The evening sun cast a warm glow over the palace as Vajra, small and curious, tiptoed through the long corridors. His feet made little sound, but his heart raced with excitement. He wasn't supposed to be here—his father's study room was a space reserved for Bhanu's royal duties, a place filled with important scrolls, maps, and decisions meant for kings and warriors. But something had drawn him here tonight, a need to see his father, not as the guru of the training grounds, but as the man who held him when he cried, the man who smiled at his smallest victories. His protector ! 

Vajra peeked around the large wooden door, just barely visible behind the thick curtain. His father sat at his desk, his back turned, his head bent over a royal scroll. Bhanu's presence was commanding even in silence, his focus so intense that Vajra felt hesitant to disturb him. And yet, his heart longed to be near him.

He took a careful step just inside the threshold,  holding his breath as he took a step more, determined not to make a sound. But just as he had taken barely three steps, Bhanu's deep voice cut through the stillness.

"Lal," Bhanu said, without looking up. His voice was warm, as though he had been expecting his son all along. "Come in."

Vajra froze, wide-eyed, caught in the act. "How did you know, Pita?" he asked, his voice filled with surprise. "You didn't even turn around!"

Bhanu finally looked up from the scroll and turned, his eyes gleaming with both wisdom and affection. He set the royal parchment aside and leaned back in his chair, smiling softly. "A father's heart always knows when his child is near," he said gently. "I felt you before you even stepped into the room."

Vajra blinked, still puzzled but feeling a warmth rise in his chest. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips, and before he could think twice, he darted toward Bhanu, who opened his arms wide to receive him. Vajra climbed onto his father's lap, curling up against him, feeling safe and secure in the embrace.

For a moment, they sat like that in silence, the world outside the study room forgotten. Bhanu's strong arms held his son close, and Vajra's small hands rested on his father's chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

Vajra, resting his head against Bhanu's shoulder, suddenly lifted his gaze and asked, "Does that apply even for a teacher, Pita?"

Bhanu, his gaze softened, looked down at his son. He didn't answer immediately, letting the question linger between them. The lines between father and teacher had blurred for Vajra over the past few days, and Bhanu understood the weight of that confusion. He said nothing, allowing Vajra the space to explore his thoughts.

Vajra's small fingers tightened slightly on Bhanu's angavastram, and when he looked up again, there were tears in his eyes—not of sadness, but of understanding, of growth. "I think I finally understand," Vajra whispered, his voice trembling with emotion. "Failure isn't really failure... unless you give up. If you keep trying, it's just a step toward getting better. Toward success."

Bhanu's heart swelled with affection. He had watched his son struggle through those long days of training, had seen him wrestle with his limitations and frustration, and now—now, Vajra had found the truth within himself. Bhanu smiled, the kind of smile that held years of wisdom, but also the joy of a father witnessing his son's real understanding of the world.

Gently, Bhanu lifted a hand and caressed Vajra's head, smoothing back his unruly hair. "You've learned well, Lal," he said softly. "And you've learned the most important lesson of all—that persistence is what makes a warrior. It's not the weapon, nor the strength of your arm. It's the strength of your spirit."

Bhanu's eyes softened further as he gazed at his son, the weight of his words lingering in the air. After a long, thoughtful pause, he gently cupped Vajra's cheek, tilting his face up to meet his gaze.

"Now," Bhanu said quietly, his voice deep and full of emotion, "I will tell you something even more important." Vajra blinked, his eyes wide with curiosity.

"You can persist in any task, and with enough heart, you will conquer every challenge in front of you," Bhanu continued. "But there is one task, Lal , where you do not even have to try, and yet, you will never fail."

Vajra's brow furrowed slightly, unsure of what his father meant.

Bhanu smiled—a gentle, knowing smile. "That task is being a loving son. No matter how many mistakes you make, no matter how much you stumble in life, you will never fail in the eyes of your mother and me. For in our hearts, you are already everything we could ever dream of. In our lives, you will always, always succeed."

Vajra's chest tightened with emotion, his young heart swelling at his father's words. Tears welled in his eyes again, but this time, they were not tears of confusion or frustration. They were the tears of a child who had just been wrapped in the deepest and most unconditional love.

Bhanu pulled him close, pressing a kiss to the top of Vajra's head. "No matter what, Lal," he whispered, "we are always there for you."

Vajra blinked away the few tears that had gathered at the corners of his eyes, feeling the warmth of his father's words settle into his heart. He snuggled closer into Bhanu's chest, feeling the weight of his earlier struggles lift. For the first time in days, he felt lighter. 

Bhanu held him for a long moment, his strong arms protective yet tender, before his voice took on a lighter, playful tone. "Now," Bhanu began, a mischievous glint entering his eyes, "what do you say we pay a little visit to your mother? She's been suspiciously peaceful today... we can't have that, can we?"

Vajra's eyes brightened. He looked up at Bhanu, his lips curving into a mischievous grin. "What should we do, Pita?"

Bhanu chuckled softly, his own mischievous grin matching his son's. "Oh, I'm sure we can think of something. Perhaps we 'accidentally' spill a cup of milk near her favorite dress , trouble her for making different food dishes... or maybe we pretend that you've found her diary."

Vajra giggled, his earlier tears forgotten, as he leaned in close, his small voice conspiratorial. "Or maybe... we could hide her sandals again, like last time."

Bhanu laughed, a deep and joyful sound, ruffling Vajra's hair. "You, Lal, are learning fast," he said with pride. "I'm sure together we can come up with the perfect plan to tease her. Just remember... we must escape quickly after!"

Vajra's eyes sparkled with excitement, the earlier weight of his training replaced by the simple joy of being a child, plotting harmless mischief with his father. And for a brief moment, in that study room filled with scrolls and royal duties, Bhanu wasn't the stern teacher or the noble prince. He was just a father, sharing a moment of love and laughter with his son.

As the two of them crept out of the study room, ready to embark on their next playful adventure, the bond between them felt stronger than ever—built on lessons, struggles, and a deep, unbreakable love.

After a few days , the courtyard was alive with the buzzing energy of a warm afternoon. Krishna and Balarama, seated under the shade of a large tree, were enjoying a rare moment of quiet conversation. 

Vajra and Aniruddha, had spent the entire morning giggling and whispering in a secret corner of the palace. They had roped in Rukmini and Revathi to help with what they believed was the perfect prank to pull on their grandfathers.

"It's going to be perfect , Jyestha," Vajra whispered excitedly, his eyes wide with excitement. His small hands held a clay pot, half-filled with water. Next to him, Aniruddha carefully stirred what appeared to be a sticky paste made of honey and flower petals.

Aniruddha smiled softly , Vajra had mostly been the orchestor of their mischievous plans. "Both our Pitamaha won't know what hit them!" He grinned, pleased with their handiwork. "Are you sure Pitamahi's will help us?" Vajra asked, his voice full of wonder.

"They suggested the prank, didn't they?" Aniruddha replied, looking toward the two grandmothers who were pretending to arrange flowers in the courtyard, but clearly casting mischievous glances at their grandsons.

Rukmini and Revathi exchanged knowing looks. Their grandsons reminded them so much of Krishna and Balarama when they were young, always up to some sort of trouble. And today, they would not only watch but actively participate.

The plan was simple: Vajra and Aniruddha would distract Krishna and Balarama, and the they would execute the prank. The boys had spent hours planning it. A pot of cold water, sticky honey paste, and a pile of soft, colorful flower petals were ready. Now, all that was left was the execution.

Vajra peeked around the pillar to see Krishna and Balarama engrossed in their conversation. He tiptoed back to Aniruddha, his heart racing with excitement. "Ready?"

Aniruddha nodded. "Ready."

The boys made their way toward the unsuspecting grandfathers, trying to hold in their giggles. Vajra carried the clay pot, while Anirudh held the flower petals in his hands.

Revathi, who was watching them closely, gave a small nod to Rukmini. That was their cue.

Just as Vajra and Aniruddha reached the two men, Rukmini and Revathi started their part of the prank. Rukmini, with a sly smile, walked up to Krishna and handed him a bowl of fruit. "Here, Swami," she said sweetly, "I thought you might enjoy something refreshing."

Krishna, ever gracious, smiled back. "Thank you, Priye," he said, taking the bowl without suspecting a thing but some where in his eyes - there was a glint of knowing.

Revathi, not to be left behind, handed a bowl to Balarama. "For you too, Swami. It's a warm day, after all."

Balarama accepted the bowl, his focus still on the conversation, unaware of the impending prank.

Aniruddha was the first to act. He leaned forward, pretending to trip, and tossed a handful of flower petals straight at Balarama's face. The petals flew up in the air, showering Balarama in a cascade of colors sticking to his face with the honey. Vajra, not wanting to be outdone, followed suit and splashed the water from his pot straight onto Krishna's lap.

For a split second, there was silence.

And then—chaos!

Krishna, soaked but grinning, blinked in surprise as the cold water trickled down his angavastram. He looked at Vajra with an exaggerated expression of shock. "What is this? A monsoon in the courtyard?"

Balarama, now covered in a vibrant layer of flower petals and honey, stared at the boys, his stern expression slowly melting into a broad smile. "So, it's like that, is it?" he growled playfully.

Before Vajra and Aniruddha could react, Krishna and Balarama were on their feet. "Get them!" Krishna shouted with a laugh, his voice booming through the courtyard.

The boys squealed in delight and bolted, running as fast as their little legs could carry them, weaving between the pillars and giggling uncontrollably. Krishna and Balarama gave chase, though it was clear they were holding back, enjoying the game as much as the boys were.

Rukmini and Revathi watched from the sidelines, laughing so hard they could barely breathe. "Oh, those poor boys," Rukmini managed to say between giggles. "They have no idea what they've started."

As the chase continued, Krishna finally caught up with Vajra, swooping him up into his arms and spinning him around. "Ah, my little mischief-maker!" Krishna laughed. "You thought you could escape?"

Vajra, still giggling uncontrollably, squirmed in his grandfather's arms. "You're all wet, Pitamaha!" he squeaked. "The prank worked!"

Krishna grinned, still holding Vajra as he walked back toward the center of the courtyard. "It did work," he said, "but let's see what your Bal Pitamaha has in store for your Jyestha."

Balarama had managed to corner Aniruddha, who was now out of breath from running. Instead of grabbing him, Balarama crouched down to Aniruddha's level and pulled a face. "Well, dulhara," he said in a mock-serious voice, "it seems you've decorated me quite nicely."

Aniruddha, his cheeks red from laughter, puffed out his chest and said, "You look very colorful, Pitamaha."

Balarama couldn't help but burst into laughter. "Oh, you cheeky boy!" He grabbed Aniruddha and, with a twinkle in his eye, smeared some honey from the prank right onto Aniruddha's nose.

The courtyard was now a scene of joyous chaos. Krishna, still holding a giggling Vajra, plucked a few petals off Balarama's shoulder and dropped them onto Vajra's head. "You've got some competition, little one. Your Pitamaha might be the new flower prince." Balarama mock glared.

Vajra giggled, reaching up to touch the petals on his head. "But I'm the smallest little prince, Pitamaha!"

Krishna chuckled. "That you are, little one. That you are."

The queens finally joined the group, wiping tears of laughter from their eyes. "Well done, boys," Revathi said, ruffling Aniruddha's hair. "You've managed to outsmart your grandfathers—for now."

"But," Rukmini added with a grin, "don't be surprised if they come up with a prank of their own very soon."

The boys' eyes widened at the thought of a counter-prank, but for now, they were too exhausted from laughing to care. They flopped onto the ground, still giggling as Krishna and Balarama sat back down, smiling at their mischievous grandsons.

The boys lay sprawled out, tired from their antics, while their grandfathers looked at them with love and affection.

Krishna leaned over to Balarama and whispered, "I think we've got a couple of future pranksters on our hands , Dau."

Balarama nodded, his eyes twinkling. "And thanks to you , Kanha ".

Krishna pouted at the intended playful mock.

Bhanu and Suthanu stood a little distance away, watching the courtyard. Suthanu, her arms crossed gently over her chest, turned to Bhanu, her expression both tender and thoughtful. "Do you remember what you told Lal earlier?" she asked softly, her gaze lingering on their son, now covered in petals and honey, still bouncing with joy. "The disturbance that I'd been noticing in him for weeks... it's gone now."

Bhanu's eyes followed hers, watching Vajra as he ran around with Aniruddha, their small feet pattering against the stone floor. His heart swelled with affection. "Yes," he replied, his voice steady, "I told him that he will always remain our precious child, no matter what."

Suthanu looked at Bhanu, a soft smile playing on her lips, but her eyes were curious. She could sense that there was more to it than just that. "And what brought about this sudden change in him?"

Bhanu sighed, but there was a lightness in his exhale, as though the weight of some unspoken tension had lifted. "Lal has understood something important now—the value of learning, not just success, but the lessons in failure too. He's begun to see that balance is necessary in everything—his playtime is his playtime, and his training is his training. He's learning to embrace both, to know that one cannot exist without the other."

Suthanu's eyes softened as she listened. "You've always known exactly what he needs," she said, admiration clear in her voice.

Bhanu turned his gaze to her, the same warm affection lighting his features. "That's because I see him for who he is, and who he's becoming but not more than you - priye. Our little son is so much the Thanu I could never see in your childhood that was lost," he said quietly. "Us , Adi. Lal has gifted us with our entire childhood back again", Suthanu smiled. 

Before Bhanu could respond, a familiar sound reached their ears—little feet pounding the ground in eager steps. Vajra, now sticky with honey and still adorned in flower petals, came running towards them with all the speed his small legs could muster. Bhanu smiled as he watched his son approach, but in a playful move, he gently pulled Suthanu to stand in front of him, shielding himself.

Vajra, in all his innocent exuberance, flung himself straight into Suthanu's arms, his sticky hands and body leaving a trail of petals and honey all over her carefully draped dress. Suthanu's eyes widened as she looked down at the mess on her clothes, then shot a mock glare at Bhanu.

"You were supposed to catch him," she said, her tone playful though her expression was stern.

Bhanu threw his head back and laughed. "I thought it was only fair to share the fun, my Aaru!"

But before Bhanu could react further, Suthanu, with surprising swiftness, lifted Vajra up in her arms, smiling sweetly at Bhanu. "Oh, is that so?" she asked innocently.

Vajra giggled, sensing the playful tension between his parents. In the next moment, Suthanu leaned toward Bhanu, and with a mischievous twinkle in her eye, Vajra, taking the cue, wrapped his sticky little hands around his father's neck, pulling Bhanu into a messy embrace. Bhanu blinked, his expression turning from amusement to mild shock as he found himself covered in the same honey and petals that had adorned his son.

"Now you've got a bit of your own medicine!" Suthanu teased, her eyes sparkling with delight.

Bhanu stood there for a moment, half-stunned, half-laughing as Vajra beamed proudly at the chaos he'd just caused. Then, finally, Bhanu's composure broke, and he burst into laughter, his deep voice joining the peals of joy from both Suthanu and Vajra.

The three of them stood there, laughing together, a moment of pure, uncomplicated happiness. 

As the laughter began to subside, Bhanu looked down at his son, whose energy had not yet waned. "Well, my little mischief-maker," he said, his tone still light and playful, "it seems we're both in need of a bath now, aren't we?"

Vajra nodded eagerly, his eyes bright with excitement. "Let's go, Pita! Can we play with the water?"

Bhanu chuckled and nodded. "Of course. We'll make it the grandest bath of all."

Suthanu shook her head fondly as she watched her husband and son begin to walk toward the baths, their conversation already turning to what fun they could have together. Bhanu's hand rested protectively on Vajra's small back, and the sight filled Suthanu's heart with a warm glow.

As she stood there, lost in thought, a familiar presence moved beside her. She turned to find Krishna, his eyes twinkling with amusement. He glanced at Bhanu and Vajra's retreating figures before raising an eyebrow at her.

"Do those two mischief-makers trouble you much?" Krishna asked, his voice teasing but gentle.

Suthanu looked back at Krishna, about to answer, when her eyes caught sight of him. Her lips twitched as she took in the sight of him, his robes still soaked from the earlier prank. She tried to hold back her laughter, but the image was too much.

"Maybe not as much as they trouble you, Pita," she said, a laugh bubbling out of her. "You look like you've just been through a storm."

Krishna chuckled, his own amusement rising. "I suppose I have," he admitted, though his tone held no irritation—only fondness for the mischief he had been subjected to.

Suthanu smiled warmly at him and added, "Why don't I have some hot milk brought to your chamber , Pita? It'll help you warm up after the... 'storm.'"

Krishna smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "That would be lovely, child," he said softly. "And perhaps next time, I'll be the one planning the prank."

Suthanu raised an eyebrow, her smile widening. "Oh? Then we'll have to be ready, won't we?"

Krishna laughed and nodded. "Yes, indeed. But for now, I think I'll enjoy the peace... while it lasts."

As Krishna made his way back, Suthanu stood for a moment longer, watching the light-hearted joy that filled her home. There was a certain balance here—between love and duty, laughter and learning. And for that, she was grateful.  

Suthanu carried the small tray with a brass jug of hot milk and a gold cup, making her way toward Krishna's chamber. The warm light from the flickering oil lamps cast gentle shadows along the stone walls, and the cool evening breeze swept through the corridors. As she approached his room, she felt a calmness within her, the kind she always felt in her father's presence.

She found Krishna standing by the window, his silhouette soft against the twilight sky. He was humming a faint tune, his fingers gently tracing the leaves of the small plants that adorned his chamber. The moment he heard her footsteps, he turned with that familiar smile. 

"Ah, Suthanu," Krishna greeted, his voice tender. "Come, my child. I hope you haven't rushed for my sake."

Suthanu shook her head, setting the tray down on a low table. "No, Pita. It's no trouble at all. I thought you might like something warm after today's... adventures." She smiled, recalling the prank and its aftermath.

Krishna laughed, a sound that held the joy of a thousand ages. "Indeed, it was quite the adventure, wasn't it? Those little boys will be quite the warriors one day, but for now, they're masters of mischief."

As he sat down, Suthanu poured the milk into the cup and handed it to him. He took a sip, his eyes twinkling with contentment. Meanwhile, Suthanu moved toward the window, where the small clay pots of plants stood in neat rows. Krishna had always tended to these plants whenever he was in this chamber—it was his quiet ritual. Suthanu picked up the small watering pot nearby and began to pour water gently over the roots, continuing his work as he enjoyed his drink.

For a moment, the room was filled with a comfortable silence. 

As Suthanu watered the last plant, Krishna's voice broke the quiet, his tone a bit more reflective. "Time is changing, Thanu," he said softly, watching the steam rise from his cup. "Vajra is growing, faster than we realize. And with growth comes change... not just for him, but for you too."

Suthanu paused, setting the watering pot down and turning toward him, her brow furrowing slightly. "What do you mean, Pita?"

Krishna looked up at her, his expression still warm but his eyes carrying a depth that spoke of wisdom only time could give. "As dulhara grows, and as Bhanu continues to guide him, there will be moments where you might feel... caught between them. Between your duties as a mother, and as Bhanu's wife."

Suthanu's heart skipped a beat. She had always known that her roles would grow more complex as Vajra aged, but hearing Krishna speak of it made it feel more real, more immediate.

"You may feel, at times, torn between them," Krishna continued, his voice gentle but steady. "Bhanu's way as a father and a mentor is firm, but filled with love. And Vajra's journey will not always be easy. You might see moments where they clash like every father and son at times, where your heart will ache to protect one from the other. In those critical moments, Suthanu, you will feel pulled apart, unsure of where to stand."

Suthanu swallowed, her throat tightening with emotion. She hadn't yet considered how difficult it might be, how she could feel split between her love for her husband and her duty as a mother. She moved closer to Krishna, sitting on the floor beside his chair, resting her hand to press his leg. "What should I do, Pita?" she asked softly, her voice filled with vulnerability. "How will I know what's right?"

Krishna reached down and gently placed his hand on her head, just as he had done when she was a child, offering her comfort in the simplest of gestures. "When that time comes," he said, his voice filled with a love only a father could know, "remember this— you have me Thalli. You are the daughter of this house , first. I and your mothers will be there for you. Even when you feel torn apart, when you feel like the weight of the world is on your shoulders... you will never stand alone."

Suthanu looked up at him, her eyes misting with tears. "But what if I don't know the right path?"

Krishna smiled, his hand still resting gently on her head. "There is no one right path, Suthanu. But know this—no matter the path you choose, I will always be there for you. And you must trust in yourself. The bond you share with Bhanu, with Vajra, is built on love and understanding and as much as I have seen , you and Bhanu will always find the path together. That togetherness will never lead you astray."

Suthanu felt the weight of her father's words settle deep within her heart, grounding her. She leaned her head against his knee, feeling both like a child again and a mother, a wife, all at once. "I will remember, Pita," she whispered. "I will hold onto that."

Krishna smiled, his hand shifting to caress her cheek affectionately in way only a father could have. "That's my child. And don't forget, you're stronger than you think."

For a long moment, they remained like that, father and daughter sharing a quiet, loving bond. It was a bond that needed no words, no reassurances—just the simple understanding that Krishna would always be her guiding light, no matter what the future held.

After a while, Krishna finished his milk, setting the cup aside. He glanced toward the plants, which Suthanu had watered so tenderly. "You've done a fine job with those, child," he said, his tone lighter now. "Better than I could've managed."

Suthanu smiled, rising to her feet again. "I've had a good teacher," she teased gently, her eyes twinkling just like his.

Krishna chuckled softly, his eyes filled with pride and affection. "You've always been a fast learner."

As she moved to leave, Krishna's voice caught her a moment longer. "And Thalli?" he said, his tone soft but serious once more.

She turned to face him, their eyes meeting in the quiet of the night.

"When the time comes, trust in yourself. Trust in the love you've built with Bhanu, and the bond you share with Vajra. It will see you through."

Suthanu nodded, her heart full. "I will, Pita."

With that, she left the room, the weight of Krishna's wisdom resting on her shoulders like a gentle embrace. As she walked down the corridors, her mind was filled with a deep sense of peace and happiness. 

And as she glanced back toward Krishna's chamber one last time, she smiled, knowing that whatever challenges lay ahead, she would never truly be alone.

To be continued...

Since it's Navaratri , giving a double update. May be my share of gift to readers? 

May the goddess bless us all ! 

So , how was this chapter? I totally love all of them here <3 

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