The Flame of Friendship

The palace had fallen into the quiet rhythm of the night. The soft rustle of silk as it brushed against my skin, the faint hum of crickets outside, the gentle pull of the cool breeze ....they all seemed so distant to me, as if I were floating far above it all. Sometimes, when I allowed myself to linger in the silence, I could almost feel the weight of my own soul, heavier than any crown, heavier than the burden of this world I was meant to rule.

But there is one who has always been a presence in my life, unasked for, uninvited, and yet essential. Krishna. His name, though so simple, echoes within me like a divine chant ...a sound that binds me, comforts me, and frightens me all at once.

Tonight, he came to me, as he always does, when the world around me becomes too much to bear.

I had been pacing my chamber, a thousand thoughts chasing each other like a herd of wild horses, when I felt it ...that unmistakable pull, that warmth that burned brighter than the stars. He stood before me, his dark eyes glinting with mirth, his smile both soothing and unsettling.

"Is it peace you seek, Draupadi?" he asked, his voice low, like a lullaby sung to a restless child.

I looked at him, at the man who seemed to carry the weight of the entire universe upon his shoulders, and yet never bent beneath it. How many times had I asked myself how he did it? How he remained calm, composed, and full of light in a world that seemed determined to swallow us all whole? And yet, he had always been there, by my side, in moments when even the earth seemed to tremble beneath my feet.

"Peace?" I repeated softly, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. "What peace can I ever know? Can a woman born from fire ever find solace in the ashes?"

He stepped closer, his presence like a balm to the rawness of my soul. He placed his hand gently on my shoulder, and I felt a spark of warmth radiate from his touch, though I had never been one to welcome such tenderness. I had never needed it. I had only needed strength, fury, and the will to stand.

"Perhaps," Krishna said, his voice carrying the weight of wisdom, "peace does not come in the form you expect. Perhaps it is not the absence of war that you seek, but the quiet acceptance of the fire that lives inside you. It is not in extinguishing the flame, Draupadi, but in learning to control it. To let it burn without consuming you."

I could not meet his gaze. Instead, my eyes wandered to the flickering shadows in the corners of the room. The night was always full of hidden truths, truths I did not want to confront. And yet, Krishna had a way of making me face them, whether I wished to or not.

"You speak in riddles, Krishna," I said, my voice laced with frustration. "I have lived with this fire my entire life. I was born in it, forged by it, and yet it is never enough. It is never enough to protect me, to heal me, to make me whole. It only burns."

He smiled, a smile that seemed to hold a thousand untold secrets. "Perhaps," he said softly, "the fire is not meant to heal you, Draupadi. It is meant to shape you. It is your strength, yes, but it is also your burden. And in carrying that burden, you have become something greater than any of us could have imagined."

I met his eyes then, searching for the truth hidden within them. There was no pity in his gaze, no judgment ... only a depth of understanding that I had never encountered in anyone else. It was a connection I had never sought but somehow always needed.

"You have been my ally in every battle," I whispered. "Yet, I wonder... why do you stay with me? Why do you continue to watch over me, when I am nothing but a woman caught in the machinations of men, playing a game I never chose?"

He chuckled softly, and I could hear the warmth in his voice. "Do you not see, Draupadi? It is because you are not just a woman. You are a symbol, a force of nature. You may not have chosen this life, but you have embraced it. You have become the very embodiment of resilience, of justice, of the fire that will not be extinguished."

I closed my eyes, feeling the weight of his words. The fire inside me had always burned so fiercely, consuming everything in its path. I had never stopped to consider that it could be something more than destruction. Krishna had a way of making me see the world differently .....through the lens of something deeper, something beyond the confines of fate.

"I am torn between my duty to my husbands, to my people," I said, my voice quiet but steady. "And yet, in all of this, I have never once had the chance to choose for myself. Not even once."

Krishna was silent for a moment, his gaze never leaving me. And then, he spoke, his voice like a whisper of wind. "And that is why I am here, Draupadi. Not to offer you answers, but to remind you that you have the power to choose. Even in the darkest of moments, you can choose who you are. You can choose how to wield the fire within you, whether to let it burn others or to let it light your own path."

I felt the truth of his words settle deep within me, like the first spark of a new fire. In the end, it was not the world that defined me ....it was the fire that had been given to me, and how I chose to wield it.

"You have always been a friend to me, Krishna," I said, my voice thick with emotion. "More than that, you have been a guide, a protector. But there are days when even the strongest of flames falters, when the weight of it all threatens to crush me."

Krishna stepped back slightly, his hand still on my shoulder. His gaze softened, and for the first time, I saw the tenderness in him ....not as a god, not as a friend, but as something even more profound: a true companion to a woman who had lived through more than any soul should endure.

"And you are not alone, Draupadi," he said gently. "I will always be with you. In your fire, in your sorrow, in your victories and your defeats. And when the time comes for you to take your final stand, know this: you will not fall, because I will stand beside you."

For a moment, the world seemed to fall away, and all that remained was the bond between us. In that fleeting moment, I did not feel the weight of the crown, nor the pain of my many losses. I felt only the presence of Krishna, as steady and constant as the stars in the sky.

"Thank you," I whispered. "For being here, when everyone else has forgotten who I am."

He smiled again, the weight of centuries in his gaze, but his voice light and full of the promise of eternal companionship. "You have never been forgotten, Draupadi. Not by me. Not by the fire that burns within you."

As he turned to leave, I felt the embers of the fire within me flicker, and for the first time in a long while, they did not seem so overwhelming. With Krishna by my side, I knew that no matter how fierce the storm, I could face it ....not as a pawn, but as the fire that would never die.

For I was Draupadi. And I had learned, through Krishna's words, that even the darkest night could not extinguish the flame within me.