"Is it still out of place?" asked a man in his late thirties, clad in royal garments. His sturdy legs were covered with an ankle-length mustard dhoti. A dark blue embroidered angavastram was neatly folded and kept on the stool beside his seat. His toned torso was covered with jewels which contained sapphires as big as his thumb. His hair which reached his broad shoulders played with the breeze. His face a shade lighter than his body sported an expression of uncertainty. His mighty arms capable of toppling over an elephant were performing the arduous task of braiding hair.

"Baba, for the hundredth time, what are you doing sitting on the throne, you should be a hairstylist!"

Drupad, the King of Panchal, a kingdom known for its craftsmanship and gender equality, chuckled at the jab of his daughter. Drupad had decided against getting married. He thought marriage would land him with a responsibility which he wasn't ready to bear. About nine years ago when he was hunting in the forests, he came upon a five-year-old girl lying unconscious. Drupad raised Shikhandini as his own. But even she had to go to attain her studies. He had set an example for his people when he sent her to the Gurukul of Rishi Krip and enrolled her not only to learn Sciences and Philosophy but also Warfare. But Drupad was left alone and distressed.

The kingdom did not reduce his problems either. The courtiers were corrupt and the commoners helpless. The age of Kshatriya had begun, there was less importance to craftsmanship and artworks. As the trade declined the coffers dried up. The new taxes imposed were difficult to pay. Riots broke out and famine took over. But Drupad was too busy in his sufferings to do something.

About six years ago the childhood friend of Drupad and the guruputra Drona came to visit Panchal when he heard the state of the kingdom. Drupad did not feel the need to put in words his anguish, as his dear friend understood it all. He reminded Drupad of the boon the patron god of Panchal, Agni had granted to his father. The boon was that when any of the descendants of Prishata would invoke the fire god, he would attain what his heart desired.

With two years of rigorous penance and dedication, Drupad was successful in invoking Lord Agni. With will he entered the area where the yagna was supposed to take place, with only the desire of the good of his people. As the yagna proceeded Agnidev was fascinated by the strong-willed King. When the time came for Drupad to receive the fruit of his penance the skies turned red, a voice boomed.

"Oh! Son of Prishata you have impressed me by suppressing your desires and asking for only the prosperity of your kingdom. I Agni will grant you everything your heart yearns! I was the very first to arrive on Prithvi so I grant your firstborn the ability to invoke any god or goddess and attain a daiviastra. He would instil fear in the enemies of foes, and pride in the allies. Your son will be undefeatable he will give you force, but your second-born your daughter will give you fame. She will not be confined to Panchal she will take all of Aryavarta under her wings! She will be both fierce and fiery like my fire! For those who do what is right, she will be nurturing like Maa Parvati, but for those who indulge in wrongdoings, she will be destructive like Maa Kali. Her spirit will be enlightened by me, and her soul by Maa Gauri herself, but her heart, that is what will change the course of history. She will not only remove your sorrows but of all of Aryavarta. Together your son and daughter will eradicate your sorrows and fill your life with joy, but do not get attached to them, as they are meant for bigger causes. You son after his immense valour will be known as Drishtdyumna! And your daughter will be known by many names, but the world will know her as your daughter, Draupadi!" It had been four years since Drupad had brought to the palace of Kampilya the new-born twins.

The four-year-old girl before him was adorned with a sky-blue dhoti and blouse. A light pink angavastram was pinned to the cummerbund and it went all the way up to her right shoulder and then coiled itself around her left wrist. Her black locks were tied in a vain attempt at a braid. It looked like the back of an old woman. A quarter of the hair was jutting out of the so-called braid and was being teased by the cool breeze which was playing. One of the strands kept getting into the girl's big innocent eyes which were curtained with thick eyelashes. The minimalistic gold jewellery looked distinguished on her caramel coloured skin. Anklets and toe rings gave attention to her tiny feet. Her face though showed innocence but also emanated knowledge. Knowledge beyond the four walls of the room. A knowledge she was too little to understand, but there was this one emotion she did. Yearning.

Her lips curved into a charming smile when she saw her brother waddle in, tripping over his orange dhoti. He was covered in dirt. Some of his jewels were missing. His hair which had been left open to dry were caked with mud. His angavastram was nowhere to be seen. His porcelain body was not visible due to the layers of mud and dirt. But his teeth shone brightly as he grinned proudly when he reached his sister without falling twice.

"Drau!" To the little boy, the name Draupadi was too much of a burden, so he gave her a nickname.

"Come I have to show you what I found in the garden. I found it under the big oak tree, come!" the boy took Draupadi by her wrist and dragged her with him, the girl complied smiling.

Drupad chortled seeing the antics of his children. With a clap of his hands, he ordered the servant to get Drishtdyumna's dhoti altered.

- : -

"But Arya- "

"Kunti, Bhim maybe six but he has the might of a valiant warrior, after all, he is the blessing of Lord Vayu himself!" said a man in his late thirties, his lower body covered with an ankle-length saffron dhoti. His torso was barely visible due to the red angavastram draped around his shoulders. His neck was bedecked with a necklace made of Rudraksha beads. If not for the royal ring of Kuru he wore in the index finger of his right hand he could have been passed for a hermit.

Unlike him, his wives were dainty and petite. The elder wife who he was consoling was dressed in the attire that of an ascetic woman. Her braid reached her back and her body was adorned with Rudraksha ornaments. Unlike her husband's peaceful visage, her face radiated the feeling of dread.

"Do not worry Jiji! Even Yudhishthira has gone with him and we all know what he can do if he gets a hand on a stick." voiced a woman darker in complexion than Kunti but a trifle taller.

"If I had gone too; they would be back by now!" huffed a three-year-old.

"Yes, my child but you are too small." replied the woman.

"I am older than him!" said Nakul the elder twin.

"Only a minute." murmured the smaller.

"I heard that Sehdev."

As the twins continued to jabber the mother of the two turned to Kunti again.

"Jiji, you shouldn't worry yourself so much!"

"Madri is right Kunti, everything will be fine, calm down." said Pandu the self-exiled king of Hastinapur trying to calm his wife down.

How could she calm down? Kunti loved all five of the children, but she fretted a lot for her smallest son since she had met the great sage.

Pandu with the two of his eldest sons had gone to get milk for the smallest son of Kunti and Mardi was in the hut tending to daily chores. Kunti was keeping an eye on the three-month-old who was trying to grab a butterfly while sitting on the ground when she heard a voice.

"She has been born."

She turned around about to shout for help, but then joined her hands in respect when she realised it was none other than the great Rishi Agastya.

"Mahatma, my household is blessed with the grain of sands your feet have touched. But I did not understand what you just said. Who has been born Mahatma?" asked Kunti.

"All of your sons will be cherished by generations to come. He- "said the Rishi pointing to the boy who was laughing uncontrollably for no reason now, "He is an exceptional child, but the world doesn't like to reward some even if they deserve to be. He will either go down in history as a man who created it or he will simply be forgotten."

Kunti couldn't comprehend anything but her eyes just kept pouring out tears, she fell to her knees, her hands joined. She didn't need to vocalise her question, sages of yore like the one before her understood the thoughts of the person just looking into their eyes.

"You cannot do anything. But who can has taken birth."

Kunti had taken upon her the responsibility of her son until the woman arrived. She did not have the heart to tell her husband about this and be the cause of any more stress. Kunti was about to say something when she heard the sound of laughter coming from behind the foliage. She sprinted towards the sound.

She saw her three sons chuckling at something one of them had said. The eldest was distinguished by his curly black hair. Yudhishthira had inherited his father's peaceful visage, he had a stick in his hand, which he held like it was the most familiar object to him. The eight-year-old was smiling but the one smaller to him was guffawing. Bhim had inherited his mother's fair complexion. He was wider than Yudhishthira and only a trifle shorter. Kunti ran towards the four-year-old between them and hugged the air out of him.

"Maa!" the lean child barely let out.

"Kunti, you will choke the child." chortled Pandu.

Realising Kunti let go of him, she looked at him from hair to toe looking for any signs of even a scratch. His hair had come undone from the bun she had made, his white attire which contrasted his hazelnut coloured body was covered with a little dirt but other than that he looked unharmed. His neck, wrists and biceps were adorned with Rudraksha ornaments. His bare feet were dirty from walking in mud. But his grin was as charming than ever, but it vanished when he felt a little jab of pain in his right ear, Kunti had twisted it.

"Maa, it hurts!" the boy feigned hurt.

"And what about when you leave without even informing me?" Kunti complained.

"I had only gone to bring flowers to adorn your braid Maa." he said pointing to a little cloth bag tied to his cummerbund.

Kunti released his ear, opening the bag finding small white flowers in it. She smiled.

"Near the hut, there are only pink ones, and they do not go with your attire you know!" the boy shrugged.

"Oh, what would I do without you Arjun?" Kunti exclaimed.

"Be judged by others for your lack of fashion sense." Arjun laughed and all joined.

Kunti caressed his cheek and made a promise to herself that she will keep him safe until the woman arrived. Arjun was made to write history she could see it. She would do what she could not only because of her love for him, but also for her motherland.

"Come let us eat." she said standing up.

"Yes, I made kheer today, your favourite Bhim." joined Madri.

"Did you say kheer?" Bhim squealed and ran towards the hut.

पुत्र है वो कुंती का

कन्या वो है अग्नि की

एक दूजे के लिए जन्मे है

पर संगर्ष होगा कम नहीं

प्रेम के ये सार है

कथा ये इनके प्रीत की

द्रौपदी का वो धनंजय है

संगिनी वो अर्जुन की