12."Shadows of Revelation"

Beware the company of those whose eyes are veiled by the shadows of pessimism, for they see not the light in any solution, but rather dwell incessantly on the darkness of every problem. Their presence, like a tempest looming on the horizon, threatens to engulf your spirit in a whirlwind of doubt and despair. Choose instead the companionship of those who, like beacons in the night, illuminate the path forward with optimism and resilience, guiding you through the storms of life with unwavering hope.

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Avalok POV

As I stood amidst the opulence of the palace, my attention was captivated by the unmistakable figures of Gandhar Raj Shakuni and the formidable Suyodhana, known to many as Duryodhana. Their presence exuded an aura of authority and intrigue, drawing the gaze of all who crossed their path.

Shakuni's piercing gaze fixed upon the Pandavs, his words dripping with subtle venom as he unveiled the bitter truth of their existence. "These are the Pandavs," he declared, his voice laced with contempt. "The five Pandavs, whose very presence has thwarted your rightful claim to the throne."

Suyodhana's fury ignited like a wildfire, his pride wounded by the reminder of his dashed ambitions. "But you yourself advised Maharaja Dhritarashtra against my coronation," he countered, his voice trembling with suppressed rage.

A solemn expression washed over Shakuni's face, his eyes betraying a deeper understanding of the intricate web of palace politics. "My dear Suyodhana," he began, his tone grave yet calculated. "I spoke those words out of necessity, for the old lion Bhishma's loyalty to the Pandavs is unwavering. And Vidur, the offspring of a mere maid, dares to stand in our path."

Leaning in closer, Shakuni's voice lowered to a conspiratorial whisper, his words a potent brew of manipulation and malice. "Never forget, they are not your brothers but your enemies," he hissed, each syllable laden with sinister intent. "Enemies who must be dealt with accordingly."

Suyodhana's gaze hardened as he turned towards the Pandavs, his eyes ablaze with a mixture of anger and disdain. In that moment, I felt the weight of his animosity bearing down upon me, a mere spectator caught in the crossfire of rivalries.

Suddenly, Shakuni's gaze shifted towards me, his eyes alight with mischief and intrigue. Our eyes met in a silent exchange, a dance of hidden motives and unspoken truths. With a playful smile, I acknowledged his presence, sending a ripple of uncertainty coursing through his veins.

With a subtle gesture, he grasped Suyodhana's hand, leading him away from the prying eyes of onlookers. And as they disappeared into the shadows of the palace, I couldn't help but wonder what other secrets lay buried within its hallowed halls.

As Bhishma's resonant voice echoed through the air, I couldn't help but feel a shiver of apprehension at being called out. With a quick glance around, I realized that I had been lingering behind, lost in my own thoughts and observing the scene unfolding around us.

"Hurry up, prince Avalok," Bhishma's voice carried a hint of impatience, urging me to join the group as they made their way towards the palace gates. The weight of his authority was palpable, and I hastened to fall into step behind him, my steps quickening to catch up.

As we walked, I couldn't help but overhear snippets of conversation from the attendants who had been assigned by Queen Gandhari to escort the Pandavas into the palace. They chatted amongst themselves in hushed tones, their eyes darting around with a mixture of awe and confusion at the grandeur of their surroundings.

Among them stood a sturdy figure, his physique betraying his occupation even in the midst of his duties as an attendant.

Bheem's towering frame cast a formidable presence as he gazed upon the attendant with a mixture of curiosity and intrigue. "Are you a wrestler, attendant?" he inquired, his voice resonating with the raw power that lay dormant within him.

The attendant, a burly figure with sinewy muscles and a weathered countenance, met Bheem's gaze with a nod of affirmation. "Yes, Prince Bheem, I am indeed a wrestler hailing from the lands of Magadh," he replied, his voice tinged with a hint of pride. "I reside here in the quarters designated for Magadhis within the palace grounds."

Intrigued by the prospect of learning from a practitioner of a different wrestling style, Bheem's eyes sparkled with anticipation as he posed his next question. "Would you be willing to impart some of your wrestling wisdom to me?" he asked, his tone eager and earnest.

The attendant's response was cautious yet receptive, his brow furrowing slightly as he weighed Bheem's request against the traditions of his homeland. "Prince Bheem, while I am honored by your interest, I must caution you that the wrestling style practiced in Magadh is quite different from what you may be accustomed to," he explained. "We engage in a lively and rural form of wrestling, where we apply oil and soil to our bodies to enhance our grip and agility."

Undeterred by the unfamiliarity of the Magadhi wrestling style, Bheem's enthusiasm remained undiminished as he considered the attendant's words. "I understand the differences, but I believe that learning from diverse traditions can only enrich one's skills," he declared, his voice unwavering in its conviction. "Who knows when such knowledge might prove invaluable, especially if I were to find myself in the lands of Magadh facing a skilled opponent?"

The attendant's gaze softened at Bheem's earnestness, a flicker of admiration shining in his eyes as he regarded the young prince before him. "Your humility and open-mindedness do you credit, Prince Bheem," he remarked, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. "If you are truly determined to learn, then I would be honored to share what I can of the wrestling traditions of my homeland."

As they approached the grand staircase leading to the palace, a throng of boys materialized before them, their youthful energy palpable in the air. Sensing the impending excitement, Avalok couldn't help but comment with a mischievous grin, "This is going to be interesting."

Bhishma, standing nearby, caught wind of Avalok's remark and inquired, "What is interesting, Prince Avalok?" His tone was laced with curiosity as he followed Avalok's gaze towards the gathering of boys.

With a playful twinkle in his eye, Avalok pointed towards the direction of the Pandavas, prompting Bhishma to turn his attention towards the unfolding scene. As they observed, the boys surrounding the Pandavas began to stir, their chatter rising to a crescendo of anticipation.

Amidst the commotion, Sushasana, one of the Kauravas, stepped forward with an air of authority, addressing the attendant with a demand that cut through the din. "Attendants, you have finally come. Now, hurry up and bring our footwear," he commanded, his tone brimming with entitlement.

The attendant, recognizing the authority of Bhishma, responded with deference, "At the orders of Mahamahim, we are now attending to these princes, Prince Sushasana." His words were measured, a subtle reminder of the hierarchy that governed their interactions.

However, Sushasana's temper flared at the perceived insubordination, his voice rising in anger as he lashed out at the attendant. "I'm not talking to you, attendant," he snapped, his gaze narrowing in disdain.

Turning his attention to the Pandavas, Sushasana's words dripped with contempt as he addressed them directly. "I'm talking to these five attendants, the ones who are friends with the servants. They are no better than servants themselves," he declared, his tone laced with superiority.

The other Kauravas, emboldened by Sushasana's display of authority, joined in with mocking laughter, their voices echoing off the palace walls. "Come on, greet us," one of them jeered, his words punctuated by the raucous laughter of his companions.

Caught in the midst of the brewing confrontation, Avalok observed the scene with a mixture of curiosity and concern, his mind racing with thoughts of how to defuse the tension before it escalated further. Beside him, Bhishma remained stoic, his gaze fixed upon the unfolding drama with a keen sense of observation.

As Yudhishtir acknowledged Sushasana's demand with a calm demeanor, his words held a sense of respect for tradition and hierarchy. "Of course," he replied, his voice steady and composed.

Turning to Nakul and Sahadev, Yudhishtir conveyed his expectations with a tone of authority tinged with familial duty. "Nakul and Sahadev, Sushasana is elder to you. Greet him. It's a must for the younger ones to greet the elders," he instructed, emphasizing the importance of adherence to social norms and customs.

However, before Nakul and Sahadev could respond, the commanding voice of Suyodhana, also known as Duryodhana, cut through the air, challenging the very foundation of Yudhishtir's directive. "It's not a matter of being elder," he declared, his words carrying the weight of assertion as he approached Yudhishtir with an air of confidence.

Drawing himself up to his full height, Suyodhana continued, his gaze locking with Yudhishtir's as he asserted his belief in the superiority of the Kauravas. "It's about superiority and inferiority. The sons of King Dhritarashtra never greet anyone; rather, everyone else greets us. All five of you will greet the hundred of us, right now and forever after. Pay your respect to the sons of the king," he proclaimed, his voice resonating with authority and entitlement.

Bheem, never one to back down from a challenge, interjected with a defiant tone, his words laden with pride and defiance. "Even we are the sons of the king," he retorted, his voice carrying the weight of his lineage and heritage.

Sushasana, quick to dismiss Bheem's assertion, responded with a sneer, seeking to undermine the legitimacy of their claim to royalty. "Your father was the king of the woods. He used to rule over animals and birds," he taunted, his words dripping with disdain.

The Kauravas, emboldened by Sushasana's mockery, erupted into laughter, their voices echoing off the palace walls as they reveled in their perceived superiority.

Bheem's anger flared at Sushasana's insolence, his voice laced with indignation as he fiercely defended his family's honor. "The coronation ceremony in Hastinapur was conducted for our father. If you have any doubts, then inquire about it," he declared, his words ringing with conviction and defiance.

However, Yudhishtir, ever the voice of reason and restraint, intervened before the situation could escalate further. With a calm demeanor and measured tone, he addressed Bheem, seeking to quell the rising tension. "Bheem, don't argue. We will greet them as per tradition. But remember, the one who doesn't have the right to be greeted becomes a sinner if he is greeted," he cautioned, his words carrying the weight of moral responsibility and ethical consideration.

Suyodhana, undeterred by Yudhishtir's admonition, seized the opportunity to assert his claim to superiority. "Doesn't the prince have the right to be greeted?" he challenged, his voice dripping with entitlement and arrogance.

Arjuna, never one to mince words, responded sharply to Suyodhana's provocation. "There's only one prince in the kingdom," he retorted, his tone firm and unwavering.

Unfazed by Arjuna's rebuttal, Suyodhana doubled down on his assertion, his confidence unshaken. "And there is only one prince, and that's me. My younger brothers will greet all of you, but before that, Yudhishtir should greet me first," he declared, his voice brimming with self-assurance and entitlement.

Arjuna, sensing an opportunity to challenge Suyodhana's claim, pressed further, his words cutting through the air with a hint of skepticism. "Has the coronation ceremony been conducted for you, Brother Suyodhana? When?" he inquired, his gaze piercing as he awaited Suyodhana's response.

Suyodhana, unflinching in his resolve, dismissed Arjuna's inquiry with a wave of his hand, his confidence unwavering. "I don't require a coronation. It's my birthright to be enthroned as the prince," he asserted, his words carrying the weight of generations of entitlement and privilege.

As I observed the unfolding dynamics between the young princes and the Kauravas, a sense of gravity settled over me. Turning to Bhishma, whose presence exuded wisdom and authority, I couldn't help but remark on the unfolding drama before us.

"You have quite the selection of candidates for the Hastinapur throne," I remarked, my tone measured as I sought to engage Bhishma in conversation.

Bhishma, ever vigilant and perceptive, met my gaze with a heavy expression, his voice tinged with concern. "What do you mean, say it clearly," he implored, his words carrying the weight of anticipation.

Gathering my thoughts, I adopted a serious demeanor, fixing my gaze on Bhishma as I articulated my observations. "The throne of Hastinapur holds the fate not only of its people but also of the entire Aryavart. Yet, as I look upon the young princes before us, I struggle to see anyone truly worthy of ascending to that esteemed position. And I believe you share this sentiment, Mahamahim Bhishma," I stated, my words punctuated by a sense of urgency.

Bhishma's expression grew somber as he absorbed my assessment, his eyes reflecting a depth of understanding. "Prince Avalok, I am aware of the gravity of the situation. However, we must work with what we have. I see potential in Yudhishtir; I believe he has the capacity to become a great ruler. At present, he may be our best option," Bhishma responded, his voice laden with responsibility and resolve.

As Bhishma spoke, I couldn't help but feel a pang of apprehension at the prospect of entrusting the future of Hastinapur to uncertain hands. Yet, I knew that in times of uncertainty, decisive action was imperative.

However, my attention was momentarily diverted as I noticed Kunti making her way towards the temple, her graceful demeanor belying the gravity of the situation at hand. Sensing my distraction, Bhishma questioned my focus, prompting me to explain my contemplation.

"Mahamahim Bhishma, have you ever noticed how with time comes a sort of retrospective wisdom?" I began, my tone introspective as I sought to convey a deeper insight. "Looking back, we often realize the lessons we've learned from our past mistakes. And when those mistakes resurface in the present, it's not merely a blast from the past; it's an opportunity—an opportunity to rectify our errors, to make amends, and to forge a path towards a brighter future," I continued, my words resonating with a sense of conviction.

Taking a moment to let my words sink in, I emphasized the importance of seizing such opportunities for growth and transformation. "We have the power to change our circumstances for the better, Mahamahim Bhishma. We must embrace this opportunity and navigate the challenges ahead with wisdom and determination," I concluded, my gaze meeting Bhishma's with unwavering resolve.

As Bhishma's eyes widened in surprise and he made a motion to move in Kunti's direction, I instinctively reached out and gently grasped his hand, halting his movement. The look of astonishment on Bhishma's face was palpable, his confusion evident as he struggled to comprehend how a mere five-year-old child could impede his actions.

Sensing his bewilderment, I met his gaze with a calm demeanor, my expression resolute yet composed. "Don't be impatient, Mahamahim Bhishma," I began, my voice steady as I sought to convey a sense of reason. "There is a reason why certain truths are concealed from others. Before taking any decisive action, we must first understand the underlying reasons behind these choices. And when it comes to the task of selecting a rightful heir to the throne, it requires more than just a title—it requires an understanding of the responsibilities and duties that come with such a position. And for that, time is of the essence," I explained, my words imbued with a sense of wisdom beyond my years.

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