1. Dhrishtdhyumn
I am sure you all have heard about Dhrishtadyumn. Dhrish, as I fondly called him, was my brother, who like me was born from the holy fire. The very fact that we both were born in the same way made us very similar. If I could tell you stories about Dhrish, they would last till eternity. My mind flashes to one memory, which never fails to shake me up and I shut my eyes tightly. Not yet, I am not ready to relive those moments, at least today. Slowly, I open my eyes to look at the surroundings.
I sit in the women's chambers, in King Yudhisthir's palace in Hastinapur, seven years after the Great War of the country of Bharata, the war which is also known as Mahabharata ended. There has not been a single day when I haven't thought about the war. Time, they say heals all wounds. But there will always be some wounds that will scar your heart forever. The memories of these will always pull a deep chord in your heart, sometimes leaving you claustrophobic.
I can hear someone sobbing, and I know where it is coming from. Suthanu and Pragiti, my two daughters, have visited us in Hastinapur today, like they always do on this day, every year. But I do not get up and move to the adjacent room, which is the source of their sound. It's today that they miss their brother's the most, just like I miss Dhrish. It's the day when Bharata celebrates Raksha Bandhan. Once again, as I think about Dhrish, the memories flood my mind.
I am sitting on the ground after the Great War, feeling totally numb. In front of me lies one sight I never imagined I would see. In my lap, lies the body of my dear brother Dhrish, his head slightly tilting. I put my palm on his forehead, and pull it back when I realise it's as cold as ice. This can't be happening. The war is over, we have won, my brother was alive until last night. I try to shake him, but he lays there still. Dhrish will wake up, he always tried playing silly pranks on me, and this was one of them. I shake him again, but he doesn't wake up. Someone helps me get up and move away from the sight. I keep staring at him; my voice chokes as I try to say something. I want to scream out loud, but I just don't find my voice. I rub my hands on the face to wipe off my tears, only to realise there were no tears. My mind and heart are totally blank. I sit in the makeshift tent in Kurukshetra with my mother-in law. She makes me lie down on her lap and gently rubs her hand on my forehead.
Memories start flashing in my mind. Dhrish and I coming out of the holy fire and him turning towards me and smiling as we walked together towards our father. I remember another memory, one when I was playing around in the garden and a throne had pierced my leg. Dhrish, the over protective brother that he was, made ensure that any plant having even anything looking like a throne was removed immediately from the palace. When we were young, in the midnight, Dhrish and I would sneak out of our chambers and lie down in the palace garden, and stare at the stars. Like I said, we both were alike. While gazing at the stars we would often discuss what we wanted to do with our life. His sole mission was to avenge our father and kill Drona, and mine was to bring about change. In comparison to his mission, mine was vague and ridiculously funny, but Dhrish never laughed. He knew the fire that burned within us whenever we thought about achieving our respective goals. I also remember that Dhrish was the one who taught me how to defend oneself while sword fighting and he taught me how to hold the bow and the arrow.
It was before my Swayamvar that Dhrish had let me down greatly. I wasn't asked by my father if I was ready to get married. Who was I kidding when I thought about that? Women never were asked anything anyway. But somewhere deep down, I had expected Dhrish to come talk to me about it. The incident had somehow put a strain in our relationship. I decided to talk to him about it, but whenever I approached him, he would look away or pretend to be busy. A day before the Swayamvar, he came into my chambers. I asked the maids to leave, so I could talk to him. I glanced at him, and he looked away.
"I am sorry, Drau, I should have asked you about this." He kept looking down as he spoke.
There, that one line melted my heart. I went up to him and held his hand. I saw the look in his eyes, and I understood it all. He didn't have a choice in this either. It was our father's decision. Dhrish then promised me that he would look after me no matter what. That my marriage wouldn't change anything, and that his dutya s a brother to me came first. And he did look after me. He stood up for me when I chose to marry the Bhramin (I was unaware at that time that he was Arjun), he followed us after the swayamvar to ensure I was safe. Many years later when he came to meet us in the exile, I could see the guilt in his eyes. I had told him that it wasn't within his power to stop what had happened at the RajyaSabha, he wasn't even present there. But Dhrish, my ever loving brother, promised me he would take revenge for what the Kaurava's had put me through.
My chain of thoughts was broken when my maid calls me. I look at her and she signals that she has brought in the portrait I had asked her to. Wiping away my tears, I walk to the portrait of Dhrish, and stare at it intently. His posture, upright as always, the small teasing smirk he always gave me when he would prank me, the eyes that shone brightly. Like me, he too had the fire-like personality, and even in this portrait, I could see that. I ran my fingers over the portrait and then, like I had been doing for the past seven years after the War, placed the Rakhi band which I was clutching in my hand on the wooden panel which was attached to the frame. I couldn't fulfil the promise that a sister makes while tying a Rakhi to her Brother: That she would pray for his safety. But he promised his promise of keeping me safe, always.
"I miss you Dhrish" I said as I lowered my head, letting the tears flow finally.
***
Hello Again. So, was it nice? Okay? Rubbish? Please do let me know in the comments.
And Important: I have no idea if Raksha Bandhan was celebrated then, although there are stories where Drau had tied a Rakhi to Krishna and Kunti to ABhimanyu before the war. Also, there is a story of Goddess Laxmi trying a Rakhi to King Bali or something. Can't recall. For fictional sake, I assume it was celebrated then đ
Love,
Payal
Edited by sweetangelpayal - 11 years ago
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