Names of Devi Rukmini (used in this chapter):

Laadobai - The people of Kundinapur address her by this name, as it's her birthplace

Padmapriya - the lover of lotuses

Padma: she of the lotus

Dwarakeshwari: Goddess of Dwaraka

Sridevi: another name for Goddess Laksmi (consort of Sri Venkateshwara in Southern India)

Ruchiranana: One who has a beautiful face, expanding like a lotus flower

Shree: another name for Lakshmi (Goddess of Fortune)

Rakhumai: Mother Rukmini

Maanini Mani: Jewel among women or supreme reservoir of love

Krishnaatmika: The one who is the soul of Krishna

Vaidarbhi: Princess of Vidarbha

The supple skin, sheathing the delicate eyelids, creased slightly in bliss before fluttering awake, to reveal the rested brown orbs veiled beneath. A soft sigh of gratitude escaped the parched, yet rosy lips, as the young skin of her cheek rubbed against the smooth silk, upon which her petite head currently rested. As alta-dyed fingers ran through the loosened ebony curls of her head, releasing the knots of tension layering the fibrous tissue beneath her soft scalp, the princess's dazed vision trailed over the many golden-thread embroidered lotuses splayed generously upon the flared skirt. The dark irises of her doe eyes, zeroing in on the reddish pinks of the cluster of minute opal stones filling in the blossom, against the rich maroon material of the priceless silk. Enchanting they were to the beauty-obsessed eyes of the beholder, yet unmatchable in comparison to the pristine petals of lustrous pink that seated, with utmost royalty, the one who cherishes and bestows significance upon the bloom of purity and enlightenment itself – Padmapriya.

"You've awoken, my dear?" came the honeyed voice of Padma, the eternal dweller of the pinkened lotus. "You should rest some more."

The drooping petals of the young princess fought valiantly to veil the soft brown orbs beneath, from the prying gaze of worldly eyes. Naturally, she desired nothing more than to immerse herself beyond all else, in the soothing sensations, woven by the brush of the Dwaraka Queen's slim fingers against the softness of her scalp.

"Mamishree, I apologize for having you sit here for so long. In this exact position as I slept," she sighed, mentally unwilling to part with the baby softness of the motherly fingers, only ranking second in comparison to the tender heart of the Goddess of prosperity.

"Don't be silly! Nothing can bring a mother more happiness than watching with delight, the peaceful slumber of her child upon her lap," Rukmini gently admonished her loveable niece, as she tucked away the stubborn lock of curl that found pleasure in caressing the radiant cheek of the princess. Despite the charming smile playing upon her lips, the kohl-lined blooming eyes of Krishna's beloved Queen, keenly observed the glazing of the young ones staring intricately upon the thread work bordering her sari. "What is bothering you, my love?"

Mitra dug her face against the silk sheathed lap of Dwarakeshwari, allowing the distinct smell of sandalwood, rose oil, and another fragrance - her olfaction could not quite perceive, attempt their magic at taming her muddled thoughts. Was it the fragrance of amrita, if the divine substance held one? The nectar of immortality, which the Devas and Asuras had desperately fought to horde ownership over, while releasing the goddess of wealth, who herself was its source, from within the deeper depths of the milky ocean? Whatever it was, not only soothed the inner turmoil of her senses, but along with it weakened her resolve to maintain a toughened façade before the mother of the three worlds.

With restrained drops of tears blurring her darkened vision, behind the tightly sealed eyelids, Mitra's muffled voice was as soft as a whisper. Solely audible upon strained hearing.

"Arjun Baba."

The two words she had mentally sung as a hymn, along with repeated utterances of 'Madhava' the night before, while desperately attempting to silence the thundering beats of her erratic heart that had suffered the gravity of the nightmare. The sole name that had given her a reason to endure the undetermined course of her future. One that no longer housed those she had known to be family, by the blazing fires of the funeral pyre, which had gorged the corpse of her father some years back. The man who had not only promised, but wholeheartedly honored his word, by showering her with endless unconditional love during each and every moment of her life, from that horrific day till this very moment. A love so priceless and powerful, that the longing, care-deprived heart of a hopeless child had desperately latched onto it for its dear life.

"Do you miss your father, my child?" came the soothing voice of Rukmini, posing the words as a remark, and not as a question.

Miss. What a simple and insignificant word to capture the entirety of the dreaded emotion she and the remaining survivors of the great war, whether royalty or not, had been cursed to endure for a lifetime! Did this damned emotion of suffering not have anywhere else to attend? Why loom over each being as a somber shadow without rest? Had she not deserved enough by being separated from her father, mother, brothers and dear family – who had lovingly raised her for the first ten, fragile years of her existence – leaving a gaping hole of loneliness in their absence?

Then came Arjun Baba, and her dearest Pandava family, securing her with the familial bonds that had been mercilessly snatched away from her guiltless life, by the results of the Kurukshetra war. Filling in the hollowness of the gaping hole of bereavement, with new faces that provided an abundance of love, sharing the limits of the sky alone. Yet, unable to completely conceal the cracks of the scars that had once been left behind by the initial emptying, now visible as a faded reminder. An unpartable souvenir of the past which she must continue to carry along into her obscure future.

"I'm sure he longs to see you as well, my darling," murmured Rukmini, her words managing to stir the bloom of a soft smile upon the lips of the silent princess. Whose heart felt soothed at the indirect mention of the parting acquiring its much-awaited end soon. Not that she wished with a desperation to depart Dwaraka and her Madhava. The feeling of being torn apart from either of them in her life, be it Arjuna or Krishna, would be sufficient to wipe out the flame of spirit kindling the reason to live within the young heart. But sometimes fate tends to orchestrate a gamble of its own, naturally favouring a future discourse for its helpless dependants, of which their hearts fervently wish against...

Mitra exhaled a shaky breath, as she ran the tips of her fingers over the golden threads of the embroidery framing one among the multi-lotus blooms. Her mind just as shaken as it had been the night before, as it desperately sought the clarity it required.

"Mamishree, may I ask you something?"

"Anything you desire, my love," came the soothing reply, propelling the thoughts clouding Mitra's mind to tumble through her lips as incoherent words.

"How does one learn to love without fear? Despite knowing that losing oneself and one's heart within that soulful bond is capable of shattering the very organ, if ever separated by fate?"

Rukmini glanced down, letting her eyes graze over the soul-wrenched pair of young ones, turned down. Unable to meet the affection-filled gaze of the lotus eyes raining down upon her, in which the young one could not prevent herself from visualizing a touch of sympathy. The child, despite not knowing guilt of her own, had indeed suffered as a result of the deeds carried out by the ones she had grown to recognize as family.

Love and affection provide a sense of security, a priority for all. Especially for children who have yet to grow. And a strong system of security, provided by the emotion, helps build the platform of confidence, belonging and self-esteem upon which their journey of life will commence.

The innocent heart had developed and cherished the love she held for these individuals, a handful among them whom the world may continue to view as sinners – the identification gained as a result of the series of unchaste deeds committed. And the Kurukshetra war, mastered and directed by the sharp, strategic planning of Dwarakeshwari's husband, had delivered due justice for the surmounted unjust deeds of many of these men. But unfortunately, it had also shattered the secure network of love-formed bonds known to the only surviving child of Karna, and along with it her trust in the surety and thriving ability of this divine spark of emotion.

"That depends upon whether it's pure love we're conversing about. Or the end result of that which has been alloyed with the offspring of one's inner ego, my dear."

Confusion marred the sharp features of Vijaya Nandhini, as she contemplated the riddle-like words of Madhava's beloved queen.

"Offspring?"

"The root cause of dissatisfaction, my love. We've termed it to be 'expectations,'" replied Rukmini, an enigmatic smile playing upon her lips.

"Is there a difference between the two?" questioned Mitra, as she shifted her position to lay on her back. The sari covered lap of the queen now supporting her rear head and upper back, as the alta-kissed palm of Sridevi rested upon the confusion-lined forehead of the younger. Gaze trailing over the blood-like hue of the sindhoor tilak, adorning the soft skin between the latter's eyebrows, Mitra felt herself being sucked into the tranquility of the pearls of wisdom that escaped the ruby-red lips of Ruchiranana.

"Love, my dear, is liberating and the base of our very nature. It provides the security that frees one from the imprisonment of fear, and other negative emotions that arise from its power. Whereas expectation is a belief that takes its birth from one's ego, forever accompanied by its eternal companion, known by the name 'entitlement.' They work in an opposing way from that of true love – binding one – giving rise to the fear of losing their loved ones."

"But feelings of expectation and entitlement, and the resulting fear of loss, are a natural part of love, are they not?" questioned Mitra, as her thoughts carried her back to the affection she felt for her Arjun Baba and newfound family. As sweet as it was, the emotion of love failed to escape the clawed grasp of uncertainty, stemming from the fear of losing them one day.

"Well, we've learned to combine them hand-in-hand, hence changing the meaning of true love, haven't we?" chuckled Rukmini.

"Why is it that they cannot co-exist?"

Mitra watched keenly as her aunt trailed a slim finger over the intricate crescent moons, carved upon the pendant of the golden choker adorning her conch-like neck. A tad bit confused by the small smile of wisdom that turned up the corners of Shree's lips.

"Do you know what substance this jewellery is made from, Mitra?"

A quizzical expression marred the features of the young Princess, as she replied with a newfound uncertainty, regarding where this conversation was headed towards.

"Gold, Mamishree..."

Rukmini chuckled, the sweet melody reverberating against the vaidurya-gem encrusted coral pillars, that internally swayed to the tunes of Devi's expression of amusement.

"Are you aware of the type of gold utilized in its making, my child?" the Queen further questioned, igniting a spark of thought within the young princess.

"Hmmmm...I believe I've heard Uncle Nakula once tell me that it's a series of metals mixed with the gold," replied Mitra as she failed to recollect the exact words of her younger uncle.

"And do you know why pure gold, alone cannot be used in the making of these adornments, my child?"

"Yes! Uncle Nakula told me that pure gold is so soft in nature, that it can easily be deformed and loosen its firm grip – hence allowing it to slip free of the jewel being formed. So, in order to create a stronger piece of jewellery – one fit for the material standards of mankind - the soft, pure gold must be alloyed with a mixture of various other metals, which will enable the hardening of the pure element," replied Mitra with a playful smile. For once, praising her ears for registering the depth of his explanations regarding the nature of the various gems, while allowing her eyes to graze over the stones. Each one emitting a splendid shine and hue, and adorning the various jewels he would have designed for her.

Looking up once again towards her loving aunt, Mitra felt the childlike smile on her lips falter, as she witnessed the mischievous glint no longer present in the eyes of the Chief Queen. Though the smile remained, its playful spark was now replaced by the glow of superior wisdom. With a shudder, the aspiring princess of the Kuru clan recognized the faceless presence of a deeper intent buried behind the conversation. It had not been about jewellery at all...

"Love, my child, is like the purest form of gold – that cannot be altered or forcefully contained within the material realms of creation, such as the formation of jewellery. It is so soft. So divine. And more than anything, it is of liberating nature; unable to be held captive within the clutches of manmade laws and order, forced to enact accordingly to the beliefs of mankind."

Finding herself tongue-tied by the analogy, Mitra stared into the ocean-like eyes of the mother, Rakhumai, bearing a depth of awareness beyond the knowledge of living entities. Yet, she willed herself to verbalize the muddled storm of thoughts ensnaring her mind – seeking nothing more than clarity among the words of the beloved queen of Dwaraka, coated by riddles and analogies, mirroring the nature of her bluish-black hued husband.

"Just as pure gold slips free from the binding creating the ornaments of mankind?"

"Exactly, my dear."

"Then, expectations and enlightenment, the offspring of one's ego you mentioned...are they...?"

"Your unspoken words have indeed sided with the truth. Just as the mixture of other metals, alloyed with the purest form of gold - allows the formation of a manmade jewel ornament, one's futile attempt at shackling the purest form of true love, within the iron constraints of the ego's perception of expectations – leads to another materially constructed understanding of love. A spurious emotion, guided by endless expectations and horded by entitlements, which worldly beings have come to recognize as 'love.' Yet, no longer selfless and unconditional in nature as it was in its purest form. When it had been the representation of the Almighty himself," smiled Rukmini. The smile subtle and charming, yet chillingly devoid of any sweetness. "Is that even love, Mitra?"

Mitra felt the wheels of her brain spin beyond control, as her petite ears registered the words of her maternal aunt. Have we all misunderstood the true nature of the one who had given rise to us beings? Along with the sole emotion that represents him...one that never fails to bloom. Even within the most tainted of hearts, it dwells without prejudice.

"Mamishree, if true love, in its purest form – free of conditions and selfishness, is the form of Bhagawan...does that mean...?" stuttered a tear-stricken Mitra, as the warm palm of Rukmini cupped her rosy cheek within its softness. "What really is true love?"

"True love, my dear, is selfless and unconditional in nature. Despite flourishing from within the depths of earthly beings, bonding them with one another, it is an emotion beyond this universe and its material constraints. It is liberating in nature, just as the one who it symbolically represents."

Rukmini smiled, as she witnessed the brightening of the pair of brown orbs before her. The stretch of her ruby red lips, further glorifying not only her lotus-like features, but the eyes of the beholder as well.

"Yes, my dear. Love is Bhagawan. The presence of the Supreme Being, through his teachings and blessings, continue to exist among us in this mortal world – yet it is by no means containable within the encased nature of man-made regulations and boundaries. Similarly, love – though dwells within the hearts of living beings, bonding them to one another in the name of various relationships - can never be contained within the boundaries of human expectations and entitlements. Just as the all-pervading nature and entirety of the Almighty cannot be caged within the names or mandates of any single faith, the soul-liberating euphoria of pure love cannot be encompassed by unrealistic or selfish expectations, stemming from the mind's inner ego."

Despite the dazed shadow hovering over the chocolate brown orbs, the quivering of the young rosy lips, betrayed the flickering thoughts within the princess's mind. The internal battle between the two opponents – one seated within the cerebrum, while the other within her chest. One satiated with the explanation of true love bestowed by Maanini Mani, while the other distracted by the nature of the emotion her heart bore for her loved ones.

If love was indeed liberating, why then was she caged by the fear of losing it? The fear she was well adept to by now, having been enlightened by the glowing embers of the dying fire of the pyre four years back, looming as a shadow over even the sweetest of memories.

"Mitra, my child, love itself is incapable of inducing pain. Would the Supreme Being ever intentionally inflict pain upon his children? Then how can love, the true form of that saviour, be painful?" assured the Goddess of prosperity, who had within a flash acknowledged the flickering nature of the battle, raging within the turbulent mind of her adored child. If not for her; she who had claimed herself an eternal residence within the heart of Lakshmi Vallabha himself, who else could possibly play a more appropriate witness to the love housed within the sanctum of his chest?

"It isn't. But, in order to dimmish the fear of losing those we love, we induce the burden of expectations and entitlements upon the sinless emotion. Calling it love, when in reality we have changed its liberating nature into that of one that is binding and suffocating. Just as we alloy pure gold with a mixture of additional metals, to enable the creation of jewellery aligned with manmade standards. It is no longer pure love, like it is no longer pure gold."

Rukmini smiled, the surge of delight apparent within her doe-like eyes, as she witnessed the comprehension brightening those of the aspiring princess.

"And when dissatisfaction surmounts, as pure love thrives within its liberating nature alone, nothing but fear, and its resulting sorrow remains within the heart of the bond, initially bridged by the emotion of the Supreme Being. And this has gradually given rise to the popular misconception citing 'love is painful' or 'love brings nothing but pain,'" she further explained.

As Rukmini gathered her close within the warmth of a motherly embrace, Mitra pasted her cheek against the silk-sheathed bosom of her aunt. As the gentle rhythm of the latter's heartbeats surged through her ears, and into her very being itself, Mitra found herself recollecting the images of the ones she dearly loved, behind her closed lids. She would never stop loving them. The love for her father, kept Karna alive in her memories. Likewise, her love for her Arjun Baba, will allow the bond between Vijaya and his Nandhini to thrive beyond their lifetimes. Till the end of time itself.

"Those we love immensely, may physically leave us one day, but that does not mean the love we share will evaporate into nothingness. Because that pure love within our hearts, free from all expectations and entitlements, one that is selfless and unconditional in nature – is the Almighty himself. And just as he never leaves us alone, even for a moment, the love does not either. We may not be able to visualize the presence of either, be it the Lord or his representation, but they dwell within our hearts always – where they are truly one. Knowing this, my child, why should you fear to love, and lose yourself in the euphoria that closely follows the soulful bond?"

And who would be better suited to reveal this universal truth, that has been present since the beginning of time itself, than the beloved Lakshmi herself? The Sita, who housed unending love for her Raghu Nandan, through both the thick and thin of their lives. Through both togetherness and a never-ending series of separation. We praise her for her immaculate inner strength, veiled by the divine femininity she adorned with such grace, through the various roles she enacted during her time. That of a daughter, princess, sister, wife, daughter-in-law, sister-in-law, mother and Queen. We bow down to the undying love she housed in her divine heart for Shri Ram, but we often fail to question where that strength rooted from. Where did the power to love so selflessly arise from?

The answer remains in the question itself. Selflessness. Her love was unconditional and selfless – free from expectations and sense of entitlements. How can you declare it with such precision and faith, you may ask? Allow me to ask you a simple question in return.

Who is Shri Ram - Raja Ram? Sita Ram? Kaushalya Ram? Vanvasi Ram? But who was he for Devi Sita? Just Ram. Her Ram. The one she loved with her entirety and more than her very self. To carry the love...to carry her Ram, dwelling within each and every cell of her heart, during the years of separation - that itself must have been sufficient. Where they were fatefully parted by physical distance, they were eternally connected by love.

The soulful melody, carried by the sweet cherry-blossom scented breeze, drifting in through the open windows, effectively coerced a drop of tear to slip through the sealed eyelids of Padma Priya. 

Forgetting time and place, Rukmini found herself immersed, soul-deep, within the tunes of her Kanha's wooden symbol of love. Emanating the sweetest melody, as it formed through the breath of life that escaped Murari's rosebud lips, and maneuvering of his butter-soft fingers. The one and only music, which effortlessly re-kindled the flame of young love within the heart of Dwaraka dham's magnificent Queen. Throwing her headfirst into the emotions endured by the young princess of Vidharba, years ago, as she lay sprawled upon the grassy diwan of her royal balcony, awaiting her Shyam's arrival. Her heart and mind longed nothing more than to follow the celestial notes of creation and let herself be ensnared within the arms of its composer.

Is this another reason why she is addressed as 'Chanchala,' you may ask, meaning the fickle-fortuned, restless one who is mobile and always on the move? Some may easily argue that she is the ultimate representation of prosperity, hence she is just like wealth – flickering in nature. I like many, agree with this statement – monetary wealth is indeed flickering in nature. The wealthiest man, in terms of monetary value, may be reduced to the state of a homeless beggar within a single night.

But are monetary possessions the only source of wealth, my lovely folks?

What is wealth and prosperity?

Is it not the abundance of valuable possessions?

Then tell me, is good health not valuable? Nor peace? Nor sense of dharma? Nor Devotion? Nor happiness and joy? Nor love? 

I may be wrong, but I believe the act of assigning a monetary value to any of these valuable possessions, will forever remain an impossible task. But does that mean they fail to be considered as wealth?

In the hearts that eternally house the Almighty, are these priceless forms of wealth ever at scarcity? If the answer is no...then you tell me. Does Chanchala really ever flicker away from her children?

"Taam Ma Aavaha Jaatavedo Lakssmiim-Anapagaaminiim"

Translation: (Harih Om) O Jatavedo, Invoke for Me that Lakshmi, Who does not Go Away.

Sri is Non-Moving, All-Pervasive and the Underlying Essence of All Beauty. Devi Lakshmi as the Embodiment of Sri is thus Non-Moving in Her essential nature.

Verse 2.1, Sri Suktam(Rig Veda)

"Your Keshav is calling for you, Mamishree," smirked Mitra, as a visibly flushed Rukmini gently pinched the nose of her mischievous niece.

"He's your Madhav as well, my love," smiled Rukmini as she pressed a kiss against the flawless forehead of Krishna's Priya Sakhi.

And what better way to describe the all-encompassing heart of Krishnaatmika? The heart of the mother goddess within her, accepted all her co-wives as her own, and acknowledged without a touch of hesitancy, rather abounding love, the eternal truth – her Krishna, her Narayana - belonged to each and every soul inhabiting this universe. The soul and shakti of Krishna, as attested by even the revered Gopikas of Vraj Bhoomi in the Gopala Tapani Upanishad. Forever accompanying him as his chief consort and marital companion. Simply put, she was his Lakshmi. As Sita was to Ram...Vaidarbhi was to Madhavam. 

And that was just my take, on the beauty of an imagined bond between our Mitra and Dwarakeshwari Rukmini Devi! Hope you all enjoyed it. Please do comment your thoughts and opinions on it - I'd love to hear them. And do vote if you like it :)

This chapter did touch on another sensitive topic - Love. What is love? I have penned down my views, but feel free to share yours in the comments - let's hear and learn about them!

Loads of love,

Geitha