Parikshit, my son. Seeing you play is such a delight to my old eyes. Your smile is the only thing that replaces the sight of the mighty Pandavas with their heads hung in despair and their weapons fallen at their feet.

My son, just as I see the future in you, you see the past through my eyes. So what should I tell you? Should I tell you of your grandfathers' failure to protect their son, or the bravery of your young father?

History is something that happened in the past and that shapes our future your gurus will teach you. They are wrong. History is what we choose to let you and others see. We, the guardians of the past, pick and choose the lessons you can learn. We, the Pandava'a did win the the great battle of good over evil, but both good and bad reside in your heart. As hard as you might try, you cannot banish one from your heart without the other. Sing songs of glory for your father and your grandfathers, but do not let the world forget Dhuryodhan's kindness, Karan's loyalty and Gandhari' s sacrifice. Be humble and remember the mistakes and wrongs that your family did and when possible atone for our sins.

Embrace the lessons of our past, my dear Parikshit, for it is through understanding both the light and darkness within our legacy that you will forge a future where compassion triumphs over conflict and wisdom guides your every decision. Son, you carry great Arjuna's bravery and Krishna's divinity in your blood. Use it to build a kingdom where the good in our hearts always wins, and your progeny never has to witness another Krushkshetra.