From the squint of her eye, Bhanumati could see through Lakshmana’s heart. She bore much resemblance to her father, Duryodhan. Just like him, her gait spoke of her emotional state. Holding her wrist, and running a loving palm on her cheeks, she asked,

“What thought is keeping my daughter so occupied that she doesn’t even see her mother in the chamber?”

Lakshmana’s eyes ran over Bhanumati’s face. Devoid of adorations, pristine and white. She lowered her eyes, feeling the pang of the void that the death of her father had left in their heart.

“Maa! Life has been very difficult for you and it still is.” empathized Lakshmana.

Faking a smile Bhanumati asked,

“What makes you say that?”

“Maa, the world saw my father, Duryodhan, as a villain. The history of Hastinapur and Mahabharata writes him as an antagonist, adharmic. His death is grieved less and more joyed. It must have affected you, right?”

“Yes, it did! It did for a while. It affected the queen of Hastinapur, not his wife. He was an Adharmi in the eyes of the moralists. He was a villain in the eyes of his enemies. He was an antagonist for those with whom his ideologies were in a clash. History writes him only through the ink of his political career, his defeat and his misdeeds.”

“And how do you see him, mother?” Lakshmana prompted.

“I see him through the eyes of a wife. He was the most loving man. A man with tough shoulders and a soft heart. When he had forcefully abducted me from the Swayambar, I was furious and hated him to the core. But when he politely bared his heart, expressing his love for me at first sight, when he had reasoned that my abduction was the only resort left to him and that he didn’t want to lose me to anyone, I was able to see his intentions and not judge his actions. He married me only after winning my love. He had wooed me for days, had won my trust and promised to be a one-woman man all life. And he did too. He was a gentleman, true to his love and soul.”

“You call him a gentleman, even though he called Mata Draupadi names and mistreated her publicly in vulgar ways?”

“Yes, I was angry, very angry. I had lashed at him for doing this to a woman. My blood had boiled. But he had sternly reasoned that it was a political move, an act of vengeance against her mocking and bullying him, calling him a blind man’s son. A repercussion Draupadi faced for using her tongue loosely.”

Bhanumati continued,

“Lakshmana, however, the history might portray him, but to me, his wife, he will always be a hero, the victorious king of my heart. Although the world saw him as an egoist, I knew that his ego was a defense against the unfair world. Also, your father was merely a pawn in the hands of his maternal uncle Shakuni, who harbored grievances against Hastinapur and Pitamaha Bhishma and used your father to seek his revenge.”

“Didn’t his short temper or reactive nature ever scare you and keep you edgy?” intrigued Lakshmana.

“Initially it did. When I saw him behave like that with others, it feared me. But as years passed, I realized my fears were irrelevant. For he was never that to me or to the people he loved. I recall this incident. Once he was away at war for a few days. He had asked Karan to keep me company and take care of me. I and Karna were lost in playing a game of dice, I was on the losing side. So I was irritated and got up to leave for quits. But Karan grabbed my wrist to stop, asking to complete the game. In doing so my long pearl necklace, entangled in his hand and it broke, scattering the beads all over. At that instant, your father entered. I and Karna were taken aback. We felt Duryodhan may misunderstand and misjudge us. But to our surprise, he picked up all the pearls and joked, “Should I bead them too?” after that incident, my fears were gone. I had a glimpse of his heart that was filled with faith for his wife and his friend.”

Seeing her father through the eyes of her mother, Lakshmana realized that a man can never be painted in just black or white, that there were reasons to justify his father’s actions. She hugged her mother tight. Her chest bloated with pride for her father. She walked out of her mother’s chamber with a light heart, as silent tears of love trickled down Bhanumati’s eye.