The morning sun filtered through intricate windows, casting colorful patterns on the marble floors, of the royal court of Panchal. The court exuded opulence with golden chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, velvet draperies adorning the walls, and intricately carved furniture embellishing the grand hall.

Regal dignitaries, adorned in rich silks and jewels, conversed in hushed tones as they awaited the arrival of King Drupad. As Drupad, the son of Prishata, entered the court, all rose in respect. He was a vision of regality in his lavish attire - a robe embroidered with gold thread, a crown adorned with precious gems, and a scepter in hand. His presence commanded respect and admiration as he made his way to the royal throne, which was adorned with velvet cushions and gilded embellishments.

With measured steps, the king made his way to the throne, behind which loomed a majestic statue of Akhand Maharani, made of gold. Drupad bowed reverently to the statue before taking his seat, his regal presence commanding the attention of all present. With a graceful gesture, he raised his hand, signaling for everyone to be seated.

The court proceedings commenced as ministers presented their reports and suggestions for the kingdom of Panchal. The discussions were lively and filled with strategic planning for the prosperity of the kingdom.

Suddenly a pratihaari entered and announced, "Maharaj, ek Brahman aapse milna chaahta hai."

Uninterestedly, Drupad said, "Bhiksha chahiye hogi. Kaho use ki bahar se lele."

"Woh keh raha hai woh bhiksha lene nahi, apetu adhikaar lene aya hai. Keh raha hai ki woh aapka mitra hai." The pratihaari said.

Drupad frowned, "Mera mitra ? Aane do."

The pratihaari bowed before him, and left the court. She then returned with the Brahman, and a hush fell over the room. The Brahman, with his long matted hair and flowing beard, exuded an aura of wisdom and humility. Despite his attire of torn rags, his eyes sparkled with a radiant light that seemed to illuminate the entire chamber. His weathered face carried a serene expression, hinting at a deep inner joy that transcended his external appearance.

Drupad, recognizing the Brahman immediately from his Gurukul days, feels a sense of unease but maintains his composure, pretending not to acknowledge the familiarity.

"Drupad ? Mujhe pehechana ?" The Brahman asked smilingly, "Mai tumhara mitra, Dron."

Drupad's eyes narrow, his jaw clenches, and his posture stiffens, "Mitra ? O Brahman, kya tumhara gyaan sarthak nahi ? Ya tumhari buddhi fir gayi hai ? Bhala mere jaisa Mahan Raja ek daridra Brahman ka mitra kaise ho sakta hai ?"

Dron, taken aback by the king's coldness, looked bewildered, "Aise kathor vachan kyu keh rahe ho mitra ? Kya tum bhul gaye humare baalpan ke din ? Tum Bharadwaj ashram aate the mere saath padhne aur khelne.... Tum kehte the ki jab tum Raja ban jaaoge, toh tumhara rajya mere bhog karne hetu hoga. Kya tum bhul gaye woh sab ?"

Drupad's anger flares, his pride wounded by the reminder of their past camaraderie, blinded by arrogance he says, "Mitrata tab thi, jab tum aur mai ek hi sthar par the, jab tak tum meri sahayata karne yogya the. Kintu ab mai Panchal ka Maharaj hu, aur tum jagah-jagah bhatakne wale ek Brahman. Vaibhavshali Rajao ki mitrata shriheen aur nirdhan manushyo ke saath nahi hoti. Samaye ke saath mitrata ki bhi mrityu ho jaati hai, iss liye uss mitrata ki baat mat karo, jo varsho pehle samaapt ho chuki hai."

Dron, initially in disbelief, felt a pang of sadness at the loss of their friendship. His eyes betray a deep sense of hurt, as if a bond once cherished has been shattered by the king's haughty demeanor.

"Samaapt ?" Dron's shoulders slump slightly, "Mana varsho tak humari koi baat nahi huyi, kyuki Mai Bhagwaan Parshuram se shashtra-vidya seekh raha tha. Ab jaa ke jab unhone mujhe apne saare shashtra de diye, mai sidha tumse milne aya hu. Isme mitrata kaha samaapt huyi, Drupad ? Mai tumse tumhara rajya nahi maang raha hu... Keval dhan-arjan karne ki iccha hai meri."

The king of Panchal scoffed, "Tum abhi bhi nahi samjhe kya, Brahman ? Nirdhan vyakti dhanwaan ka mitra nahi ho sakta. Murkh vyakti gyaani ka mitra nahi ho sakta. Nirbal vyakti balshaali ka mitra nahi ho sakta. Jo dhan aur kul mei samaan ho, wahi mitrata aur vaivahik sambandh bana sakte hai. Na woh jaha ek vyakti shreehin ho, aur dusra aishwaryashaali."

Drupad's voice boomed in the hall, his tone cutting like a blade. Drona's eyes, once filled with sadness, now sparked with hidden fury. A mix of hurt and indignation danced across his face as Drupad continued to insult him. Each word uttered by the king fed the flames of Drona's anger, his expression shifting from sorrow to a steely resolve.

The son of Prishata said, "Jis prakar rathi usse mitrata nahi karta jiske paas rath nahi, Vedagya uske saath mitrata nahi karta jo Vedo ko na padhe, thik iss prakar Raja uske saath mitrata nahi karta jo Raja nahi. Purani mitrata kisko chahiye ? Jaao Brahman, kisi naye vyakti ko apna mitra banao."

As Drupad's harsh words echoed in the chamber, Drona's features hardened, his jaw clenched in silent defiance. Eyes ablaze with a mix of hurt and fury, he stood tall, refusing to bow down to the king's condescension.

Dron angrily glared at Drupad and the courtiers, a tense silence enveloped the room. Despite some courtiers suppressing their smiles while others looked at one another worriedly, a palpable unease hung in the air.

Dron's eyes shifted towards the statue of Akhand Maharani, "Jis dhan ka, jis vaibhav ka, jis rajya ka tu itna abhimaan kar raha hai Drupad.... Tu bhul gaya ki woh na toh tera hai, na tere pita ka aur na tere kul ka."

Drupad followed Dron's gaze and looked at the idol of Akhand Maharani. The statue, majestic and serene, served as a potent reminder that she was the ultimate ruler, and all earthly kings were mere vessels of her power. The king of Panchal clenched his fists and snapped his gaze back at Dron.

Dron said, "Tune vastavik dhan ko nahi pehechana, Drupad. Brahman hu mai, iss liye tujhse adhik dhanwaan hu. Kyuki mera dhan hai meri Vidya, jisko na toh churaya jaa sakta hai, na nasht kiya jaa sakta, na kisi madhyam se kam kiya jaa sakta hai. Tera dhan aaj hai, kal na ho... Mera dhan toh sanatan hai."

Drupad's jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing in defiance. Dron's gaze bore into Drupad with an intensity that seemed to pierce through the arrogance and pride that surrounded the king. The courtiers shifted uneasily, sensing the escalating confrontation. With an air of finality, Dron turned on his heel and headed towards the exit, his ragged clothes billowing behind him.

Before leaving, Dron paused and turned to look at Drupad one last time, "Yeh mat sochna Drupad, ki mai lautunga nahi. Mitrata ki thi maine, nibhaunga bhi mai. Yadi tere ahankar ko maine meri Vidya ke bal par chur-chur na kardiya, toh mera naam Bharadwaj-putra Dron nahi." He said and made his way out of the royal court, leaving a lingering sense of foreboding in the room.

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A/N

Itihaas gawah hai ki you mustn't mess with the one jo karm se Brahman hai.

Kaliyug mei bhi Dhananand ne aisi hi bhul ki thi, Chanakya ka apmaan karke 🌝

NOW ONE MYTHS TO BE BUSTED -

Some peeps claim, that Parshuram gave all his weapons to Karn. But it is clearly written than Parshuram gave all his weapons to Dronacharya.

Reference -