A while ago he had walked into their suite, tired after a long day of inspection, to find Draupadi sitting on the windowside divan. She hadn't greeted him, as she always did.
"What is the matter, Panchaali? You look upset," he had said, by way of asking.
"Upset?" She had said as she got up. "Why would I be upset?"
Before he could have even thought of something to say in return, she had been gathering her shawl around herself and proceeding towards the doors.
"""""
I can spend one night in a spare room, Draupadi told herself as she made her way to the one place she
felt would give her peace to think: the sangeetshala.
It was now that she was married that she was beginning to understand what her Gurumata had meant
when she told her that Draupadi would have to learn how to command the attention of her husbands, instead of taking it as granted. "Men have many things to occupy them, shishyaa. So you will have to make sure that you are always above those many things. That is how you keep a man," she had said.
Draupadi hadn't seen that as particularly useful advice then, because she hadn't wanted to seem hungry for anyone's attention; she much preferred to enjoy attention that was given, not asked for. But right now, she was glad that she remembered the wise words.
Theek hai, she thought to herself now, as she settled with a veena across her lap. Let's see, what does the King see as more worthy of his time- his Chausar board, or his wife.Since the past two weeks, Yudhishthir's evenings had been occupied by something or the other:Ministers coming over for games, hunting invitations, foreign diplomats visiting, someone's naamkaran ceremony. And by the night, he was too exhausted to do anything besides plop on their bed and snore
off to sleep.
"""""
The next day, Yudhishthir dismissed the Court early. On his way to Draupadi's rooms, he told a dasi to
arrange for sliced melons to be sent in a while to the Royal Gardens in the King's Courtyard.
He entered the room and found his wife improvising revamp of the furniture upholstery.
"Parihaar," he said.
Draupadi turned around, her shoulders taut, her face impassive. All the helpers and servants trickled out of the room.
"Draupadi," he said, "Priye, would you come with me for a walk through our gardens? The maali has reported that the East Wing is in bloom."
Draupadi said nothing as she walked towards him. Together they went to the Gardens.
"""""
The East Wing was indeed in bloom. The Queen and the King sat under an amaltaas tree steadily
shedding confetti of yellow flowers. The Queen would plow her hands through the pile of flowers every now and then.
After some initial coaxing on Yudhishthir's part, Draupadi opened up. She was happy that he was taking time out for her, after all.
They talked for hours. About the children, about their kingdom, about lands far away, about their latest dreams. Yudhishthir read his poems to her, Draupadi sang her latest composition. They would tease each other, Draupadi on his strange sense of humor, Yudhishthir on her quick anger. They talked about
dharm and sangeet, about natya and nritya. Time passed and it was evening.
Yudhishthir's head was in Draupadi's lap when the melons came.
"Melons?" Draupadi said when she saw the plate.
"You don't like melons?" Yudhishthir asked.
"I love melons!" She answered, as she picked up a crescent of the fruit, and bit into it.
"Careful now!" Yudhishthir said as he sat up. His wife could be such a child at times. That was what he liked so much about her. There were so many facets to her personality, that he could never get tired
of studying them. She was so fascinating to him, fiery one moment, calm another; stubborn one moment, pliable another; wise one moment, petty another.. She was so strong, yet sensitive. He was so
lucky.
"What are you thinking, Maharaj?" His ardhangini asked, placing the empty slice back on the plate.
"About how saubhagyavaan I am, to have you," he said, tucking a stray tress behind her ear.
"Accha?" She asked, her voice teasing.
"Ji haan," he said, his hand moving to cup her face
She blushed, her dark cheeks turning darker. She shied away from him, but he pulled her back.
With her back to the tree trunk, Draupadi looked at her husband. The soft curve of his chin, the slight
stubble on his cheeks, the edge of his jaw. She traced her fingers over his subtle but handsome features,
resting on his lips.
Just as Yudhishthir leaned forward, Draupadi turned her face away with a soft giggle.
Draupadi could do nothing but smile as he turned her face back.
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