Hastinapura

In a quieter chamber,  Vajra sat on a cushioned seat, his legs swinging back and forth. Draupadi sat beside him, gently running her fingers through his soft hair as Yudhishthira watched from across the room, a fond smile playing on his lips.

Vajra looked up at Draupadi, his face filled with innocent curiosity. "Mātāmahī," he asked, his voice small, "Matamaha told me about Pramatamaha but I forgot to ask where is he?"

Draupadi paused, her hand stilling in his hair for a brief moment before she smiled softly, her heart heavy with the weight of the question. Yudhishthira watched closely, he knew Draupadi would manage like she had always done and he loved listening to her. 

Draupadi bent down slightly, meeting Vajra's gaze, her eyes soft and kind. "Dulhara," she began gently, "have you ever seen a star in the sky?"

Vajra nodded eagerly, his little eyes lighting up. "Yes! I see them every night."

She smiled. "And do you know what happens when the sun rises?"

Vajra furrowed his brow, thinking for a moment. "The stars disappear."

"Yes," Draupadi continued, her voice tender, "but they don't really disappear, do they? Even though we can't see them, they are still there, shining just as brightly. They're watching over us, even when we can't see them with our eyes."

Vajra tilted his head, his eyes wide with wonder. "So... is Pramatamaha like a star?"

Draupadi's heart warmed at his innocent understanding. "Yes, little one. Pita is like a star. Though we may not see him with our eyes, he's still with us, watching over us from where he is now. He left us so that he could shine in a different place."

Vajra's little face softened with understanding, and he smiled. "So he's not gone?"

"No," Draupadi said softly, "he's not gone. He's just where we can't see him, but his light still reaches us."

Vajra's heart swelled at the thought, and he looked up at Yudhishthira. "Matamaha, did Pramatamaha go far away to shine like the stars?"

Yudhishthira's voice was thick with emotion as he nodded. "Yes, dulhara. He went far away, but he never stopped caring for us. His love is still here, with us, in every moment."

Vajra's young heart accepted with a smile, his mind filling with the image of his great-grandfather shining in the sky like the stars. He reached out and hugged Draupadi, his small arms wrapping around her tightly.

"Thank you, Mātāmahī," he whispered, his voice filled with love. "I understand now."

As he nestled into her embrace, Draupadi's eyes met Yudhishthira's across the room, a silent understanding passing between them. They had shielded the boy's innocence for now, allowing him to hold onto his joy and wonder for just a little longer. 

The meaning of death was still not for him at the moment. 

The moon had risen high, casting a cool silver glow over the palace of Hastinapura. The night was calm, but the air carried an unusual stillness. Inside the royal chambers, Yudhishthira rested. Beside him, Draupadi rested with little Vajra curled up between them, his tiny chest rising and falling in deep, innocent slumber.

The room was quiet except for the occasional crackle of the torches flickering along the walls before all of them went off . Yudhishthira's hand absently rested on Vajra's small back, his heart full of warmth at the presence of his grandchild. 

Suddenly, a soft rustle in the corner of the room caught Yudhishthira's attention as he opened his eyes almost immediately. His eyes, sharp and focused, darted toward the source. The glint of metal reflected in the dim light, and before his mind could process the threat, a blade was directed towards the sleeping Vajra.

With lightning-fast reflexes, Yudhishthira's hand shot out, not to catch the hilt but the blade itself. The cold steel bit into his flesh, the sharp edge cutting through skin and muscle as he gripped it tightly, his fingers curling around the sword's deadly surface just inches away from Vajra's sleeping form. Blood began to seep between his fingers, but Yudhishthira didn't flinch. With a swift push, he threw the attacker back, keeping his movements controlled so as not to wake the child.

The intruder stumbled but regained his balance, his eyes flashing with fury. Yudhishthira rose to his feet in one smooth motion, his hand still gripping the sword tightly though now from the hilt. His eyes blazed with a rare intensity—a primal, protective rage that surged within him at the thought of harm befalling his grandchild. The intruder's breath hitched as Yudhishthira, without uttering a word, moved to silence him.

But the assassin was quick. He twisted, his movements sharp and desperate, and as he did, his arm knocked against a nearby  water jar. The golden jar toppled, crashing to the ground with a loud shatter. Water spilled across the floor, and the noise jolted Draupadi and Vajra awake.

Vajra sat up, rubbing his eyes, his tiny voice filled with sleep. "Matamahi?" he called softly, his gaze moving toward the scene in confusion.

Draupadi's heart raced, and in an instant, she moved to shield Vajra, her arms encircling him protectively as Yudhishthira stood over the fallen jar, his eyes burning with fury. The intruder took advantage of the distraction and lunged forward again, but Yudhishthira, now fully enraged, swung his sword with lethal precision. His blade cut through the air, and without hesitation, he struck the assassin down in a single, brutal motion.

Draupadi's hands quickly moved to cover Vajra's eyes as the assassin fell lifeless to the ground. Her heart pounded, but she whispered soothing words into her grandson's ear, trying to calm him as his curious mind tried to understand what was happening. "Shh, little one," she said softly. "It's nothing."

But before she could say more, the sound of rushing footsteps filled the room. The door burst open, and twenty armed men flooded inside, swords gleaming under the dim light. Yudhishthira's face hardened, his body moving instinctively into a defensive stance. His protective instinct surged again, and without a second thought, he charged toward them with the ferocity of a lion defending its den.

Draupadi held Vajra tighter, pulling him close to her chest. The boy, his heart racing, peeked through her arms, his innocent eyes wide with wonder as the battle erupted before him. Yudhishthira was swift, his sword cutting through the air with a speed and precision born of years on the battlefield. The men charged at him, but he parried their strikes effortlessly, his blade moving with deadly grace. Though it had been close to six years since Yudhisthira had lifted the sword for a fight , nothing had reduced. 

Just as one of the attackers moved to strike Yudhishthira from behind, a sharp cry rang through the air. Suthanu, her eyes fierce and determined, lunged forward, her sword clashing with the assassin's just in time. "Pita!" she called, her voice strong as steel. 

Yudhishthira, though in the throes of battle, felt a surge of love for his daughter as she stood by his side, fighting as fiercely as she had been taught. If Suthanu had not picked up the sword in the last few years , it would be lie since every brahmamuhurta she had never given up on her practise. Together, Suthanu and Yudhisthira moved in perfect harmony, their swords flashing as they defended their family. 

On the bed, Vajra squirmed in Draupadi's arms, trying to see more of the battle unfolding before him. His small, curious eyes took in the sight of his mother and grandfather fighting side by side, their movements swift and powerful. The child's heart beat faster, not in fear, but in awe at the strength and courage he saw in them. It was new to him to see his mother fight like a lioness that he had often heard in the stories of his father. 

Yudhishthira's sword slashed through another attacker. He would not allow harm to come to his family, not tonight, not ever. His strikes were relentless, each one carrying the weight of his love for Vajra and the family he had vowed to protect.

Suthanu matched her father's pace, her sword a blur as she defended against the remaining men. Her breath came in steady, controlled bursts as she moved with purpose, her eyes never leaving the fight.

As the last of the attackers fell, silence fell once again in the royal chamber. Yudhishthira stood amidst the fallen attackers, his sword still gripped tightly in his hand, his breath ragged from the ferocity of the fight. Beside him, Suthanu's chest heaved with exertion, but her eyes softened when she looked toward her son, Vajra, and Draupadi, who had shielded the child throughout the chaos.

Suddenly, the door swung open, and Bhanu rushed into the room, followed closely by Arjuna, their eyes wide with alarm as they took in the scene before them. The bodies of the fallen attackers lay strewn across the floor, the air still heavy with the scent of battle.

"What happened?" Bhanu's voice was thick with urgency as his gaze darted between Yudhishthira, Suthanu, and Draupadi, finally settling on little Vajra, who still clung to Draupadi's side.

Arjuna scanned the room, assessing the situation with his keen eyes. His bow, always ready, was lowered slightly as he took in the lifeless bodies. "Call for the generals right now and clean up the chambers immediately" he growled, his hand still on his quiver before he rushed out. There were remains of men who stuck to be loyal to their previous crown prince over the years they slowly removed a few from the path and some had reformed. But this did not mean it was men of them , it was something deeper and Arjuna wanted to solve the riddle that dared to cause harm to his family. 

Suthanu dropped her sword, the clatter on the stone floor reverberating through the room as she rushed to Vajra. Kneeling beside him, her hands trembled as they moved over his small form, checking him for any sign of harm, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

"Are you hurt?" Her voice was soft, but it carried the weight of a thousand fears. Her hands frantically brushed over his arms and face, her heart only beginning to slow when she found no injury. "Please tell me you're alright, Lal."

The little boy, still confused and shaken, blinked up at her with wide eyes, sensing the tension around him. "I'm fine, maiya," he whispered, though his voice was soft.

Behind them, Yudhishthira stood still, but his eyes betrayed the turmoil inside him. His heart ached not just from the battle, but from seeing his little grandson—the one for whom he had fought so fiercely to protect—standing there, with a rare silence. He would have nearly lost everything tonight.

But it was Vajra whose eyes were fixed on something. His little eyes widened as they caught the glint of red on Yudhishthira's hand—the blood dripping slowly from the gash where the sword had grazed him. "Matamaha!" Vajra's voice cracked with fear as he ran from Suthanu's side, his small hands reaching out toward Yudhishthira. "You're hurt!"

" Pita " , Bhanu whispered in worry as he stood beside Yudhisthira.

Yudhishthira looked down, startled by the child's alarm. He had barely felt the pain, but now, with his grandson's worried voice filling the room, it was impossible to ignore. He instinctively hid his bleeding hand behind him, trying to protect Vajra from the sight. "It's nothing, dulhara. Just a small scratch."

But Vajra's face crumpled, and he began to sob. His innocent heart couldn't bear the thought of his beloved grandfather in pain. "No!" he cried, his voice trembling as tears streamed down his face. "You're bleeding. You're hurt!"

Bhanu stepped forward quickly and scooped Vajra into his arms, holding him close in an attempt to soothe him. "Shh, little one," Bhanu whispered gently, his voice thick with emotion as he looked at Yudhisthira. "Your Matamaha is strong. He's going to be alright."

But the child's sobs didn't stop. His small hands reached out toward Yudhishthira, tears falling freely as he clung to Bhanu. "Matamaha is hurt, Pita. He's hurt!" Vajra's voice was raw with emotion, his innocent heart breaking at the sight of his beloved grandfather's blood.

Suthanu rushed to retrieve the medicinal herbs. Her heart raced as she returned, kneeling before Yudhishthira as she gestured him to sit in the nearby royal couch. For a moment, she paused, her eyes locking with his. The weight of everything he had done for her, everything he had sacrificed, rushed over her. This was the man who had protected her all her life, who now, even in his later years, shielded her child with the same ferocity. The sight of him injured, of him still carrying that burden for her, brought tears to her eyes.

She could no longer hold back her emotion. "Pita," she whispered, her voice breaking as she gently took his hand in hers. The blood still trickled slowly, but it wasn't the wound that made her cry—it was the love, the unwavering protection he had always given her though his hurt - hurt her the same. "You're still the same... always protecting us , protecting me."

Yudhishthira swallowed hard, the danger that lurked around his daughter's life worried him. He reached out with his uninjured hand, brushing a tear from her cheek. "I will always protect you, Bangaram," he said softly. "Always."

Her hands shook as she began to clean the wound, her tears falling silently onto the cloth she wrapped around his hand. Her father—the one who had taught her strength, who had been her shield—was now the one she was tending to. And yet, despite the years, he remained her protector, always.

As Suthanu worked carefully, Yudhishthira's eyes softened. He looked down at Vajra, still sobbing quietly in Bhanu's arms, and his heart broke a little more. His grandson, so young, so innocent, should never have had to witness such fear.

"Come here, dulhara," Yudhishthira called softly, his voice full of warmth and love. "I'm alright, see? Don't cry."

Bhanu gently set Vajra down on Yudhishthira's lap, and the boy, with his tear-streaked face, immediately wrapped his small arms around his grandfather's neck, holding him tightly. His chest heaved with leftover sobs, but slowly, the warmth of Yudhishthira's embrace soothed his fears.

"I'm scared because of your hurt, Matamaha," Vajra whispered between shaky breaths. His small voice quivered with a deep sadness no child should have to feel. "I... I don't want anyone to hurt you."

Yudhishthira's heart swelled with emotion, a deep ache forming in his chest as he hugged Vajra closer, kissing the boy's head softly. "Oh, dulhara, you are my brave boy. You don't need to be scared. I am strong, and with you beside me, nothing can ever harm me."

Vajra sniffed, pulling back slightly to look into Yudhishthira's eyes, his own shining with a fierce determination, despite the tears still clinging to his lashes. "But I will fight too!" he declared, his voice rising with sudden resolve. "Anyone who dares to cause you harm... I'll fight them! I will!"

Before Yudhishthira or Bhanu could react, Vajra wriggled out of his grandfather's lap and darted across the room. His small hands reached for one of the swords discarded on the floor, the same blade Yudhishthira had used to fend off the attackers. The weapon was far too heavy for a boy of his age, but Vajra strained and sweated, his face scrunched in concentration as he tried to lift it.

Yudhishthira's eyes widened, a mix of concern and admiration flashing through him. "Vajra!" he called, his voice firm but still gentle. Suthanu could not move her eyes away from Vajra. 

But Vajra, with a determined grunt, finally managed to raise the sword, its sharp edge gleaming under the faint torchlight. He stood there, wobbling under its weight but triumphant, his eyes gleaming with resolve. 

" Matamaha , I will fight to always keep you smiling. I will fight so that you never get hurt again " , Vajra announced. 

Bhanu, who had been watching with a stunned expression, quickly rushed forward, his heart pounding. "Lal!" he cried, gently but urgently taking the sword from his son's trembling hands before any harm could come to him.

Vajra, out of breath and flushed, blinked up at his father, his small chest heaving with exertion. "But... but Pita," he said, his voice small now, his earlier resolve giving way to the innocence of his young age.

Bhanu knelt down and pulled Vajra into his arms, hugging him tightly. His voice softened, though his heart still raced from the sight of his child wielding such the weapon. It was not about weilding one but for the cause he had raised the weapon. The cause that every Kshtraiya rises the weapon for. 

 " I will myself teach you when the right time comes , Lal," Bhanu whispered, his tone filled with love. "But for now , calm down."

Vajra rested his head on Bhanu's shoulder, his little arms wrapping around his father's neck, his energy finally spent. The sword clattered to the ground from Bhanu's free hand as Bhanu held his son close, rubbing his back gently to soothe him. 

Vajra, now calmer in Bhanu's arms, turned to look at his grandfather once more. "I love you, Matamaha," he said softly, his voice almost a whisper.

Yudhishthira's heart melted at those words. He extended his hand, now wrapped in clean bandages, to his grandson. "And I love you, dulhara," he replied tenderly. "More than you could ever know."

But Suthanu stood shaken by the turn of events , her son lifting the sword still stood in front of her eyes. She turned the one sole person who understood her in this situation , her own mother Draupadi who looked at her gently. 

Suthanu stood by the window, staring out into the night, her heart heavy, her mind racing. The sight of Vajra raising the sword haunted her more than the attack itself. She wasn't trembling from the danger her son had faced—no, her fear was deeper. It was the reason behind his action that unsettled her soul. She had seen the determination in his innocent eyes, the fire of protection, a spark too fierce for a child so young.

Her son, her sweet, playful Vajra, had lifted a weapon not out of fear but out of an instinct to protect - protect in the form of violence. And that terrified her. He was just a boy, but in that moment, he had tried to be something more. The world he was beginning to see wasn't the world of laughter and love she had so desperately wanted for him. It was a world where swords were raised, where violence was chosen as the first response, where even a child felt the burden of protection.

Her chest tightened, tears threatening to spill, but she held them back. She didn't want to show her vulnerability, didn't want anyone to know how deeply shaken she was. But the image of him gripping that sword, trying so hard to lift it—it was burned into her mind.

Draupadi's quiet footsteps echoed through the chamber, and Suthanu turned just as her mother approached. Draupadi's face was soft, understanding. She had seen everything. And though Suthanu tried to steel herself, the flood of emotions she had been holding back poured out as Draupadi took her hand and gently led her to sit.

"Maiya," Suthanu whispered, her voice trembling but her fear clear, "He lifted the sword. Not out of fear for himself, but for us. For me, for his grandfather. How can I... how can I be alright with the thought of him inferring that violence was the way for protection?"

Draupadi looked at her, her own heart aching as she listened. "It's not the act of lifting the sword that scares you, is it, Bangaram?" she asked quietly. "It's the path that comes after. The path you fear he might walk down."

Suthanu nodded, her throat tightening. "Yes. I've seen what happens to those who grow up learning to protect with violence. I've seen what it does to the soul. He's just a boy, maiya. And yet... tonight, I saw in him the beginning of something I'm not ready for. A sense of duty... of responsibility that no child at this age should bear. How can I stop him from becoming someone who feels like he must always fight?"

Draupadi reached out, brushing a tear from Suthanu's cheek. Her eyes were filled with the wisdom of someone who had lived through more battles than she cared to remember. "You cannot stop the world from showing him its truths, Bangaram. The world we live in—it's harsh, it's unforgiving. But you are his mother. And though you cannot protect him from every danger, you can guide his heart."

Suthanu's lip quivered. "But how? How do I guide him when I'm terrified of the journey he might take? When I've seen how men... even those with the best of intentions, lose themselves in this idea of protection, of power."

Draupadi's gaze softened, filled with love and empathy. She had seen too many of the men she loved succumb to that very path, but she also knew a deeper truth. "The world has its way of forcing responsibility onto young shoulders far too soon, but Bangaram, it is not the act of lifting the sword that shapes a person. It is what comes after. What you teach him when he is not holding the sword. That is what will make all the difference."

Suthanu looked down, her voice trembling. "I don't want him to think that violence is the answer , maiya. But if even a child like Vajra feels like he must take up a sword to protect us... then how do I teach him otherwise?"

Draupadi took a deep breath. "You teach him that protection is more than wielding a weapon. You teach him that there is strength in wisdom, in kindness, in compassion and in patience. That his greatest weapon is not the sword, but his heart and mind. He may feel the weight of responsibility now, but it's up to you and Bhanu to show him that the strength of a protector lies not in how he fights but in how he chooses to act before a fight even begins."

Suthanu's tears began to flow freely now, and she didn't try to stop them. "But how can I be sure, Mata? How can I be sure that the world won't harden him... that he won't become like those who see violence as the only way?"

Draupadi smiled gently. "Because, Bangaram, he is your son. He is the son of Bhanu and the grandson of the Pandavas and Krishna. He comes from a line of men who, despite their battles, were not defined by their wars but by their hearts. Sakha is defined for his morality and compassion over any battle. Your father is remembered for his justice, his kind heart. And Bhanu, carries that same light. Moreover Thanu , you yourself are a Veerangana. It is within Vajra, too. That light—your love, your guidance—will be what shields him from the darkness."

Suthanu looked at Draupadi, her heart swelling with emotion, her fear still present but softened by Draupadi's words. She reached out, taking Draupadi's hands in hers. "I don't know if I can do this alone , maiya."

"You don't have to," Draupadi said softly. "You are not alone. Bhanu is by your side, as am I, as are your fathers and back in Dwarka , the whole family. We will all guide him together, Bangaram. Vajra will rise as an ideal warrior but he will be a very fine man. Trust that. Trust yourself."

Suthanu's breath shuddered as she nodded, her heart still heavy but no longer alone in its weight. "Thank you maiya," Suthanu whispered, her voice soft but filled with gratitude.

Draupadi held her close, her own heart swelling with the depth of their shared bond. "We mothers... we are warriors too. Our battles are fought in the quiet moments, in the choices we make for our children. And in that, Bangaram, you are stronger than any sword. You are my Veergana , the fire born from this fire-born ! "

So it was close to time , her son has chosen his path and made his first step. But she had to guide him to make the right choices in this journey of life. 

To be continued...

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Call of the sword , isn't it? Often destiny finds to make it's path in the same path we avoid to take. 

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