Ajit was afraid of the light. He
was mortally terrified of it. He couldn’t place a finger on the ‘when’ or the
‘why’ he developed this fear. But he knew he would be destroyed the moment he
stepped into the light. He preferred waiting in the dark, like a serpent.
But now, as he lay on the moist
soil waiting for a quick death, the light didn’t seem to bother him anymore.
Perhaps it was the excruciating pain in his legs that made him overcome his
fear. He had long abandoned the efforts to stand up on his feet. They were
useless now. And he knew very well who was to be blamed for it.
***
“Die, you swine!” Pawan’s
son had screamed in rage as he swung his weapon for the last time.
“Coward” bellowed Ajit as
he crashed to the ground like a mighty tree. It was pain like he had never felt
before. Perhaps, only the pain of being treated like a villain came close.
The impending death did little to
quench his desire for vengeance. He couldn’t bear the humiliation any more. But
there was very little he could do now.
“Look, how the mighty have
fallen!” mocked his oppressor.
“You are enjoying this, aren’t you?”
gasped Ajit.
“Every moment of it. Oh, you can’t
even begin to imagine. Rot in hell, oh king of the world!” he laughed as
he wiped the bloody sweat from his brow and flicked it on Ajit’s face. And he
walked away leaving Ajit to die.
***
His words enraged Ajit further.
He tried to get up again. It was in vain. The pain killed him, bit by bit. He
felt foolish. He should have finished him when he had the chance. Searing pain shot
through his body and he twitched violently. He screamed again. But no one could
hear his lament.
How he wished Pawan’s son would
have just killed him! He had left him worse than a corpse.
“Its only fair. Now all you can
hope to do is repent” Shyam had said. Ajit laughed like a rabid dog at
Shyam’s comment.
“Fairness. The word loses its
essence coming from your wretched mouth. Do not forget, I could have crushed
you like an ant long ago. You live because I chose to let you.” Ajit
managed to put up a brave face. He was not going to give Shyam the pleasure of
watching him die a broken man.
He wished he could just get
enough strength in his legs to destroy Shyam – the forever smirking devil. He
was the main conspirator after all. He coughed blood as his lungs gasped for
air. His throat felt parched. But there was no one around to give him a few
drops.
He felt wronged. He cried at the
injustice everyone had done to him. He had been a good man, a devoted son, a
loyal friend, a powerful man, the greatest warrior. He had been his own master.
He had made it this far despite being wronged by his own people. And yet he was
subjected to this humiliation- by his family, his enemies, and now, by death
itself.
“If only Vasu was here” he thought. Vasu
– his only friend. He too had left him.
It was perhaps the impending
death that made his entire life flash in front of his eyes. And his mind
stopped at the moment which had caused this calamity today. Had he been wrong? He
had insulted a woman. Perhaps the only moment he had erred. And if it wasn’t
for his mistake, he would have been the one standing over the corpses of his
enemies and laughing at them.
But if he really was wrong, why
hadn’t anyone stopped him then? Why had everyone been silent? Perhaps he was right after all. A woman who
lived with 5 men deserved to be humiliated. She deserved to be treated like a
slave. She deserved to be disrobed. After all wasn’t she the one who had
taunted him in the first place? Such audacity! Yes, the whore deserved to be
punished.
As he closed his eyes he could
hear himself laughing and mocking Draupadi. She was after all his servant. It
was her duty to obey him, to satisfy him. She was his trophy. He had won her in
all fairness. And he could treat her the way he wanted. He could see himself
slapping his thigh and inviting her to sit on it. He could hear his brothers
egging him on. He could hear Vasu, his dear Karna slap his back in
encouragement. And he could hear Bheema bellow in fury as he vowed to smash
those very thighs one day.
Bheema, the son of Pawan, had
kept his promise. Goaded by Shyam, Bheema had broken the rules of battle as he
smashed Ajit’s thighs with his mace. And he had finally managed to defeat Duryodhana,
the unconquerable one – Ajit!
<blockquote>
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<p style="text-align: center;">This post is part of <span style="color: #800000;"><strong><a title="Contest 9 | WriteUpCafe.com" href="http://www.writeupcafe.com/contest/9" target="_blank">A significant turn..</a> </strong><span style="color: #000000;">on</span><strong> <a title="WriteUpCafe.com" href="http://www.writeupcafe.com/" target="_blank">WriteUpCafe.com</a></strong><
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