In the warm embrace of late morning, the sun bathed the lush grounds of Dronacharya's ashram in Varanasahrya, illuminating the eager faces of the young princes. Gathered in a disciplined line, they aligned their bows, each aiming at the target boards that stood resolutely in the distance. The sharp twang of bowstrings resonated through the air, mingling with the rustling leaves and the distant chirps of birds.

Ashwathama moved gracefully along the row of princes, his keen eyes assessing their stances. He paused before some, adjusting their grip on their bows, then shifted to others, offering a quiet nod of encouragement. The princes, filled with ambition and determination, absorbed every correction, their focus unwavering.

At a distance, Dronacharya stood upon a modest pedestal, his silhouette framed against the golden glow of the sun. His calm gaze swept over the students, observing the rhythm of their movements, noting both their advancements and shortcomings. With a sense of pride and responsibility, he contemplated the seeds of greatness he was nurturing, while the air hummed with the potential of warriors yet to come.

Yet, as he observed the young warriors, his attention lingered on Arjun. His form was fluid and poised, embodying the very essence of a master archer. The way the prince drew back his bow, the effortless grace in his stance, and the unwavering focus in his eyes spoke volumes of his potential. The precision of his aim was a testament to countless hours spent honing his craft; the arrow flew true, striking the center of the target with a satisfying thud.

His curly hair, a bit tangled from rigorous training, framed a face that bore the marks of both youth and fierce concentration. His big eyes were narrowed in focus, in them the copper-colored irises glistened with intensity, reflecting the determination of his spirit. His dark skin glowed with a silvery hue under the midday sun.

Clad in saffron garments that flowed like liquid gold, and adorned with rudraksh beads that hung like whispers of wisdom around his neck, Arjun embodied the ideal student—both fierce and serene. In that moment, Dronacharya felt a swell of pride. Arjun was not just a student; he was a reflection of his teachings, a promise of greatness.

As Dronacharya's gaze shifted from the impeccable form of Arjun, his eyes caught the sun, which now hung high in the blue sky, casting brilliant rays over the ashram. The warmth of the afternoon enveloped the training grounds. With a decisive thud, Dronacharya drove his staff into the ground, the sharp sound reverberating through the air. Instantly, the sharp twang of bowstrings ceased, and the princes turned, their focus shifting from the target boards to their revered teacher.

"Bhojan karne ka samaye ho chuka hai." He commanded, his voice resonating with authority. "Kuch der vishram ke baad, gadayudh se prarambh karenge."

The princes, eager to refresh their weary limbs, obediently set aside their bows, the forest floor now littered with arrows as they made their way towards the humble dining area. Laughter and chatter filled the air.

But Arjun, unlike the others, approached his preceptor with a solemn grace instead. His heart swelled with reverence as he reached Dronacharya. Bowing low, he touched his guru's feet, his eyes cast down, hands joined in a gesture of deep respect.

Dronacharya's gaze softened, a warm smile spread across his face as he observed Arjun’s humble adoration. Dron knew that his student's devotion was pure, radiating from a place of profound respect. This one always took a great deal of care in worshipping his
preceptor and showed the greatest devotion in learning the art of weapons. Dronacharya placed a gentle hand upon Arjun’s head, feeling the weight of responsibility he carried as a mentor.

"Utho vats." he murmured, his voice rich with affection.

As Arjun rose, his eyes shone with determination, embodying the ideals Dron had instilled. The acharya then cupped Arjun’s face with both hands, his touch tender, grounding the moment in sincerity. Dron leaned down, pressing a soft kiss on Arjun’s forehead, a  benediction that came right from the heart. "Yashavi bhava."

Arjun's expression brightened, a genuine smile breaking across his face, reflecting the admiration he held for his teacher. With a pat on Arjun's cheek, Dronacharya encouraged him to join the others for lunch. "Jaao, bhojan karke vishram karlo."

With a heart full of gratitude and pride, Arjun nodded, his spirit soaring as he moved towards the dining area. The shed overhead was woven with dried leaves, offering a rustic charm, while the raised floor bore the imprints of countless meals shared by eager students.

Arjun paused at the earthen pot, cool water glistening under the fading light. He cupped his hands and poured the refreshing liquid over them, washing away the toils of the day. The gentle sound of water splashing filled the air, mingling with the distant chatter of the other princes.

With a satisfied smile, he stepped onto the polished floor, where banana leaves awaited each prince like a canvas for the feast. The Kauravas, with their weary eyes, cast sidelong glances at him, their expressions betraying a rivalry that simmered just beneath the surface. Their jealousy was palpable, especially after the display of his archery skills shown by him a few moments ago.

Duryodhana's narrowed gaze bore into him, resentment swirling in the depths. Beside him, Dushashan leaned slightly forward, whispering something that made the others snicker, a cruel edge to their amusement. But Arjun remained serene. In these years in the ashram, had mastered not just the art of weapons but also the skill of ignoring the taunts and glares that had plagued him since he had stepped foot in Hastinapur.

Spotting his brothers, he made his way over to them, their faces lighting up at his arrival.  Yudhishthir, dignified and serene, smiled warmly, while Bheem, ever boisterous, nudged him playfully, a glint of camaraderie in his eyes. Arjun slid into the space between them, a comforting presence amidst the competitive tension.

The attendants of Dronacharya, clad in simple garments, approached with wooden platters, serving generous portions of dal, vegetables, and steaming rice. Laughter and chatter filled the air as the princes began to eat, savoring the meal.

Suddenly, Duryodhan’s voice, sharp as a blade, pierced through the jovial atmosphere. "Kaho Arjun, kya acharya ke charan pakadne se unhone tumhe kuch naya sikha diya ?"

Arjun, focused on the food before him, remained unperturbed. He methodically took a morsel of rice, his expression calm and unyielding.

"Arjun ! Uttar nahi hai kya ?" Duryodhan called again, his voice rising. "Gurudev prashnn karte hai toh sabhi uttar rehte hai tumhare paas."

Arjun, immersed in his meal, remained untouched by the barbed words. His focus was on the food, the flavors dancing on his tongue, and he maintained an expression of serene calm. The rivalry, the envy—it was all beneath him.

Frustrated, Duryodhan's brow furrowed, irritation clawing at him for the lack of response. "O Arjun !"

Still, Arjun remained silent, chewing thoughtfully as if he hadn’t heard a thing. He had mastered the art of one-pointed focus; the taunts of his rivals were but whispers in the wind. Silence enveloped him like a shield, an unyielding barrier against the Kaurava prince’s provocation.

Duryodhan’s frustration simmered, his internal seethe growing, for the reaction he sought remained elusive. Nakul and Sahadev exchanged glances, the corners of their mouths twitching as they snickered quietly.

But Bheem, his eyes narrowing, shot back, "Yadi Arjun nahi de raha, toh uttar mai tumhe de dunga, Duryodhan. Gadayudh mei."

"Chup raho dono !" Yudhishthir, ever the mediator, glanced disapproving at his brothers. "Shaanti se bhojan karo."

With that, the atmosphere shifted; the princes resumed their meals, though the tension lingered, crackling beneath the surface like a silent storm.

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A/N

Arjun be like - Tu mujhse bulwa ke dikha Dury 🌝
🤣🤣🤣🤣

And that's how you deal with half-wit bullies, you ignore them and don't give them a reaction.