I N F E R N O

"In the blink of an eye, it was all over."

-

The azure water in the river Saraswati, named after the goddess of wisdom, glowed in the faint gold of the setting sun as  it flowed as if weaving together the threads of destiny into an ethereal tapestry. The Camps of Kaurava women, mirrored a fleeting melancholy due to the disastrous consequence the seventeen days of war had meted out.

White had become a symphony of their grief as they had lost the colours of their lives along with the men of their Kin.

Ekantika and Bhaavika, two queens who had never gotten along, found themselves being each other's only solace amidst the overwhelming grief that surrounded them. Both had lost their fathers, their brothers, and the very pieces of their hearts—their sons. The only man left in their lives was their husband, Duryodhana—the very man who had brought them nothing but misery. Yet, despite everything, they still wanted him alive, at least for their own survival.

Their weary eyes glanced at the shrine of Mahadeva, guarded between two Bael trees as they sat in quietude, praying from within despite the heavy agony, that encompassed their very souls. Ekantika opened her eyes, tears rolling down them as with a trembling hand, she applied sindoor to her forehead, the crimson mark a bitter reminder of the vows she had once cherished.

"The messenger might come any moment, Bhaavika. I am leaving," Ekantika whispered as she stood up after praying to the lord one last time. Bhaavika gave a curt nod as she continued with her deep prayers, in a wistful wish that it would change what was destined —His death.

Ekantika felt the familiar grief wash over her, the same grief that now enveloped all the women—grief born from her husband's stubbornness and the consequences that followed.

She moved toward a nearby rock, sinking onto it as her heart thudded violently in her chest, each beat echoing the weight of the moment. Her eyes fell on the touch-me-not plants, their delicate leaves trembling as tears blurred her vision. She reminisced about Lakshman's childish amusement and excitement whenever he played with them. Her darling boy had left her forever, and she hadn't even had a chance to see him one last time. She had hidden her emotions well infront of the world, but only she knew how many tears she had shed in solitude. She had always known that war came with consequences, but she never imagined they would be this devastating.

Her eyes suddenly fell on Indhumathi, along with a few of her other sisters-in-law, all clad in pure white, coming to drink water. Ekantika pressed her lips together, unsure of how to react to their unexpected presence.

"You still have the boon of wearing sindoor, Yuvarani," Indhumathi spat, her voice sharp with bitterness. "But the reason I stand before you like this is that very man, for whose long life you are praying for."

"Indhu.." Ekantika whispered, the accusation striking her heart. She had never seen this side of Indhumathi before.

"She's right, Yuvarani," Vritika, Saha's wife, said, hastily wiping away the tears that streaked her cheeks. "We lost our fathers, our brothers, our husbands, and our sons—all for your husband."

"No amount of prayer can save him," Kumudini, Vivinsati's wife added, her eyes flashing with rage. "Karma is a vicious cycle."

"Did I not lose my father? Did I not lose my brother? Did I not lose my —my Lakshman?" Ekantika whispered, struggling to control the tears that threatened to spill. "It isn't like I am happy."

"You lost them all because of your husband's stubbornness." Indhumathi sobbed, her fair skin flushed from the constant rubbing of her face. "Maybe it was your fate, being betrothed to such a man, but what did we do to deserve this? My husband never stood with injustice yet he had to suffer the consequence of your husband's action".

"Please, stop it, all of you," Ekantika wept, her voice cracking under the weight of her masked grief. But instead of comfort, she was met with unempathetic eyes. She didn't blame them—she knew, deep down, that they were right but for once, she couldn't bear the weight of the truth about the man she knew better than he knew himself.

Before anyone could speak again, a soldier, though wounded fatally paced quickly towards them  and Ekantika held her breath, hoping for the worst.

"Yuvaraja.. He has fallen".

And those words were enough to pull the ground from beneath Ekantika's feet.

-

Here is the prologue of the tale.

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