The Differing Narratives

“Drona is a classic example of wisdom wasted until it is required for all the wrong reasons. Only when he was poverty-stricken, taunted by his wife over his pauperism, grieved over the fact that he couldn’t afford milk for his only son; did he remember a ‘friend’ he didn’t bother visiting for years. Forgotten years of claimed ‘friendship’, accumulated like mosquitoes near a jar of honey.”

“Exactly. A wastrel of its purest kind”, spitted out Dhri angrily.

Draupadi listened to Guru Padampara’s words as intently as possible. She knew his speech by heart, had his pauses mugged and watched Dhri’s hate towards Drona grow with every narration of the same story heard before every sunrise. Yet, the story fascinated her. Was it because her loving father played a part in it? Or was it the metaphors used by Guru Padamapara? Was it his riveting tone and passion-filled voice?

Or was it because she loved to hate Drona too, like Dhri?

Dhri. Dhrishtadyumna. Her brother. The one who shared the same womb with her, at the same time. The womb of fire. The one who was prophesized to change the fate of Paanchal. The one who was to avenge the insult of their father. The one who tirelessly learnt how to use every weapon against Drona, including a thorn. The one who woke before sunrise and led a disturbed sleep for just three hours through the course of the night, fantasizing about killing Drona and avenging our father’s insult.

The one wanted to end the story of milk with blood on his hands.

The blood of Drona.

 “His desire for revenge was so strong that he didn’t refrain from asking the vilest form of Gurudakshina from a student; which was the head of a defeated man. The man he claimed to be his friend just a few years ago. Hateful years which accumulated like hair in the comb of a woman.”

Draupadi let the jibe against womankind pass, as usual. Dhri didn’t seem to notice the remark, his anger against Drona growing as they reached the climax. Draupadi couldn’t help but notice loopholes in the narrative, which she didn’t openly question. Was it right for her father to insult a man of wisdom, knowledge, strength and family in the court of Kampilya, irrespective of whether they were friends or not? And why did Guru Padamapara say that their father felt guilty after insulting Drona if they weren’t friends?

For the sake of her brother’s destiny, she put her questions aside and let her hate against Drona brew.

‘You may leave. The narration is over. It’s time for your brother’s archery class.’, said Guru Padamapara, dismissing her without a glance.

Realizing that she missed the rest of the narration in her musings of loopholes, Draupadi bowed to Guru and hurried off. Noticing that her unruly hair was coming off the locks made by her sleepy Sairindhri (hairdresser), she decided to get it fixed before having her breakfast. As she walked towards her room, she noticed her Sairindhri chatting with her friends.

“Ordering maids is part of being a princess”, told her mother the day she was pulled out of the fire by Dhri. It was the one lesson Draupadi found hard to learn. Unsure and hesitant about the rules of the world, she decided to wait till her maid was done chatting.

However, she could hear the hushed gossip.

“It’s brainwashing. The classes the prince and princess have early in the morning. Guru Drona was right in what he did. A friend who he trusted with his honour; the friend who had promised to give him half his wealth had humiliated and disgraced him. The King had called him a beggar in front of all the ministers of Kampilya court. What else could a self-respecting and proud man do to avenge his insult?”

Anger rose like fire in Draupadi’s mouth. Crushing the pillar to release the irritation she felt, she stood mute, listening to those horrendous words spoken against her father, the king of the Paanchal, under whose protection Sairindhri lived and abused.

“If the king felt guilty about what he did, why does he hate Drona for defeating him? Drona defeated him morally and rightfully. He also had the generosity to give the king half of his kingdom. And how did our king repay such generosity? By creating a human weapon to defeat a nobleman.

Unlike the prince, the princess has a lot of questions about the truth. I can sense it when she comes back with doubtful eyes after every narration. She doesn’t believe in the class divide, so she finds it difficult to accept the lies of that brainwashing Guru wholeheartedly”

Unable to bear the insult of her father; brother and Guru, Draupadi stepped away from the pillar. Seeing her, the group disintegrated like flames of a dying fire. Hastily welcoming her and guiding her to the princess’s room, Draupadi moved her legs forward, although her mind seemed frozen with the words she just heard.

Feeling her anger ebbing away, Draupadi realized that these were the answers she was looking for in every narration. Although the maid’s narrative had loopholes too, the princess of Paanchal realized that although the core values of humanity remain the same, differing narratives play an important role in different opinions.

If she heard Sairindhri story daily, she would have thought King Drupad was a villain. If she heard Guru Padampara’s narrative daily without applying her mind to it, she would have believed that Drona is the vilest scum on earth.

Touching her well-plaited hair, she looked into the guilty eyes of Sairindhri. Giving her a warm smile, Draupadi realized that she learnt a valuable lesson today.

Drona’s act of splitting Paanchal into two halves could be seen as a sign of generosity or perceived as pride in avenging his insult.

The narrative is all that matters in creating an opinion.