ascetic. Once seated, Narada spoke, “Hello Krishna! Your attendants were kind enough to pick me up without any prior message, from an acquaintance’s ashram in Prabhasa, and drag my old body down here atop a horse!”

Krishna smirked at the veiled complaint, “Let’s not go there now, devarshi.” He continued pleasantly, “Currently, the matter of most urgency is this extremely confident young man.”

The boy broke into a big smile on cue, right as he was mentioned. Krishna raised an eyebrow at Balarama, who shrugged back in response, “Well, don’t pretend you wouldn’t do the same!” He whispered to his younger brother.

Narada laughed at the brothers’ quiet exchange.

Shaking his head, he turned to address the congregation, “Gentlemen! This young man right here is none other than Manmatha! I have named him thus myself. His parents had both perished at his birth, and the kind lady Mayavati has nurtured and educated him since. Deeply devoted to both Lord Krishna and his consort devi Rukmini, he might have committed a few blunders in his haste to seek revenge on behalf of his idols. This brings me to my primary concern. A divine ordinance has been received by several esteemed rishis, including myself. The demon Shambara must perish at the hands of Pradyumna, the son of Prince Krishna and devi Rukmini. This was the same ordinance that Shambara attempted to defy when he kidnapped the newborn prince. Now, as it stands this ordinance has been proven wrong by young Manmatha.”

Balarama drew a sharp breath, “So, now the credibility of all rishis is compromised!”

Narada nodded seriously.

“So, what now?” Asked Satrajit, as other ministers shifted uncomfortably in their seats. Challenging tradition had never been welcomed in this community or any other. To allow the news of this broken ordinance to travel across kingdoms could spell international disaster. Other ministers and princes also joined Satrajit in requesting a solution from the famed rishi in attendance.

Narada smiled, “Simple. This is a closed chamber; I am an ordained priest. Let the Prince and Princess adopt this lad at this moment, within the confines of this sabha, and let him be known hereafter as the lost Prince Pradyumna that has been returned to his family by divine grace.”

“Are you kidding me?!” Krishna spoke before anyone could react, “I haven’t even had a single day to process the fact that my child is dead, my wife has no clue whatsoever of this whole mess here, and you seriously expect us to just replace our firstborn?!”

Narada spoke calmly, “Think it over, my prince.”

Krishna retreated briefly into his seat as the rishi invoked his favourite nickname for him. Even in Gokula, when he had lived as a simple cowherd, Narada had always addressed him as a prince, much to the confusion of his peers. It had started as a way for Narada to acknowledge the secret of his birth while not making a secret of the soft spot he had always harboured for the young Krishna. Now, while he was ticked off by the rishi’s unconventional solution, Krishna did comprehend its necessity.

Narada implored, “You are smart enough to know why I propose this. Your life is much too important to be tied to simple familial emotions. Shirk off these feeble chains, my prince, and do what is right!”

Narada leaned closer, hovering over Krishna as he continued in a hushed tone, “An entire generation looks to you, my prince. You will succeed at your final mission only with true friends at your side because you and I both know family doesn’t work out always. Look around you, which of these uncles and cousins, your blood relatives, are truly on your side? You know which ones will stab you in the back, and the ones that are circling you like hyenas. Trust me, you do not need young Manmatha as your enemy. He can defeat even Lord Kartikeya in battle, and as it stands now, he will gladly give his life if you so command. All I ask is that you think twice before you reject him!”

Out of the corner of his eyes, Krishna looked at the young boy who still stood holding the severed head of the demon. He was clearly rattled by the abrupt turn of events. Krishna spoke, his voice barely above a whisper, “I shall accept only if devi Rukmini also chooses to accept young Manmatha as her firstborn and the heir to our familial legacy.”

Chapter 7: Welcome to the Family

Despite Krishna’s best efforts to hide the appearance of the slayer of Shambara from Rukmini, by the time he reached her quarters, the queen’s attendants had already informed her of the court proceedings. Upon returning to his chambers after setting the boy up in a guest room, Krishna found his wife sitting on his bed, fuming. “I came to you right away, Vaidarbhi-” Krishna began, but Rukmini cut him off. Krishna was taken aback to see his first wife’s temper. He was used to Satyabhama’s outbursts and Jambavati’s cutting remarks, but he had never seen Rukmini so much as even annoyed at him in all these years of marriage. He slumped down onto the couch, resigned to facing the queen’s years’ worth of pent-up wrath.

Rukmini scorned, “So Devarshi proposed, and you accepted without so much as a single word in protest? What is the use of your strength and valour, if you will dance to the tunes of any random person that walks into your parliament? Is your grandfather not the king of this land? What is the use of that Nandaka sword if it could not even protect the only son of its master?” She cried as she pointed to his cumberband, “Is this why I left behind my family, my friends and my entire life? For you to bring home any random child and make me call it my blood? You should have left me to die by the sacred fire of my marriage to Shishupala, then. It was better than enduring this abject humiliation at the hands of your people!” Krishna desperately shook his head, his own throat heavy with emotion. He hated to see Rukmini so distraught.

Krishna attempted to hold her, but Rukmini swatted his hand away. She breathed heavily, drowning clearly in a deluge of conflicting emotions. The logical part of her brain understood her husband’s predicament, but before her eyes, the empty crib in the centre of her bedroom kept mocking her, while the gossiping words of her attendants burned in her ears.

Krishna whispered to her, as he knelt in front of her blocking the crib from her line of sight, “I’m begging you to once consider the situation sans emotion Rukmini, I truly don’t have a choice! If this news gets out of the palace, the people will revolt. I can fight any enemy that dares attack our kingdom, but I cannot suppress this infighting forever. If there’s a revolt, it will drive a wedge in the Yadava family as well, Dwarika will be left a bloody wasteland, and enemy kingdoms will swallow Mathura whole!”

“Have I kept you prisoner Krishna?” Rukmini retorted, “You go do whatever you want! Make whomever your son, why do you make this farce of asking for my permission? Did you ask me before rushing off to the forest after that cursed gem? Did you ask me before bringing home two wives right on the heel of making me think I’d lost you without so much as a single message? If you did not require my permission then, you do not need it now. I have accepted that I’ll always be alone here, cut off from my father and brothers and everything else that I know and love. You all cannot hurt me more than this!”

Krishna sat with his head lowered. He could not refute her accusations. It was true that he had been rash in all these instances. He had always been grateful for Rukmini’s calmness. In fact, in doing so, he had almost forgotten that she was born a princess, and raised to be a queen. She had perfected the art of hiding her emotions behind an icy demeanour. Krishna regretted having taken her stoic silence as happy acceptance rather than the swirling silent resentment that had exploded at this last betrayal.

“I am sorry,” He whispered, “That it came to the point of you having to spell it out for me. I should have understood your pain a long time back,”

Rukmini stared off into the distance with no indication that she heard him.

Looking at her, Krishna sighed as he held both her palms in his, “Vaidarbhi, I accept my part in the injustice done to you. I am truly sorry that I made you feel like you couldn’t air your grievances freely to me. However, I must beg you to consider Devarshi’s proposal. Do not reject it just out of anger for me. The issue has become bigger than either you or me, and as members of this wretched family, like all our predecessors we must make sacrifices.” Krishna sighed and shook his head, “And as much as we call it a proposal and sugarcoat it, it is in fact an order: a motion passed in parliament. To reject it would be to openly defy the established government. It will give a free pass to our opponents to launch a public offence. Vaidarbhi, whatever you choose, I’ll be at your side, but I will not be able to control the consequences.”

Krishna and Rukmini sat in silence, facing each other as the sun travelled across the horizon, settling over the ocean bed, colouring it crimson. Finally, Rukmini spoke, as the last rays of the sun highlighted her cheeks, glossy from exhaustion, “Despite everything, Krishna, I have vowed to be at your side no matter what. I chose you as my life partner simply by hearing of your wise judgement. If you have accepted this proposal so readily, there must be something special in the boy. Something which convinced you to pull him out from those slums and instate him as a future ruler of the Yadavas! I will accept the Devarshi’s proposal, but on two conditions. First, I must be allowed to meet this boy before any official proceedings, and second, the boy must marry my niece, brother Rukmi’s daughter. I wish to reestablish a channel of communication with my brother.” She turned her face, “I need my family to endure yours.”

Krishna swallowed in apprehension, “Vaidarbhi, that is quite a radical proposal! Your brother was prepared to take your life in order to spite me. Do you not want some time to think this through? You know your wish is my command, but I must urge you to think of your own safety.”

“These are my conditions, swami. Take it or leave it.” Rukmini stormed out of the room, throwing a rattle-toy into the desolate crib that swayed creakily in the wind, leaving Krishna deep in thought.

---

Upon placing Rukmini’s conditions to the parliament Krishna had been surprised at how quickly the sabha had accepted. Only Balarama had objected, going so far as to declare that he would slay Rukmi if he did as much as to lay a foot on the soil of Dwarika. Krishna had barely managed to calm him down at the moment.

However, what none of them had expected was for the young Manmatha to object. The boy spoke clearly, cutting down expertly every logic that the parliamentarians presented in favour of his adoption.

Finally, Krishna had to pull him aside to inquire of what his actual issue with the proposal was. Which orphan would choose to reject the proposal that would catapult him to the top of the royal food chain?! The boy, softening a bit on account of the individual attention from his proposed father, had admitted that he was afraid of losing his caretaker, Mayavati.

Krishna had been surprised anew by how similar they were. Manmatha had whispered to him, “I know how these royals take care of the family in cases such as ours. Tell me, why have you never gone back to your old village? Why do your so-called parents need to make an appointment to see you? You must know how I feel! If I become your son, I’ll never see Maya again!”

Krishna had been taken aback by the boy’s direct words, and the desperation in his eyes. This strange boy had caught the thread of Krishna’s inner battles with such ease. He was willing to give up the chance of ruling an entire country out of the love he had in his heart. Could Krishna have not done the same, those many aeons ago? Krishna made up his mind right then to protect this boy’s interests at all costs, even if it meant clashing with either Rukmini or Balarama. As he walked the boy back to his seat, he had already formulated a plan.

Addressing the parliament with his quintessential smile he had spoken, “My Lords, Manmatha agrees to our proposal if one desire of his is fulfilled. He has formed quite an attachment to the young lady he grew up with,” he laughed indulgently, “And he wishes for her to become his better half, united in matrimony. Lady Mayavati is the perfect blend of wit and dignity and is the perfect choice for the future queen of the Yadavas. Assisted further by princess Rukmavati of Vidarbha and under the careful guidance of devi Rukmini, she will undoubtedly bring great happiness and prosperity to our great kingdom. I hope you will extend to this young family the same love that you have showered upon me and my better halves.”

As he sat down, he glanced above at the balcony, where Rukmini sat with her attendants. As her eyes met his, Krishna attempted to send a silent apology, but Rukmini simply shook her head and looked away. Krishna forced himself to focus on the sabha, vowing to rectify the situation with his wife later. Manmatha, like the rest of the sabha, sat with his mouth agape. Marry the woman who was practically his mother?! A wave of gasps went around the sabha, most members shaking their heads, and some openly mocking Krishna.

Krishna, still smiling brightly, whispered to Narada, “Devarshi, I kept my end of the bargain, I convinced my wife. Now it’s on you to bring it home.”

Narada smiled and nodded. He called upon Mayavati who had stood fidgeting with her dress by the gate that opened into the balcony. He led her to the centre of the podium, and spoke to the crowd, “Gentlemen, this is no ordinary woman that stands before you. She has been blessed by Lord Shiva himself, in a previous birth, to become a companion to Lord Pradyumna, and rule over Dwarika alongside him as his better half. Say, who are we to argue with the almighty? I move that we complete all legal proceedings regarding the young Lord Pradyumna’s adoption immediately, and then organize a great festival for his marriage to the devis Mayavati and Rukmavati! Who’s in agreement?”

Understandably, at the mention of the almighty, most hands in the sabha went up in favour. Satyaki rushed down to the young boy. Lifting Manmatha atop his shoulders, he and his attendants went out to celebrate his integration into the family. Krishna stole a glance at the balcony in the middle of the chaos, but Rukmini, along with her posse, had already left.

---

In accordance with Rukmini’s ask, Krishna escorted Manmatha to the royal garden himself in order for him to meet her. Mayavati followed them hesitantly from a little distance behind.

Krishna had wrapped his arms around the boy. Within a short span, Krishna had grown somewhat fond of him. Not only was he a highly skilled warrior, but he was also polite and intelligent. Even Balarama seemed to be charmed by his manners by the end of it.

At the far end of the garden, Rukmini sat atop a grand throne. Krishna was mildly surprised to see her poise. Rukmini had adorned herself with the most luxurious of the silks that she owned. Her petite frame seemed to be dripping with gold and pearls, and on her chest, sitting proudly, Krishna spotted his famous kaustubha. On her face, she wore a proud smile that was unlike anything Krishna had ever seen. On either side of her sat Satyabhama and Jambavati, squirming in their seats. When their eyes met, both of them shot apologetic looks at Krishna. At her feet, sat the coy Rukmavati, who had been summoned to Dwarika already. She immediately turned and hid her face once she saw Manmatha approaching. Behind Rukmini stood Subhadra, looking worried.

Looking upwards, on the balconies, Krishna spotted Rohini looking down curiously, with Yashoda lurking further away. Vasudeva’s other wives had also flocked along with the old Queen Padmavati, King Ugrasena’s wife, who had made a rare appearance to try and make acquaintance with her newfound great-grandson. Krishna and Balarama’s other brothers and cousins had also come down to watch the spectacle.

Manmatha walked up close to her and bowed, offering his respects to Rukmini and the other queens. Subhadra quietly came down and led Mayavati to the dais. Rukmini smirked briefly at them but quickly turned to face the young man.

“I heard you had a gift for me.” She spoke coolly, looking into his eyes. Manmatha sputtered, having been caught off guard. Rukmini continued smiling, but her eyes had hardened, “Something that you were very eager to offer to me. I would like to see that.” Krishna tried to intervene, but Rukmini held up a hand to stop him.

“I’m sorry, devi, I was imprudent. I should not have created a scene. I promise this will never happen again!” He apologized with his head bowed.

“Let him go, Rukmini, he’s a child. He made a mistake, and he apologises.” Krishna spoke, “I’ll apologise on his behalf if you so command, devi!”

Rukmini’s eyes were still stone-cold, almost drilling a hole into the boy’s head, “I think my command was pretty clear, swami.” She spoke. Her eyes seemed to play a game with Krishna. You’re not the only one who can be tough, they seemed to say.

Krishna sighed and sent off an attendant, as everyone stood awkwardly trying to avoid Rukmini’s gaze.

Once they brought the severed head, soaked in a vat of oil, Rukmini only glanced at it for a second before turning her gaze back to Manmatha. “Why have we put it in this container, instead of displaying it in the city square?” She asked impatiently.

Manmatha nervously looked down at his feet.

Krishna came forward, “Out of common decency, devi. Shambara might be a demon; he might have hurt us beyond repair, but he also had a family, and we would like to return his mortal remains without further disrespect.”

Mayavati who had been standing quite fearfully to the side ran up to Rukmini, and fell at her feet, scaring Rukmavati, who had already heard the many unkind rumours surrounding this mysterious lady, causing her to jump to her feet.

Mayavati looked up at Rukmini, “Please, mother, he only meant to do well. He never intended to hurt you, please do not punish him for his childish mistakes! He never meant any disrespect! He adores you and looks up to you like a mother. He fell in love with you the very day when he saw you playing with some children at a charity event. I know he will never replace your son, but he has always loved you from afar like a mother. When he heard of the terrible tragedy, he was determined to kill the demon with his bare hands! And if you’re upset because of me, please do not be. If you command, I will go away forever, and your princess will remain his sole queen. I have never wished to marry him or be a queen, I’ll be satisfied by his happiness alone.”

Rukmini felt a pang in her heart at this woman’s words. She seemed to break out of a trance as she looked at the boy properly for the first time. She could not believe the sight before her eyes. The boy who could apparently defeat even the god of war in battle seemed to be trembling like a leaf before her. How much he must look up to her, that her mere indifference caused him this much pain! Rukmini could not believe herself. As she stared at the vat of oil, the long-dead Shambara’s round, red eyes seemed to mock her. He didn’t only succeed in snatching her child from her, he had also taken her mercy.

Rukmini couldn’t bear to look at the head any longer, which exacerbated her reflection that stared back at her off the glass of the container and seemed to laugh merrily at what she had become. She turned and rushed towards her chambers.

Krishna ran behind her. As they reached a secluded corner of the palace, Rukmini finally broke down in his arms, sobbing into his embrace. She kept apologizing to him and the young boy in a feverish rush, as Krishna tried to console her. On Krishna’s signal, the servants and other family members dispersed into the other corners of the palace to give them privacy.

Eventually, Rukmini felt her eyes burn and droop as she held on to Krishna’s arms with all her might, exhausted from the ordeals of the past year and a half.

---

When she woke, Rukmini found herself lying in her own bed. As she turned to her side with some effort, she found Krishna reclining beside her, wide awake, his eyes fixed upon her face.

“What time is it?” She asked, her face red from a combination of exhaustion and embarrassment.

“Time enough for you to let yourself rest a bit,” Krishna smiled, gently caressing her open hair, “I won’t be here to catch you every time you pass out, devi!” He sat up, much to her dismay. He smiled again, as she tried to pull him back. She clung to his arms as though she was afraid that he too might disappear.

Enclosing her palms in his, Krishna whispered, “Manmatha and his two companions have been waiting for you to wake up. Several attendants sent by the different elders along with Bhama and Jambavati are also lining up to receive some for news of you. Let me inform them that you’ve woken up, and then we can be here together for as long as you want.”

At merely the thought of the family elders, Rukmini had sat up, fixing her uttariya. “Can you summon the boy to see me once?” She asked meekly, “I have been unfair to him. I’d like to apologize.”

Krishna himself led the boy inside, an arm wrapped around him. He still looked shaken up from the events of the day. Rukmini held his hands and pulled him close, indicating to Krishna to give them some space, “I must apologize for what I did, Manmatha. Can I call you Manmatha? I am not yet ready to give up my Pradyumna.” She said in a shaky voice as she felt her eyes well up again.

Manmatha shook his head vigorously, “You may call me whatever, your grace. I never intended to take the place of Prince Pradyumna! I understand my position.”

“No, you don’t,” Rukmini smiled sadly, “You are the single most important person in this kingdom now, as the future heir to our family.” She ran a hand through his smooth, curly hair, “I take it that you’re not actually in love with your mother?”

Manmatha shook his head, smiling briefly to consider the absurd situation he had found himself in the matter of a day. Rukmini nodded, “Rukmavati is a good girl. Be nice to her.” Rukmini sighed. “However, be careful where her father is concerned. He once tried to kill me and Krishna both.” She hesitatingly added.

“Then, your grace, why did you ask me to get married to her?” Manmatha looked at her.

“Because you need to keep your enemies closer. The very first rule of politics. Before my marriage, I had heard some rumours that Jarasandha, Rukmi’s overlord, was planning something big. He is also a sworn enemy of your father.” Rukmini laughed at herself, “Look at me, adapting so easily to something I loathed until mere hours ago!”

She sighed, “Whatever he is planning has the potential of harming the prince greatly. By reinitiating contact with my brother, I might be able to sniff out some details. Nevertheless, you may focus simply on keeping his daughter happy. Do not let our animosity poison your lives as well.”

Manmatha couldn’t stop himself from asking a question that was burning in his mind from the very moment he had been led into the parliament, “Devi, can’t we trust anyone in this palace?”

Rukmini thought for a while, “Balarama is on our side, you can trust him wholeheartedly. Same for his family. Your other mothers, and grandparents. Akroora. Satyaki, maybe? Apart from that, be careful! Talk less and watch more. You need to be your father’s eyes and ears now.” Rukmini smiled a genuine smile after a long time, “Welcome to the family!” She frowned, “Do not make me regret this.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Rukmini caught a glimpse of her husband leaning against the doorframe, facing away from them. “You can stop pretending that you’re not listening, Krishna.” She called out, as Krishna immediately turned around with a sheepish grin. Rukmini spoke, “You will never put me in this position again.” She cautioned him, as Krishna shook his head in approval.

Rukmini found her heart swaying vigorously between cautious optimism and overwhelming longing as she saw the young man laughing nervously as his newfound father awkwardly patted his shoulder.

Chapter 8: Rohini and her Moon

Once the official adoption procedures were completed, announcements were made on every street of the city of Dwarika, detailing how Pradyumna, prince Krishna’s firstborn, and the heir to the throne had returned home, having been turned magically into an adolescent. Every Monday after that, Manmatha was expected to appear before their praja along with Krishna and Rukmini for their weekly charity commitments. Even though neither of them said anything to his face, Manmatha could feel the hesitation in Krishna and Rukmini in his bones.

Looking at them, he would remember Mayavati’s words, on the first day that they had been left alone in their new palace after their ‘marriage’.

“People don’t stop grieving just because the government told them to.” She had told him.

Occasionally, he tried to apologise to them for their troubles. Every time he was met with a cold, “Just keep your chin up, and keep smiling!” He had been astonished to find exactly how much the members of the royal family play-acted during these outings. He found their donations were genuine, but they would be much happier if the money was distributed without the farce of the meet and greets, but knew that this was the only way to keep things just somewhat fair.

The only time he truly felt at ease in his new life was when he was on the training grounds. The Yadava warriors had accepted him without a second thought. He was exhilarated when they challenged him to duels and afterwards, marvelled at his natural talent. The only people who could defeat him in any duel were Krishna, and occasionally Balarama. He did not mind losing to either one, since both of them laughed and joked with him the entire time while teaching him better techniques.

He felt especially proud when Balarama would ruffle his hair after a wrestling match, or that time when Krishna had excitedly held out his bruised arm to Satyaki exclaiming, “Look, the kid is actually making me work for it!” Manmatha practically lived to see that undiluted joy of having met one’s match light up Krishna’s eyes.

His interactions with Rukmini were very limited. She was never unpleasant but also did not show him any more affection than she had the first time. Even though her aloofness bothered Manmatha at times, he was grateful to not be on the receiving end of her wrath again. Sometimes, she would summon him to her chambers, often for minor chores. However, he was always eager to fulfil her wishes, often drawing joking quips from Mayavati. Nevertheless, the entire palace knew by now that even though Rukmini’s demands of the new prince were minor, she had developed a rare trust in him, something she had in no one else.

---

After the whole fiasco with Manmatha, Rukmini had thrown herself into work, trying desperately to avoid the deathly emptiness that threatened to consume her every time she was alone.

Her newfound enthusiasm however had caused some upheavals in the royal household. Since Rukmini had picked up most of the daily chores, Rohini had found herself with some unprecedented free time.

Rohini had been the head of Vasudeva’s household as a young woman starting her married life even before he had married Devaki, and once he did, her entire life had turned upside down as she had found herself hiding away in Nanda-raja’s backyard.

Out of the guilt of being dependent on the mukhiya, she had made it a habit to complete a majority of the housework before Yashoda could get to them, drawing incessant protests from the couple. Once Kamsa had been killed, she had returned to Mathura but found it quite impossible to get rid of her old habits. While Devaki and Vasudeva recovered from their inhumane ordeal over the past quarter of the century, she had found herself tending to both Krishna and Balarama, all the while as a war had waged on outside her home. All the while, having to single-handedly raise her little daughter.

Once Revati had arrived, they had shared the responsibility of the house. However, after Revati gave birth to her daughter Shashirekha, she had slowly extracted herself from the joint household, and had moved into a separate house in a different part of the city, away from the scrutiny of the royal palace. After her marriage to Krishna, Rukmini had also tried to pick up some of the responsibility. At that time, Rohini had nearly lost her composure when the young Rukmini had come asking if she could help. When Krishna had then come to argue on her behalf, Rohini had laughed him out of the women’s quarters as well, “You brought home a child, Kanha! Take her on some nice vacations now. We’ll talk about work in a decade!”

Now when Rohini looked at her Kanha’s chief consort, she no longer saw the naïve young girl who had left her entire life behind to be the bride of a man she hero-worshipped. In the past few years, she had seen ups and downs that exceeded what many people experience in an entire life. Now, her eyes were always kind, but tired, and she had developed a personality that suited a future queen more than that lovelorn teenager. Once Rukmini had taken up the caring duties for Devaki as well, Rohini had found herself free from the grind of her daily life, for the first time after her marriage, unsure of to what to do with herself.

She had tried to visit Balarama’s a couple of times, but every time she entered a room, the flurry of servants hiding the half-empty glasses of liquor, and her son staring back at her with a glazed look, clearly inebriated, had put her off more and more. Even playing with her granddaughter did not bring her as much joy anymore.

Finally, she had gone and plopped down on Yashoda’s bed. Yashoda had only smiled as she continued churning butter by the window overlooking the ocean. Rohini had sighed as she had shaken her head, “Mother Yashoda, when will you learn to relax? You’re staying in a city made of gold, seeing your precious Kanha three times a day, and yet you do not stop working!”

“I don’t want to become like you, didi! Come to gossip in the middle of the day?” Yashoda laughed. The long years of working side by side had nurtured an easy camaraderie between the two, where Yashoda could laugh and quip at the senior royal three times her stature and never get in trouble.

“Seriously though, you have become much closer to our daughters-in-law than any of us who actually live here!” Rohini complained with a smile.

Yashoda laughed, “Well, duh! Since I don’t live here, all of your bahus think they are yelling into a void when they complain to me!”

Rohini went and sat beside her friend. Holding her face up by her chin she whispered, “So won’t you tell me what they say? Does our friendship mean nothing to you, Yashode?”

Yashoda retorted in the same flirty tone, “What to say, I am very corrupt, didi! I need bribes for each bean that is spilt.”

“So, what would you take?” Rohini twirled her heavy-set, necklace of pearls in her fingers with a twinkle in her eye, “Would this suffice, or shall I have to empty the royal coffers?”

“What would I do with pearls, didi? My son buys me plenty. He will dry out the ocean and submit every last pearl at my feet if I so command. If you want me to talk, you must really pay up!” Yashoda winked.

“Ooh, so what is costlier than the entire earth’s worth of pearls to you Yashode?” Rohini smirked back.

Yashoda smiled mysteriously, “Just a week,” relishing Rohini’s rising curiosity, she finished, “A week of your presence in Vrindavan. Each secret that I tell will cost you a week more!”

Rohini chuckled, “Could you have invited me in a more roundabout way?!” Internally, she was grateful for Yashoda’s keen observation. Yashoda always did have a penchant for reading minds, just like Krishna!

Yashoda broke Rohini’s chain of thought with her ever-cheerful tone, “By the way, didi, at the rate your daughter tells me secrets, I’ll easily trap you in Vrindavan for a year straight!” Looking at Rohini’s face Yashoda knew she had piqued her interest. With some persuasion, she continued, “Your daughter, yes! Your Bhadra is learning a lot from her youngest sister-in-law!”

Rohini gasped, “Rukmini? Oh my God,” Her eyes brightened with comprehension. Striking her forehead in mock exasperation, she exclaimed, “Who is she in love with? I will die Yashoda if you don’t tell me right this instant!”

Yashoda smiled brightly, relishing the moment, “Some random lad called Arjuna, some brahmans came to the temple and filled her ears with all that nonsense, about how he’s an archer, like her younger brother, tall, dark and sensitive!”

Giggling, Yashoda continued as Rohini looked at her in desperate anticipation, “I am joking, didi, he’s our dear Pritha’s son. He sounds like a nice boy, I was thinking I’ll ask dear Bhadra to write a letter, and I’ll ask princess Rukmini to help her. Given she managed to drag our Kanha down to her house in a matter of days, she clearly must be an expert!”

“You will be the death of me one day, Yashoda! You should be dissuading Bhadra from such thoughts at such a young age, and here you are fuelling the fire!” Rohini remarked.

Yashoda leaned closer, “Didi, you and I, we grew up together. Let us not forget all the nights you spent pining after brother Vasudeva! You danced for fifteen minutes straight when he came home after that battle during that full moon!”

“As if you never pined over your Nanda-raja!” Rohini rebuked her.

Yashoda stood up, dramatically sighing, pretending to be insulted, “Yashoda and pine? Never! All the men, including your Nanda-raja followed me around the whole village. It’s his good fortune that I chose him! Whatever reputation our Kanhaiya has, all that charm! It is his rightful inheritance from his mother, is it not?!”

Rohini’s smile turned sharp all of a sudden, “Then why do you not speak to him anymore?” She always had been blunt, choosing to speak the truth no matter the consequence. Except that one time.

Yashoda turned to face her, embarrassed to have been found out so easily, “You know what he did, didi. Would you have tolerated it?”

“I was aware of the switch too, Yashoda, why do you still laugh and joke with me? I would argue, that being a guest in your household and not telling you, I betrayed you even farther!”

“You were looking out for your family; he gave up on his!” Yashoda whispered, her breath growing heavy. She wished to change the subject, but those decades of partnership with the queen had been enough for her to know that once Rohini broached a subject, for whatever reason, it was impossible to deny her any information.

Rohini chuckled, “Had you never seen that side of Nanda before you married him? Haven’t you seen this behaviour anywhere else Yashoda?”

“What do you mean, didi?” Yashoda asked, even though her heart felt like it had frozen out of a familiar fear.

“You have seen it, Yashoda, and yet you refute it so obstinately. Don’t you remember when your Krishna lied his head off to all the grief-stricken gopis in Vrindavan? How easily, he walked past trampling every single relationship he had- everything sacrificed at the altar of the greater good. Why even talk about Krishna? Let’s talk about his father! He exchanged Devaki’s life for his children, and handed them over to be butchered one by one himself! What did he get out of it? A woman that is so broken that she wishes for death with every living breath! When that Vasava Jarasandha attacked, I begged and begged him to send the boys away, to Hastinapura, to Panchala- just somewhere! He simply said that the boys are gifts from God himself and that God will keep them safe. Sure, God did keep them safe, but my Vasudeva didn’t have to sit with them all night as they writhed in pain from their many wounds, while I was so utterly helpless! He did not have to watch them learn to suppress a growing amount of pain, for the good of the entire kingdom that leaned on their young shoulders! He didn’t have to soothe his terrified daughter who woke up with nightmares every night because her brothers were off to war and she didn’t know how to help!” Rohini wiped a stubborn tear, “You got to keep their childhood, Yashoda, I watched them lose it.”  She laughed sadly, “Krishna, Vasudeva and Nanda, they’re all cut from the same cloth. The kind that will step up, make the hard choice and be the bad guy, alone, so everyone else can sleep without a blemish on their conscience. Sometimes, while protecting everyone else, they forget to extend that shield to us.” Rohini sighed, “All we can do then is remember why we chose our person, and fight to keep that person alive within whatever they eventually become.”

Rohini left, her mood having definitively soured by her own haste in trying to repair her friend’s marriage. She left Yashoda lost in a bitter sea of thought. Sure, she had maintained that Nanda’s folly was unforgivable for seventeen long years, and maybe it still was, and yet Yashoda missed her chosen person so dearly.

She had seen the pangs of guilt that plagued her husband for years now, and looking back there had been signs even when she hadn’t known his secret. The way he had gone so overboard after Krishna’s birth, going almost out of his way to keep himself busy at all hours of the day and most nights. Yashoda cursed herself often for never noticing his uneasiness every time they sat as a family to eat, or the way he made a conscious effort to never be alone with her in a room for a longer than a few minutes, and filling up even those rare moments with pointless small talk.

Maybe now, Krishna’s soothing presence being just around the corner, was the best time to start talking to each other again?

---

In the middle of the night, holding a lone candle Yashoda quietly made her way to Nanda’s room. He was fast asleep on the couch, a manuscript of something still held in his hand, even as the candle before him struggled to stay alight. Unknown to Yashoda a smile had crept onto her lips. She gently patted him on the chest.

Nanda woke up with a jolt and stood upright before realizing his wife’s presence. “You-you’re here?” He asked, almost grinning ear to ear.

Yashoda suddenly felt a wave of guilt wash over her. This man, even after so many years of being married, was still surprised every time he woke up to find her in the same room as him. As though he still couldn’t believe that he was lucky enough to have married her! She forced a smile, “Why? Can’t I visit my husband in the middle of the night?”

Nanda laughed nervously; he couldn’t read Yashoda at times.

Yashoda sighed, “I have decided to return to Vrindavana, would you talk to Kanha and make the arrangements?”

“Of course, if you wish we’ll leave tomorrow itself! But, what happened, I thought you had decided to stay longer?”

“I feel like we’ve imposed on them enough. It’s time to go now.”

Yashoda’s face glistened in the candlelight, “I think I am ready to give us another chance. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to move past what happened, but I just want you to know, that I want the man that I married returned to me. The one that would follow me around the village, and would break the pots that I carried, just to prove his courage.” She smiled slightly, “Yes, mukhiya ji, I know who taught our Kanha that trick.” Nanda lowered his head to hide a sheepish grin.

“However,” Yashoda continued, “You will give up being mukhiya once we get back. I hate the shade of you that politics brings out. And, I will never hear another word about ‘the greater good’. Understood?” Her large eyes clung desperately to her husband’s face.

Nanda embraced his wife, his eyes welling up, “Your every command will be fulfilled, Yashode! I’ll never speak nor do anything without your command henceforth, my queen!”

Yashoda swatted away his hands, with a glare in her eyes, “Fifty years went by, and you still say the same wretched words.”

Nanda smiled, allowing deep wrinkles to form on his kind face, “Fifty years, and you still melt at that, say who’s the fool now?”

“It’s still you, Nanda-raja,” Yashoda settled down, her head laid on his chest, smiling sadly, “but at least you’re my fool!”

---

The same night, Rohini too had ventured out, seeking her husband, praying to the gods above so that she would find him alone. She internally cursed herself for not being able to control herself in front of Yashoda, making them both relive the most traumatic moments of their lives when mere moments ago they had been laughing and joking. Nowadays, more often than not, Rohini found herself being a cynic. She had lived a hard yet pious life, and despite all that effort, the promised rewards seemed to be avoiding her altogether.

The deities seemed to heed her prayers at that moment however, as she saw her husband strolling lazily with a glass of wine under an arch of jasmine in the moonlit royal garden. The salty winds picked up the maddening fragrance of the ascetic flowers, as Rohini walked up to Vasudeva.

Declining his offer to share his drink, Rohini simply took his arm and laid her head on his shoulder. “Can we not go travelling for a day or two, my lord?” She whispered, “We can go visit some beaches along the coast.”

“Why beaches, dear? Won’t they spoil your clothes?” Vasudeva chuckled, “Let’s go to Raivataka! We can have a picnic. Your co-wives could also come, and we can invite some dancers to showcase their art! I’ll make sure the boys come too, and Subhadra! That one must come; I hardly see her enjoying herself nowadays!”

Rohini turned her face away. Vasudeva had to know this was hurtful. Rohini had never really approved of Vasudeva’s marriage to Devaki, or her sisters, who were also wed to him at the same altar. She had however never found an appropriate time to voice her protest after their lives had been turned upside down by that same marriage. Having met the broken Devaki after all those years, she hadn’t found the heart then either.

Being known as Vasudeva’s favourite wife was the one little consolation that Rohini had not found the courage to snatch in a battle of wills from that grieving woman.

Undeniably still, Rohini and Vasudeva had always shared a special bond. The same bond, which had led her, a Kauravi princess, to seek shelter in a cowherd’s home without a single question asked in return. The same bond had made her perform those menial tasks in Yashoda’s household, year after year, with not a single complaint on her lips. Sure, they were always apologetic, but Rohini? She had been her exiled father’s only child, and up until that fateful day, her husband’s only queen.

Those chilling nights spent hiding among the putrid smelling livestock, suppressing involuntary cries of abject terror as Kamsa’s soldiers hunted her across the kingdom, surviving off of the scraps that Yashoda could sneak in but once a day while dodging those monsters!

All those afternoons spent consoling Yashoda, as the boys marched off on various demon-killing adventures, all while battling the crippling anxiety of whether that was to be the day when all their skeletons were to come tumbling out of the closet!

The excruciating month that had passed after Krishna had killed Kamsa. Waiting each pitiful day and night for that one message from her beloved- come back. Forcing back that smile that kept creeping up to her lips, as she sat every day before her mirror adorning herself in long-abandoned silks and gold, while listening to her betrayed, broken, best friend’s sobs coming from the next room. Lowering her eyes as she passed her kind protector sitting stone-faced at the doorframe, while countless innocent villages wept at his feet.

All of it done in the name of love. The bond that she had spent her life serving, at this latter stage of her life, seemed a touch stronger on her part.

From the moment she had re-entered the city of Mathura, she had felt like a stranger. The city had changed, and so had she. At the palace gates, she had been greeted by Vasudeva, and his wives.

“You are still just as beautiful as the day I came to wed you in Hastinapura,” Vasudeva had whispered in her ears, as he had led her up the steep stairs. Rohini had blushed and nuzzled further into his arms.

Soon, she had discovered that, for better or for worse, her husband had, in his heart, remained that young man at the cusp of his thirties, while she had blossomed into the middle-aged mother of two adults and a third. There was no dearth of love between them, but Rohini could hardly keep up with Vasudeva’s enthusiasm.

There were so many firsts that Rohini had realized that he had missed. While she relished in introducing a new recipe, or a more fashionable drape to him, she still mourned the chance to have experienced them for the first time together. Soon, she had realized that the delicate pleasures that she could share with him were well-eclipsed in comparison to the thrills that the younger members of the family had to offer, and thus had learnt to let him go.

Now she had made peace with only these chance meetings in the secluded corners of the palace. A stolen glance, or an accidental brush against his hand while they passed each other in hallways, was all that Rohini had of her first and last love.

“Or,” Said Vasudeva, breaking Rohini out of the chain of her thoughts, “We could go to Hastinapura?”

“Why?” Rohini’s shoulders stiffened immediately.

“I thought you’d like that? We ought to visit your father. We haven’t done that well…since after our marriage, in fact. I’m sure he’s anxious to see you!”

“Really?” Rohini retorted, “He must be really anxious to have sent zero letters in seventeen years!”

“Come on, my love, he’s old.” Vasudeva coaxed her.

“Oh, so in a palace that apparently has a hundred princes, he couldn’t find even a single scribe to help him write?” Rohini replied sarcastically, “With such difficulty, I’ve secured but one night with you. Must we fight?” She whispered.

“Maybe not, darling. But he is still your father!” He pleaded.

Rohini fumed, “So? Anyway, I have vowed to never return to the kingdom that was stolen so cruelly from my father! Swear on our love that you shall never step foot on that tainted soil, Vasudeva!”

Vasudeva extracted his hand from Rohini’s, “I hope you have not forgotten we have other ties to that family as well.”

“What family?” Rohini shot back, “That’s not my family! The Kuru family dies with me and Devavrata, Vasudeva! They cheated my father and humiliated him. And you lot? You humiliated me by marrying your sister to them!”

“You know I had nothing to do with that, and I know it was a mistake! How many times must I apologize for something I had no control over?!” Vasudeva shouted in anger.

Rohini sighed furiously as she marched back towards her chambers, leaving Vasudeva to curse himself for ever bringing it up.

Chapter 9: The Promise

Krishna jolted awake in the middle of the night, finding his throat parched. His eyes settled on the painted ceiling; the beautiful apsaras adorning the illustration stared back at him with their alluring, lifeless eyes. Krishna laughed to himself. He had been dreaming about the gopis again.

While it had been a happy dream, Krishna still found himself inexplicably sad. Life had been so simple back then! His only worry then had been sneaking into the house after a night’s exploits without tipping his mother off.

Shaking his head, he approached the large window overlooking the royal garden. A golden jug stood by the window. Krishna poured the liquid into a tall glass and immediately gasped upon taking a sip. Scrunching his nose, he held up the glass in the glistening moonlight: pomegranate juice. Krishna sighed. Even after some twenty-odd years, he had failed to convince his staff that even royalty sometimes needed just plain water.

As he cradled his juice, his eyes were drawn to a shaded corner of the garden. Surrounded by servants and decorated foreign wine crates sat Balarama. He was laughing uproariously. Someone was sitting beside him. Krishna squinted his eyes- it was Vasudeva. Krishna felt a strange pang of jealousy. Krishna had never gotten a chance to truly bond with his father. The wars had kept him busy. He hadn’t realized that in the same time, Balarama had managed to somehow forge such an informal relationship with their father that he could sit in his presence, drinking himself silly.

Carrying the jug of the pomegranate juice in one hand, Krishna walked down to them. “What? Having a party without me?” He asked them, forcing a smile.

Balarama vigorously shook his head, looking almost guilty, “We’re only talking.” Krishna chuckled at the sight of the two grown men reaching to find a single non-alcoholic explanation to feed him.

“I’m just kidding,” Krishna said as he sat on the glistening grass.

Balarama cleared his throat, “Honestly, I didn’t think you drank anymore.”

“He used to drink?” Vasudeva chuckled, as he patted Krishna’s cheek affectionately.

“Like a fish!” Balarama nodded as Krishna desperately shushed, “We both used to get drunk and dance with the gopis all night!”

“It’s alright,” said Vasudeva with a grin as he saw Krishna turn red, “We’re all adults here! But why’d you quit?”

Krishna sighed sarcastically, “For the war, Father. I figured one of us needed to stay sober to ensure the safety and security of our army-men.”

“Was that a jab at me, Kanha?” Balarama pouted as he poured out another glass for Krishna.

Krishna shrugged, “You have tried to murder Satrajit twice! Kritavarma, once, and the envoy from Matsya, thrice!”

Balarama scrunched up his nose as he tried to recollect, “Yeah, I remember that guy. What happened to him? I haven’t seen him in a year!”

“Yes, Rama. He has been turning up exclusively in your absence!” Krishna laughed as he took a sip. His mind raced back to the beautiful groves of Vrindavan, where the gopi maidens would corner him nearly every afternoon. They would each offer him a cup of their finest home-brewed liquor and wait for his reaction as he downed each cup. He chuckled as he remembered how the maidens wouldn’t allow him to leave unless he’d offered a fair judgement. He would have to stagger away in small steps when they would finally let him go, too drunk to even think straight.

“You’re no better than me, Krishna! Remember Shankhachooda? We were dead drunk when we went after him!” Balarama chuckled, “I am wearing that gem we got from him right now!” Balarama excitedly pointed to his crown, breaking Krishna out of his reverie.

“Ah,” Krishna exclaimed as he reached out to touch the gem, “That’s where I know that from! I kept thinking it was from the Kauravas or something!”

“Yeah! Do you remember how cross the gopis were when we stopped the guy? They were enjoying the breeze on the guy’s shoulder and were annoyed we rescued them too soon!” Balarama chuckled, “They complained to me for an hour while you went to kill the man!”

“Yes!” Krishna laughed fondly, “They were so sure I’d save them that they just took Shankhachooda for a joyride along the river beach! The poor lad was so confused when they kept thanking and wishing him a safe journey to the afterlife!”

Balarama grinned, “You don’t know anything. Getting rescued by you was more like an item on their bucket list! The next day, they bragged to the village so much that I thought I would barf! Father, you should’ve been there!”

Not receiving a response, the brothers turned to find Vasudeva staring sombrely into the distance. After some coaxing, he spoke in a hoarse voice, “You two, my sons, are so well accomplished, and I am just a useless accessory! You have saved countless lives, and me?! I don’t even deserve to call myself your father!”

“No!” Krishna said, gently caressing his father’s feet, “You have done so much with such a cruel hand that destiny dealt you. You are one of the strongest people we know!”

“Yes, Father!” Balarama continued with a kind smile, “Kanha and I wouldn’t even be alive if you had not saved us from Kamsa!”

“No,” Vasudeva lamented, “I killed innocent children! Devaki’s children, Nanda’s daughter! I have their blood on my hands. Krishna, I have let down every single person in my life! I could save no one!”

“That is not true, Father.” Krishna whispered, “You kept the resistance alive. All the dissidents for all those years, they gathered under your name. They fought under your flag! The same resistance that brought me to Mathura and allowed me to end Kamsa’s cursed reign. You and Mother did that!”

“My sister!” Vasudeva cried, “I did nothing for her!”

Krishna looked at Balarama quizzically. Kunti. The five brothers. Balarama mouthed to him. Krishna nodded, “You were imprisoned, Father. I’m sure no one blames you for not helping Aunt Kunti and her sons when her husband died!”

“What Kunti?” Vasudev sneered, “She is and will always be Pritha! My father, he got rid of her the first chance he got! Helping Kuntibhoja, my foot! He knew where he sent his daughter, and I could do nothing! They changed her name and identity and cut her from her home!”

“You were a child, Father!” Balarama said.

“Yeah, so was she! You know, we used to exchange letters for a couple of years, in secret. Father didn’t want us to mention her in front of anyone you see. He always said I was his firstborn! Then, one day, even the letters stopped. No matter how many times I wrote, she just wouldn’t reply! Then, a year later, she married Pandu. Why?! Everyone knows that the Kuru family is cursed! Ever since the usurper King Shantanu! No worthy king born in their family ever survives their youth! That Devavrata has been coercing innocent families into doomed marriages with his brothers and nephews for generations now! Even Pandu’s so-called father died mysteriously. Who would willingly marry their daughter into such a family? They said the wedding was intimate. Why was she married off to him all of a sudden? Why was none of the family invited? I know that Kuntibhoja did something, or didn’t do something; I don’t know! He failed my Pritha! I failed my Pritha! Then he didn’t even have the decency to take in the kids when Pandu died! No one looked out for her, not even my so-called friends! All of us, we left her all alone to fight her way through this unforgiving world!” Vasudeva’s eyes blazed with conflicting emotions.

He grasped Krishna’s hands and peered into his eyes, “You two! Couldn’t you do something?” Vasudeva finished, breathing heavily.

Krishna cleared his throat. He looked into his father’s desperate eyes. He felt an overwhelming sadness engulf him. “I will, Father,” he squeezed Vasudeva’s palms, taking them into his own, “I promise. Now that I know, no harm will befall them. I will gladly give my life if that spares them even an inconvenience. I will protect Aunt Pritha and her family from every enemy of theirs and mine until my last breath.”

“You’re not a god, Krishna,” Balarama sighed, turning his face away from his father.

“Then I will become one.” Krishna continued seriously, “I will fight Indra, and Agni and Varuna. I will subjugate the world and place it at Aunt Pritha’s feet. The throne of Hastinapura is too little compensation for what she has faced, Father. I will make her sons the Kings of the world! I will happily take on any curse threatening them and suffer it myself. I will give my life, happiness and ideals to their cause! Will you be happy if they are, Father?”

---

Once the morning sun touched his eyes, Krishna woke up to find himself lying under a kadamba tree. Satyabhama was seated beside him, gently pruning a bush nearby.

As Krishna sat up with a smile, the princess turned and shot him a knowing look. “I wasn’t drinking. It was-” Krishna tried to interject, but Satyabhama stopped him mid-sentence, holding a glass of pomegranate juice up to his lips. Krishna started laughing heartily as his wife stared at him, confused.

Krishna threw his arms around the princess, pulling her close, “Honey, this juice might just change the world!” He whispered.

Satyabhama shook her head, “You need to sleep in a proper bed, my raja-gopala! My room tonight,” she whispered conspiratorially with a smirk and wink.

---

“Quite a tall promise you made yesterday. Are you even sure they’re worth it?” Balarama asked once the brothers were settled in Krishna’s office later in the day.

“I just have a feeling,” Krishna stopped mid-sentence as he turned to greet a man who had just walked in the doors. “Uncle Akroora, you came!” Krishna exclaimed as he embraced the man.

“It has been too long, Krishna!” Akroora smiled, “Both of you! Your aunts have been talking my ears off about inviting you two!”

Krishna laughed and agreed before sitting the older man down with a glass of soma.

“I have called you for a very sensitive mission today.” Krishna continued, his face grim and his voice almost a whisper, “Go to Hastinapura! Find the Queen Mother Kunti and her sons. I need you to know everything that there is to know about them, and I want names. Anyone who has hurt them, anyone who has talked ill of them, anyone who has even looked at them wrong! You once brought two sons of this family home, uncle. Now it’s time to bring a daughter home.”

Chapter 10: The Lull before the Storm

The next morning, Krishna opened his eyes to find the worried faces of Rukmini and Yashoda peering over him. Rubbing his eyes, he sat up, only to realize the sun had risen almost to the centre of the sky. “What?” He muttered to himself when he noticed, a bowl of water and a cloth lying beside him. He realized with growing irritation that he had missed half of the day.

“You had a high fever, all last night.” Rukmini added helpfully, “You don’t remember? Your attendants woke me up when you wouldn’t get up for dinner!”

Yashoda looked more annoyed than worried as she pushed him back into the bed, “All that work, I’d warned you, Kanha. Would you never listen?! Your wives also didn’t get to sleep the entire night yesterday; I had to postpone my return. Are you happy?!”

Krishna shook his head weakly. He must have caught a chill, having fallen asleep out in the open the previous night.

“I’m sorry,” He added.

“You should be!” Yashoda snapped again as she leaned to take his temperature.

Krishna sighed and turned to his wife, “Where are the other two over-thinkers? Gone to announce it up and down the city square, have they?”

Rukmini smiled, running her fingers through his hair, “Jambavati went to make you some stew...don’t worry, I’ll slip in some honey to temper the spice when she’s not looking! And Bhama? Well, she went to collect the doctors!”

“Doctors, plural?” Krishna asked gingerly.

“Well, her target is fifty, but we’ll see.” Rukmini smiled brightly, “Although she is an overachiever, so you never know!”

“And, who’s going to pay for all of them?” Krishna asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Probably you, my lord,” Rukmini replied gently, entirely missing the sarcasm in his voice.

“Well, where do you think you’re going now?” Called Yashoda, as Krishna stopped in his tracks, one leg hanging out of the bed, “Well, the parliament...like, my job?” He retorted.

“Can’t you skip just one day?” Rukmini pleaded.

“I cannot, my dear. I must go.” Krishna sniffled.

“Yeah,” Spoke Yashoda, arching a brow, “Fine! Just walk up to that door without help, huh? Then you can go wherever you want to!”

Krishna stopped to ponder a bit. His head was really spinning a mile an hour. To venture out in this state might attract more gossip than it was worth. “Fine,” he conceded, “The living room, then. I’ll work from home.”

Yashoda looked angrier, but Rukmini stepped in, “Better seal the deal, maiya. He’ll work either way. This way at least we can keep an eye on him.”

---

Krishna sighed as he looked around him. In the short time that it had taken him to descend from his bedroom to the living room, his wives, with the help of Manmatha, had created a makeshift bed in there. He was propped up by at least twelve soft pillows and Yashoda had insisted on wrapping him in a woollen shawl.

“Bhama said this is fashionable nowadays, Kanha!” She had said, “You know she’s never wrong about this sort of thing!”

She was now sitting beside him, feeding him Jambavati’s spicy stew as he tried to ignore the sniggering of the people who had brought him new ordinances to sign. Rukmini graced a throne beside him, her eyes fixed on Krishna’s face. By divine grace, he had been able to convince at least Jambavati and Satyabhama to return to their quarters. He shuddered to think of the gossip that would filter through the parliament if they saw him being fussed over like a baby by four grown women!

An attendant entered, announcing the arrival of the Prince Shishupala of Chedi.

Krishna’s jaw hardened at the mention. “Go,” he whispered to Rukmini, “That idiot spews double the poison when he sees you! Maiya, you too! You can come back when he’s gone.”

Rukmini left the room, muttering insults under her breath, marching Yashoda out with her, despite her protests. The last thing she wanted to was to have a civil conversation with her ex-fiancé.

Krishna sighed as he braced for the oncoming unpleasantness.

Shishupala, his cousin, was always too eager to lock proverbial horns with him. Although he never dared to go as far as to directly go to war against Krishna, his comments and jibes were a constant source of annoyance at family reunions. He was one of Emperor Jarasandha’s closest lackeys, which gave him some sense of superiority as the latter constantly fanned his hatred of Krishna.

Even though he was tired of listening to Shishupala, Krishna mostly chose to ignore him because of a promise that he had made to Shishupala’s mother, one of his aunts, a long time ago. He was to pardon one hundred mistakes of his bratty cousin, who spared no occasion to mouth off to him. Rukmini being betrothed to him before Krishna had abducted and married her, complicated matters significantly.

Krishna forced himself to smile, as Shishupala swaggered in. Immediately he sat down on the throne Rukmini had been occupying. As usual, he had paid no heed to the convention where one must not take a seat in the presence of an elder unless specifically invited. Then again, armed with the stories of Krishna’s humble upbringing, Shishupala had never really considered him a proper ‘elder’ to begin with.

“What?” Krishna snapped, his irritation bubbling up with his returning fever.

“Just wanted to impart some friendly advice, cousin to cousin.” He smirked, “I had gone to visit dear Duryodhana the other day, and saw your assistant, that old Akroora, getting real chummy with Auntie Kunti’s kids. Their situation is really messy. Even I am telling you that! It’d be in your best interest to keep your nose out of it. They’re really unlucky, even for their own flesh and blood! Why do you think no one talks to that side of the family?”

Krishna spoke sourly, “My parents were held captive in a dungeon for twenty-five years. I’d say that’s pretty darned unlucky. So, would y’all not talk to us as well, if given the chance?”

“Exactly!” Said Shishupala, baring his teeth, “You do get the point. I honestly don’t understand why my father likes you this much, given you are the cause of all your family’s problems! Uncle Vasudeva was really a fool to have sa-”

“Shishupala!” Krishna interrupted, “The vow I made to your mother keeps me from killing you, not smacking you across the face, so don’t tempt me!”

“Ooh, the cowherd threatens me!” Shishupala spoke mockingly, “Count your lucky stars that I didn’t tell anyone that I saw your spy lurking around in Hastinapura!”

Krishna laughed in spite of himself, “Ah, thank you, my brother, from the bottom of my heart, for not telling them how the esteemed messenger, a fellow parliamentarian, that I sent to the Kuru royal court with gifts for the lot of them, was roaming the palace in his free time!”

Shishupala grunted, as he changed the subject, “Well, all this talk about mother reminds me, she’s dead.”

“What?!” Krishna exclaimed as he sat up straight, almost dropping his stew over his lap, “When?! What happened?”

“Oh, she slipped on the stairs and hit her head I heard. I was in Hastinapura sorting your mess!” Shishupala hissed back.

“And you were planning to tell us when?” Krishna spoke through gritted teeth, “When’s the prayer meeting?”

“What prayer meeting? We don’t have that for women, right? In Chedi, at least I’ve never seen one.” Shishupala scrunched his nose.

“You do realize that she is the only reason that you’re alive, right? No, I’m not talking about my deal with her,” Krishna held up a hand, “Your father was about to have you thrown in a ditch, scared by your four arms. She’s been saving your arse since the day you were born! She was ready to leave your father; to go live in a forest in a thatched hut, begging for alms if that was to be the cost for keeping you alive!” Krishna pulled a finger to his lips to stop Shishupala from interrupting, “You don’t even care though, do you? Well, I am sorry, my bad. I had expectations.” Krishna shook his head, “I’ll have a prayer arranged for her here. You and your father come or don’t: I do not even care. Well, there’s the door. Please see yourself out before I lose my mind!”

Krishna found himself breathing heavily, vision nearly blinded with rage, as he watched his ‘cousin’ walk out, scattering a string of expletives on his way. Yashoda was standing behind the doorway listening to their conversation. She rushed in with a glass of water, gently caressing Krishna’s hair. That would calm him down as a child, but Krishna seemed too angry to be pacified by it now. It was the first time Yashoda had seen this side of her son.

“What does he think?” Krishna fumed, “That we’re all joking when we caution him? And mention the deal with his mother? Wars are started for less than what he puts us through on a regular basis! He thinks I won’t ever have the heart to actually kill him. Well, I would’ve...” Krishna trailed off, and Yashoda tried to shush him in vain.

Suddenly, Manmatha rushed into the room. He gasped as he had run all the way up from the beach. “Sage Durvasa is here; he wants you and the princess.” He said, panting. Krishna sighed. This was bound to happen. The crown jewel of an already bad day.

“Of course,” He said exasperatedly, “Where is he?”

“Making a scene at the main square.” Manmatha replied nonchalantly. Even he was acquainted with the idiosyncrasies of this sage, albeit from a distance.

“Of course he is.” Krishna laughed ruefully. Turning to Yashoda, he asked where Rukmini had disappeared to.

“She said she felt dirtied by the words of your cousin, so she went to take a bath.” Yashoda replied in a small voice.

“I’ll tell her to meet you there,” Whistled Manmatha as he flew past them. Krishna let out a miffed grunt as he tried to steady his head in order to face the troublemaker rishi.

Chapter 11: The Blazing Fire

Rukmini rushed down a side path parallel to the main street, Manmatha trailing along close behind her. In her hurry, she had barely even worn any jewellery. She pushed through the crowd gathered along the main road to see the angry sage. Krishna was already there, standing quietly as the sage cursed up a storm of insults. Krishna’s face was inscrutable but his eyes lit up the moment he spotted Rukmini. Beckoning her close, he whispered to her, “He seeks your hospitality, Vaidarbhi. He will not settle for anything less.”

Rukmini stole a glance at the sage before lowering her eyes as was customary. His eyes were bloodshot, his face almost hidden by his matted mane. He smelled like the accumulation of dirt and slime over a decade and was dressed in tattered tiger skin.

Rukmini had grown up listening to the stories about Durvasa’s temper and his affinity for cursing anyone and everyone. She was terrified of the stories alone, and above all, she knew her husband was not exactly fond of him. They were both devotees of Lord Shiva and hence tended to run into each other at regular intervals at conventions and festivals. Rukmini had never seen Krishna return happy from any of these meetings.

“Working on your makeup, were you?” The sage taunted, breaking Rukmini’s chain of thoughts. She hesitated, not knowing how to respond to such a comment. Krishna cleared his throat, “We were unprepared, Sir. This won’t happen again.” Rukmini looked up at Krishna. His face was still inscrutable, but his jaw had hardened and his clenched knuckles were white as a sheet.

“Too late for that, is it not, Vaasudeva? I see that your wife dares to stand in her fancy slippers while my feet burn on these marble tiles you have installed here! Is this how your women receive guests in your new kingdom?” Rukmini’s eyes shot towards Krishna’s feet. He had already removed his boots, standing barefoot. Rukmini quickly kicked off her sandals, nervously shifting from one foot to another as the hot tiles burned her feet. Durvasa continued, “What? Is she too good to answer when spoken to?”

Rukmini’s eyes burned with humiliation. How dare he talk down to her, in front of all their subjects no less! Still, she controlled herself, mumbling a brief apology. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Manmatha too was shaking with rage, his hand steady on the hilt of his sword. However, Krishna simply smiled, “Wouldn’t you like to visit our humble abode? What would you like for lunch?” He said, as he slowly whisked the sage away from her. Rukmini felt Manmatha’s hot, shallow breath on her shoulder. “You just say the word, your grace,” He whispered, “I’ll take his head off before he can even blink!”

Rukmini gulped and slowly shook her head, “Do not sin on my account, let it go.”

---

In the afternoon, after lunch, Durvasa summoned Krishna and Rukmini to the guest quarters. Rukmini could’ve sobbed when Manmatha came to fetch her.

He had already made her and her co-wives cook the same meal thrice, each time rejecting it citing some minor issue. “Is he a sage or our evil mother-in-law?” Satyabhama had quipped while mincing the vegetables for the third time.

“Maybe he heard how exceedingly nice our actual mothers-in-law are, and came here to give us a taste of the other experience!” Rukmini had laughed ruefully.

Rukmini sighed as she looked at Krishna. He was pressing the sage’s feet with the same neutral expression adorning his face. She wondered if his fever had subsided yet, but she was too afraid to ask, lest the sage start firing off again. Only a few hours ago Durvasa had made him clean the entire guest quarters by himself. She wondered why did the sage insist on such bizarre, seemingly useless shows of faith. It must add up to something, she tried to convince herself.

Durvasa, meanwhile had started speaking to them, “So, the lunch was okay, but I had expected better from your wives, Vaasudeva. Anyway, would you two not take me sightseeing?”

“Of course, Sir.” Krishna smiled briefly, “I’ll order a chariot to be drawn up. We can start whenever you wish.”

Rukmini was surprised to see Durvasa smile through his peppery beard. “Why waste good daylight? Let’s start now!” He exclaimed as he jumped down. Rukmini breathed a sigh of relief as she watched him leave. Happily, she called up Daruka, Krishna’s charioteer, to prepare Krishna’s eagle-flagged chariot itself to take the sage around the city.

She watched, smiling, as Durvasa settled in the chariot, patting the cushions for good measure. Half the city had turned out outside the palace gates to see the prince’s chariot being paraded. Krishna had decided to drive the sage around himself. However, at the moment that Krishna was about to mount the chariot, Durvasa held up a finger, smiling. Krishna looked at him quizzically. “Untie the horses,” Durvasa said.

“Why, Sir? Do you not like them? We have others!” Krishna reasoned.

“No, no... just humour me, untie them.” Durvasa was still smiling. Rukmini felt strangely uneasy at that moment. A chariot without a steed? Krishna untied the beasts without another word and turned towards the sage, expectantly.

“Now get in there.”

Rukmini gasped as realization dawned on her. Durvasa expected Krishna to pull the chariot himself. Rukmini felt like cursing herself for suggesting they take this one. This was one of the heaviest chariots they had, in addition to being the most ornate. Krishna stared at the sage for a few seconds before wordlessly picking up the huge golden yokes. “Wait!” Cried the sage. Rukmini prayed with all her heart for this to be a test, one that Krishna had passed, but instead, the man stared at her, “What, do you need a special invitation, better half?” Rukmini looked bewildered. Surely, he couldn’t expect her to pull this enormous car? The yokes themselves were taller than her! However, as she met the sage’s eyes, she realized he was completely serious, and was quite enjoying bringing her husband ‘down a few pegs’ as he had put it so eloquently some time earlier. As she hesitatingly stepped between the yokes, narrowly avoiding the horses’ ropes hanging from the sides, she saw Krishna whip back toward the sage. Krishna was staring unblinkingly at his face, his eyes blazing. Rukmini subtly touched his arm to signal him to give in. With a jolt, she realized that he was still burning up. Krishna slowly lowered his eyes to meet hers. She felt like crying as she saw the helplessness in his eyes.

Without another word, Krishna started pulling the chariot. Rukmini tried her best to reduce his efforts but to no avail. Krishna pulled the bulk of the chariot, even though he occasionally stumbled, leaning on Rukmini for support. It pained her to hear his breaths get shallower and more laboured as they made their way through the main street. Then she heard...CRACK! Somehow, Durvasa had sneaked a whip past all of them. Rukmini turned immediately to Krishna, whose face was contorted in pain. Before she could react, however, she felt a searing pain rip through her back. She looked up to see Krishna had turned back as well, glaring at the sage. “Well, now you know how your poor horses feel!” He laughed as he cracked it again, causing Rukmini to flinch instinctively. Desperately, she shook her head at Krishna. Not here, please, she pleaded. Krishna shook his head as he picked up the yoke again, and started walking.

As they had walked through the crowd of people who had come to see them, the cheering crowd had fallen silent, appalled at this inhumane treatment of their beloved prince and princess. However, none of them dared to protest, or even help, for they were all too familiar with Durvasa’s reputation. Rukmini had gritted her teeth, trying her best not to react, even though she could feel streams of blood gliding down her back seeping through her now-tattered saree. Glancing at Krishna, she could see that his back was in a similar state as well, he was stumbling at every other step now. Drawing in deep breaths, she tried to focus every bit of her strength on the yoke she was pulling, to try and take at least some of the pressure off of her husband.

However, Rukmini had never performed such hard labour in her life. Soon, she was coughing from exertion. “Water?” She croaked to Krishna. Immediately she felt a forward recoil on her arm. Krishna had halted the chariot and refused to move. “Does anyone have water here?” He asked the crowd. Immediately, a few arms thrust forward glasses of various shapes and sizes at thems. Rukmini took one of them and took a sip. Immediately, she spit it out and pushed the glass into Krishna’s hand. Krishna smelled it and looked around. By divine chance, they had stopped right in front of a winery, and the owner had produced whatever liquid he had spotted first. “Anyone has water that isn’t actually wine?” He called out while throwing a reproachful glance at the bartender. An old woman finally produced some water from a nearby shop. Rukmini gratefully took the container from the woman, quenching her thirst.

Both Rukmini and Krishna whipped around at the swish of another whiplash. Durvasa had cracked his whip against one of the wheels of the chariot, chipping the paint, “Having a grand old time, wine-tasting, aren’t we?” He taunted, as Rukmini recoiled from the sound itself. Durvasa continued, “Did not even feel the need to seek permission first, eh? Daughter of Bhishmaka? Addiction is a terrible disease you know, corrupts a person from the inside out. I’ve met both your father and brother, dear. No wonder you’re going down the same path, it is in your blood after all!”

Rukmini couldn’t stop herself from breaking down this time. She had worked so hard to gain the trust of the citizens of Dwarika, to rid herself of the shame that her murderous brother had brought upon her. Here he was, bringing it all down with a single, cruel comment! Sowing the seeds of distrust and derision once more in the brains of these people! Rukmini helplessly let her tears fall to the ground, tugging desperately at the end of Krishna’s dress.

Durvasa, however, was in no mood to stop. He continued berating her, finally raising his whip a final time, to hit her into compliance. Rukmini hid her face in her palms trying to brace herself for the impact but to her surprise, it never came. She slowly opened her eyes to see Krishna holding the other end of the whip in his hand. His eyes were fixed on Durvasa, watery and burning in anger. He was shaking furiously. With a swift motion, he snatched the whip from Durvasa’s hand. Rukmini gasped. For a second it seemed like Krishna would hit him back. She couldn’t lie to herself, that she silently wished that he would.

However, Krishna simply wrapped the whip around his arm and resumed pulling the chariot with renewed vigour. All around her, Rukmini saw the people bowing down to them, touching their feet through the barricade, whispering encouragements. Rukmini, at this point, did not even have the energy to thank them, much less to push them out of the way of the heavy, sharp-edged wheels.

---

Durvasa had let the couple return to their chambers only past midnight, and only once they had pulled him around the entire island. Rukmini had still been shivering from shock when Krishna had laid her down on his bed. He had gently wiped the dried blood off her back, applying ointment as he went while Jambavati ran a soaked towel over her calloused feet. Satyabhama had paced up and down the room, occasionally mumbling insults under her breath. Rukmini had tried to get her servants to attend to Krishna first but he had shooed them off citing a warrior’s patience.

While Rukmini had expected Satyabhama to blow up at their treatment, what none of them had expected was Yashoda’s reaction. She had yelped when she’d seen their backs and had been about to go confront Durvasa herself. Krishna had just about managed to calm her down, albeit with great difficulty.

“Who does he think he is!” She had shrieked, “Is this some twisted vengeance for that time when you had stolen his lunch when you were five years old?!” Despite the dire situation, Krishna had laughed. “I seriously doubt he even remembers that he visited us that time, maiya!” He had said with a tiny smile playing on his lips even as he had gently tried to guide Yashoda back to her room.

Rukmini tried to hide it, but couldn’t stop flinching occasionally as she tried to find a comfortable position to sleep in. The wounds on her back seared if she moved even an inch.

She had thought that Krishna had already fallen asleep, but as she turned, she found him lying awake, his head laid up on his hand, peering over her.

“Can’t sleep?” He smiled at her briefly, “I’m sorry I put you through this. I was unsure of who he would choose to curse if either you or I stood up to him. You’ve heard his words, he is capable of rousing a revolt within our kingdom, and inciting terrible war outside! Even without his curses, he is capable of destroying many things.”

“You did what you had to.” Rukmini whispered. She tried not to let the pain show on her face. However, nothing ever evaded Krishna’s sharp gaze, “Is it too bad? Shall we summon the doctor?”

Rukmini shook her head. The very thought of the doctor clicking in disapproval, and the news somehow getting to Durvasa, made her nauseous. Krishna nodded, “Okay, don’t strain yourself, but let me call someone. How about Mayavati? I heard she’s a gifted healer. Maybe she has something in her magic kit that will speed up the healing process!”

Rukmini wasn’t too happy with the proposal. She didn’t like Mayavati very much, but she also knew her husband. Once he’d mentioned it, Krishna wouldn’t cease till he had convinced her. So, she weakly nodded her assent.

---

Rukmini sniffled as Mayavati walked in with Rukmavati. The latter was carrying a huge trunk, which she propped up against the bedframe. Rukmini clutched at her chest, almost laughing, “What have you done, Mayavate? Didn’t Krishna tell you to be discreet?”

“Oh, he did, so I created a wall of illusion to hide us as we came. No muss, no fuss...” Mayavati laughed cheerfully, “Now show me what happened?”

“Nothing much,” Rukmini protested as the two women climbed up on the bed on either side of her, “I just wanted something to numb the pain, so I could go to sleep. I am so uncomfortable as is...what are you doing?”

Mayavati had lain her head on Rukmini’s stomach. “Did you tell anyone?” She whispered conspiratorially, a smile spreading on her attractive face.

“What will mother tell?” Rukmavati asked innocently.

Rukmini blushed furiously. This was also part of the reason she had been refusing to see the royal doctor. “Shh, you two! Don’t go gossiping all over town now!” She chided them.

“Did you tell the prince about the baby?” Mayavati asked kindly.

Rukmini sighed, “Not yet. Please don’t tell him! Not now at least. He would end up with brahma-hatya on the list of his sins if he knew!”

“Frankly, I wouldn’t blame him! But I think he already has made an entry in that list of yours, or at least will do it soon. I saw him walking rather furiously towards Durvasa’s room.” Mayavati declared.

Rukmini gasped, “And you didn’t stop him?”

Mayavati raised an eyebrow, “He is technically my father-in-law, and a prince on top of that. I am not about to cross his path even if I think he’s making the stupidest decision of his life!”

---

Krishna leaned on the doorframe of Durvasa’s room. The sage was busy performing his nightly yajna.

After some time, the sage finally ended his meditation and invited him in. Krishna, however, stood at the doorframe as he spoke, “How do you even look your Lord in the eye after what you do every day?”

Durvasa’s eyes flickered before the dancing flame atop the sacred altar, “I have my understanding with the Lord. Do you?”

Krishna’s nostrils flared, as his eyes blazed, “You’re a sadist, Sir. You take pleasure in torturing innocent men, and women. Don’t think I haven’t heard your stories.” He drew closer to the rishi, leaning over the open fire. One of his necklaces that hung over the fire grew hot, reddening his neck. Krishna seemed to pay no attention to it, “I know all about you, Durvasa. You burned your wife alive, and then brought her back to life only to turn her into a tree?! You forced Shakuntala to raise a child on her own, rejected by her husband!” Krishna grasped the shoulder of Durvasa, making him flinch as he whispered, “I know what you did to Kunti,”

Durvasa hesitated for a second, “You don’t realize what power I hold, Krishna. You can’t even kill me. Killing Brahmans is a sin!”

“I’ve committed plenty of sins, Durvasa,” Krishna slipped down onto the floor beside the sage, encroaching uncomfortably in his personal space, “And you know what, I have accepted the consequences of those. I have made peace with my oncoming punishments. So, Durvasa, I really don’t mind adding another one on there. See, I’ve got you now. I refuse to give you the satisfaction of hurting me further. I’d rather kill you first and take the penalty for that.”

Durvasa sputtered, “You...you filthy thief! From your childhood, I’d known you’d turn out this way!”

Krishna chuckled, slapping his thigh, “So it is about that?! Maiya was right after all; you absolute freaking child! You’ve held that grudge for thirty years?!” Krishna’s face then grew solemn, “Now you listen to me loud and clear. Take your imbecile students, and be gone from here by daybreak. If you ever try to even think of harming anyone that is protected by me, you will live to regret it! Remember, I am not as devout as I look, Durvasa!”

“Huh,” Durvasa protested, “You can’t drive a guest from your house! Lord Shiva would be ashamed of you if you did!”

Krishna chortled, as he suddenly grabbed Durvasa’s hand, “Really, Sir? Say what, let’s take a trip to Kailasha right now! Let’s see how thrilled, Shiva, the beloved husband of Sati and the eternal lover of Parvati, is to hear all about what you did to my wife. Shall we?”

Durvasa glared at him, defeated at his own argument.

---

The next morning, Rukmini woke up to find, with incredulity, a note lying at her door. An apology, addressed from Durvasa! She was sure that she definitely was the only woman in the entire world to have received this specimen! Excitedly she woke up Krishna, who only smiled sweetly, denying any involvement, no matter how many times Rukmini asked.

Finally, she gave up, choosing instead to lie down on his chest, smiling shyly, “Unlike you, I actually have something to tell.” She whispered as she nuzzled her face at the nape of his neck.

Chapter 12: Backwards and Forwards

Almost a year had passed since sage Durvasa’s fateful visit to Dwarika. The news of Rukmini’s pregnancy had spread through the palace overnight like Satyabhama’s passion project- the unruly vines enveloping nearly every wall of the royal palace that burst into blossoms at the turn of every season. Yashoda had once again delayed her departure, albeit with light-hearted complaints about having to unpack her bags every time she tried to leave. Rukmini’s sister-in-law had come over to stay for the duration of the pregnancy, with her husband tagging along sourly.

Even though Rukmi had glared at Krishna the entire time, he had still cried upon meeting his sister and kissed Manmatha’s forehead while exclaiming how much the young boy resembled his ‘uncle’. Rukmini hadn’t bothered to tell him about the adoption, and neither had Rukmavati.

Additionally, Krishna had successfully gotten a proposal banning alcohol on the island of Dwarika to pass in the parliament, and Balarama had left on an angry pilgrimage, after a blowout row with Krishna regarding the same.

Subhadra, inspired by Yashoda, had taken to churning out colourful sweaters at an alarming rate, despite the marked absence of a proper winter season in their seaside mansions. While no one had batted an eye when the entire royal family had received matching sweaters from her quarters, Krishna had finally deemed it necessary to have a talk with her when all the ministers had turned up panting, to a parliamentary session, wearing matching blue and yellow sweaters in the sultry summer heat.

Vasudeva had taken up primary residence in Prabhasa where liquor was still aplenty, and Krishna had attempted to have a productive conversation with his mother after having given up on the prospect for almost a decade.

---

When Krishna had entered Devaki’s darkened chambers when they had first moved to Dwarika, he had been taken aback by the apparent neglect of the rooms. However, he had known, even then, better than to override the wishes of his mother, who preferred the rooms just as they were. Inside this unruly cave, he had found his mother seated on her bed, playing with her ‘children’.

Having been imprisoned for the better part of her life, Devaki had gotten used to further enclosing herself within an imaginary world- one where she had never lost control of her life. As Devaki had grown more and more terrified of the real world, she had wrapped herself in the imaginary one. In Devaki’s mind, her six older children remained alive and thriving, and Devaki spent most of her time immersed in this perfect world she had constructed for herself. Here, even though decades had passed, her children never aged, and never died.

Krishna liked to come to her at least once a week, spending hours playing with her pretend children, for he couldn’t bring himself to break her illusion. Not that he hadn’t tried.

When he was younger, he had often appealed to his mother’s common sense, in an attempt to drag her back to reality, but over time he had made peace with their peculiar arrangement that allowed them to have some semblance of a civil relationship.

When he was younger, Krishna would return from these visits almost in tears. Most of the time, Devaki would be so engrossed in her own world, that she would fail to even recognize her living son. Those days, Krishna would run to seek refuge in Rohini’s arms, only to be thrown back into the unforgiving field of battle. Now, Krishna just went along with whatever Devaki wished on a particular day, only gently nudging her with the latest news of their family now and then.

“You’re not my son, Krishna. I don’t know why everyone keeps saying that! You’re God, right?” Devaki would implore, in between her plays, “You saved me, and my boys!”

“Yeah,” Krishna would nod, forcing a smile through profound sadness, “But that’s a secret, remember? To the rest of the world, I am your son, and the only one, mind you!”

One day, Devaki had asked him, “Why wouldn’t you let me take the boys out for a walk? You said there was a beach!” Devaki had been brought to Dwarika in a closed palanquin. She had insisted upon never opening the shutters ‘lest the enemy take her sons away’. Hence, while she had heard the sound of the waves from the seclusion of her room, she had never actually felt the ocean at her feet.

“Yes,” Krishna had said as his eyes had lit up, “You and I should definitely take a walk on the beach. I’d love to show you all the nice spots, and the boats, and the shops!”

“But what about the children? You said the children aren’t allowed on the beach!” Devaki had asked innocently.

“Yes! There are strong winds, that might blow them away!” Krishna had nodded, “They’ll be fine alone here for an hour. I can call a nanny, and then you and I could go!”

Devaki had shaken her head agitatedly, “I cannot leave them even for a second! No matter what you tell me.”

“That’s okay!” Krishna had backed off. He always steered clear of actually upsetting her.

“Let’s not, then.” He had said instead, “How about instead, I open that window? Your rooms are all sea-facing, you know! You could see the ocean from right here!”

Devaki had shaken her head, “I don’t know. What about the wind?”

Krishna had held her palms in his, “You and I will hold the boys’ hands very tightly! How about then?”

Devaki had nodded. Although she hadn’t been fully convinced, dread always creeping up the back of her neck, she also hadn’t been able to bring herself to completely disregard this young man’s suggestions. Even though she wasn’t quite sure why, she had always implicitly trusted him.

Krishna, on the other hand, had been glad for every little victory he had gotten. Throwing open the wide window, he had invited the frail woman to come closer to him. Devaki had stood transfixed, taking in the petrichor of the waves that crashed on the rocks, her palms still curled around her imaginary children. Krishna too had stood by the window, feeling the fresh breeze wash over his face, looking over occasionally at his mother’s face, who still remained six children away.

As Krishna had watched, Devaki’s palms had fallen to her side, lax against her plain dress. Her gaze had been fixed upon the sky, now bursting with colour, as the sun neared the horizon against the sparkling, dancing ocean. It had seemed as though, just for a second, she had forgotten about the children. Krishna had inched closer, carefully placing a hand on her shoulder, “You know, mother, I just wanted you to know this: I understand what happened now. What truly happened. With you. With Father.”

Devaki had looked up at him quizzically, “How would you know? You’re God. You know nothing!” She had finished, almost on the brink of anger. It seemed as though, for a split second, she had remembered her reality, and Krishna had turned away, leaving the subject at that.

---

Krishna stood by the gate leading up to Devaki’s bedroom, leaning on the door frame as he watched his mother shuffle from cupboard to cupboard in her room, muttering quietly to herself.

Ever since he had gotten her to trust the open window, Devaki had added more colour to her quarters and wardrobe. She had even asked to be sent some more clothes and had finally begun taking an interest in the colours and fabrics. Krishna, overjoyed, had sent over Jambavati and Satyabhama along with an entourage of tailors and jewellers the very moment he had received her request.

Drawing up courage, Krishna finally walked in, a bright smile on his lips. Devaki laughed as she greeted him, dragging him to the open window. “I’m matching your ocean today!” She exclaimed as she twirled around, showing off her turquoise dress.

Krishna laughed at his mother’s light-hearted display. He lightly ran his fingers over different sapphire-based jewellery sets Devaki had spread out on her dressing table as she looked at him expectantly. Krishna’s smile turned playful as he pulled out an ethereal necklace with sparkling pearls enclosed in bright, pale shells. Devaki gasped in joy as she laid the necklace against her neck and turned to the mirror.

Krishna peered over her head. A good feet and a half taller than his mother, he whispered encouragements as Devaki tried on the necklace.

“Why’d you buy it though?” She asked, “Not that I don’t love it, but any occasion?”

Krishna smiled, happy wrinkles forming around his sparkling eyes, “I- well, a beautiful little girl recently came into our lives. This,” He pointed to the necklace, “Is in her honour.” Krishna drew in a deep breath as he waited for his mother’s reaction.

Devaki nodded as she stepped backwards, leaning back against her bedpost, eyes downcast. Krishna watched her intently as she processed the news. “Good for you,” She whispered after a long silence, “Good that she is born now. No one can snatch her away from you!”

Krishna smiled and nodded despite his eyes watering. He hadn’t told her about his son. He had meant to, after a few days. After the tragedy, he hadn’t found the courage to inform Devaki. Then, time had rolled and rolled, and the appropriate time to tell her had just slipped farther and farther away.

“I do treat you very harshly, don’t I?” said Devaki, seemingly out of nowhere, catching Krishna off-guard. He still shook his head, laughing charmingly.

“Be honest,” she continued, “This old me- you hadn’t bargained for this when you came to live with us!”

Krishna gingerly put an arm around her, “Maybe you were not exactly what I imagined you to be, but you’ve been fantastic. No regrets!” He added, laughing, in an attempt to steer from the conversation.

“Allow me to apologize nevertheless.” His mother whispered as she leaned into his embrace, while Krishna stared blankly at the rolling ocean outside the window. Any emotion slipping through the cracks, and he might have just broken down. And that display of weakness was probably the last thing his mother needed.

Krishna sighed. He didn’t have much of a choice. He spoke after a minute of silence, “Did I ever tell you about Pradyumna?”

“No? Who is he?” Devaki asked.

“Was,” Krishna whispered hoarsely. He recounted, painstakingly steering clear of the gorier details. By the end, Krishna found his palm enclosed in Devaki’s. Her grip was painful, but it made Krishna more grateful than anything. Rising slowly, Devaki gently planted a kiss on his forehead, before wrapping him in a warm embrace, with her chin resting on his head.

“I thought Gods were above these human troubles?” Devaki asked after a while, gently stroking his hair.

“God. Human. Wretched life either way.” Krishna tutted.

“Yes, it is.” Devaki smiled sadly. Oddly, she felt much closer to the young man seated before her, “So, you said you have a daughter now.” It seemed for a brief interval their roles had been reversed.

It was Devaki now, who attempted to lighten the mood, “What did you call her?”

“Charumati,” Said Krishna, relishing every syllable of the name he had chosen himself, “Would you like to meet her?”

“Not today,” Devaki smiled, “But yes.” Even though she had managed to pull herself together for a brief moment, she did not feel she could hold herself much longer. She wanted to be happy, but it was tough to be happy when the ghosts of the past surrounded her at all times. How could she bring herself to be part of a celebration when she couldn’t promise to even pretend to be happy?

Chapter 13: Brotherhood

Krishna closed his eyes as he lay his head on the table. While the cool air gushing in through the window overlooking the ocean brought with it some respite, Krishna felt the exhaustion of the past few weeks creeping up his bones. After all, all he wished to do was run back to Rukmini’s chambers, play with his little daughter and smell her tiny head, while his wife played with his bonny curls. At the same time, even though he had left Manmatha in charge of guarding Rukmini’s room, Krishna still felt uneasy.

The pile of pending papers requiring approval rose a foot above his head, threatening to topple with the gentlest touch of the minutest draft. He sighed loudly, carefully plucking a paper from the top of the pile. It read - “Reimbursement Request for Gifting of Four Cows each to Seven Brahmans”. Krishna plopped his head back onto the table. At least the wood was a welcoming coolant.

At this moment, Krishna looked up as footsteps shuffled into the room and settled in front of him. It was Satyaki.

Krishna waved the paper in his cousin’s face with an exasperated look, “What even is this?! Who gave cows and for what?!” He exclaimed.

Satyaki shrugged as he rescued the paper from his miffed cousin’s fist and put it in a separate bin.

“The Hastinapura reports I gather, brother.” Satyaki held out another stack of papers, “Uncle Akroora had them delivered to me for discretion. I didn’t open the seal.” He smiled.

Krishna laughed as he carefully balanced the papers atop the existing tower, “Feel free to open them next time. I hardly have any secrets from you.”

 Krishna exhaled loudly as he eyed the growing stack. Turning to Satyaki he asked, “Did no one think to send at least half of these to Rama while I was busy tending to my wife?”

Satyaki grimaced. He looked rather embarrassed, “Um, so how do I put this? Brother Rama has been out celebrating the birth of the little angel with a drink...or two...or more? Congratulations, by the way!”

Krishna sighed again, “And where might he be...celebrating?”

Satyaki picked silence to be the best course of action as he traced the outline of a flower etched onto a side of the table.

“Satyaki, think again,” Krishna leaned forward, “Who do you fear more- me or him?”

“You. Anytime.” Satyaki drew a sharp breath, “But I am not sure...one of those illegal bars near the beach maybe?”

“Good choice. Now come,” Krishna captured his cousin by the elbow despite the latter’s weak protests, “Let’s find out together.”

---

As Krishna marched down the road along the beach, Satyaki nervously tagging along, he found his mind wandering back.

To a humid summer night, about a decade back.

When the war with Jarasandha had consumed their lives, raging like a storm right outside the gates of Mathura city.

That night, he had woken up, strewn on a straw bed, after a long day of battle. Feeling a litany of wounds scattered on his body, he had confusedly called out a couple of times- to his brother. Even as the grey outline of the tent roof had come into focus, Krishna had heard a voice to his left.

“What’s a ‘dau’?” A soldier laid similarly on the bed beside him had asked.

“Nothing. By chance did someone send for Prince Rama?” Krishna had asked him.

The soldier had smirked, “Oh you poor thing. How hurt are you?”

Krishna had mustered up a small smile, “My arms feel numb, otherwise I seem fine.”

“Then, clearly you didn’t see who rescued you, did you?”

Krishna had shaken his head weakly. The soldier had laughed again, “This is a prisoners’ tent you see,” He had said, jingling his arms to draw Krishna’s attention to his hands, which were chained securely to the edge of the bed. Krishna had lifted his head a bit to find, with horror, his hands too secured the same way.

Krishna had thrown his head back on the bed, terror creeping up his spine. Turning as much as he could towards his roommate he had whispered, “Does Jarasandha know I’m here?”

“I’d assume not, unless he gets a report for every random boy that his men capture!”

It had been the soldier’s turn to be surprised as Krishna had smiled, “Then you must not know who I am.”

The soldier’s demeanour had predictably changed once Krishna had introduced himself.

“Now I am surprised that the elder prince hasn’t stormed this camp yet!” He had said.

“Rama must not have noticed I am gone.” Krishna had shaken his head, “Just as the boy that cried wolf, I too have disappeared far too many times in the cover of the night. I don’t think anybody would think to look for me until sunup. But wait, I thought taking prisoners was illegal? I read it in the pre-war agreements!”

“Welcome to the real world, your grace.” The soldier had replied sarcastically.

Krishna had huffed, “Please tell me this is not happening!”

“Not like we don’t have prisoner camps!” The soldier had retorted with an ironic smile.

“No, we don’t!” Krishna had exclaimed.

“Oh, but we do. I should know, I was on guard duty until a couple of weeks ago!”

“That can’t be true, we had all signed that agreement-”

Hardly had Krishna finished his sentence, when Jarasandha had entered, accompanied by his bodyguards and a doctor.

Jarasandha had taken a seat beside Krishna, “I assume your arms feel numb. It’s just a normal reaction to the poison- No!” Jarasandha had placed a hand on Krishna’s chest pushing him back down, “It’s just to cauterize the wounds.”

Jarasandha had then slipped his hand under Krishna’s head and gently propped him up, drawing his attention with his other hand tracing a long cut running along his chest.

He had spoken with an unconcerned grin, “This is a poison of our doctors’ devising. When used in minor doses, it helps cauterize particularly nasty wounds. You’re in for a rough night though.”

---

In the morning, Krishna had woken up in a pool of sweat, the poison having burnt through his blood all night, albeit feeling better. Once the sun had risen above their humble lodgings, guards had unlocked him from the straw bed and marched him over to Jarasandha’s private tent.

In that tent, he had had a conversation that rang in his ears, still bringing him to the brink of anger, even a decade later.

Upon entering the tent, Krishna had found Jarasandha in the middle of breakfast. Several empty thrones were laid out in a rectangular fashion. Jarasandha had sat at the head, sipping on a bowl of payasam. In his left hand, he had held a letter, perusing it casually between sips. Jarasandha had given no indication that he’d even seen Krishna, even though, with a mere flick of the hand he had immediately dismissed the guards, leaving Krishna to stand awkwardly before the King. After some deliberation, Krishna had settled down on the tiger-motif throne to the left of the emperor.

The table had been laden with regal food. After a long night rendered tougher with an unplanned fast, Krishna quietly took a bowl and served himself some of the payasam from the King’s bowl.

After a while, Jarasandha had broken the silence, “Stop stealing glances at the letter like a lovesick puppy, boy. It doesn’t contain any state secrets.”

The emperor had continued, “It’s just a letter...from my daughter Asti. You may have heard of her. Here-” He had slid the piece of paper towards Krishna, “Read for yourself. No? Why, Krishna? Well, no problem either way, allow me to summarize. So, my eldest, widowed daughter has been declared inauspicious and debarred from participating in a festival that she has looked forward to ever since she was a toddler. Why? Because someone in this room killed her husband. What’s more? She writes- Prapti, my younger one, is going hungry for days because she thinks that absolves her of the sin of being unfortunate enough to have lost her husband so early in life. Say then Krishna, what should I write back?”

Jarasandha had then set his bowl down on the table. Walking towards Krishna, he had stopped just behind Krishna, with both hands on his shoulders, nails digging into his flesh, “I am not a monster, Krishna, no matter what you’ve been told,” the emperor had continued, “I see you, Krishna. I see the guilt, the second thoughts. They made you do this. Told you lie after lie. It’s almost midday, tell me, prince, so why hasn’t anyone come looking for you?” Jarasandha had smirked, “You know, at first, I thought I would exchange your life for Mathura’s throne. I thought. But then, Krishna, they wouldn’t save your life by exchanging even a bad penny! Don’t you know that? Don’t you feel it? But you?! I am confident, my boy, that the moment that I turn my back, you’ll be out of here. Maybe you’ll even take out a chunk of my army while you’re at it!

“You think I made Kamsa what he was?! That I was behind his heinous crimes?! Go ask your grandfather what he did to your uncle! Ask your grandmother why my daughters do not live in the family house they are legally entitled to!

“I get that you were raised a slave, but why is it so hard for you to shed these shackles in your mind now? You clearly know your worth. Even imprisoned, you dared to take my son’s seat and partook from my sustenance with such ease. I’ve known the Yadavas far longer than you have; I know their pulse. They will never appreciate you. They will keep you tethered like an attack dog, one that is to be unleashed at any undesirable entity. You will spend your life protecting them, and they will not lift even a finger in your favour. You will never achieve anything in their midst, but if you wish, with your permission, I offer my meagre help. I never wished to antagonize you. Never! In fact, I am amazed at your valour. I’d be honoured if I am allowed to give you a place in my army, a throne at my side, and an opportunity to rule the Yadava people exactly like they deserve to be!”

Gathering himself to smile as sweetly as he possibly could, Krishna had whispered, “Is this the same pitch you gave my uncle?”

He had immediately felt the emperor’s fingers tightening on his shoulder, slipping closer to his throat.

“Smart boy!”  Jarasandha had sneered.

Krishna had still smirked back equal disdain, “Jig’s up, Jarasandha. You’re not getting me. Not now, not ever. I’ll admit that it was a good try, but alas not good enough. If you had really understood me, you would know that I don’t give a damn about my so-called family. I fight for my people. The people whose houses your army would pillage. The people whose women they would take. You’d have to kill me before you get to any of them!”

Jarasandha had guffawed, “You know what they call the warriors who wear their hearts on their sleeve, Krishna? Fools! I had clearly overestimated your acumen. You’ve got a lot to learn, boy! I wanted your support, but you gave me a target!”

Krishna had cursed himself then, for being so frank, however the damage had been done. Jarasandha had relinquished him, albeit with a shove that had left him at the edge of his seat, wincing. The emperor had then sat down, with a pen in his hand.

“You know what Krishna, I was planning to leave you alone once I had defeated you, but no! You had to go and piss me off. So, you will die. I had high hopes for you, but it seems the nurture was stronger with you. People like you are not even worth enough to us, the Kings and Princes of this celebrated land, to sully our hands with your blood. I have another boy in my army, just like you. Ekalavya or something, he is called. Some nishada. An excellent shot despite that little impediment of his birth. I’ll have him finish you off. But not now,” Jarasandha had smirked, “It wouldn’t be much fun if we did it now. So, go! Get out! Heal up, and come back. You’ll be killed then, and your kingdom burned to the ground. Guards!”

Krishna had stood up, “Fine then. Release my man, and I’ll be out of your hair.”

Jarasandha had raised an eyebrow, “What part of this interaction indicated that this is a negotiation?”

“By our agreement, you cannot keep prisoners during war.”

“You hold more prisoners than me, Krishna. You don’t see me making a fuss.”

“I’ll release them as soon as I return. Release my man.” Krishna had insisted.

Jarasandha had nodded. He had been favourable, even if terrifyingly so, at that moment. He had sighed, “For what it’s worth I wasn’t lying about your family. If you heed my advice, stop shielding them from me. After all, ulterior motives aside, I come bearing only the consequence of their actions.”

“Yeah, that’s why you offered to spare them if they handed my brother and me over to you,” Krishna had smirked back.

“In my defence, you weren’t supposed to know about that. May Mahadeva pardon me,” Jarasandha had said, “But you do remind me of my second son, Jayatsena. You both have the same youthful misguidance and that pesky little thing called morals. I’ll be waiting to see how long that lasts.” He had smirked, “Anyway, tell the guard on your way out, he’ll bring your man around.”

Krishna had walked back in from the doorframe, finally irked by Jarasandha’s haughty attitude, “Letting me go- this is the biggest mistake of your life, Jarasandha. One day your widowed wives shall curse the almighty for allowing you such lapse in judgement, I promise you that.”

Upon being released outside the campground, the soldier had immediately wrapped Krishna’s arms around his shoulder. Krishna too, as surprised as he had been, found himself slumping despite all efforts to remain standing. “H-how did you know?” He had asked the man.

The soldier had shaken his head, “Watched you all night. There’s no way you were staying upright any longer. Come on now, our camp’s a mile to the west. Considering your current speed and my imagined weightlifting trophies, we should get there in an hour or so.”

Krishna had grimaced, “Just find Rama, and take me to him.”

And so the soldier had done.

---

Immediately upon them entering Balarama’s tent, the prince had rushed to them immediately, clasping Krishna’s damp body to his chest.

“What happened to you?” Balarama had asked, himself sweating worriedly.

“M-my charioteer, Subahu, got killed and all of a sudden, then, an arrow-” Krishna had pointed to his chest, at the scar still glistening blood-red against his dark skin, “I didn’t think anyone other than me knew this trick. I was so worried that they got you too!” Krishna had extended an arm, pulling Balarama into a thankful embrace.

“It’s almost evening, Dau,” Krishna had sat up despite Balarama’s protests, his eyes squinted, his palms shaking. His voice almost a whisper, he had spoken, “How come none of you noticed I was gone? Forget the others, Dau, why didn’t you?”

Balarama had averted his eyes, hemming and hawing till Krishna’s eyes had found a glass, still half full, “Dau, please tell me you did not drink so much that you forgot about me?” Krishna had pressed on, his voice shaking with emotion, “You’re all I have, Dau! Tell me, you didn’t forget me!”

“I...am sorry, Kanha.”

“You are all I have,” Krishna had repeated, almost mechanically.

“You’re all I have too, Kanha,” Balarama had cried, “You know that I’d give my life for you, don’t you? Any day, any time, no questions asked! You know that, right? I’m just so...scared. All the time.”

He had cupped Krishna’s face, running his fingers through his hair.

“It’s me or...that, then.” Krishna had replied in a steely voice.

“You,” Balarama had replied, no hesitation in his voice, “Always, you.”

He shook his head, “You don’t believe me? See!” Balarama had picked up the half-empty glass of wine and emptied it over his carpet.

“See!” He had picked up the large pitcher and began pouring that as well over the floor, a thin stream of wine happily skipping out of the tent gate.

“Please stop,” Krishna had whispered.

“No, I’ll dispose of everything, right now! I will never let you down again!”

“No!” Krishna had shouted finally, “I am running on some really disgusting payasam, I will throw up. Please stop.”

Balarama had finally collapsed into a chair, looking more defeated than anything else. “I am so sorry,” he whispered, “I should have checked in on you. I am the oldest. You were my responsibility, and I failed you so utterly.”

Krishna had shaken his head, holding his sides with a hand, “No, you didn’t. We are in this together. I too should have taken better care of you. I let it...get this far. At least half of this is on me. What’s more important is that we must leave. Now! Guard! Get Satyaka’s kid here, urgently!”

As soon as Satyaki had entered, Krishna had stood up, although on shaky feet. Steadying himself with his blood-soaked arms placed squarely on Satyaki’s shoulder, even before the boy had had time to process what he saw, Krishna had whispered, “You once told me you will do whatever I tell you to, no questions asked. Do you still abide?”

Satyaki had nodded. Krishna had spoken, “Gather all the aahira, gopa and naga people. Escort them, respectfully, into the citadel, and find them someplace to live. Use our palace if need be. I wish for you to tend to them personally.”

“Sure brother, but will the ministers allow it? You know these people are not permitted to enter past the city gates!”

Krishna had taken a long breath, “If anyone has anything to say, meet them at the city centre, with a sword. Can you do that?”

Satyaki had nodded enthusiastically as he had run out.

“Leave...where?” Balarama had asked after a while.

“Just somewhere that is not...here. I’ll have the eagle-flagged chariot prepared. We’ll take the Arab horses.”

“Do you want to get caught? Why don’t we take something unmarked? Or better, let’s take a bull-cart!”

“No. Jarasandha wants to play hide-and-seek. His onslaughts upon the city are going to keep on coming. Rations are at an all-time low, and so is morale. We cannot keep doing this forever. To be honest, Dau, I misjudged the situation today. In doing so, I made an error that put a lot of people’s lives in danger. I must correct that, at any cost. Jarasandha’s got us cornered, no way out. So, let’s play his game. He wants Krishna, I’ll give him Krishna...well, almost.”

“As you wish,” Balarama had nodded, although he didn’t look very convinced.

---

Satyaki had returned, just as Krishna and Balarama had reached the clearing where the grand chariot had been parked. Its curves and grooves had sparkled proudly in the clear moonlight.

“I got ‘em all, brothers! Except just a few.”

“Who’d you leave out?” Krishna had asked, surprised, squinting his eyes to count the number of enemy tents lit up by torches in the distance.

“This is tricky. Um, they are your father, mother, friends...the entire Gokula village. Also, one, um, some, specific people from Barsana. They bade you luck, and promised that they will watch your back.”

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.” Krishna had exclaimed.

Satyaki had hesitated, “I said that already...albeit in softer terms.”

Krishna had slumped against the chariot, “They cannot be doing this to me right now!”

“Let me convince them,” Balarama had spoken up, having contemplated silently until then, “It’s the least I can do. Krishna, you proceed. Satyaki, you return to the city, and lock it down. I’ll catch up when I can. No, Krishna, do not stop me. It’s been long since I’ve seen them anyway.”

“Fine,” Krishna had said, his voice betraying his worries nevertheless, “One last problem then. My charioteer was killed in the battle yesterday- may God rest his soul. Currently, Rama insists on going to Vrindavana, and I am in no state to drive-”

“Your graces,” The soldier had spoken up suddenly, startling all three.

“You haven’t returned to the barracks yet?” Balarama had asked incredulously. Then he had extended his gold necklace towards the soldier, after a moment’s contemplation, “Ah, I forgot to pay. Please do not mind this delay in expressing my gratitude from the deepest corner of my heart, I got overwhelmed.”

“It’s not a reward I seek, Sir. I am salaried.” The soldier had smiled slightly.

“Then?” Krishna had asked.

“A soldier doesn’t leave his post unless dismissed, Sir.”

“Oh,” Krishna had laughed sincerely, for the first time since the previous night, “Well. Well, you’re just great, no? Um, what’s your name? Pardon me, I forgot to ask in all this mess!”

“It’s Daruka, sir.” The soldier had replied proudly, with a short bow.

“Well then, Daruka,” Krishna had grinned, “How would you like a useless promotion?”

---

“Hey Krishna! Look, there he is!” Satyaki exclaimed, breaking Krishna free from his chain of thought. Balarama was fast asleep, glass in hand, even as he cradled a half-empty pitcher in the other arm. Daruka too stood there, with a helpless expression on his face.

Krishna gently ran his fingers through his brother’s hair, whispering to him.

“Just go away already,” Balarama complained in a muffled voice, without ever opening his eyes.

Satyaki and Daruka exchanged a look. However, neither of them dared utter a word, having both observed Krishna’s shoulders tightening.

Slowly, Krishna turned, his eyes red.

“I am done.” He whispered, his voice shaking, “You two get him home, or not...whatever. I have work.”

Chapter 14: Three

Back from the tavern, Krishna had stormed into his study, slamming the wooden door behind him. Slumping into his chair, he had pored over the pending paperwork. Flicking his quill as furiously as he swung his sword on the battlefield, Krishna worked through every single request that had dared ever clutter his desk. They must have taken Rama home, right?

Krishna couldn’t allow himself the luxury of anxiety. Or anger. One by one, papers flew under his pen, shuffling noisily from one stack to another, smudged in his frustration.

In some time, when the stack of pending requests had grown thin, anklets rang behind him. In his haste to cut himself off from the outside world, Krishna had forgotten to lock the door that led to the inner chambers. Krishna took a deep breath, steeling himself, as he felt a pair of cool palms wrapping around his burning eyes.

Krishna smiled briefly. He’d know those rosy fingers pressing down on his cheeks anywhere!

---

Subhadra had been born the very moment when a furious bolt of lightning had struck the rising moon, at the juncture of day and night, all those years ago. Exactly a day after Krishna’s eighteenth birthday. Krishna had spent that birthday as well as the following day on the battlefield.

The fulmination from the thunderous spectacle had given the brothers a moment’s advantage, culminating in their first real victory in battle. She had come early, precisely, as though a herald had come to warn their enemies. Krishna and Balarama had watched with glee as the enemy troops had retreated, tripping over each other in the process. They had stood soaking in the amber rays of dusk that had unexpectedly rained down upon them by gently parting the gloomy clouds, revelling in the petrichor.

Soon after that she had been born, and the royal astrologers had assigned the glory of that Yadava victory to the baby princess. This had annoyed Rama to no end, who upon trying to confront the fortune-tellers, having been handed the baby to hold, had immediately melted. Krishna at that time, had sunk to the floor laughing, taunting Rama, before proclaiming that he’d even cut the heart out of his chest, if the princess so commanded.

That had been a good day.

Since that very day, little Subhadra had become the apple of the brothers’ eyes. Obviously, they had had other siblings in due course of time, but even a naïve explorer bumbling into Mathura would realize by casting a mere glance, who was the most adored out of them all.

Even the common soldiers crowded near her residence before battle. A belief had taken root that even a fleeting glimpse of her radiant face would grant warriors protection in battle.

Over the years, this faith in her had grown in leaps and bounds. So much, that the brothers, despite their uneasiness with this near-deification, were forced to take her around the city on open cars once a year. Thankfully, she thoroughly enjoyed the attention.

The passing years had graced the princess with Rama’s beauty and Krishna’s enigma. With age, her temperament had grown to resemble the very ocean her city overlooked. Just like the impatient waves that crashed incessantly on the rocky beaches, she too was restless. Yet, like the same ocean at its depths, the princess was immovable in her stances.

With time, the brothers’ love for Subhadra had also grown. Even a freshly appointed guard would immediately be cautioned so as to never stop her at any gate, lest prince Rama’s wrath be directed their way. It had become common knowledge that causing the princess even a mild inconvenience would be unforgivable even for the usually merciful prince Krishna.

Krishna and Subhadra both possessed the uncanny ability to peer into the soul of a person to scoop out even their most coveted secrets from the deepest corner of their hearts. Trouble arose whenever they attempted to cast the spell on each other. Rumours ruled the palace that in escalating bids to outsmart each other, the prince and princess often spent hours debating even the most mundane questions in life, often reaching conclusions wildly unrelated to their initial points of disagreements.

---

“Bhadra,” Krishna forced a smile, as he wrapped her hands around his neck, pulling her close, “I do not understand whether you are growing up or down. You are old enough to be married, you know?” He laughed, making Subhadra push him playfully.

“So, what do you want?” Krishna asked, shaking his head.

“Can’t a sister come to simply check on her brother when he’s so hard at work?” Subhadra pulled a face, settling down on the table in front of her brother.

“And... did you come just to check?” Krishna peered into his sister’s eyes, smirking.

“I promised my friends that I’ll take them out on a picnic to the Raivataka forests,” she admitted hesitantly.

“That’s okay. I doubt organizing it is the challenge that you face!” Krishna retorted, as he resumed reading the latest report on his desk.

Subhadra shifted closer to him conspiratorially, “Rama wouldn’t like it if we went. He doesn’t approve of us venturing any further past than the temple. Would you talk to him? He never says no to you!”

Krishna’s jaw tightened, “If Rama doesn’t like it, maybe you should respect his wish, Bhadra. There’s nothing I can do there.”

“Please, brother!” She wrapped her arms around him, “I already promised my friends. I will be humiliated if I cannot make it happen now.”

Krishna sighed, “Then you should take it as a lesson in not making promises you can’t keep.”

“Why are you being so difficult today?!” Subhadra pouted, “You know I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t absolutely need it!”

“Sure, I’m the difficult one!” Krishna huffed sarcastically.

Subhadra placed a hand on his shoulder, worried, “Did something happen?” She asked dejectedly.

Krishna shook his head resignedly. He loathed it when his conflicts spilled over to the princess, “What happened is not your burden to carry. Let me see what I can do about your picnic.”

Krishna sighed once more as Subhadra wrapped him in a tight hug, planting a kiss on his cheek.

“So,” Subhadra asked, having settled her issue, “What’s that?” She reached out from behind him and picked up the stack of letters left on the desk by Satyaki.

“They’re letters from uncle Akroora. He tells me about our Auntie Kunti and her sons.”

“Is that why the letters begin with ‘Dear Satyaki’?” She raised an eyebrow, as she continued reading excitedly.

“It’s complex, and in any case, none of your business.” Krishna gave her a defiant look as he snatched the stack back from his sister’s hands.

It was however too late, as Subhadra had already skimmed through a part of the first page, “Where’s this Varanavat? Uncle says that we must visit it when we go there!”

Krishna shook a finger in her face, “We are not going anywhere!”

“Fine then, I will go by myself. Maybe I’ll even steal your chariot!” Subhadra taunted.

“You wouldn’t dare!” Krishna retorted, “Besides, uncle Akroora rambles too much. I wouldn’t put much thought into it,” He stroked his chin absentmindedly, continuing, speaking almost to himself, “This Varanavat does keep cropping up an awful lot! But why?”

“See, I helped!” Subhadra piped up, now leaning over Krishna’s shoulder to read more, “Who is Arjuna?”

Krishna immediately pressed the stack of letters to his chest, smiling up at his sister, “Why would you need to know?”

Subhadra shrugged, embarrassed at having been found out by the very person she was hoping to trick. She blurted out a few rushed excuses as she hoped that Krishna would take her questions as situational curiosity rather than the determined espionage mission she had embarked upon, having hovered discreetly on the edge of his desk for weeks.

Krishna shook his head as he flipped to the next page.

“You are good at hiding it, I’ll give you that! Just not good enough to fool me.” He chuckled.

Subhadra huffed back defensively, “Like brother like sister, I guess.”

Krishna laughed as he set the papers down on the desk, and pulled his sister close, “Now, whatever does that mean?” He asked incredulously.

“Like that secret you’ve been keeping? From nearly everybody here. I wouldn’t have known if not for that trip to Vrindavan.”

Krishna’s voice shook, as he tried to laugh it off, “I have no secrets sister. Now, get lost!”

“I met her, you know?” Subhadra continued undeterred, “Back in Vrindavan.”

Krishna’s demeanour changed at the mere mention. He pursed his lips as he pushed his chair back. “And you didn’t think it was important to tell me?” He whispered, “You had no right to keep this from me.”

“I wanted to tell you, but you were busy. You seemed hurt enough today. What better time to rip off the band-aid?” Subhadra continued without skipping a beat, “You know, I understand. I saw what you saw in her. She’s remarkable! It’s only right that you’re pining away in secret, after all this while too! I just wish you could’ve told me.”

Krishna searched uneasily for a light-hearted quip, but his mind had already wandered away.

---

Far away, to that fateful dawn, when Akroora had revealed the truth of his birth to Yashoda. Of course he had known way before that. Nanda had made sure of it.

He had been prepared to face the world. To fight and make his case until the end of time in order to snatch his and Rama’s birthright away from those who had deprived them of it so long. He had readied himself to fight to everyone in the world for a mere chance at justice. A hundred explanations had swirled in his mind for years, dancing just at the tip of his tongue. Only, there was nothing prepared for Yashoda.

Before her, he had stood speechless, wringing his hands as his toenails had uselessly scratched the hard ground beneath, breaking and bleeding. Even as he had stood head-to-head with his mother, he had felt not unlike the little boy he had been fifteen years prior, that had cowered, trying to hide behind a pillar, as Yashoda had raged on about some minor transgression.

He had therefore stood silently, shaking his head side to side, as Yashoda had desperately shaken him by the shoulders demanding answers. Eventually she had stopped asking, and had sunken to the floor, sobbing listlessly.

As he had stumbled out of the room, leaving Yashoda in a heap on the floor, Krishna had found Akroora and his father tucked away in a secluded corner whispering to each other.

“You have had seventeen years to tell her!” Akroora had hissed, “I am under orders to drag the boys to Mathura in chains if need be. You and your wife too! I am doing you a favour just by standing right here, negotiating with a woman, of your kind no less!”

Krishna had watched in horror from behind a pillar as his usually proud father had stood listening, with his head bowed. In any other circumstance, Nanda would have never tolerated such words, towards anyone. Not even from a superior minister such as Akroora. However, like himself and his brother on that wretched day, even Nanda had stood tongue-tied.

Akroora had continued, “See, I know the boys are strong, but they are not strong enough. Not against an entire army! Kamsa will burn this village to the ground if you do not comply, and there is absolutely nothing I can do about that right now! I don’t know what you’ve got to do with this mess, but fix it.”

Krishna had not been able to make himself listen any further. He had blindly bumbled out of their house, running. He had only stopped running once he had reached his favourite secluded corner in middle of the dense forest of Vrindavan. Dropping to his knees, he had sobbed into her arms.

She had known. Both of them had already known it in the depths of their hearts from the very moment Nanda had burst into their grove, at twilight before dawn on that full moon night, startling the lovers. It had been as though the sun had suddenly risen from the west, for Nanda to have crossed all limits of decorum like that, and there could have been just one reason for that.

It had been the last thing that either of them had expected, especially after a long night of merrymaking alongside the other men and women of their tribe on the long-awaited autumn’s full-moon night.

Krishna had started the dance escorting the oldest grandfather of the village, leading him to the centre of the circles formed around the crackling fire tended to by the villagers, nodding charmingly at the jokes thrown his way.

Only, Krishna had felt something go wrong in the darkest corner of his heart even as he had danced along to the maddening beats of the village drums, peering into the delighted visage of his sweetheart from afar. A strange anxiety had taken him over, as in the corner of his eye he had spotted soldiers filter inward, their march masked by the loud drums.

Krishna had thought about that night a thousand times after it occurred, but he had never been able to rationalize his actions after he had spotted the army.

Pulling out the dancing sticks off Balarama’s waist in one fluid motion, Krishna had left marched up to Radha. Even as she had protested weakly, he had wrapped an arm around her, pulling her away from her husband. Staring into each other’s eyes, they had swirled away, absentmindedly striking the sticks to the beats of the drum, veering dangerously close to the bonfire, not even noticing the other dancers gasping and jumping out of their way.

Only after his uttariya had caught fire, he had fallen back, dabbing at the fire with his bare hands. Then, clasping Radha’s arm he had pulled her away from the circles. Disregarding the loud wave of gasps that he had drawn from the crowd, he had swept Radha off her feet. Holding her close in her arms, he had walked into the forest, with only the moon lighting the way forward.

Reaching their secret meeting place, he had dropped his giggling sweetheart onto the flower bed that was already made on the ground. His brain throbbing with the effects of the copious amount of maddhvi that they had all consumed, he had gently kissed her lips. His face still dangerously close to hers, he had whispered, “I did kind of blow our cover, didn’t I?”

Radha had nodded, pulling him closer, “Yes, and blew up my life in the process!”

“You saw those soldiers too?” He had asked, still breathing heavily.

“Why do you think I came so easy?” She had whispered back, “What do you say? One last hurrah? The night to end all nights?”

“All knights indeed!” Krishna had wrapped her in a tighter embrace as he had kissed her once more.

Krishna could never remember when he had fallen asleep, but he could never forget how he had woken up. The moon still shining brightly over the natural canopy of the enchanting grove, he had squinted up to find his father towering over him. Beside him, he had felt Radha clinging on to him, as if for dear life. Nanda had stood silently staring at the two until Krishna had extricated Radha’s arms from around him and sat up on the bed of flowers.

Without a single word, Nanda had then pulled Krishna up to his feet by his arm and dragged him out. Radha had run behind them with frantic questions up until the large flowery gate of the grove.

“I can’t do this,” Krishna had whispered into her ear in the morning when he had come stumbling in.

“Come on now,” Radha had smiled, with tears glistening in her eyes, “Wasn’t this a long time coming?”

“We will run away. No one has to know,” he had pleaded.

“You and I both know that’s not happening!”

“Why not? We’ll run to the other end of the world where no one will know who we are, and then we’ll be free! Maybe Magadh? Or Panchal? I will herd cattle like I do here, and you will get a job in one of those bow-and-arrow factories! We’ll be fine. We’ll be happy.” Krishna had said, his eyes shining.

Radha had laughed in spite of herself.

She had pulled Krishna close to her, “Thank you for the dream, Krishna. I will dream it often. Now, go! Your parents have suffered enough.”

“No, I mean it. Okay- parents. Fine! I’ll go kill Kamsa, and I’ll come running back. You be ready, okay? We’ll run away in the dead of night! Everyone will be busy celebrating, no one will even notice we’re gone!”

Radha had sighed, “We’ve both lived long enough to know that’s nonsense. Don’t give me that false hope. Don’t give yourself that false hope. A royal life is like getting stuck in the eye of a cyclone. No one gets out. Not even you!”

Krishna had frantically shaken his head.

“You’re heartless, you know that?” He had exclaimed, shaking a desperate finger in her face.

“One of us has to be.” She had smiled sadly.

She had stood up, pulling Krishna up to his feet, turning him the other way. Away from her.

“I can’t live without you, you know that!” Krishna had pleaded again, holding his arm to his chest, pressing his eyes shut as a phantom pain had taken hold.

Radha had wrapped her arms around him, planting a gentle kiss on his back.

“Well, you’re the man that laughs in the face of the impossible. Make it happen.” She had jostled him, as Krishna had stood glaring at the ground, his fists curled in emotion.

“I can’t do this.” He had repeated.

Radha had stroked his back, while gently nudging him forward. She had whispered, “Sure you can. Just start walking. Don’t look back. Never. Can you do that for me, my love? My beautiful Kanha? Do it for me, won’t you?”

“What about you?” Krishna had whispered, standing still in his spot, staring blankly at the beautiful canopy of vines that led out of their secret haven.

“I’ll wait.” Radha had laid her head on his back.

“But I won’t come back.”

“I’ll still wait.” She had smiled weakly, “Now, go! Be happy.” She had pushed him one last time.

And so, Krishna had walked. Through the flowery gate, tears tumbling down, even as he had heard her hit the ground behind him, her sobs only barely audible.

He had walked straight into the arms of Balarama, who had been patiently waiting outside. Rama had seized his hand immediately, wrapping him in a warm embrace.

Krishna remembered hardly anything else of that day after that, except for Balarama’s gentle voice ringing in his ear as he had walked, barely aware of his surroundings, “Just one foot in front of the other. Yeah? Come on, I’ve got you!”

---

He hadn’t ever been able to bring himself to share his side of his life with Subhadra, even though he had already known that she would understand. If anyone could understand it at all, it would be her.

Subhadra whispered as she wrapped her arms around him once more, “First loves really don’t die, I guess. I know you’re strong, but you don’t have to be this strong. Not with me!” She gently ran her fingers through his hair.

“How did we change so much, Bhadra?” Krishna exhaled, forcing his mind to move on, “You know, Rama and me? I wasn’t the strong one, believe me, I really wasn’t!”

“Well, one of you had to be!” Subhadra smiled kindly.

“Funny you should say that,” Krishna laughed at the irony. Subhadra really did seem to be able to read his mind at times!

Krishna continued with a sigh, “You know, Dau really got me through a lot. I was breaking apart, the first few months in Mathura! I really don’t know what I would’ve done if it weren’t for him shielding me all that time! And now? Now it hurts seeing him like that!”

“You know,” Subhadra enclosed his palms in hers, “Maybe it’s time you returned the favour. Hold his hand and wrestle him out of this one! You know, no one else can! You two are after all the two idiots cut from the same cloth!” She chuckled.

Subhadra spoke with a wide grin against just as Krishna opened his mouth to protest, “Don’t knock me, I’m the same idiot too!”

“That you are,” Krishna conceded, shaking his head with a teary smile, “And here I thought you came just to spy on me!”

“A girl can do two things!” Subhadra winked as she bounced away, leaving Krishna laughing fondly to himself, as he let the cold tears that he had held back with all his might, finally fall across his cheeks.

Chapter 15: Angry Young Swan Song

Krishna smiled brightly up at his sister-in-law, who seemed more annoyed than elated as she held the heavy, wooden door open for him.

---

Balarama’s marital home, at his wife’s request, had been constructed along a less-frequented beach outside the city. It was no secret that while she was a gracious host most of the time, Revati in fact did not prefer to have guests in her home.

The house itself was a rather quaint little thing that boasted of few ornamentations, albeit replete with large open spaces.

Both Rama and Revati being great patrons of music, never ceased to amaze Krishna at how carefully their house was decorated.

Upon the walls of each room, hung a litany of musical instruments, some of them exotic, some of them local. Only a select few of their acquaintances knew that Balarama, the fierce warrior, could actually play decent melodies on every single one of them.

The roofs, in stark contrast to the simple exterior of the house, was decorated intricately with frescoes depicting Revati’s childhood. She liked to be able to look up at them whenever she missed her family.

---

“You forgot to send a messenger ahead, Krishna. I would have loved to have you over for dinner today.” Revati grimaced as she showed him to the living room of the mansion. Krishna mustered up his most charming smile as he followed her.

Evidences of a recent revelry were strewn across the long, bare halls. Krishna drew a sharp breath as a strong smell of sweat and alcohol hit his nostrils as they walked into the house’s coup-de-grace- the dance hall.

Somehow, the odour had persevered in the air despite the magnificent hall opening into a spectacular hanging garden overlooking the ocean. Flower broken from intricate buns, mislaid ghungroo bells and desolate glasses lay strewn about.

“Like I said, dinner would’ve been prettier. Drink?” Revati sighed, holding out a glass at Krishna.

“It’s noon.” Krishna gave her a melancholic smile as he shook his head, “What are you two doing, Reva?”

“Entertaining you when I really don’t want to.” Revati retorted.

Krishna chuckled in spite of himself. His beloved sister-in-law had always had a sharp tongue, and he was one of the few with whom she shared her complete, honest self.

“Come on now,” He whispered, as he wildly waved his hand at the room, “You surely can’t believe all of this is good!”

“I am sick of fighting it, Krishna. I lost my father, then you took my kingdom. I do not wish to lose my husband too.”

Krishna raised an eyebrow, “Don’t you dare blame me for that, Reva. I offered your kingdom back, complete with the city that I built, the very moment that I found you two! It was your father who refused. Even after that, I offered for you to be our new queen, and that offer, sister, you refused. You will not play the victim with me, not now.” Krishna replied sharply as he moved closer to look her in the eye, “And as for your husband, you will end up losing him anyway, if this keeps up for long.”

“I’m sorry.” Revati whispered.

“No, you’re not.” Krishna smiled starchily.

“No, I’m not.” Revati smiled, “But believe me, on this issue of your brother, I tried my best.” Her voice shook slightly as she continued, “If alcohol makes him forget about the unkind hand that destiny has dealt him, why not let him have that? Krishna, it would take great cruelty to pull him back to reality, and I will no longer be this butcher of his dreams. I do not like seeing him like this any more than you do, but I am making the best of what I have.”

Krishna had barely opened his mouth to reply, when they both turned to see Balarama stumble into the room.

Krishna forced himself to smile as brightly as he could at his brother.

Ignoring him, Balarama went up to Revati, embracing her, his eyes swimming in love. In spite of his initial annoyance, Krishna smiled fondly to himself as he watched Balarama raise himself on his tiptoes to land a kiss on his wife’s cheek.

He kissed her again, as she handed him a glass of wine with a charming smile, “Kadambari, your favourite.”

“That’s my love,” Rama cooed back.

Only after what it seemed to Krishna like an eternity did Balarama notice him standing beside them, grinning awkwardly.

“What’s he doing here?” Balarama slurred to Revati.

“Nothing important,” Revati smiled as she reached out and pinched Krishna’s cheek, “Just paying a visit to his older brother, that’s all.”

“I’m not a child, Reva.” Krishna complained as he swatted her hand away, albeit with an indulgent smile.

“Sure, you aren’t!” Revati giggled, “Drink up, little one.” She laughed, handing Krishna another glass of wine, as she glided out of the room leaving the brothers alone.

“Cheers,” Balarama grinned, as he clinked his glass against Krishna’s, even as the latter stared disbelievingly at his sister-in-law.

Krishna laughed incredulously as he stared at his brother for a second, before downing the liquor himself.

“God, has it been long!” Krishna exclaimed, as he felt the bitter liquid burn its way down his throat. They both laughed heartily, as Balarama patted his brother on the back.

Krishna shook his head, improvising, “You know, what I came to talk to you about. I am thinking of trying something. New year, new me.”

Balarama stroked his chin, “Is it new year already? Last I checked it was still winter.”

“No, it’s just a foreign saying,” Krishna laughed, “But I am planning to change myself. Why should you have all the fun? I am sick of being the spoilsport. This is me waving the white flag.” Krishna waved his glass, letting some wine spill out of it onto his hand, “From now on, get this! I will do…whatever I want.” He finished with a flourish in Balarama’s face.

“You got drunk off of one glass?” Balarama asked hesitantly.

“I am not drunk, Rama!” Krishna exclaimed, “This is actually me that’s talking!”

“Ah, and when did you reach this conclusion?”

“Just now!” Krishna smiled, “Reva truly inspired me with her words just now.” Krishna nodded seriously.

Balarama snorted, “Right! So, when does this new Krishna reveal himself to us mere mortals?”

“Right now! Come on, I’ve been putting off something important for far too long and I need your help.”

“What, now?” Balarama questioned exasperatedly as Krishna started to push him towards the front door.

“Where are we going?” He asked again.

“Seriously Dau, stop resisting now. I don’t care how strong you are, I am still capable of throwing you over my shoulder and carrying you there myself.” Krishna’s eye twinkled as he continued walking.

Balarama laughed at his brother, “That’s hardly necessary Kanha, but where?”

---

“Here, do you remember him?” Krishna enthusiastically threw the tall gates to his study open, as Balarama hung slightly back, peering over his brother’s shoulder.

“I will try to recollect, Kanha, as soon as you move off of the tip of my nose, you giant tree! Now scoot!” Balarama complained, as he jokingly pushed his brother out of the way.

Balarama walked into the room to find a tailor. He immediately smiled widely as he pulled the man into an embrace, “You fitted our first royal clothes for us, right? Right after this one killed that washerman back in Mathura?”

The tailor nodded devotedly, “You both have grown so big since I last saw you. I see you still have that peacock feather on your head! I never understood that. And you, impeccable fashion sense. Like always!”

“See, that’s why I dragged him out here!” Krishna nodded conspiratorially at the tailor.

“What are you up to, Krishna?” Balarama asked sceptically.

“I finally decided to send that letter to Auntie Kunti, inviting her to the spring festival! Along with that, I want to send some unique gifts. They should know that we are serious about having her here! Given he is the best tailor that I know, and you have the best taste, who better to help me with this, right?!” Krishna exclaimed as he put his arms around both his brother and the tailor, “I am going for a grand yet grounded approach, you follow?”

Balarama grinned as he ran his hand through the variety of colours and fabrics that were strewn atop Krishna’s desk, “You mean our cousins that you’ve been stalking for the past one year?”

“Ten months, and it’s not stalking.”

“Ah, I get it. So, a hundred spies and Uncle Akroora have been circling them unceasingly just to find out which colour of silk looks the best on them? Kanha, you do realize that all of your expense reports usually pass through my desk?”

“To be fair, I didn’t think you read those,” Krishna sucked air through his teeth.

Balarama snorted again as Krishna gave him a charming look, “Kanha, I swear I’ll smack you. But seriously, what are you after?”

“Nothing!” Krishna said defensively, “I was just curious. Also, I did find out their favourite colours. They’re gold, fuchsia, white, purple and teal. I just need you to finalize the threading on all of the uttariyas and then Uncle Tailor can get started, and then-”

Balarama placed a hand on Krishna’s shoulder to stop his monologue, “But are you sure they are worth the effort?”

Krishna nodded, “They’re the only cousins we haven’t met in person yet! Not a single reunion have they attended, nor any festivals or marriages or funerals. I just want to see what their problem is! And don’t forget we promised Father that we’d bring Auntie Kunti home!”

Balarama laughed, “First, Krishna, you promised, not we. Second, this Kaurava business is much more complicated than you know! It will be in our best interest not to get involved with them at all if we can help it.”

Krishna sat down across from his brother, “I don’t see it like that, Rama. They are being kept from their destiny and birthright by a bitter, blind, old man. We owe it to our aunt to help them out.”

Balarama shook his head, “That is their problem to figure out! Also, the birthright? It is not so black-and-white. There are several legal nuances to be considered.”

“It sure was pretty black-and-white when it was our birthright that was on the line Dau!” Krishna looked up with a rueful smile, “I don’t remember you complaining that our situation with Kamsa was nuanced.”

Balarama smashed his fist down on the table, “It was different!” He did not enjoy remembering the days following the death of their uncle.

Krishna continued coolly, “Really? How?”

“It just was! For starters my- our father was rotting in a prison!” Balarama took a deep breath to calm himself, “Listen, I only want what’s best for you, and the best for you right now is to leave this alone, is that understood?”

“Careful Rama,” Krishna smirked quietly even as anger crossed his eye, “You are beginning to sound quite like our dear cousin Shishupala there.”

Balarama sighed, “Krishna, I do not wish to fight with you. We’re both grown-ups here. If you want to do this, go ahead. All I would say is, leave me out of this.”

“Gladly!” Krishna smarted as he pointed at the now confounded tailor quivering slightly with his back to the wall, “As soon as you confirm the designs.”

“Fine,” Balarama huffed, “What do you have on them?” He never could deny his little brother. Not all the way.

Krishna smiled as he immediately retrieved a fat stack of papers and thumped it down in front of his brother.

Balarama sighed loudly as he started flicking through the pages, “For the record Kanha, I still think this is creepy.”

“You’re creepy!” Krishna retorted, pouting, making Balarama laugh out loud.

He sniggered on as he began to compare patterns laid out on the desk. Rama’s anger always melted as fast as it came upon, “Seriously? They call you the master of words and the beloved of Saraswati, and that’s the best you could come up with?”

Chapter 16: Old Mistletoe

Satyabhama stood contemplatively, leaning on the rails of the balcony in her old room, basking in the autumn sun, as she delicately ran her fingers through her cascading tresses, gently wringing them dry.

Her father had brought her up on many luxuries over the years. As a consequence, from a young age, she had become accustomed to the services of the countless servants who, in accordance with her father’s orders, hung on to her every word, ready to fulfil any desire she might develop, be it day or night.

Her marriage to Krishna, while delighting her, had thrust Satyabhama without any warning, into a simpler world that she had not lived in for a very long time. Now, whenever she returned to her father’s home, she was invariably bombarded with the incessant onslaught of exaggerated care, fuelled further by her mother’s bemoaning.

Before her marriage, in her mind, Satyabhama had sketched, in her mind, a beautiful picture of their life together, even as she had impatiently waited for Krishna to wrap up the post-marriage rituals for his marriage to Jambavati.

She had already been warned around Krishna’s near-mythical frugality, by most of the women in her family, but that hadn’t curbed her dreams. Raja-gopala, she had whispered to herself, again and again, relishing the syllables as she had breathed in and out in an attempt to calm her racing mind. Her dreams had only blossomed to meld the vibrance of the wild, grassy landscapes of Vrindavan with the unbounded opulence of Dwarika.

Then had come the first night they had spent together, in Satrajit’s mansion upon his request.

The next morning, even before the rising sun, she had awoken in the empty bed to find Krishna outside. To be specific, she had found him sitting, engrossed in deep meditation, on the ledge past the marble rails across the balcony attached to her bedroom. If she weren’t lying to herself, she would have realized how moved she had been, simply gazing upon him, holy water still dripping from his luscious locks, cascading over his dark form.

At that moment however, swallowing a scream that had crept up her throat, Satyabhama had knelt on the other side, gingerly extracting his uttariya. She had then delicately run her fingers to tie his arm to one of the bars along the balcony. Then, she had propped herself up against the rails to his right, and drifted back to sleep.

She had woken up again only once the sun had risen into a bright morning. Pulling on her arm she had realized with a jolt of panic that Krishna had used the other end of his uttariya to tie her arm to the same rail.

She had looked up with a flushed face, to find Krishna still sitting cross-legged on the ledge, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. He had, also, not unbound his own arm.

She had pulled on the knot to realize that it was tied much tighter than what she could reasonably open. She had looked pleadingly at Krishna, who had been silently shaking with laughter.

“Say, Satyaa, wasn’t your father going to check in on us this morning?” Krishna had teased her tantalizingly.

“Krishna!” She had pleaded, “I was just looking out for you. You might have fallen down while trying to get back in!”

“And then you went to sleep, with no regards of what your father might think if he saw me tied to this side of the railing?” He had taunted, albeit with a smile on his face.

After a few more sweet nothings, Krishna had finally relented, and they had bumbled back into her room arm-in-arm.

Once she had moved into Krishna’s residence after a few weeks, she had been surprised at the emptiness of the halls. Interrogating the servants she had found out that Krishna usually only used four rooms in his mansion, and that only the previous week he had designated another room to be prepared for her.

Krishna had laughed kindly when she had approached him cautiously about the same, “This is not emptiness, this is simply easier. Give it a few days, and you’ll see it too!”

He had however given her free reins to decorate her own quarters as she saw fit. Hence, much to the chagrin of her mother, after stationing some of her father’s gifted pieces of furniture haphazardly around the room, she had immediately filled up the remaining space with a variety of plants. She had always had a green thumb.

Soon, she had found that Krishna maintained simplicity in all aspects of his life, including the size of his personal staff. It had, however, taken some time for her to realize that Krishna expected the same of his wives.

With the passage of years, however, Satyabhama had come to appreciate the value of these measures. Her relationships with her co-wives had blossomed beautifully in the absence of a caravan of helpers to keep them apart, and they fared in each other’s company much better than any other household that she knew of.

Now, that she was back to living with her parents again, she found herself sorely missing the little family that the four of them had built together. However, she had had little choice in the matter once her father had heard of her pregnancy.

After their marriage, Krishna had developed a persistent habit of dodging his father-in-law’s attempts to take him home, much to the annoyance of the latter. Hence, Satrajit had burst into their house within an hour of receiving the news, and dragged her off conspiratorially. “Let me see, how he avoids me now!” He had announced, grinning at his own ingenious plan.

“You are not to return unless he himself comes to fetch you, is that understood?” He had announced again and again, making Satyabhama break into silent bouts of laughter each time that he spoke of it.

For once, even Satyabhama’s mother had agreed with her husband, “He doesn’t even have sufficient help for my poor daughter!” She had exclaimed, “Let him come! I wish to know what exactly he spends all his money on, if not his wives!”

But months had passed, and Krishna still hadn’t found his way into Satrajit’s dining hall.

One day after a few months, Satrajit had fruitlessly cornered his daughter, “Does he not love you, or what? Have I not been clear enough with my intentions here?” Satyabhama had shrugged noncommittally at her father before disappearing back into her room as fast as she could.

Unbeknownst to Satrajit however, on every other night, since the very night that he had brought her home, Krishna had stealthily climbed over that infamous ledge, and quietly slipped away before dawn.

“How much longer would you torment my father thus?” She had asked him one night, as she idly played with his curls.

“Would you rather I torment you?” He had grinned as he had turned over on her lap.

“All he asks for is one dinner! How hard is it?” She had complained as she had pushed him back around.

He had pulled her back into an embrace, “Given our history, Satyaa, can you really blame me?”

She had huffed and swatted his hand away, “I don’t know what fantasy you are reliving here, climbing into my bed in the dead of night like a thief, but I am getting tired of whatever you two have going on out there.”

Krishna had sighed, finally giving up on his attempt to distract her, “I like your father well enough. It’s just that bloody gem. It makes me uncomfortable, and your father wears it on his neck day and night! He is so protective of it that I can’t even bring myself to ask him to remove it. But honestly, if it is up to me, then for the rest of my life, Satyaa, I do not wish to touch it, see it or even hear about that damned syamantaka!”

---

“Bhama dear!”

Satyabhama turned around from the balcony to find her nurse beckoning at her.

“What were you doing over at the edge there?!” She asked, glaring at the princess, “Sit!”

Satyabhama plopped down on one of the velvet asanas in the balcony without protest. Secretly, even she was just a little afraid of the old nurse who her mother had invited to stay with them for the duration of her pregnancy.

“There’s a visitor for you. Some Shatadhanva. I shall send him back.”

Satyabhama had straightened up at the mention of the visitor. Maybe Krishna had finally set aside his reservations and come to officially call on her? However, she was happy enough to hear of the arrival of her childhood friend. He had left Dwarika right around the time of her marriage to Krishna.

She motioned towards the nurse, “Escort him in, please dai maa, I shall see him here.”

“In your room? Are you sure?”

“Yes!”

“Would your husband like it?”

Satyabhama mustered up the sweetest smile she could, “Let me worry about my husband, please?”

The nurse left sour-faced and returned with a handsome young man. He was extremely fair-skinned and still sported his travel clothes, complete with a sword still tacked at his waist.

Satyabhama jumped up, laughing, as she directed him to one of the other asanas opposite to hers.

For a few moments they sat in silence, as the nurse continued to bore a metaphorical hole in Satyabhama’s skull through her burning glare.

Then, Satyabhama turned back and for a brief minute they both stared at each other, waging a mental war, and finally the nurse stomped out of the room reluctantly, even as she muttered a litany of curses under her breath.

Satyabhama and Shatadhanva both broke into peals of laughter which died down once again into an awkward quiet.

Finally, Shatadhanva broke the silence.

“Congratulations!” He said, as he took out a small toy horse from his bag, and slid it over the table between them.

“Thank you.” Satyabhama replied with an indulgent smile, as she picked it up to inspect. Then they both slipped into silence again.

“So!” Shatadhanva slapped his knee, “Elephant in the room! I proposed, and you said no.”

“You did, and I did.” Satyabhama nodded cautiously, unsure of the direction this conversation was taking.

“Well, I just wished for you to know that it’s all okay. Water under the bridge! Also, I am completely over you!”

Satyabhama let out a sigh of relief, as she leaned over the table to hold his hand with a grin, “You’re one of my oldest friends, Shatadhanva, but not exactly my type.” 

“Clearly,” he nodded seriously, and after a moment, they both burst into laughter.

After almost an hour, Shatadhanva got up to leave. Satyabhama took his arm, and they made their way through the house.

“So, you are happy, right?” He asked as she nodded, “If not just let me know, I’ll fight him if need be!”

Satyabhama laughed as she patted his arm, “Not necessary, but thanks for offering!”

She then sighed contentedly, “I am truly the happiest I could be! Oh, I can’t wait till you two meet! How about next week? I’ll send Krishna a message right away!”

Shatadhanva shyly shook his head, and making his excuses, ran onto the narrow street leading onto Satrajit’s mansion.

Once he was out of there, he immediately let his shoulders sag and his pace slowed. After all, he had just spent the better part of the past hour lying through his teeth to his best friend.

Shaking his head, he droopily made his way over to his big brother’s house.

Chapter 17: Liquor and a Golden Brooch

Manmatha rolled around back and forth on the damp grass of the royal garden, laughing desperately, as he tried to escape Rukmavati, his wife, who sat at his head, pulling his long locks into what she deemed a fashionable hairdo.

“Hold still!” She pleaded, as her friends giggled, as they piled on Manmatha, pinning him down, allowing the princess to grab a handful of his hair and pin it with a gold brooch, locking it in a sphere peeking out from behind his ear.

“All the smart young men are doing it!” She reasoned even as Manmatha attempted to slip through her friends’ grips.

Jambavati came down the stairs of her quarters, a plate of offerings held steady in her hand. She shook her head and smiled indulgently as Manmatha pawed at her feet in a desperate attempt to free himself. She threw back her head as she laughed at the girls, who promptly launched a reinvigorated attack on the prince.

Krishna strolled contentedly towards his bedroom, a steady spring in his step, having written his long-delayed letter to his estranged cousins and left it to be sent, in the care of Satyaki, alongside the tailor and his machinery, and having drunk some more.

On the ledge leading up to his room, he found Jambavati, dressed in a dark silk, leaning on the frame, still holding the tray of offerings. Laughing, and already in a good mood, he rushed to hold her in an embrace, but to his surprise she stepped back, evading his arms, a soft smile playing on her lips.

Confused, but undeterred, Krishna advanced. Jambavati however seemed in no mood to be caught. She backed step-by-step, until her back was against the wall.

“You might want to take a look behind you, swami.” She whispered, smiling.

Krishna turned. Manmatha and the girls had all sat up, staring at them. Krishna blushed for a second, before charging at them with mock-anger causing them to all disperse in all directions like a group of ants whose cube of sugar he had just taken away.

“They have gotten way too audacious, especially those girls!” He complained, running a hand over his face, half-smiling at the absurdity. Shaking his head, he pulled Jambavati into his room, locking the door behind him.

Krishna shook his head, still laughing, as he took off the heavier of his jewellery.

“So, I was saying,” Jambavati sat down on the bed.

“It’s the end of the month, you know that!” Krishna said in a mocking tone, laughing at his own ingenuity at having found a bad joke.

“What has gotten into you today?” She sighed disapprovingly.

“Liquor,” Krishna added, trying to look more sober than he was.

“Anyway,” Jambavati rolled her eyes. “Sit,” she said seriously.

Krishna obliged, settling down awkwardly on a chair beside the bed, and pointed at her talk.

“You know I want children, right?” She asked. Krishna nodded long and hard.

“This doesn’t seem like a good time to discuss this,” Jambavati clucked disapprovingly, “In any case I can’t find you at home and alone most of the time, and when you are, you’re in this state!”

Krishna protested, “This is the first time I’ve touched that stuff in twenty years! Say what you have to, or let me go to sleep!”

“Fine!” She huffed, “I want a child, and I want you to perform the same tapasya you did for Vaidarbhi!”

Krishna stared at her for a long time in silence, letting the atmosphere in the room get heavier than a market during a siesta. Then, he spoke in a low voice, “You are not joking?”

Jambavati shook her head.

Krishna heaved a long sigh, “And I was in such a good mood too!” He smiled ruefully, “I can’t do that, Jambavati, you know that.”

“Why not?” She pressed.

“Well, for starters, look at what a fantastic job I did with the previous one!” Krishna stood up, sarcasm heavy in his voice, “How do I even face my Lord, begging him for another son, after what happened to the last one?!”

“It wasn’t your fault! We can try again; you can try again!” She exclaimed. Krishna still vehemently shook his head, bending even as he pictured the imagined guilt and embarrassment.

“Please! When have I ever asked you for anything?” She pleaded, “Let me have this, and I won’t ever ask you for anything!”

“Jambavati,” Krishna put an arm around her, almost leaning onto her for support, “What if it happens again? I don’t want my children to be targeted again because they are magical or anything. Why can’t we just try for a normal kid?”

“I have worshipped Lord Shiva all my life, Krishna. If it is possible to get his blessings directly, why shouldn’t I get it?”

Krishna shook his head as he repeated in a small voice, “What if it happens again, Jambavati?”

“I promise it won’t!” Jambavati shot up, “I will take so much better care of him!” Even as the words left her mouth, she shook her head, “I didn’t mean it like that! You know I love her! Please-” She turned, but Krishna was already on his way out.

“Fine,” He whispered, “If you want it, you shall have it.”

“Wait,” Jambavati cried as she ran to stop him, “I made you angry, didn’t I?”

Krishna sighed and shook his head, even as his fists curled white around his uttariya. Still, he forced himself to regularize his breaths and let Jambavati throw her arms around his neck.

“Then where are you off to in such a hurry?” She asked.

“To the mountains! To get a son for you!” He forced himself to smile.

“Right now?”                                               

“Why delay a good deed, princess? It was never my intention to deprive you of something you wished to have!”

“Fine, then I’m coming with you!” She allowed herself to smile a bit.

“That will not be necessary. You stay here and rest up,” Krishna smiled, “I will be back…when I’ll be back.”

Jambavati still pleaded, “You know, I loved the child though, don’t you? I still remember him! I just said something stupid!”

“Yes, I know,” Krishna sighed tiredly as he walked out of the room, leaving Jambavati in whirlpool of mixed emotions. She had gotten what she wanted, but at what cost?

---

Krishna scaled the harsh mountain, his feet pressing down up to his knees into the soft snow, his shoulders shivering despite the heavy, woollen coat. Still, he persevered, making his way through the treacherous domain, until he saw a prick of colour peeking out from the never-ending expanse of whiteness.

Even as little flakes of snow started falling on his shoulders, Krishna called out, “Upamanyu, rishi Upamanyu, is that you?”

A man in his mid-thirties came out of a near-invisible cave.

“I was told you’d moved to this side,” Krishna hissed through chattering teeth. He would have to get re-acclimatised to the weather in the high mountains.

“Again?” The sage shook his head, “Well, you know the drill, find a place somewhere and settle down, I’ll be with you shortly!”

Chapter 18: A Fire in the Mountain

Krishna settled down in front of the sage Upamanyu as a warm fire blazed on between them. They had already been in this Himalayan cave for a couple of weeks. Not many people had the courage to scale the dangerous mountain they were atop, and they themselves had almost been trapped while trying to flee a few avalanches.

The previous time that Krishna had approached Upamanyu for a blessed child, the routine had been much different. Then, Upamanyu had sat in the same position for days, leaving Krishna to either follow suit, find them rations or simply keep guard outside their humble lodgings. Then one day, Upamanyu had asked him to remain in meditation the entire day, and near the end of that, Krishna had heard a divine voice blessing him with his first child.

This time, the two met more as equals. Upamanyu was no more in the mood to guide him in every step, and Krishna no longer needed to follow Upamanyu's set routines and methods to sink into a deep meditative state. He could even do it walking if he so wished! Upamanyu too seemed no longer as eager to lose himself in meditation. Instead, he seemed more inclined to scale mountain after mountain, as if in a desperate bid to outrun all signs of humanity. Krishna didn't mind much. In any case, he was fond of this reclusive rishi that was only a little older than himself, and a only a little crazier, and he was determined to keep him alive through this yayavara phase of his.

Dwarika's messengers had found them a few times, prodded on by his increasingly worried wives, despite his attempts to dissuade them. For the past few weeks, however, no one had disturbed them, and Upamanyu had seemed more cheery than usual. They had arrived at the top of that particular mountain only to walk into a snowstorm. Hence, they had taken shelter. The storm had shown no indication of slowing down over the past week, and moving in any direction proved impossible.

Krishna had managed to block off the entrance to the cave they were sheltering in to ensure no wild animal came in after them. He only moved it twice a day to refresh the air and to make sure that the falling snow didn't block them in. Upamanyu didn't seem to care either way. He spent his hours either meditating or humming unintelligible tunes at the walls.

Krishna held a silver chalice over the crackling fire, attempting to heat up the last of the milk that they had been surviving on. A shadow passed over Upamanyu's eyes as he glanced sideways at the chalice. Krishna smiled uneasily. The storm was beating upon the door of the cave with such ferocity that it almost seemed human. In the first couple of days, Krishna kept thinking it might be an actual human stranded, or fleeing some wild beast, but it had always turned out to be the howling wind. Upamanyu was never bothered by it. He had been raised in the mountains and was quite used to its tantrums.

While a shared love of the beverage had helped them bond, Krishna wasn't too sure what would happen after their supply was exhausted. He, too, was hungry. After all, staying alive off of a bag of assorted nuts, bitter green leaves and a single pot of milk for a week hadn't been easy. With a hidden sigh, he handed over the warm chalice to his friend. Upamanyu, with a mischievous smile, said, "We'll let Agni have a taste, what say?" He poured the milk into the fire and threw the container back at Krishna. He let the chalice hit his chest and then fall to the ground with a clank. They couldn't both help but smile at their situation.

Their bags only had a few nuts in the nooks and crannies, and that was the last of their food. Krishna was worried, but the sage shook his head, "Let nature take its course, Krishna. Nature will always win. Go. Sleep!"

Krishna sighed. He never understood Upamanyu.

Growing up, Krishna had always had a fire inside him. A deep, burning desire to survive. This is what had propelled him all across the subcontinent, discontent with letting him settle down for the better part of a decade. His friend seemed quite the opposite. In his haste to keep moving, he hardly seemed to care if he lived or died.

However, Krishna had accepted Upamanyu as a guru and did not wish to disobey his direct order. Hence, he dejectedly walked over to his corner near the entrance of the cave and pulled his damp coat over his shoulder to try and get some sleep. He would have liked to put on a few more layers, but they had thrown all their other clothing into the fire to keep it burning.

---

The next morning, Krishna awoke wincing to a strong tug on his arm, only to find Upamanyu practically dragging him towards the entrance of the cave. Krishna rubbed his eyes with one hand even as he shook his head. He was used to the rishi not having any patience or compassion for other humans once something got into his mind. "I'm coming!" Krishna complained as he struggled to free himself of the sage's grip and get back on his feet, "How on earth did you move that stone? It's taller than either of us! You don't even work out that much!" He marvelled. Something seemed to have reinvigorated the rishi, who was usually calm and rather a dork.

Upamanyu maniacally beckoned to him from outside the cave, and Krishna rushed to stand beside him, even though his legs sank up to the knees in the fresh powdery snow. Before his eyes stood a majestic mountain shrouded in a cloak of milk. Several horizontal ridges lined its face, and in the centre, the shape of an eye glowed down at them. The mountain was bathed in the rays of the young sun. It seems as though the morning itself blossomed only to serenade it in gold. The storm had vanished, leaving a carpet of pristine snow at its heel and the sky a dazzling blue. The sunlight reflected off every corner, and bouncing off the mountain, it glittered in blinding glory.

"Kailasha-" Krishna whispered, almost to himself. Upamanyu, standing beside him, sighed with similar awe.

For many long hours after that, the two of them just sat at the feet of the mountain. Their clothes were dampened again by the fresh snow, but they didn't care for it. Neither of them spoke, for the glory of the towering mountain had not yet finished washing over them.

When the sun was almost set to disappear, Upamanyu said in a low voice, "See, I knew where I was going!"

"Are we going to climb it tomorrow? Now that the storm is gone?"

"No!" Upamanyu laughed as if Krishna had asked him the silliest of questions, "Why would we ever do that?"

"I thought we came here to see Shiva. Isn't that right?"

"Yes, and there he is!" Upamanyu gestured wildly at the mountain.

"I thought that's where he lives?"

"Yes, and also that's what he is!" Upamanyu laughed.

"Oh," Krishna stood up.

"Does this disappoint you, Krishna? Does this vastness, and this expanse and this mercy and this implosion of all your human senses by the grace of the dhavala-digambara disappoint you?"

"It's not like that-" Krishna furrowed his brows, but Upamanyu cut him off, "Oh, so you were expecting a man to rush down that mountain, four arms outstretched coming to embrace you then? And that would not be creepy?"

Krishna opened his mouth to protest, but Upamanyu continued regardless, "See, this is the problem with you humans, you don't see your god, you're disappointed, but if he does descend, you think he's insane. Now what on earth should he do with you all?" Still mumbling angrily to himself, Upamanyu briskly walked over to a nearby patch of ice and started jumping on it.

Krishna stood stunned for a moment before running after him. Upamanyu had found a lake and was now jumping on the ice on its surface even as he rapidly undressed. Right before Krishna reached him, the ice beneath the rishi's feet split with an ear-wracking crack, and down he went with a swift swish and a little splash.

"Did you really need to do this just because I asked the wrong question?" Krishna sighed exasperatedly as he knelt beside the hole in the ice where his friend was still bobbing up and down with a wide grin on his face.

"You need to do this also, Krishna! And not everything is about you. This is the divine Manasa Sarovara, born out of the mind of Brahma. Now do the old pitamaha a favour and take a dip with me, will you?" Krishna hesitated. Upamanyu shook his head, a dangerous glint lighting up his eyes, "See, if you don't start undressing, I will start punching!" Krishna yelped as the rishi really slipped from his hand and swam down under his feet and began punching the ice.

"No, wait!" Krishna pleaded, as cracks appeared beneath his feet, and he started to take off his fur coat, "It'll be miserable if I put this in the lake! Do I have to take off everything, though?"

"Why, are you shy?"

"Not exactly, but-"

"This is Shiva's realm, Krishna. The rules are all topsy-turvy, the day is night, and the night is day! Don't think, just jump in, and you'll be fine! I'm right here. I'll catch you!"

Krishna nodded weakly and punched the ice right next to the hole that Upamanyu had made to make it bigger, and then gingerly stepped in. Immediately, he noticed that they were indeed near the middle of the lake, and it was far deeper than he had anticipated. The water was crystal blue, and surprisingly not as cold as he had expected it to be.

"See, I told you!" Upamanyu exclaimed!

"No, you didn't, dude!" Krishna exclaimed, even as he held on to his friend's shoulder with one hand and the ice barrier in the other, to steady himself as a school of fish tickled his feet, "You told me nothing, all the way here!"

Upamanyu, without another word, gripped Krishna by the shoulder and dunked him with all his might. Krishna, not expecting it, went down before resurfacing, now drenched in every atom. Angrily, Krishna too dunked Upamanyu in the cold waters, making the little fish disperse in fear. Upamanyu, still grinning like a maniac, did the same to Krishna.

They went round and round a few times before Upamanyu pulled Krishna close to himself and began whispering something in his ear. After a while, Krishna pulled back, surprise etched on every wrinkle on his reddened face.

"What was that?" Krishna said weakly.

"You said I never tell you anything. So, I did. That was the final secret about being a yogi. Do with that what you will. Now, repeat these mantras after me. We've come so far, let's get the worship out of the way, then we can get back to admiring his grandeur!"

---

Krishna sighed as he gathered up his carrier bag to set it on fire to survive the oncoming night. The clear nights are colder, Upamanyu had warned him. He had experienced a lot in the last few months following Upamanyu around. He had met a lot of people. He had shooed a lot of people, and he had learnt, when the mountains chucked something at him, to dish it right back. The darshana of Kailasha that morning had quenched his thirst in every way imaginable.

However, he still bore expectations. To see Shiva with his own eyes, just as he had heard so many devotees before him do. He was a little disappointed at not being able to see him in the flesh, even when he had come so far, but the thirst had died, even as he had pondered over the secrets that Upamanyu had divulged to him in the lake.

Krishna felt as though nothing could shake him now. He felt a certain sense of peace wash over him. He was surprised that even though Upamanyu knew and presumably understood this theory, he didn't seem as peaceful. Apathetic, sure, but not at peace. Even as he tried to turn and ask his friend that, Krishna heard a loud thud. Shaken out of his reverie, Krishna found Upamanyu standing right at the edge of the bonfire, his eyes glazed over, staring at nothing, but burning fiercely in the reflection of the fire. Blood poured from his temple and flowed down onto his nose. Even the stream of blood seemed to burn brightly in the image of the fire.

"Ask." Upamanyu said hoarsely. His voice sounded nothing like himself, which now reverberated around the walls of the cave. The night outside was still. Not even the wind seemed to blow, and neither did the water move.

"Ask." He repeated, louder this time.

"What?" Krishna hesitatingly inched closer.

Suddenly, Upamanyu stretched his arms straight over the fire and dropped something in it. The fire flared up immediately, touching the ceiling of the cave. The burst threw Krishna back a few feet on his back. The fire continued to burn right beneath Upamanyu's face, shrouding the rest of his body behind itself.

"ASK!" The voice hollered.

Krishna remembered, with a jolt. His promise to Jambavati. He had nearly forgotten in his determination to follow and protect his friend. He sighed. That was, after all, the true reason for undertaking this journey. It would be a grave betrayal of Jambavati if he didn't see it through. He looked again at the face of his friend, which was now unrecognisable. His eyes burned with passion, and the blood streaming through his forehead had taken on the appearance of the famed third eye. He advanced towards the fire, but on his knees this time.

"Mahadeva?" He asked meekly.

"ASK!"

"A son! Equal to you, in strength, equal to me, in beauty, equal to my brother, in glory, and equal to my better half, in compassion. A son for the daughter of Jambavana and a son for the son of Vasudeva!" Krishna whispered his prayer ardently and fervently.

"Sambhava- it shall be so," The voice had morphed into that of a woman, "You will receive what you ask for. I see your doubt. You will receive what you ask for. All things that begin must also end. You will receive what you ask for."

Upamanyu's hand rose again, this time bearing his kamandala, the water that he dumped in a clear stream over the fire, extinguishing it. Then, he collapsed. Krishna caught his friend before his head hit the floor of the cave. Just then, a loud tremor shook the ground beneath their feet. Krishna, alarmed, throwing caution to the wind, ran out of the cave into the silent moonlit night, throwing his unconscious friend over his back.

Krishna stood outside, dumbstruck, as the ground beneath his feet shook violently. He barely could keep standing, so he sat down therefore with the snow providing some cushion. He carefully laid Upamanyu down beside him. Now, barring the cut on his temple, it seemed as though he was merely asleep. Krishna watched helplessly as the earth mercilessly ransacked their home-for-a-week. Within minutes, you couldn't even tell that there was ever any elevated structure there.

Krishna laughed ruefully. Nature takes its course indeed! He said to himself as he covered Upamanyu's now shivering form with his coat and prepared himself to keep vigil over the long night. At least the moon was out!

---

As the morning rose, Krishna was woken up by Upamanyu, shaking him violently. Krishna sat up slowly, turning once more to take in the majestic sight of Kailasha that stood before him. Were the ridges a bit different? Were they smiling now? He couldn't tell.

Krishna was brought back to reality by Upamanyu, "What did you do to our cave?" He asked.

"I don't know, what did you do to our cave?" Krishna retorted. He laughed a bit, seeing Upamanyu's face of utter confusion.

"You hit your head and somehow channelled our Mahadeva into your body to grant my wife her boon." Krishna shook his head, "Come along, let's take a bath. You seem more receptive to criticism in the middle of a lake anyway!"

"This body?" Upamanyu exclaimed.

"No, it's the one from your ten thousand and seventh life." Krishna smirked sarcastically as they both undressed, "It spontaneously manifested in the cave, spoke to me and incinerated itself in the same fire! What do you think?"

"Are you sure you did not dream this all before the earthquake hit?" Upamanyu asked Krishna between jumps over a shallow stretch of ice.

"I didn't imagine you would be sceptical!" Krishna laughed.

"You have to be a little, if it's your body, and you don't remember a thing!" Upamanyu hit back.

"Well, your head is hurt, and your toes are all burnt. You almost walked into the fire and nearly burnt down the cave while you were at it!"

Upamanyu still scratched his half-bald head, dropping into the cold water of the with Krishna mid-scratch, "Are you sure I didn't dream it all up? Like, a prolonged sleepwalking episode? Maybe I subconsciously just told you what I thought you wanted to hear?"

"Maybe, yes!" Krishna nodded, "But you were, to me, as real as that Kailasha, this lake, the snow and the fire. I truly felt like I was in Mahadeva's sabha last night, and I'll take it! Plus, you said something really surprising. Something about an end. If you don't remember anything, then I guess you cannot help me with decoding that as well." Krishna shook his head, spraying water all around him, "Anyway, now bathe! You are practically still smouldering!" Without warning, Krishna gripped the brahmin's shikha in one hand and the man's shoulder in another, and pulled him into the water.

"That's for yesterday!" Krishna grinned, as they both surfaced gasping for breath, "And you're coming to Dwarika! I will not hear anything!"

---

Krishna ran at Jambavati even as he descended from a bullock-cart he and Upamanyu had taken into the city. Jambavati too jumped into his arms and hid her face at the nape of his neck. The citizens all stared, but even as a crowd gathered, Jambavati did not let him go.

"I've got it!" Krishna whispered into her ear.

"What?" Jambavati asked even as she crooned into his embrace.

"The boon! The child that you have will be blessed by Shiva himself!"

Jambavati's face lit up, even as her eyes welled up, "I do not know how I should thank you! You did this all just for me?! Look at you, how thin you've become, and oh gods, that beard! That one has to go!"

Krishna laughed heartily and shook his head. Jambavati sniffled a little, "I said harsh words the last time we spoke! How must I atone, when you have also given me the biggest gift of all my life?"

"Don't! I saw Shiva because you sent me there!" Krishna cooed, "So much good came out of it, and so much good is to come in the future of this, right?"