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With his mouth still open, Krishna swallowed everything inside him. When finished, he looked back down and smiled at Parth, who was seated on the chariot. Parth hugged his own knees and bent down to hide his tear-stained face. Everything was back to normal now, or at least, semi-normal, for time was still frozen.
There was a long, long silence. Krishna walked over slowly to the chariot, eyeing the horses and then Arjun. Arjun sat there, dazed, astonished, simultaneously believing and disbelieving. Yet, he also felt a sense of utter calm, as if nothing and no one existed, except them two. Slumped back in his seat, he watched Krishna slip into the driver’s seat in front.
Krishna spoke with a very small smile, eyes tranquil. “I need no apology. I want you to call me Madhav, Parth.” It took Arjun a minute to understand what he was talking about. Krishna turned behind a little now. “I am the Supreme Being, but I’m also just…Madhav.” He turned and took the reins.
“Wait Madhav…”
He turned. “Yes?” His voice was a mere whisper.
Arjun glanced up at the blood red and gold sky. His breath hitched in his throat. His mouth had suddenly gone very dry.
“Let time start again right now.”
“Wouldn’t you like us to go back towards our army first?”, he asked curiously.
Parth shook his head almost imperceptibly. “No.”
Sensing something imminent, Krishna gave him a long look, which he returned with a boldness matching that of a warrior about to face the greatest challenge of his life.
This is as it should be, thought Govinda benevolently.
He gave the entire battlefield a long, hard look. Instead of returning to its previous blue colour, the red-gold of the sky was replaced with a mellow early morning shade of golden-orange. The sun hadn’t reached its peak yet without the passing of time, but for some reason, this atmosphere too seemed strangely hard to place — one still couldn’t tell whether it was sunset or sunrise.
Time restarted. Birds frozen in the air continued their flight. All the other humans and animals present began to stir. Horses neighed, elephants waved their trunks about. Duryodhan’s mace fell into his hand. Dushasan, Ashwatthama and Shakuni wielded their respective weapons, faces glaring up with enthusiasm. Bhishma, Drona, the Pandavas, the Kauravas, all the warriors on both sides — all continued what they had been about to do as if nothing had happened.
But before anyone could even start lifting their conch to their lips, Arjun grabbed his conch Devadatta, and brought it up to his mouth.
He blew into it with a vigour surpassing that which he would have blown it with before any great battle.
Make no mistake: they were very much in the midst of — quite literally in the midst of — a great battle that was about to begin.
Except…Arjun wasn’t blowing the conch with the intention of a warrior. Yes, he had developed the right mindset of someone who needed to do his duty now. But this specific act of his wasn’t a tribute to battle.
He blew long and hard, the sound reverberating across the plains of Kurukshetra. It caught everyone’s attention. It took Bhishma, Drona, the Pandavas, Virat, his relatives, Drupad, Dhrishtadyumna, the Kauravas, Shakuni, Shalya, Ashwatthama and the kings allied with the Kurus and all the soldiers quite a moment to realise that Arjun’s chariot had suddenly left its strategic position. It was now in the centre of the battlefield.
Arjun did not care who was thinking what. All he cared about was that everyone should watch. Everyone should see. The sound needed to — it must — reach everyone, capture their attention. He blew until his breath gave out.
Scanning the plains, the sky, everything, he quickly saw that every man’s eyes were on him and him alone. Some people were calling out, wondering what on earth he was doing. Soldiers were shifting, watching with a mix of tension and confusion.
Arjun put down his conch.
He put down his Gandiva.
He let his dupatta slide off him and onto his seat.
Then, he clambered over to the front onto Krishna’s seat.
Madhav frowned. “Parth…?”
“Is everyone looking here?”
“Hmmm? Yes, they clearly are…” Arjun could have sworn he was about to smirk.
Arjun positioned himself onto Krishna’s lap.
Krishna’s breath hitched for a second. His eyes widened. The weight of Parth’s thighs against his own was impossible to ignore. The warmth of his hips, which were now subtly shifting over him, made him lick his lips in anticipation. He was the Supreme Creator…what was wrong with him…?
Instinctively, his hands went up to Arjun’s abdomen, which was hidden under the layer of his white pants, that were bound securely around the lower part of his silver armour.
“Parth..”, he breathed.
Parth pushed him back gently against the seat. His eyes were devilish, dark with desire and determination, a stark contrast to the tumultuous emotions in them mere minutes ago.
Arjun quickly looked up. There was the Kuru army, facing them. Many of their mouths were hanging slightly open, and many soldiers and royal warriors had begun scrambling about to see just what was going on.
He turned around. His own army was behind them, looking just as bewildered.
Both armies were spread out across the vastness of the landscape. And their chariot was in the centre. The centre that controlled everything within its area of reach.
He turned back to Krishna, his own breathing erratic now, filled with disbelief and sheer, pure excitement. Shifting closer, he cupped Madhav’s beautiful dark face — oh dear God, that handsome face he’d been pining after for who knew how long — in his palms.
All this happened within the span of twenty seconds, or even less perhaps.
Then, he leaned down and placed his lips on Krishna’s. Fully, completely.
He felt pleasure shoot through him, hands trembling violently. He really was Madhav — as sweet as his name. He traced his tongue over his lower lip momentarily, tasting the faintest trace of honey.
Krishna’s lips…well…what to say? What word could do any part of him justice?
They were soft, utterly perfect. Now instead of honey, they tasted like rose petals, next moment like a sweet nectar which he couldn’t name. He dared to probe inside his mouth, with his tongue, flicking it over Krishna’s teeth.
As for Krishna, he felt as if the world were swirling around him. His eyes opened and shut repeatedly. He briefly saw stars behind his closed eyelids. Parth…he felt and tasted exactly the way Krishna had always known he would. God himself was dumbfounded, taken aback.
Oh, but he wasn’t going to let this moment go so easily.
Everyone stared. And they stared. They stared again. They continued to stare. And they stared some more. The staring didn’t stop there. It never stopped, in fact. They stared. They stared .
Every single soldier who could see it froze on the spot, confused, not believing what was happening or why. Others who couldn’t see so clearly shifted about frantically as unrest began to spread among the ocean of all the soldiers standing in the front.
But at least, they were clueless.
The royal Rathis, Maharathis and Atirathis, on the other hand, could see everything. It was in full, clear, broad view.
Bhishma had frozen as if an invisible force had taken over his body. He stood with his arms hanging limp at his sides, lips slightly parted. His only movement was that of his long silvery beard occasionally being tugged by the wind.
Was this the moment of shock, that abstract feeling of nothingness that he knew he would feel right before his death? Or was it the feeling of being born, that feeling a newborn would feel, completely unable to comprehend the world around itself?
Dhrishtadyumna, a warrior whose force resembled that of Indra’s thunderbolt itself, now seemed more like a spear that had lost all its vigour and strength due to wear and tear. Involuntarily, his legs gave way and he fell into his chariot seat with a thud, startling his driver. He opened his mouth, wanting to say something — he didn’t know what — but no words came out. He turned his eyes to the right and was met with yet another sight.
His father Drupad was leaning so far ahead over his charioteer’s head that the driver was beginning to struggle to push him back. His eyes were bulging out as if he were watching a lion or a cow walking on its hind legs. The sight had him fixed.
Duryodhan was blinking so rapidly that the world seemed to be like a candle lighting and extinguishing repeatedly within the span of half a second. His mouth was hanging so wide open that he was beginning to look more like a large fish about to swallow something whole. He shook his head wildly, turned toward Bhishma and called him.
How many times he called out to him, he lost track. Bhishma seemed to have gone deaf, watching his grandson.
Arjun’s and Krishna’s lips continued playing over each other’s, Arjun taking the lead, relishing being able to dominate over Madhav this way. Keshav’s eyes rolled up into his head as ecstasy took over him. Their bodies were pressed against each other, Arjun’s hands wrapped around Krishna’s neck. Now, he extended his tongue deeper into the passageway of Madhav’s mouth, all the while slowly rolling his hips against the other man’s lap.
A gasp and groan escaped Govinda. Even such a sound was melodious. It echoed across the landscape, and this time everyone heard it. Clearly. Even the now selectively-deaf Bhishma.
Drona felt as if his nose was about to bleed. His brain was stumbling over itself as it struggled to connect to his body, especially his eyes and his mouth, which he suddenly found could not form coherent words. His eyes took in the scene unfolding shamelessly before him with even more clarity than all the times he had ever taken in the sight of a target he was going to shoot.
Bheem’s entire body and soul had gone on a pause. He was gripping his driver’s seat so tight his knuckles were going white. His jaw was gaping much like Duryodhan’s, his own tongue almost hanging out of his mouth as he watched, transfixed.
His younger brother, so serious, pure, sweet-hearted, ever-obedient… he was now devouring Vasudev’s mouth much like how Bheem could devour laddus or any other food. His little brother and his cousin, both lost and drowning in the deep pool of pleasure they had flung themselves into.
“Jyesht…” He turned to address his brother, but saw that Yudhishthir’s hands and legs were trembling violently. The eldest Pandava felt his eyes beginning to water, the shock was way too much for his already over-stressed state of mind.
Now he watched helplessly as Arjun sucked on Vasudev’s lower lip. He barely pulled away long enough to repeat the action on his upper lip, before his mouth was suddenly on Keshav’s chin, planting butterfly kisses and sucking playfully on the little adorable dimple there.
Yudhishthir made to open his mouth, but found that instead of speaking, he croaked . His voice had begun to go out. His breathing was becoming more rapid by the second and suddenly, Bheem knew what was going to happen.
Yudhishthir reeled slightly and was promptly caught in time by his charioteer. He flopped down onto his seat, but his eyes never left the scene. They couldn’t .
The Ashwini twins’ eyes had become so protuberant now that they both almost resembled a pair of handsome young deer. They had been thrown off balance mentally, though they kept themselves steady physically. Sahadev squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again and again, willing himself to get out of what surely must be a bizarre dream.
Nakul’s reaction was quite the contrary. Though he was clearly gobsmacked, his mouth was curving upward ever so slightly. He ran the tip of his tongue over his lips, eyebrows raised, occasionally inhaling audibly through his mouth. No way .
Virat too stood wide-eyed, mouth agape like everyone else, his expression slowly sliding from frozen shock to realisation. He was attempting to suck the truth from the two men before him, a great distance away. The two whom he had great respect for, now locked at the lips, their mouths entangled in a dance of sensuality.
Uttar felt a cold, tingling numbness spread across his head and neck. It was then replaced by heat creeping up his face. He flushed so deeply that the colour spread from his cheeks right down to his collarbone. The muscles in his mouth were paralysed. His stomach opened up into an empty pit. His hands found his face, attempting to shield his embarrassed eyes from it all.
Finally, they broke apart. Both panting heavily. Their eyes were cloudy and distracted, and their lips slightly swollen and bright pink due to the exertion. Krishna took a moment to regain his breath before opening his eyes properly. Arjun was smiling madly, his cheeks as red as apples.
It took only a few moments for the reality of the situation to sink in.
Even then, Arjun’s first thought wasn’t to look at the others, but to focus on the man he’d just kissed. Krishna noticed the joy starting to leave his expression very slowly. Parth bit his lip and whispered breathlessly, “We…uh…”
No. No . He was having none of it. Did Parth think he could get away with this?
He pushed the prince off his lap and stood up straight. Everyone’s breaths hitched. For one mad second, nearly everyone thought Vasudev was going to slap Arjun hard.
Instead, Vasudev grabbed Dhananjaya by the waist. Tightly. He pulled him toward himself. Very close. This time he too looked left and right. Pandava army, Kuru army. Check. In full view. Check. An even better view than before. Check.
Arjun wound his arms around his shoulders once more. Next, he found himself staggering as Madhav’s weight pressed down upon him a bit. But now he was firmly and securely gathered in Madhav’s arms, and his whole world had turned nearly a hundred and eighty degrees as Krishna dipped him downwards, holding him in a position such that anyone would think he had prevented Arjun from falling.
He smiled down at Parth, a wicked grin. My turn .
And as the world gawked and gaped and gasped, he bent down and smoothly captured the prince’s lips with his own.
Every last bit of sense left Arjun’s body, and he responded with such enthusiasm that Krishna had to struggle a bit to hold him in place. Oh no, he wasn’t going anywhere.
Yudhishthir felt himself convulsing, eyes watering madly now, his voice stuck in his throat.
Drupad leaned so far ahead that he stumbled and actually fell off his chariot. Nobody noticed, nobody cared.
On the Kuru side, Bhishma briefly broke his reverie as a loud gasp left him.
The aghast Shakuni, who earlier, like Yudhishthir, had been unable to speak at all, suddenly found his voice again. It was barely any use though, for when he spoke, his words tumbled out as a series of incomprehensible sounds. They were exacerbated by the hoarseness and dryness of his throat, and very embarrassingly audible to everyone else. Again, nobody cared.
Dushasan was tilting his head so far to his right that his neck was dangerously close to getting a sprain. His reaction however, was unlike Duryodhan’s. He pursed his lips. As astonished as he was, he was also…strangely satisfied? Truly, the way Vasudev had turned the tables on them all so unabashedly was indeed satisfying. Even better was Arjun’s overly-bold behaviour now.
‘Shameless’ was the correct word — the Pandava prince was revealing perhaps the deepest desire that had been buried within him for a long, long time now.
Ashwatthama and Kripa were both grimacing hard. Ashwatthama’s face in particular was twisted into the ugliest expression he could muster, conveying a range of emotions — shock, disbelief, revulsion, even horror maybe.
Shalya looked like he was struggling to breathe, clutching his chest frantically and gesturing wildly.
The other Kauravas all had a range of reactions to the whole thing. Vikarn’s reaction was a mix of Bhishma’s, Bheem’s and Drupad’s — hands limp at his sides, mouth way too wide open and his body leaning forward.
The young Kaurava Maharathi Satyavrata was resting his chin on his clasped hands. His hands in turn, were resting upon his bow. He was drinking in the whole thing as if his mind were thirsty for it, his soul living vicariously through the passionate act.
Twenty-seven year-old Prince Nandaka had jumped up onto his chariot’s head, his heart pounding as Vasudev and Arjun’s embrace came into even better view. His older brother Chitrasena had temporarily lost self-awareness and was now murmuring “Oh my God, oh my God” to himself over and over again.
Jaya had stuffed his knuckles into his mouth to stop his mouth from spreading out into a horrified expression. Durmurshana was holding his face in his hands as if he couldn’t bear to look at the scene now that his mind had fully registered what was happening; though, he kept his fingers splayed wide enough just to be able to watch the scene discreetly.
Purumitra had clapped a hand to his mouth. He wanted to scream in shock and glee and terror too for some reason, to throw back his head and let loose a laugh of incredulity.
Krishna, his face and neck slick with sweat now, didn’t give Arjun any time to respond before extending his tongue deep into his mouth. He dominated Parth, his tongue rolling over the prince’s. Both tongues battled it out for a few seconds, before Krishna won inevitably. A heavy sigh of contentment escaped Arjun even through his occupied mouth.
Madhav’s heavy locks of hair slid down from his shoulders around both their faces, as if shielding this intimate moment from prying eyes.
Arjun, not content to be hidden any longer, ran his hands skilfully through the ebony curls, gathering them up behind Madhav’s head. Some locks escaped his clutches, falling back down again, tickling his face.
Govinda’s crown was now lopsided. It slipped off and fell down to the ground with a soft thud. The diadem, with its peacock feather, marked that area, that holy earth of Kurukshetra.
Arjun trembled. His entire world now consisted only of the smell of parijat, the tastes of different types of sweetness, the sounds of wetness and stickiness filling his ears and the feeling of his body being on fire. He felt an utterly beautiful sensation filling up his chest and stomach. It was so overwhelming that he wanted it to stop and continue at the same time. His heart was thudding so hard he feared it would burst out of him.
He pressed himself against Krishna. On that land, in clear view of all who were watching, he lived.
Madhav broke the kiss and took hold of his lower lip, sucking and biting down masterfully. Parth moaned involuntarily. Loudly. It reached the ears of all watching once again.
Drona felt his breath jerk; a resulting sound, much like a hiccup, left his mouth. Drupad hadn’t even bothered getting up ever since his fall minutes ago; he was watching from the ground.
Yudhishthir wept. For what, he didn’t know.
Nakul regurgitated a sound from his throat that was somewhere between a gasp and a stutter.
Sahadev willed his mind, with all his astrological powers that he could summon, to predict what was going to happen next. But his mind refused to budge from the present. He had to watch it no matter what.
Bheem raised his hands like Shalya, pointing with his palms, beholding the sight as if it were something the earth had never witnessed. He wasn’t happy, he wasn’t sad. None of them were.
They didn’t have time to process what they felt, for what was happening was still impossible to take in. Unbelievable.
Even in his astounded state, Duryodhan began to lose patience. “Pitama!”, he cried. “Pitama, your vow!”
Not that the vow was relevant here in the slightest, but Duryodhan knew how to push his Grandsire in the right spot.
But now, not even the mention of his irrevocable vow could break Bhishma out of the trance he had been put under. The spell cast by that beautiful dark Lord of the Universe and Yog powers — the power to merge and blend the Brahman together.
Indeed, to Arjun, it felt as if the power of the Brahman itself had entered his being. All bodily sensations were illusions of His Maya. He had just been told that by Keshav. And yet, these sensations seemed to have surpassed his body and penetrated into his soul. Into that fragment of the Almighty within him. And at the same time it was nothing compared to the power of the Almighty above him now, seamlessly blending Himself with him.
With one final messy, wet, sticky sound that conveyed the pure longing within them both that had finally been gratified, they broke apart again.
Krishna, eyes filled with desire, still held Arjun in his dipped position. Their hot breaths mingled. Hot indeed. Daring.
Despite being disoriented, Arjun didn’t dare look left or right. If he looked left at the Kurus, he didn’t know what he’d see. If he looked right, well… he didn’t expect his own men to keep straight faces.
Instead he chose to continue looking at Madhav, both revelling in their shared mischief, in the realisation of what they had just done and where they had done it.
The wind whipped over the faces of all watching dumbstruck. It whipped over Madhav and his Parth too, preceding the storm that was brewing. The volcano about to erupt.
***
At Hastinapur, in Dhritarashtra’s chambers, the blind king turned to where he knew his trusted advisor was.
“Sanjay”, he began, “What is happening out there? Tell me, you have been quiet for too long.”
Sanjay’s gaze too was transfixed as his divine sight showed him all that was happening. From each detailed expression to the subtle parting of a pair of lips. But his countenance was as calm as ever. He spoke to the king in his usual humble, polite tone.
“The Mahayudh has taken an unprecedented turn, my Lord. That has happened which has surpassed everyone’s expectations. That which has never before occurred in any battle in history. That which has surpassed even my own ability to believe, or to distinguish between reality and illusion.”
“What do you mean?”, Dhritarashtra said. “Has the war ended already?”
“Oh no, my Lord. In fact, it has only just begun.”