Mahabharata - Blog Posts

Manifesting Sriya Reddy as Draupadi in the upcoming Palace of Illusions movie. This goddess got both the acting chops and the looks, Suzhal bears testament. Divine powers, please let it happen. Please

Meera

Rana vish ro pyala bheja

Piya magan hoya

Meera ri lagan lagya

Kodh ho jo gaya....

This art is SO........

Artist unknown, dm if you know them

Mythology Fic Challenge: H for Honor, Sita & Draupadi

For anon!

Draupadi learns quickly to be exasperated with the example set by Janaka’s daughter. “She suffered so,” exclaim the other women of the court, “and remained silent through it all! That is why,” they tell Draupadi, newly emerged from fire and a stranger to human mores, “she became a goddess, remembered to this day.”

Draupadi has no use for goddesses, not when the crackle of fire is so close to her soul, and Krishna a friend she can know and see and feel. She has just as little patience for silence, too, no matter how potent a weapon it might be: hers will always be the shout instead.

But Krishna always shakes his head at her when she complains. “You are not so very different, you know,” he tells her mildly. “I am sure she does not deserve your scorn.”

“Maybe not,” Draupadi admits, “but not my respect, either.”

That is before Draupadi is won, and wed, and wagered away: that is before the first shock of finding herself so poorly valued by those she had loved and trusted. That is before she closes her eyes and dreams, the bruises of Dushanana’s fingers still livid on her shoulders, and sees a golden-skinned woman before her.

The woman raises a hand, holds it to Draupadi’s cheek. Her fingernails are caked with dirt. 

“My poor daughter,” she breathes. “Learn this from me: your honor is in your own hands, and no other’s. No one can take it from you, not by touch or word or deed. Fight for it, with all your strength; rage against the powerful, who would render you so helpless.”

Mother, Draupadi thinks, with a desperation she has never known. Sister. Anyone who might understand me. 

“The world has forgotten this of me,” says Sita sadly. “Not you, as well.”

Krishna : Now I’ll just casually tell Arjun that Duryodhan wants to marry Subadhra, and also drop hints about where she’ll be tonight ! What could go wrong ?

His phone the next day :

tagging @soniaoutloud @chaanv @bigheadedgirlwithbigdreams

Krishna:

Yudhishthir at the dyutt sabha:

Bheem:

Arjun:

Nakul:

Sahdev:

Karna:

Bhishm @Dhritarashtra:

Vidur:

Dhritarashtra:

.

.

.

[ Mahabharat Characters as Tweet Peeps ]

Alphabet Fic Challenge: Y for Yellow, Draupadi

Prompted by me! Because if there’s something to celebrate being done with this project, it’s commemorating Team Krishna(a)!

Yellow means many things to Draupadi.

It is the smear of turmeric that always settles upon her silks when she cooks, no matter how careful she means to be. It is the soft splendor of sunlight, its warmth magnified by the windows of this grand palace Mayasura has built for them. It is the golden gleaming coats of her husbands’ horses; it is the fluttering banner of the karnikara tree that her darling Abhimanyu has chosen for himself.

But best and most beloved of all, it is always a sign of the approach of her dearest and most dependable friend.

@hindumythologyevent day 4 - Male characters / sources

Sometimes she wondered if the others could see it too.

The way he moved, with something more than just a warrior’s confidence and strength, more than just a prince’s grace and charm.

The way he smiled, the smile of a man who had seen everything there was to be seen, almost like he was watching the world unfold around him like a retelling of a beloved play.

The way he drew people towards him, commanded not just the respect but the love and adoration of those around him, almost effortlessly.

The way people turned to him for advice, approval, comfort, even in anger - how they always looked to him first.

The way his arrival would silence a room, make people hold their breath, make them gawk, not in fear or shock, but in admiration. He was beautiful, yes, but it was something more.

Were it anyone else, she might have thought him insincere, a man who put on an act, who rarely revealed his true colors, she might have even been envious - he cannot be this immaculate, not truly. But with him, there was no question of it.

She’d seen his mischief, his laughter, his practicality, his morality; his bluntness, almost outright rudeness towards those who didn’t deserve his respect, and his utter devotion and earnestness to those who did.

She’d seen him brighten her husband Arjun’s day with just a smile, lessen her own sadness with just a hand on her arm, calm even his hot tempered long suffering brother Balram’s anger with only a look.

She hadn’t often seen him rise to anger, despite the many situations that warranted it. She knew, of course, that his offenders were far beneath him, undeserving of not just his anger but his mere presence, but it made him all the more fascinating, the way their words had seemingly no effect on him save for amusement, how he so rarely acted in haste, or fell prey to his temper, yet how easy it was for him to smile, to laugh, to sing.

She’d heard the insults they threw at him - that he was only a cowherd, only a milkmaid’s son, no one to be respected, as if those were titles to be ashamed of.

She’d heard of eyes twinkling like stars before, but the stars she saw in his eyes felt real - too real.

She’d heard tales, from Subhadra, of his enchanting prowess with the flute. How his music would make the gopis dance, how everyone would flock to hear it, beg him to play it for them, how even the cows in vrindavan would come to him when they heard it. No , she’d wanted to say, it wasn’t the music, it wasn’t just the music, it was him.

She’d heard of the events that followed in his wake- of Pootna, of Mount Govardhan, of Kansa; she was no stranger to divine intervention, being born from fire herself, but it did not seem to her as if he had obtained boons from various gods, or as if he was under the protection of one, and that was what had led to the stories that followed him. Who was he, really? What was he?.

But for all her musings, he seemed almost inexplicably human, inexplicably mortal. She saw in him the sky, the stars, the heavens, but she also saw the dust from behind the wheels of his chariot, the blood his divine weapon left on his fingers, the love with which he held his wives’ hands, the tenderness with which he held her first son in his arms.

Krishna, Vasudev, Govinda , Giridhari, Keshav, Son of Devaki, Son of Yashoda, Son of Nanda, Her true friend, confidant, her partner in crime, the perfect match to her wit, and somehow, something more. More than anything she has ever known.

It’s why when she feels the most alone she has ever felt, the most angry, the most betrayed, the most helpless, the most afraid, she calls out to him.

Because she knows without a doubt he will hear her

Alphabet Fic Challenge: K for Krishna, Arjuna

For @fierarain as part of the Alphabet Fic Challenge!

They are a study in contrasts, these two cousins.

Arjuna is fair of face and forbidding, as Krishna is dark-skinned and disarming; Sabyasachi smiles only rarely, but Shyam has a mouth made for laughter. At times it is difficult to see what pleasure they could possibly find in each other’s company, but something, certainly, there must be.

Perhaps it is this: both of them know, all too well, what it is to be tucked in the middle of a trail of siblings, not responsible enough to be respected as the eldest should be, not careless enough to be coddled as the youngest should be.

Perhaps it is this: that one likes to give orders, and the other to obey. So at least Duryodhana jeers, and neither Jishnu or Janardhana offer any rebuttal. They need not; they know all too well that they are equally wise and equally wary, and there is no one else in the world who they trust as they do each other.

Perhaps it is as simple as this: that their joys are shared, as are their sorrows, and when Narayan reminds Nara that they are but one and the same, it can be nothing but the truth.

Meet the Plastics [Mahabharat version]

Duryodhana: That one there that’s Arjuna, he’s one of the dumbest guys you’ll ever meet.

Duryodhana: That big one over there, that’s Bhisma. Bhisma knows everybody’s business. He knows everything about everyone.

Dushasana: That’s why his beard is so big, it’s full of secrets.

Duryodhana: And evil takes a human form in Vasudev Krishna. Don’t be fooled, he may seem like your typical selfish backstabbing slut faced hoe bag but in reality…hes so much more than that.

Dushasana: He’s the queen-bee, the star, those two are just his little workers.

Duryodhana: Krishna. How do I even begin to explain Vasudev Krishna?

* Vidur: Vasudev Krishna is flawless!

Dhritirashtra: He has 16000 houses made of pure gold just for his 16000 wives.

Yudhisthira: I heard his peacock feather is ensured for 10,000 dollars.

Shakuni: I heard he does vimana commercials, in EGYPT.

Kunti: His favorite food is honey milk.

Dronacharya: One time I heard he met King Jarasandha on his vimana, and told him he was beautiful.

Kansa: And one time he punched me in the face…it was awesome.*

Rukmini

And perhaps what made her beautiful

was not her appearance

or what she achieved

but in her love,

and in her courage,

and her audacity to believe,

~ Morgan Nichols

Three holidays Krishna loves and one he hates (or vice versa)? - Really, I am so, so glad you're doing this again, Avani Di. I adored the prev. ones!

1. “Sometimes,” says Balarama, with what little dignity he can manage considering his ears are currently dyed bright green, “I think you only like this blasted festival because it gives you leave to cause as much trouble as you please.”

“Happy Holi, dau,” chirps Krishna in response, and salutes him with another handful of crimson powder to the face. 

2. To be certain, Yasodha thinks, her son seems to defer to the Great God, as much as he does anyone, but even that does not lessen her suspicion that he only piously parrots a desire to celebrate Sivaratri as the god intends to have an excuse to stay out as long as he pleases, indulging his wildness. 

3. Krishna does enjoy the Govardhana pujas that follow in place of Indra’s sacrifices, as the self-satisfied expression on his face suggests, but only Radha thinks to ask why.

“Because,” he says, and there is hope burning in the back of his eyes, “it tells me I can change what does not please me.”

&1. On the ninth day of Chaitra, the prince of the Vraj always wakes with a long-dead mother’s name on his lips, a lifetime of memories that hold no meaning for anyone but himself. 

It is only a day like another now. He has no reason to think it different than any other. He will not, ever again. 

[reading] “the relationship between a warrior and a charioteer is a special one in ancient warfare”

sir so you're saying that Achilles and Patroclus were not only quite the couple but they also shared a brain cell by profession

heck I'm reading a Bhagavad-Gita excerpt right now and it looks like Krishna was Arjuna's brain cell too

so like is it legal for me to ask couples “which one is the warrior and which one is the charioteer?”