Krishnaa came to me after the war as I rested

  beneath the Kadamb tree in the gardens of

  Hastinapur. Yudhishtir had been crowned

  King. The Kaurava's were dead except for

  one of all the brothers of Duryodhana; only

  Yuyutsu survived. Their mother, Gandhari,

  cursed me, in anguish, in pain, heartbroken at

  such a terrible loss. She wished my people a

  death as painful as that of her sons. She

  called me the architect of death. I did not

  have the heart to remind her that I strived to

  counsel Duryodhana, begged him to do the

  right thing, give the Pandava brothers their

  right, their land, but to no avail. I accepted

  her words with equanimity. I too had a price

  to pay.

  Lying in the shade of the Kadamb, aware

  that the mother who lost her sons had voiced

  a prophecy that would come to pass only too

  soon, I tried to go back to the Kadam tree of

  my childhood. This tree was not the one

  beneath which Radha swayed to my music,

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  and I felt the familiar ache of lost love.

  She came to Dwarka sometimes and stayed

  in the more spartan rooms of my palace. I

  knew that, but she never wanted to meet me,

  and though I did not talk of it, it hurt. I

  wanted to play the bansuri again. I wanted to

  chat with Sudama on the stone steps of the

  Gomti Kund. I wanted… to not think for the

  millionth fraction of a second. Still, I opened

  my eyes for Krishnaa, who approached my

  apparent solitary self and sat down on the

  grass next to me, forgetting that she was the

  queen of Hastinapur now and it would be

  deemed unbecoming.

  Krishnaa sat in silence, her eyes grazed over

  some distant shrubs, they wandered up

  staring into the leaves that clung to the

  branches, they fell on me, looking into me, at

  me, and then coming to rest on the knot of

  wood near the roots. I remembered how her

  eyes used to blaze forth, alive, lit up, on fire,

  in anger, with joy. The fire was gone now.

  The Mahabharata did not end with the death

  of kings and princes alone. The victors also

  lost a part of their soul

  Yudhishtir ruled for thirty-six years. He was

  kind, just, and wise. His brothers were his

  strength. Krishnaa and I remained the best of

  friends.