It was the 18th night of the Kurukshetra war, Dhrishtaduymna, the fire born, was in his chambers, gazing at the moon from the tiny window in the tent on the battleground. Something wasn’t letting him sleep. Instead, he was drawn to the vast black ocean above, unknown of the horrors of the night.
“I have lived up to my prophecy. I have accomplished the task of my birth. I have killed Dronacharya and satisfied my father’s fire of revenge. Will death consume me now? Until I hadn’t killed guru dronacharya, I knew the shadows of death won’t lure upon me but now, I can’t be sure. Well isn’t death the ultimate truth of life? Someday or the other I would have to die, only I wasn’t afraid of it until the moment I beheaded the greatest warrior and teacher of the time- Guru Drona. I must agree he was the greatest, though he knew of the prophecy, he himself taught me weapons and the science of warfare. I bow at him. Anyways who knows what tomorrow holds for us? No one can say. The past was unexpected, who would expect a war of such large scale to occur and consume the greatest warriors and kingdoms”
” Kurukshetra…. the greatest war of history is coming to an end.” he twists to the other side and flashed at the door, he thought he heard footsteps around, tiptoeing in the corridor. He dismissed the thoughts and returned back to his thoughts of serenity. He glanced at the sword at his foot, the sword that bore the bloodstains of the greatest warriors. He was born with the sword, his father says as he rose from the fire, he held the sword tight in one hand and Draupadi’s hand in the other. “Ohh Draupadi” his eyes fill with tears of grief as his thoughts are diverted to her sister. “now I understand the prophecy. They said I would be a great warrior and I would accomplish the task of killing Drona but Draupadi, she wasn’t expected. Father asked for a son from the fire god to revenge his friend. This daughter of yours would change history, said the prophecy. Only if she knew how much would she suffer. The moment I was informed about Draupadi’s vastra Haran, I wanted to kill each warrior present in the halls of Hastinapur who did not protect my sister. Her husbands did not protect her, her own brothers-in-law molested her in front of her own family. Bhishma Pitahmah, Vidur, Dronacharya, and all the greatest warriors of the time suffered the sight of the great evil but did not protect her. She did change the course of history- the war of Kurukshetra. She is a warrior, she survived the greatest battles. The battle was not fought on the battleground but the one fought within. I am proud of you Draupadi. I have never confessed my feelings to you, tomorrow I promise to praise you. I would. It takes a lot of strength to face the challenges of life as you did, stronger than me. Being the unexpected one, marrying 5 brothers, being refused by her family and denied the kingdom of Hastinapur, years of exile, absorbing the blames to be the cause of the greatest war and the death of millions, the fire born, you are stronger than any of the warriors that fought the battle” he wiped his tears and gently closed his eyes muttering a small prayer of strength and gratitude for her sister.
“All have died except Ashwatthama, Kripacharya, and Kritvarma from the Kauravas. The Pandavas have acquired their kingdom at the cost of war. At the cost of killing their own brothers and family. Was the war worth it? Acquiring the kingdom but loosing the most precious thing in the world- their family. Well, but then it wasn’t just about a kingdom, the war was about dharma. The kauravas were indeed adharmi, they had to be killed and the world had to get rid of them.” Dhri gradually falls asleep as the echoes of his mind dissolve.
As an hour collapsed, Dhri felt uneasy. His sleep was disturbed by the moment in the corridor. He thought he heard quite screams of pain. He turned towards the moon and stared at it until he was again immersed in sleep. His senses were detecting moments behind him but he resisted all of it. Suddenly he saw a large shadow on the white curtains, the shadow enlarging at each step. The shadow of death. Dhri ferociously turned and identified it was Ashwathamma, the son of Drona with a sword in his hand stained with blood. Dhri rushed to grab his own sword, but Ashwathamma was faster.
” Wasn’t it you who killed my father?” stated Ashwathamma coldly. His forehead was gleaming with the gem (Mani).
“So are you here to revenge the death of your father?”
“you killed him with deceit you coward. I am here to avenge the death of my father, of my friend, Duryodhan and of all other warriors”
” I am the fire born, I will consume you as well. Ashwathamma, give me my sword and let me fight you to death. I would be pleased to kill the warrior who witnessed the sight of my Sister’s vastra haran and did nothing to protect her. Adharmi, look at yourself, you choose the wrong path.”
” I have no time Dhrishtaduymna, I have already killed the Pandavas, while they were asleep. I pity you would witness a harsh horrific death, my friend.” Ashwathamma moved closer to Dhri, he could sense grief and horror within Dhri as the thought about the Pandava’s death struct him. He pushed Ashwathamma with anger and regained his consciousness and strength.
“Give me my sword Ashwathamma, let me fight you cause the fire to kill you is burning ferociously within me.” Ignoring all the pleas of Dhri, Ashwathamma moved towards him and raised the sword to his neck.
“You killed my father with deceit when he had no weapons in his hand. You falsely alarmed him of my death and killed him when he was consumed with sorrow and grief. He had dropped all his weapons, you did not remember not to kill a warrior unarmed. Why should I give you the honor to die fighting? rather protecting?” Aswathamma pressed the sword at Dhri’s body, the time had come to avenge his father’s death and fulfill the promise he made to his dying friend.
” Even if it is time for me to die let me die with honor, take your revenge but let me die with a sword in my hand.”
Ashwathamma closed his eyes, whispered ” Om Namah Shivaay” and pierced the sword in the neck of the warrior.
The scream of the warrior echoed in the battleground as the body of the fire born lay on his bed, bleeding the blood of grief and horror. Only if he could die the death of a warrior. Only if he could say his last goodbye to his sister. Only if he could smile and convey his love to his wife, his children, and his family. But he had fulfilled his prophecy, and now that his reason of coming into the world had been served, the soul of the warrior departed peacefully into the aboard of the heaven.
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