Kaampilya, Paanchaal

Kaampilya was chirruping with hollering enthusiasm for fifteen days.

But the people had their breaths held only for the sixteenth day.

The Swayamvar.

The city looked no less than the heaven that day. It was as if the entire world had gathered there, just to have a glimpse of one of the majestic Swayamvars every to be held in the era of Dwaapar. 

A Swayamvar which no one had ever seen or heard. 

A test for the best. 

And it was the ego of every human to prove themselves that they are the best.

Drupad indeed had left no stone left unturned. Talking in air was never his way; he did what he meant.

The arena was appeared larger than what one could behold, with the very aura of the extravagance and majesty. Those who entered had their jaws hung down, their eyeballs jutting out at the grandeur. It seemed as if the King had brought down the Kailash mountain for his daughter, such vast palaces of white marble reflecting the golden hued rays like the peaks of the snow capped summits. The windows glittered with raw gold, and the walls sparkled so effortlessly that could make even the diamonds pale.

Florals of all possible hues were strung around, from one end to the other, the petals strewn on the floor, bewitching the ether with their maddening fragrance, added to it was the scent of agaru and sandalwood that had thickened the air, dominating. The thrones on either sides in honor of the royals appeared like huge majestic swans, studded with priceless jewels and shimmered without a bash. 

Trumpets blew and the echo of drums ruminated as the Kings, Princes and royalties from all over Aaryavart began to assemble, one after the other with eagerness and desire. Decked up from head to toe in all lavish and extravaganza, they filled the palaces built around, whispering amidst themselves, their eyes falling upon the one and only the bow.

The Kindhura bow.

Kept at the center was this weirdly constructed bow, which claimed itself to be lifted by none. Intricate carvings were made upon the edges, with linings of pure gold that glistened under the broad daylight. Rumors were widespread on how Drupad was himself in charge of constructing the mighty bow, only for the best archer of Aaryavart.

Some grumbled, some complained, while others were in awe. Some even huffed why the Princess wasn't allowed to chose a royal like the it happened? The handsome ones felt their looks were futile, while for the ones for whom archery wasn't a passion, had to rethink.

But everything fell flat when the heard about the Princess of Paanchaal....

That made them wonder that even a gaze of her would be worth enough, let alone whether they will win or not. 

Which man wouldn't love to have a look at the world's most beautiful woman? Even the ones who had dearly loved their wives couldn't help but dream about Draupadi, or weave dreams of having her as their own. 

The huge disc above the bow was rotating swiftly, with the wooden wish attached to it. 

The task was simple. Lift the bow, string it and pierce the fish's eye.

And Krishnaa would be theirs.

Simple? 

Well, with the speed with which the disc was rotating, had already made few of the archers rub their temples in their seats. Let alone the thinking of lifting the bow even. 

.

.

.

The crowd was increasing and so was the anticipation amidst everyone. 

Their eyes were fixed either upon the royals, the rotating fish or the glistening bow. 

Except for one, who had his gaze flickering at the entrance of the Swayamvar. 

"You think they will come?" 

Krishna's lips tilted up slightly, as he raised a brow and turned towards Balram, who had an amused look on his face. Everything apart, he had never imagined that his brother would be busy in admiring the entrance of the Swayamvar when all the extravaganza were within, but ah! 

His brother's fascination with Arjun was on a different level; they way they had became fast friends the moment the Pandavas had came to visit Dvaraka. . .

And Krishna only gossiped about had curly, unkempt hairs having a pair of agile ambers that resembled those of a Chakor bird; and the aura of the darkest clouds at the twelfth hour, endlessly for days after he had left with his brothers. 

"They would have to," Krishna slightly shook his head, leaning back on his throne, "If not here, where else they will go?" 

"And if they don't?" Balram too looked at the entrance. 

"Not possible." Krishna crossed his arms against his chest. The iridescent feathers adorning his turban swayed with the winds. Balram shook his head lightly with a little smile, and that's when Krishna straightened himself, leaning a bit from his seat and gazing at the flock of Brahmins that had just entered.

And he couldn't help but have a charming grin etched on his face. 

The five of them accompanied by Dhaumya immediately separated as soon as the entered the arena, with Dhaumya, Yudhishthir and the twins on one side, and Arjun, Bheem on the other. So as to not attract any unnecessary attention. 

The entire Aaryavart would be present there, along with the Kauravs and that of the neighboring Kingdoms. 

The Brahmins were mirthful, singing and dancing. The sounds of their trinkets ruminating along with the beats of the drums and trumpets, as they sang devotional songs. Dressed from head to toe in saffron, Rudraaksh beads adorned their neck, arms and matted locks and ashes were smeared over their bodies. In mirth and in trance, they hurled ashes all around. 

Arjun furrowed his brows, tilting his head for a while, reaching his hand out near his face as the ashes floated to smear him as well. In no time, his shoulders and arms were coated with a thin film of the cinders, and a small smile spread on his lips. 

Ashes, Lord Shiv's adornment. 

And for a moment, he could feel someone's gaze on him. 

Unwavered and deep, as if it was meant for him. 

Arjun began looking around, the ashes floating in the air hazing visions. He stepped back from the crowd for a while, and that's when his eyes flickered towards the other side of the arena, his gaze widening momentarily. 

He.

Sitting on the other side, as if he was the ruler of the three worlds. Embroidered Pitaambar was regally adorned him, a sharp contrast to his hue, reminiscent of dark storm clouds—deep, mysterious, and intense. He sat like a man defined of unyielding resolve, honed with acuity. There was a leonine vigor in his presence, an innate strength that radiated from him effortlessly, like a lion surveying his domain. His simple turban bedecked with irradiant peacock feathers, yet he wore it like a crown of the Lords. 

It seemed as if he was born to be the Lord of the Lords. 

Krishna. The mystical Prince of Dwarka. 

He didn't knew why he felt something, something within him suddenly. An unexplainable surge, as a soft exhale escaped his lips inadvertantly, "Krishna?"  He didn't even realize that he had muttered his name, unable to look away from the mystical and Godly man. 

Heck, he had seen him before, but everytime he saw him, he felt he was seeing him for the first time.

He looked so otherworldly, so divergent from the world but yet so worldly....

And that's when he saw his gaze flicker back at him, deep and enigmatic. And there bloomed on his lips, a smile that only grew wider.

Smile? 

Who was he smiling at? 

Did, did he recognize him? 

Arjun looked away for a moment, but Krishna's peeling gaze still lingered upon him, unbroken and the smile was intact.

 And turned back, his eyes locking again with his enthralling gaze, that only seem to draw him more into them. 

And he couldn't help but curve his lips slightly and smile back at him.

Ah. . . the memories, those fresh memories!

.

.

.

"Vijay..." Arjun flinched slightly as Bheem kept a hand on his shoulder, shoving close towards him. He gazed back at him, who too was smeared with ashes on his hairs, arms and shoulders and half of his face smothered. 

"Krishna," Arjun mumbled, cueing Bheem at the other side with a light smile.

"Oh yeah!" Bheem muttered, his eyes widening in awe as he chuckled, gazing at Krishna "My God, the way everytime he looks so Godly and regal, ouff!"

Arjun snickered softly, shifting closer to him and shaking his , "True that!" 

The Yaadavs were filling in slowly one after the other, taking their seats. Kritvarma, Satyak, Saatyaki, Akrur and Uddhav seated beside Krishna and Balram.  Little Saamb walked over with wobbling steps and quickly climbed on Krishna's lap, making himself comfortable while Charudeshna did the same on Balram's arms. Soon Kank, Prithu, Viprithu, Vidurath, Samik, Saramejay, Vatapati, Jhilli, Pindarak and Ushinar came in, assembling behind.

It seemed as the replica of the family of the Kurus. Outside, a family which had smiles on their faces but inside, their were untold conspiracies that were kept hidden for the sake of it. 

 They were the common cousins of the Pandavs and Kauravs through their ancestors, and it was extremely difficult to appease them into believing that Yudhishthir would be the worthy King of Hastinapur, not Duryodhan. Only God knew how Duryodhan had been appeasing the Vrishnis in the absence of them. Kritvarma was an important figure of the Yaadavs, but he was inclined to the Kauravs because of Bhurishrav. Even Saatyaki was a common friend of both Duryodhan and him. 

They could never get the entire Vrishnis in their support. Never. 

Also with the recent events of Dvaraka was stunning. Arjun had heard them vaguely, from around. 

The disaster with Syamantak was terrible; that made him wonder who exactly were in the support of the Yaadavs?

The ones who were trusted of Krishna had betrayed him in his absence. . .how could they?

The conspiracies of Dvaraka seemed so subtle, just like Hastinapur. 

Lust and greed could change the toughest hearts indeed. 

And the rulers had to forgive them, for the greater sustenance. And nothing could happen without a right time.  

************

A/N

That's the reason why Pandu and Drupad were friends 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

Anyway, we're FINALLY at the Swayamvar  *squeals* 😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍

Btw, wishing you guys a very HAPPY JANMASHTAMI 😍😍💘💘

Signing off for today!

Nushkie