The next morning, Vajra and Agastya stood at the entrance of the grand palace of Indraprastha. Neerja had offered to take them on a tour, knowing how much they needed to understand the history that now surrounded them.

"Come, boys," she said with a gentle smile, "there is much to show you, much to learn."

As they stepped through the towering arched doors, they entered a vast hall adorned with intricately designed pillars, each one telling stories from the earlier times etched in stone. The murals painted on the ceilings reflected the glory of Indraprastha during the time of the Pandavas, it's first rulers. 

"This palace was built by the Pandavas with the help of Dwarkadeesha himself," Neerja began, her voice soft but filled with reverence. "It was a gift from DevaUttama Indra Deva built by Vishwakarma, the celestial architect. It is said to be so beautiful as the heavens itself."

Vajra and Agastya listened intently, their footsteps barely audible on the polished marble floors as they passed through the hallways. Neerja guided them to a vast courtyard where once, the  Pandavas themselves walked. The boys gazed around, their young eyes wide with awe at the grandeur of the space.

"This was where Samrat Yudhishthira, your Prapitamaha Vajra, held his court and your father , Maharaja Bhanu holds the court," Neerja explained, her hand motioning toward the raised platform. "It was here that the great Rajasuya Yagna was performed, and where Dwarkadeesha himself crowned Dharmaraja earlier and then crowned Bhrata later."

Vajra could almost see Bhanu, seated on the throne—majestic and wise, his presence calming and assuring. Bhanu's eyes held a fierce kindness, his hand raised not in command but in understanding, his form imbued with the promise of justice and care for all who came before him. Beside him, he pictured Suthanu, seated gracefully, her serene beauty reflecting a quiet strength. She was like the moonlight that softened his father's brilliance, the gentle yet resolute queen who could hold a kingdom's heart in her hands. In Vajra's mind, they looked timeless, as if they were part of an eternal legacy, the embodiment of Indraprastha's spirit—its dharma, its compassion, and its unbreakable honor. 

As they ventured deeper into the palace, Neerja's words wove the rich history of the Pandavas and their legacy. She spoke of their courage, their peseverance during the initial building, their trials and the eventual rise of Indraprastha under their wise rule. But it wasn't just stories of glory and power—she told them about the brothers' humility, their devotion to justice, and their love for their people.

Soon, they came upon a corridor that led to a series of rooms, each door ornate, with carvings of intricate patterns.

"These chambers belonged to the sons of the Pandavas. our Rajakumaras," Neerja explained almost with moist eyes. "Prativindhya, Sutasoma, Shatanika, Shrutakarma, Shrutasena , Yaudheya , Sarvaga , Abhimanyu , Niramitra and Suhotra... the next generation who carried their fathers' legacies forward."

Vajra stopped at the threshold of one chamber, his eyes fixed on the space within. There was something about the room, the stillness, the faint scent of sandalwood that lingered in the air, that stirred something deep within him. He couldn't explain why, but he felt a connection, as though the spirits of those who had lived here were watching over him and blessing him.

Agastya placed a hand on his shoulder, sensing his friend's silence. "What happened?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

Vajra nodded slowly. "It's like... like I've been here before. Like these walls know me."

Neerja, standing behind them, smiled warmly blinking back her tears. "Had they been alive Vajra , you would have been the apple of their eyes. Your uncles deeply cherished your mother , she was their life breath just like Bhanumati is to you. The connection you feel is not just to this place, but to your uncles those who lived here and continue to watch over. This palace, this city—it is a part of you."

Vajra's eyes lingered on the room for a few more moments before he turned to follow Neerja and Agastya down another hallway. The sense of awe, of history coming alive around him, stayed with him as they walked.

Soon, they reached a quieter part of the palace, a wing that was less grand but filled with personal touches. Here, the marble floors gave way to warmer tones, and the air felt more intimate. They rounded a corner and found themselves standing before two life-sized sculptures.

Vajra and Agastya stopped in their tracks, their breaths catching as they took in the sight. The sculptures stood side by side, exquisitely carved from smooth stone, almost lifelike in their precision. One was of Suthanu, her figure elegant, her face serene, as if she were gazing lovingly into Bhanu's eyes. Beside her was Bhanu, his form strong and protective, yet gentle in the way his hand seemed to rest near hers.

Neerja stood beside them, her voice soft as she spoke with a fond smile. "These sculptures hold a special story. When Suthanu stayed in Hastinapura during her pregnancy with you, Vajra, Bhrata Bhanu wanted to create something that would keep her with him , to lessen the agony of the separation. He spent countless days and nights carving this likeness of her, pouring his heart into every detail."

Vajra's eyes softened as he stepped closer to the sculpture of his mother, seeing the love in the way her form was shaped, the gentle curve of her lips, the peace in her expression.

"But Bhrata's work was never meant to stand alone," Neerja continued. "When Suthanu saw it, she understood what he had done, the love he had put into creating it. And so, after you were born and they returned to Dwarka, she made the decision to complete the pair. She carved Bhanu's likeness next to hers, as if to say that she was only complete with him , his side is what made her world - herself whole."

Agastya looked over at Vajra, whose eyes had grown misty with emotion. For the first time, Vajra felt the full depth of his parents' love for one another—a love that had shaped their lives and his. The sculptures weren't just stone. They were a testament to the bond between his mother and father, the unspoken strength that had carried them through life's challenges.

"Their love," Neerja said softly, "is not something they wear as a crown or wield as a sword. It is something quiet, something carved into the very foundation of their lives. And this palace, this city—it breathes because of that love."

Vajra reached out, his fingertips brushing the cool stone of his father's sculpture. For the first time, he understood the enormity of what it meant to be born of such a legacy—not just of rulers, but of two people who had chosen to walk through life together with unwavering devotion.

The weight of everything that had happened in the past few days hung heavily on Vajra's young shoulders. As he and Agastya stood on one of the palace's high terraces, overlooking the sprawling city of Indraprastha, the reality of his lineage and future responsibilities became harder to ignore.

The rain from the storm had passed, but the land below hardly bore the scars of the flood with their parents efforts. People worked tirelessly to rebuild along with their parents round the clock. Vajra felt his chest tighten as he looked down at the land that his parents, Bhanu and Suthanu, ruled with such care. It wasn't just a city—it was their responsibility. And one day, it might be his.

He turned to Agastya, who stood beside him, his gaze equally distant as they watched the efforts below.

"Agastya," Vajra said softly, breaking the silence. "One day, this might all be mine to bear."

Agastya looked at him, sensing the weight in his friend's words. Vajra continued, his voice more uncertain now. "I might be the crown prince of this land—maybe even the king one day. But even if I'm not, even if I never wear a crown, I'll still have to serve this land, won't I? This is my duty, no matter what. There's no escaping it."

There was a pause as the wind whispered around them, and Vajra's eyes remained fixed on the city below, his brow furrowed with concern. The gravity of his future felt immense, pressing down on him in a way that he hadn't fully understood until now. The history, the lineage, the expectations—they were no longer just stories. They were real, and they were his.

Agastya, sensing the depth of his friend's turmoil, placed a hand on Vajra's shoulder. "Vajra," he said, his voice calm, "you don't have to carry this weight alone. We both have our responsibilities in our own ways—whether it's as a crown prince for you or in some other way for me. But no matter what, we'll face them together."

Vajra glanced at him, the words offering some comfort. "It's just... I never thought of it like this before. Until now, I've always been just Vajra. But after seeing the people, the way they look at our parents, the way they rely on them, it makes me realize that one day they might look to us the same way. And that... that scares me."

Agastya smiled slightly, but it was a smile that carried the weight of understanding. "It scares me too," he admitted. "But Pita always says that courage isn't about being fearless. It's about doing what's necessary, even when you're afraid. And I think that's what our parents have been teaching us all this time. It's not just about being born into power—it's about being ready to serve."

Vajra was quiet for a long moment, letting his friend's words sink in. Agastya had always been the more carefree of the two, but in this moment, he was showing a wisdom beyond his years. Vajra realized that this was why they had been such close friends for so long—Agastya had a way of grounding him. 

"You're right," Vajra said finally, his voice more resolute now. "It's not just about being the crown prince or king. It's about being ready to serve, no matter what. And if that's the case, then I need to prepare myself—both of us do."

Agastya raised an eyebrow, curious. "What do you mean?"

Vajra turned to face him fully, his expression determined. "It's time for our Upanayana ceremony. We've grown up hearing about our duties, about dharma. But we need to embrace them now—not just as boys, but as those who will one day serve this land. The Upanayana will mark the beginning of that journey."

Agastya's eyes widened slightly, but a slow smile spread across his face as he realized what Vajra was suggesting. The Upanayana, the sacred thread ceremony, was an ancient ritual marking a boy's transition into spiritual and worldly responsibility. It was more than a religious act—it was a formal step into adulthood, a commitment to learning, discipline, and service.

"I think you're right," Agastya said after a moment, the excitement building in his voice. "It's time. We've been raised knowing that this day would come, and I think it's finally here. It's time to take our place, to learn what it really means to serve."

Vajra smiled, feeling a renewed sense of purpose. Agastya had always been there beside him, no matter what challenges they faced. Now, they would take this next step together—into a future that was uncertain, yes, but also filled with possibility.

"Then let's do it," Vajra said, his voice steady. "Let's tell our parents that we're ready."

Together, they turned and made their way back through the palace halls, their steps lighter now, filled with the resolve of their decision. They found their parents in a quiet chamber, discussing the relief efforts still ongoing after the flood. 

Suthanu and Bhanu looked up as the boys entered, sensing the determination in their eyes.

"Maiya, Pita," Vajra began, his voice clear and confident, "Agastya and I have made a decision. We are ready for our Upanayana. It's time for us to start learning what it means to serve this land, to embrace our responsibilities as a true Kshatriya."

There was a moment of silence as Suthanu and Bhanu exchanged a glance, their expressions unreadable. But then, slowly, Bhanu's face softened into a smile—one filled with both pride and understanding. Suthanu's eyes glistened with quiet emotion, her heart swelling at her son's maturity.

Neerja, who had been listening from a corner, nodded approvingly, her own pride for her son evident. Dhruv, standing beside her, smiled in his quiet, understated way, the weight of his own responsibility reflected in the respect he felt for the boys' decision.

Bhanu stepped forward, placing a hand on Vajra's shoulder, while Dhruv did the same with Agastya. "This is not an easy decision," Bhanu said, his voice full of warmth. "But it is the right one. The Upanayana is more than a ritual—it is the beginning of a lifelong journey of learning, of service, of understanding your place in this world. And you are both ready."

Suthanu moved to stand beside her son, brushing a hand over his hair. "We've watched you both grow into the young boys you are today, and we could not be more proud. This step you are taking will not just prepare you to serve this land—it will prepare you to be the kind of men this world needs."

Vajra looked up at his parents, his heart filled with both joy and humility. He knew the path ahead would not be easy, but for the first time, he felt ready to walk it.

Agastya smiled, his usual mischievousness replaced by a quiet determination. "Together," he said, looking at Vajra. "We'll do this together."

And in that moment, they knew they were not just stepping into a future shaped by their ancestors—they were shaping their own, with wisdom, courage, and the unbreakable bond of friendship that had always guided them.

In the quiet chambers of the Indraprastha palace, Suthanu and Bhanu sat together, discussing the future of their children. 

Bhanu leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, eyes distant in thought. "We have always known this day would come, when lal would need to step out of our shadow and learn the ways of the world. But who will teach him? Dwarka is his home, yes, but so is Hastinapura. Our parents are the greatest warriors and strategists of our time. But Vajra needs to learn independence, just as we did maybe only more after the Kurukshetra for the changing times. He needs to understand what it means to stand on his own, to think for himself."

Suthanu, sitting beside him, nodded slowly, her eyes filled with concern. "And not just him. Agastya will stand by his side as he always has. We must think about both of them, their education and their safety. The looming threat of Kalinga weighs heavily on my mind. We cannot risk their education to be in those areas as well."

The Kalinga kingdom, known for its strength and unpredictable alliances, had been a growing concern for the rulers of Indraprastha. It wasn't just a political rivalry—there was a sense of unrest that Bhanu and Suthanu both felt deep within after a major drastic event that unfolded in Indraprastha years back. The Kalinga king was humiliated in their land and the daughter of Kalinga - Amrusha was perceived to be fallen into claws of deceit by their family according to the eyes of the Kalinga Naresh Satyavan. 

Suthanu sighed softly, her hand resting gently on Bhanu's arm. "Who can we trust with their education? The great gurus of our time... they are few. And the boys, they need to learn more than just combat. They must understand dharma, responsibility, compassion, and the complexities of leadership. They need a teacher who can mold them into men of wisdom and strength, not just warriors."

Bhanu's brow furrowed in thought. "There are few who can guide them in the way they need. The world has changed since we were young. And there is no place for half-measures in their education."

Just as their discussion grew deeper, a soft knock came at the chamber door. A palace soldier entered, bowing respectfully.

"Maharaja, Maharani," he began, "A rishi has arrived at the palace gates. He requests an audience with you."

Suthanu and Bhanu exchanged startled glances. The arrival of a sage was an unexpected, rare occurrence. Without hesitation, they rose to their feet, curiosity mingled with respect. "Bring him in," Bhanu said, his tone reverent.

They hurried to the receiving hall, where the sage awaited them. He was a man of calm stature, his presence radiating a wisdom that seemed to transcend time. His face was warm but carried a serene authority, his eyes reflecting depths of knowledge.

Following the customs of their land, Suthanu and Bhanu stepped forward to greet him. They knelt and carefully poured water over his feet, offering him the rituals of welcome with the respect due to a sage.

The sage accepted the offering with a gentle smile, his eyes kind but discerning. When the formalities were complete, Bhanu and Suthanu stood and bowed deeply. "Welcome to Indraprastha, Rishivara. What can we do for you?" Bhanu asked.

The sage's gaze rested upon them, and though his expression remained calm, there was something beyond the surface—something ancient and profound. "I am but a student of the great Rishi Agastya," he said, his voice soft but resonant. "I have traveled here from Agastyakootam, sent by my guru with a message for you."

Bhanu's heart quickened at the mention of Rishi Agastya—the great sage of ancient times, one who had stood tall even in the days of Lord Rama. His wisdom was legendary, his knowledge unparalleled. To receive a message from him was no small matter.

The sage continued, "Rishi Agastya has sent me to inform you that he is prepared to accept Rajakumara Vajra into his ashrama if the young prince qualifies to be his student. The test will determine if he is ready to learn under the tutelage of the great Rishi."

Suthanu's breath caught. The name of Rishi Agastya carried immense weight. To have her son study under such a guru was not just an honor—it was an opportunity beyond anything they could have hoped for. 

Bhanu and Suthanu bowed deeply once more, their heart full of reverence. "It is our blessing , I will bring Vajra and Agastya to the ashrama at the earliest. I will deeply respect in every way ;  the results of the test but I hope both the boys will be given a chance for the test."

As the sage turned to leave after a thoughful nod, Suthanu placed her hand on Bhanu's arm, her voice quiet. "Our children are about to step into a world far greater than we ever imagined."

Bhanu nodded, his gaze following the sage as he departed. "They are. And we must be ready to let them go."

Suthanu, though her heart ached at the thought of Vajra facing the trials ahead, knew that this was the path he had chosen for himself - to be the protector. "Rishi Agastya will guide him. And he will grow, not just into a warrior, but into a man of wisdom."

Bhanu's voice was filled with deep belief on his child. "Yes. And one day, he will be ready to lead."

They knew that this was only the beginning of their son's journey—a journey that would shape the future of their land, and of their people.

Dwarka

Suthanu sat by the soft glow of a brass lamp, her delicate fingers tracing the intricate folds of the sacred thread that would soon rest on her son's shoulders. Her heart was a tumult of pride and sorrow, a mother's contradiction, knowing that her little boy would soon step into the world of men. In the corner of the room, Bhanu was overseeing the preparation of the ceremonial items, his hands steady but his eyes betraying the weight he carried in his chest.

"Is it too soon?" Suthanu's voice trembled, barely a whisper, as she turned to Bhanu. "I still see him as the boy who used to tug at my sari, asking for stories of his ancestors."

Bhanu smiled softly, his heart aching in unison with hers. "I see it too, every day. But the time has come for him to learn from the world, beyond what we can give. Rishi Agastya will guide him well. Vajra is not only our lal anymore." His voice held firm, yet beneath it, Suthanu could sense the sorrow he hid for her sake. His unspoken words hung in the air between them: We will miss him every moment he is gone.

Suthanu stood and walked towards him, her heart heavy with the inevitable. She placed her hand over his, her touch gentle yet full of the weight they both carried. "He will be far from us," she said, the words tasting bitter. "Agastyakootam feels like another world, Adi. He is still so young..."

Bhanu's hand wrapped around hers, steadying them both. "He carries within him the blood of the Pandavas and the Yadavas, and yet he is his own person. Lal will find his way, just as we have. And though Agastyakootam is far, our love will reach him, always Priyathama."

Though Suthanu's heart was a storm. She had carried Vajra within her, nursed him through his first cries, watched as he learned to walk, talk, and laugh. She had seen him become the center of their world, and now, this world felt too empty, too silent at the thought of his absence. She turned to the window where the horizon stretched endlessly, and for a moment, she wished she could stop time.

The preparations continued as dusk settled, painting the skies in hues of orange and purple. Bhanu was preparing the sacred fire for the rites, carefully placing the wood and offering grains while Suthanu held the turmeric paste that would soon adorn Vajra's skin. Each act, though mundane, held within it the vastness of their love for their son. They worked in silence, but their hearts spoke volumes.

When Bhanu finally placed the last piece of wood into the fire pit, he turned to Suthanu. "Priyathama , do you remember the day we named him?"

Suthanu's lips curved into a soft smile, though her eyes were wet. "How could I forget? That day, I saw your father's eyes light up like never before. Everyone were so happy in our families... It feels like just yesterday." She paused, her breath catching. "And now we send him away."

Bhanu nodded. "It is a parting, yes. But it is not an end. He will return stronger, wiser. We are not losing him, Thanu; we are watching him become the man he is meant to be."

Suthanu's heart ached with a mother's love. She knew Bhanu's words were true, but that didn't soften the sorrow of letting go. "How does one prepare for this?" she whispered, almost to herself.

Bhanu stepped closer, cupping her face gently. "By knowing that no matter how far he goes, he carries us with him Priyathama. We have given him everything we could. Now it is time to trust in him, in the path the gods have set for him."

Tears brimmed in Suthanu's eyes, and she let them fall. "I just... I will miss him, Adi. I will miss his laughter in the halls, his little hands in mine."

Bhanu's own voice trembled as he pulled her into his arms. "I will miss him too. More than words can say. But we are not losing him. We are giving him to the world."

Suthanu buried her face in Bhanu's chest, her tears soaking the fabric of his robe. For a moment, they stood there, bound in their shared grief and love. The quiet between them was broken by a soft, sweet voice.

"Ma, Pa," came the small lisp of Bhanumati toddling toward them with an uneven gait. Her little hands clutched a faded wooden doll, and her curious eyes sparkled with the innocence only a child her age could possess. Seeing the sadness on her parents' faces, she plopped herself between them, her tiny fingers reaching out to touch their cheeks.

Suthanu blinked through her tears as Bhanumati clumsily wiped them away with her small hands. "No cry," the child mumbled, her brow furrowed in concern. She then turned to Bhanu, her father, and with the simplicity of a child, pressed her doll into his hand, offering her most treasured possession as though it could take away his sorrow.

Suthanu could not help but let out a soft sob, half laughing through her tears at the innocence of her daughter. Bhanu, too, felt his heart squeeze, overwhelmed by the love in his little girl's gesture. Bhanumati tugged at her father's sleeve, her wide eyes shining with a fierce determination to make him smile. "Pa, smile," she insisted, her voice a gentle command.

Bhanu knelt to her level, pulling her into his arms. "I am smiling, my bangaram," he whispered, though his voice trembled.

But Bhanumati, in her childlike wisdom, knew better. She wiggled in his arms, squirming out until she stood between her parents, her little feet unsteady but her gaze resolute. "See?" she said, clapping her hands together, beaming up at them both. "Happy!"

Suthanu reached out, brushing a stray curl from her daughter's face, and in that moment, the heaviness in her heart softened. Bhanumati, barely two, did not know the meaning of separation, of farewells, or the ache of watching someone you love walk away. But she understood love. She understood that when someone cried, you comforted them. That when the world felt too heavy, she simply could simply give away her favorite doll to make it better for her parents.

As Suthanu's tears continued to flow, Bhanumati reached up with both arms and wrapped them around her mother's neck, planting a wet kiss on her cheek. "Ma no cry. Jyesh..Jyestha come back."

Suthanu's heart stilled. In her innocence, Bhanumati had uttered the words she herself needed to hear. Vajra will come back. But that didn't erase the pain of the parting to come. She clutched Bhanumati tighter, kissing the top of her daughter's head, as her tears fell onto the little girl's soft curls.

Bhanu sat beside them, his own heart heavy as he watched his two loves—their precious daughter and the woman who had given him everything—holding each other. His gaze moved to the preparations for the ceremony, the sacred fire waiting to be lit, the thread that would soon rest on Vajra's shoulder, the very thread that would signify his transition into a world that neither of them could protect him from.

"She's right, you know," Bhanu said softly, looking at Suthanu, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Lal will come back to us. He will always come back. But that doesn't mean this is any easier, does it?"

Suthanu nodded, her voice catching in her throat as she kissed Bhanumati's cheek again, the love for both her children threatening to break her heart. "No, it doesn't," she whispered, her hand reaching out to touch Bhanu's. "But somehow... she makes it bearable."

They sat there for a moment longer, holding on to the tiny life between them, as though in Bhanumati's innocence they could find the strength to let go of Vajra.

To be continued...

Giving a double update. Lol , don't ask me why. I am just in a mood. Will update once the target is reached in the previous , current and the next chapter. 

Target - 80 votes

Any suggestions , open to them. Always. 

Please do leave your votes and comments !