pandavapanchaliweek

[pandavapanchaliweek]

Day 7: Pandavas and their Children

The Survivors:

Yaudheya: Son of Yudhisthira and Devikā, the princess of Shibi. He was also known as Devaka.

Sarvaga: Son of Bhima and Baladharā, the princess of Kashi.

Babruvahana: Son of Arjuna and Chintrāngadā, the warrior- princess of Manipura. He later became the king of Manipura, succeeding his maternal grandfather.

Niramitra: Son of Nakula and Karenumatī, the daughter of Shishupala and princess of Chedi.

Suhotra: Son of Sahadeva and Vijayā, the princess of Madra.

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[pandavapanchaliweek]

Day 7: The Pandava Children

Ghatotkacha: Son of Hidimbā and Bhima. He was thus named as he was deemed to be shiny as a pot.

Iravan: Son of Ulūpi and Arjuna.

Prativindhya: Son of Krishnā and Yudhisthira. He was thus named as it was predicted that he would resemble the Vindhya mountains in his knowledge about the weapons of his enemies.

Sutasoma: Son of Krishnā and Bhima. He was thus named as he was born after a thousand soma sacrifices.

Shatanika: Son of Krishnā and Nakula. He was named after a sage of the Kuru lineage.

Shrutasena: Son of Krishnā and Sahadeva. He was named so as he was born when the Vahnidaivata was in the ascendant.

Abhimanyu: Son of Chitrā and Arjuna. He was thus known as he was extremely wrathful.

Shrutakarma: Son of Krishnā and Arjuna. He was named in commemoration of the great deeds performed by Arjuna.

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[pandavapanchaliweek]

That wraps up the event, guys!

Thank you all so, so much for showering so much love on the event! None of this would have been possible without all of you, and I am so beyond grateful to every single one of you who participated or interacted with the posts.

If anyone still would like to post anything for any of the days, you are more than welcome! Please tag this account so that I can reblog your lovely works. Don't worry about it being late. (I say this because I haven't written 5 out of the 7 works I'd originally planned.)

Again, thank you guys so much!

[pandavapanchaliweek]

Credit : My design

Yagyasaini and Kauravi

~•°○●♡●○°•~♧♤♧~•°○●♡●○°•~

"Catfight? Say, have you ever seen a pair of lionesses battle?"

Strangers || Allies || Friends

".... pain, ambition, love... cruelty, kindness, hatred... at one point, it's all the same...."

Queens • Sisters • Mothers

"I have won wars you can only ever hope to survive."

The Daughter of Fire ○ The Queen of Nagas

~•°○●♡●○°•~♧♤♧~•°○●♡●○°•~

@theramblergal @pandavapanchaliweek

[pandavapanchaliweek]

PANDAVAPANCHALIWEEK

DAY 7: The children of the Pandavas and their parents

@pandavapanchaliweek

TW: Fire and Death

----

Vilomah

(sanskrit). Against the natural order of things.

A lot of things in her life were...not common, nor were they things which were considered...traditional, to say the very least.

Most of the time, it was not something she paid mind to.

She was grateful for all the things that she was given, in life.

Everyone had gotten used to niyati taking it's course in the least imaginable way possible- it was simply how it was.

For it, she had built her resolve step by step, meticulously training herself to hold a face of composure and fierceness.

She built it from the ground up, raising a fortress deep within her soul.

Perhaps it was their thinking that made Kala unravel the threads of time again, to weave it once more, only for the strings to tangle and turn into knots one could only cut apart.

She could do nothing as tears fell out of her eyes involuntarily, while she stared at the burning brilliance of the pyres upon which her beloved sons rested.

Nothing was limid as she had once thought it had been, and the image of happiness she once had visualised in her mind's eye had now been wiped beyond recognition.

Her fortress crumbled, as grief laid siege upon her soul, tearing everything down, brick by brick.

----

जय सीतारामलक्ष्मण की!

Aaaaaa can't believe today is the final day of the fest!! I had an absolute BLAST writing for this event, and it was an absolute joy to write and participate in this! Mod did an awesome job at organising everything and the concept itself was a super super cool one to write for- sending the mod and all the participants of this event all my love and support- this was an absolute joy to do! I hope to see you all around <3

Stay safe, healthy and hydrated <3

Have a good one, folks

[pandavapanchaliweek]

Similar(ity)

having a resemblance in appearance, character, or quantity, without being identical.

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TW: Mentions of fire

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Reminder: This is a work made from my own imagination, with inspiration from the actual itihasa, and not meant to hurt anyone's sentiments.

Thank you.

------------------------------------

Unedited: you've been warned.

--------------------------

The sons of Draupadi were always told they looked like their fathers- but they weren't identical. They had their own traits, but they greatly reflected their fathers.

That's why they were called the UpaPandavas, after all.

It had been a source of pride for them, to hear that they were like shadows of their fathers- some of the greatest warriors to walk on earth.

It had been a source of comfort for them, growing up, to see similarities between them and their fathers in the mirror in their absence.

They'd got countless remarks on that. Perhaps, accompanied by a pat on the back, a hand ruffling their hair, or an arm swung around their shoulders, along with gentle chuckles, teasing giggles or roaring laughter.

Their fathers had always doted on them- and how similar their sons were to them- yet still had a charm- perhaps, that was the work of their uncles.

Whenever their mother would see them, she'd always pout and remark how they barely got any of her traits, but in the end would always end up showering them in affection.

But for the first time, it is a source of pure agony for everyone, as their tent is being engulfed in fierce flames.

For the first time, they wondered, why did their have to be so similar to their fathers.

--------------------------

जय सीतारामलक्ष्मण की!

Hello!!!! :D

I hope y'all liked this piece- it's my first one to do with the Mahabharata!!

I had a particularly hard time figuring out the title for this one, but I am quite satisfied :D

I've been having extreme brainrot for the past few days, and I saw some content on the Upapandavas and *whoosh*- would you look at that, an idea :D

I think I can improve on it- so I may come back to edit it sooner or later but we'll have to see ToT

I hope y'all enjoyed this piece- and as always, constructive feedback, criticism and comments are always appreciated and they mean a lot to me! <3

Its fairly short, I know, but I swear I'm making longer stuff which is coming up TvT

Stay safe, healthy and hydrated<3

hope y'all have a good day/evening/night!

Have a good one, folks!

[pandavapanchaliweek]

Day 7: The children of the Pandavas and their parents

Ghatotkacha. Prativindhya. Yaudheya. Sutasoma. Sarvaga. Iravan. Babhruvahana. Abhimanyu. Shutakarma. Shatanika. Niramitra. Shrutasena. Suhotra.

The children. The ones who were separated from their parents when they were children. The ones who died too early, they who were supposed to be the future of their parents. And those who remained.

They were their parents' hope.

What do you think they were like? More like their mothers or fathers? How did the exile, and external factors, shape their upbringing? Did they resent or understand their fathers for the exile? Did they even want to participate in the war?

The last day! (So sorry this is so late.)

[pandavapanchaliweek]

PANDAVAPANCHALIWEEK

DAY 6: Draupadi and her co-wives

@pandavapanchaliweek

---

Home

(noun). The place where one feels they belong.

For a while, Krishnā never truly knew where she was meant to belong.

She had first entered this world from the comforting embrace of Agni Deva, being accepted as the Princess of Pānchala with great pomp. The comfort of her parents, the gentle guidance of her elder sibling and the banter with her brother was something she cherished, but she had been aware that her story was only beginning.

She had stepped into the house of Hastinapura, being proclaimed as the kulvadhu of the Kurus, stepping through the grand gate with hundreds of eyes gazing upon them- scrutiny or wonder; she couldn't tell. She was grateful for her mother-in-law's soft words of love, the presence of Pitamaha as an everlasting beacon of empathy, and the insights of wisdom given to her by Mahamantri Vidura- but yet, the labyrinthian walls of the royal enclosure felt only like its name- an enclosure.

Something just would not fit in.

Not fully, atleast.

Something was askew- and she just could not place it.

Gradually, though, it was like that piece of her had carved out a place for itself.

It made itself a place to be.

She had been welcomed into their brand new city, revered as the queen of the land, and of their heart. Her heart belonged to the moments of tenderness with her husbands, the innocent joy of her children, and the laughter of her co-wives.

It never just...clicked, in her. It was a process- a process where she realised that they had not found their safety- they had created it, by themselves.

It was created by foundations of the magnificent architecture. It was created by the pitter-pattering of children's feet always resounding in the halls. It was created by the love, sweat and tears of her co-wives.

She couldn't help but care for them. They had sacrificed everything to be where they were, now. They had poured all their love into nurturing what had now grown into the fruit of their efforts.

Their bonding time was often spent together in the few moments of quiet they would manage to get a hold of, in the middle of all the chaos- right after everyone would finally settle down after the morning procedures; and just before they would have to get up to begin attending to their duties for the evening once more.

It was during these moments of fleeting silence, tired smiles, and suppressed giggles that she realised that this, was her home.

----

जय सीतारामलक्ष्मण की!

Can't believe this is the second to last day of this fest! This piece really challanged by brain, but I hope y'all like it :)

Stay safe, healthy and hydrated <3

Have a good one, folks!

[pandavapanchaliweek]

Day 6: Draupadi and her co-wives Panchali-Subhadra

@theramblergal @pandavapanchaliweek

[pandavapanchaliweek]

Day 6: Draupadi and her co-wives

Beyond just the romance of partners is the relationships between the co-wives of the Pandavas. The queens stood behind their husbands as a foundation, a building block that helped strengthen the power of the kingdom itself.

From the peaceful years in Indraprastha, to the separation during the exile, to after the war, having lost everything, these women are not just co-wives, but sisters by heart and love.

How do you think their relationships were built? Were they wary of each other at the beginning? Did they ever clash due to their differences? How did they work together; what do you see?

Almost to the end of the event!

Thank you to everyone who participated!

[pandavapanchaliweek]

Day 5: Sahadeva and Draupadi

Smarane

The thing about grief was that it was unpredictable in its arrival and impossibly stubborn to contain. It could be brought on with a single touch, a glance, a word spoken at an inopportune moment; the world itself became a source of endless despair, supplying one with tantalizing glimpses of those who would never return and yet, had left their marks on it, however glorious or slight they may have been.

The night jasmine blossoms had been Dhrishtadyumna's favorite flowers, simply because, as he'd told Sahadev, they bloomed in all their glory as the entire world slept, uncaring that the best of their beauty would forever be veiled from all.

Not unexpectedly then, he had found his wife silently staring at the heaps of garlands made of those very flowers, ready to be offered in prayer.

Her eyes were swollen at places, having taken on a worrying bloody hue, and tears brimmed freely in them, large translucent pearls that ripped away at his heart.

He quietly made his way upto her, pressing down lightly on her shoulders so as to not startle her when he spoke.

"You can have them removed, if you want, you know? They are not the only flowers for the puja."

"No," she insisted. "Let them be. Sometimes, it's good to be reminded of him."

He wondered sometimes if the joy of remembering a golden past was worth the pain returning to a present as bleak as theirs?

"How do you do it?" He whispered, settling down next to her, close enough to wipe the tears off her face. "Where do you find the strength?"

Grief was no stranger to him, it was the steadfast companion of his nights and days. you life had been marked by death long before a child his age should have understood it. The losses were almost common amongst the six of them, of parents and children, of friends and relations.

But atleast he had been spared his brothers, the only constants of his otherwise fitful life; atleast he had never faced a world where half his soul had been scattered across the rivers of the old.

(The visions of that horrible day years ago floated upto the surface of his memories and a sharp thorn of pain took root in his chest- the sight of the corpse of the brother who held the keys to his happiness in every little gesture of fraternal affection; of the entreaties that had for the first time, fallen on utterly deaf ears; of the stark, all consuming pain that had come with it, robbing him of even the coherence of his thoughts.

No, he refused to think of it.)

She had not been as fortunate. In the stroke of a single night, almost everyone that she'd ever loved had been ripped away from her, carried of to the realms that lay beyond their comprehension.

"My brother deserves better than to be remembered only through records and genealogies while I live and breathe," she whispered right back at him, absently fiddling with the flowers that had been deemed to damaged for the garlands. "Wouldn't you do that for yours?"

He usually liked to think through every question before he answered, turning it around in his head till he had covered all possibilities. But one only thought about the answers to hypotheticals, not about the abject reality that he had been subjected to, however blessedly ephemeral it had been.

"I would not need to," he answered. "I'd not survive it."

It was the truth, he had not survived it, not truly.

She looked at him a long monent, eyes coming back into focus rapidly as her hands came to rest on his, fingers intertwining in a desperate move to stay afloat in a sea of sorrow.

"What about the children, then? Do you have the strength to remember them?"

How could he not remember them, the boys who had delighted their hearts, filled them with pride and then left them utterly empty, with empty spaces where their vibrance had made home.

"Long as I live, I promise they'll not be forgotten. They will remain the boys we'd loved with all our beings. I'll not have them be reduced to simple stories without souls, to mere footnotes in the grand history our clan."

The future wasn't his to regulate, never would be, but the present would be kind to his sons if he had any say in the matter.

@theramblergal @pandavapanchaliweek

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[pandavapanchaliweek]

PANDAVAPANCHALIWEEK

DAY 5: Sahadeva and Draupadi

@pandavapanchaliweek

----

Yāgyaseni

The one who is born from the holy fire.

Words.

They were a powerful thing, really.

They could break so many relations and ties in just mere seconds.

But it was just as true that they also had the power to build bonds just as quickly.

That was the thing she loved about them. It was what made her so proud of the youngest Āśvineya.

He held a mastery over words- easily weaving them into lyrical sentences would flow out of his mouth as a means to convey thought-striking concepts.

It was also how he had won the way to her heart, carefully paving his way through with careful approaches and tender phrases.

Their time together was something she cherished and held close to her heart. She never realised how the hours would pass by, as they would indulge in deep discussions about anything and everything under the sun.

Whether it be about the positions of the constellations situated in the vast, expansive night sky they sat under; or the complexity of how a small medicinal leaf sustained the plant itself and the others around it.

It wasn't hard to understand that his intellect and wisdom was far beyond his physical self. She could guarantee it without even an inch of doubt.

Yet, she could never seem to stop herself from holding back her endearment when he would talk to her, speaking to her with a childish excitement beaming through his eyes whilst gazing at her with nothing less than adoration.

She would forever be grateful for his love, that shone through in each one of their moments together, shining just as brightly as the fire she once came forth from.

----

जय सीतारामलक्ष्मण की!

With that, we reach the five day mark of this fest! Can't believe how fast the days flew by, this has been very fun to write for! Stay tuned for the next two pieces :)

Stay safe, healthy and hydrated <3

Have a good one, folks!

[pandavapanchaliweek]

Day 5: Sahadeva and Draupadi

"On having seen Panchali molested in the assembly hall, how can my anger towards Suyodhana be pacified without him being killed? Oh Krishna! If Bhima, Arjuna and Dharmaraja wish to stick to Dharma, I will give up Dharma and wish to fight them [the Kauravas] in battle."

- Bhagvata Yana Parva

"The second one is light of hand and fights with the sword. He is mighty and intelligent and he is Sahadeva. O foolish one! You shall witness his deeds in battle today, like Shatakratu against the army of Daityas. He performs acts which bring pleasure to the king. He is like the moon and the sun in his energy. He is the youngest of the Pandavas and is loved by them. There is no other man who is his equal in intelligence. He is eloquent in an assembly of the wise. He is brave and always intolerant. He is happy to give up his life or enter the fire, rather than give up Dharma. He is devoted to the dharma of Kshatriyas and is dearer to Kunti than her own life. This is Sahadeva, my husband."

- Draupadi Harana Parva

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[pandavapanchaliweek]

Day 5: Sahadeva and Draupadi

Ashvineya Sahadeva and Agnijaa Draupadi, the younger twin of their pairs. The quietest of the five Pandavas, and the bright flame that ever burns. Their love is the quietest of all; it does not manifest in loud actions or dramatic declarations like the others, but it is there.

A foundation upon which grand palaces are built, a place upon which to rest your head on and know the other will be waiting for you no matter how long you need to rest.

How do you see their relationship? What sort of gestures did they have? Did they bond over being the younger of the twins? How was their relationship with each other and their twins at the same time?

To the last of Krishnaa's husbands!

[pandavapanchaliweek]

Day 4: Nakul and Draupadi

Shoka

The messengers that had been pouring in since the evening had told her, over and over again, that the Kauravas had been defeated.

They had won. They had won and righteousness had prevailed.

But the man who stood before her displayed no euphoria of victory. His was the face of a man defeated, a man who had been taken apart and crushed until nothing remained of him but a shell of his former self.

Never, never in her life had the fourth of her husbands looked as broken as he did now. The light in his eyes that had guided her through the darkness of her memories had been snuffed out; the only sign of life in them was the ceaseless flood of tears that trickled down his eyes. His hands hung limp to his side, no longer fidgeting with the object nearest to them.

He looked like he wished for the darkness of the night to engulf him whole.

The unease that had been bubbling in her chest gave rise to unmitigated, blind panic and she stumbled towards him.

"Panc-," his voice cracked, "Forgive me, Krishnaa."

She gripped onto his shoulders, her heart thumping with the agony of a vague idea that had taken a misty outline in her mind, "What happened?"

Nakul bowed his head till she could no longer look him in the eye, grasping for air as he spoke, "Ashwatthama broke in into the camp while we- the five of us- were away. He massacred them all, every last man in the tents. They fought back, but it was as if death itself had possessed him."

Every last man? Her brothers? Her nephews?

Her children?

Her hands drooped down of their own acccord, her vision went blurry around the edges, as her feet felt all too heavy to support the weight of it all.

That could not be right.

"Every man?" Her voice sounded all too feeble, too quiet to be heard amidst the strange buzz ringing in her ears. "Even the children?"

A pair of dusky arms held on tightly to her, steadying her amidst a world that no longer seemed fit to walk on, devoid of meaning, of colour and vibrance and hope.

"Everyone, Krishnaa," he finally replied in a voice choked, as a torrent of tears slid down her cheeks, "Even the children."

Blazing wildfires took shape in her lotus eyes, and a scream escaped her lips, hollowed and raging, cutting through the night's silence as her husband gently lowered her figure to the ground, even as his own body shook in ill- concealed grief.

She could not bring herself to care. She could only scream, once, twice, thrice, till she lost count and her throat came raw.

He pushed a pitcher full of cool water onto her lips. "Drink, dear. Please. It'll help, I promise."

The water pricked at her throat, but she dutifully drunk it down, if only to allay the fear so stark in his copper eyes.

He was her refuge from the storms that ravaged the world. He was the north star in her sky, always guiding her to hope even on the dreariest of nights. That was why he had been sent to relay the news to her, wasn't it? He was the very serenity of the universe personified.

Now, he looked lost too, as if drifting aimlessly through the unknown waters of the rivers that slowly rose above the surface of his body, drowning him in itself without him even knowing.

"I wish to see my children," she finally said through the veil of her undone hair hanging over her face, and he closed his eyes, "And then, I want their killer brought to justice."

When he looked at her again, the inferno in his eyes mirrored the flames in hers. He wiped away her tears, and an icy determination took root in his gentle voice, "He will beg for mercy at your feet, I promise you this, empress."

@theramblergal @pandavapanchaliweek

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[pandavapanchaliweek]

PANDAVAPANCHALIWEEK

DAY 4: Nakula and Draupadi

@pandavapanchaliweek

----

Malinī

The one who makes flower garlands.

Flowers were something she had grown very fond of.

They were marvels of nature, growing in beautifully vibrant colours in innumerable shapes and sizes.

Most of them were considered to have significance in one's life.

Including hers.

Some of her dearest memories with the elder Mādreya were associated with flowers.

It was something she would look forward to, every day.

In the morning, he would personally assign himself the duty of adorning her hair with blossoms of all kinds- whether they were fully bloomed, or small, dainty buds.

And in the night, when they would finally have a moment of solace, he would put forth a basket filled to the brim with all sorts of florets and petals, putting it in front of her and eagerly asking which ones she might've liked the most, as so he could tenderly tuck them into her tresses.

He was one of the people she'd learnt to weave flowers from. He would teach her the different ways each flower could be used- their traits, and the way to handle them. He'd compared it to taking care of children- for they were soft, fragile, beautiful little things.

The first (few) times, she had gotten...not so expected results. He'd looked at her attempt with an incredulous and playful look in his eyes, as she held it up in satisfaction; before they both promptly burst into silent laughter.

Eventually, she did get better at it, quite so. She quickly took to creating beautiful crowns and garlands that she would teasingly adorn his head with, a cheeky grim her face, while he would only be able to gawk as he processed her actions.

Until that day came, though..he would call smugly break out into poetry, while she looked at him with mirth, and he tried not to smile at her endearing endeavours in the flowery craft.

"Malinī," he'd teasingly call her, as she would huff at him in a mock complaint, grateful for the moments of fleeting bliss they shared, basking in each other's love like two lotuses entwined into one.

----

जय सीतारामलक्ष्मण की!

Choosing the name was hard for this one, but I am very happy with how it turned out!

Stay safe, healthy and hydrated!

Have a good one, folks!

[pandavapanchaliweek]

PandavaPanchali Week Day 4:

𝐍𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐋𝐀 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐔𝐏𝐀𝐃𝐈

⋆.˚🦋༘⋆

Often since their marriage, the most handsome prince of the Kurus and the Somaka princess find each other’s company in the garden. She’s broken the ice with the eldest, having listened to his excited information gathering while they sit privately. She accompanies Bhima in his culinary arts, and he in turn quenches all her odd cravings. Arjuna and her sit with Kanhaai and Bhama, the four now forming an inseparable quartet that is invincible to break in to.

However, the next of her lords and the goddess of the heavens are yet to find anything that

The four of the Pandava brothers unknowingly knits his brows together, distractedly inspecting a bright yellow marigold. Deva did not tell me how it went, the ice breaking. What do they bond on?

Krishnaa grins, caressing a periwinkle blue petal that goes on in the wreath she’s weaving. To put it in his hair, she had said, giggling, to a similarly mirthful Kunti. Such pretty wavy hair he has! Mother, do you think I can braid them sometime?

The gardens spread far and wide, ahead of their muddy hut. The dark forests are at a distance, fortunately, as Nakula would hate to have her blush pink feet trace the coarse paths. Speaking of Krishnaa, they haven’t shared much words ever since the wedding, just some small, timid moments filled with awkward periods of silence. The Madreya isn’t generally the quiet type, that is his twin. He is vocal and child-like, choosing to see the better side of everything. He sees what others fail to, others who fancy crying over spilt milk and not appreciating what they’ve been gifted with.

But, what do you say to a wife that is the embodiment of everything pulchritudinous he has ever laid his gaze on? Despite having many women swoon at his attractiveness, the prince does happen to be a bit coy when it comes to the opposite gender.

His wife, who is blissfully unaware of the dramatic monologues and soliloquies playing out in his mind, goes on to pick a piece of baby’s breath to fantasticate her wreath.

“You adore those flowers, don’t you?” Krishnaa’s wide grin displaying a perfect set of teeth spells trouble, or at least some sort of prank. Nakula just knows it. But he’s willing to play along, as long as she has that carefree smile intact.

The lord knows he despises anyone touching his hair. It takes time for it to gain its natural flair, you know? And it takes even more effort for it to not resemble Bhrata Arjuna’s nest of a thing he has on his head.

Her husband smiles, light brown eyes reflecting the vista ahead of them and then her own image— curious and cheerful. Then his smile widens and he leans back, an arm tucked under his head. “Yes, my queen. Especially blue lotuses; did I mention they put a restless heart to peace?”

The fragrant jasmine blooms in his calloused palms have taken the shape of two dainty earrings, he finds after a long while of floaty thoughts crashing into each other, resulting his cheeks to gain the red she so fancies.

Krishnaa flushes, ducking her head to hide from the glare of the solar god. Her giggles are even more amused and rightfully so— since when has the immaculate Pandava prince gained this cheesy humour?

Nakula joins her laughter, ducking his head too for her to put the finished piece of her art in. While doing so, she grazes the softness of them and they remind her of the castle’s silks and velvets. He tilts his head to look at her ethereal face, which is almost in awe of the beauty ahead of him.

‘Your heart is in mine, Madreya, how’d I not know how beautiful it is?’

‘I am all yours since I first heard of you, Yagyasaini, do you think I not know what is in your mind?’

They walk back to their home, bathed in sunshine and flowers.