Saturday, November 28, 2015

2258 : Yudhistra's wastrel

The King of Dharma was walking along with Panchali on the foothill of a cave around the forest. In a moment of nonchalance, he walked a little ahead. Trailing behind, she tripped on a odd shaped stone, and in reflex she tried to hold on a tree - her fingers got entangled in thin thorns, thinner than strands of her own hair.

In anguish and in pain, she pulled the strands off her fingers. Dharmaraja jumped in and tried to help too.

A few minutes passed and she had no thorn that was visible, but clearly tiny thin strands had been left embedded into her dermis.

She stabilized and they resumed the walk.

That night as they sat down for their morsels, she told Dharmaraja that the fingers which had been hurt were now really painfully sore.

He in his human wisdom said, "The body will eject the thorns out, right now it is fighting what it thinks is a foreign intrusion. Hence the pain."

She continued to focus on her food and eat morsels, her head still, her eyes downward focussing on the banana leaf.

A few seconds passed, before she looked up, and with an icy stare said "Do you ever realise that my pain and hurt are real. No amount of philosophizing and rationalizing will ever make my itch go away. My hurt is gnawing at me. You, who could squander all and sundry on whim, will never know what it is to suck up and absorb wounds within this real world."

As she spoke, her breasts heaved, the anger rising in waves. Her eyes now fiery red, she continued, "You lost what you did not even deserve to own. You will never know what a real sore is. You cannot pontificate and hope my pain goes away."

Her words by now were now sharper than a samurai sword, her bite was more bulimic than that of a frothing lion.

The King looked down at the spread on his banana leaf. He said in a sombre voice "What do you want me to do, my Goddess. This forest was supposed to be my repentance. Its not yours. Am sure if you went back with the brothers, the palace would happily accommodate you back."

She flared, "You never listen, do you? This was not supposed to be about you. This was about my pain, my fingers, my thorns and my unhappiness."

He looked down and opened his left hand. His fingers too had the thorns and were swollen and numb. As she stared at it aghast, and petrified, he slowly closed his fist again, with a slight grimace, he continued to eat his food in silence.

Many minutes later, as he was finishing up his last morsel, he said "My dear Goddess, dont let the anger within you die. Its these flames that shall push me to fight the death. Its these sparks that shall help me sear my wounds. Its this fire that shall scald my flesh on the final journey to hell."

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