Stumbling on a block of wood, I tried to breathe but the smoke was everywhere. My lungs were burning in need of air but no relief was granted to my withering self as perhaps, the Gods were punishing me for the wrong decisions I took throughout my life. I could feel the pain, the pain of the embers marking my skin, it had an unpleasant warmth to it. Dancing on my clothes was enjoying my inability to escape or as a matter of fact, do anything. The sheer pain was making my mind foggy, my thoughts were clogged and even the smallest tug on my skin was somehow registered. I wanted to pass out but it wasn't permitting me to do that either. The dreadful smell of flesh burning was driving me crazy. Slowly, the fire was engulfing everything, my body, my clothes, my senses, and finally my will to live.

"Gandhari!! Stay conscious, we are going to get out of this." I heard the voice of the person for whom I had spent my whole life, he was my joy, my love, and also my sorrow. He was, is, and will always remain my everything. Wrapping his arms around my waist and whispering gently into my ears he mumbled again, "We are going to get past this."

I heard a sob escaping Kunti's lips who was standing near us but I was too occupied focusing on my husband in the last moments of my life. Just me and him, a dream that I was unable to achieve in my life. My knees gave up and fell on the ground, the crunch of dry leaves next to me indicated he sat down to support me. The pain of being engulfed by the flames, the pain of burning alive was traumatizing but I cared about it in the very least as finally, my husband was there, there for me, there for Gandhari not the mother of his children or queen of Hastinapur. I pressed my head on his chest. His irregular heartbeat due to smoke and worry was melodious to me as if someone was playing some sort of beautiful musical piece or perhaps a lullaby to nudge me towards the calming embrace of death. Albeit, it was laced with agony but the comfort of his presence was gladdening, relieving to some extent.

He continued to croon things about escaping and having a beautiful life ahead but that was not what I wanted to hear, at least not at the moment. My hands were feeling sore but I still managed to raise them and put a finger on his lips. I could have never imagined doing this bold move but in the end, I want to cherish every moment I had for him. I gave a small smile to him and said

"It's okay Arya Putra..... at least we are... together." I coughed out, trying to calm him.

"No Gandhari, not yet." He tried to convince me but all my will had depleted now. The death of our sons has taken a huge toll on me as well as on him, but he always tries to put on a façade. He had always been like this, a child who built a wall around him which is hard to climb but once you cross that you would see him, scared, curled up, who is just looking for a little safety and a little care.

"Aryaputra, it is now over. We have nothing to live for." I said the whole sentence trying not to cough in between. The smoke was affecting my ability to speak. The anguish of blazes on the body was searing through my abdomen as if someone was branding me. Without meaning it, I curled into a fetal position, tears dripping from my eyes and soaking the strip. It is the same strip that gave me an identity to me, the one that became my sacrifice and the source of my pain. In my last moments, he was accompanying me.

"I think it is true, perhaps nothing is left." Arya finally conceded. Tiredness was easily detected in his voice. He was never like this, the valour and strength in his voice were always present, like the one a king should have, but it too died with my 100 sons. I still remember the day. The eighteenth day of that bloody battle that took away all I had created and preserved for so many years. I tried to get that thought out of my mind because at the end of my journey I don't want to think about it. Yes, the event is now 'it' for me. Some scars disappear as time passes by but not this one, the death of my kids shall always remain a taboo for me.

"Gandhari dear, in this life I had failed many people but the one that I hurt most is you." He cupped my cheeks and whispered near my ear.

I cannot listen to this, I could have never imagined my husband in such a defeated state. Who would have believed that this day would come when the King of Hastinapur would be cornered in such a state where he felt almost hopeless and dejected with life.

He thinks I am disappointed in him, maybe I am but I would never let him know that. He is my husband and he doesn't deserve this. I have to stop him from crumbling like this, he shall always remain the valiant king he was known for. God knows how much I wanted to stop him from feeling that, coax him into believing he was a good husband, a good father, and a good king but the smoke I inhaled has completely rendered my speech now. All I could do now was grudgingly let myself drown in misery and self-hate.

This was now how I wanted to give closure to life but I lost, I lost against the wretched destiny of life. I hate it, the feeling of losing again and again. Whenever I perceived a thought that was even a bit optimistic, a thought that allowed me to knit a chimaera where achieving the sweetness of life is even a bit possible, the wretched vines of destiny snatched it away from me. It tormented me my whole life and looks like this luckless serendipity won't leave me in the last moments of my life too.

Like a self-defence mechanism switched on, my brain started to induce me with hallucination so that I could escape these thoughts of self-disgust and I readily let it do that. I saw my whole life passing through my eyes, those childhood memories that I buried deep down in my heart. I was laughing, running around, smelling flowers, making garlands... And being happy. Those eyes, the innocent eyes I had untouched by the cruelty of the world, pious and curious. It has been a long since I last saw them, I reached out for the girl to touch those eyes but the scene changed.

It was not Gandhar anymore, it was a battlefield. I saw the horrifying scene of bodies lying everywhere, blood was flowing like a stream, blood that had might once streamed through my son's veins. I heard people wailing and crying in agony. I turned and tried to run away but the next scene stopped me. I saw m- I saw my once biggest pride, my joy, my son Duryodhan. He was fighting some warrior. I felt my throat go dry, I just stared at his face. He slaughtered the warrior and finally, he looked at me, his body was covered with blood, his one hand adorned mace while the other was resting on his waist. He truly looked like the embodiment of the God of war, ready to slaughter his enemies.

A smile bloomed on his lips when he registered me, standing there, drinking his glory with pride before raising his hand, the battle stopped and all the other warriors turned into dust except 100 warriors, my 100 sons. They all together stood in front of me, all of them looked valorous and they had this peace on my face. I looked at all of them greedily trying to remember all of their faces. This was the first time I truly looked at them. My son, the one whom I raised with all my love, care, and devotion, my sons who committed innumerable sins yet I cannot do anything but love them, my sons, who were mercilessly slaughtered on the battlefield.

I slowly took my steps toward them and reached out my hand to touch their faces. Duryodhan strolled forward and guided my shivering hand to his face. My first son, I ran my palms greedily on his face, this was the face of my son and even though I know I am hallucinating this pleasure was is incomparable. Tears started flowing down my orbs. After so many years I was again able to feel the presence of my son. I took my next step toward my second son and I felt his face to identify who he was. At the first touch itself, I knew it was my second son Dusshasan.

"Dusshasan?" I questioned though I knew it was him he just smiled and nodded. I repeated this whole process on all my sons, relishing the contact of my fingers on their skin and call it my good memory or the love of a mother I knew, I just knew who was who regardless of the fact that I never saw their face. My 100 sons, my 100 pieces of heart. Duryodhana, Duhsasana, Duhsaha, Jalasandha, Sama, Saha, Vinda and Anuvinda, Durdharsha, Suvahu, Dushpradharshana, Durmarshana and Durmukha, Dushkarna, and Karna; Vivinsati and Vikarna, Sala, Satwa, Sulochana, Chitra and Upachitra, Chitraksha, Charuchitra, Sarasana, Durmada and Durvigaha, Vivitsu, Vikatanana; Urnanabha and Sunabha, then Nandaka and Upanandaka; Chitravana, Chitravarman, Suvarman, Durvimochana; Ayovahu, Mahavahu, Chitranga, Chitrakundala, Bhimavega, Bhimavala, Balaki, Balavardhana, Ugrayudha; Bhima, Karna, Kanakaya, Dridhayudha, Dridhavarman, Dridhakshatra, Somakitri, Anudara; Dridhasandha, Jarasandha, Satyasandha, Sada, Suvak, Ugrasravas, Ugrasena, Senani, Dushparajaya, Aparajita, Kundasayin, Visalaksha, Duradhara; Dridhahasta, Suhasta, Vatavega, and Suvarchas; Adityaketu, Vahvashin, Nagadatta, Agrayayin; Kavachin, Krathana, Kunda, Kundadhara, Dhanurdhara; the heroes, Ugra and Bhimaratha, Viravahu, Alolupa; Abhaya, and Raudrakarman, and Dridharatha; Anadhrishya, Kundabhedin, Viravi, Dhirghalochana Pramatha, and Pramathi and the powerful Dhirgharoma; Dirghavahu, Mahavahu, Vyudhoru, Kanakadhvaja; Kundasi and Virajas. I recognized all of them and all they did was smile,
Without any word, sans any other expression to deliver. I had so much to say to them but I knew they were just the illusion created by my mind and none of my messages would reach them.

Slowly they all started turning into dust but surprisingly I was unaffected. Something inside told me, I am going to meet them again very soon and they are happy and safe wherever they are. I closed my eyes and smiled. The burning sensation returned, I screamed in agony and my breath hitched for once before marking the last moment of my life. Finally, I was free, finally, everything was over, finally, all my miseries departed, finally, I would be together with my family without the care of dirty politics. I died smiling in the embrace of the man I loved, the man I sought after. What more could I ask for?

Hellos folks! Yeah, I started the story with the death of Gandhari, hope you like it. Don't get confused we would talk about Gandhari's life in the next chapter. Again this is fiction there are very few things true in this story

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