KUNTI (Part 2)

KUNTI (Part 2)

I had never lost my desire for a family.

I had no resentment toward Madri.

Nor did I hold any bitterness toward my husband, King Pandu.

I still dreamed of living a complete married life. Somewhere within me, I longed for another child through Pandu—a child who might somehow help me forget the son I had already been forced to lose.

But destiny had something else in store.

Pandu had returned from his hunting expedition carrying the curse of Sage Kindama.

He had been cursed that the moment he approached his wife with desire, death would claim him.

But that curse did not belong to Pandu alone.

It had fallen upon Madri.

It had fallen upon me.

It had fallen upon our dreams.

Upon our hopes.

Upon the very idea of the family we had imagined.

What could we do now?

Pandu renounced everything and walked into the forest.

We had no choice but to follow him.

Yet one question constantly haunted my heart:

"What happens now?"

I had been given a divine boon.

But I was afraid.

If I told Pandu about it, would he accept it?

Would he understand?

Would he allow such a thing?

I remained silent until the day the longing for children awakened within his own heart.

Then, whatever happened, I decided to tell him.

To my surprise, he was overjoyed.

He did not reject the idea.

Instead, he began describing the kind of son he desired and even named the deity he wished me to invoke.

He wanted a son who would uphold Dharma.

And so, the first name he spoke was Yama, the Lord of Dharma.

Through the divine boon, I was blessed with Yudhishthira.

Then came Bhima, born through the grace of mighty Vayu.

And then Arjuna, blessed by Indra, the lord of the heavens.

Three sons.

Three precious jewels.

For me, simply looking at my children was happiness enough.

Pandu too was transformed.

Watching his sons play, grow, and learn filled him with joy.

For a while, the forest felt like a palace.

But Madri...

Poor Madri.

She was suffering silently.

She had neither the companionship of her husband nor the joy of motherhood.

She was alone.

When she finally came to me and expressed the pain in her heart, I knew what I had to do.

I still had a part of the divine boon left.

Why should I keep it to myself?

I gave it to Madri.

Through it, she invoked the Ashwini Kumaras and was blessed with two beautiful sons—Nakula and Sahadeva.

At last, Pandu had five sons.

Yudhishthira, the eldest.

Bhima, the second.

Arjuna, the third.

And the twins, Nakula and Sahadeva.

Nakula and Sahadeva were Madri's sons, but never once did jealousy enter my heart.

They were Pandu's children.

They were my children too.

Everything seemed to be going well.

Pandu was happy watching his sons grow.

He had finally received the children he had longed for.

I too believed that perhaps our suffering had ended.

But once again, destiny shattered my hope.

I lost my husband.

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Madri believed that she herself was responsible for Pandu's death.

Unable to bear the guilt and unwilling to live without him, she chose to follow him in death.

And I...

I was left alone.

Five little children.

How could I raise them by myself?

There was no choice.

I had to return to Hastinapura.

A parental home without one's mother.

A husband's home without one's husband.

Both are difficult places for a woman to call home.

And for a widow, affection is rarely abundant.

Even within a palace, loneliness can be overwhelming.

Dhritarashtra was now the king.

But who would truly protect my children?

Who would ensure that they received justice?

My sons had to grow up amidst humiliation, hostility, and hatred.

Poor children.

They endured it all.

Duryodhana and his brothers taunted them.

Conspiracies were plotted against them.

Attempts were made to kill them.

Yet somehow, they survived.

They grew.

At last, following the command of Grandsire Bhishma, my sons were sent to the Gurukula.

Their teacher was none other than Dronacharya, a master renowned for his wisdom, skill, and martial prowess.

Knowing that my children