Inside her chamber, Bhanumati, was getting really tensed. No one was telling her, what was taking them so long. Earlier, after the feast, Duryodhan had forbidden her to stay with Draupadi, who was in a separate chamber in the women's quarters, while the game progressed. He had said that they would all be back shortly before he had cuddled her to sleep. He had also asked her not to leave her chamber at any cost. The attendants and slave-maids were all tight-lipped and her premonitions were now welling up into a very distinctive fear,-

-Of something that she had always known in her subconscious to happen.

 And there was nothing that could allay her fears, even by the slightest measure. The silence that pervaded her chamber was too eerie, and only catalyzed her discomfort. She wanted to go out and see for herself but the doorkeeper would stop her, saying that the prince had strictly instructed her to stay indoors, and refused to acknowledge the reason. 

The awkwardness so characteristic seemed to heighten her susceptibility to her environs. Her senses searched around for the most infinitesimal sign that could perhaps provide a cause that could suffice the prevalent anxiety . Her feminine instinct directed her to strain closer to the door. 

Suddenly, she heard a maid whisper to another.

"Prince Nakul is now a slave. The Emperor lost him."

Bhanumati shrugged at what she thought she had heard. Clearly, she was having delusions. Or, the maid had lost her mind to frame a story that would pass for a very interesting topic for palace gossip. Flabbergasted, she strained closer to the door, praying, that this time her rationale that passed this to be delusional, would be true. 

"He has now pledged the other twin." the made spoke, sending her in a shudder.

Which meant, she was not having any illusions. 

This realisation struck her hard. Her face paled at the thought. 

Pledged Nakul? Pledged Sahadev? 

Her subconscious repeated the words, hoping that perhaps repetition would make them more believable. But they certainly didn't. Instead, they made them ten times worse than what they already were.

"The Crown Prince threw the crown off his head." the maid whispered.

So he had started, after all,  Bhanumati contemptuously concurred to herself. What Duryodhan hadn't got by fair means, he was ready to compensate by deceit. 

And this was very easy recompense, wasn't it? His uncle, the fiend- she allowed herself to vent her contempt for Shakuni, this once-, was taking the throws, maneuvering everything that would begin from the twisted rules of the Dice Game, to the rigid, yet malleable, hollow codes that the land stuck to, for what one would call order in their conduct of duties.

And that was they very reason, everyone was quiet, the conclusion came to her as easily as a thought. 

Codes sanctioned the objectification of a lot of things, including one's brothers. Bhanumati's urge to know the happenings of the Sabha increased exponentially. She had to see the extent to which they were willing to be pushed to the brink before the excesses warranted an opposition. 

She had to see how far would the righteous bear the burden of the wrongs that camouflaged themselves in the fragile, yet, resilient disguise of right that these statutes offered them. 

Enraged, she called the maids in.

"Tell me Mala," she said, "What were the two of you discussing?" she sternly asked. The maids flustered, they exchanged fearful, uncomfortable glances, as droplets of sweat trickled down their foreheads. They stood with their heads hung, not meeting the Princess's eyes.

"Mala!" Bhanumati shouted, her voice seething in a very visible anger, sending them in a shock. That was a tone they had never heard her use. It took them time to absorb the sudden authority that their Princess had demonstrated.

It only took another demanding glare from Bhanumati to extract all the information she need to have.

"Mala, Ruma, I want to know everything that happens in there." she ordered.

"But, Princess-" Ruma wanted to say something when Bhanumati glared at her, leaving her no option but to comply. 

Submissively, she scurried off to the Assembly Hall where she had been called to change shifts with the maid who was fanning the king till now. She relayed it to the previous maid and whispered her to go to the Princess's chamber, now that she knew everything. Also, the Princes had considerations, and cares far higher than the conduct of their retinue, they concurred, meaning vigilance on their activities would be minimal, if not negligent. So, off she went.

By and by, Bhanumati came to know everything that was going on in the Assembly Hall, as the maids relayed how Yudhishthir lost Sahadev, Arjun, Bheem, and finally himself. 

"What on earth is Radheya doing? Hasn't he voiced any opposition to these?" Bhanumati inquired when the maid narrated, how viciously Duryodhan had risen to kick the throne on which Yudhishthir had seated himself, after he had lost his final pledge.

The maid, looked around, in a gait of uncertainty. Perhaps, she was evaluating the propriety of Karna's conduct before Bhanumati. She hadn't missed the latent hope in the question posed by the Princess, who seemingly still held on to a faint belief in her friend's adherence to values.

Maybe she needed to bring a change in her notions, the maid thought, before phrasing all her musings in a simple-

"No, Princess. He hasn't said anything." 

She felt a twinge of pity for the Princess, whose bounds of patience seemed to be breaking themselves.

Bhanumati felt nauseous. By and by, as the course of their so-called "reconciliation attempt" unfolded themselves, she found herself losing faith in everything she held her belief in. Deceit was something, she detested, and yet she rebuked herself for being so foolish, as to believe that her husband would not cross any limits when it came to revenge.

She had placed an unconditional belief in him, and-

This was how she was being rewarded.

But then, wasn't this what love was meant to be? Unconditional, unadulterated belief? Pure, sacred trust?  Faith, that didn't warrant constant vigilance? Faith that stood, in all its glory and resilience to defy whatever might mean to defile it?

Or, was kingship higher than faith?  

Did the sceptre possess the power to shatter the fort built solely on the grounding block of trust?

Or, was the fort brittle enough to be broken thus?

 Despite all evidence, despite all the sanctions that reason, and circumstance, mercilessly stood posing in front of her, she could not bring herself to believe that her husband had orchestrated such a thing, the thought itself was horrendous.

Was he the same man? Or, was the man she loved, was a demon in disguise?

 All her muscles wanted to give up, her eyes wanted to shut themselves, and yet her mind wanted them to keep working, because, -

-She had to know, what he was doing. And the levels of ignominy he could descend to, in his pursuit of revenge to satisfy his magnanimous ego. 

Suddenly, another maid came in, floundering and gasping, while, Mala left.

"Princess," she puffed, "Panduputra Yudhishthir has now put his wife on stake."

Bhanumati felt another shockwave hit her, somehow sending a ripple of strength through her frail constitution. 

This was the last straw, she didn't care what consequence it would hold. The man had lost himself, and now, he had no right spousal, or ethical to pledge his failing fortune on his wife. She was no cow, or chariot, or any possession of demonstration, for that matter, to be gambled on. 

The gambler in Yudhishthir could not be allowed to afford this chance.   

Steeling her resolve further, Bhanumati somehow managed to get up, and strode to the door, only to be stopped by Lochini, her closest attendant.

"Bhanu, where do you think you are going? Don't you know that royal ladies aren't allowed in court?" she asked.

"How dare you stop me? How dare to stop the Crown Princess of Hastinapur?" she thundered, in a voice that she had never heard her use, ever since she had known her as a child. Lochini knew she was hurt, and yet, any more stress for her could be injurious and the Crown Prince's instructions, refused to leave her mind. 

They had to bear the brunt of the Princess' audacity.

Maybe with their lives? Who knew the limits he could transcend? If they could subject their own kin to this, if they could incite Yudhshthir to pledge his wife, in her blood, knowing full well, what that would result in, -

-He would certainly not spare them any consideration, would he?, The maid shuddered to herself.

Mustering all her courage, she spoke, "Bhanu, do you want us to be killed?"

She had done it. Bhanumati, slank back in defeat. She could not allow those innocent maids to be hurt, for following her orders. Her eyes finally gave up, as they grew crimson with her tears, that streamed on endlessly as her husband kept heaping injustice upon injustice on his own cousins. 

"Isn't there anything I can do?" she wept, helplessly eyeing her maids, as she sobbed.

That sight could have driven a stone to pity, as Lochini felt her vision blurring at the sight of the ethereal beauty of the Princess, renouncing the her patience. Her angelic eyes, that always stayed bright, their spark keeping the palace aglow, with their divinity, had dimmed into a night in which a jilted maiden awaited the return of her lost lover, hopelessly. Those cheeks, that could made the most exquisite of roses, eye them jealously, coveting their hues, had reddened even further, as if the Gods themselves had descended to touch them while she lowered her beauty to reflect itself in sadness. The light that the moon worn at the pinnacle of it form, adorned her flawless complexion, immune to the variations of time,had paled itself to suit her grief.

"Tell me, Lochini, isn't there any way in which this can be stopped? Isn't there any way is which we could get this news to Panchal? Wouldn't her father come to rescue her? Wouldn't time allow us the window to avert this?" She fruitlessly streamed on, as her maids fixed their piteous glances on her plight.

"There isn't anything you can do." She heard someone reconfirm that benighted conclusion.

A crestfallen Vrushali stood at her door. Her head hung in despair.

There was no time for any deliberations now. Yudhishthir would lose the pledge any moment. Any moment, some manservant would be sent to bring her to court, or-

-Bhanumati shuddered once more.

-Would they even spare her that minuscule of regard? Or-

-Would they bring her to court themselves, in her blood? Regardless of her state? 

The situation was such that she could not comprehend the lengths they could scale. They had made human beings as immaterial as cattle. 

 Bhanumati was aghast, as the instance of the Mayasabha ran in front of her eyes, in a blur. A fresh surge of fear hit her, as she recollected Duryodhan's envious wrath, after his insult therein. Draupadi, she had heard, had allowed herself a ghost of a smile at his expense, and now-

-That laughter of a court of full of people, that luxury of a momentary sarcasm, every memory of which ought to have been wiped clean, had resulted in a wrath that would unleash itself on them, in general-

-And Draupadi, in particular.

-" He will not spare her either! God alone knows what he has planned for Jiji!" she shrieked, making a fruitless attempt to run towards the door, only to be stopped again.

She found Vrushali, earnestly clasping her hand, preventing her exit.

"Bhanumati,-" she interjected, calmly, -"You need to accept this."- she said, making her sit on the bed. "You just need faith that everything will be fine." Vrushali continued while caressing her as she kept crying, helplessly, hating her husband for everything.

"Why Vrushali?" she cried, -"Why?"

"Such are the intricacies of the situation." she concluded. "This is time, when silence shall be vicious. When vengeance shall derogate the finest warriors to be mere fiends who seek the vile solace of deceit in their quest. Yet, I'm sure-" Vrushali concluded,- "That justice shall not elude us."

Bhanumati, wearily rested her head on Vrushali's chest. Hoping, her words came true.

"Calm down, Bhanu." Vrushali reassured.

"Just have faith." she said, as the other Princess began mumbling a prayer.

Faith was a luxury that she found too expensive to afford, as her fortified faith had just been impaled by a treacherous swords of deceit.

Meanwhile in the Assembly Hall, Yudhishthir, lost Draupadi to Duryodhan.

Notes:

1. The gif image above, has been made by the superbly awesome Anushree on Tumblr. Do shower  on her all the glitter you have on:

vajratak.tumblr.com

And/or,

chingariya.tumblr.com

2. The event of Duryodhan's insult in the Mayasabha (more aptly, The Hall of Illusions), due to his fall in a pool that he had presumed to be solid ground, has had many depictions till date, of the involvement of Draupadi. Most of which, end with Draupadi mocking the Kaurava scion saying "Andhyasya putra Andhaha! "(A Blind Man's son is blind, referring to Dhritarashtra). However, for this story, another version, where she merely smiles has been considered.

3. This is merely a work of fiction based on mythological references, and folklores, and the like. Factual errors might be existent, hence, any comments, criticism, evaluations, rectifications, hollers, shouts, screams, and EVERY POSSIBLE THING OF REACTION THAT PROPS UP TO YOUR IMAGINATION, are welcome with-

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