En-route to Kaampilya, a few weeks later

The group of Brahmins were mirthful; it seemed their wonderful tales never ended.

 A fortnight had been the witness to their countless cognition. Sitting around the fire, there hoarse laughter echoed through the silent forests. The weather turned chillier, the searing dry winds that swept through the withered leaves made them draw closer towards the flames. 

The stars tapestried across the sky were in their phase of eternal vigilance of the worldly conspiracy that unfolded underneath. And the white celestial with a crescent arc would never dither behind.

"What? A Brahmin killed Bakasur?" One of them gasped, cupping his mouth as he blew air into his palms, rubbing it, "What are you even saying?"

The woodfire cackled as the chilly winds rustled past.

"Yeah! I had been to Ekchakra! Even a feast was held on the occasion!"

"Same here, I had seen Bakasur's dead body with my own eyes!" The other one chuckled, shaking his head, "The Brahmin who's turn had been to provide food to Bakasur, had said the tale himself!"

"Exactly! I too had seen it! It was some really extraordinary feat—"

"Bakasur's body was almost mutilated—"

"Goodness!"

Bheem rolled his lower lip, tossing the thick wood of the woodfire with a stick, while Yudhishthir kept his lashes lowered, peering at them subtly but not meeting their eyes. He pulled the deer skin closer, his jaws tightening imperceptibly to meet the twin's gaze and Kunti, who was lying on Nakul's lap with her eyes closed. 

It was difficult to mingle with the Brahmins like that. Rudraaksh beads had been wrapped around their arms and neck, there locks matted and knotted with holy threads. The deer skins had been doubled around their torsos, or smeared with ashes so as to hide the scars of battle.

"Brahmin Dev, you too had said that you stayed at Ekchakra during that time, isn't it?" 

Yudhishthir solemned almost instantly, growing stiff. Bheem's grip over the stick tightened. 

"Sire, that—"

"Did you see the Brahmin by chance?"

"No, we had been in the outskirts, rather—" Dhaumya covered up for Yudhishthir, "That day, that day—we missed the feat." The sage nodded cautiously at the eldest Pandav, who nodded back and turned away his gaze immediately. 

"Nowadays—nowadays, the deeds of the Kshatriyas are done by Brahmins or what?" A few laughed hard, while the others joined too, "Seriously, the Kshatriyas are turning good for nothing!"

Bheem peered at Nakul momentarily, who was staring at the flickering fire with a stoic gaze. 

"I can only imagine—now I feel like even Princess Draupadi is going to be won by a Brahmin itself!"

"True true!" A few of them chuckled along, "King Drupad has arranged such a difficult contest after all—goodness!"

"Exactly!" 

"Have you heard? That bow—that bow which is going to be used in the Swayamvar—"

Arjun abraded his new wooden makeshift bow with a lump of stone, his brows furrowing. His alert ambers had been nurtured to even see through the darkest of the dark; the faint moonlight was enough for him to narrow down the curvature of his craftsmanship. He stroked his knuckles over the arch, angling his head as his lips twitched, leaning against the Shami tree for a while.

"Kindhura?"

"Yes yes!"

"Exactly—I have heard that it has been crafted specially! So that no one can lift it!"

The splinters edged of the bow, as he tilted it slightly. The weight was yet not perfect. His brows curved down further. The cool winds stirred his unruly tresses, knotted by the Rudraaksh beads,  had lengthened within a fortnight—sprawled languidly over his shoulder.

 The silver striae flecked on his torso effulged under the soothing moonlight. The tranquil rays sanguinely cherished them. Those were the only ones gifted by divinity, rest were scars forfeited by nature and humanity. 

But Arjun had stopped paying them mind. 

"And even if someone did—that, that shooting the fish eye through the reflection?"

"Exactly! That too a rotating disc....."

The elastic vine was getting wrapped around on the bow's one edge. Arjun tightened the edges, abrading the uneven portions with the flint.

"Is that even possible?" 

"Seems like King Drupad is rather looking for the best archer rather than a groom—" 

He blew air of them, and a flare of splinters flew away. The icy cold air whisked through his tresses, but he didn't even flinch a bit. His jaws tightened as he firmed the vine over the bow's edge, zeroing his gaze down. 

"It will happen—happen—there must be someone who can! Is our Aaryavart devoid of young blood and warriors?" 

Arjun stretched the string of the bow with his thumb and index, for the taught. 

"Who knows—if it's a Brahmin only this time as well?" 

He released the string, his lips curling into a wry smile as the twang dissolved with the hearty laughter of the Brahmins. 

.

.

.

Kaampilya, Southern Paanchaal

"Pranaam Mahoday,"

The potter lifted his gaze up, halting with his work. His hands were clayed, a few hints of mud lay splattered in his scraggly long beard, as he wiped the layer of sweat from his forehead with his forearm. 

"Yes?" He stood up immediately with a tincture of slight collectiveness and reverence, with him discreetly wiping the mud off from his hands as he folded them, while stepping down from the dais. 

The fear of displeasing a Brahmin was real. 

"Please, how can I help?"

Yudhishthir gazed at his brothers for a while, his lips curving into a little smile, "Aarya......that we had came to witness the Swayamvar but....it seems like all the guest houses in the city are full. It will be very helpful of you if you allow us reside with you, just for a few days—"

"If, if only you're comfortable," Arjun added with folded hands, earning a nod from Yudhishthir. 

"No no what are you even saying Brahmin Dev!" The potter chuckled softly, wiping off his hands with his angavastra and shaking his head, "It would be our delight to be at your service!" Arjun could not help but feel a bit stiffened. Feigning what he was not was never his trait. 

"Maalti! Maalti! Look, we have guests in here!" Turning around, he called out for his wife, and within a few moments, a woman hastily stepped out of the cottage at his bidding.

"Pranaam Brahmin Dev," The woman bowed down with a polite smile on her face, catching Arjun off guard for a moment, and so did the brothers. He opened his mouth for a moment to say something, but closed it, exchanging a fleeting glance with Bheem. 

"Kalyanamastu daughter," Dhaumya was obviously the prompt one to bless, "May you and your husband lead a long life!"

"Daughter, can you get us some water? We're tired after walking for so long!" 

Rishi Dhaumya was amusing indeed. If not for Angaraparn, Arjun and his brothers could never have had him. The saint had a soothing charm within, his words and ways were always simple yet clever. He was happy with his holy stick and a pot of water, trailing along with the brothers; musing them with tales and songs of the divinity to cheer everyone up. Arjun had been never so close to a sage like that; of course his Guru Dron was a Brahmin too, but of course, he was far from Dhaumya in his demeanour owing to him being a warrior and their teacher. 

The woman smilingly went inside with fleeting steps along with the potter, bringing a pot of water for them instantly, "Maata, please come inside.....Brahmin Dev please! Sit here please, let me wash your feet first!" 

"Play along else your covers shall be blown," Dhaumya squinted his eyes at them as he muttered, stepping towards the dais as he sat down with a smile. Arjun gazed at Kunti and his brothers, who too had the same edginess. After all it was Dhaumya who had suggested them to be in the garb of Brahmins, to be safe and hidden, for Paanchaal would not have only Drupad, but tons of Kings and Princes from the other lands.

They were in a higher risk of having their covers blown.

He watched as the lady washed Dhaumya's feet diligently, while the latter had a smile on his face, blessing her again. She went over towards them, bowing down to Yudhishthir's feet, who tried to etch a smile on his lips, and following Dhaumya's gestured, blessed her; followed by Bheem. 

"Brahmin Dev, come forward please," The woman knelt at his feet, as he gazed down holding his breath momentarily, feeling the cold water trickling down his toes. 

The latter washed his feet, dabbing it with a soft cloth. 

'K-Kalyanamastu," His lips tipped into an edgy smile, as he raised his hand to bless, "Shall your wishes be fulfilled!"

.

.

.

"Shall we get some alms, mother?" 

Arjun and Bheem halted at a doorstep with folded palms, lowered eyes, and a faint smile on their lips. 

The streets of the city thrummed with the cacophony hurried footsteps, and the rhythm melody of vendors hawking their wares, a symphony of colors and fragrances filling the air. Vibrancy would be an understatement. The thoroughfares and alleys, usually abuzz with activity, were now alive with an extra fervor as workers adorned every nook and cranny with embellishments fit for a royal celebration.

Kaampilya was getting decked up like a newly wedded bride. 

And disguised as Brahmins, the five of them were expected to collect alms for their daily livelihood. 

The elderly woman nodded with a humble smile, moving inside her house to get them alms, as they waited. 

"Can't believe that King Drupad had established this capital within less than four years," Bheem leaned in towards his brother and whispered softly in his ear, staring at the extravaganza. Arjun's lips shifted up slightly in return.

 It was true, the war against the Kurus which had taken place a few years back had left half of the Paanchaal vanquished of its pride. Yet Drupad managed to shift his entire capital from Ahicchatra to Kaampilya, and made it a glorious city than what it was.

He was about to say something more, but the woman came out with a tray filled with rice and fruits.

Arjun extended his cloth sack with a little smile, "Maata? If you don't mind, shall I ask you something?" 

"Of course, feel free son!" She smiled back humbly, while pouring the rice in his sack.

"How long you've been residing here?" Arjun curiously gazed up at her. 

"It's been around ten years probably?.....We've been staying in Kaampilya before King Drupad shifted his capital here."

"But the time since King Drupad has arrived, Kaampilya has turned into wonders all over again!" The lady gushed, peering at him while handing out the fruits, admiration evident in her voice, "He turned this little unseen village into a glorious Kingdom! Really, may God bless the people with such charismatic rulers!"

Arjun stared up at her for a brief moment. 

Paanchaal had been one of the strongest rivals of Hastinapur, and that had only intensified after the war with them, for Guru Dron's rights. Being in a hostile environment where the Paanchaalans were eyed like enemies, Arjun too didn't have a good notion about the Srinjayas and their ruler, King Drupad. 

After all, when he had arrogantly denied Dron a share of his kingdom, even after promising him. 

That had boiled a young Arjun's blood, and he, before thinking twice had promised Dron; that by hook or by crook, he would be giving him what he was promised for. More than reverence for his teacher, he had the strong urge to give justice to a man who was wronged in his life, that too by his dearest friend. 

Often he would hear Dron grumble about Drupad, his friendship and how he had disrespected him in an entire courtroom that day. 

How could he be a good King then? One who couldn't fulfil the promise and forget his bosom friend? 

Arjun had seen Drupad; the day he had been captured. He hardly had any remorse on his face, but a confident stance. Dron was about to embrace him, thinking that the enmity had finally been mitigated and had also offered him half of Ahicchatra, but he stepped back and clearly denied with an unwavering voice. 

And that moment, Arjun had felt a flicker of unknown amusement for the King of Paanchaal. 

He didn't knew whether he was a good ruler or not, but the man had a strong sense of dignity for himself which he wouldn't let anyone tarnish by hook or by crook. 

If he had been defeated, he had been defeated. There was no sense of acceptance with charity and out of sympathy within him. 

Either he would win it, or lose it, like a true Kshatriya.

"Are, are you all happy being under his rule?" Bheem almost questioned immediately.

"Is this even a thing to ask for? We are blessed to have him as our King! He is a straight-away incarnation of God for us!" She wasn't lying, the way she was uttering everything about Drupad was genuine and not fakery. 

"May those be condemned who speak ill of our King," She muttered under her breath, making Arjun's breath hitch momentarily, as he shared an eye with Bheem.

The polarity was stark.

★★★★★★★★★

A/N

😍😍😍😍Finally Kaampilya pahuch chuke hai! *grins*

Btw, if you're waiting for Draupadi's entry, wait for another 2-3 chapters; unki entry ab direct Swayamvar me hi hogi.....actually this part of the book shall follow more about Arjun falling in love with Drau and his POV on her mostly. The next book shall cover more of Drau's POV about Arjun. 😌✨

Waise aajkal logo ko brutal truths bataye to unko wo bullying lagti hai pata nahi kyu 😌😌.

Audience ko bluff agar karsakte ho to backlash bhi sehni padegi bhai 😌😌.

Signing off for today!

Kiritija Nushkie