Chapter 2
[NOCOPY]
Hi My Dear SwaSanian Pals
First of all, wish you all a Very Happy New Year! Hope 2016 brings us all much joy, love, peace and prosperity.
I am back with the sequel OS to "Dyuta Parva"-- which is in the post above.
As I have been on holiday for the past several days, my work on this OS has been necessarily on the sly 
, as my Hubby and my Bro would have both killed me had I been typing this away merrily instead of family time. So I have been religiously typing away in the ungodly pre-dawn hours. What to do, SwaSan obsession has completely infected me!Anyway, this part has wound up longer than I expected, so I am posting Karna Parva--Day 16 here. Day 17 will follow in (I hope
) 3 to 4 days max. For those who haven't read "Dyuta Parva", it would make more sense if you read that first, and then this one.Trio of quick things I wanted to mention:
1) Lots of buddies had asked me if I feel Sanskaar is completely like Karna from the Mahabharata. Well, the answer is No, not completely. There are a lot of similarities, parallels that I see. But I feel he has has many attributes of a couple of other Very Significant personalities from this Great epic as well. As to Who those other two are, I leave it to you to decide.
2) I am not attempting to completely draw parallels between the Mahabharata and the serial. It would take a bevy of authors of far greater caliber than I possess to do that, and they could still fall short.
This is just a humble attempt from my side to explore what limited references and parallels I can draw. Needless to say, the plot will not (and cannot) precisely mirror the epic.3) This OS series departs considerably from the current serial plotline. In particular, it will not feature the resurrected/ humshakal Kavita, as I cannot identify with that inane plot in any shape or form whatsoever.
I do hope you will like the "alternate reality" of the serial plotline I have attempted to portray. Do let me know. As always, your feedback means a great deal.
Karna Parva--Day 16
I seem to have loved you in numberless forms, numberless times...
In life after life, in age after age, forever.
My spellbound heart has made and remade the necklace of songs,
That you take as a gift, wear round your neck in your many forms,
In life after life, in age after age, forever.
You and I have floated here on the stream that brings from the fount.
At the heart of time, love of one for another.
We have played along side millions of lovers,
Shared in the same shy sweetness of meeting,
the distressful tears of farewell,
Old love but in shapes that renew and renew forever.
Today it is heaped at your feet, it has found its end in you
The love of all man's days both past and forever:
Universal joy, universal sorrow, universal life.
The memories of all loves merging with this one love of ours -
And the songs of every poet past and forever."
-----Unending Love, Rabindranath Tagore
Part 1: The battle lines are drawn
Day 16 : Sunday, December 27, 2015.
8 am, Maheshwari House Garden
Sanskaar was crouching on his haunches, next to the row of pots in which his favorite plants, the Cattleya orchids, were planted. Their maali had earlier apologetically told him that some of the plants seemed to have developed rot in their roots, and he was worried how to restore them to health.
Sanskaar had developed a keen interest in gardening as a hobby, right from his pre teen years. It gave him a sense of peace, of fulfillment, to tend to plants and see them blossom with myriad of resplendent, vivacious blooms. It drew on his sense of focus, of a single minded dedication, which had always been one of his greatest strengths, even as a boy.
He was particularly attached to these orchids, their lovely petals enthralling in their creamy, almost ivory like iridescence when the sunlight shone on them. And overlaying that beautiful color were the subtle, delicate shades of peach and cameo pink. As Sanskaar changed the earth in the pots, guiding the maali with the re potting and mixing of organic manure in the soil, he reflected, with a lopsided half grin to himself, that the Cattleya blooms reminded him so much of his wife's peaches and cream complexion.
The last fortnight had seen a gradual, but steady rapprochement between them, with Swara making her adoration for him, her determination to win his trust back, quietly but firmly clear. She hadn't hounded him with any kind of loud protestations or vociferous avowals either. On that momentous day a fortnight ago, she had clearly told him how much she loved him, and how she would always put his interests and feelings foremost, just as he did for her. And after that, she had displayed her emotions through her actions, steady and unwavering in her support, loving and caring in her obvious affection towards him. Their strained friendship was robustly on its feet again, with both of them keenly aware of their deeper, underlying feelings for each other.
His tender musings on Swara were interrupted by the very object of his thoughts, walking over to the wrought iron table and chairs that were laid out by the garden. She held a pair of gardening gloves out to him, frowning at him vexedly for having forgotten to put them on. As he smiled at her, and compliantly pulled the gloves on after brushing his palms clean, she indicated the other reason why she'd come out---she had brought him a mug of steaming adrak and elaichi chai. He had come to love this beverage, he thought with a grin. Chatting over everything from the sublime to the mundane, over piping mugs of tea brewed by her, had become an indispensable part of their morning routine for months.
They sat in companionable silence, sipping their tea and looking out over the peaceful vista of their garden, enveloped by the heady fragrance of plumeria, kamini and parijata blossoms. The grove of Tabebuia trees nearby was in glorious, riotous bloom, and the fallen star shaped flowers, in every conceivable shade of pink to mauve to lavender and purple, carpeted the grass beneath.
Neither was bothered about the baleful glare directed at them from above. Ragini had stepped decorously out to the balcony of her room, wanting to soak in the mild winter sun and the bracing morning breeze, but had been struck with a violent attack of spite and jealousy, seeing the contented tableau in the garden seats below.
Her mouth curled in angry malevolence. She had tried every trick in the book, these past 15 days, to ride roughshod over the defenses which Sanskaar had arrayed about their business and finances, with his customary, near-military precision. But she had come up short each time. She had cunning and guile on her side, but Sanskaar had not only unwavering focus, but also perspective, and a strategic plan of action.
Ragini thought sourly to herself, that had Sanskaar contended himself with just being predictable and dependable, in his plan of rescue of Maheshwari Karma & Sons, she could have worsted him with a hand tied behind her back. But Sanskaar was anything but a dull plodder. He had run circles around Ragini and her hired lawyers desperate to find loopholes. He was by turns manipulative and mercurial, but always brilliantly imaginative. He had his wits about him at all times, and he knew and understood both the letter, and the spirit of the law.
Ragini had first demanded that her share of the firm's profits be paid to her immediately, hoping to cause a liquidity crisis for the business. Since Durga Prasad had transferred his interest in the firm to her, together with those of Adarsh Bhaiyya and Lakshya (who had, reluctantly, abided by their father's pledged word), she claimed, with unholy glee, that she was now owed their share of profits. Sanskaar had, to her considerable disquiet, smilingly agreed that she would be entitled to their share. But before she could crow about her triumph for too long, he had quietly reminded her that their firm followed the Financial year for accounting purposes---not the calendar year. As such, it was customary that any share of profit owed to the partners would be determined and paid out only after the end of March---at the time when the books were closed for the year.
"You can wait, I'm sure, for 3 months Ragini." he had said calmly, but Swara, standing next to him, could not help smiling at his flared nostrils and the flags of color on his finely chiseled cheekbones. She knew all the signs of Sanskaar's steely determination when she saw them, and she was confident that Ragini had not a chance in this battle.
Ragini had had to concede defeat with an ill grace, and tactically retreat to try another avenue of attack. But Sanskaar was not done with her yet. In a pre emptive strike, he had called out after her, "Ragini---I'll just save you some time, since you will surely now be approaching your lawyers, to find out another way of forcing us to fork out funds. They'll probably ask you to demand partner's salary owed to Bade papa, Adarsh Bhaiyya and Lucky. Well, just tell them that partner's remuneration is allowed as an expense, only if set out in our partnership deed, and that too, subject to certain maximum limits as a percentage of profits. Lucky is not owed salary as per our deed, since he was not really an active working partner. And whatever salary is owed to Bade papa and Adarsh Bhaiyya, like their share of profit, will be paid after March 31. Not a day before. Neither Papa nor I will allow the deed to be modified, either."
Sanskaar's voice was clear and calm, with apparently not a tinge of rancor. But Ragini had shuddered involuntarily, all the same, at his underlying iron will, his warrior like resolve. She had used all her pent up rage, her vitriolic frustration, to lash out at Sanskaar, hurling invective where she knew instinctively she had a chance to hurt. "How touching, Sanskaar. Such dedication, such loyalty to battle for the family...and all for what? Are you trying to win their love with such devotion? You certainly haven't got much of it all these years, have you? You've always been given the burden of expectations, of responsibilities. And all the rights, the love, the concern and affection has been lavished on Lakshya most of all, and then Adarsh Bhaiyya. It must make you feel bad, isn't it? To not come first in anyone's affections? To get a pat on the back for a job well done, but never an loving hand on your head?"
Sanskaar had, it must be admitted, winced ever so slightly at her attack. But before he could respond, Swara had lashed out at her sister, her voice as cold as ice. "You don't need to worry about my husband, Ragini. He is, and always will be, the most important for me; and I will always put his interests, his feelings first. You would be better served asking this question of yourself. Whose interests are you putting foremost? And who is doing that for you? Funny isn't it, that for all the love you claim to feel, your actions prove that you only love yourself? This battle you are fighting, its all for your own selfishness and your vanity. If I were you, I would ponder more about that, than bothering about taunting others. Be careful what you say next time, Ragini."
With a last glare at Ragini, Swara had walked away with Sanskaar, her arm tucked securely around his elbow. And that was another reason for Ragini's cold, jealous fury. She had been overjoyed a few weeks back, to see signs of obvious strain in the relationship between Swara and Sanskaar. She had gleefully anticipated them to separate, and to then have the schadenfreude of seeing them suffer pangs of loneliness and yearning. It was, to Ragini's mind, nothing but what they had coming to them. Why should she be the only one suffering from unrequited love and unfulfilled passion? All she had wanted was for Lakshya to love her! For him to make her his, to let her make him happy. But now---she appeared to have lost him forever. Ragini still desired him, her fanatic, obsessive want for him not having dulled, even in the face of Lakshya's very apparent disdain and contempt. But now she wanted to break him. To force him to come crawling back to her, and to beg her to take him back.
One of the greatest regrets in Ragini's life was always being what others had wanted her to be, rather than just being herself. In the stiflingly orthodox, cosseted atmosphere she had been brought up in, she had been cajoled by her dictatorial Dadi to always strive for perfection in everything--to be the perfect daughter, the perfect granddaughter, the perfect performer on her sitar, and to become, ultimately, the perfect wife and daughter in law.
She had been endlessly schooled by Dadi into achieving, or at least into pretending, an infinite capacity for patience, for virtue, for always doing the right thing. For saying the correct words, acting with perfect manners. That endless quest for being the best, the sweetest, the kindest, the most adored, had finally made her snap. She now wanted Lakshya to see how perfect she was for him. To recognize that, to be grateful for that. And she would do anything to ensure that she got him back, on her terms.
And whilst she was mired in this struggle, her heart was set aflame by the cold, sickening flames of jealousy, seeing Sanskaar and Swara steadily draw closer again, dispelling the misunderstanding that had briefly clouded their warm happiness. Given how much joy Ragini attempted to derive from their sorrow, this was certainly too much for her to bear with equanimity.
It was time, she thought, to unleash her secret weapon, which had come into her hands so fortuitously. A couple of days ago, she had visited the musical instruments store she usually frequented, to get her sitar re-strung. And while she was there, she had made a most fascinating acquaintance. Someone who had got talking to her, having discovered that she was the bahu--and malkin--of Maheshwari House. Someone whose interests now coincided with hers, in ensuring the abject submission and defeat of the Maheshwaris.
Part 2: The forces are arrayed
Day 16 : Sunday, December 27, 2015.
5 pm, Maheshwari House
Sunday afternoons typically followed a relaxed pattern in Maheshwari House. After an early lunch, the family normally retired to their respective rooms for an afternoon siesta, before gathering in the evening again for tea and snacks. Members of their extended family, or their social circle, normally called on them at this hour. The Maheshwaris being pillars of the Marwari community in Kolkata, visits from members of their biradari were fairly common, and even the younger generation had become quiet familiar with some of the regular visitors. No guest was expected that day, however, since Durga Prasad Maheshwari was away, expected to return only the next day.
The guest who arrived that afternoon, at Ragini Lakshya Maheshwari's express invitation, was not familiar to any of the younger set. In fact, none of them had ever set eyes on her before. Uttara had seen her first, and had stared, fascinated and wide eyed, at the array of tattoos on the lady's neck and arm. She was conversing with Ragini a sultry, contralto voice, the afternoon sun streaming through the windows and burnishing her skin with a golden sheen. As the others had come down for their tea, one after another, they had all looked curiously at the guest. Ragini seemed to be biding her time to perform any introduction, and none of them wanted to make the first move. So they had quietly sat down, taking their evening tea, and chatting quietly amongst themselves.
Sanskaar and Swara were both wary, much more cautious than the others. Experience suggested that any person to whom Ragini was so warmly disposed, need not necessarily be beneficently disposed towards the family. They kept a wary eye on both Ragini and the guest, and presently, as the elders started coming down to join them for tea, both of them heard a sudden, sharp intake of breath by one of them, as the person caught sight of this mysterious lady.
Sanskaar looked up immediately, and saw his father look ashen and completely shocked, staring at the lady almost as if he'd seen a ghost. And there seemed to be something weirdly taunting and triumphant, in the way the lady was looking back at him. Swara and he exchanged worried looks---something seemed direly wrong...
Ragini, now that the elders were also present, proceeded to make the introductions as if there was no tension in the air whatsoever. She cheerfully introduced the lady as Kaveri, a well known performer of music and dance at weddings and other social events. She explained that she'd met her at the music store when Kaveri had come to purchase some instruments for her troupe. They had got to talking, Ragini explained, and now that they had struck up this acquaintance, she was planning to invite Kaveri to perform at the grand New Year bash she was going to throw at home. No one knew quite what to say to this, a party of the variety Ragini was talking about, was unheard of in the conservative atmosphere of Maheshwari House. Their smiles of greeting at Kaveri, were therefore stilted and forced. Both Swara and Sanskaar again noticed, worriedly, that there were significant undercurrents of tension when Ram Prasad made a perfunctory nod towards Kaveri. She appeared to smile maliciously at him, trying to catch his eye, which he studiously avoided, his face looking increasingly thunderous.
Nobody wanted to linger too long over their afternoon tea, with such an uneasy atmosphere prevailing. The gathering broke up soon enough, and everyone went to catch up with what they had planned for the evening. Ram Prasad seemed to linger purposefully, as Ragini escorted Kaveri to the entrance to send her off. Sanskaar, watching like a hawk, noticed that his father slipped out the front door soon after Ragini came back in. As he quickly made his own way out, he smiled faintly as Swara hastily joined him, too. There was little, after all, which escaped his wife's notice!
They stepped cautiously out into the driveway, walking as silently as they could, trying to catch sight of either Ram Prasad or Kaveri. It was Swara who noticed a bright flash of color---Kaveri's sari by the looks of it---behind their thick grove of Tabebuia trees. She appeared to have turned left into their garden, instead of walking out the gate. As Swara and Sanskaar crept quietly over to the grove, screened from sight by the numerous flowering shrubs in the garden, they realized that Kaveri was not alone. Ram Prasad was standing next to her, conversing with her an an extremely agitated, though low voice.
They listened, intently, as snatched of their conversation floated over to where they stood hidden. "Why have you come back, after all these years?", came Ram's voice, sounding furious and extremely worried. "You got whatever you wanted! All the money you demanded. Have you no shame whatsoever?" He was interrupted by Kaveri's throaty, sarcastic laugh. "Shame? Why should I be the only person to feel that, Ram Babu? Prices have gone up everywhere, you know. The sum you gave me 25 years ago, doesn't really meet my requirements anymore. How could I resist, when the new bahu of your home---I hear she's the malkin as well?---made me such a tempting offer for my cooperation? But for old time's sake, I am prepared to ignore her very generous terms and not do as she asked, provided you match her offer."
"You can't get anything more by this blackmail!" came Ram Prasad's angry rejoinder. "You made a vow, all those years back, to take the money and go, and never bother us again! Doesn't that mean anything to you?" Kaveri sounded bored and yet taunting, as she replied "Don't waste my time and yours talking about past vows which have no meaning, Ram Babu. Think about what she would feel now, if she came to know the truth, that her husband wasn't quite the paragon of virtue she always thought he was! And what about the children? Have you thought about how their impression of their father would be shattered, if they knew the secret you've concealed all these years?"
Their voices died away as Ram Prasad curtly told Kaveri to leave their premises immediately, and himself moved back to the house. Swara, her mind reeling in shock, realized that Sanskaar, standing tense and silent next to her, was literally shaking as if from an attack of the ague. His face had gone completely ashen, and his eyes held a haunted, agonized expression. She held his arm tight with one hand, cupping his face with the other. "Sanskaar!" she murmured urgently. "Look at me! We'll figure this out together...". When he didn't react, but continued to look shattered, she stroked his cheek, trying desperately to coax him to speak to her. Sanskaar suddenly jerked his face away, his eyes very moist. "I need to be alone for a bit, Swara", he muttered in a tense whisper, as he started striding away to his car in the driveway. Before she could react, he had revved the engine up and driven full tilt out of the gates.
The next few hours were the longest ever of Swara's life. She could understand what Sanskaar was going through, but she wanted to be with him, to help him cope with what was obviously a severe emotional blow. Repeated calls to his mobile went unanswered, and she was now getting frantic with worry. There wasn't any way she could speak to anyone in the family either---for what could she say of the reason why Sanskaar had left in such an agitated manner? She still couldn't begin to fathom what she and Sanskaar had heard---Papa? Papa being blackmailed by that woman in such a sordid manner? Swara wouldn't have believed it, not in a million years, if she hadn't heard it herself, and still, she had terrible difficulty reconciling herself with it. But now was not the time to dwell on that, she just didn't have the time, the energy or the inclination. All her focus was bent upon finding where her husband had got to, whether he was safe, and how he was coping.
Just when she thought she would break down in frantic sobs any moment, the security guard from their farmhouse called, asking if he could lock the gates for the night, or would someone be bringing over dinner for Sanskaar babu? Sanskaar had apparently driven to farmhouse some time back, and was now closeted indoors, and not answering any of the guard's knocks or calls. Swara reached an immediate decision. Hurrying downstairs, she informed Sujata that Sanskaar had decided to spend the night at the farmhouse, and added a little white lie, that he'd asked her to join him with their dinner. Swara had endured Uttara's and Parineeta Bhabhi's good natured teasing; and Sujata's own half embarrassed, half knowing looks as patiently as she could, as she got their dinner packed. She then called for their driver to drop her off to the farmhouse, having packed a small overnight kit for herself as well as Sanskaar.
Reaching the farmhouse a short while later, Swara sent the driver with car back to Maheshwari house, since Sanskaar's car was already parked there. She rang the bell, but getting no response, she opened the front door with the key she'd brought with her. As she stepped into the spacious front hall, she noticed that the room was in total darkness. Flicking the light switches on, she started a bit as she realized that Sanskaar was sitting at the dining table in utter silence, resting his head on his outstretched arms. He looked up, squinting a bit at the sudden brightness of the lights, and Swara noticed with a painful pang in her heart, that his eyes were moist and red rimmed. He looked completely shattered.
If Swara had not already realized that she loved him, she would have realized the magnitude of her feelings now, at this instant. What else was this but the deepest love---to feel so intensely, the pain of the person one adores, to be willing to do anything to ensure their happiness and peace of mind?
Sanskaar had looked momentarily surprised at seeing Swara there, and then a look of happiness entered his eyes. But like most strong men, Sanskaar preferred to deal with his grief in solitude, or at least, so he thought. "Why did you come here so late, Swara?" he asked a little gruffly. "I just need some time alone to sort things out in my head, figure out what all this means...". Swara answered him in a calm, level voice. "Thinking things through in your mind, doesn't mean you have to do it on an empty stomach, right? I've brought you your dinner. And I'm going to stay put here as well---you don't have to discuss your thoughts with me, if you don't want to. But I'll feel much better being under the same roof as you, and if you do want to talk things through, I'm here."
Sanskaar hadn't said anything to that, but she could see that he was incredibly moved. He had always been considered the strongest of the Maheshwari brothers, the most capable, the most self reliant. From very early on, he was relied upon and trusted, and it was the general expectation that he could do more, bear more. His family had long forgotten that even the strongest occasionally do need solace, do need a companion's shoulder to lean on, a comforting hand entwined with their own. Having Swara be there for him now, meant more to Sanskaar than he could articulate.
"I always relied so much on Papa, you know, Swara..." he began slowly. "I never realized that till now. All of us always admired Bade Papa more, almost venerated him, in fact. But I just realized today, how much Papa's steadiness, his loyalty, his straightforwardness meant to me. Bade papa taught us all to dream, gave us wings to soar on to achieve ever greater things. But it was Papa who kept our feet planted on the ground. I hadn't even thought about it before---but Papa's integrity meant so much to me! But today---what we heard---it makes so many of my beliefs seem just like a mirage! I don't even know what to think anymore, its all too much for me to handle..."
Swara spoke up gently at that. "Why not give him a chance, to hear his side of things? It sounds very bad, I admit. But don't be too hasty in judging Papa, Sanskaar. Speak to him tomorrow, give him a patient hearing at least. You owe him that."
Sanskaar winced as one of his worst thoughts now came to the fore. He hesitated to speak of it to Swara, but over their months together as best friends, he had come to rely much more on her than anyone else. With the now-changed dynamics of their relationship, this fear had to be spoken. He said, sadly "What does this mean for me as a person, Swara? I was so sure of my identity, the characteristics I inherited. But now it seems Papa could have been a philanderer, could have cheated on Mom. I am not sure what I am, anymore. I have inherited those cheating genes, haven't I? It would devastate me if you started doubting me in future because of that. Tum mujhpe phir se shaq karo, mein yeh bilkul bardhasht nahin kar sakhta, Swara..."
His voice died away on an agonized note, and Swara had tears streaming down her cheeks now, at the intensity of his despair. Though their recent warmth had healed a lot of the wounds she had inflicted, she realized anew how much her brief mistrust had bruised his heart. She reached out and clasped his palm tight with one of her hands, and placed her other lightly on his chest, over his heart. "Everything cannot be accounted for by heredity, Sanskaar! I trust you completely, I fell in love with you because of the goodness, the loyalty in your heart. That doesn't change in the slightest because of what we heard today. And if it is just heredity we are talking about, well, you and I both know how unreliable my father had been, how he had betrayed Maa twice over. I don't think his failings have any bearing on my behavior. My choices are based on my conscience, my heart. Not on anything else. And yours are the same."
Swara's chest constricted painfully, as she saw a few tears course down Sanskaar's face. She slowly stepped right up to him, her heart pounding erratically, as she bent her head and took the glistening drops on his cheek between her lips.
As Sanskaar jerked his head up to look at her astonishment at her unexpected gesture, Swara stood up nervously and turned away. She was about to move away from him, when she felt a tug at her dress. She turned around to see him clutching the end of her dupatta, an utterly forlorn look on his face. Swara stepped back close to him, and Sanskaar wrapped his arms around her waist, his face burrowing into her stomach as sobs racked his muscular frame. She stood mutely, tears streaming down her own cheeks, as she stroked his hair tenderly.
He stilled and suddenly pulled her onto his lap and into his arms, capturing her soft lips with his. His kiss was the lightest of whispers at first, touching his lips to hers again and again, with overwhelming gentleness. Swara moved even closer into his embrace, inhaling the warm musky scent of Sanskaar's body as it drugged her senses, filling her body with bewildering warmth. Her hands locked at the back of his neck, and her lips parted as she eagerly returned his kiss. She felt the tip of his tongue against her lips, gently parting them, then slowly moving inside her mouth to stroke against hers. He tasted like hot chocolate on cold evenings and crisp winter air, and as their mouths locked together in a languorous, lingering exploration, they were oblivious of anything beyond this moment of total abandonment, to the exquisitely pleasurable sensations their kiss was awakening.
Her body trembled as she clung ever closer to him. He lifted a hand and stroked her face, her throat, his long fingers moving to to the back of her dress to unhook it, to claim her heated skin. Her own fingers slipped into his shirt to dig into the firm muscles and light curls of his chest, and she met his kiss with a blazing passion that had them both breathless and light headed. She heard him murmur her name with a tremulous sigh, and her head fell back as his lips explored the sweet line of her throat, rasping her jaw and chin sensuously with his stubble.
"Let's go inside", he whispered and stood up quickly in one smooth movement, lifting her from his lap and into the sanctuary of his arms. He carried her through to the bedroom, bearing her down against the softness of the bed by the weight of his own ardent body. His face was flushed, his molten-chocolate eyes mesmerizing and intent, as he came down beside her.
In the dimly lit room their fingers caressed each others skin, as if afraid a heavier touch would break the heady magic. They became one, one mind with one goal and purpose, each utterly drunk with love for the other, moving in an intoxicated dance of limbs. They had spent so much time navigating each others soul through their eyes, that they had never imagined how ethereal it would feel to have each other this way.
They both knew that with the arrival of the next morning, when the sun filtered into the room, caressing their entwined bodies, they would have to face the reality that threatened their family.
But now, as the shadows cloaked them, they had the luxury of weaving a night of fantasy. Of giving themselves up to the magic engulfing them, powering their life affirming love for each other. And for the passionately entwined twin souls that they were, for now, this was enough.
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Sorry for leaving it at a bit of a cliffhanger, guys. But I do need a little time to write out Karna Parva--Day 17. In the meantime, I will just say that the quote from the Roman fabulist Phaedrus is extremely appropriate: ""Things are not always what they seem; the first appearance deceives many""
Happy New Year once again.
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