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Chapter Text

Panchaali was walking down the hall, in the palace of her father-king. He had announced that she was to be married soon (without even consulting her). But her father had given her a freedom that was rare for women of the land - Panchaali was to choose her own husband from a throng of suitors! This made the prospect of marriage an exciting one, and our heroine had a spring in her step as she walked, along with her brother and her friend, to the hall where a painter had arrived with portraits and stories of eligible suitors all over the land.

Yawn. As the portraits were revealed one by one, Draupadi found her attention waning away. They were all of men who looked like they could be her father. All the stories were the same as well, each king or prince being brave, strong, and rich. Panchaali had half a mind to let the painter go early, and retire to her chambers.

"Krishnaa, wait for Arjun's portrait. He is the most skilled archer on this earth, and if I dare say, easy on the eyes as well. You will want to see him," her good friend Krishna spoke. Krishna had always adored her, and had called her 'Krishnaa', a female variation of his own name, to signify their bond.

The painter then brought out the portrait of the Pandavas (sons of King Pandu) on Krishna's instruction, and oh boy... Draupadi was glad to have listened. All five of them were handsome and manly, there was no denying that. Arjun seemed to be the one with a bow held in his hand, looking regal. The princess was drawn to his alert eyes - they held a mischief in them - along with an emotional depth. She asked for his story. Hesitatingly, the painter began:

The third son of King Pandu, Arjun was born as the blessing of the sky-god. He lived with his brothers in a forest, as their father had taken up exile to atone for his past sins. After King Pandu's death though, all the children came to the kingdom of Hastinapur, where they received extensive education alongside their cousins, the Kauravas (sons of the Kuru family). Arjun quickly surpassed everyone else in archery skills - he is also said to have obtained divine weapons from his guru. In a tournament held at Hastinapur, Arjun was even crowned as the most skilled warrior among all the one-hundred-and-five princes! Prince Arjun is regarded all over India as the strongest opponent, whom even the Gods would think twice before crossing!

But Princess...

Prince Arjun is dead.

Draupadi felt her eyes widen, felt her breath catch in her throat, and looked to Krishna for confirmation. The painter continued.

"Recently, Arjun and his brothers, collectively known as the Pandavas, went to a lavish palace for a vacation, gifted to them by their cousin, Duryodhan. But the evil Duryodhan had different plans, Princess! Oh God... the palace was made up entirely of inflammable materials, and he burnt them all alive, with their goddess-like pure mother!"

The painter was in visible distress at this point, and could go no further. The five princes must have been adored by the common people.

But what was Draupadi to do now? The only man she liked amongst her suitors was dead...? Heaving a stricken sigh, she gestured to the painter to show her the remaining suitors. There may be a chance that she'd like at least one of them.

The next portrait that the painter brought out stopped Panchaali in her train of thought. The painting stopped everything, her breathing, her blinking, her heartbeat. It was as if the painting stopped the flow of time itself.

"Sakhi (friend), sakhi, are you listening to me?" Krishna's voice brought her back to her senses. Even her brother was looking at her with a concerned gaze.

"Draupadi, are you feeling alright? Do you need me to help you sit down?"

Draupadi turned her face away as she blushed. How could she admit the instant attraction flaring up inside her at the portrait of this man, like a roaring fire leaping up in its urge to engulf the whole sky?

She shyly glanced at the painting again. The portrait contained three men, posing in a throne room. But the one who caught Panchaali's eye was the most inconspicuous: his posture relaxed and friendly, his clothing simpler than the other two, and his eyes... his eyes were like a calm ocean that quenched the evergreen fire inside the Yagyaseni. She had an urge to see that man smile; something told her that he looked very handsome when he smiled. But those eyes also told Draupadi that the man did not smile often. They seemed to gain their calm from an unknown sadness, sadness that Panchaali wanted to know about.

"Tell us about the men in the painting." Krishna spoke to the painter. The artist complied and Draupadi got to know that the prince sitting in the centre was the very same evil Duryodhan who had plotted to murder the five Pandavas. And the man sitting beside him was his younger brother Dushhasan. They both looked like princes, with elaborate jewellery and arrogant expressions. The painter told them that Prince Duryodhan was the crown prince of the Hastinapur kingdom, which was extremely powerful, with unbeatable warriors on its side. Panchaali's brother hummed his approval for such a strong kingdom. But Panchaali was looking somewhere else.

"Who is that...? That man, standing beside Prince Duryodhan?"

Krishna stiffened.

"That is someone who is far below you, my sakhi. He does not belong to any royal family. Do not pay him any mind."

Draupadi's curiosity was not sated. She felt like she had a right to at least know about the person in the picture, so that her mind could be put to rest.

"Tell me about him nevertheless," the princess ordered the painter. The painter, surprisingly, did not have much to say about the mysterious man.

"Vaasudev Krishna is right in what he says, Princess. He is Karna, the king of Anga, but he does not have any royal lineage... There are even rumours that he is the son of a charioteer. His station is far below yours, Princess." The painter answered, head bowed.

But the princess had noticed something else.

"This man, Angaraj (king of Anga) Karna, he carries a massive bow with poise. Is he also an archer, Govind?" She asked Krishna.

"Yes... he is an archer, sakhi, and he is probably the only man in this whole crowd, other than Arjun, who can successfully complete the task your father has set in order to win your hand in marriage."

Chapter Text

Draupadi was mulling over the day’s events in her chambers. She had ordered all her maids out so that she could give herself some privacy to let her thoughts wander. She went over all that she had learnt today: Krishna had spoken well of Arjun, and Arjun was also a prince of the Hastinapur kingdom… if he was alive. (Draupadi wondered how on earth Arjun, along with his brothers and mother, would have survived being trapped in a burning palace… but Krishna had never led her wrong before.)

Her own brother had also been in favour of marrying into Hastinapur – it was a strong kingdom, and it’d ensure Panchaali’s continued protection and prosperity. What if she married Crown Prince Duryodhan…? He wasn’t particularly good-looking, nor was he a moral man by any means, but he had the power of Hastinapur with him… and his friend, Angaraj Karna. By marrying Duryodhan, Panchaali would have everything she desired.

But as she thought about seeing those deep, calm eyes every day, and not being able to be closer to that man, she fell into a deep melancholy. She decided that she could not bear being near the man who had attracted her so, while not being able to give herself to him, so marrying Crown Prince Duryodhan was of no use to her.

What if… she just married the king of Anga? Govind had said that Karna possesses the prowess to win the competition and win her hand in marriage, surely he must be one of the greatest warriors in the whole land? What would Panchaali have to fear as the wife of this great archer? She unconsciously blushed as she imagined her life as the queen of Anga – waking up everyday in those strong arms, sharing his burdens, his joys, and his home.

She imagined him laughing and smiling with her, while eating together, and riding together, and meeting their beloved subjects together. She would make herself pretty everyday for him to feast his eyes and his desires upon her; she would give herself, mind, body, and soul, to that man who would love her just the same.

“Princess, what are you doing in your room all alone?” A familiar voice interrupted Panchaali’s daydreams of a happy married life with the handsomest man she had ever seen.

The princess was mortified – what had she been thinking? Had she let her physical desires take over her good sense completely, to think of such things about a man who was not even her husband?

The princess gathered herself and said sharply, hoping to hide the tremor in her voice,

“Nothing, just taking a moment to engage in meditation to centre myself. I’m about to be married, Dhai Ma, I know that I should start behaving with the poise of a married woman.”

Draupadi heard a snort of laughter from Dhai Ma’s direction.

“These young girls pretending to be all grown up, ha! Come on out, my bride-to-be, we need to oil your hair…”

Throughout the rest of the day, and for the next few weeks, Draupadi’s life was a whirlwind. Older women kept giving her advice on being a dutiful wife (and about pleasing one’s husband, with a lot of giggling). Younger girls would congratulate her and enviously wish they’d be next. Her father’s palace underwent a dramatic transformation: from a military fortress it became something like an abode of the Gods, all in celebration of Panchaali. On her part, Draupadi did her best to keep her newfound desires a secret, though each day she’d silently pray that the handsome archer who’d caught her attention would win the competition.

At night her thoughts would unwittingly veer towards the man who had captured her heart. She did not know what to do to sate herself. Her heart would ache along with her body, her entire being longing for a sliver of affection from him. During those hours, Arjun would be nowhere in her mind, neither would Krishna’s words, nor Hastinapur’s strength. The princess would quiver as she thought about the moment when she would throw the garland over Karna’s neck, and finally, at long last, he would caress her face and hold her hands, his mere touch sending her into visions of ecstasy.

She’d imagine all of it and lie trembling and aching, pleading for him in her mind to end her agony. And then she’d fall asleep, thinking that no matter who became her husband, this man shall forever remain the one who made her a woman.

Panchaali opened her eyes. She could already hear the music and the commotion in and around the palace. She could see the people flocking closer to witness the historic ceremony, that was their princess’ wedding. Today was the day.

She went through all the motions of dressing up, and with help from her maids, finally looked like a royal bride. Draupadi took a look at herself in the mirror, and couldn’t help but marvel at how much she had grown. She looked at all of her maids and her eyes grew misty at all the memories she had of this palace, and at the thought of leaving her father’s protection and going to some unknown place.

“My sister… you make the most beautiful bride.” Draupadi’s brother, Dhrishtadyumna had come to escort her. Draupadi noticed that his voice held back a lot of emotions. She smiled at him, her own eyes growing wet again.

“Brother, before going into the hall and facing everything… can we spend one last moment together? Just as brother and sister?”

Dhrishtadyumna (she affectionately called him Dhri) agreed and asked what she had in mind. The princess smiled mischievously.

“You know Draupadi, when you get married, your husband won’t like all these shenanigans,” Dhri told her as they both rushed down a solitary corridor, wherefrom Panchaali wanted to have a glimpse of the gathered royals before the ceremony commenced.

Shushing him, Draupadi hurried along until she reached the spot she knew quite well, having hid there frequently so that she could see everyone without anyone seeing her. Her eyes now raked along the grandly decorated hall, flitting from royal to royal. She suddenly grew nervous. What if she wasn’t good enough for any of them? What if none of them were able to win the competition? What if they thought she was ugly? What if she embarrassed herself in front of all those kings and brought shame to her family?

Draupadi was watching the scene with increasing nervousness when a new royal was announced – Crown Prince Duryodhan. She saw him saunter into the hall with boundless arrogance – and she was glad that she had decided against marrying him. But right behind Prince Duryodhan… she saw a familiar bow that had haunted her dreams since weeks. Her breath hitched. She thought she saw stars in the flesh, in the form of the man in front of her. Walking into her father’s hall with steady, assured steps, his weapon held with confidence and his head held high. Still wearing simple clothing that made him look divine nonetheless, and made everyone else look gaudy in comparison. Her own desire rebelling against her, as if to attract him to satisfy her own traitorous flesh. She could not deny what her eyes saw, his body looked like he could make hers sing in pleasure, and the princess had to fight hard to push back that imagery.

She sucked in a sharp breath as her roaming gaze landed on his face. His eyes, those calm oceans, were curious and appreciative as he admired the palace. He had no hint of malice on his face, which was handsome and becoming in its entirety. On seeing him, Draupadi felt a warmth radiating off of him, something that put her mind to rest and told her that everything was going to turn out fine. Her nervousness had dissipated. She was now eager to go out there and meet Angaraj Karna (and the rest of the royals) for herself.

“Draupadi, it’s been too long, we’ll be late!” She heard her brother’s voice. Oops!

With one last look at the man she hoped would be her husband before long, Panchaali set out with her brother towards the ceremony hall. She probably imagined that very man staring right at her, right before Dhri pulled her away.

Chapter Text

The hall echoed with the sound of grand trumpets, commanding everyone’s attention. King Drupad, perhaps for the first time, was overcome by emotion. So was the prince, Dhrishtadyumna, clutching his sister’s hand tightly, wanting nothing more than to protect her from the entire world.

And Draupadi? Her share of tears was being all used up by her well-wishers, leaving her eyes dry. The princess was not sad – it was a moment of great excitement for her. Soon she would walk among all the kings and princes gathered, and Panchaali would be the centre of all action. Men would compete for her, and she would have the right to decide the winner!

Head held high, the princess of Panchal walked. Her brother left behind, hastily wiping his tears, Panchaali couldn’t pay him any mind. Her father reaching out to embrace her, Panchaali walked on, among the crowds of men who thought they were admiring her, when in reality, they were the ones under her sharp scrutiny.

Perhaps it was at this moment that the girl stepped into the throes of a life that would toss her around, with no support from her father or brother. At this moment, she took the reins of her life into her own soft hands, and later, her father and brother would weep at failing to protect their little girl.

As the princess-bride walked on with assured steps, the gathered royals muttered in approval.

“She has inherited the yagna’s grace.”

“Very expressive eyes – good quality to have in a bride.”

“I dare not say out loud what thoughts the sight of her induces!”

Draupadi silently documented every man, every comment, assessing them with a cool indifference. As if she won’t be pledging herself to one among these very men. On their part, the gathered royals were impressed by the princess’ confidence and assurance, and her act of turning her back and walking away left an ache in every man’s chest.

On her surveyal walk, Draupadi suddenly found herself stopping short; facing away and hastily walking back to her parents. Her composure lost, her eyes wide, her breath ragged. Only one person could have caused her to break like this. But… she wasn’t completely opposed to the idea. A thrill ran down her spine.

Back at the altar, standing alongside her family was her friend, Krishna. He greeted her warmly, and Draupadi was pleasantly surprised to see him. His presence made her feel calmer.

“You don’t look too pleased to see the crowd, sakhi.” Krishna asked with a smile.

“None of them look extraordinary, Krishna, except perhaps Angaraj Karna,” Draupadi answered with a smile of her own, divulging just a little of her favour towards the archer. “You said he can clear my father’s test.”

Krishna did not look content with that.

“Draupadi, Angaraj is not the right man for you. Pay him no mind.”

The princess felt stunned. In a hushed outburst, she said,

“Then who is the right man for me, Govind? Arjun is dead. There are no other archers who can pass the test. Will I be shamed here in this hall when I have to leave unmarried?”

Dhri, who was standing nearby, attempted to soothe his sister,
“Draupadi, I’m sure there are many skilled archers in this crowd. I mean, look at it! Suitors from all over India are here to compete – Obviously, there are many warriors, better than the son of a charioteer.”

Draupadi felt miffed at her brother’s condescending tone, but kept it to herself. It wouldn’t be right to give too much of herself away. They all would know what is in her heart when Angaraj Karna won anyway…

With the blessings of holy priests and her royal father, the ceremony began. A strange contraption was revealed. A rotating fish high up in the sky, and a bowl of water below… And thus began the competition.

Kings came and kings failed. Princes came and princes failed. Draupadi grew tired of waiting while decked in all her heavy finery. Prince Duryodhan came and, with all his arrogance, failed. And then – Draupadi rose. Her eyes were wide and her lips parted. He had stood up at last. He had gripped his handsome bow and was walking boldly towards the centre stage-

“Krishnaa.” Draupadi turned to the voice of her dear friend, looking solemn. He looked at her bright eyes.

“You must not marry Karna, Panchaali. That is not what you’re destined for.”

What was this tinkling sound...? Did she hear the sound of her heart cracking?

“How can you-”

“Do you trust me, sakhi? When have I ever led you wrong? The one you are destined to marry is in this crowd right now. To fulfil your potential, you must stop Angaraj Karna from competing, because he has the skills to win your hand!”

Draupadi felt trapped in a panic. How could she stop the man she desired and marry another? So what if her destiny remained unfulfilled, at least she would be happy, she would be living her drea-

“STOP!”

Every face in the crowd turned to the princess, whose heart was hammering in her chest. One particular face stood out to her, its glorious features were lined with confusion. Panchaali’s heart twisted painfully as she said the next few words with a cold demeanour.

“You cannot be allowed to compete for my hand, Angaraj. The princess of Panchal cannot possibly be wed to a charioteer’s son.”

An immediate uproar of jeers and laughter filled the hall. Draupadi’s face flushed, just as Karna’s face did, as she continued to look at him defiantly. The archer, in turn, looked at the haughty princess with something like disgust before walking away from the pulpit with measured steps. Prince Duryodhan and his brother Dushhasan stood up in anger, hurling insults about the haughtiness of women, threatening war on Panchal. Angaraj, on his part, entreated the brothers to become calm and regain their seats. But when he gazed at the princess, the fire rising in his eyes amounted to many times more than the princes’ outburst.

Something inside the princess beseeched to be united with the fire in those deep eyes; perhaps it was the same fire that the Agnisuta had emerged from. She longed to quench those blazing eyes, belonging to the man she had unjustly shamed in open court not long ago.

All of a sudden, Draupadi saw Dhri stand up from his throne, his eyes following something, or someone, moving across the crowd. Krishna rose, and so did King Drupad, all following the same lone man who was making his way steadily to the dais.

Draupadi’s breath hitched. She instinctively looked to Krishna. Her dear friend nodded, a small smile forming on his lips.

She studied the man… and was not satisfied. He appeared to be a penniless brahmin, attempting to win the princess’ hand to earn riches from her father. She felt her heart drop as he readied his bow.

Unable to resist the urge, she glanced at the king of Anga once more, and she was sure that her countenance was not able to hide her true feelings of guilt and regret.

Chapter Text

What takes place next is a tale as old as time. The penniless brahmin goes on to shock everyone in court by piercing the mark no warrior had been able to pierce (or had been allowed to pierce, Draupadi bitterly thought). The princess throws the garland over the brahmin’s neck and follows the man towards his home, alone, dejected.

Right before they left, through all the commotion, the bride found herself near the king of Anga… the very same Angaraj she had disrespected. Panchaali slightly bowed her head in his direction, humility spreading across her cheeks. How prideful she was, how arrogant she was earlier! She had no right to humiliate a king of the land in this way.

Angaraj saw the newlywed princess lower her head, and confusion gripped his heart. Was this the same person who had insulted him in open court? Perhaps she was bowing to someone else standing near him; it was easy to be mistaken in such chaos. Yes, despite being a king of Anga and the greatest archer in all of the lands, these haughty kshatriyas could never be expected to respect me, thought Karna, and threw her a look mixed with condescension and mockery. He was startled out of his reverie when the princess brought her head back up, and he saw her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

These were not tears of joy. The princess was not happily married. And she was looking right at him. What was she expecting, that the charioteer’s son would rescue her from the poor brahmin?

… She was not wrong, Karna realised. He wanted to join the fray and rescue the wretched princess of Panchal from a life of hardship with her new husband (he was sure he could defeat anyone in archery) … But the rules of dharma stopped him. The brahmin had won her hand through fair means, and there was no argument against that. But looking at the arrogant princess, her unhappy eyes, longing for something (What?), Karna felt himself stirred to help the maiden. Her eyes… they seemed to be communicating something… but what would the princess of Panchal have to say to a low-born like himself?

As the brahmin led his bride away from the palace, Panchaali let fall a few hapless tears. How could she let him know, how she let anyone know now, that she wanted the man with fire in his eyes to whisk her away on a horse-driven carriage, defeating each man who tried to part them? But no, she was promised to another now… And so she must walk, barefoot, like her new husband.

He led the way ahead, she followed behind, agonisingly slow with her bridal attire. Silently, they walked, and through their journey, Panchaali realised why Krishna had let this brahmin win. Underneath his disguise of hair and beard, he was Arjun, the warrior prince of Hastinapur, believed to be dead.

Draupadi did not understand why or how, but she admitted that this man is to be her husband now, and she will live as the daughter-in-law of the Kuru family. Acceptance gave her heart some solace, and she could see that Arjun was kind to her. Life may take unexpected twists and turns, but she could still make the best of it.

With this thought in her heart, she approached a hut in the forest, joyfully announced by Arjun’s four brothers (the Pandavas, she remembered). Without looking back, the Pandavas’ mother commanded them to share amongst themselves whatever they had won today. Draupadi let out a little laugh, wait till Mother turns around and realises her mistake!

But nobody else laughed. The Pandavas’ mother turned round, startled at Draupadi’s giggle, and gasped in shock. The sons all stood silent around the clearing. Only Draupadi couldn’t understand. It was an honest mistake, right? Why was everybody taking this sentence so seriously? Was everybody so serious in Hastinapur?

Then one of the brothers spoke,

“Mother, what have you said?”

Panchaali grew indignant. She turned to her groom and exclaimed,

“Husband, Mother said something unknowingly, mistakenly. After all, I’m not a thing to be shared, I’m your wife!”

Arjun swallowed; his mouth was dry. He was proud of his achievement, having won himself a wife, that too the daughter of the prestigious King Drupad. Now, how will he tell her?

The brother who spoke previously now addressed Panchaali,

“You speak correctly, Princess of Panchal. A woman cannot be shared among five men; it is against dharma. Therefore, the rest of us brothers will undertake lifelong penance so that Mother’s words don’t go empty.”

Draupadi stared at him, shell-shocked. She stared at all five brothers; nobody, including her own husband, who had won her, would meet her eyes. She then approached Kunti, the mother of the five Pandavas,

“Mother, your sons have taken your words to heart. Tell them that I am not to be shared, that it was a mistakenly spoken order.”

But Mother remained meek. She softly said,

“Words once spoken cannot be taken back, Princess.”

“Am I to wed five brothers then?!” Draupadi could no longer hold back her emotions. “Or be held liable for four of the Pandavas spending their lives as hermits?”

There was silence in the clearing. And a decision was taken.

Panchaali was back in her father’s palace, awaiting the wedding preparations. This time, the sons of Pandu were there too, along with their mother, Kunti. Draupadi was to get married to each of the five brothers, so that their lives and their destinies wouldn’t be wasted. A wedding ceremony was to take place, but instead of joy, the atmosphere was filled with trepidation, guilt, and regrets - a lot of regrets.

The princess found herself on a solitary walk in the fragranced garden, regretting the harsh words which had dashed all her hopes of happiness. Angaraj Karna did not have any brothers… she would not be in this predicament if she had not stopped him… If she had not disgraced him during her swayamvar. She would now become the daughter-in-law of the Kuru family, but at what cost? With five husbands, who would respect her integrity as a woman?

Draupadi was no longer Panchaali, the daughter of Panchal. She was a grown and a very, very miserable woman. She broke down crying in the gardens, filled with regret and pain.

Unbeknownst to her, one of the wedding guests was right there, enjoying the solitude of the gardens before a certain weeping lass came along. Karna watched curiously as the princess fell to her knees, her tears drenching the green grass below. She wept unabashedly, thinking that she was alone. The raw cry of desolation pierced the hidden king. On one hand, Karna thought that this was the princess’ karma coming back to her, after she humiliated him in open court. On the other hand, he felt his weakness and his anger melt away, replaced by an unplaceable desire to help Draupadi. As if by some divine force, some of her burden was lifted and placed onto his willing shoulders.