Three

1 months ago

proteeti

@sambhavami

Back from the tavern, Krishna had stormed into his study, slamming the wooden door behind him. Slumping down into his chair, he had pored over the pending paperwork. Flicking his quill as furiously as he swung his sword on the battlefield, Krishna worked through every single request that had dared ever clutter his desk. They must have taken Rama home, right?

Krishna couldn't allow himself the luxury of anxiety. Or anger. One by one, papers flew under his pen, shuffling noisily from one stack to another, smudged in his frustration.

In some time, when the stack of pending requests had grown thin, anklets rang behind him. In his haste to cut himself off from the outside world, Krishna had forgotten to lock the door that led to the inner chambers. Krishna took a deep breath, steadying himself, as he felt a pair of cool palms wrapping around his burning eyes.

Krishna smiled briefly. He'd know those rosy fingers pressing down on his cheeks anywhere!

---

Subhadra had been born the very moment when a furious bolt of lightning had struck the rising moon, at the juncture of day and night, all those years ago. Exactly a day after Krishna's eighteenth birthday. Krishna had spent that birthday as well as the following day on the battlefield.

The fulmination from the thunderous spectacle had given the brothers a moment's advantage, culminating in their first real victory in battle. She had come early, precisely, as though a herald had come to warn their enemies. Krishna and Balarama had watched with glee as the enemy troops had retreated, tripping over each other in the process. They had stood soaking in the amber rays of dusk that had unexpectedly rained down upon them by gently parting the gloomy clouds, revelling in the petrichor.

Soon after she had been born, the royal astrologers had assigned the glory of that Yadava victory to the baby princess. This had annoyed Rama to no end, who upon trying to confront the fortune-tellers, having been handed the baby to hold, had immediately melted. Krishna at that time, had sunk to the floor laughing, taunting Rama, before proclaiming that he'd even cut the heart out of his chest, if the princess so commanded.

That had been a good day.

Since that very day, little Subhadra had become the apple of the brothers' eyes. Obviously, they had had other siblings in due course of time, but even a naïve explorer bumbling into Mathura would realize by casting a mere glance, who was the most adored out of them all.

Even soldiers crowded near her residence before battle. A belief had taken root that even a fleeting glimpse of her radiant face would grant warriors protection in battle.

Over the years, this faith in her had grown in leaps and bounds. So much, that the brothers, despite their uneasiness with her near-deification, were forced to take her around the city on open cars once a year. Thankfully, she thoroughly enjoyed the attention.

The passing years had graced the princess with Rama's beauty and Krishna's enigma. With age, her temperament had grown to resemble the very ocean her city overlooked. Just like the impatient waves that crashed incessantly on the rocky beaches, she too was restless. Yet, like the same ocean at its depths, the princess was immovable in her stances.

With time, the brothers' love for Subhadra had also grown. Even a newly appointed guard would immediately be cautioned so as to never stop her at any gate, lest prince Rama's wrath be directed their way. It had become common knowledge that causing the princess even a mild inconvenience would be unforgivable even for the usually merciful prince Krishna.

Krishna and Subhadra both possessed the uncanny ability to peer into the soul of a person to scoop out even their most coveted secrets from the deepest corner of their hearts. Trouble arose whenever they attempted to cast the spell on each other. Rumours ruled the palace that in escalating bids to outsmart each other, the prince and princess often spent hours debating even the most mundane questions in life, often reaching conclusions wildly unrelated to their initial points of disagreements.

---

"Bhadra," Krishna forced a smile, as he wrapped her hands around his neck, pulling her close, "I do not understand whether you are growing up or down. You are old enough to be married, you know?" He laughed, making Subhadra push him playfully.

"So, what do you want?" Krishna asked, shaking his head.

"Can't a sister come to simply check on her brother when he's so hard at work?" Subhadra pulled a face, settling down beside her brother.

"And... did you come just to check?" Krishna peered into his sister's eyes, smirking.

"I promised my friends that I'll take them out on a picnic to the Raivataka forests," she admitted hesitantly.

"That's okay. I doubt organizing it is the challenge that you face!" Krishna retorted, as he resumed reading the latest report on his desk.

Subhadra shifted closer to him conspiratorially, "Rama wouldn't like it if we went. He doesn't approve of us venturing any further past than the temple. Would you talk to him? He never says no to you!"

Krishna's jaw tightened, "If Rama doesn't like it, maybe you should respect his wish, Bhadra. There's nothing I can do there."

"Please, brother!" She wrapped her arms around him, "I already promised my friends. I will be humiliated if I cannot make it happen now."

Krishna sighed, "Then you should take it as a lesson in not making promises you can't keep."

"Why are you being so difficult today?!" Subhadra pouted, "You know I wouldn't ask if I didn't absolutely need it!"

"Sure, I'm the difficult one!" Krishna huffed sarcastically.

Subhadra placed a hand on his shoulder, worried, "Did something happen?" She asked dejectedly.

Krishna shook his head resignedly. He loathed it when his conflicts spilled over to the princess, "What happened is not your burden to carry. Let me see what I can do about your picnic."

Krishna sighed once more as Subhadra wrapped him in a tight hug, planting a kiss on his cheek.

"So," Subhadra asked, having settled her issue, "What's that?" She picked up the stack of letters left on the desk by Satyaki.

"They're letters from uncle Akroora. He tells me about our Auntie Kunti and her sons."

"Is that why the letters begin with 'Dear Satyaki'?" She raised an eyebrow, as she continued reading excitedly.

"It's complex, and in any case, none of your business." Krishna gave her a defiant look as he snatched the stack back from his sister's hands.

It was however too late, as Subhadra had already skimmed through a part of the first page, "Where's this Varnavata? Uncle says that we must visit it when we go there!"

Krishna shook his fingers in her face, "We are not going anywhere!"

"Fine then, I will go by myself. Maybe I'll even steal your chariot!" Subhadra taunted.

"You wouldn't dare!" Krishna retorted, "Besides, uncle Akroora rambles too much. I would not put much thought into it," He stroked his chin absentmindedly, continuing, speaking almost to himself, "This Varnavata does keep cropping up an awful lot! But why?"

"See, I helped!" Subhadra piped up, now leaning over Krishna's shoulder to read more, "Who is Arjuna?"

Krishna immediately pressed the stack of letters to his chest, smiling up at his sister, "Why would you need to know?"

Subhadra shrugged, embarrassed at having been found out by the very person she was hoping to trick. She blurted out a few rushed excuses as she hoped that Krishna would take her questions as situational curiosity rather than the determined espionage mission she had embarked upon, having hovered discreetly on the edge of his desk for weeks.

Krishna shook his head as he flipped to the next page.

"You are good at hiding it, I'll give you that! Just not good enough to fool me." He chuckled.

Subhadra huffed back defensively, "Like brother like sister, I guess."

Krishna laughed as he set the papers down on the desk, and pulled his sister close, "Now, whatever does that mean?" He asked incredulously.

"Like that secret you've been keeping? From nearly everybody here. I wouldn't have known if not for that trip to Vrindavan."

Krishna's voice shook, as he tried to laugh it off, "I have no secrets sister. Now, get lost!"

"I met her, you know?" Subhadra continued undeterred, "Back in Vrindavana."

Krishna's demeanour changed at the mere mention. He pursed his lips as he pushed his chair back. "And you didn't think it was important to tell me?" He whispered, "You had no right to keep this from me."

"I wanted to tell you, but you were busy. You seemed hurt enough today. What better time to rip off the band-aid?" Subhadra continued without skipping a beat, "You know, I understand. I saw what you saw in her. She's remarkable! It's only right that you're pining away in secret, after all this while too! I just wish you could've told me."

Krishna searched uneasily for a light-hearted quip, but his mind had already wandered away.

---

Far away, to that fateful dawn, when Akroora had revealed the truth of his birth to Yashoda. Of course he had known way before that. Nanda had made sure of it.

He had been prepared to face the world. To fight and make his case until the end of time in order to snatch his and Rama's birthright away from those who had deprived them of it so long. He had readied himself to fight to everyone in the world for a mere chance at justice. A hundred explanations had swirled in him mind for years, dancing just at the tip of his tongue. Just not to Yashoda.

Before her, he had stood speechless, wringing his hands as his toenails had uselessly scratched the hard ground beneath, breaking and bleeding. Even as he had stood head to head with his mother, he had felt not unlike the little boy he had been fifteen years prior, that had cowered on the floor as Yashoda had raged about some minor transgression.

He had therefore stood silently, shaking his head side to side, as Yashoda had desperately shaken him by the shoulders demanding answers. Eventually she had stopped asking, and had sunken to the floor, sobbing listlessly. As he had stumbled out of the room, leaving Yashoda in a heap on the floor, Krishna had found Akroora and his father tucked away in a secluded corner whispering to each other.

"You have had seventeen years to tell her!" Akroora had hissed, "I am under orders to drag the boys to Mathura in chains if need be. You and your wife too! I am doing you a favour just by standing right here, negotiating with a woman of your kind!"

Krishna had watched in horror from behind a pillar as his usually proud father had stood listening, with his head bowed. Usually Nanda would have never tolerated such words, even from a superior minister such as Akroora. However, like himself and his brother on that wretched day, even Nanda had seemed powerless.

Akroora had continued, "See, I know the boys are strong, but they are not strong enough. Not against an entire army! Kamsa will raze this village to the ground if you do not comply, and there is absolutely nothing I can do about that right now! I don't know what you've got to do with this mess, but fix it."

Krishna had not been able to make himself listen any further. He had blindly bumbled out of their house, running. He had only stopped running once he had reached his secluded corner in middle of the dense forest of Vrindavan. Dropping to his knees, he had sobbed into her arms.

She had known. Both of them had already known it in the depths of their hearts from the very moment Nanda had burst into their grove, at twilight before dawn on that full moon night, startling the lovers. It had been as though the sun had suddenly risen from the west, for Nanda to have crossed all limits of decorum, and there could have been just one reason for that.

It had been the last thing that either of them had expected, especially after a long night of merrymaking alongside the other men and women of their tribe on the long-awaited autumn's full-moon night.

Krishna had started the dance escorting the oldest grandpa of the village, leading him to the centre of the circles formed around the crackling by the village, nodding charmingly at the jokes thrown his way.

Only, Krishna had felt something go wrong in the darkest corner of his heart even as he had danced along to the maddening beats of the village drums, peering into the delighted visage of his sweetheart from afar. A strange anxiety had taken him over, as in the corner of his eye he had spotted soldiers filter inward, their march masked by the loud drums.

Krishna had thought about that night a thousand times after it occurred, but he was never been able to rationalize his actions once he had seen the army.

Pulling out the dancing sticks off Balarama's waist in one fluid motion, Krishna had left marched up to Radha. Even as she had protested weakly, he had wrapped an arm around her, pulling her away from her husband. Staring into each other's eyes, they had swirled away, absentmindedly striking the sticks to the beats of the drum, veering dangerously close to the bonfire, not even noticing the other dancers gasping and jumping out of their way.

Only after his uttariya had caught fire, he had fallen back, dabbing at the fire with his bare hands. Then, clasping Radha's arm he had pulled her away from the circles. Disregarding the loud wave of gasps that he had drawn from the crowd, he had swept Radha off her feet. Holding her close in her arms, he had walked into the forest, with only the moon lighting the way forward.

Reaching their secret meeting place, he had dropped his giggling sweetheart onto the flower bed that was already made on the ground. His brain throbbing with the effects of the copious amount of maddhvi, he had gently kissed her lips. His face still dangerously close to hers, he had whispered, "I did kind of blow our cover, didn't I?"

Radha had nodded, pulling him closer, "Yes, and blew up my life in the process!"

"You saw those soldiers too?" He had asked, still breathing heavily.

"Why do you think I came so easy?" She had whispered back, "What do you say? One last hurrah? The night to end all nights?"

"All knights indeed!" Krishna had wrapped her in a tighter embrace as he had kissed her once more.

Krishna could never remember when he had fallen asleep, but he could never forget how he had woken up. The moon still shining brightly over his head, he had squinted up to find his father towering over him. Beside him, he had felt Radha clinging on to him, as if for dear life. Nanda had stood silently staring at the two until Krishna had extricated Radha's arms from around him and sat up on the bed of flowers. Without a single word Nanda had pulled Krishna up to his feet by his arm and dragged him out. Radha had run behind them with frantic questions up until the large flowery gate of the grove.

"I can't do this," Krishna had whispered into her ear in the morning when he had come stumbling in.

"Come on now," Radha had smiled, with tears glistening in her eyes, "Wasn't this a long time coming?"

"We will run away. No one has to know," he had pleaded.

"You and I both know that's not happening!"

"Why not? We'll run to the other end of the world where no one will know who we are, and then we'll be free! Maybe Magadh? Or Panchal? I will herd cattle like I do here, and you will get a job in one of those bow-and-arrow factories! We'll be fine. We'll be happy." Krishna had said, his eyes shining.

Radha had laughed in spite of herself.

She had pulled Krishna close to her, "Thank you for the dream, Krishna. I will dream it often. Now, go! Your parents have suffered enough."

"No, I mean it. Okay- parents. Fine! I'll go kill Kamsa, and I'll come running back. You be ready, okay? We'll run in the dead of night! Everyone will be busy celebrating, no one will even notice we're gone!"

Radha had sighed, "We've both lived long enough to know that's nonsense. Don't give me a false hope. Don't give yourself a false hope. A royal life is like being stuck in the eye of a cyclone. No one gets out. Not even you."

Krishna had frantically shaken his head.

"You're heartless, you know that?" He had exclaimed, shaking a desperate finger in her face.

"One of us has to be." She had smiled sadly.

She had stood up, pulling Krishna up to his feet, turning him the other way.

"I can't live without you, you know that!" Krishna had pleaded again, holding his arm to his chest, pressing his eyes shut as a phantom pain had taken hold.

Radha had wrapped her arms around him, planting a gentle kiss on his back.

"Well, you're the man that laughs in the face of the impossible. Make it happen." She had jostled him, as Krishna had stood glaring at the ground, his fists curled in emotion.

"I can't do this." He had repeated.

Radha had stroked his back, while gently nudging him forward. She had whispered, "Sure you can. Just start walking. Don't look back. Never. Can you do that for me, my love? My beautiful Kanha? Do it for me, won't you?"

"What about you?" Krishna had whispered, standing still in his spot, staring blankly at the beautiful canopy of vines that led out of their secret haven.

"I'll wait." Radha had laid her head on his back.

"But I won't come back."

"I'll still wait. Now, go! Be happy." She had pushed him one last time.

And so, Krishna had walked. Through the flowery gate, tears tumbling down, even as he had heard her hit the ground behind him, her sobs only barely audible.

He had walked straight into the arms of Balarama, who had been patiently waiting outside. Rama had seized his hand immediately, wrapping him in a warm embrace.

Krishna remembered hardly anything else of that day after that, except for Balarama's gentle voice ringing in his ear as he had walked, barely aware of his surroundings, "Just one foot in front of the other. Yeah? Come on, I've got you!"

---

He hadn't ever been able to bring himself to share his side of his life with Subhadra, even though he had already known that she would understand. If anyone could understand it at all, it would be her.

Subhadra whispered as she wrapped her arms around him once more, "First loves really don't die, I guess. I know you're strong, but you don't have to be this strong. Not with me!" She gently ran her fingers through his hair.

"How did we change so much, Bhadra?" Krishna exhaled, forcing his mind to move on, "You know, Rama and me? I wasn't the strong one, believe me, I really wasn't!"

"Well, one of you has to be!" Subhadra smiled kindly.

"Funny you should say that," Krishna laughed at the irony. Subhadra really did seem to be able to read minds at times!

Krishna continued with a sigh, "You know, Dau really got me through a lot. I was breaking apart, the first few months in Mathura! I really don't know what I would've done if it weren't for him shielding me all that time! And now? Now it hurts seeing him like that!"

"You know," Subhadra enclosed his palms in hers, "Maybe it's time you returned the favour. Hold his hand and freaking wrestle him out of this one! You know, no one else can! You two are after all the two idiots cut from the same cloth!" She chuckled.

Subhadra spoke with a wide grin against just as Krishna opened his mouth to protest, "Don't knock me, I'm the same idiot too!"

"That you are," Krishna conceded, shaking his head with a teary smile, "And here I thought you came just to spy on me!"

"A girl can do two things!" Subhadra winked as she bounded away, leaving Krishna laughing fondly to himself, as he let the cold tears that he had held back with all his might, finally fall across his cheeks.