Skip to main content

Uttara's Pain

This is part of the "Uttara Series" You will find under the Mahabharata. The series is also available on Wattpad.

It was the thirteenth day of the war. Bhadro Amavashya of the Year. The wives of all the warriors were up before dawn performing pujas for their husbands' well-being. Panchali, Subhadra, and Uttara lead them to the Shiva temples to pray to the god of destruction. Before the god, the Queens and wives placed their offerings and prayed for the well-being of their husbands and children. By the end of the day, some more will become widows. Some more will never come back to their families. The thought scared them. Today, Uttara was happy. Her baby moved. She could feel it. She rushed to her husband and saw him tired and asleep. She watched him sleep until Panchali called her for prayers.
When they got back, it was almost dawn, and the horses and soldiers were getting ready again. Uttara searched for her husband and found him waiting for her at their tent. He was dressed for the day in armour, holding his sword. They smiled at each other as she put vermilion on his sword and forehead.
" Return as a winner, Arya. I will wait for you."
He made her sit down and took the Churamani, the symbol of her being his, from her hands and put it on her head just like on their wedding day. Uttara hugged her husband. He touched her belly.
" I will come back really fast today. Until then, don't move and take care of your mother, son!"
He kissed his wife's forehead and then headed out towards his chariot. His mother and Panchali were applying vermilion on their husbands' foreheads and weapons. He touched their feet.
" Vijayi Bhaba Putra!" Panchali put her hand lovingly over his head. Subhadra hugged her son.
Krishna came up and hugged his nephew. Abhimanyu touched his feet.
" Fight till the very end, Putra, sometimes winning is not everything, your bravery is."
" Pitashri has told me to smile at my enemies even in death, Mamashri. That defeats them."
" Parth told the right Vatysa."

Abhimanyu rode out of the tents right after his father's chariot. The conch shells blew to start the day, and Karna attacked Arjun. On the other side, the army of Narayani Sena was ordered by the commander of the Kauravas to form the Chakravyuh and trap the Pandavas. The Chakravyuh was destroying a lot of armies, and the only warriors who knew how to break it were Arjun; they were helpless. Arjun was on the far end of the other side, having the fight of his life with Surya's son Karna. Yudhisthir looked at his helpless army of foot soldiers being crushed by the Chakravyuh, which moved towards their camp. He felt helpless. Abhimanyu pulled his chariot beside Yudhisthir's.
" Tatshri, I can break the chakravyuh. Please permit me to enter it."
" But how? Only Arjun knew it."
" Yes, He told my mother, and I learnt from the womb. But I don't know the way out. So after you get out, please help me out."
" But if you don't know it, you don't need to go; we will wait for Arjun to return."
" It will be too late, Tatshri, we can't afford to lose our army this way."
" All right, but you stay close to us. We four brothers will help you out, Putra."
Abhimanyu broke through the entrance bravely and entered. He had played with entering the Chakravyuh ever since he understood warfare. He freed his uncles from the second last spiral of the Chakra with great ease, ripping apart the Kauravas' army. They got away as he entered the centre of the Vyuh. When they turned their chariots for him, it was too late as Drona instructed them to close the Vyuh again, and Abhimanyu was trapped. Jayadratha, the brother-in-law of the Kauravas, stood with his army. No matter how much they tried, the four brothers did not get a chance to enter the Vyuh before it closed.


Abhimanyu stood bravely, aware he was alone, trapped by his enemies. He was ready to face them. The faces were familiar, cousins and uncles, but all were enemies. His cousins are Laxmana, Kritavarma, his uncles Duryodhan and Dushasan, Kripacharya, Drona, and Ashwatthama. Karna joined in informing Arjun was very busy fighting an army full of brave men. Eight Maharathi attacked the sixteen-year-old Abhimanyu together. He picked his arrow, and they broke his bow; he picked a sword, a spear and then a knife. They broke them all. Alone he fought with eight people till almost it was time for sunset. He harmed them; they harmed him more. Now, weaponless, he picked up his chariot wheel.
" I will not be defeated by you cowards! None of you could kill me alone, and you have come like a pack of wild animals."
He hurdled the wheel like Krishna's chakra, and it hit Laxmana and killed him.
" That is what you get for calling me Mitra and doing this to me. Cowards! All of you!" Abhimanyu roared at Laxmana, his cousin and husband to Balarama's daughter. They had been childhood friends.
Seeing him kill Laxmana, the Kauravas were angrier, and Kritavarma attacked him from behind. The mace hit his head, and he fainted. The Kauravas ripped him apart. He only smiled at them, not giving them the satisfaction of their kill. Outside the Vyuh, his Uncles stood helpless, crying and pleading. Before he finally lost his senses, he remembered a smiling face that said, " I will wait for you, Arya."
" Uttara!" Abhimanyu fell unconscious and took his last breath.
The news spread like wildfire about how eight Maharathi had killed one. Arjun rushed to grab his son's blood-soaked body. His rage grew. He cursed his brothers; he cursed his friend Krishna. Only he could save his son. Knowing why the Pandavas couldn't help him, all his anger was directed at Jayadrath. He wanted revenge.
Uttara was in her chambers, tying her hair neatly into a braid. "Arya will be back any minute. I have to get his medicines ready." She told her baby. Panchali entered her face calmly. " Jesth maata, have they returned?" excited, Uttara got up, but she saw Samragni's eyes. Tears swelled up. Uttara rushed out. "Arya!" In the distance, a crowd had gathered. Everyone was crying. A great warrior had met his end. She felt her legs go weak, and Panchali grabbed her. She saw Arjun and Subhadra crying over a body covered in white clothes. She knew it; she saw his armband in Subhadra's hand. She could not move. Her cry filled the night sky. It woke the sleeping Bheeshma in his shwarasajya, the Kauravas' women, and it shook the enemy camp. Subhadra now rushed to her side, and the mother consoled her. " He is there with you, in your womb, his last sign, don't cry, Uttara." Suddenly, Abhimanyu's naive, childish wife grew up. Wiping away her tears, holding his hand in hers, Uttara declared, " Set up the Pyre, he gave me Saptapadi Vachan, I am going with him, prepare for Sati." Her voice was cold. It shook the elders. The fifteen-year-old pregnant princess was going to do what many couldn't.
Uttara being Consoled
" No, you will not, the future of the Kuru Dynasty is with you, Uttara." Krishna's voice was cold.
" Take him with you, give him life, set me free, I want to go with Arya."
" He is still months away from birth; we can not do that to the child. He is our only hope."
" Hope? What about my hope? My sacrifices? Arya? " Never had anybody seen the Princess of Matsya so angry and brave. She was indeed his Ardhangini. Her anger was breaking the barriers of royal behaviour.
" Answer me, anyone, what about me?"
" You will raise his heir."
" For what, Mamashri? So that he fights for the throne like this?"
The Pandavas stood silent, ashamed at this young widow's questions. Nobody dared to talk.
" I grant you a boon, Uttara. In your next life, you will be allowed to die with him in his pyre, and you will be appreciated for your bravery like he is now. But not in this life, Putri, the future is with you." Krishna's voice was soft. Uttara hugged the ever-sleeping Abhimanyu and cried as the elders prepared for cremation. The fire burnt him to ashes. Uttara looked at the blazing fire and promised, " Wait for me, Arya. I will meet you in our next birth, I will not let you go alone then." Her baby was restless inside her. As if Abhimanyu was replying through him. She held her belly as tears fell.


Uttara being Consoled




Popular posts from this blog

Rakhi Tales

A Rakhi to the Enemy: The year was 1535 CE. The Rajmata of Mewar, widow of Rana Sanga, was in a dilemma. On one hand was an attack from Bahadur Shah of Gujarat as a threat to her capital, Chittorgarh, and the throne of her beloved teenage son Vikramaditya. On the other hand, there was the son of her husband's archenemy, Humayun, who could be of some help. Rani Karnavati wrote a letter to Humayun, who was in the east at that time. Along with it, she sent a Rakhi, a thread of brotherhood, asking him, as a sister, for protection against the enemy. But the road was too long, and time was of the essence. Humayun arrived at Chittorgarh, in response to her letter, keeping his end of the bargain but a little late. Rani Karnavati had already performed the Jauhar. They never met. Humayun established Rana Vikramaditya on the throne of Mewar, as he had promised as a brother, and returned to his post. Two dynasties, political rivals and sworn enemies, from Sanga-Babur to Pratap-Akbar and even R...

The Thirteenth Night

This is part of the "Uttara Series" You will find under the Mahabharata. The series is also available on Wattpad. The night of the Bhadra Amavasya saw a funeral pyre in the Pandavas' camp. Wails of the ladies filled the air as the young brave heart was turning into ashes. The ashes lit up a celebration in the Kauravas' camp. Duryodhan, Dushyasan, Shakuni, and Jayadrata all succeeded in their mission. Breaking the Pandavas' backbone, killing their favourite son. Karna joined in the celebrations reluctantly; he had released the boy from the pain. The face kept coming back to him. After all, he was his nephew. He shut his eyes in pain. The air tonight seemed cursed. The pyre burning made the teenage widow run towards it. She had no hope of living without him. Life was already tough; each day, he went to war with a smile on his face. She had already lost her brother. Now she had none to return home to her. "Stop!" His mother pleaded between the wails. "...

Etched In Stone

This historical short story is a fictitious account of Ashoka, the Mauryan Emperor and his first wife Devi, who finds no place in Magadhan History. There is another fiction about her in the blog as well. This story stemmed from a merge of two ideas, one was to mention the cave inscription found in Saru Maru that mentions Asoka spending some days there with his lover (presumed to be Devi), the other idea of how if words did not immortalise a lot of battles and achievements, the names of many great men would be lost in time. The prince stood on the edge of the cliff, looking at the horizon. Dawn arrived as the birds started leaving their nests, wings fluttering, eager to discover the world. He looked up at them, the thought of once again going back to exploring the length and breadth of his state making him feel a little restless as he eyed his healing wounds. He was left to die; his enemies wished so. Yet by some miracle of fate, as if his purposes were yet to be fulfilled, here he was ...

Roopmati's Renewal

The entourage was too large and extravagant for a musician. Roopmati remembered that as a child, during festivities, she would ride on her father’s shoulder to see the entourages pass by the main streets of the town nearby. She had seen many a musician. None had such a huge entourage. Roopmati frowned a little, unsurely as she took her father’s leave. His warning rang in her ears. “Remember what you do, how you behave will all come back to me.” She nodded.  The chief queen was at a loss for words. She had never seen the Sultan himself step into the Mahal to check the chambers to be allotted to one of the girls who were coming in. She was not one of the girls. She was a musician. The queens were curious. What would her position be then? She could not be a concubine, and she was not a queen. A musician in the royal palace of the ladies? Had the Sultan lost his senses? Or did he have some other agenda? If he wanted someone, he had them. He was the Sultan. There was no way he was tryin...

The Emperor's First Wife

Rukaiya Begum   Ruqaiya Sultana Begum  was born to Babur's second surviving son, Hindal Mirza, and his wife, Sultanam Begum, in 1542 C.E., merely a few months after Hamida Banu gave birth to the heir Jalaluddin Mohammad Akbar. She was well-versed in Persian, Urdu and Arabic and was attracted to poetry and music. Being a proud descendant of the Timurid clan, most of Rukaiya's childhood was spent in Kabul, near the Bagh E Babur, built by Babur himself. From early childhood, she had seen the struggle of her family to regain their lost power in Hind. In 1551 C.E., just after her father died young at a battle for Humayun, leaving her and her mother in the harem of the emperor, it was Hamida Banu who wanted the marriage of Rukaiya to her first cousin, Akbar. Theirs was the first in-house marriage of the Mughals, soon to be followed by many more in the generations to come. At the mere age of nine, she had married the crown prince, and when Humayun won back Lahore, she was fifteen. At...

The Buddhist Empress of India

Many historians believe that although Devi was the first wife of Asoka, his Buddhist queen, Asandhimitra, was not the same person. However, some also theorise based on Buddhist and Jain stories that they were in fact the same person, and the reason for that is that they don't seem to appear in the timeline together. Devi disappears when Asandhimitra arrives at the scene rather abruptly to do her charitable work. Hence, I personally believe they were one and the same. This story, however, is a retelling of folklore and not history. Please do not consider this piece of fiction as history. The whole village of Vidisha Nagari was buzzing with activity. Every home was being cleaned, and cooking preparations were underway. The youngest prince of Magadha was coming to a halt at their village on his way to Ujjain. Great unrest was reported at Ujjain, and the youngest prince, as the general of this region, was being sent by the emperor to solve the issue. The villagers were scared as the wh...

Bijolia: Her Home

Journey to Bijolia: Lost Kingdoms and Timeless Temples of Mewar Bijoliya translates to a stop between two cities. Nestled in Rajasthan’s Bhilwara district, Bijolia sits 55km from Bundi and 105km from Chittorgarh on the well-travelled Bundi-Chittorgarh road. Once part of Mewar, this seemingly sleepy town guards a rich and layered past: it was ruled from the 11th to the 13th century by the Punwars (or Parmar Rajputs) before falling under the Chauhan dynasty, who shifted the region’s capital to Bhilwara and constructed the imposing fort there. After a brief Chauhan rule, Bijolia was reclaimed by Rana Kumbha and became an integral part of the Mewar kingdom, with the Parmars serving as local Raos, representatives and stewards of the royal house. Despite its history and the famed Bijolia inscriptions (a treasure for historians), Bijolia has never found a seat on Rajasthan’s primary tourist circuit, especially if you’re venturing out by public transport or private car. While a handful of...

Mystic Murshidabad

Discovering Murshidabad: A Weekend in Bengal’s Royal Past A mere 200km from the heart of Kolkata, nestled in the historical district of Murshidabad, West Bengal, I set off for a weekend steeped in stories and grandeur. Before sharing the trip’s highlights, let me give you a quick primer on this fascinating place. Murshidabad: Where Bengal’s Destiny Changed Murshidabad, once an obscure village called Maksudabad, was transformed in 1704 when Murshid Quli Khan, Aurangzeb’s formidable general, shifted the capital of Subah Bangla from Dhaka to this very spot. The move not only brought prestige but also changed the fate of the Bengal province, stretching across present-day West Bengal, Odisha, Bihar, Jharkhand, and Bangladesh. The town was renamed after its patron, and by 1716, Murshid Quli Khan was crowned Nawab of Bengal by the Mughal Emperor. The region’s influence soon encompassed what are now the districts of Nadia and Murshidabad. Berhampore: The Modern Gateway Today, the district...

Nawab E Bengal

  Background: Nawab Alivardi Khan was ruling Bengal at the peak of Nawabi rule, expanding his strong empire. He had successfully suppressed the Marathas and had given a strong message to the British East India Company’s rising influence at Calcutta. Highly aware of the British Colonial policies across the globe, Nawab Alivardi Khan was strict with his policies and stronghold over Murshidabad, the then capital of Bengal (including present-day Bihar, Jharkhand, West Bengal, Orissa, and Bangladesh).  He had two daughters and no sons. Amina Begum was the elder one, followed by Ghaseti Begum.  Amina had three sons with her husband and courtier, Ahmed Khan. The second son, Mirza Mohammad, fondly called Siraj-Ud-Daulah (light of the country)by his grandfather, was born in 1733C.E. He was his grandfather’s  favourite  because he was born while he won over the Marathas. Alivardi Khan never let the “fortune child” of the family out of his sight. Siraj grew up accompanying...

Maharana Pratap: The Sun of Mewar

Many of you have read my fan fiction as well as historical representations of the life and times of Maharana Pratap Singh of Mewar. I provided small details of his life in many articles. But never have I ever made a separate historical post on him. It is very difficult to put together his life without the help of folklore because historical evidence is scarce. This one was requested, and hence here it goes. Needless to say, this one is very special. This is a blend of history and folklore. Leave your love. ❤️ Background and Birth: The year was 1540. Mewar was under a cloud of uncertainty. Banbir, their ruler for four years now, was a very incompetent ruler who always spent his time in luxury, drinking and dancing with girls. The crown prince Udai Singh was rumoured to have been killed by him. Chittorgarh was in darkness. Around March 1540, Mewar once again saw hope as some trusted generals, along with Kunwar Udai Singh, attacked Chittorgarh, taking Banbir by surprise. He was soon t...