Dreams and Decisions of Draupadi

Check the theme here: Pandava Mahaprasthana

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Sunsets were her favorite time of the day, followed by the moonrise. Draupadi sat by the riverside with the dog stretching beside her. She watched her husbands complete their evening prayers, standing in the river with the waves dancing around their chests. Her pooja time was a few minutes away. She lit a diya for Parvati Devi to dispel the darkness and prayed for a brighter future for her grandsons and all of Bharatavarsha. What else did she have to ask for after losing almost everything?

Draupadi blinked away the tears and hoped her dead children, the five sons everyone called Upapandavas and dear Abhimanyu, found peace and were happy in heaven. It might have hurt her less if her sons had died on the battlefield instead of being murdered in death by a maniac like Ashwatthama. Imagine the son of a Brahmin, who lived like a Kshatriya, committing a crime that insulted both varnas!

Over thirty-seven years later, she could still see the day as if it had happened less than twenty-four hours ago.

The battlefield was burning with countless funeral pyres of the dead. Yudhistira had ordered that the last rites be performed for everyone with the best sandalwood in the kingdom. Whatever little wealth remained in the treasury went into this, but the warriors deserved it. After all, they had given their lives without hesitation.

For an instant, she wondered how it would be to jump into the funeral pyre of her sons. She didn’t, though. Not when her husbands looked so distraught and hopeless that once again, the responsibilities were on her shoulders to keep them going. Of course, Draupadi admitted that she might have tried if Krishna hadn’t stood beside her throughout. He might have appeared loose-limbed, but she felt the tension radiating from him. He had a light grip on her wrist, ready to tighten the hold if she moved an inch.

“The sons of Kunti need you, Panchali. You are the only one who keeps them going.” Krishna murmured.

Draupadi nodded, not taking her eyes off the flames. The fire burned within her, too. Their rightful claim to the throne came at a heavy price. It would indeed be foolishness to throw it away. Was there a bigger insult to the warriors and their families if they couldn’t rebuild the kingdom from scratch and make it a haven for those left orphaned?

“Draupadi, the first star appeared in the sky,” Arjuna said, touching her arm to bring her back to the present.

She looked at him and smiled. He was a handsome man and looked beautiful, with water drops still glistening on his bare chest and shoulders. “I’ll light the diya.”

Arjuna turned to walk with her, his presence soothing her grief. He said nothing, but after all these years together, he didn’t need to. They shared a bond that didn’t need many words. It was far from perfect, and long ago, Draupadi disliked that he married three other women. Still, she understood why. It was the same she often felt—a lack of belongingness despite being surrounded by loved ones. For a while, she found it with the children, but the game of dice took it away from her.

Rolling the cotton wick between her palms, Draupadi thought of how her determination for justice was the only constant companion since her marriage to the Pandava brothers. Even agreeing to polyandry was to support the brothers’ claim of what rightfully belonged to them.

Placing the diya outside the hut’s door, Draupadi sat beside it and closed her eyes. Meditating on the Devi’s name would bring some peace.

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“Shh! Maharani is still in dhyana today. Don’t disturb her, Sahadeva.” Bhima’s voice seeped into her consciousness despite it being a whisper. Her lips curved into a soft smile. She must have lost track of time again. It had been happening often since they began the Mahaprasthana. With no one to disturb her peace for instructions or advice, Draupadi could meditate for as long as she wanted.

“That’s fine.” She replied, looking at Sahadeva, who sat facing her, a couple of feet away. The dog settled near him, its belly exposed, expecting a good rub. Bhima stood at the hut’s door holding a ladle in his hand. He had taken over cooking the evening meal. Draupadi breathed in a warm aroma of something sweet.

Bhima grinned as her side widened. “Yes, Maharani. I’m making your favorite dish of broken wheat in jaggery and milk, served with delicious ghee.”

“Where did you get so much ghee for cooking?”

Sahadeva replied with a shrug as he obliged the dog by rubbing its belly. “I assisted a young couple to deliver a calf in the afternoon. They were struggling with the poor cow and had no parents to help them. They gave me a small pot of ghee as a thank you.”

Draupadi extended her arms with a smile. Bhima and Sahadeva held each of her hands in theirs, once again showing their love for her. It was moments like these that eased the pain in her heart and made her feel with others. Whatever hardships she had suffered were worth it to be loved by her Pandavas. The brothers could have saved the ghee for daily rituals, but used it to make her feel special by cooking her favorite sweet dish.

“I hope you cooked some porridge too, Bhima! Draupadi may be content with the sweet, but we need something else too.” Nakula teased, walking towards them with a scroll in his hands. He appeared fresh as a spring flower, Draupadi thought. No matter the time of the day or where they lived, Nakula looked well put together, as if he would receive royal guests at any moment.

Bhima’s guffaw filled their little hermitage with lightness. He gave a hearty thump on Nakula’s shoulder and went inside to finish cooking.

Nakula sat beside her, pointing to their map. “We’ll travel eastwards but at a distance from Gaya. Do you want a detour to the sacred site, Draupadi, or should we go on as planned?”

They had completed a circumambulation of Bharatavarsha by visiting the sacred sites mentioned by Rishi Lomasa. The five years during their thirteen-year exile, when Arjuna lived with his birth father, Indra, left Draupadi and the four brothers restless. Narada Muni and Rishi Lomasa arrived at their hut to recommend a pilgrimage. In fact, the rishi and several other ascetics had accompanied them, explaining the significance and greatness of each sacred site.

Draupadi and the brothers soon realized the pilgrimage gave them physical exercise and strengthened their minds. Though they missed Arjuna, they could look forward to reclaiming the lost kingdom after the exile ended. The devas had blessed them throughout.

“A detour to Gaya would be nice. But I’d like to stay here until winter begins. We are far enough from the riverbank and Ma Ganga wouldn’t flood our hut when the monsoon arrives next.” Draupadi said. She didn’t want to move from Kasi yet.

The others nodded. Arjuna and Yudhistira had joined them, sitting beside Sahadeva, who agreed to her plan. “We could do that. When winter gets colder, we could camp in Anga and resume the journey next spring.”

“Anga has a sensible ruler now,” Bhima said from inside.

Draupadi noticed a flicker of pain on Yudhistira’s features and ignored it. The oldest Pandava brother was heartbroken after Ma Kunti revealed Karna was her son, born to Surya Deva when she was a teenager. She set the newborn in a basket to drift through the rivers, hoping someone would give him a happy home. The baby was found by Adhiratha, Dhritarashtra’s best friend, and his wife, Radha. The Suta couple adopted the child and named him Vasusena, seeing the glittering golden armor and earrings on his body. Vasusena, who later gained fame as Karna, was Duryodhana’s partner in crime and loyal friend.

“The lads are skilled, at least the ones I met at our archery contest three years ago, and they respect elders a lot,” Arjuna added. The dig wasn’t lost on anyone. Karna, for all his generous qualities, let his arrogance and ill manners take over his sensible side. He often insulted Bhishma, Vidura, Dronacharya, and Kripacharya in the Kuru sabha, calling them traitors for supporting the Pandavas.

Draupadi still laughed at the absurdity of it. None of them, except Vidura, who had no proper position or power, stood by the Pandavas when it mattered. They were silent when the monster Dushasana dragged her to the sabha and tried to disrobe her. They let Duryodhana, Dushasana, and Karna insult her in the worst manner. After the exile, they couldn’t convince the greedy Duryodhana to return Indraprastha as per the terms. At every point, Bhishma, the grandsire, had stuck to his vow to protect the throne and to support the Kauravas. Draupadi had little sympathy or respect for such elders and none for Karna, no matter how much Yudhistira cried for them.

“Brothers…” Yudhistira began and stopped when Draupadi raised an eyebrow, daring him to continue.

She had made it clear—he may grieve his elder brother Karna, but he had no right to expect them to follow the lead. Even if his brothers did, Draupadi wouldn’t. She had finally let go of her anger, but that didn’t mean she would replace it with empathy. Apathy suited better.

Turning to Bhima, Draupadi said with a smile. “Will you feed us now, Raja of the kitchen?”

“Yes, yes, Bhima. I’m famished.” Nakula added.

“Go, go! I’m serving.” Bhima shooed them to wash their hands and legs.

“At last!” Sahadeva grinned as he stood up.

Arjuna offered his hand to Draupadi, and she took it with a light laugh.

Even Yudhistira smiled, pointing at the rising moon peeking from the horizon. Draupadi curled her hand around his upper him and gave it an assuring squeeze. The six of them were happy together and needed no one else.

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