The sun bathed the city of Ujjain in a warm golden hue as the morning bells chimed from the grand temples, calling the faithful to prayer. The streets, adorned with vibrant marigold garlands and colorful banners, overflowed with jubilant citizens.

Words have spread like wildfire, how their Rajkumari Krishneshwari was labelled as the Putrika by Maharaj Dilip, destined to ensure the throne’s legacy.

Elderly men exchanged knowing glances filled with pride, while women adorned in colorful garments whispered to one another, their eyes sparkling with hope. They envisioned a future where her son would embody the strength of a lion and the wisdom of the ancients; a ruler who would guide Ujjain and Avanti to unparalleled heights. Because they knew Krishneshwari to be Akhand Maharani, her divine essence instilled confidence in the hearts of the people.

Brahmins and priests discussed the auspicious signs, recalling tales of the Harihareshwari. The belief that Krishneshwari was an incarnation of this divine being infused the air with optimism. They envisioned her son as a ruler destined to uphold justice, embodying the virtues of valor and wisdom.

Meanwhile in the royal gardens of Ujjain, sunlight filtered through the lush canopy, casting dappled shadows on the ground where laughter echoed. A group of young girls, their silken garments billowing like butterflies, flitted amongst the blossoms, calling out for their beloved princess.

"Rajkumari ?"

"Rajkumari Krishneshwari !"

Their voices danced on the breeze, a melody of innocence and joy. At the forefront was the daughter of Hemant and Hemlata, Hemangi. The energetic and carefree girl, darted forward, her eyes sparkling with determination.

"Krishneshwari ! Kaha hai aap ?" She shouted, her voice mixing with the chirps of birds.

They weaved between rose bushes and marble pathways, their giggles filling the air with joy. Suddenly, a glimpse of movement caught Hemangi’s eye. High above, in the branches of a sturdy tree, was their beloved Krishneshwari.

The princess's dark hair cascaded like a waterfall, framing her cherubic face as she expertly navigated the branches. While the entire kingdom of Avanti was talking about her and her destiny, she remained blissfully unbothered by the weighty label of Putrika bestowed upon her, remaining untouched by the burden of expectations.

With one foot on a neighboring limb, she swung her arms, feeling the thrill of the wind against her skin, a wild spirit untamed by the expectations of the world below. The girls below gasped, their eyes wide with admiration and a hint of concern.

"Rajkumari niche aayiye !" Hemangi said, her voice laced with concern, but the princess was unfazed.

Her enchanting heterochromic eyes, one fiercely red and the other a warm tawny brown, gazed intently at a cluster of ripe fruits on a neighboring tree. With a determined leap, she landed on the branch of the neighboring tree. There it was—the golden fruit, glistening like a jewel, hanging tantalizingly from a bough. She reached out, fingers curling around its warm skin, a triumphant smile blossoming on her face, a goddess in her own right she was, echoing the carefree spirit of childhood.

Sitting comfortably on her perch, she took a moment to admire her prize, its vibrant hues matching her joyful aura. She bit into the sweet flesh, juice dribbling down her chin. The sunlight danced upon her golden complexion, giving her an ethereal glow, a touch more sun-kissed, as if she were a living idol of gold.

Below, Hemangi stood with hands on her hips, eyes wide with a mixture of concern and authority.

"KRISHNESHWARI ! Abhi niche uttariye !" she called, voice echoing with urgency.

"CHUP !" Krishneshwari told, her voice playful as she picked up another ripe fruit, and threw it down toward her friend, who ducked just in time.

Hemangi gasped in surprise, "Krishneshwari !"

The other girls erupted in giggles, the sound ringing like delicate chimes through the garden. However, Hemangi’s sharp glance silenced them instantly, her authority unspoken but palpable.

"Rajkumari, kahani sunane Sut ji padhaare hai." One of the girls said.

At the mention of their dear storyteller, Krishneshwari’s face lit up as if illuminated by the sun. She swiftly climbed down, her earlier defiance forgotten in an instant, replaced by the prospect of the stories that awaited them.

The thrill of curiosity propelled her as she darted past Hemangi and the other girls, her laughter ringing like chimes in the breeze. "Shigreh karo !"

As they followed her, the garden echoed with excitement. Krishneshwari could already envision the tales of valor, wisdom, and adventure that Sut ji would weave. As they approached the room where Sut ji awaited, the air was thick with anticipation.

Krishneshwari flung the heavy drapes aside, and they entered, breathless and wide-eyed. The room was adorned with vibrant tapestries depicting heroic tales, while the scent of aged parchment lingered in the air.

Sut ji, a man edging on old age with a beard like wisps of cotton, sat amid scrolls piled high, his fingers poised over an ancient manuscript. At the sight of the princess, he sprang to his feet with a graceful bow, joining his hands in reverence. "Haiheya-kul deepika ki jai ho."

Krishneshwari beamed, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. With an infectious smile, the princess, settled onto her ornate seat, her friends clustering around her in eager anticipation.

"Batayiye Rajkumari, kiski katha sunengi ?" The suta asked, his voice resonating with warmth, "Apne Mahabahu Haiheya Purvajo ki ? Chakravarti Bharat ki Vijay yatra ki ? Ya fir Maharaj Nal ki prem kahani ?"

Krishneshwari, her brow furrowed in contemplation, shook her head, "Yeh sab toh swarg sidhaar chuke hai, Sut ji. Aap vartamaan ke kisi veer ki kahani sunayiye na. Aryavart mei sabse shresht, sabse sarvottam, devtao ke samaan koi yoddha hai ?"

"Ha Sut ji." Hemangi nodded, "Aise kisi Mahabahu ke baare mei batayiye, jo humare samkaalin hai."

Sut ji paused, a thoughtful smile spreading across his face as he gazed at the bright-eyed princess and her friends. "Ek Mahaveer hai toh sahi. Yu toh woh koi Raja ya Maharaja nahi, apetu ek saadharan Rajkumar hai jo abhi Gurukul mei hai. Kintu fir bhi, uska samarthya aisa hai ki samast Aryavart usi ka gun-gaan kar raha hai."

"Kaun ?" Krishneshwari implored, leaning forward, her sparkling eyes wide with curiosity, her friends mirroring her excitement.

Sut ji cleared his throat, the parchment scrolls cradled gently in his hands. "Swargiya Samrat Pandu ke kshetra mei Indra ke kripa se janma, aapki Taishree Rajadhidevi ki badi behen Kunti ka teesra putra, Arjun."

The room buzzed with excitement. The girls exchanged glances, their hearts pounding. Whispers of awe danced between them as they gazed at Sut ji, eager to hear more about this prince.

Sut ji continued, settling into his narrative, "Aisa kehte hai, ki uske baan pavan ki gati se bhi teevra hai. Yu toh woh kshatriya hai, kintu uske mukh par tapasviyo wala tej hai. Hai woh Rajkumar, kintu Yogiyo ke bhaati saral swabhaav ka hai. Dikhne mei simha ke bhaati kathor, kintu hridaye ka ati-komal hai woh Arjun."

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A/N

Chalo ab naam le hi liya hai Arjun ka toh dekh bhi lete hai ki Mahanayak kya kar rahe hai aaj kal 🌝❤️