Glossary:

Terms:

*Saraswati River – one of the Rigvedic rivers mentioned in the Rig Veda and other post Vedic texts. The Kurukshetra land was situated between both River Saraswati and Drishadvati.

*Dhanusha Tilaka – a bow and arrow mark worn on the forehead (created by a powder or paste)

*Gada – mace

*Bhagavan – another name for the almighty/God

Characters:

*Shrutakarma – the son of Arjuna and Draupadi (half-brother of Prince Abhimanyu)

*Uttara – wife of Abhimanyu and mother of Parikshit

*Shakuni – King of Gandhara; elder brother of Maharani Gandhari and maternal uncle of the Kauravas

*Shikhandini – the daughter of King Drupada of Panchala; she was elder to Draupadi

*Drishtadyumna – the son of King Drupada and the commander-in-chief of the Pandava army during the Mahabharata battle

*For clarification on other terms/characters - please refer to the glossary section of the previous chapters!

Meeting My Flower

'The scorching rays of sunlight were falling mercilessly on Kurukshetra today, as Lord Surya Narayana's joy appeared to prance beyond bounds. My arms ached with the intensity of an indescribable pain of a day's worth of practice, as droplets of perspiration rolled down from my hairline, transgressing their route over my throbbing temples, and down into the crevices formed where my shoulder blade met my collarbone. Yet, my ardent focus never betrayed my grip on the string of my bow, nor did my concentrated gaze leave the target of my arrow. I was the son of the one and only Gandivadhari, the symbol of his prowess. No amount of pain or heat would be able to digress my concentration from practice.

I was again drawn to the riverside by the Kurukshetra fields near the campsites, my preferred location to practice. The surrounding scenes of greenery bordered by the fresh flow of the Saraswati river bestowed a calming silence that never failed to provide me the peace my restless mind craves. Especially on the fields of Kurukshetra, where each day is dragged with the combined emotions of revenge, sorrow, frustration, fear, restlessness and pain – faithfully accompanying the mood of the war. With utmost precision, I drew back the string of my bow, letting the feather fletching of the arrow lightly graze my cheek, while planning its route to the target - the small star-shaped mark drawn on the tree, almost a quarter of a mile away from where I was standing. As a second droplet of perspiration escaped the confines of my matted hairline and travelled down the length between my scrunched eyebrows, to come to a rest upon the slope of my nose, I let lose my fingers gripping the string. And, immediately regretted my action – as I heard a small yelp, in response to the lightning speed of my arrow whizzing a mere inch before the nose of the beautiful young owner of that voice.

My Lord! Where did she come from? How could I not have seen her? If I had delayed releasing the arrow by even a fraction of a second, it would have surely pierced through her head! She was standing some feet away from me, appearing to have been overcome by shock. Hai Bhagavan! An arrow had just flown by, missing her head by a few inches! 

A petite girl she was, appeared to be a few years younger to me. I watched closely as she placed a slender hand over her chest - I assumed to help control her rapidly beating organ. I apologized for my actions and told her that I did not see her come in the way. Obviously, I would never have released my arrow if I had seen anyone in the near vicinity of my practice area.

That's when she had slowly turned her head to gaze at me...and I was lost in that first look itself. She was the most adorable young damsel I'd ever laid eyes on. Petite in size. Average height – not too short or tall. Skin was a natural golden hue, as if though she were radiating the splendid rays of Lord Surya Narayana from within herself. She was dressed in an ivory coloured lehenga skirt bordered with copper embroidery, and a maroon blouse which further enhanced her golden skin tone. The matching ivory shawl she wore, was loosely draped over her left shoulder, with the other end tucked neatly around her back. Ivory colours were a perfect match for her, I thought as I mentally chuckled remembering Pithashree's preference for such coloured garments. Medium-long length curly black hair that fell short just above her waist. Thin, but very pretty pink lips. Ever-sharp jawline, perfectly chiseled. A small, yet sharply sculpted nose. The natural arch of her eyebrows resembled the ends of two sharp arrows placed together on an angle. But the eyes. The eyes were the highlight of her heavenly beauty. Enchanting doe-shaped eyes, containing a dark brown orb each, quite fiery in appearance – complementing the rest of her fine sharp features. The eyes struck me as oddly familiar though, as if I'd seen them somewhere before. Somewhere on these very fields. But where?

Her silently fidgeting fingers and her once again averted gaze bore witness to the fact that she was nervous. But, what was she nervous about? Wait...was she nervous due to my presence? Ouch. Why did that strike my heartstrings? Why would I care if she feared me? Why should that matter to me at all? After all, she was a stranger and I share no relationship with her. Then why, oh why, do the deepest depths of my heart reach out to her? Did it want to identify a relation in her? Despite my brain hollering at me to turn around and walk away from the girl, my heart had other intentions. Succumbing to the desire of my heart, I had hesitantly taken a step towards her, while reassuring her that she need not be afraid of me, as I was only practicing and did not intend to shoot the arrow at her. And that's when she had again let her gaze meet my own curious one.

'You're going to scare the girl, boy!' my mind voice berated me repeatedly, while my heart whistled at my boldness for making the first move. 'Just relax! Do you see her flinching or turning away from you? No, right? She does not fear you. Look at her eyes. There's some sort of hidden emotion in them, and it looks like anything but fear!' my heart squealed. I stared with utmost intensity into her eyes and felt my curiosity tinged orbs change to mirror the confusion housed in hers. Why did she appear to be confused as well? As well? Wait...why was I confused? Why did I feel a tug at my heartstrings when she stared at me? Why did I feel a confused mix of emotions – joy, curiosity, longing, security, protectiveness...and what was it ...some form of newly blossoming love? My mind was no longer in control over my movements as I took lingering steps forward towards the strange girl, who had once again averted her gaze to her nervously fidgeting fingers. The young girl who somehow made my insides feel as if I've known her over multiple lifetimes. Just when I was within a feet distance from her, I had spoken up again, asking her who she was and where she was from.

Something within me cracked, as her gaze had snapped up to meet mine again for the third time, but now with fear clearly evident on her perfectly carved features. I was in closer proximity now to see her ragged breathing weighing her down, along with the beads of perspiration that had begun to break out on her forehead; oddly resembling the dew drops of fresh rainwater on the petals of a flower. 'She's now officially scared of you, brother,' my mind bluntly stated, while I desperately searched for my heart's siding voice. 'Why are my strings being tugged right now?' my heart's lazy voice questioned, finally breaking the silence in me. Exactly! Why did I feel dejected by witnessing the shock and fear in her eyes? If she was a stranger, why am I in pain?

Unknowingly I had reached out my arm, as if to reassure her that I meant no harm. Wrong move. As if though she feared I would strike her, the strange girl had abruptly spun on her heels and dashed away, leaving me standing there with my outstretched arm. I had tried calling out to her, requesting her to wait and telling her that she had no reason to fear me. Yet my words had seemed to fall on deaf ears as I remained rooted there by the banks of the riverside, watching her sprint back towards the campsite. 'Why are you confused now?' leered my mind, clearly annoyed at me for having fallen prey to the desires of my heart. Yes, confused I was. Confused as to why I felt like it was my dear Shrutakarma who had run away from me now in place of that girl. She was the one sprinting, then why had my ears deafened from the loud pounding of my heart, as if though it was I who had run a marathon? Why had I felt a tingling sensation in my blood, as if though we were meant to be bound by it?

The son of the great Gandivadhari, who by no means would abandon a practice session, despite whatever situation fell upon him, had collected his arrows to return back earlier than planned to the campsite. I had shaken my head with a light smile on my face, as I recollected the dazzling gaze and actions of the strange girl, who had somehow managed to both digress my mind from practice and ignite a very familiar feeling in my heart. Just as a flower - delicate and beautiful she appeared to be, yet had the power to change the emotional atmosphere of the place where she stood within a matter of minutes. A flower she was.'

The constant thudding of her tachycardic heart was sending shivers through her entire body, as Mitravinda clutched the diary tightly in her quivering hands. 'A flower,' her mind repeatedly voiced the written words of the late Kuru Prince, causing a smile to stretch ear to ear on her beautiful face, which currently housed a deeper shade of a rosy tinted pair of cheeks.

A chirping noise near the window of her room, shook her out of her blushing spree, as she raised her gaze to observe a beautiful male koel perched on her windowsill. She gently placed the diary on the soft mattress, as she sprung out of bed with a joyful glee; the euphoria clearly a result of reading the Prince's words. The curious koel cocked his head to the side, as he silently watched the Kuru Princess twirl her way to the windowsill, with his ever-observant beady black eyes.

"So, it wasn't just I who felt a familiar emotion being ignited in my heart in his presence!" she exclaimed to the bird as she blew a kiss to him, earning a high-pitched chirp from the bird as he hopped on the spot. Prince Abhimanyu had also felt as if though they had known each other for over lifetimes! Laughing, Mitra pirouetted around her room, in circles, leaving no space untouched by the pure-hearted joy radiating from each and every cell of her body. She came to a sudden halt, the blush still intact on her face, as she mumbled incoherently under her breath. Would he be watching her from above now? Oh, dear God! What must he be thinking? Obviously that his one and only sister was a complete lunatic!

Mitra was amazed at how accurately he was able to read her physical expressions that day! He had been able to conclude that she was curious, just by staring into her eyes. He had also sensed her fear when he had come into closer proximity to her. Her nervousness and fear had pained him?

She now regretted sprinting off, leaving him there alone by the riverside, even as he had called out to her. But what else was she supposed to do? He was a complete stranger then, and he was armed with a bow and arrow. How could she not have been scared? And, what did he mean when he had written that it felt as if his Shrutakarma had run away from him? And he felt as if though they were meant to be bound by blood? Had he seen a potential sibling in her?

A soft smile played on her lips, as she let her body slump to the cool marble floors; lightheaded from spinning around the room. She eagerly let her thoughts drift off to that beautiful afternoon on the sacred Kurukshetra fields where she had met both father and son for the first time. Two men who she considered to be strangers, and one being her father's arch-rival, were now two important members of her family. Her father and her brother.

"Brother, are you here with me now? Can you hear me? Why did Baba say that your presence or lack of would never dictate the need for me?" she murmured. "What made him so sure of that?"

'Chirping sounds'

Startled by the close proximity of the chirping sound, Mitra lifted her gaze to see the baby koel now perched on the golden embroidered patterns of lotuses, bordering her ivory white lehenga skirt – fanned out around her on the pristine floors. White and ivory coloured clothing was something she took preference to since her childhood days. Her mother had always stated that she looked nothing short of an angel when dressed in the heavenly colour, whilst her father would approve, but with a tinge of apprehension clouding his sharp dark-brown orbs. She had always wondered why, but the answer to that question had revealed itself over the last four years of her life – the fact that she shared this preference with her Arjun Baba, whom her father had considered nothing short of a rival back then. The koel cocked its head to the side, as he continued to regard her with his shiny black eyes, still hopping on the spot, as if excited by the flying gift of love received from her moments ago.

"What is it, my adorable friend?" Mitra playfully questioned her winged companion, with a grin on her face. "Do you have the answer to my question?"

As if on cue, the beaked friend of Mitravinda hopped again and flew, gliding over to her plush Queen-sized bed, and gently perched himself on the open page of the diary.

Mitra bit back a chuckle, as she failed to hide the amusement dancing in her chocolate brown orbs, as she swiftly got up from her position on the floors, and made her way towards the bed. She let her body sprawl lazily in a prone position in front of her feathery amigo, as she brought her head in level with him.

"Is this where my answer lies then, friend?" she questioned with an amusing glint in her sharp eyes, as she eyed the diary below her gaze. As if attempting to respond in his own unique style, the young bird reached over with his greenish-grey bill and gently pecked the tip of the Princess's nose – earning a heartful laugh from her.

"Very well then! Only if you'll grace me with your presence by joining me on the remainder of this read, my friend!" she chuckled with a tinge of playful formality filling her chiming voice.

As her feathery companion responded in his chirping native tongue, and settled himself comfortably on her right shoulder, the Kuru Princess rested her dainty chin on the surface of a plush silk pillow, as she once again allowed her eager eyes to dive into the ocean of the neatly penned thoughts of her elder brother.

'The booming voice of Uncle Bhima, as he was yelling about the well-plotted schemes of Grandfather Shakuni, was the only noise that kept me awake in the humid confines of the royal tent. Actually, I wouldn't use the term yelling, as any passerby near the tent would have sprinted miles away, having mistaken it to be the roar of a ferocious and starved lion. Either way, we had just returned from the meeting held with the Kauravas regarding the establishment of the rules and regulations of the upcoming war, and all my brain registered was that my father and uncles were currently discussing the audacity of the Kauravas for opposing Aunt Shikhandini's participation in the war. The rest of my thoughts were further away from my present location in the Pandava camp, some distance away, by the riverside again – submerged in the moments spent in meeting that unique flower.

I don't ever recall being this anxious towards wanting to be aware the identity of someone, as much as now. Who was that girl? Which family did she belong to? Was she on our side, or the opposing one? Could she be the daughter of one of our or the Kauravas' ally kingdoms? Her clothing appeared to be very simple, yet elegant – indicating that she may be a commoner. But, those features, he thought as he closed his eyes. The glow of her skin, the sharpness of her eyes, the elegance in her each and every movement. Could she possibly be of royal lineage? If yes – which royal family did she belong to?

I was roughly shaken out of my daydreaming, as Uncle Bhima's hefty hand met my upper back, in what he had intended to be a tap. Yet, the force of it was enough to have me nearly topple forward off my cushioned armchair...'

The feathery friend of the Princess chirped loudly, his way of shrieking, as he hastily flew off her shoulder, and accusingly watched her laying on her back – one hand clutching her flat abdomen, while the other covering her mouth; attempting to suppress the exiting sound. Yet, that proved to be impossible as the room filled with the joy reverberating from her heartfelt laughter, as she imagined the look on her brother's face, when he had received the way too familiar 'tap on the back' her Uncle Bhima never failed to gift them all with at times.

After what seemed like eternity, Mitra finally raised herself to a sitting position again, while wiping at the couple of tears that had cascaded down her cheeks, in response to the heartful laugh. She then searched here and there for her reading companion, only to lock eyes with his annoyed ones, as he sat perched on one of the plush pillows near the far corner of her bed. Biting back the chuckle that reached her lips in response to observing the annoyance playing on his features, Mitra let out a low whistle as she raised her eyebrows.

"Are we angry now? Come on, I just laughed! Okay, okay! I'm sorry I scared you, my lovely friend. I promise I'll provide you with a warning next time, okay?" she adorably replied to the bird, as he grudgingly flew back, and re-perched himself in his original position on her shoulder.

"That's my good friend. Now where did we leave off?" she questioned as she pulled the diary back into her lap, and let her eyes drop to the lines written near the centre of the page...

'I struggled to keep the inner thoughts from displaying themselves for view on my features, as I squirmed under Uncle Bhima's grinning gaze. He had asked me where I currently was, as I hadn't responded to them as they had repeatedly called my name. What was I to say? That I had met a strange girl, who I immediately felt an odd sense of protectiveness towards, and wished at the deepest depths of my heart that we had been related by blood? Just the way the words sounded in my head made me want to laugh. Then how would I possibly voice it? So, I opted for a safer answer, by shaking my head and telling them that I was just tired from practice.

The conversations then continued normally...up until Uncle Nakula mentioned hearing the sound of anklets outside the Kaurava tents during the meeting. The breath in my throat hitched, as my eyes snapped up in response to the statement made by the elder son of Grandmother Madri. I vaguely heard Uncle Sahadeva reply that this was not possible, as none of the Kaurava women chose to reside on the Kurukshetra fields during the war, and the women from our side did not come to the Kaurava side for the meeting. Just when I started to ponder whether the owner of the anklets could have possibly been the girl I saw by the riverside, Uncle Yudhishthira spoke up clearing the doubts – mentioning that he had heard that the daughter of Anga Raj Karna was visiting her father on the fields for a few days, so it might have been her. 

I was lucky that no one bore witness to the shock spreading its reign over my features, as my insides tingled. The sharpness of those doe-shaped eyes. No wonder I had felt as if though I'd seen them somewhere on these very fields. That strange girl by the riverside, whose one look tugged at my heartstrings. Whose one look made me feel both love and protectiveness towards her at once. The one who caused an unexplainable ache to spread in my heart, to see her run away from me in fear. She was the daughter of Anga Raj Karna. The daughter of my father's archrival. Oh, dear God. Shouldn't my mind be clear now after knowing her identity? Then why do I feel the beads of perspiration beginning to decorate my forehead again? Why do I feel the dull ache I had felt earlier in the major beating organ of my thoracic cavity, now multiply its intensity, as if though I were being attacked in the chest with a gada?

I vaguely registered Uncle Bhima mention that he never knew Anga Raj Karna had a daughter, while Uncle Nakula said something about the beautiful sound of her anklets itself, tells how ethereal she must be in person. A small smile formed on my face, as I mentally agreed with my younger uncle, once again picturing the golden radiance of her porcelain skin, contrasted by the rich maroon hue of her blouse and the curly black hair. An enchanting little beauty she was. A flower.

Somewhere in the background, I heard Uncle Dhrishtadyumna's voice as he mentioned something about her being the daughter of the enemy, regardless of whether she was beautiful or not. I was shocked to sense, the hot rage running through each and every nerve of my body in response to that statement. Why did I feel angered by that statement? Was it not the truth?

Then shocking everyone present in the tent, a low yet hard voice filled with semi-controlled rage, spoke up with a concluding statement, that forcefully placed a full-stop to the topic of discussion. "Daughter of the enemy or not...not my concern. Daughter she is, and that's all that matters to me."

My curiosity filled eyes lifted to see my father, avoiding all eyes and staring at the wall ahead of us, with tightly clenched fists. My father who had oddly remained silent and distant the entire afternoon, with a small smile lighting his features, had finally spoken something, and that too in defence of this girl? The daughter of his arch nemesis? 

With that he paid his respects to all present in the room, and made his way out, leaving all, except Uncle Sahadeva, confused in the room. I looked towards Uncle Sahadeva who had a small smile on his face, and when his gaze met mine, he blinked – which I understood to be a silent request to remain in the tent. 

When all others cleared out of the tent, I moved closer to my youngest uncle and took my seat next to him, as he wrapped a strong arm around my shoulders. The five brothers were all closely tied to one another, but uniquely unbreakable bonds were naturally formed between certain pairs. Like Uncle Bhima and Uncle Nakula, my father and Uncle Sahadeva formed one such bond. He read the deeper reasons hidden behind my father's each and every action or word, and vice versa.

As I gazed expectantly at him, he gave me a small smile in response, as he revealed something about my father I had never known. Apparently Pithashree had always wished to father at least one daughter; an unspoken wish which remained unfulfilled. Seeing Uttara's bond with my father-in-law, I've learned that daughters hold a special place in their fathers' hearts, which even the sons are unable to replace. No wonder, Pithashree always adored Uttara- his favourite student, as his own daughter, both before and after our marriage. He would support her always, regardless of whatever the issue may be which had us debating.

As Uncle Sahadeva left me alone to my thoughts, I sat there pondering over the words of my father. Now, it made sense as to why he spoke out in defense of Anga Raj Karna's daughter, despite her being his archrival's blood. He just saw her as a daughter, and nothing else mattered. Yet, something seemed to be out of place. Why did the warrior, who was capable of maintaining his composure in any given situation, seem to be so affected by Uncle Dhrishtadyumna's words? As if though he felt something for that strange girl. Maybe...just maybe, did he also meet her, like I did? What would have happened? And...if Pithashree can see a daughter in the girl...then can I not see a sister in her? A sister in my flower?'

A lone teardrop splattered itself on the inked word 'daughter', smudging the coal-blackness – resulting in hues of grey now surrounding the text against the faded yellows of the crisp page, as the Kuru Princess sat motionless with the diary clutched securely between her soft hands. 

Who had she run away from that afternoon by Mahamahim Bhishma's tent? The very arms which she wanted to desperately escape, had proved to be one of the safest and loving confines for her. Did her eyes, which were so keenly fixed on the distinctive Dhanusha tilaka adorning his forehead that day, fail to acknowledge the emotions at play in his sharp eyes, befitting the true warrior he was? Had she missed the unvoiced desperation to have her has a daughter and love her unconditionally, tinging the void spaces in the pits of his eyes?

The feathered companion of the Princess attempted to swipe away the lone tears that streamed down his newfound friend's cheek with a flap of his small wing, as an unnoticeable drop of sorrow escaped his own beady black eye – finding it's new residence in the confines of the smooth bluish-black feathers. With a look of gratitude, Mitra stared into the shining eyes of her companion, as the reality of her actions that day came tumbling down on her like a pile of bricks.

She had not sprinted away from the man who was the archrival of her father. She had run off from the father who saw a daughter in this oblivious girl...

To Be Continued...

And that is Part VII of Abhimanyu's Diary - hope you all enjoyed reading some more of the diary content this time! Please do comment your thoughts on it and what you think is about to happen now that Mitra has realized some more hidden incidents - I'd love to hear them all :) And please do vote if you feel it's a worthy part!

I'm really overwhelmed by the support and love you all showed for 'Chai With Mitravinda!' It was beyond expected, and I'm so happy you all got to learn more about Mitra :) Sadly, she has now returned back to her Dwapara Yuga time in Hastinapura to her family. But, she wanted to let you all know that she had so much fun, and says thank you to all of you for your suggestions and questions! Hopefully, when we reach the next milestone in this story - we can have her back again, along with another special character :) 

Thanks again for all your support and love - and I'm very much excited to continue this beautiful journey of DaanveerPutri with you all!

Loads of Love,

Geitha