Happy Birthday Sindhuxsuta feel free to consider this update as a birthday gift :)

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The temple was a place where the divine chakras synchronized and steadily resonated with the goodness of the world. And Dhriti, herself being the very core essence of the entire universe, found tranquility over her unknown yearnings only near the ethereal aureola of her cosmic compeer - Parvati.

A few years ago, the skilled nomads and tribes of the south that had settled near the provinces of Kolar, had ingeniously modeled an Archa Vigraha of Maa Durga to commemorate the holy day of Durgashtami resulting into the youngest of Kunti, finding her own little attachment towards it. Even in the forest of the darkest shadows and sweltering heat, the foothills of Shatashringa had begun to feel home, no longer just any ecosystem of streams, woodlands, animals and some fruits. Like an agile hummingbird fluttering in a rose bush, the only daughter of Pandu wondered and wandered around the mandira; the life-giving sunlight that seeped through the cracks of the canopy leaflets bringing out the most vivid hues of her devotion.

"Although the eclipses have their own effects on humans, pitashree had assured me that yesterday's Lunar Eclipse will end before the next morning's daybreak. O Devi Maa," An unverbalistic consternation flashed over Dhriti's face while trying to converse with the murti in front of her, "Then why is there a lingering feeling of fraught still swamping in the corners of my heart? I shouldn't have stepped out of the hut last night!" The chariot of Chanchala's mind constantly steered towards unsettling intuitions, on whose reins, her nine-year-old mind couldn't possibly grab a hold on.

"By now, the whole Aryavarta has come to know that Kunti is searching for her daughter," Kunti had set her foot in the quiet altar, a mixed guise of annoyance and relief covering her face at the sight of Dhriti circling around the vigraha, "How many times am I supposed to call your name, did you not hear me?" she continued, twisting Dhriti's ear with one hand while dissatisfyingly fastening her pallu with the other.

A trail of silly emotions quickly expressed themselves on Dhriti's little face, "Must you insist on modifying my ear, Mata? I listen to you just fine, don't I?" she scrunched her nose further, conclusively releasing herself from the grip Kunti was purposely holding onto.

"Now is not the time to determine who is my most obedient issue. Raj Mata Satyavati awaits to meet her great grandchildren, and you," The mother squinted her eyes, pointing her slender finger accusingly at the Kuru princess, "You appear to be the only one missing!"

"Wha-" Dhriti's orbs widened in alertness, the supple coccineous lips of the young girl parting at the very thought of abandoning her little philosophical quest right in the middle. "No, no Mata! I'm not going to step outside the mandir until and unless Devi Maa Parvati answers my question." She huffed, crossing her little arms against her chest while taking a defensive stance to show the displeasure over things not really going her way.

Kunti exhaled an amusing chortle at the former's response. "Oh Dhriti...apart from being your Devi Maa, Devi Parvati is equally the Goddess of this shrishti and every single creation that it encompasses. Always remember that it is the supreme Gods and Goddesses who control our marionettes, not the other way around. Although omniscient, you shouldn't demand her to be present for you at every step. Devi will answer when things are fully aligned." She cooed, cupping her daughter's sulked face in her hands with a plenty of assurance collecting in the reflection of her redamant eyes, to which Dhriti, although halfheartedly, seemed to agree.

Silence triumphed between the two souls that strode out of the mandira, bare soled upon the alluvial soil of the hilly region. It was a silence that, instead of tranquility, pertained to the quandary of Dhriti - who, like the ubiquitous one she was, wanted to melt in the solace of the temple and adhere to her ardency towards Kunti, all at the same time.

Kunti frowned noticing the absence of Dhriti on her side. Glowering at how hard it is to impel her eight year old, she eased up the dominance that covered her face and lowered her stance down to the latter's height. "Time does not bow to anyone, but her. She will reciprocate your prayers on her will, at a legitimate time. But for now," Kunti forwarded her palm, waiting for Dhriti to be reassured by her words and entwine her little hand with her mother's slender fingers, "let's do what we're supposed to."

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"Do what you're supposed to instead of fending away from it!" Satyavati spattered at the Raj Vaidya and a few soldiers surrounding a comatose Pandu. Fear and incertitude flickering evidently on everyone's wilted faces expect for that of Madri. The youngest wife of Pandu quavered in trepidation; the terror of her own heedlessness dismantling her sanity at an alarming rate.

"Forgive me, Raj Mata Satyavati, but nothing more can be done now," The Raj Vaidya shuddered in return, refusing to apply the kalka and extracts that he had pounded in his mortar. He helplessly put aside all his ingredients and endeavours with a baited breath, not really daring to meet Satyavati's earsplitting gaze at his presumptuousness.

Nakul and Sahadev started at him in horror. 'Healers are godsent creatures that sustain lives. They are like a bridge between the lord's miracle and a being's normalcy,' their father had told them and the siblings had lived by that truth quite devotedly, until now. Until now, when they witnessed the cowardice of a man clouding and cloaking the piousness of a curer.

"Nothing more?" The elder Ashwini Kumara questioned in disbelief, "You haven't even done the bare minimum. You just gave up without trying!" His venomous tone directed at the former. The vaidya had everything under his hand. Everything that would be enough to keep his father alive, to lessen his pain and be a portent miracle to the family but he had already chose to let his pusillanimity play the cards.

"Mother nature cannot be challenged. Samrat Pandu is cursed and the curse shall prevail against our resistance." The Raj Vaidya answered in his defence with on unreadable expression lasting on his face.

"Mother Nature also doesn't have the heart to snatch away the happiness and security of her own children. This is nothing but a mere excuse!" Kunti's frazzled voice got louder with every word as she hastily covered the distance towards the hut, with Dhriti closely following her. Expressions of knowing and perplexion covering their respective visages.

The daylight of the surrounding now felt like an unending abyss to darling daughter of KuntiBhoja. "Madri?" She hissed virulently at her co-wife, not quite able to land a finger on whether she felt duped or enraged at the latter.

"Jiji..." Madri's anguished voice finally croaked out of her as she finally allowed her held back tears to rapidly cascade down her pale face. "Anarth ho gaya, Jiji."

The tint previously glistening upon Kunti's face had vanished away like the twilight fading into the darkness. Indeed, she had picked up on Madri's allusion to Pandu's curse. While the rest of them bore the doleful expressions of anxiety and guilt, visages of irascibility and betrayal seized opportunities to disclose themselves off on the face of Kunti. Her eyes silently hissed at Madri yet again. How could she? How could she, in all her senses, let the curse work in its full power despite knowing how it would pull our entire little family into the swamps of forlornity.

"Dh-dhriti..." The bamboozled exchange of the two wives didn't last for long when Pandu tried gasping his daughter's name.

"Pitashree..." The princess scurried towards her father, worriedly kneeling down near his benumbed body. Tears threatened to sharply fall down her face as she tried to observe the circumstances through her now obscure vision.

"Dhriti? Wh-what about Dhriti, Arya?" Kunti stooped low on his other side, the fear and lamentation of knowing what's coming next, further weakening her. "Mata!" Her sons darted in her direction to her aid, a futile attempt of already distressed children in holding on close to their agonized mothers.

Pandu throatily continued uttering Dhriti's name only to end up in a war with his stuttering soul, which wouldn't let him complete his words even for once. But that didn't seem to stop him. Yesterday, he was determined to reveal the fortunate truth of Dhriti to his family. There was an anticipation in her name. But today, as he lay on his supposed forthcoming deathbed, the same name held more sangfroidity than anything else. There was a certain calm in those two syllables of Dhriti's name, which soothed his blazing soul that would soon meet the agnichita.

"Dhriti... Shri-" Withal, Pandu still continued, trying to pour the thing that had overjoyed him since th last night, out of his heart. He was aware of what's coming next. He could sense it from every corner of his half paralyzed body that his kaal was about to complete a full circle and at that very juncture, he did not expect anything in return to all his failed attempts. He would slowly point at Dhriti's feet, the lotus feet that had already liberated him and then take turns to shift his gaze back at Kunti, Vidura and Satyavati; hoping that amidst of all the somber, one of them would somehow catch a hint about it. But they didn't. Their karmas were too entangled within themselves to even recognise their true selves, let alone the Mother of the Universe.

Gradually, Pandu felt the other half of his body racing towards incapacitation. The shocks, the creeping feeling, the pain, weakenings and slurred speeches, his family that surrounded him and the almighty time itself; all seemed to fall into the ravine of numbness. As the total paralysis started progressing from the bottom of his feet and upward, he could feel another luminance rising with it. The sheen of the purportedly forming figurine was impaling to his eyes but nonetheless, worth gaping at. Before the revered Kuru Samrat could've mentally put his finger on it, the effigy revealed it's reality.

It was his beloved daughter in her full glory.
It was Akhanda Brahmanda Nayaki Shri Mahalakshmi fondly smiling down at him, as if she herself had come to hold his hand and take him to her abode.

【 Imagine her as Shri Mahalakshmi 】

"Devi Lakshmi!" Pandu wailed with all the power left in his body to greet the supreme goddess gracing in front of him. But his reality was already altered. The paralysis had  touched the every last nerve of his body to finally put them into a forever slumber. His words, his movements and his darting gaze only visible to Shri Mahalakshmi.

"Ambalika Putra, Kuru Samrat Pandu..." The Vaikuntha Samragyi began, "It is my good fortune that I have received a noble, righteous scholar and a brave man as my father in this incarnation of mine. Even for such a short time and without knowing the truth behind my birth, you never held back and offered all your love, compassion, values and morals to me. Dhriti would forever be thankful and indebted for everything that you moulded her into."

"Devi..." Discreet and inconspicuous tears left Pandu's eyelids while he tried to weave and form sentences in response.

"Don't restrain your reality, Pitashree. Your kaal and your karmas are completed." She smiled in return, raising one of her hand high. "Om Shanti." Her voice reverberated, making Pandu crack a faint smile on his lips, slowly closing his eyes in full surrender.

Arya, Pitashree, Bhrata, Samrat and Pandu; the lush trees of Shatashringa heard every name of the son of Ambalika being called, whimpered, lamented and wailed at as his spirit ultimately left the land of humans, transversing to a higher and a better world.

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The seven stages of grief personified themselves in the form of the six siblings and a mentally languorous Vidura, all of them riveting their tearless eyes at the mighty flames whose ashes would bear a blindsiding blot on their hearts for the rest of their lives.

SHOCK. That is what Sahadeva's expressionless visage bore. His eyes bled with the salt of his soul coursed down his still face. With more tears cascading down like a river escaping from a dam, his vision kept getting blurry. And he was glad it did, for he secured no strength and no more tears left to weep at the horrendous sight of the burning corpses of his parents.

ANGER. Lack of tears, more than being a sign of moving on, often portrayed the developing shock that would lag the comprehension of the mind. Nakul, however, didn't fit into either of those circumstances for he was close to become hypoesthesic. He couldn't sense anything but the smoldering inferno of anger from within. Anger towards the fate that changed its colour like a coward chameleon. At that Raja Vaidya who raised his hands in helplessness even without trying, angry at his mother for whom the erroneous dignity mattered more than her shattered children who can now, only dream of completing the missing puzzles of their remnant lives.

Moreover, Nakul was enraged, galled and apoplectic with himself for taking his source of happiness, whose ashes would soon merge into the waters of Ganga, for granted. "But not anymore," he repeated to himself. "Not anymore..." moving wrapping his arms around the waist of his elder sister in a backing solace. Literally and metaphorically, he didn't want to let go of the amiable warmth, the assurance and an unexplained empathy that Dhriti constantly offered. And this time, even without asking for it.

"It is very revolting to me that Maa and Pitashree told us to always stay together and they themselves failed to live up to their very own vision." Nakul began, his voice trembling after every word. The rage at the situation was like a bodyguard of his melancholy. Nakul didn't want his sadness to grow from his spine and dangle over his head like some unwreckable weed. He wanted to heal. Heal like the way he healed those little migratory birds and wetland cormorants during the chilly winters. And perhaps Dhriti was his only lookout, to alleviate him from the cold gloom of his own life.

The only sister of the five, languidly shifted her numb gaze from nothingness to that of her brother. He didn't have to pour out any more of his flickering sentiments for Dhriti to know that his eyes had no trace of a single tear; just fury and fear. "Pitashree and Mata Madri haven't gone anywhere," She monotonously mumbled. Her anguish didn't stop herself from mindlessly stroking her brother's head for she knew she was his anchor in the sea whose only constant was a storm, and she didn't want to change that stance. "They're here. Very much here, just teaching us how to live a life without them, because one day we have to." She continued, failing to keep on the mask of her resilience as the tears of her weeping soul materialized like a deluge of rain.

Afar stood Satyavati. Feeling as if she was caught into a prison with no walls. Prison for her naive avidity and avarice that was imperceptibly strengthening the roots of ultimate doom. And all she could now do, was to wrack her body into an onslaught of more sobs while hearing the dirgeful conversation between the two half-siblings - one agonized by anger and the other in denial.

DENIAL. The daughter of the ocean hadn't essentially seen what an ocean looks like in her mortal incarnation, but the rising dissent over losing her parents - especially her father, in whose embrace she felt like a butterfly within a cocoon - made her cognize what an ocean would feel like. Dark and capricious, much like her life right now. The tides of denial resembled the ocean waves in their very feelings. How can her dearest father become just a part of her most cherished memories in a matter of few hours? Last night while she snuggled closer in her father's embrace, listening and dozing off to the merry tales he narrated; the waves of life, as if, had receded to showcase the beautiful sand with the pretty seashells. Now, though? The tide had come and swallowed all of that beauty up and dragged the ensured happiness, her father, her mother, moreover a part of Dhriti herself, all away from her.

BARGAINING. As the wind blew, adding to the raging fire in which his father and stepmother were enveloped, Arjun wished to have the pliancy of it. To leave and come as it pleased, and to wrap himself around the shoulders of his family to reassure them that everything could be alright just as fast as it all went downhill.
Arjun wished, impossibly in that matter, to beg all the gods and goddesses, beg to time itself. Would they listen to the entreaties of a hopelessly hopeful child? Afterall, he didn't want to deplore and rive off the embossed pages of their fates. All he wished for was to turn back time, tell the omnipotent Kāla to adjourn his duties for a trice so that the agoged family could hear Pandu for one last time. So that Pandu himself could've rested in peace knowing that his last words were heard of and his family won't be sitting on a fence for the rest of their lives.

"Dh-dhriti..."

"Dhriti... Shri-"

Pandu's last words reverberated in Arjun's head like an infinite echo. Dhriti. His sister. Pandu's favorite issue. A blessing of the creator himself. What would Pandu possibly had to tell about her while breathing his last? The engima behind his father's last words made him look like a lone willow in a windstorm. Arjun has no idea. Nor did anyone else in that matter, but no one decided to dig deep into it for ultimately the dead man had a lasting smile on his face. For once he keeked at Dhriti, swollen red irises being the first thing he noticed about her.

'Why are you snivelling, little sister?' His forehead creased in a concerning question mark. If anything, he wanted Dhriti to be at peace knowing that their beloved father had breathed his last while sporting an angelic smile on his face, uttering the name of his daughter as if he had seen everything he had ever wanted to; all at once, in one place.

'I hope the same smile stays with you even in your afterlife, Pitashree..."

Arjun trailed, looking up at the skies, dejectedly pondering that it would not have hurt to lose his father if Arjun had never been born at all. Could he bargain with the gods to give his Mata Madri back, at least? She used to claim that children were never too old to rest their heads in her lap every single day, not realising that the vicious time would rob her of the ability to witness her grown children doing just that.

As prideful as the son of Indra can be, this time, Arjun was ready to kneel before the mightiest of the powers to bring back his 'unfairly' deceased parents and eradicate his family's ploding depression.

DEPRESSION. Bheem's woebegone eyes glinted the flares of abjection under the obdurate rays of the mighty sun. Even the life-giving source of light couldn't possibly return back the lost luminance in his life. The mightest man of the age felt the forces of despondency pressing down on him as he inundated in a quick sand full of despair and depression. Against all his stifles, Bheem had let the warm, salty tears brim to the maximum around his swollen eyelids. With sight, he was not alone. He had his siblings, equally forlorn and anguished at the wilted catastrophe; and a mother who was mourning for the bereft lacuna of her now obscure fate, but on the inside, you ask? On the inside, he was sitting alone on a cimmerian hill top, watching over the mesmeric city full of lights.

There was one thing that Bheem placed above his endearment for food, and that was his family. The boy who had locked his big, soft heart in the cage of a tough man would walk and roll miles for his family but alas! Depression lead the best of men into bigger doldrums when veritably, the only distance he had to cover was the one from his woes to that of the path of acceptance.

ACCEPTANCE. Standing a little too distant from his siblings, misery was written all over Yudhishthir's face. A flood of tears was brimming his weak eyelids but he dared not to blink and let them triumph over his crippled self control. The tall flares of agni didn't bother him anymore. Instead, the closer he stood towards them, the more they felt like one last hug from his now deceased parents whose bodies would turn into lackluster ashes and souls would enroute towards their journey of afterlife and watch whom they left behind, in a mere retrospect.

RETROSPECTION. Vidura positioned himself in a way his dismal yet doting eyes could build a web of love and trust around his grief-stricken and heartsick niece and nephews. The time was dark and fallible but given to Vidura's vision, he could and had already started seeing past the mental destruction that Pandu and Madri's death had created. Kunti and the kids, more than a mere responsibility to him, were like the beacon of fairness for the Kurus. He eyes mindfully turned to catch a glimpse of Ved Vyasa, who, without making his presence known, was standing close to his mother. The Maharishi nodded at the Mahamantri and the latter seemed to have taken a cue of whatever the message was.

"Kids," He began earnestly, gathering the attention of the six siblings to him. "I feel satisfied witnessing your maturity, faith, respect and affection for each other. Do not let go of this unity and harmony ever. When a lamb seperates from its herd, it is only bound to meet it mournful end at the foxs' mouth. It can never reunite with its own herd ever again. The one who makes differences between his own family loses every joy only to never get anything in return, my dears." He explained, wanting to talk them through the oddity of the dolefulness.

"My dear children, your patience and tolerance is incredible. But at times of such adversities and grief, don't hold back from letting your tears down." The manifestation of Yamraja continued, opening in arms wide to welcome the forlorned kids.

Yudhishthir, Bheem, Arjun, Nakul and Sahadev; all scampered towards their uncle, whose shelter offered some anchorage against their dying sense of security. Vidura smiled in little fulfillment until he realised that the Kuru Princess, Pandu's beloved daughter hadn't yet budged from her place and neither did she looked willing to do so.

Vidura called her in concern. The lass turned around, a keen expression on her face that contrasted her welled up and reddened eyes. Yudhishthir was quick to give a nod to his little sister, asking her to not be anymore stubborn and let her heavy heart rest in her brothers' embrace but Dhriti had different plans. Different plans, different conclusions and different questions to demand; and so – she acted upon it – running away from the agnichita, her mother, her brothers and everyone who could and would've held her close in assurance.

"Dhriti, wait! Don't run away, Putri!"

"I know where she must've gone. I shall go and assuage her." Ved Vyasa firmly offered, his uptight eyes envisaging that he knew something more. Gaining a nod from Satyavati and a preoccupied Vidura, the revered sage quickened his steps that lead him towards the cabin like mandira of Goddess Parvati. His uptight eyes were now paired with hitched breath and a lump in his throat that told him to not move any further towards the KuntiPutri.

"Dhriti..." he called from afar, waiting for her reply before speaking again. "Standing in front of the temple of the almighty goddess and yet staring into the cold nothingness, why putri?" Krishna Dvaipayana inquired again, the gesticulation of the surrounding nature cueing him towards an answer in return. He advanced further, his stone - like stick crushing the dried leaves on the ground while he stood face to face with the princess.

"Devi Maa Parvati has finally answered my deluded streaks of questions —" In an husked voice, she bespoke in return. Anger was an emotion that materialise even before it shows up as an hint on the person's face. Right now, for Dhriti, the mysterious feelings of the morning and the delusion of her father's death had now turned into a lethal sword of rage that lighted up in the scabbard of her eyes.

"Noo....." Vyasa's alert voice barely reached his own ears yet echoed along with the rest of the deities of the universe, who wished to not scumb to the anger of their Divine Mother. But what when the divine mother herself is unaware of her own truth?
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Using p̶l̶a̶g̶i̶a̶r̶i̶s̶i̶n̶g̶  any of my above written concepts in the name of "inspiration" or "copy pasting the same concept with different words" will lead to serious actions taken — publicly :)

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Hello everyone! and sorry for the LATE update. It was very tricky to portray grief in way we all could feel it while reading and I hope I stayed up to the expectations.

Also!!
Kanha's Priya is officially featured by WATTPAD (in the Asian Fantasy category!) and they have conducted a little interview of mine
So, only if you all would genuinely like to give it a read and maybe leave a comment, it would mean the world to
me <3
You can find the link in my announcements!

And!!
I have updated a brand new description for the story do please read that and tell me if you like it.

Anyways,

I hope you all like this,
If you do, don't forget to vote and comment.
Thanks.
xx.