Kaampilya, Paanchaal

The flames raged higher and higher, threatening to touch the tip of the sky.

Cackling and dancing with the winds like there was no tomorrow. The sky was a delicious tint of grey and dark, the clouds thickening around, arousing a deafening roar from the heavens.

The chants didn't stop yet, amalgamating itself with the claps of thunder. The winds picked up in a hefty speed, trembling the trees but not enough to perturb Yaj and Upyaj. The air was bagged with a sweet yet restless fragrance, of an anticipation they waited for. Red and tawny sparks flickered and spluttered here and there, with a maddening splendor that all watched with awe.

Drupad stared at the sacrificial altar, his eyes wide and jammed; he wrapped an arm around his son Dhrishtadyumn and pulled him close, who had just emerged from the same. Prishati looked on, along with Shikhandi, Satyajit and his brothers, their hearts twanging against their chest with cue.

The fire roared and so did the sky, in an apt sync.

No one knew when the did the flames cackle nor the thunder.

And then, there was a thin line of a smile that curved on Drupad's lips.

The flames began to mould into a coruscating outline. It seemed like fire within fire, that was burning within.

"My God. . ." Drupad let out a bare whisper, a thrill punching in his guts.

The fire was moulding itself, slowly yet steadily, as if each curve was a skill of ages. The tawny silhouette of a humanly figure was emanating with each syllable of chant, like a miracle that dug the eyeballs out. They held on to their hearts, praying with folded arms.

Their was a shriek that tremored as they could see the humanly curves of the two eyes that outlined from the flames, the raging locks of hairs which raged like the flickering sparks. And there was a sudden, vehement fragrance which had no link to the thick smell of the ghee and agaru around; it was sweet, enough to churn a lingering, dreamy inebriation of blue lotus.

The flames seemed to open its hidden chamber.

Drupad watched with a bated breath.

And with a blink of his eye, a dark feet cut through the fire, landing out on the altar.

Like the first ray of Sun, the first drop of rain and first whiff of wind. 

A longing blessing, an unblemished boon of the sacrifice. 

A gift of the Gods.

The sky seemed to break through all over again, defying the nature with a deep hum that rumbled across the clouds, "Behold, King Drupad! Your daughter is parallel to none!"

Drupad felt the thud of his heart betraying it's pace, his wonderstruck eyes roving over the lady that took another step out of the fire. The outline of the coruscating embers garnered, letting the world behold it's one of the best creations ever in history.

Her long, dark untamed curls waved unabashedly with the stormy, eddying winds. 

"Her beauty is such that one never has heard nor seen!"

Clouds seemed unhurried with their artistry, rendering splendorous palette of a dusky hue kissed with the subterfuge of blue, almost like the depth of a flame. Her slender dark arms rested in poise beside her suavely wide hips, girdling her narrow, curvy waist. Her elegant frame boasted of a sensual balance crowned with the soft allure of a voluptuous bosom draped with a flimsy, light saffron cloth of birth.

A beauty never seen, nor heard of. A beauty that would put 'beauty' to shame. 

"She's a blessing of the Gods! A woman of purpose, chosen for the duty of righteousness!"

The crowd stood awestruck, as the living sculpture of God breathed into life. 

"Accept her, King Drupad! For she shall be the one to instill terror in the heart of Kshatriyas!" Clapped the skies with a rumble. Yaj and Upyaj stood up in awe, witnessing the moulded glimpse of divinity fleeting down the steps regally. 

But the soft, arresting smile of the girl had nothing to do the harsh predictions. Her huge eyes, curved like the delicate petal of lotus, darted around with a hint of raw innocence that seemed to search for some familiarity. A few strands of her curled hairs dropped on her forehead with a whiff of wind, as she blinked to let the reality seep around.

Prishati cupped her mouth, breathing slowly and deeply, taking huge steps towards the altar. All she could see was a young, innocent child that needed to be chided from the evil.

"Oh my, my child!" She blinked tears, rushing towards the girl, who seemed like to surpass only sixteen summers. The girl's brows knitted slightly, her eyes curiously raving around Prishati who immediately cupped her tender cheeks, brushing away her long hairs with her motherly fingers, "My child. . ."

"Maata?" She whispered, her baritone as delicate yet rich like the chime of little bells.

Prishati looked at Drupad for a while, overwhelmed, "Yes yes daughter, I am—I am your mother!" She smothered fervent kisses all over her face, engulfing her in her warm arms. Her eyes twinkled delightfully at the sudden adoration, cradling her head on the Queen's shoulder.

The girl's eyes widened as they met the gaze of her twin brother. For a moment, Dhrishtadyumn stood still, his grin growing wider before he rushed forward and enveloped her in a tight hug. Shikhandi, Satyajit, and the rest soon crowded around their newfound sister, their faces alight with affection. One by one, she bent to seek their blessings, each gesture met with an extra touch of love—a fond caress, a playful pat, or a protective squeeze and loving words.

The family of Paanchaal seemed so complete now.

Drupad's eyes brimmed with tears as he slowly strode towards his daughter, who had a warm, innocent smile on her lips.

It was his daughter.

He remembered how he yearned to love Shikhandi, the way she was before. But alas, destiny never allowed him to love his firstborn like a daughter.

But this time, he made sure that nothing could halt him.

She would not bear the pangs like Shikhandi, not even a scratch. He would correct everything, he would be a perfect father for her, for everyone. He would mould himself to be better. He looked back at Shikhandi, who had tore the destiny for the sake of him, for the greater good.

Shikhandi was always 'Draupadi' for him, and so shall this girl be.

She would be Draupadi, Drupad's daughter.

"Pranaam, Pitashree," she murmured, her palms brushing the tips of his feet in reverence.

Drupad flinched slightly at the touch, a wave of emotion surging through him. It felt as though all the love in his heart might ooze out in that very moment. Tears welled in his eyes and traced silent paths down his cheeks as he leaned forward, lifting her to her feet, "My daughter. . . Draupadi!" Her lips curved in a lovely smile. With trembling hands, he smeared his thumb tenderly over her cheeks in a fondle, overwhelming the father within him

"Draupadi," He mumbled, letting her be engulfed in his affectionate arms.

And for a moment, his chord struck with the glimpse of that wonderful archer Prince, who had once upon a time shaken the daylights of Paanchaal.

The smile that lingered, just grew on his lips. . .

★★★★★★★★★

A/N

First of all, welcome to my book! 🙈✨

This was a kind of prologue for the book; we'll be catching up with the main content from the next chapters.

So, yes, before we begin let me say a few words:-

This book is going to be different from majority of the ArDi books you've read. It will be closely from BORI CE; if I add anything from outside I will SPECIFY it. There will be hardly any sort of sugarcoating I will do, whenever truth is concerned. 

For I am hell tired of seeing how ArDi is portrayed 🙂🙂🙂🙂, and this book has been a fruit of that 'tiredness.'

I am not yet quite ready with the plot, so I will be taking TIME to update it so please do wait. Reading BORI and analyzing it and then putting it mixed with creative liberty is a bit tedious 👉👈. 

Hope you'll will love this book as much you've loved others 🥺👉👈.

Signing off for today!

Kiritija Nushkie