#bhishma

[stxrrynxghts]

Thinking about how Bhishma loved the children of his father, then the children of his brother, and then the children of his nephews, cherishing them like his very own. Perhaps he loved them more than he would have loved his own children. He must have let them climb on top of his shoulders. He must have let them play with his hair and beard. He must have kissed their tiny bellies as they burst into giggles. He must have held their fingers as they tried to walk for the first time. He must have let them sleep in his lap, all day long. He must have taught them how to ride a horse, how to hold a bow, how to swing a sword.

He must have cried as he turned his weapons against them.

He must have cried as he saw them die, one by one.

He must have cried as his blood and tears mixed into one.

[jabbering-on-jaya]

[jacobpking]

THE MAHABHARATA - Part 1 👑

This will be Part 1 of 5/6 I think. MUCH more to come, stay tuned! Any advice, critiques and comments are much appreciated!

[aru-loves-krishnaxarjuna]

Mahabharata in Social Media

Part 1 –> Masterlist

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Family Group Chat!?

Is/can be very very VERY ooc

Dhritarashtra created a GC

Dhritarashtra added Duryodhana, Dushasana, Dushalana, Yuyutsu, +97 Kauravas

Dhritarashtra added Gandhari and Dushyala

Dhritarashtra added Bhishma, Vidura, Kripa and Drona

Dhritarashtra added Shakuni

Dhritarashtra added Kunti

Dhritarashtra added Yudhisthira

Dhritarashtra added Bhima

Dhritarashtra added Arjuna

Dhritarashtra added Nakula and Sahadeva

Family✨️❤️🤗

Duryodhana: This what?

Sahadeva: What's this?*

Duryodhana: Don't correct me, I know basic grammar 😡

Bhima: As if

Dhritarashtra: This is a group chat

Duryodhana: And why, Pitashree?

Dhritarashtra: So we could all talk and share our problems ☺️🥰

Nakula: Lmao

Arjuna: Nawwwhh—

Sahadeva: Lol

Bhishma: Great idea, Putra Dhritarashtra 😄

Yudhisthira: Yeah :)

Dushasana: As if we ever 'talk' 😔

Duryodhana: I would rather kill 😇

Bhima: I would rather smash your bones 🙂

Bhishma: Putra Bhima and Putra Duryodhana, ham sab ek parivar hai. Hum Kuruvanshi hai

Dushyala: Honestly... sad of you to think that, Pitamah 😐😔

Yudhisthira: Please don't say that, sister Dushyala, we are a family together. We should respect each other and talk properly with each other, that way we can lead Hastinapur together 😃

Dushalana: Kinda delusional 😐

Arjuna: Hush Bhrata Dushalan, Delulu is the solulu 🫠

Duryodhana: Wha–

Nakula: You won't understand, Bhrata Duryodhana 😂🤣

Arjuna is offline

Shakuni: Mere bacche, Yudhisthira ko sochne doh, woh hamesha apne dharmic bhram mei rehta hai

Bhishma: You're right, Putra Yudhisthira!

Duryodhana: Mera rajyatilak kab, Pitaji?

Nakula: Thankfully, not in this Yuga

Dushasana: Shut up, Nakula 🙄😒

Bhima: Jab tumhara rajyatilak hoga tab praja tumpar ande aur patthar phekke maregi 😇

Duryodhana: I will kill you, Bhima!! 😡

Dushasana: Your death soon, Bhrata Bhima 😚

Shakuni: Mere baccho, kabhi maun rehna bhi avashyak hota hai

Duryodhana: Mamashree, what? You were the one who planned it?? That you would mix poison in Bhima's food the next time?

Shakuni: MERE BACCHE DELETE THAT MESSAGE

Duryodhana: I definitely have a bigger brain that that

Bhima: WTF—!?

Nakula: 😎🍿... wow!

Vidura: HUH!?!

Kunti: 😨😰😱

Gandhari: Bhai, I didn't expect this 😶

Shakuni: This is just a misunderstanding, Didi 😅

Arjuna is back online

Arjuna has seen

Arjuna: Sup, what'd I miss?

Bhima: My murder plan is being discussed in front of everyone 😃😄😃

Arjuna: ...oh, everyday drama you mean?

Nakula: 💀💀💀💀

Sahadeva: 👻👻

Arjuna: Just this time caught in 4k 🤷‍♂️

Bhishma: 😰😰

Duryodhana: Koi na, there is always a next time, we can make another one 🥰

Dushasana: Yeah, exactly 🤗

Shakuni: I raised your brains better than this 🤦‍♂️

Bhishma: Mera Kuruvansh 😭😭😭

Dhritarashtra: ...I am blind 👨‍🦯‍➡️

Bhima: Of course you are 😑

Nakula: He is always blind to his 'priya putra's actions 🙄😒

Sahadeva: Damn straight 🫥

Yudhisthira: Why does everyone want to kill each other? 😶

Duryodhana: Don't worry, you're next 🤗

Bhishma: Duryodhana, apne vichar apne paas rakho, Putra

Dushasana: Arey, boodha bhairav, unke vichar unki marzi

Bhishma: Boodha Bhairav!?!?

Shakuni: Baccho, maun raho, woh Pitamah hai tumhare

Dushasana: What, Mamashree, you're the one who calls him boodha bhairav ●_●

Bhishma: Gandhara Raja, what!?!?–

Shakuni removed Dushasana from this group chat

Nakula added Dushasana to the group chat

Nakula: You can't remove the fun element from this group 😛

Yudhisthira: Nakula 😑

Nakula: Whaaat??

Duryodhana added Karna to the group chat

Duryodhana: Everyone, meet my priya mitra, Karna, again 🥰

Bhishma kicked Karna out of this group chat, damn

Duryodhana: WTF, excuse me!?

Bhishma: He isn't family

Arjuna: Lmfao

Arjuna: Even the notification that said Karna was kicked out said 'damn' ☠️

Bhima: Well deserved!

Duryodhana: As if this IS family 🤡

Nakula: Why did you attach a pic of yours at the end, Bhrata Duryodhana!? 😂😂

Duryodhana: Whatever 🙄

Arjuna: ...yeah, keep rolling those eyes. Maybe you will find a brain back there

Bhima: OOOHH—

Nakula: DAAAAMMNNN 💀💀💀

Sahadeva: Roasted, cooked, fried, burnt, served, ate 💀💥✨️

Duryodhana is offline

Yudhisthira: Arjuna!!

Arjuna: What, Jyesht...? 🥺🥺🥺 *all innocent*

Bhima: OOO HOHHOHOHO 🤣🤣🤣

Dushyala: ...honestly, deserved–

Dushasana: SISTER!?!?

Dushyala: Nawh I am in my Queenie Era 💅✨️👑👸🗿

Nakula: SLAAAAYYYY—

Sahadeva: I like this side of Dushyala

Yuyutsu: Both Bhrata Arjuna and Didi Dushyala are slaying today... from ALL ways 😭😂😂

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Twitter

@Duryodhana_the_best

@Duryodhana_the_best: Definitely a family @TheBestArcher_Karna 🥰

@TheBestArcher_Karna: Yes Mitra 🥰

@ThemostHandsome_Nakula: More like husband 🤫

@Mightiest_Bhima: How I wish you were born in his family and not yours 😔

@Devavrata_Bhishma.Kuru: I respect your sentiments, Putra Duryodhana, but NO.

@ChausarMaster_Shakuni: Rajmata Kunti has been silent for a while, hasn't she?

@Duryodhana_the_best: Mamashree what?

@ChausarMaster_Shakuni: Kuchh nahi, mere bacche

Trending:

#usualthingsinKuruvansh

#Duryodhanawtf

#lolDuryodhanaandKarna

#everythingiswrongwiththisgeneration

Got most of the reference and idea from @jiyaarererererere from Wattpad

[sambhavami]

Mahabharata Writing Prompts

Type 1 – Character POVs

Sure, exploring the epic from the POVs of our beloved main characters is fun, but have considered going a bit off the beaten track? Here’s a set of prompts that are just the right amount of weird.

Timeframe: “The Creation of Indraprastha”

Character: “Draupadi’s attendant”

Is she wary? Is she happy? Or sad to have left Panchal and in the middle of another move so soon? How does she handle Draupadi’s husband schedule? Is she effectively the only witness here that sees Draupadi grow up from a pampered princess to a responsible queen and further on? Does she like Subhadra? What does she do after Dyuta Sabha, stay with Draupadi or go with her children? Is she comfortable with Draupadi and Krishna’s friendship? Or is she close enough to understand it?

2. Timeframe: “Aftermath of the Dyuta Sabha running up to the beginning of Kurukshetra”

Character: “Random Guard in Indraprastha”

The previous Good King and the entire royal family have seemingly vanished into thin air. The new Bad King doesn’t really care about this place, he only wanted to take it away from the Good King. Does he quit? Does he begrudgingly stay on in a kingdom that is just floating leaderless in free space? What happens when the war comes? Does he run away to join the old Kings, or does he stay on and fight with his comrades, doesn’t matter which side? What about his family?

3. Timeframe: “Kurukshetra”

Character: “A member of the Narayani Sena”

Is he a friend of Krishna’s from Vrindavan? If so, what does he feel about being farmed out to Duryodhana? What happens when on the battlefield he sees Krishna on the other side? What if Krishna’s getting hurt, and he is being egged on to join in on the fun? Is Krishna then aggressively mouthing ‘Do. Your. Job!’ to him in response to his hesitation? Does he still have trouble reconciling the ‘makhan-chora’ to the ‘yogeshwara’?

Type 2 – Time Travel

We all have that one bookmarked fic, with that lovely little cross-yuga romance, right? What if it was a little more?

This one pretty much has two solid directions:

1. Person A is recruited by an agency to go take an interview of one of our main characters (Arjuna?/Krishna?/Draupadi?/Karna?/Duryodhana?). However, plot twist: they are simply plopped onto the ground with no explanation or back story. How do they claw their way to the proximity of these royal characters without exposing themselves? What is the cover they build for themselves? How does their gender or general Kali-yuga upbringing affect their journey?

2. One of the main characters somehow get transported to the modern world. What happens then? Are they physically transported here? Is it a body-swap situation? In this case, what is the body-swapped Kali-yuga person faring in the past (in a pretty complicated political situation that too!)? How fast do they adjust to the other world? What kind of relationships do they form? Do they run into re- or pre- incarnations of friends and family? Do wires get crossed in that case? How complicated can it be? How, for example, would they deal with something like Covid?

Type 3 – Turn Left (courtesy Doctor Who, ifykyk)

Mostly, what-if scenarios, nice for a thought exercise; can be damned interesting to explore. Let’s start with the most obvious questions first:

1. What if Bheeshma had never agreed to Dasa-raja’s conditions and married someone?

2. What if Draupadi was only married to Arjuna?

3. What if Krishna took Radha with him to Mathura?

Then some of the wackier ones, imo:

1. Bheeshma’s Vasu-wife, the one he initially got cursed for, hanging around Bheeshma all through his life, even if she doesn’t get a ‘married life’ with him. Would she choose to be reborn as a human, or remain around him as an invisible goddess? Would she remain neutral, or would her presence mess with our story?

2. What if the Pandavas grew up, in Vrindavan, with Krishna and Balarama, dodging both Kamsa and Duryodhana (or would he even be interested in this scenario)?

3. What if, when Krishna offered, Duryodhana actually chose Krishna instead of the Narayani Sena? If so, would he help the Kauravas as much as he did the Pandavas, or would he quietly sabotage all their efforts? Would he sabotage them smiling all the time, or would he become a world-class bummer to be around? Would Duryodhana in this case just throw him in a prison and forget about it? Would the Pandavas in that case take it lying down? Does his presence so close to Duryodhana keep Karna perpetually teering over the edge of a mental breakdown, vis-à-vis his birth situation and Krishna’s overall unhelpfulness?

If you like these, feel free to let me know...and I'll work on more.

If you do end up using any of these (either completely or partially), all I ask that you send me a link to it, because I would love nothing more than to read it! ❤️❤️❤️

[yumjum414]

Echo's of a life lived

What did my father call me when I was younger?

As Arjuna plunged into the abyss, he heard his brother Bhima's voice calling out to him, the last desperate cry for him to hold on. His other brother did not even spare him a glance. The son of Yama merely uttered the cold truth- his most fatal flaw- and continued on his path to enlightenment.

The jagged edges of the mountain tore through his skin, each impact sending shocks of pain through his weary frame. Yet pain was nothing new to Arjuna; it had been a companion in every chapter of his life. Now, at the end, it felt almost like a solace door waiting to open, leading him to where his Madhav stood with open arms.

The spinning world came to a stop. His back lay against the unforgiving earth, and his eyes, tired yet unseeing, beheld the pristine blue sky above. It reminded him of the ocean surrounding Dwaraka, of the waves Krishna had once commanded with laughter in his voice. The clouds hung still, like the frozen crests of those very waves.

Had I always been Arjuna?

No I think he had called me Krishnaa.

What was the name of the book that Sahadeva and I debated over a lifetime ago?

Among all his brothers, Sahadeva had been his quiet solace. Bhima and Nakula carried an energy that demanded attention, but Sahadeva was the stillness in the storm. The two of them, introspective in their ways, had navigated chaos with shared glances and unspoken words. Though, when the time came, they were the very sparks that ignited mischief.

Despite his calm demeanor, Sahadeva possessed a wit sharper than any blade. When Yudhishthira once sought his advice on moral dilemmas, he had responded, "Try not to gamble your kingdom next time." The entire hall had erupted into laughter- everyone except Yudhishthira.

His youngest brother, with unparalleled knowledge, is his gentle, kind Deva. He used to be the tiniest baby, with chubby hands always reaching toward his untamable curls. One smile from his youngest brother, soft and fleeting, like a timid ray of sunlight peeking through clouds, could melt Arjun's heart like utter softening under the sun's warmth. His brother carried the heavy burden of knowing the future

I hope we can still talk about your favorite poems and lament the foolishness of the world around us, just like we did when we were young- perhaps somewhere beyond this realm.

Nakul, have I ever told you that your laughter was enough to lighten the darkest of days?

Nakul, the charmer, the peacemaker, the one who never failed to make Arjuna smile even when grief held him captive. His younger brother was more than his renowned beauty; he possessed a rare kindness, an understanding of emotions as deep as Sahadeva's understanding of logic.

Perhaps it was why animals were drawn to him. The wildest of creatures-horses, birds, even stray dogs-flocked to his side as if they could sense his untamed heart, one free of malice. Bhima had once joked that Nakula could win wars simply by leading an army of beasts.

After Abhimanyu's death, Nakula approached Arjuna in the gentlest, most thoughtful way. He tended to small things, like polishing Abhimanyu's weapons or leaving food by Arjuna's side when he wouldn't eat. "I can't imagine your pain, Bhrata, but I do know this-Abhimanyu adored you. Every time he spoke of you, his eyes shone brighter than the sun. He would want you to keep fighting, to honor his memory. He'd never forgive me if I let you give up." Nakula's quiet, persistent care reminded Arjuna that he wasn't alone in his grief, even when words failed.

Thank you for always cheering me up. I hope you'll still be there to annoy me when it's my turn to join you.

Bhima's bear-like embrace- when was the last time I held him?

Bhima, his elder brother, his shield, his greatest rival and ally. They had turned everything into a competition: who could shoot faster, who could run farther, who could lift the heaviest weight. Bhima, who laughed the loudest, fought the fiercest, and loved the hardest.

Bhima, who always teased Arjuna when he won, saying, "Even the greatest archer can't outmatch my strength," and Arjuna would retort, "Strength is nothing without precision, brother."

On the battlefield, they had been an unstoppable force. Bhima would clear the path like a storm, and Arjuna would follow, striking with precision. Together, they had been a force of nature, their synergy unmatched. Yet Bhima, the mighty warrior, was also the one who cradled children in his arms, who told the wildest tales of war, exaggerating every detail just to hear the laughter of his loved ones. "The asura was as tall as three mountains!" I roll my eyes every time.

How could I have ever doubted the love in his heart? I would give anything for just one more embrace.

Jesth Bharata... I never meant those words I said that day.

When their father died, Yudhishthira wiped Bhima's tears, held Arjuna for hours as he wept, and consoled the twins as they witnessed their mother step into the fire. After that, he tended to the rishis, ensuring they were fed, and took on the immense burden of handling the funeral rites with a composure no child his age should have had to bear.

For years after, Yudhishthira was their father. The one who guided them, the one who worried over them, the one who bore the weight of duty so that his brothers would not have to. He smoothed their fears with his steady voice, his hands firm but kind upon their shoulders. Arjuna wondered- had Yudhishthira ever been a child himself? Had he ever been allowed to stumble, to make mistakes, to cry without the weight of responsibility forcing him to wipe his own tears before anyone could see?

Perhaps that was why fate had been so unkind to him, why Dharma itself tested him in ways none of them could comprehend. Because Yudhishthira had never been allowed to fail and learn from it-he was expected to be right, always. A flawless king, a righteous man, an unwavering guide. But Arjuna knew the truth. Knew that behind the wisdom, the patience, the seeming detachment, there was a man who had once been a boy- one who had carried too much for too long, whose heart had been burdened by expectations too heavy to bear.

And Arjuna, in all his righteousness, had failed to see it until it was too late.

Jesth Bharata, forgive me.

Abhimanyu, what did your smile look like, my son?

His dimpled face, radiant like the moon, the sparkle in his eyes that held boundless curiosity and mischief. He had smiled just like his mother- soft yet unwavering, with an innocence that belied the warrior's blood in his veins. His laughter had been the sweetest melody Arjuna had ever known, echoing through the halls of Indraprastha, in the courtyards where he trained, in the soft glow of evening when father and son sat side by side, speaking of battle, honor, and dreams of the future.

Arjuna remembered the first time Abhimanyu had held a bow. The boy had been so small, barely able to pull the string, but determined, nonetheless. "One day, I will be like you, Pitashree," he had said, his voice bright with conviction. Arjuna laughed, adjusting his son's grip, ruffling his curls. "You will be greater, my son," he had promised.

But fate had stolen him away too soon. His pride, his greatest joy, had been left broken, surrounded by enemies, trapped in a web of deceit and cruelty. And Arjuna-mighty, victorious Arjuna-had not been there to save him.

Would he be waiting for him, just beyond this life? Would he rush toward him, grinning as he always did, bow in hand, eager to show his father how much stronger he had become?

Or would he look at him with quiet reproach, asking the question Arjuna had asked himself every day since that cursed battle- Why weren't you there?

Subhadra, did I ever tell you that your smile reminds me of our son?

His wife, his fire, his fiercest the princess who had taken the reins of her fate as easily as she had taken the reins of his chariot that fateful day. She had not waited to be rescued, nor had she hesitated when he held out his hand. She had laughed, eyes alight with mischief, wind whipping through her hair as they rode away, her knowing smile promising that this was only the beginning of their story.

He could still see her as she had been that day, unafraid, radiant, free. And when Abhimanyu was born, Arjuna saw her again in their son- in the crinkle of his eyes when he laughed, in the tilt of his head when he listened, in the sheer, unstoppable will that burned within him. He had her fire, her stubbornness, her boundless warmth.

But had he told her enough? Had he ever whispered to her in the quiet of the night how much she meant to him? That beyond war and duty, beyond victories and losses, it was she who had given him his greatest happiness?

Did I tell you enough, Priye? That I loved you since the moment I first saw you? That I loved you even more in every moment after?

Panchali, my fire, my queen- how could I ever have deserved your love?

From the moment she placed the garland around his neck, he had been hers. Not just by fate, not just by duty, but by the quiet pull of something deeper, something undeniable. She had chosen him, and yet, had he ever truly been worthy of her?

His most beautiful, fiercest, wisest wife. The one who had stood unbroken through every storm, who had faced humiliation and war with her chin held high, who had been the strength none of them had deserved, the strongest amongst them all. She had loved him despite his absences, despite the distances between them, despite the battles that had taken him far from her. She had been his fire, his fiercest advocate, his harshest truth. And yet, how many times had he let her down?

He had won her hand, but had he ever truly won her heart? Had he ever given her all that she had given him? Did she know, in the quiet moments, when duty did not weigh upon them, that he saw her? Not just as a queen, not just as the mother of his children, but as his Draupadi-the woman who had laughed at his arrogance, who had met his gaze without fear, who had walked beside him, always beside him, even when the world had turned against her.

Draupadi, tell me my love-how can I ever be worthy of you?

Uttara, my child, my daughter in all but blood.

Did I ever tell you that you were the daughter I always wanted to have and so much more?

He had watched her grow from a bright-eyed girl who once looked up to him with admiration, calling him Guru, to a woman who bore the weight of tragedy with a quiet, unyielding strength. The day Abhimanyu fell, she had not wept before others. She had carried his child within her, and for his sake, for the son who would never meet his father, she had stood unbroken, even when the world around her crumbled.

You were barely more than a child when the war stole everything from you. I watched you stand in the ashes of a shattered world, carrying life within you while drowning in grief. And yet, you endured.

I should have protected you, should have spared you from this pain. But you, my brave girl, bore it with a quiet strength that humbled even warriors.

You were always meant for joy, not sorrow. If only the gods had been kinder.

Did I ever tell you how proud I was of you?

My sons-brave, noble, gone too soon.

The best of us lived in you. Prativindhya carried your mother's fire, Sutasoma had Bhima's fierce heart, Shrutakarma bore my own stubborn will, Satanika was Nakula's sharp mind, and Shrutasena was Sahadeva's quiet wisdom.

You were not just our children- you were the promise of a future we would never see. You fought like lions, defended your home like true Kshatriyas. And yet, you were slain in your sleep, denied even the honor of a warrior's death.

How cruel fate is, to take our brightest stars before dawn.

Pitamah... Did you ever forgive me?

The man who had once held him as a child, who had taught him to wield a bow before he could even walk properly, now lay upon a bed of arrows- his own arrows.

Arjuna still remembered the firm grip of his Pitamah's hands as they corrected his stance, the deep voice that guided him through his first lessons, and the rare smile that softened his otherwise unyielding features when his young grandson struck his mark. Bhishma had been a fortress, an unshakable pillar of Hastinapura-until the day he fell by Arjuna's hand.

Arjuna had always known this battle would come. But he had never imagined what it would feel like.

He had fired those arrows with trembling fingers, his heart screaming even as his duty commanded him forward. Each shot had been precise, each strike had been devastating. But no matter how sharp his aim was, nothing could dull the pain in his chest.

"Pitamah," he had whispered, kneeling by the bed of arrows. "I-"

Bhishma had only smiled, weary yet serene. "You did well, my son," he had said, as if none of it- none of the war, the pain, the broken family- mattered anymore. But Arjuna could not take solace in those words. He wanted to believe them, wanted to believe that Bhishma had truly meant them. But how could he, when the sight of his grandfather, his teacher, his elder-pierced and broken by his own hands, haunted him even now?

Did you ever forgive me, Pitamah? Even if you did, I do not know if I can ever forgive myself.

Acharya, Did I ever make you proud?

From the moment I first held a bow, it was your voice that guided my hands. Your lessons shaped me, your praise lifted me, and your approval became my greatest pursuit. More than a teacher, more than a master of warfare, you were like a father to me.

I gave you my everything. I trained until my fingers bled, until my arms ached from drawing the bowstring a thousand times over. I surpassed every challenge, met every expectation, and honed my craft with a devotion unmatched by any of your disciples. And in return, you called me your greatest student. You assured me that I was the best, that no one- not even your own son- could rival me.

But tell me, Acharya, did you ever truly mean it?

Was I your pride, or merely your sharpest blade? A weapon you forged with care, but never love?

I told myself it didn't matter. That your approval, your teachings, your guidance were enough. That your distance, your unwavering gaze fixed on your son, did not bother me. But on the battlefield, when I stood before you as an enemy, I saw the truth.

You looked at me not as a son, not even as a beloved student, but as a mere warrior standing in your way. And yet, when you fell, when you closed your eyes for the last time, I could not help but wonder-did some part of you, even for a fleeting moment, think of me as yours?

Acharya, you were a father to me. But was I ever a son to you?

Mata... did I ever tell you how much I missed you?

Kunti, the mother who shaped them all, the woman whose love was as fierce as the storms she endured. She was the first person to ever hold him, to ever whisper his name with pride, to ever soothe his childhood fears. He remembered the way her hands, calloused yet gentle, ran through his curls as she sang lullabies that carried the weight of ages.

He used to watch her in awe as a child-how she carried herself, how she stood tall even when fate stripped everything away from her. She never wept where they could see, never faltered where they could hear. Her strength was like the unyielding earth beneath his feet-always there, always holding them up, even when it cracked under its burdens.

And yet, he wondered... did she ever long for a moment of softness? A moment where she wasn't a queen, wasn't a mother, wasn't duty-bound-just Kunti?

She had raised them with fierce love but also with lessons that often tasted bitter. Her decisions had shaped their fates, made them stronger, but also left wounds too deep to ever truly heal. There had been times he resented her, times he wished she had chosen differently, times he wished she had been gentler with them. But as he grew older, as he carried his own burdens, he understood. She had done what she thought was right-what she had to do.

And then there was Karna.

Arjuna's breath caught in his chest at the mere thought of him. The shadow of a brother he never got to know, the warrior who should have been by his side but instead stood against him. The man he had hated, fought, and finally killed-only to learn the truth when it was far too late.

For years, anger had burned in his heart like an unrelenting fire. But now, as he lay upon the cold rocks, it was not anger that remained- only sorrow. Had Karna ever wondered, even for a second, what it would have been like to stand with them, to be one of them?

Would things have been different if Kunti had spoken the truth earlier? Would it have changed anything at all, or was fate too cruel, too unyielding to ever let them be brothers in this life?

The last time he saw Kunti, she had been walking away. Choosing exile, choosing to leave them behind along with Dhritarashtra and Gandhari. He hadn't understood it then, had barely spoken a word when she made her choice. But now, as he lay battered and broken upon the mountains, he understood. She had given everything for them- her youth, her happiness, her very being. And in the end, she had simply wanted rest.

Mata, did you ever find peace? Did you ever forgive yourself?

Because I forgave you a long time ago.

Madhav-was I ever truly Arjuna before meeting you?

You were my charioteer, my guide, my anchor when the world threatened to sweep me away. You were my laughter in moments of quiet, my wisdom in moments of doubt, my Sakha in every joy and sorrow. Without you, was I ever truly Arjuna, or was I just a shadow of the man you once steadied?

Do you remember, Madhav? The nights in Dwarka when we raced our chariots under the moonlight, laughing like reckless children? When we sat by the ocean, watching the waves kiss the shore, speaking of things too great for even kings and warriors to understand? When you stole my crown mid-battle, just to scold me for my pride, and I could only shake my head because, as always, you were right?

Do you remember, Madhav, that morning in Vrindavan, before the weight of kingdoms and war lay upon our shoulders? When I woke to the sound of your flute, its melody weaving through the golden light of dawn, and found you perched beneath a tree, eyes closed, utterly at peace? I had never envied anyone more than I did in that moment. You belonged to the world, yet you were entirely your own.

I had asked you, "Do you ever tire of always knowing more than the rest of us?"

And you had only smiled. "Do you ever tire of always striving to be more than yourself?"

I had scoffed, pretending to take offense, but we both knew the truth. You understood me better than I ever did myself.

Do you remember the battlefield, Madhav? When my hands trembled, my heart wavered, and you caught my wrist, steady as the earth itself? "I am here, Parth," you had said. And that was all I needed to fight.

And when you left- oh, Madhav, how did you expect me to stay? How was I to go on in a world where your laughter no longer rang in my ears, where your words did not pull me back from the abyss?

I have walked through fire, wielded my Gandiva against gods and men, lost my son, my kin, my very soul- but nothing, nothing, has ever undone me as much as your absence.

Will you be waiting for me at the end?

His breathing slowed and he felt his strength all but vanish out of his once invincible body. 

But Arjuna had died long before his body ever fell.

He had died the day he placed his grandsire on a bed of arrows. He had died the moment he first saw his son's lifeless body.

And truly, he had stopped living the day his Madhav left him.

What was left for him in a world where Krishna did not walk?

Somewhere along the years, through war and bloodshed, he had always known- he would not die on the battlefield. Despite his name being synonymous with it, despite his life being defined by it, war had never been his final fate. His end was meant to be something quieter, something lonelier.

As he fell, the jagged rocks tearing through flesh and bone, his life did not flash before his eyes in a blur of bloodstained memories. No, instead, he saw the moments that had made life worth living.

The first time he held a bow, the wood smooth beneath his hands, his heart hammering with certainty: this was his calling. Pitamah's hand rested on his shoulder, firm yet gentle. "Steady, Arjuna. A warrior's hands must never tremble." And in that moment, with Bhishma's unwavering faith in him, he had never felt stronger.

"You remind me why I became a teacher, Arjuna," Guru Drona had said, resting a hand on his head, after the first time he struck the eye of a moving target. Just those words, simple and rare, had meant more to him than any title or prize.

The way Subhadra had laughed when she took the reins, wind whipping through her hair as they rode into the night.

The way Draupadi had looked at him that day in Kampilya- steady, knowing, fierce- as if she had chosen him long before she ever placed the garland around his neck.

The gleam of mischief in Nakul's eyes before a prank, the quiet steadiness in Sahadev's when he spoke truths no one else dared to say.

The warmth of Bhima's crushing embrace, the rare gentleness in Yudhishthira's touch when he wiped away his brothers' tears before shedding his own.

Abhimanyu, grinning, dimpled, bright as the sun itself, his little hands trying to pull the string of a bow far too large for him.

And then, there was Madhav.

Laughing beside him in Dwarka as they raced their chariots under the moonlight. Sitting by the ocean, speaking of things too vast even for warriors to comprehend. Catching his wrist in the midst of war, steadying him with nothing but the weight of his presence. His god. His very soul. 

He had been so tired for so long. 

His eyes fluttered open one last time. As the world around him blurred into light, a familiar voice, warm and teasing, cut through the silence.

"You just couldn't wait to see me again, Parth."

[ishaaron-ishaaron-me]

Moral of the story: Don’t be transphobic and respect pronouns

[theramblergal]

embers

Bhishma stares at Amba. 

The others call him (her?) Shikhandi. Duryodhana’s worried voice as he shouts at his warriors to “cover Pitamaha, damn it!” is a buzzing fly in his ear. Nothing more than an inconvenience.

The last he had seen of her was not in the radiant court of Hastinapura, swearing she would find a way to make him marry her, no. 

It had been an accident.

He had been separated from his hunting party, and had wandered into a clearing where he could sense the sharp tang of tapasya in the air. He was the son of Ganga after all; he was drawn to purity and divinity like a river is to the ocean. 

Then she had opened her eyes. 

She was not the slender maiden he had abducted for his younger brother any longer. She was emaciated, dirty, but her eyes burned with all the intensity of a forest fire that Bhishma found himself trapped inside. 

“You,” she had said, and, oh, it burned.

Bhishma sees the same smouldering gaze in Shikhandi now, on the battlefield, and the warrior smiles. 

It was his time to burn in the embers now.

just a little something I whipped up doing a 5 drabble challenge two days ago.

[incorrectmahabharatquotes]

IMQ Server Starbharat Samuhik Watch Party Memes #3

Credit to our beloved @chahaa-piun-ja.

-Mod S

[numbersandstars]

Exaltation Series: Mars in Dhanishta

An exalted planet means this planet has reached the higher point in its own sky. There, the planet feels free to unleash its power for better... Or worse. The sign where the planet is exalted allows the planet to flourish, as well as the nakshatra where the exaltation degree falls.

Mars Exalted in Dhanishta

Mars gets exalted at 28° in Capricorn, that is to say, in Dhanishta nakshatra (Dhanishta: 23°20 Capricorn to 6°40 Aquarius). Mars is the soldier in our charts. Mars has to take action because it is in his nature. He is able to overcome any hardships. He fights for what is right: he serves Sun, the king. As soon as he receives the orders, he goes straight to the target. In Dhanishta, Mars excels at fighting, whether physically or intellectually. Mars shines through a tremendous unusual discipline here. Mars works hard and sharpens his skills patiently. Thus, his intelligence gets stronger and he can master many disciplines. His energy is at its peak and channeled. Nothing can stop Dhanishta Mars natives. Mars overcomes any obstacles: it is hard but it does not scare him. If Jupiter and Rahu are well placed and/or if Rahu is linked to Mars, Mars can even find ways to avoid unnecessary hardships. If Mars is related to the ascendant or if he runs as a dasha lord, the natives use well thought strategies. Enemies, beware! Mars in Dhanishta can conquer the world. However, if Mars in Dhanishta is afflicted, the natives are able to wreck havoc. Bhishma is commonly related to Dhanishta: he was a feared prince and commander in the Mahabharat; all his decisions had a huge and tragic impact on his family and later on, on the whole population as the great war occurred. The strength of Mars in Dhanishta is such that it makes the natives incredibly stubborn. But is it this stubbornness always a good thing? Afflicted Mars in Dhanishta might not think about all the consequences around him: tender love, the simple pleasures of a peaceful family life around a warm fireplace are not made for the intense warrior, Mars. The most important thing for him is honor, values, battles. This cold passion can make the natives commit mistakes they can regret secretly.

[zeherili-ankhein]

Saw one more lol

“If Lord Krishna was not with the Pandavas, Karna would have ended the battle in one day”

Do you even read the actual version? 🥰

That guy? Seriously that guy? He ran away from Virat war because of Arjun.

And not to mention all the other times he fled because of Arjun.

His little ego was so hurt because of criticism he even refused to fight in kurukshetra while Bhishma was in command

Leave Arjun, he's even less capable than Satyaki, Abhimanyu or even goddamn Ashwathama for the records...

Even Bhima had defeated him once

I'm not even angry today just laughing at the pure dumbness of all the “wahh Karna so great” supporters 🫠

Also stop bringing in Krishna in each and everything Pandavas were more than capable to fight even without him

[jacobpking]

The Kuru dynasty is starting to take shape 👑

[aru-loves-krishnaxarjuna]

Mahabharata in Social Media

Part 5

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4 and Masterlist

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

All the Pandavas are getting married...!?

Twitter

@Dharmaputra_Yudhisthira

@Dharmaputra_Yudhisthira: Yay, congratulations, my dear Phalgun 🤗❤️

@Devavrata_Bhishma.Kuru: I knew you would make me proud, Putra Arjuna 🙂‍↕️

@RajMata_Prithaki.noPritha: Arjuna dearest, what did you win and where? Whatever you won, you should share with your brothers 🙂

@ThemostHandsome_Nakula: MATA WHAT!?!

@theyoungertwin_Sahadeva: ONG BHAGWAAN 😭🤦‍♂️

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Family ✨️❤️🤗

Kunti: Putra Nakula and Sahadeva, why did you react like that 🙁😕

Nakula: Damn Mata really doesn't know 😭😭

Sahadeva: MATA, BHRATA ARJUNA WON THE SWAYAMVAR OF PANCHALA KUMARI DRAUPADI AND YOU JUST ORDERED US ALL TO SHARE HER! 😫😭

Kunti: 😱😱😱

Yudhisthira: WHAT DID YOU DO MATA!?

Bhima: Yes, WHAT DID YOU DO!?!?

Dushyala: Omgggg Jyesht Yudhisthira is SCREAMING 🙀🙀...📷💥

Bhishma: Dushyala this is serious!

Kripa: And knowing the Pandavas they always listen to their mother 😔

Vidura: They HAVE to 💀😭

Dushasana: Omg Oldie 2.0 is becoming GEN Z–

Yudhisthira: WTF IS GENZ!?

Dushyala: OMG JYESHT CUSSED 😱🙀✨️📷💥

Duryodhana: Dushyala... SHUT UP!! I JUST LOST MY WIFEY, AND NOW SHE IS GONNA MARRY ALL THE FIVE PANDAVAS 🤬🤬

Arjuna and Krishna have come online

Arjuna and Krishna have seen

Krishna: 🤦‍♂️ Dang it, I knew it...

Arjuna: ...

Arjuna: ...I have to share my wife...with my BROTHERS...?

Arjuna: 🥺💔...

Yudhisthira: I am sorry Priye Bhai 😔💔

Krishna: Knew it, but...

Krishna: Oh Parth 🥺❤️‍🩹 *sniffle sniffle*

Dushalana: AAHH Shut up with all this melodrama my brother just lost his wife!

Gandhari: Parantu Putra, Dury wasn't even engaged?–

The Kauravas: ...

Duryodhana: 😭😭

Duryodhana: Stillll she was meant to be mine Maaa!! 💔💔😭😭😭

Dhritarashtra: It's alright, my son-

Gandhari: You're being a spoilt brat, Duryodhana 🙂😡

Duryodhana: 😶😰

Dushyala: Dayummm..... 📷💥✨️✨️

Dushasana: OMG BHRATA DURYODHANA DID THE IMPOSSIBLE 😱

Dushalana: OMGGG HE MADE MATA ANGRY! 😭

Vikarna: DAMMMNNNN 💀

Durmarshana: He's cooked 💀💀

Bhishma: Leave that, we have to discuss about Rajkumari Draupadi first 😠

Krishna: 😐😑😐

Krishna added 'Sakhi 💅🌟🔥' to the Group Chat

Krishna changed their name to 'Draupadi'

Draupadi has seen

Draupadi: ...

Draupadi: Oh my god, I-

Arjuna: I am sorry that this had to happen to you because of me, Devi 🙏🙇‍♂️

Krishna: Don't blame yourself, Parth

Arjuna: But Madhav–

Krishna: Or I will be angry 😤

Arjuna has muted himself

Krishna: 😶

Literally everyone else: ...

Vidura: ...uhm… chile, anyways so–

Kripa: Yes about Rajkumari Draupadi's marriage–

Draupadi: Ekscoos meh ur honour ✋️😔✨️

Kunti: 😶

Bhishma: 😶😶

Vidura: 🫥

Kripa: 😶😶😶

Drona: 😶😶

The Kauravas: 😶‍🌫️

Nakula: ...

Nakula: aight, she's my type-

Sahadeva: Same– but Nakula sthu-

Bhima: ...no comments

Yudhisthira: ...

Arjuna has unmuted himself

Arjuna: Nakuuuula 😭😭

Arjuna: 🎶🎵What about me...WHAT ABOUT MEE...?!🎵🎶 😫😭

Arjuna: It was ME who won her hand 😭😭

Yuyutsu: I know brothah it's unfair to you, here have a hug 🫂

Arjuna: thanksss 🥺🫂

Draupadi: ...

Draupadi: Dil toota bhi aur rootha bhi

Arjuna: ...riyal-

Krishna: Parth, calm do-

Arjuna has muted himself...again

Krishna: 😶😶

Krishna: D- damn he really does take everything I say seriously... ❤️‍🩹😭

Draupadi: So what I was saying is...

Draupadi: I had a boon from my past life from Bhagwaan Mahadeva Shiva himself that I will get 5 husbands in my next life, i.e. my current one, because I had wished for a husband with all the five virtues and characteristics and I had wished for it 5 whole times hence 5 husbands so it was fated and I just asked Maharishi Vyasa about my fate and he told me–

The elders: 😶...

The Pandavas: 😳🤯

Duryodhana: Bleh! Ain't nobody got time to read allat! 🙄😒

Draupadi: 😐 long story short, I was fated to marry the Pandavas

Draupadi: So I was NEVER meant to be your wife nor will ever be 🖕🥰 frick you, bastard 😇😷

Draupadi: That's why you will always be wifeless because you are stuck up

Draupadi: You didn't bother reading a lady's message so how tf will you listen to your wife if you ever had one? ✨️💅

Arjuna has unmuted himself

Arjuna: That reminds me, did you still find your brain back there by rolling your eyes... if you ever even had one?

Duryodhana has gone offline

Krishna: Parth...I AM DAMN PROUD OF YOU!!! 😘😘😘😘😘🥰🥰🥰🥰😍😍😍😍😍🤩🤩

Arjuna: 🙏🥺🥹❤️‍🩹💝🤍🥰🥰🥰

Yudhisthira: What in the name of Love Story of Taylor Swift and of Indila is going onn!? 😭😫

Dushyala: OMG JYESHT IS FRUSTRATED FOR THE FIRST TIME- 📷💥

Yuyutsu: 💀🙏😭

Bhishma: ...

Kunti: Alr, Putra Krishna, tell me... ARE MY SONS GONNA MARRY DRAUPADI OR IS ARJUNA GONNA MARRY YOU!?!?

Krishna: The first one, Bua 😊

Krishna: We can do the latter one later

Krishna: 😏😏🤭🤭🤫

Arjuna: 😳😳 *struck by Kamadeva on Vasanta's request, again lol* 💘💘💘

Krishna: 🥰🥰

LITERALLY Everyone else: 💀💀

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Twitter

@DaddyIssuesforSis_Dhrish

@DaddyIssuesforSis_Dhrish: Meri Pyari, Sundar Behena ka Vivah 🥰

@Duryodhana_the_best: 😭😭😭 THIS MARRIAGE IS PREPOSTEROUS!!

@notsochill_Balarama: I trained you better than this, Duryodhana 😑

@Arjuna_ka_Madhav: My Sakhi and Parth are so beautiful and handsome aww 🤭🥰

@Devavrata_Bhishma.Kuru: Mere Kuruvansh mei kya ho rha hai, ye to kichdi se bhi zyada palna shuru ho gya 😭😖

@Vidura_ki_Vidurniti: Retweeting with Indila's 'Love Story' for Krishna and Arjuna though 😄

@Drupada_Panchala: But this is my Daughter’s marriage!!

@Vidura_ki_Vidurniti: Yes, and? 🤨 Because even between this, my nephew and his lover are at peak 😭🤣

Trending: #kyahorhahai?

#Bhishmakakuruvanshiskhandkhand

#DraupadixPandavas

#KrishnaxArjuna?

#Duryodhanakesapnokibalichadhgyi

[blackknight-100]

Thank you so much for writing about Vrishasena and Arjuna. Could you please also write something about them but in an AU where Kunti tells them the truth (before the dyut sabha)? Something fluffy, please!

This ask has been sitting in my inbox for four months. I'm so sorry anon, fluff is really not my thing, but I tried. I hope you like this little thing. Previous angst version is here.

1.

It is a bitter winter morning when Arjuna finds his mother in the royal hall, prepared to sweep his world from under his feet. He huddles together with his brothers, glancing warily as the Kaurava retinue moan and complain among themselves about being summoned. Pitamaha is here as well, as are the King and the Queen, and Uncle Vidura.

“Has something happened?” the later inquires.

“We are awaiting the arrival of Angaraj,” Mother Kunti says, white knuckles wringing at her saree.

Duryodhana perks up like a hunting dog. “Why do you need him?” he demands, possessive as ever.

“I am sure Her Majesty has her reasons,” Uncle Vidura tries, but Duryodhana is on a roll.

“You keep trying to speak to him, cornering him at court and courtyard, trying to turn my friend against me! Why else would the Pandava’s mother be so interested in the man that trounced her sons? I think-”

No one manages to hear his what he thinks, because Kunti interrupts this tirade by screaming, “He is my son!”

 

2.

In hindsight, it is only meet that Karna – who is apparently his brother – gatecrashes the party halfway through Kunti’s sobbing explanation. Arjuna is reasonably sure the man has never given up the chance to barge into situations with the discretion of a charging bull. Perhaps that is why they call him Vrisha.

Much to his chagrin, Karna and his sons are immediately swept up into the Kaurava ranks even as their mother speaks of floating the baby in the river.

Duryodhana speaks right over her, like the churlish prince he is, and asks, “What took you so long?”

“The storms felled quite a few trees.” Arjuna’s newfound brother shrugs and turns to Mother Kunti with a look of abject concern. “Who is this baby in the river? Should we send out search parties? Surely, it is not right to just leave him be.”

Half the gathering stares at him. Uncle Vidura lets out a long-suffering sigh. Pitamaha smacks his forehead into a pillar. All in all, the Kuru family never fails in being predictable.

 

3.

For his own part, Karna takes the news surprisingly well, right up until Pitamaha reveals that he would now be officially part of the family and one of the contenders for the throne. This sparks a terrible debate – for all his meddling in Duryodhana’s plans, the King of Anga appears to have little interest in being king of anyplace else. Brother Yudhisthira, with all his half-divine morality, protests being a part of any contention that involves his older brother as a competitor. Uncle Vidura, who is the Pandavas biggest advocate in the Kuru court, takes this about as well as expected, which is to say: not well at all.

Arjuna has migrated to a corner to escape the shouting, rubbing his forehead to put off an oncoming headache. A figure sidles up to him and offers a small canister.

“This might help, Uncle.”

For a moment Arjuna nearly mistakes him for Karna – which should not be possible, given that his new brother is still yelling about something, and would never call him ‘uncle’ besides – but then he notices the differences. Anga’s Crown Prince is as fair as his father, but his cheeks are still adorably round, and his hair is several shades darker. He is also smiling, which is not a reaction Arjuna has ever garnered from his father, although he has seen Karna laugh often enough in his cousin’s company.

“Vrishasena, is it? Well met. What is this?”

Vrishasena bows. “Yes indeed, uncle. My greetings. This is for your headache.”

Arjuna takes the canister with raised eyebrows. Inside, there is a familiar slimy green paste. “You carry balms around?” he asks, smirking.

Vrishasena shrugs easily. “People are annoying,” he says, then winks cheekily at him and adds, “not you though. You have pretty hair.”

Arjuna’s startled laughter lasts a very long time.

 

+1.

“Father is wonderful,” Vrishasena says, nocking an arrow on his bow, “but he and mother kind of fought and now he’s upset.”

“I think he is mad at you for taking lessons from me,” Arjuna says, pressing gently down on his shoulders. “Stop being so tense, or you will miss.”

Vrishasena shrugs his shoulders and tosses his head obligingly, then stands much looser. “Nah,” he says, then releases the arrow. It pierces the swaying mango halfway through and carries it into the bushes. “He has stolen Abhimanyu, so he thinks it’s a fair deal. Besides, he likes having brothers.”

Arjuna would like to contest that, but it is true. For all his follies, Karna is astonishingly adept at micromanaging a hundred and five siblings, plus the two extras, without resorting to moralizing or murder. He’s still not ready to give up their reputation as rivals though, so all he says is, “Good shot.”

Vrishasena smirks at him. His nephew has grown quite a few inches in the months they have been away, so they are mostly eye-to-eye now.

“Just good?” Karna’s son definitely has Karna’s cockiness. “Not ‘excellent’ or ‘magnificent’ or ‘sublime’?”

“No,” Arjuna slaps him behind his head, laughing, “you do not need a bigger ego.”

“It’s not that big, uncle,” Vrishasena protests.

Arjuna laughs again. “If you stop pestering me for compliments, I will help you sneak into the kitchen. The cook is making special sweets today.”

Vrishasena pouts, thinking. “I also get to braid your hair.”

Arjuna will never understand the boy’s obsession with his hair, but who is he to deny his nephew anything, especially when he is getting a braid out of it? So, he shrugs and says, “Sure,” and off they go.

[blue-lotus333]

(Draupadi & krishna art belongs to @pikachustrut , idk abt some others tho)

[yumjum414]

Bed of Arrows

Oh, Father, the greatest of Kurus, The child you left became a shield; A shield of iron, cold and strong, Unbreakable, unbending steel. Yet here I lie, surrounded by blood and rusted fate.

I am nothing but my pride, A river’s son, a kingdom’s guard. All my life, I lived for you, Oh, tell me, Father, did you see me rise?

I rest upon this blood-soaked land, Between the earth and endless sky. A bed of arrows; his gift of war, Yet no softer place have I ever known.

I count the stars, I count their eyes- The faces of my grandsons blur. One by one, they slip like sand, And soon, I shall join them all.

I do not fear death, Amba, But I fear your gaze when I meet you beyond. Will you still burn with rage? Or will we, at last, understand?

Oh, how I have sinned, my gods… My Putravadhu, my Putri Draupadi- The day she fell, my pride was lost. The taste of water turned to ash, The sound of music- only screams.

The throne I upheld, yet never touched, The vows I kept, yet none kept me. A guardian sworn to serve, to stand- Yet shackled fast,was I ever free?

The student of the great Parashurama, My sword rose for kings, for wars, For justice that was never mine. The hands that shaped a nation's fate, Now tremble—not from time, But from the injustices I saw, yet chose to bear.

And now, the boy I used to train, With tear-stained eyes kneels at my side. His hands, once firm, now shake in grief, His heart, always soft, now torn inside.

Oh, Arjuna, my dearest son, You weep for me, but do not mourn. For even kings must meet the dust, And I am just a warrior waiting, for rest.

Oh father mine, my end is near

The sun will turn, the world will change, This age of war will fade with time. But as I go, one question remains- My life was theirs… yet was it ever mine?

Mahabharata – The Fall of the Hero – Bhishma by Giampaolo Tomassetti