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Mahishmati's royal dining hall glowed under a canopy of stars, its marble floors reflecting the flicker of a thousand lamps. The Pratap family gathered around a table laden with golden plates of saffron rice, buttery naan, and shimmering kheer.
Rudra Pratap sat at the head, his saffron robes catching the light, Sumeru, his white tiger, lounging at his feet with a lazy yawn. The Hastinapur invitation lay open, its elegant script heralding the Kalapradarshan, a grand showcase of the Kuru princes' prowess.
Rudra's cosmic eyes glinted, sensing Niyati's gentle stirrings, his heart eager to witness his brothers' glory.
"Putra, you're staring at that letter like it's a divine prophecy,"
Vijay Raj Pratap, the Silver Lion, teased, his voice warm and resonant. His Sahastra-Bhaar axe rested nearby, his silver hair glowing like moonlight.
"What's brewing in that head of yours?"
Rudra grinned, leaning back. "Dada, it's more than a letter—it's Hastinapur's future taking shape. The Kuru princes are ready to shine, and I need to be there but not as a King."
Ishita, the Frost Queen, paused mid-bite. "Bhaiya, what's that mean? You planning to sneak in dressed as a cowherd?"
Her braid swung as she smirked, dodging Rudra's playful glare.
Karna, the Surya Veer, chuckled, his golden armor catching the lamplight. "Let Maharaj have his mischief, Ishita. But who's representing Mahishmati officially?"
"Dada will," Rudra said, nodding to Vijay Raj. "You're Bhishma's guru-bhai, the Silver Lion. Hastinapur will expect you. But me, Karna, Ishita, and Eklavya?"
He glanced at Eklavya, leaning quietly against a pillar, his bow at his side.
"We'll go in disguise, take different routes. I want to see my brothers as a commoner, feel their world."
Bela, Rudra's mother, clasped her hands, her sunrise-moonlight saree shimmering. "Beta, why this secrecy? You're Mahishmati's pride."
"Maa, it's not secrecy—it's freedom," Rudra said softly, his eyes warm. "Just for a day, I want to walk among people without a crown. Plus, it'll be fun."
Suresh Pratap, the Berserk War God, roared with laughter, his mace Gambudh humming faintly. "Fun, huh? My son, sneaking around like a bandit. I love it!"
Ishita rolled her eyes. "Fine, Bhaiya, but if you get caught charming some Hastinapur girl, don't cry when I freeze your feet!"The hall erupted in laughter,
Rudra's heart light. "Deal, Ishu. Dada, you'll hold court in Hastinapur. We'll meet you there."
Vijay Raj nodded, his eyes twinkling. "It won't be thrilled to see Bhishma, but for you, putra, I'll face his sour face."
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In Dwarika, the ocean's melody wove through golden streets as Krishna, the divine enchanter, read Hastinapur's invitation, his flute resting beside him.
His dark eyes danced with mischief as Subhadra entered, her braid half-done, her face curious."Bhai, what's that grin about?" she asked, catching his sparkle "Another prank in the works?"
Krishna twirled the letter, his voice teasing. "Hastinapur's calling, behna. The Kalapradarshan—a stage for the Kuru princes to dazzle. I'm going, and guess who's invited? Mahishmati."
Subhadra's cheeks flushed, her fingers pausing. "Mahishmati? You mean… Rudra bhaiya might be there?"
Krishna's grin widened. "Oho, behna, your heart's skipping like a deer! Admit it—you're dying to see the Dharma King."
"Bhaii!"
Subhadra swatted him, her blush deepening. "I just… admire him. His ideals, his female warriors—it's inspiring!"
"Sure, sure," Krishna teased, picking up his flute. "Inspiring. Pack your bags, Subhadra. We're off to Hastinapur, and I'll get you a front-row seat to 'admire' Rudra bhaiya."
Subhadra huffed, but her smile betrayed her excitement. The journey was set, her heart fluttering with thoughts of Rudra.
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Rudra set out under a crescent moon, his royal robes swapped for a young shilpkaar's dusty kurta, his Supreme Commander Emblem hidden. Sumeru padded beside him, his presence subdued to avoid attention.
Karna, Ishita, and Eklavya took separate routes, their disguises equally humble. The forest road to Hastinapur hummed with crickets and the scent of pine.
As "Shiva," a simple craftsman, Rudra felt unburdened, his heart eager for adventure.As dusk painted the sky orange, a commotion pierced the forest's calm.
Rudra's instincts flared. He crept closer, Sumeru's ears twitching, and saw a merchant cart surrounded by seven bandits, their blades glinting with malice. The cart's guards lay unconscious, and a lone girl stood defiant, wielding a stick against the leering men.
Her cherry-red face glowed with ethereal beauty, her mrignaini eyes blazing with fearless courage. A strange radiance seemed to emanate from her, a fire that struck Rudra like a thunderbolt.
For the first time, his heartbeat raced, not from battle, but from her. 'Who is she?' he thought, his chest tight. Her courage, her spirit—it stirred something he couldn't name, a pull deeper than reason.
The bandits' vile laughter snapped him back—she was outnumbered, her strikes brave but faltering. He couldn't let her fall.
"Stop!"
Rudra shouted, stepping forward as Shiva, gripping a fallen branch. The bandits turned, sneering at the "shilpkaar" in tattered clothes.
"Look, a hero!" one mocked, lunging with a dagger. Rudra dodged, his movements deliberately clumsy to maintain his disguise, striking with calculated restraint.
He took hits, his kurta tearing, blood trickling, but each blow was precise, disarming and bruising. As the bandits fled, he subtly laced their steps with a trace of odourless poison, ensuring they'd collapse far away.
Panting, he turned to the girl, who stood gripping her stick, eyes wide but unafraid.
"You… you saved us," she said, her voice a melody, soft yet strong. Up close, her beauty was breathtaking—her curls framing a face that seemed kissed by the gods, her eyes a universe of courage. Rudra's heart skipped again.
"I'm… Shiva," he said, catching his breath, nearly slipping his name. "A shilpkaar headed to Hastinapur. You?"
She smiled, brushing a curl from her face. "Anupriya, daughter of Merchant Devansh. We're going to Hastinapur for trade, but I insisted on seeing the Kalapradarshan." Her eyes sparkled with excitement.
Devansh, a kindly man with a weathered face, rushed over with his wife. "Young man, you risked your life for us!"
Devansh said, tears in his eyes.
Anupriya knelt beside Rudra, gently dabbing his cuts with a cloth, her touch sending a jolt through him."You're hurt," she said, her voice soft but firm. "Why'd you jump in like that?"
Rudra shrugged, flustered. "Couldn't let those dogs hurt you
… anyone." Her smile widened, and he cursed his fumbling tongue.
Joining their cart, Rudra found himself drawn to Anupriya's laughter, her tales of dreaming to be a warrior, her fierce spirit. They chatted through the journey—about Hastinapur's markets, her love for jalebis, his "shilpkaar" craft.
Her voice was a song, her beauty a mystery he couldn't unravel. He'd seen countless women, even his divine Mother Parvati, but Anupriya's fire felt like Niyati weaving their paths together.
He wanted to know her, to be Shiva, if only for a while. Hastinapur's streets buzzed with anticipation, its golden spires draped in marigolds, banners fluttering in the breeze. The Kalapradarshan loomed, but for now, Anupriya and Rudra wandered the city, her father busy with trade.
They shared a plate of jalebis by a bustling stall, her laughter ringing as syrup dripped from her fingers.
"You eat like a child, Shiva!" she teased, wiping her hands. "What kind of shilpkaar are you?"
"The kind who saves damsels from bandits," Rudra shot back, grinning. "And don't call me clumsy—I'm an artist!"
Anupriya rolled her eyes, her smile warm. "Artist, huh? We'll see if you survive the Kalapradarshan crowd tomorrow."
As they approached the arena's outer gates, guests arrived—nobles, warriors, and royals. Anupriya's eyes lit up, scanning the crowd with excitement.
Rudra felt a twinge of jealousy, a new and confusing ache. "What's got you so worked up?" he asked, his tone playful but sour "Waiting for some prince to sweep you off your feet?"
Anupriya laughed, nudging him. "No prince, Shiva! I'm dying to see Aryavart's first female Maharathi—the Frost Queen of Mahishmati. I've heard she's fierce, unstoppable!"
Rudra's heart eased, a grin spreading. Ishita, huh? But when Vijay Raj arrived, representing Mahishmati, Anupriya's face fell. "Just the Silver Lion? I hoped… Ishita would come."
Rudra seized the chance to tease, leaning closer. "Female warrior? What's so special? Anyone can swing a sword."
Anupriya's eyes flashed, her voice sharp. "What, Shiva? You think women shouldn't wield weapons? That we're only good for cooking and cleaning?"
Rudra's grin vanished, his cheeks burning. "N-no, that's not what I meant!" he stammered, flustered. "I meant it's… normal. Like Maa Parvati—she's Annapurna and Durga, right? Every woman can run a home and protect it. Society just doesn't give them the chance."
Anupriya's glare softened, her lips twitching into a smile. "Hmph. You're not as backward as I thought, Shiva. But you've got a lot to learn about talking to girls."
Rudra's face reddened, his inner voice scolding, 'O great Maharishi Rudra, you're hopeless with women!' His modern-world mindset—shaped by his previous life—had spilled out, but he hadn't expected it to touch her.
Unbeknownst to him, his words had struck a chord, her heart warming to this clumsy "shilpkaar" who saw women as equals. Her eyes lingered on him, a spark of something new flickering within.
Nearby, Ishita, Karna, and Eklavya, disguised as commoners, watched from a distance, barely containing their laughter. "Bhaiya's smitten," Ishita whispered, her eyes dancing. "Look at him tripping over his words!"
Karna grinned. "Maharaj, tongue-tied by a girl? This is a first."
Eklavya smirked. "She's got fire. No wonder he's lost."
Vijay Raj, in the royal entourage, exchanged a stiff bow with Bhishma, their guru-bhai bond strained but civil.
Krishna and Subhadra arrived, Krishna's eyes catching Rudra in the crowd, his disguise fooling none but the unaware.
"Behna, look—your Rudra bhaiya's playing shilpkaar and failing at romance," Krishna teased, his voice light.
Subhadra's eyes found Rudra, her heart skipping as she saw him with Anupriya, their laughter intimate, her hand brushing his arm. A strange pang gripped her—a crisis, as if something precious was slipping away.
"Bhai, they are..… just talking," she said, her voice faltering.
Krishna's knowing smile softened, sensing her turmoil.
"Just talking, behna? Or is your heart whispering something else?" He nudged her, but his eyes held a gentle understanding.
Rudra, catching Krishna's gaze, felt a flush of embarrassment.
"Shiva, you're blushing!" Anupriya teased, poking his arm. "What, scared of the Kalapradarshan?"
"N-no!" Rudra stammered, his heart racing under her gaze. "Just… thinking about… jalebis."
Anupriya laughed, her eyes warm. "You're hopeless, Shiva. But you're brave, so I'll keep you around."
As the city glowed under the stars, Rudra felt Niyati's pull. Anupriya's fire, her dreams, her laughter—it was no chance meeting.
The Mahabharat loomed, but in her eyes, he saw a spark that could light a new path.
For now, he was Shiva, her clumsy savior, but Niyati whispered their story was just beginning.
Subhadra, watching from afar, clutched her dupatta, her heart heavy with a quiet ache, Krishna's teasing words echoing in her mind.