Your gateway to endless inspiration
It was a bright afternoon in Dwarka, the sun hanging lazily in the sky, mirroring the way Krishna and Arjuna lounged on the shaded steps overlooking the field. A group of Yadavas lounged under the shade of a marble pavilion, their laughter echoing as they watched what had now become a familiar sight: Satyaki challenging Arjuna- a weekly occurrence
Krishna, reclining against a pillar, plucked at a blade of grass. Arjuna, sitting beside him with one knee drawn up, absentmindedly twirled a training arrow between his fingers.
"You do realize, Parth, that they won't stop until one of them beats you?" Krishna said, amusement dancing in his voice.
Arjuna let out a small chuckle. "And when has that ever happened?"
Krishna laughed, shaking his head. Below them, Satyaki was stretching his arms, rolling his shoulders with exaggerated confidence. Pradyumna and Samba stood on either side of him, whispering among themselves. The younger Yadavas: brothers, cousins, and warriors-in-training- all gathered around, eager to watch.
“They’re plotting,” Krishna remarked, watching the trio below with a knowing glint in his eyes.
Arjuna sighed, shaking his head. "They always do."
Krishna grinned. “And yet, you continue to indulge them.”
Arjuna turned to him, his expression softening just a little. "Let them dream, Madhav. They are young. It is good for them to believe, even for a moment, that they stand a chance."
Krishna hummed in agreement, a smile tugging at his lips. "And do you ever let them win?"
Arjuna smirked. "Nope."
Before Krishna could reply, below them, Satyaki called out, “Come on, Parth! Let’s see if you can still keep up with me.”
A chorus of cheers and laughter rose from the assembled warriors, all eager for the spectacle. Pradyumna and Samba stood just behind him, pretending not to be involved but clearly far too eager.
Arjuna sighed dramatically and rose to his feet. " Very well, Yuyudhana. Let’s not keep your admirers waiting.”
He rose, stretching with elegance that made even something as simple as standing up look like an art. Krishna followed lazily, clearly in no rush to interfere.
The younger Yadavas whispered among themselves. “Satyaki might actually win this time,” one said.
“He’s faster now,” another added.
Krishna stifled a laugh. "They have so much faith in Satyaki, don't they?" Arjuna shook his head in mild exasperation before stepping forward. "Come then, my friend. Show me what you've learned."
The wrestling match had barely begun when Satyaki, brimming with confidence, lunged at Arjuna.
It might have worked… if Arjuna weren’t Arjuna.
Satyaki lunged, fast and strong- but against Arjuna, fast and strong were never enough.
With an almost casual movement, Arjuna sidestepped at the last moment, caught Satyaki’s arm, and redirected his force mid-air.
THUD…
Satyaki landed flat on his back, staring up at the sky, the breath knocked out of him. The watching onlookers winced.
From the steps, Krishna called out, “That looked graceful, Satyaki. Do you need a moment?”
Satyaki groaned. “I-I'm fine.”
Pradyumna folded his arms. "That looked painful."
Samba grinned. "Not as painful as what we’re about to do."
Before Arjuna could even turn around, the two young Yadava princes pounced.
Samba went for his legs while Pradyumna leapt for his shoulders. A sound strategy, against anyone else that is.
Arjuna, without so much as a frown, shifted his weight at the perfect moment. He caught Pradyumna mid-air with one arm and smoothly stepped aside- causing Samba to charge forward into thin air.
Samba, unable to stop in time, crashed straight into Satyaki.
“Off! Get off me, you little menace!” Satyaki groaned.
Arjuna, meanwhile, glanced down at Pradyumna, still held securely in his grip, like a father humoring an impatient son. “You seem troubled, Yuvraj,” Arjuna mused, his voice smooth as silk.
Pradyumna glared, red-faced, struggled in his grip. "Put me down, uncle!"
Arjuna smiled. "Oh? But you seemed eager to climb me a moment ago."
Samba, tangled with Satyaki, cackled. “He got you there.”
Pradyumna, refusing to lose face, latched onto Arjuna’s arm and refused to let go. Samba, never one to miss an opportunity, grabbed onto his other side.
Satyaki, deciding that this was the perfect time for revenge, lunged at Arjuna’s back.
It was three against one.
For anyone else, this would have been a fight.
For Arjuna? With a single, almost lazy shift of movement, he broke Samba and Pradyumna’s grip, twisted, and let Satyaki’s own momentum carry him forward- straight into the dirt. The three Yadavas collapsed in a heap, groaning. Dust flew everywhere.
Arjuna dusted off his sleeves, completely unruffled. He turned to Krishna, who was watching with clear amusement.
"Was that entertaining enough for you, Govind?"
Krishna chuckled. "It was brief but enjoyable. I did warn them."
Satyaki, still sprawled on the ground, glared up at Arjuna. "I will win one day."
Arjuna smiled fondly. "I admire your optimism, Yuyudhana."
Pradyumna, patting away all the dust from his being, muttered defeatly, “I hate him.”
Arjuna turned to him with genuine warmth in his eyes. "I know you don’t, Pradyumna. But do tell me when you’re ready to train again, I will teach you how to be better."
Pradyumna, despite himself, looked away, the irritation in his expression replaced by something almost begrudgingly respectful.
Samba, still grinning, clapped Arjuna on the back. “You’re annoying, but I like you.”
Arjuna let out a soft laugh and mussed Samba’s hair like an elder brother. "Likewise, little prince."
Krishna, watching the exchange, smiled knowingly. "You see, Parth? They admire you more than they admit."
Arjuna sighed, shaking his head with a fond smile. "They will be the end of me one day, Madhav."
Krishna laughed. "Then you’ll have to stay undefeated, won’t you?"
And with that, the three bruised, exhausted Yadavas stood once more- ready, even in their defeat, to challenge Arjuna again another day.
As the sun cast long golden streaks over the docks, Arjuna’s gaze fell upon a spice merchant deep in negotiation. The man was draped in a simple yet fine cotton shawl, his fingers adorned with rings-not ostentatious, but the kind that spoke of wealth gained through years of trade. Before him stood a customer, a lean man with keen eyes, gesturing toward a sack of cinnamon sticks.
“This is not quality,” the buyer said, shaking his head. “These are thin and brittle. I can get better ones from the southern traders for half your price.”
The merchant sighed, rubbing his forehead as if exhausted. “Ah, my friend, you wound me. Do you take me for a liar?” He reached into the sack, pulled out a cinnamon stick, and snapped it in half. A rich, warm aroma filled the air. “Do you smell that? The deep scent, the color-this is the finest from Malaya.”
The buyer frowned, clearly reluctant to concede. “Even if that is so, your price is too high.”
The merchant smiled knowingly. “And yet, here you are, still bargaining.”
Arjuna watched, intrigued. There was a battle happening here-one of words, patience, and careful maneuvering. The merchant was neither aggressive nor desperate. He simply stood firm, confident in the value of his goods.
Arjuna stepped closer, deciding to test the man himself. “You seem very sure of your price,” he said.
The merchant turned, taking in Arjuna’s attire-simple yet unmistakably fine. He studied his face a moment longer before smiling. “Ah, a new customer! And one with the curiosity of a scholar. Tell me, prince, what do you seek?”
Arjuna raised a brow but said nothing about being recognized. “Tell me instead-how do you always know when a buyer will return?”
The merchant’s eyes twinkled. “Because people are predictable. A man who truly thinks something is overpriced will walk away. But a man who stays to argue?” He chuckled. “He wants it. He just doesn’t want to admit it.”
Arjuna smirked. “So, you play a game of patience.”
“Patience, my lord,” the merchant said, “and knowledge. A warrior studies his enemy, does he not? I study my buyers. See that man over there?” He nodded toward a richly dressed trader examining silk. “He will buy, but not until I let him believe he has won a bargain. And that woman?” He gestured toward a lady running her fingers over a set of ivory bangles. “She values rarity. I will not offer her a discount-but I will tell her they are the last of their kind.”
Arjuna exhaled, impressed. “You know people well.”
“A merchant must.” The man clasped his hands together. “And so must a prince.”
Arjuna glanced at Krishna, who, as expected, was smiling as if he had planned this encounter all along.
“Tell me, prince,” the merchant continued, his tone now playful. “If you were to buy from me, how would you bargain?”
Arjuna considered the question. A test.
He picked up a handful of black peppercorns from a nearby basket, rolling them between his fingers. “These-how much for a measure?”
The merchant named his price without hesitation.
Arjuna gave a thoughtful hum. “I hear the traders from the east have brought fresher stock. Their pepper is larger, stronger in taste.”
The merchant did not waver. “Then you should buy from them.”
“But your stall is closer,” Arjuna countered, watching the man carefully. “And I do not wish to walk that far. Perhaps if your price were more reasonable…”
The merchant chuckled, shaking his head. “Ah, you bargain well. But if I lower my price, what will that say of my goods? That they are worth less? No, prince. I will not cheapen them.”
Arjuna studied him for a moment before nodding in approval. “Then you are a merchant of worth.”
The man grinned. “And you, a buyer of wisdom.” He took a small handful of peppercorns and pressed them into Arjuna’s palm. “A gift. For the lesson you let me teach.”
Arjuna inclined his head in gratitude, then turned to Krishna, who had been quietly observing. “Did I pass your test?”
Krishna only laughed. “Parth, the lessons of life do not come with scores. Only experience.”
Arjuna shook his head, suppressing a smile. He had learned something valuable today-words and patience could win battles just as surely as steel. And perhaps, if he ever found himself in another kind of war, the lessons of Dwarka’s merchants would serve him well.