Mahabharat: Shiva's Last Variable

(A/N):

Drop a meme here that you find funny. Or reflects your mood.

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After 15 minutes...

The new chamber did not feel unfamiliar which was given to him since the previous one is still out of order to be used again due to his art.

This new one. It felt... prepared.

Garments lay waiting—soft, light, touched with a quiet elegance.

Ornaments rested beside them—not heavy with power, but refined, deliberate.

Gifts from his mothers Goddess Ganga and Goddess Bhudevi

Devara dressed without hurry while humming lightly.

Today was not for armor. Not for battle.

Today—Was ritual Haldi ceremony.

When he stepped out, the courtyard had already transformed.

The Haldi ceremony began.

The golden paste—turmeric, oil, and water—glowed like sunlight held in human hands.

First—His mothers.

Goddess Ganga stepped forward, her touch gentle as flowing water.

Goddess Bhudevi followed, her hand steady, grounding.

Turmeric marked his face.

Not just for beauty.

For blessing. For protection. For transition.

Then—Rajmata Satyavati

She hesitated. Just a fraction.

But Devara has insisted them to do the cermoney.

Followed by Ambika and Ambalika

They looked unsure.

Not distant—But uncertain of their place.

Devara simply smiled. And insisted.

That was enough. They stepped forward. And joined.

The paste touched his skin again.

This time carrying something different—Acceptance.

Then came Madri

Her touch light. Thoughtful as she did her turn.

And then—The men since now it was their turn.

Bhishma, Vidura, Dhritarashtra

Less delicate. More direct instead of applying they were scoping and pasting it on his face.

A warrior’s blessing.

Laughter followed by it.

-Hahaha!!!

Guests joined in seeing Devara’s reaction as his face was covered fully in turmeric paste.

Hands marked him again and again.

Gold over skin. Gold over presence.

But Devara’s attention—Was elsewhere.

"...."

At the edge of the gathering.

A group stood.

Quiet. Watching everything. Smiling at him.

Their forms—Disguised. Perfectly. To everyone else.

But not to him.

Because disguise—Works only on those who look with eyes.

Not on those who know.

Lord Shiva, Goddess Parvati. Lord Vishnu, Goddess Lakshmi, Lord Brahma, Goddess Saraswati were the one in the group.

The Trimurti. And Their consorts.

Not as rulers of existence. As... parents.

Beside them—Kartikeya and Ganesha

And three young figures—Their sisters.

Watching him. Curious. Measuring as if they had found something new to mess with.

Their little brother.

Devara’s gaze met theirs.

"...."

The laughter of the Haldi courtyard softened as the last of the guests stepped back.

Golden traces shimmered across Devara’s skin—layer upon layer of blessing, touch, and belonging.

And yet—His gaze remained fixed.

"...."

At the edge of the gathering.

Where they stood. Watching. Smiling. Waiting.

Devara rose slightly from his seat.

Not abruptly. Not dramatically.

With quiet intent.

And then—He spoke.

"Please..."

A small pause.

"...come forward."

No names. No titles. Just respect.

For a brief moment—The group stilled hearing his request.

"...."

"...."

"...."

Because the invitation carried meaning.

He had seen them. Recognized them.

And yet—He chose silence.

Acknowledgment without revelation. A delicate balance.

Then—They stepped forward.

One by one.

Lord Brahma first he stepped forward.

A calm presence. Measured.

His hand touched Devara’s forehead lightly—Applying turmeric with the gentleness of creation itself.

"May you understand what you build."

Then—Lord Vishnu With A steady gaze. A quiet smile.

"May you protect what you choose."

Goddess Lakshmi followed—Her touch warm, graceful.

"May your home never know emptiness."

Goddess Saraswati—Light, precise.

"May your words never fail those who trust them."

Then—Lord Shiva.

He did not speak immediately.

His fingers marked Devara’s cheek with turmeric.

A faint smile—Barely there.

"Walk your path."

Simple. Because nothing more needed to be said.

Beside him—Goddess Parvati

Her touch lingered a moment longer.

"Protect what you love."

A mother’s blessing.

Then—Kartikeya

A firm, almost playful strike of turmeric across his shoulder.

"Don’t lose your edge."

Ganesha. A grin spread across his face. A soft pat on Devara’s shoulders.

-Grin!

"And try not to break too many things."

A few quiet chuckles slipped through the air.

-Chuckle!

Then—The three sisters.

They stepped forward together.

Still curious. Still observing about their new brother.

Each placed a small mark of turmeric.

Not heavy. Not formal. But... personal.

As if confirming something.

Yes.

This was him. Their brother.

When they stepped back—The moment dissolved.

To others—It was just another group of guests offering blessings.

Nothing unusual. Nothing divine.

But to Devara—It meant something else entirely.

Because in that single moment—He had stood between worlds.

The golden laughter of the groom’s courtyard slowly drifted away—Carried in trays, in songs, in blessings—Toward another heart of the palace.

Because now—It was her turn. Bride’s turn.

Gandhari sat gracefully at the center. Her hands still carried the intricate mehendi.

Her face—Calm.

But glowing with something deeper than ritual.

The turmeric from Devara’s side had arrived.

Warm. Blessed. The ceremony continued.

First—Her mother. Hands gentle as he did the start of the cermoney.

Touch lingering just a little longer than tradition required.

A mother’s silent prayer.

"...."

Then—Subala

A king. A father. His hand was firm.

But his eyes—Softened.

Because this was not politics. This was... letting go.

Then—Her brothers. One by one.

Each with a different touch.

A different smile. A different way of hiding what they felt.

Some teased. Some laughed. Some stayed quiet thinking their sister is going to leave their kingdom soon.

But all—Left their mark.

And then—The last one’s turn arrived.

Prince Shakuni The youngest of the princes of Gandhara.

He stepped forward. For once—No smirk on his face which he would usual have to tease his little sister.

No playful remark. Just... stillness.

By the weight in his shoulders as his mind was filled by the thought of his sister is going to leave their palace soon.

Gandhari looked up at him. A faint smile adorned on his face.

"Why so serious, brother?"

Prince Shakuni exhaled lightly.

"...Because this part isn’t a game."

A rare honesty. He dipped his fingers into the turmeric.

And gently—Placed it on her cheek.

Not hurried. Not teasing. Careful.

As if memorizing the moment in his mind.

"...Don’t forget us."

The words came softer than expected.

Gandhari’s smile didn’t fade.

"I won’t."

A pause.

"And you don’t forget to behave."

That earned a faint chuckle.

-Chuckle!

The tension broke. Just enough.

"...."

"...."

"...."

Prince Shakuni stepped back.

And with that—The Haldi ceremony on the bride’s side came to its close after the guest on their side finished their blessing.

The courtyard filled again with music. With laughter. With movement.

But beneath it—A quiet truth settled as soon their princess will go to the another kingdom as a queen.

The ceremony had just begun to dissolve into laughter and movement—When something unusual entered.

A female royal guard stepped forward, carrying a bouquet.

Not ordinary. Not arranged by any royal florist.

But alive in a way that drew every eye in the room.

Ten flowers which they have never looked.

Ten colors.

Each one unfamiliar. Each one impossibly perfect.

A hush fell.

"...Where did that come from?"

One of her brothers whispered curiously.

But no one answered.

"...."

"...."

"...."

Because all attention had shifted to—Princess Gandhari

She accepted the bouquet slowly. Almost carefully.

She knew it was one of her request which got fullfilled.

As if afraid it might disappear if held too tightly.

Then—She noticed the scroll. A small one.

Which Tied gently between the stems.

She untied it slowly while others waiting for what was written on it.

Opened it. And read what was written inside.

Scroll Content...

"Not from gardens walked by men,

Nor from fields where seasons bend,

These blooms were born where silence grew—

The moment water remembered you.

Ten colors, yet none can compare,

To the quiet glow you carry unaware.

For even dawn, in all its grace,

Learns gentleness from your face.

If beauty were a fleeting art,

You would be its steady heart.

If love were a path unseen—

You would be where it has been.

So come where still waters keep

The secrets that the world can’t keep—

And beneath their quiet, waiting hue,

You’ll find a gift... that belongs to you."

Scroll Content ended...

The room remained silent.

"...."

"...."

"...."

Not because they didn’t understand—But because they did.

Gandhari’s fingers tightened slightly around the scroll.

A faint blush touched her cheeks as she had read the content loudly.

"...He wrote this?"

One of her brothers leaned in.

"...He writes too? Your taste seems good them me..."

Which he received a punch by his wife on his hand. Which earned him a chuckle from everyone.

-Chuckles!

Prince Shakuni folded his arms, a smirk returning.

-Smirk!

"...Of course he does."

But even he looked impressed by the phrasing of those words.

Gandhari read the last lines again.

"Come where still waters keep..."

Her eyes lifted slightly thinking.

"...."

About The pond. The same place. Where she had playfully sparkled water on Devara’s face.

Her curiosity sparked instantly.

"...A surprise?"

Now that—Was dangerous when it comes from Devara.

Because curiosity, once awakened—Does not sit quietly.

She stood up slowly.

Still holding the bouquet. Still holding the scroll.

And somewhere beneath her calm—Excitement began to bloom.

Because this was no longer just a ritual exchange.

It was personal.

And whatever waited beneath that water—Had been made... For her in the name of the love she and he share.

The courtyard still hummed with celebration—But Gandhari had already slipped away from it.

No hesitation. No second thought.

"Guard the pond,"

She ordered lightly, already moving.

Because curiosity—When mixed with affection—Doesn’t wait for permission.

She arrived at the location.

The same place. The same water.

But something about it... felt different.

The surface shimmered more vividly.

The breeze carried a softer scent.

And without pause—She stepped in.

Then—Jumped into the stilled water.

The water embraced her—Cool. Clear. Alive.

She swam deeper into the pond.

And then—She saw it. Not just flowers.

An entire garden.

Blooming beneath the water. Colors she had never seen.

Petals that shimmered like light caught in motion.

Soft currents moving them like they were breathing.

It didn’t feel like a pond anymore. It felt like...

Something sacred. Something made—Not for the world.

But for a moment. For her.

Her eyes widened.Her movements slowed.

She forgot. Forgot to move. Forgot to think.

Even forgot—That she was holding her breathing.

And then—Reality tugged her back.

She rushed upward.

Breaking the surface—Gasping.

-Gasp!

Air filled her lungs again.

But her heart—Was still down there.

Her cheeks flushed softly. Not from the water.

"...."

From what she had just seen.

"...He did this... no our love did this..."

The words barely escaped her.

She looked back at the surface—As if expecting it to disappear.

But it didn’t. It remained.

Waiting. Her lips curved into a smile.

"...."

Not wide. Not loud. But real.

Because this—Was not just a gift.

It was effort of their love. Understanding.

And something else—Something deeper.

He hadn’t just brought her flowers.

He had created a place with their love—Where those flowers could live.

For her.

Gandhari pressed the bouquet gently against her chest which she was still holding in her hands.

"...."

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(Author note:)

I hope you guys give me your opinion and idea’s.

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