OS: Forgotten in Epic- I, Wife of The Mortal-Immortal COMPLETED - Page 11

😡😡Updateee😡😡

😡😡Updateee😡😡

😡😡Updateee😡😡

😡😡Updateee😡😡

😡😡Updateee😡😡

o.. bujhlam 😆

u should update now..its been long, and Mahalaya was just yesterday...what were u doing all those days..now no more excuses, we readers are 😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡

Last Part

Ghastly sound of burning skeletons is breaking the silence of cremation. Mourning of tired mothers, wives and children has resolved into sob. Only dying fire of pyres are getting alive with changing of corpses. In the mass murder only people who are busier than soldiers are the chandalas burning bodies the whole day and heaping up the tattered corpses whole night. These men may have killed each other in war, brave soldiers gave life in battle fighting for respective kings but see the irony, their lifeless bodies burned in same cremation, blended and ended in same ashes.

I am here, standing like a dumb spectator or might be like a specter, seeing everything and watching nothing. Smoke of pyre, nauseous odor of carcasses taking away my last breathe, still my stubborn mind keeping my feet rooted. Some elderly woman spared some sweet words for me, "what are you doing here?" she asked. I tried to recognize her, failed. Maybe my husband once helped her that's why the concern. Should I answer, "I am waiting for my husband." Today he is going to do the last act of donation. He will give the only thing he has left with, his something like life."

The day he came back with ripped body, gifting his gold armor to a disguised beggar, I thought he did his bestowed his best gift. What bigger gift this world may ask from him? How wrong I was. This world that shoved him away with despise has given him the title of "Daanveer," they won't leave him before having its requital to the fullest. He has to offer every bit of his breath, existence, emotion, heart even his soul. Giving everything only, he may finally attain his freedom.

After my first visit to Hastinapur after Sudamaan's death, this is the second time I came to Hastinapur accompanying my husband. I never saw him so tired, so dejected before those days. He always wanted a fair chance of displaying his talent. This war was his opportunity to prove many things to this dismissive world. No more disguise, no political deception, valor and power will choose the worthy one. But the man I was seeing, didn't want to prove anything anymore, only doing his duty. The arrows shot from his bows still have the fire, but the fire inside him was not enlightening him anymore only burning his soul gradually.

The night before the war when I heard Grandsire Bhishma refused to be in the same army where he is fighting and he promised until grandsire is not dead, he won't enter the battlefield. To be honest, I felt a selfish pleasure for a moment. A wife of a warrior can't afford such cowardice, we have to buy pride in exchange of peace every day. But with whom my pride and peace lies, he was only groping for something else, something I don't know, something that may doesn't exist.

A war was raging in land of Aryavarta, everybody could see so, but an unknown concealed war was going on within him. I asked him for thousand times. I don't have access of his dark indefinite lanes of his mind. From ages, I only felt his pain, what causes the pain remain only in him. He has hidden them within him. I only saw the fallen leafs, the injured root remain in oblivion.

That night he spent the whole night looking at sky. May be searching that very start of may be waiting for His God to rise. I make the question again knowing there will be no answer. A moment of silence, hundred emotions came and went on his face. Finally, two cold eyes brighten with a glimpse of smile, "I am betting on a lost battle, where either I lose or I lose. Still I will die in this war, undefeated. They took honor of a warrior's life from me, I won't let them snatch the glory of warrior's death."

His foresight was always so impeccable that often people would say he can see future. Sometimes, I am afraid they are not wrong. A strange realization stuck me that evening. A war can't be won with half hearted warriors and Kauravas are staking on them. But my husband had a clear stand from the beginning or did he? His loyalty dedication or friendship can never be tarnished, neither his confidence can be shaken. He has never been defeated before defeat, never thought of death before death comes to him. Then why such prevision? He said he is standing in the horizon of life, but didn't say who or what pushing him to cross the last fine line.

On eleventh day he entered the battlefield. And one night the news came, he has been chosen as the commander of kaurava army. I couldn't stop myself anymore. His God was rising in the horizon and I was the only aspirant beggar waiting for him.

"I came here with a wish of donation, will you give me?" I asked with extended palms as soon as he finished his prayer.

"Don't worry I won't ask for your safety, your retreat from war. My selfish prayer won't come in your path of eternal glory. If you aspire for warrior's destiny, I will accept it killing my heart." I said.

He didn't ask anything, his smile showed he understood my plea. He sat near the river, I followed him. "You remember Sudamaan every day. Every day you bring out his dresses, toy bow arrows to set them again." I was surprised that he saw, but Sudamaan's name on his mouth flabbergasted me most. He wouldn't talk about him since he burned his body. Today, after decades he is talking about our long lost son. I look at him, the cold stoic warrior wasn't there only found multilayered emotions playing on the canvas of his face. He resumed his words without turning at me, "A few days ago commander Dronacharya planned a Chakraujhya for trapping for Arjuna but a young boy, from Pandva side entered our solder-made labyrinth. Fearless, brave the beautiful boy entered the main arena riding on the chariot. For a fraction of time I felt my Sudamaan is coming across the time. Same eyes, same face, so beautiful. If Sudamaan were alive, he would have been of his age now. May be little older than him but would look like him. You should see him once, what a great warrior he was. Alone handed he fought with so many of us." He was getting excited while praising the boy.

" As per commander's order I had to break his bow, I did what a solder must do, followed the order. I knew his death was only matter of time. I saw how priece Duryadhana and others started their sadistic exhilaration around the boy's body. Standing by side of the boy's corpse I felt the futility of my life, only aimed to become master of killing art. And, see where it led me to a world that witness a father who recently lost his son doesn't afford little place to shed two drops of tears manifesting the inner burning in reprehensible brutal manner. Bhanumati was always right, bravery of warriors are just an illusion, deep down it gives the world nothing except a diabolic butchery of humanity. Forgiveness is not an option in this world, that day Arjun's son was killed today I may lose my son in his hand. At least Arjun won't know he is killing his own nephew."

I was dumbstruck. Did I hear right? Arjun is His brother? He is elder brother of Pandavas? He continued, "Yes, the mother abandoned me in river was Pandava's mother Kunti. Think, people whom till date I thought my sworn enemies are my brothers, my blood. That's why may be the hostility between us was creating a strong bond in diverse way. Krishna asked me to join Pandava side leaving Prince Duryadhana behind, forgetting his friendship, like a coward, power-hungry, renegade. I couldn't, I wouldn't. And then she came my mother with tears in eyes, with same demand during my morning prayer. I only asked one thing. Why her love for me came so late, just before the battle? But I wasn't expecting an answer. She came with an expectation, I promised her to leave her four sons, alive."

***

Today Ajun will come to fight with his arch enemy and He will fight with his brother. Even an amateur fortuneteller could tell the end result. And it ended like that. Only he wasn't killed in battle but when he was trying to pull his chariot's wheel stuck in mud.

At the twilight of his life his pride as a great warrior, his craving for appreciation of his archery was all gone. He had a realization that valiant warrior, stories of bravery all are insignificant. Everyone here is only puppet of a bigger conspiracy where at the end everyone lose. At the end he said, "I don't want future to know me for my Digvijay, but for my daan, and my friendship."

When did his wish is fulfilled in this earth! I can clearly see in future, he won't be remembered for his daan or for his archery but for his tragedy first. Solders have prepared the pyre, only the Sun God is taking forever to rise today. May be mourning over His death, after all he has lost his son today. Nobody is here except a huge man crying like a child. People say a single drop of water didn't form in his desiccated eyes after his brother and son's death before. A beautiful woman was sitting like stone holding her husband in her embrace. His inert body was lying in the pile of wood. With the first ray of Sun his mortal body will be burned forever. A noise slowly was getting loud. An elderly woman arrived along with six men. I recognized at one glimpse, five pandavas, the dark beautiful man must be Krishna and the woman is Rajmaata Kunti. I saw her to reach out for his body.

"Don't touch him, let him sleep." I never knew such anger, such austerity could come out of my voice.

"He is my son, don't I have this much right on him?" She said.

"Right comes along with duty, Mother. You can't claim even a bit of God's blessing once you discard it."

None of her sons came to stand by her. Only Arjun spoke slowly, "Forgive me Bhabhi Sri."

Even in grief a smile in my face, "You did your duty third Pandav, only if the arrow penetrated his chest, I wouldn't have any complain. He didn't deserve an arrow in his back."

"Your husband was a great human being. His story will inspire many in future .." I wasn't listening much only observing the speaker, Yadav-Sresth Krishna. Many say he is the avataar of Vishnu, indweller, omniscient. Today I really want what they say is true. No, not because he was saying kind words for my husband. But because I want him to read my heart, those unspoken questions, complains I have to God, to all, to this world.

The east sky is getting scarlet, reflecting the color of Kurukshetra, entire Bharatbarsha may be. Princess Bhanumati helped prince Duryadhana stand on his feet to do the last ritual. Second Pandava groaned, "that sinner doesn't deserve to burn my brother's body. Only Dharmaputra has the right to do this ritual."

"Pardon me Pavan-Putra, Dharmaputa is most virtuous man, his nobility is imperishable. But this sinner deserves to earn the little virtue of doing the pyre of my husband. Let the friend of Sutaputra do the cremation of the Aditya-Nandan." Said the queen of Anga.

Nobody uttered anything more. Yadav-sresth and Dharmaputa Yudhisthir silently nodded. Duryadhana added the holy fire in the pyre. The flame rose up and up towards sky, towards the Sun as like it is trying to return in its ultimate adobe, like it is praying to be one with amorphous omnipresent.

"Purify my life

with the purging touch of fire

Purify my life

With your blessings of blazing fire

Take unto you my mortal form

Make it a lamp of your divine abode

Let the flame of my song glow through night and day

The slightest of your touch on the dark frame of night

Let it spark a new star one after another

To illuminate the darkness

Let my vision be cleansed from all darkness

Whither alights my gaze may it see the light

Let my pain be ablaze and rise above despair"

~ The End~

The Poetry is NOT written by Me

This is translation of

Biswakabi Rabindranath Thakur (Tagore)'s song

Aguner Poroshmoni Choyao Prane

Thanks for loving this OS so much .. Love you all

Please Review n Leave a Comment😊

Sayanee its brilliant.⭐️ ⭐️ ⭐️ ⭐️⭐️ I actually dont know which words should I choose to express how I felt after reading this.You said it all so perfectly.His inner conflicts and regret after he came to know the truth.How shattered he might have felt.😭😭😭You told the truth a warrior's courage is an illusion.They are also human beings of blood and flesh.They are bound to have human emotions.And the way he spoke of Abhimanyu and his pain in having to play a part in his death.People usually neglect HIS feelings and speak like he did it all woth pleasure🤢The way he said I am betting a lost war😭😭Still people believe he didnt regret and work towards repentance.😕I felt bad for Duryodhan.As you said waging a war with half minded warriors is like accepting defeat before the actual one.

And then the last part 👏👏👏I felt proud of the Queen of Anga.This is the way I want his funeral to happen.I want everyone who wronged him to grieve and feel ashamed on knowing how great a sacrifice he did.I loved the what she said to Raajmaata onher shameless claim.And Krishna...I wish he could hear and understand the unsaid questions and conplaints.Wronging a man in all possible ways and then call it destiny or whatever

Yes you said it right.The world called him Daanveer and inturn took anything and everything from him.And also it is sad but truth h.He is remembered for his tragedy first😭

Loved it my dearest Karnali.Once again take a bow.This is the best story I read on Karna.It portrayed him the way he was not in the way we want him to be.And kudos for that.🤗

PS:How long should we have to wait for the next series????😛