The war has begun and we are offered to wear a particular dress during it. There is warmness in the palace, everyone is hustling, men are shouting, kids are afraid. There is a abnormal chaos in the surrounding. We women are getting ready for our turn. We are not taught to wait for the war to end instead we were given training. Our faces may get hurt, cuts, painful knife of scars or worst smashed but we are ready. This was was uninvited. It’s a family war, a sudden attack and since we know each other, we are aware of our weaknesses. My father is fighting for no reason, he doesn’t want to fight. He doesn’t want to surrender either. It’s a Period of great pleasure. I am thinking nothing, I am just looking into the mirror and believing that with the dawn my uncles would understand their mistake and end all this disturbance. It’s a duty of a khatriya to fight, even if he doesn’t want it, it’s the duty and one must follow his or her duty provided for the life being. I am finally making a move, to kill my relatives. My hands are shaking but my brother holds it, the Mahabharata repeats, it does everyday and ANYTHING that we see is a part of it.

I am being given knowledge to fight for the right, the war was not my choice but to end it is. I choose to fight till I understand why wars are needed, why it is necessary to fight for mutual understanding and it’s not wrong, not always.

I am happy that this war came, I am given an opportunity to prove my feminine being or I don’t see the real picture of the scene?

Have I asked for a troublemaker?

I am walking through the aisle and corridors, lamps and warmness still follows in cold winter evening, a lot is going in front of my eyes, my father fighting, my brother entering, my siblings and uncles, so much at once.

I smile at them, it’s a due course in time that just yesterday I remember was my birthday and everyone was looking at me in the same way, I was stepping down through the stairs and they all stopped for a moment. I felt happy, at least for a moment they have sensed the message of love I was trying to convey.

I take off my sword without believing in the instant reaction and it all begins again, what if I had not done so.

One of my eldest cousins comes near me and attacks, what should I do? Pretend to protect myself and die or attack?

My father was injured by then, physically and mentally, I am sure he must have lost his connections with spirituality, but that’s alright I know things will be alright all over again.

I attacked her before she could kill me, I feel no guilt of doing so, her mother’s face came to me while she was Dubling in flood of blood, I killed another and by the time I and my brother reached to my father half of the family was dead. I felt an urge to wake up from this nightmare but disheartened to know that it was a reality and no one was to blame for this. My father threw his swords and walked passed the stairs, I looked at my brother who was about to kill our uncle, I wish I could stop him but a Khatriya must fight.

I was being attacked and hurt, it was either I will kill and survive or I will die, I wasn’t thinking much, I was sure I will have to cry in their memories later but for then I was to think nothing and act. Slashes of bodies and crying mourns, we won but with whom should we celebrate it, how will we stand those little new norms, ego and envy drew us apart, our happiness was attacked for once.

It took me days to digest and adjust to this new change. We left the palace and came to normal life. We changed our names and stayed in forest. We met great souls and my father was a king among them.

Only few knew our real existence.

Life went on and we found that it wasn’t for the war but for that imaginary thought which created this. Cleaning is so necessary even if that seems to be incoherent and invaluable at first but once taken out of our songs the rhythm of life adjusts.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s