Hastinapura

The golden chariots rumbled softly on the dusty roads of Hastinapura, their wheels creaking under the weight of anticipation. Little Vajra stood wide-eyed at the edge of the chariot, his tiny hands clutching the golden railings as he peered out in awe. The grand city stretched before him, its towering gates and majestic spires glittering under the soft sunlight. He could barely contain his excitement.

The streets were alive with energy, a wave of joy surging through the crowds as they welcomed their Bhanu and Suthanu, their beloved children. Citizens gathered in droves, their eyes alight with reverence and affection. Flowers were scattered in the path of the chariot, filling the air with the scent of jasmine and roses. Women, men, and children alike folded their hands in respect, their voices mingling in harmonious greetings.

"Look! Look, maiya!" Vajra's voice, high and bubbling with excitement, pierced the warm air. He tugged at Suthanu's sari, pointing to the throngs of people cheering. "They're smiling at us! Why are they smiling, maiya?"

Suthanu glanced down at her son, her face softening at his innocent question. She exchanged a look with Bhanu, whose own face bore a gentle smile, his palms folded in humble gratitude to the crowd. Their people loved them deeply, a love forged through time, a bond built on loyalty to their lineage. Suthanu's heart swelled with emotion—these were her people, her home. She had returned to them after four long years, and the familiarity of it all both comforted and overwhelmed her.

"They're smiling because they love us, Lal," Suthanu whispered, kneeling beside him as the chariot slowed. Her voice trembled ever so slightly, a soft tremor hidden beneath her serene smile. "And because you, my son, are the grandson of those who brought peace to this land."

Vajra's eyes widened further, his wonder only growing. "But... they don't know me!" he exclaimed, his voice tinged with confusion and innocence.

Suthanu chuckled, cupping her son's cheek with a tenderness. "Oh, but they do, Lal. You were born in Hastinapura."

"No maiya , maybe because I am the son of their loving Rajkumari -,their daughter - my mother and their beloved prince - my father". 

Suthanu smiled in amusement before she whispered , " Who told you that?". 

" Pitamaha".

As the chariot came to a stop, the citizens surged forward, eager to lay their eyes on the little prince and their own children. Suthanu stepped down after Bhanu, her feet touching the sacred soil of Hastinapura after four years. A surge of emotions flooded her—joy, nostalgia and a bittersweet tinge of loss. Memories of the family she had left behind to begin her own life, all flooded back.

Bhanu beside her placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "It feels like yesterday, doesn't it?" he murmured, his voice low but full of understanding.

Suthanu nodded, her eyes misting as she looked toward the grand palace in the distance, where her family awaited her return. "Yes," she whispered, her voice catching. "But so much has changed."

Bhanu squeezed her hand gently, reminding her that though time had passed, the bonds that connected them remained unbroken.

"Maiya," Vajra's tiny voice pulled her back to the present. He had already clambered down from the chariot, his tiny feet bouncing with joy as he ran toward her. "Maiya, have we reached?"

Suthanu's heart fluttered at his question, her smile widening. She knelt down once more, pulling him into a gentle embrace. "Yes, Lal," she said, her voice warm and full of promise. "We have reached."

Yututsu - the son of Dhitirashtra had escorted them into the palace. Vajra's small feet padded softly against the polished marble floors, each step an echo in the vast place. The boy's heart was a fluttering bird inside his chest—he felt excitement, but it was the kind that bubbled up with a sense of wonder that only a child could carry.

The doors had been opened for him, and before him sat the legends of his mother's stories: his five grandfathers, each with a presence that filled the room in ways Vajra couldn't quite understand. To his young eyes, they were not the warriors or rulers he'd heard about in whispers; they were simply larger-than-life figures, radiant with a warmth he could already feel wrapping around him.

Yudhishthira, Bhima, Arjuna, Nakula, Sahadeva—and there, at the center of it all, was his grandmother, Draupadi, her eyes full of quiet strength and a tenderness reserved only for family. Each of them, despite the grandeur of their lineage, sat with smiles that brimmed with an unspoken joy at seeing the little boy after two years. Vajra's vague memories of them were like flickers of distant light, but here, standing before them, they began to take real shape.

With a little gasp of excitement, he bolted forward, his childish feet making a beeline to the nearest figure—Bhima. The gigantic warrior, who once tore mountains asunder, softened instantly, dropping to one knee with surprising gentleness. His massive arms opened wide, and Vajra leapt into them without hesitation.

"Matamaha!" Vajra's laughter rang out, high-pitched and joyous as Bhima scooped him up into the air with ease, the child's tiny arms outstretched like wings.

"Look at you! You're twice the size you were last I saw you!" Bhima exclaimed, spinning the boy around as laughter erupted from everyone in the room. Bhima's face, rough and scarred from battle, was alight with unbridled affection as he lifted Vajra higher and higher. The boy squealed in delight.

"And you'll be twice as strong as me before long, won't you, my little lion?" Bhima teased, bringing Vajra down to face him, his voice filled with pride and love. His enormous hands dwarfed the boy, yet his touch was as gentle as a breeze, holding Vajra as if he were the most precious treasure.

Vajra giggled, his eyes sparkling. "Stronger , Matamaha! I'll be the strongest if you bless me!" he declared with all the seriousness a four-year-old could muster, his little fists punching the air. Bhima's booming laughter filled the room, a sound that seemed to shake the very walls - of joy.

Arjuna, always watchful and ever the doting man, leaned forward from his seat, his eyes gleaming as he took in the sight of his grandson. "And quick like the wind, too, I hope," he said, his voice a smooth melody compared to Bhima's thunder. "Shall I teach you the bow, dulhara? You'll strike down your targets before they even see you coming."

Vajra turned toward him, his eyes widening in awe. "You'll teach me? Really, Matamaha?" he asked, his voice bubbling with excitement, already imagining himself standing tall, drawing back the string of a bow like the great archer before him.

Arjuna smiled, a deep joy shining through. He reached out, ruffling the boy's curly hair. "Of course. I would love to."

Draupadi watched it all, her heart swelling with joy at the sight of her grandchild, her soul lightened by the laughter that filled the chamber. She hadn't seen Vajra in two long years, and though time had flown by, the ache of that absence never left her heart. She looked on with a soft , loving gaze. 

As Bhima set Vajra down, the boy's gaze flicked across the room. His eyes landed on Yudhishthira, who sat at the far end, his hands folded in his lap, his face marked by quiet serenity. There was something about him that drew Vajra in, though he didn't quite understand it. He felt safe, as though a quiet wisdom surrounded his grandfather like a protective aura.

"Matamaha," Vajra whispered, his voice carrying the reverence of a child who knew he was standing in the presence of something far greater than himself. Yudhishthira smiled, the kind of smile that seemed to come from a place deeper than the heart.

"My little dulhara," Yudhishthira said in his calm, measured voice. "Come here."

Vajra crossed the room and climbed onto Yudhishthira's lap. The eldest Pandava wrapped his arms around the boy, holding him close. In his presence, Vajra felt an overwhelming calm, as though every worry and care in the world had melted away.

"I missed you, Matamaha," Vajra said softly, his cheek resting against Yudhishthira's chest.

Yudhishthira's arms tightened around him. "And I, you, my child," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "You are my light."

As the moment settled, Nakula and Sahadeva, who had been quietly watching, exchanged knowing glances. They too felt the gravity of the moment but were more inclined to ease the seriousness with playfulness.

"Now, little one," Nakula called, leaning forward, "Do you remember the last time you visited us? You stole my armlets and hid them in the garden!"

Vajra's eyes lit up with mischief. He didn't remember the specifics, but he knew his heart was always full of tricks. "Did I?" he giggled, looking at Nakula with wide, innocent eyes that sparkled with delight.

"Yes, you did," Sahadeva added, nodding with mock seriousness. "We spent hours looking for them while you watched from behind the bushes."

Vajra burst into laughter, his small body shaking with joy. "Maybe I'll do it again!" he teased, causing a ripple of amusement to spread through the room.

Nakula threw his hands up in mock defeat. "I knew it! We're doomed, Deva. He's just like his mother."

At that, Draupadi let out a soft, knowing laugh, her eyes twinkling as they met Suthanu's. "He is his mother's son, indeed," she said. "Full of spirit, just like she was at his age."

Suthanu, who had been quietly watching from the doorway, felt a wave of emotion wash over her. Seeing her fathers, her mother, and her son together in one room was overwhelming in the most beautiful way. She stepped forward, her eyes shimmering with tears she did not try to hide.

"I have missed you all," she said, her voice trembling with the weight of her emotions. "So much."

Yudhishthira rose to his feet, still holding Vajra, and came to her. "We have missed you, too, Bangaram. Our hearts have been heavy without you here." He placed his free hand gently on her cheek, and the years of separation seemed to dissolve in that touch.

One by one, the Pandavas and Draupadi gathered around Suthanu and Bhanu, embracing them both with a love that was as fierce and protective as it was tender. The family, who had lived through wars, loss, and separation, stood together once more, united by the love that transcended time and distance.

Vajra, still in Yudhishthira's arms, looked up at his mother, then at his grandfathers, and finally at Draupadi, who placed a gentle kiss on his forehead. He didn't understand what was happening, but he could feel it in his heart—a deep, unshakable love that filled every corner of the room.

"Are we home now, maiya?" Vajra asked softly, looking up at Suthanu, his voice small yet filled with a childlike certainty.

Suthanu smiled, happy tears coming to her eyes as she gazed down at him. "Yes, Lal," she whispered, her voice full of warmth. "We are home."

And in that moment, surrounded by yet other circle of people who loved him the most, Vajra felt the truth of Suthanu's words in every beat of his heart.

Vajra, his curiosity piqued by his mother's silence, tugged impatiently at the edge of her sari. "Maiya, who are we meeting now?" he asked, his voice full of the same excitement that had carried him through the day.

Suthanu looked down, smiling at her son's wide, questioning eyes. "We are going to meet your aunt , Uttara," she said gently, brushing a stray curl from his forehead. "And she has a son—a cousin brother for you. His name is Parikshit."

Vajra's eyes lit up at the mention of a cousin. "A cousin? Will he play with me?" The excitement in his voice was palpable.

Suthanu laughed softly. "I think he'll do more than that. He's just a little older than you."

As they reached the doorway, Uttara stood waiting for them. She was near a wide window, bathed in the amber glow of the setting sun, her posture elegant and her face serene, though her eyes betrayed the emotion she felt. When she saw Suthanu, her smile bloomed wide, and her heart seemed to leap across the space between them.

"Anu!" Uttara's voice rang out with warmth, her hands already reaching forward as Suthanu stepped through the threshold. The two women embraced, their arms wrapping around each other with a strength that only those who had been apart too long could understand.

Suthanu buried her face in Uttara's shoulder for a brief moment, her heart full. "Bhabhi," she whispered, "I have missed you so much."

Uttara pulled back just enough to meet Suthanu's gaze, her hands resting on Suthanu's arms, holding her close. "It has been too long, Anu. But now you are here, and it feels like the sun has returned to this palace."

They smiled at each other, their bond palpable, before Uttara turned her gaze downward to the small boy hiding slightly behind Suthanu's sari. She knelt to his level, her eyes shining with warmth and affection.

"And this must be little Vajra," she said softly, her voice as gentle as a caress. Vajra peered up at her, his mischievous eyes studying this new face with curiosity.

Uttara smiled wider. "I've heard so much about you, little one. You are even more handsome than I imagined." She extended her hand to place it on his cheek. "I'm your aunt, Uttara."

Vajra, after a moment of hesitation, broke into a grin as he quickly touched her feet. "I'm Vajra," he announced proudly before rising as he Uttara's palm on his head. "Are you really my mātulī?"

"Yes, my Rajkumar," Uttara said, her voice bubbling with laughter. "And I have someone very special for you to meet."

With a nod, she beckoned toward the doorway behind her, and Parikshit appeared. A slight figure with wide, curious eyes, Parikshit stepped forward with a quiet confidence, his movements graceful but sure. He was taller than Vajra, his gaze calm and assessing, but beneath it was the innocence of a child still learning his place in the world. Suthanu smiled at Parikshit , he resembled Uttara and Abhimanyu in so many ways that one needn't even look closely. 

He was about to touch Suthanu's feet before she pulled him into a warm embrace. Parikshit smiled as he drew back. 

Parikshit turned, his eyes meeting Vajra's. For a heartbeat, the two cousins simply looked at each other, as if sizing one another up, neither of them moving.

Suthanu and Uttara exchanged knowing smiles. 

"Go on, Lal," Uttara encouraged gently. "Introduce yourself to your brother."

Parikshit took a step forward. "I'm Parikshit," he said, his voice quiet but steady. He extended his hand, a tentative smile forming on his lips.

Vajra grinned widely and ignored the formal greeting. Instead, he rushed forward and threw his arms around Parikshit in an exuberant hug, startling his cousin with the force of his affection. "Bhrata Parikshit!" Vajra declared. "You're my cousin brother! Do you want to play?"

Parikshit blinked, momentarily stunned, but then his smile grew, and he hugged Vajra back with a gentleness. "Yes," he said simply, his eyes lighting up. "Let's play."

And just like that, the bond between them was sealed. The two boys laughed and tugged at each other's hands, already exchanging words of adventure and secrets. Without waiting for another word, Vajra pulled Parikshit toward the door, his energy infectious.

"Come on! We can hide in the garden!" Vajra exclaimed, his excitement spilling over. "I'm the best at hiding."

Parikshit, catching onto his cousin's mischievous nature, gave a small, knowing smile. "The garden? I know the best places to hide. You'll never find me."

"Oh, we'll see about that Bhrata!" Vajra laughed, his eyes gleaming with playful challenge as they ran out into the courtyard, their laughter ringing through the palace corridors.

"Careful , you two" , Suthanu screamed after them with a smile. The two boys were full of life and love. 

"Why do I feel they're going to get into so much trouble together in future?," Uttara said with a chuckle, wiping at her eyes, though her laughter was laced with tears.

Suthanu laughed through her own tears. "Just like myself and Bhratas, I suppose. Yet those are the best times I have had."

 "They are always with you , Anu." , Uttara pulled Suthanu gently into her embrace. 

 "I miss them every day , Bhabhi. I miss them", Suthanu whispered,  " But , every day I remind myself that they continue to live over in my hearts , in my families and in this Samrajya of Dharma."

"Pramātāmahī! " Vajra squealed as he spotted two elderly women seated in the courtyard, their faces lighting up at the sight of the little boy. Suthanu , Bhanu , Pandavas and Draupadi followed behind. 

Kunti's heart swelled with emotion, seeing her great-grandchild run towards her. She opened her arms wide, and Vajra leapt into her embrace, nestling against her with the ease of a child who instinctively knew he was safe. His small arms wrapped around her neck, his head resting on her chest as he gazed up at her with wide, curious eyes.

"You are so soft, Pramātāmahī," he said, his voice innocent and pure. "Like the lotus , I offer to Lord Mahavishnu!"

Kunti chuckled, her frail fingers gently brushing through his wild curls. "And you, little one, are like the wind—always moving, always free."

Vajra's eyes sparkled as he turned to look at Gandhari, who sat silently beside Kunti, her face hidden behind the ever-present blindfold. He tilted his head in confusion, inching closer to her. 

"Why do you wear that, Pramātāmahī?" he asked, his tiny hands reaching out to touch the edges of her veil.

Gandhari's lips trembled into a faint smile. "I wear this because I chose to , child," she whispered, her voice filled with both pain and peace , "But I can still see you, with my heart" .

"Choice?" Vajra echoed very softly, his brow furrowing. But he remembered Suthanu's words , ' Little one , knowledge comes slowly. Let not your curiosity become a trouble to the elders back to Hastinapura '. 

Vajra thought for a moment, his fingers now fiddling with the end of Kunti's saree. His childlike mind, ever curious, didn't grasp the gravity of Gandhari's words, but he felt the warmth in her tone, the love hidden behind the blindfold, and that was enough for him. So he let the question pass. 

Vidura, who had been observing quietly, now stepped forward. His old eyes sparkled with affection as he bent down to Vajra's level. "And do you know who I am, Rajkumar?" he asked, his voice soft but firm.

Vajra looked at him, wide-eyed. "You must be the wisest in the room , Pramātāmahaḥ!" he declared, causing everyone around to laugh still marvel at the child's mind to know each of them. Suthanu and Bhanu had taught him so well. 

Vidura chuckled, his hand resting gently on Vajra's shoulder. "Wise, perhaps, but not as wise as you, little one. Someday, you will be wiser than all of us."

The child's face lit up with pride, puffing out his chest. "I will try to Pramātāmahaḥ with your blessing , Pita says learning from you is like learning from the God of Justice" he smiled sweetly. Vidura looked at Bhanu who smiled softly. 

Finally, Vajra's curious eyes wandered towards a figure seated in the shadows—Dhritirashtra. His back was straight, his face drawn in solemn silence. He sat still, as though carrying the weight of a world long lost.

Vajra, unperturbed by the heaviness in the air, skipped over to him. "And you must be my Pramātāmahaḥ too - the previous ruler of this great land!" he said excitedly, tugging at the edge of Dhritirashtra's angavastram.

Dhritirashtra's hand trembled as he reached out, his blind eyes searching for the child's presence. Vajra, with the innate understanding only a child could possess, placed his small hand into the older man's. Dhritirashtra's fingers closed around it, and in that moment, something softened in his heart. He pulled Vajra closer, lifting him onto his lap, holding him with a tenderness that belied his strength.

For a long moment, the room was quiet, as if the palace itself held its breath. Dhritirashtra's grip tightened, and without warning, a tear slipped down his weathered cheek. He broke into tears. 

Vajra looked up, noticing the tear before anyone else. His little fingers touched Dhritirashtra's face, wiping it away with the clumsy tenderness only a child could offer. "Why are you crying, Pramātāmahaḥ?" he asked, his voice soft with concern.

Dhritirashtra's breath hitched, the words caught in his throat. Memories of his sons—Duryodhana, Dusshasana, and the others—flooded his mind. Their faces, their voices, their laughter... all gone. He could feel their absence in the very marrow of his bones, a weight he had carried for years.

"I miss them, little one," he whispered unknowingly, his voice thick with emotion. "I miss my sons."

Vajra frowned, his little brow furrowed in confusion. "Where are they? Why aren't they here with you? Why did maiya and pita never tell me about them?"

Dhritirashtra couldn't speak as he realized he revealed something he shouldn't have. He simply held the boy closer, his blind eyes staring into the void - a grave mistake again. 

At that moment, the room fell into an eerie silence. Suthanu and Bhanu, who had been watching from the side, froze in place, their faces pale. No , the truth of the war was massive for the heart of their child at this moment. His heart was tender and mind with an eye to see only white and black - the complexities of the grey world are too large for him. The cause of the war was very critical , it would tear apart his soul. 

The Pandavas, too, stood still, a grim shadow passing over their faces. Each of them remembered the war, the bloodshed, and the lives lost but they also remembered their own faults and the wretched game of dice. 

Vajra, sensing the sudden heaviness, looked around the room, his innocent eyes wide and confused. He tugged at Dhritirashtra's sleeve again. "Where are they, Pramātāmahaḥ? Why don't you bring them back? Maiya. Pita." Vajra turned to Suthanu and Bhanu. 

Dhritirashtra let out a shuddering breath, unable to answer. His arms went loose around Vajra as the latter jumped out and ran towards Suthanu. 

" Maiya? ".

To be continued...

A long chapter , I guess. 

How is the story proceeding? How were little Vajra and Parikshit? 

What is going to happen , next? 

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