#shrutasen

@sundaralekhan Day 2: Next Gen

Shrutasena, Ugrasena and Bheemasena sit down as their father Janmejaya tells them a story.

Thirteen years ago, Krishna had taken Dhrishtadyumna and Shikhandi aside and told them in no uncertain terms that they would not be taking out their anger of the Pandavas on their sons. Thirteen years later, Shikhandi takes them aside and looks them in the eye, telling them with pride, and a hint of warning that their boys have changed and grown into men. Nakul knows why his tone holds warning, even if the others may not get it. He gets the message loud and clear.

They have changed, and you are not to fault them for that.

So he doesn't.

He just observes.

He observes Draupadi's brothers run into the room, Yudhamanyu and Uttamaujas running to her and each of them grabbing one of her hands and pulling her ahead to join the rest of them. They're twins, just like him. She's a twin, just like them. Just like half of Panchal's sons. Kumara and Panchalya tackle her in a bear hug, with Prince Satyajit shouting 'careful, careful' in the background. A rare exclamation of joy, rarer in these years, slips out of her mouth when she sees a laughing Shikhandi and a softly smiling Dhrishtadyumna. She shakes off her younger brothers and runs to them. After all, they are her favourites.

With her husbands, she cannot afford to have favourites. With them, she cannot be free. She is always their wife, their queen, and although she gets love in both Panchal and Indraprastha, she gets freedom only with her brothers. It reminds him of himself, a memory flitting across his mind of rambunctious young boys, one getting him in a headlock, another trying to pull it apart, one leaning tiredly against the wall and yet another pulling him to join his brothers. Call him soft-hearted, but his heart always clenches when she laughs freely, like she hasn't done for so long, and that can only be done with her brothers.

But then, from behind them, her sons show up. He observes Kalyani tear up, hands on her mouth, and how Prativindhya is quick to put an arm around her and pull her close and wipe her tears. He towers over her now. He'd always wondered how his second-eldest nephew was doing. A part of him had died after that day, and Nakul feared it wasn't coming back anytime soon. He'd always been close to his mother. Sutasoma and Shrutakarma, he notes, are probably crying more than her, and his heart does a little flip-flop. Shatanik is stone-faced, thoughts flitting through his mind and flickering in his eyes, but his mouth doesn't betray any of it. He looks calm, and absently, Nakul murmurs, 'you've changed, duckling,' and promises himself never to say that out loud. The children are painfully aware of that fact, they don't need to be told. But when she hugs the four of them, Shatanik looks up, caught in the moment as if a deer in the headlights, and then hugs all of them, shifting them and almost picking them up with the force of his hug. Nakul shakes his head in fond exasperation. He had never been good at showing people he loved them. And being trained by the Parshatas would have exacerbated that. But it was alright, he knew how to read emotions from the slightest curl of a fist, the minutest furrow of eyebrows, and the tiniest twitch of an eye.

He observes Prativindhya, turned away from his father, his face painted with slight disgust and his hands crossed. He observes how Sutasoma is quick to swallow, unsuccessful at hiding the lump in his throat, his eyes murky with the film of tears on them. He sees Bheem look at him for only a moment before nearly crushing his son in a hug, picking him up like he was feather-light and asking him about his health and his food and what he'd been up to. He sees Shrutasen stand stiffly as Sahadev looks at him, really looks at him, both of them so stiff and awkward it makes him want to tease his brother and push them closer for a hug. But he knows Shrutasen was barely eleven when they left, and does not know how to interact with a man he scarcely remembers. He also has more important things to do, namely, seeing his own son.

This time around, Shatanik observes him. He's rough around the edges, and his arms on his father's and he is intently looking at him, his eyes narrow and searching. "I've missed you kid," he says, gruffly. He does not call the man in front of him duckling. He does not feel he would like that. Shatanik nods. "Same," he whispers.

But Shatanik's eyes keep darting across the room, and he turns to look. The sight makes a deep, deep discomfort buried within him resurface, and he rolls his eyes at how predictable his brother is being. Shrutakarma is ecstatic to see his father. After all, Yudhamanyu must have told him a lot of stories.

But Arjun has walked right past him to see Subhadra and Abhimanyu. Arjun probably doesn't even realize what he has done in his excitement. But Shrutakarma walks off to stand in a corner, downcast. The action had been done, whether voluntarily or involuntarily, and Shrutakarma cannot see intentions. He can only see effects. But despite all that had happened, Nakul smiles. He remembers the kid.

He remembers a five year old, running through the stables with Shatanik and the stablehands running behind him and stopping only when he came to the strange horses Krishna had given him. He remembers Shatanik listening to him patiently as he rattled off about each of them, his face alight with joy and excitement. Nakul looked at the two of them, how their eyes seemed to search for each other in a crowded room and deduced that he had continued being loyal to Shatanik, and Shatanik, in turn had morphed his patience into a fiery protectiveness.

Shatanik guides him over to his youngest nephew and Nakul just smiles and opens his arms. He bites back a gasp at how quickly Shrutakarma comes to him and hugs the poor boy back. Shatanik rests a hand on his brother's back, and a thin smile splits his face. Nakul drags him into the hug, pressing his head Shatanik's neck, taking a deep breath and smiling to himself. Vindhya and Shatanik are taller than his brother and him respectively. Shatanik awkwardly pats his shoulder.

Shatanik needs time, he senses. To come to terms that this is real. There is a lot going on behind that large forehead, and it needs to settle before his son comes to him.

And Shikhandi, of course, loves all his nephews equally but has a soft spot for his bright and curious Shrutasen.

Shrutasen: Really?