The Princesses of Kashi

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Once upon a time, in the kingdom of Kashi, lived three princesses. Adorned with beauty and blessed by the goddess of knowledge, the princesses were desired by all the kings for their sons. Amba, the eldest sister was a ferocious warrior, a rebel, a woman who knew what she deserved and to fight for it. The younger two, Ambika and Ambalika, were known in the ancient Bharatvarsh as the flawless and virtuous women, looked up to by all the young girls.
When the princesses came of age, the king of Kashi, Kashya hosted the grandest Swayamvar for his daughters.

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THE BIRTH OF A CURSED HERO

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A legendary rishi and his boon. A Yadav princess and her impetuous curiosity to invoke the celestials. A mistake that ignited the greatest war of all times. The story of an abandoned son who became one of the greatest warriors of history.

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THE MOMENT OF SEPARATION

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“Radhey, love is a strong emotion. It binds souls together, beyond life. It transcends all distances that separate us, it is capable of expressing itself without words and it consumes us, together or apart. The power of love is beyond anything else that exists in this world. It will always keep us together, tied with memories. Though we won’t meet for years, we would always be together. I promise.” said Krishna.

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KAIKEYI- A PROMISE THAT CHANGED HISTORY

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“Dashrath, you remember the time I saved your life?” whispered Kaikeyi, lowering her eyes to hide the tears from flowing.
“I remember every moment I spent with you. A warrior princess, I live because of you,” replied Dashrath, moving closer to Kaikeyi and feeling her breath.
“You promised me two boons,” she said, stepping back, her eyes lowered. He nodded.
“I wish that our son, Bharat be crowned as the king,” she said confidently, gaining back her warrior spirit. Dashrath stepped back, his mind froze.

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DRAUPADI’S SWAYAMVAR

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His muscular body hid his tender heart, calling out to Panchali with love and respect. “I cannot do this to him.” she thought to herself. Raising from her throne, her heart called out to her, whispering words that said ‘this man would protect you. He would love and respect you. Look into his eyes. You know it.’
“But I must” she thought to herself.
“I will not marry a sutputra (son of a chariot driver)” she announced loud and clear in the assembly. Her eyes were fixed on Karna who bent low and walked away. She knew that she had hurt him. She wanted to tell him how much she respected him. That deep within she wanted to be with him. To read his eyes and to spend her life with him but was tied in the chains of society. “I am sorry Karna” she whispered.

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DURYODHAN- VICTIM OR VILLAIN?

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Maybe I was just another victim. A soul chosen to establish dharma by engraving its name as the villain. A part of me still believes I fought for what belonged to me, I fought for Dharma. But my heart is pounding. My soul isn’t silent.
I lost everything and everyone. I lost all of it only to be remembered as a villain. I fought the war all my life only to die alone. I dared to preserve the throne only to lose it to the Pandavas.
Today I know, the war was never about the throne of Hastinapur. It wasn’t about brothers fighting and it wasn’t about fighting for what belonged or what was promised. The war was to establish Dharma. To carve out a story that would inspire ages.

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VIDURA-A LIFE DEVOTED TO DHARMA

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The evening sun was casting its magical rays on the waves of the holy river. Vidura bent low and touched the warm brown sand. He turned around and ordered the 2 men waiting upon him with their hands resting on their swords to leave him alone for a while. He felt serene, but the pain was erupting from his heart.
Yesterday was haunting him. He took a deep breath, stretched his legs, and dissolved his mind into the past.
“The fate of the Kauravas is doomed. Hastinapur is submerging into its destruction as the mind of Duryodhan is casting a spell upon our land. The war is inevitable. Today or tomorrow this hatred among brothers would consume them and the world.”

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DURYODHAN- THE DEATH OF KARNA

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“You left me too early Karna. Too early” sobbed Duryodhan beside the muscular body of Karna, pierced with an arrow, lying dead on the battlefield of Kurukshetra.
“Meet me on the other side. I am counting my days until I meet you again”

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VIKARNA-THE KAURAVA WHO DARED TO OPPOSE

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No one has the right to gamble a woman. Husband, father, or even gods cannot put a woman on the bet! Do I have to remind the Sabha of the shastras”
“Vikarna! You do not oppose me! Dare you speak another word brother and fate will have you killed!” replied a frustrated Duryodhan. He was annoyed as I, his younger brother dared to oppose him in the Sabha. “Panchali! Your husband gambled you away! And now that you are mine…”

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DHRITARASHTRA- ETERNAL DARKNESS

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” Sufferings. Pain. Loss. Rejection. Yearning for acceptance from my own people. That’s all I have ever felt all my life. A kingdom is ruled with righteousness and justice. A ruler must be devoted to his people and to the society. He must fill in the cracks of the imperfect society. Challenge the inherited bizarre norms of the society and bring in changes to sustain the world that is evolving. A leader must pave the way for new inventions and ideas to emerge. Does it matter if the king is blind?

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GANDHARI- LAMENT OF THE BLIND QUEEN

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“I have always accepted your love. So I, Vasudev Krishna, would not deny your curse. ” echoed the voice of Krishna in her mind.
It was a gloomy evening, and the blindfolded Queen was in her chambers, cursing herself for the happenings of the past.  Her heart cried that evening, blind in the love of her 100 sons that died in the greatest war of history and she knew that someway she ignited the war.
“I shouldn’t have said that. I hate myself and every cell of my body to curse Vasudev” sobbed Gandhari.

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DHRISHTADUMNYA- THE SHADOW OF DEATH

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” 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.

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