Prologue It was another evening. It was nothing out of the ordinary. Ridhima was exhausted. Weariness had become her loyal companion lately. Enthusiasm seeped out of her existence. She felt like a robot repeating the same tasks over and over again. The rickety evening gently faded away. Greyish hues replaced the purple. Something was different about the night. There was no moon. But the sky was bright. Ridhima was unaware of the transformation her life was about to undergo. She was about to meet someone special. Chapter 1 – The Stranger Enters  A symphony of street lamps brightened the night sky. The stars formed an illuminating mosaic playing proxy for the missing moon. Ridhima carried her woozy self to the room. She crashed on the couch by the bassinet. A prickly sensation made her puffy eyes water. Weariness seeped deep into her bones. She slouched. Her eyelids drooped with heaviness. Sleep eluded her. She looked at the mirror. The darkness that once engulfed her eyes now spread its wings over her face. Her baby was asleep without a worry in the world. She closed her eyes and hoped that sleep would embrace her. But in vain. A book glowed under the bedside lamp. Bending forward, she reached for it. She ran her fingers on the title 'The Palace of Illusions'. Her muscles twitched in fatigue. Her mind tried to focus on the words printed in black.  Minutes went by. Words kept her engrossed.  The drapes fluttered. The light flickered. Her baby's coo was loud and clear in the night's silence. A warm smile spread across her face. "Your smile is radiant." She heard a voice.  A svelte woman, clad in a red-colored saree sat by her side. Her dusky skin was lustrous. Her large, lotus-shaped eyes dispelled the darkness. There was a divine aura around her. A strange yet unique fragrance lingered around her. The woman didn’t wear the fragrance. It came from within. But beneath those glimmering eyes was hidden sadness. Ridhima sat upright and looked at the woman keenly. The book lay firm in her grasp. A mysterious woman appeared out of nowhere. But Ridhima sat unperturbed. She felt comfortable around her. It was a weird yet real feeling. "You look tired," The woman spoke again. Reality sank within Ridhima. Questions fluttered in her mind. Who was the woman? How did she enter the house? Was she a supernatural force? A ghost? She shuddered at the last thought. Scanning the woman from head to toe, Ridhima stuttered, "Who are you? How did you..." The woman gestured to her to stop. The way the woman conducted herself gave out royal vibes. "One question at a time," the woman chuckled. She walked around the room and displayed her grandeur. "I'm Draupadi." Moments later, she revealed pride floating in her eyes.  It felt like the curtain rose. Ridhima's eyes widened, light flickering in the corners. Her mouth hung ajar. With her eyes still blinking, she sat at the edge of the couch.  Executing caution, she felt the woman's skin. It was soft like silk. Ridhima felt like the woman would melt like butter sizzling on a pan under excess pressure. The initial surprise fizzled out. The woman was akin to the description in many books. "Don't let my subtle exterior fool you. I'm as gritty as steel and hard like diamond." Fire flashed in the woman's eyes. "You are Draupadi. The Empress. Arjun's wife." Ridhima froze. She didn't know if it was real. But she had a lot to ask the Paanchal princess.  "I'm the wife of the Pandava brothers. Calling me Arjun's wife is injustice to the others," said Draupadi.  "I always see you as only Arjun's wife. I can't say why," blurted Ridhima. Draupadi's eyes fluttered. Her lips stretched in contemplation. Ridhima lowered her eyes. Her nails stabbed the fabric lining the couch.  "It was Arjun I fell in love with. Getting married to his brothers was destiny." Draupadi's fierce eyes softened.  "I have read many books about you. I'm your fan. If I may say so," Ridhima changed the topic. Her effort didn't go unnoticed. "I'm flattered. Not everyone likes me," Draupadi blushed.  The women sat in silence for a few minutes. Fatigue penetrated deep into Ridhima like flesh-eating bacteria. She stretched her feet. Her head rested on a pillow.  "You need to unwind," spoke Draupadi, her eyes fixed on the tiny form in the bassinet. "I wish I could. But I have an overflowing plate. My daughter is sick. My husband is out of town for work. I have stopped expecting help from my extended family. Work is no better. Targets loom on my head like a sword. Sleep has become my arch-enemy. I'm all alone." Bitterness floated in Ridhima's mouth.  "Aren't we all?" Draupadi looked at her intently. She stood up. Her fingers caressed the baby's forehead and cheeks. She walked to the window and looked at the stars. "For most of my life, I was alone. Especially during those times when I needed my loved ones the most. Remember, the gaming convention." Draupadi shut her eyes. The blood vessels under her skin thickened. Her face turned red. She was reminiscing about the harrowing experience again.  "My valorous husbands. Wise men. The great Bhishma. The wise Vidhur. Everyone failed me. Their sly looks ripped my soul apart. Everyone witnessed the incident in stark silence." It felt like her eyes could set everything ablaze. "What about the day Jayadrath tried to abduct me from the forest? I was alone then. I am alone now. Every woman is alone. All she ever has is herself. Incidents traumatize us. But we emerge stronger all the time." Words thundered across the room.  Ridhima shook. She looked at her baby. Draupadi's voice didn't wake her up. "No one but you can hear me." Draupadi mellowed.  Ridhima nodded in contemplation, trying to assimilate whatever she had just heard. Her mind turned hazy. Sleep came to her. But she kept her eyes wide open. She had a lot to talk about. To ask and learn. "You need to sleep," Draupadi's eyes were calm like the sea. The queen surprised her. At one instance, it felt like her wrath would destroy everything. The next second, she was composed. Her serenity was akin to the notes of a violin. Her enigmatic persona intrigued Ridhima. She couldn't let her go. "You will disappear the moment I close my eyes." Draupadi smiled on hearing Ridhima's croaky voice. "I'm on a holiday, away from all the responsibilities. I'm not going anywhere. Not until you let me go." The woman was a real queen at heart.  Chapter 2 –  The Day Unfolds Warm rays peeked through the clouds. Ridhima stretched her arms and groaned. It was a little after seven. She slowly sat up and tied her hair into a bun. Bangles jingled at a distance. It felt like someone played a saxophone. A comforting breeze wafted through the windows. Her princess clung to the lotus-eyed woman's bosom. Contentment rushed over her. It was a long time since she got a good night's sleep. Her phone beeped.  "Meeting at 10." The message read. The juggle began.  "Good morning, Your Highness," Ridhima beamed.  "She slept through the night. So did I," Ridhima clapped her hands.  "You deserve it. Now get to work," Draupadi placed the baby in Ridhima's arms.  Ridhima kissed the baby on her forehead. With her index finger, she played with her baby's nose. Two teeth flashed at her. Warmth filled her heart.  "This is the toughest part of my day. I feel like someone is wringing my heart each time I leave her in the nanny's care." Her eyes turned moist.  Draupadi nodded understandingly.  "It must have been tough for you too. Leaving your kids for thirteen years..." She stopped mid-sentence. "And, returning to them only to watch them die in their sleep." Draupadi's voice quivered.  Ridhima pictured five young men slathered in blood. The warrior princes had succumbed to the evil plot of a coward. Thick beads formed on her forehead. She held her baby tightly. Tears landed on the naive pink cheeks.  "We are all bound by duty. Sometimes, duty defines our life. It tells who we are. Pain and sacrifice are a part of my job's description." There was a satirical ring to Draupadi's laughter.  "I gulp the bitter concoction every day. My life is a tumultuous ride," she paused.  "Life itself is painful," sighed Ridhima. "Life is plain and simple like a lake. It's our choices that complicate it," countered the queen.  "Not everything we do is by choice. I wish I had a better support system. I love my husband and child. They are my life. But sometimes I just want to run away." An overwhelming emotion swept over Ridhima.  Draupadi raised her hand in a hi-fi.  "You had me there, sister," she exhaled.  A tinge of color slid under her dusky skin. She slipped into the abyss of her past. What was she recollecting? The time when her father considered her to be a burden. Or when Kunti had ordered Arjun to share her with his brothers?  "Get going, friend," Draupadi interrupted her thoughts. She glanced at the ticking clock, curtsied, and left the room. The nanny arrived earlier than usual. She quickly instructed her on the do's and don'ts, a ritual she followed religiously. The nanny nodded reluctantly, muttering a word or two under her breath. Ridhima knew that repetition irked the middle-aged woman. But she acted ignorant. It was one of the qualities that came with motherhood. She landed a peck on her daughter's cheeks and left.  In the driveway, she noticed a mother playing with her kid. Tears streamed down her face. Guilt choked her. She felt a tender hand comfort her.  "Regret is an integral part of our lives. We live with it." Draupadi's shriveled words prompted her to get into the car.  All along the drive, she remained silent. During the first half of the day, work kept her mind occupied. Her efforts yielded results. Satisfaction brewed in her heart. Despite being swamped, images of her baby lingered in her mind.  "What is my darling doing?" She almost wept over the phone. Her baby smiled. Her little eyes twinkled. With Ridhima's angst assuaged, she gulped a few morsels in peace. In a corner, Draupadi sat and waited for her newfound friend to recognize her presence.  Chapter 3 – Turbulence Mode On An email popped up on her screen. Someone had jinxed her peace. Arvind received the promotion to the regional head. She was passed over for promotion one more time. Why did it happen to her? Her capabilities weren't in question. Her genetic makeup had triggered the management's decision. It wasn't her maiden encounter with bias. Her first rendezvous with the social ailment was during her childhood. "Don't waste money on your daughter's education. Invest it in your son." She remembered her grandmother's words. She felt the same pain she had felt years back grasp her. Wounds healed. But the scars deepened with time. She threw her head behind her and closed her eyes. The stress ball suffered in her clutches. "What is troubling you?" Draupadi's voice startled her.  Her cloudy eyes recorded a distorted image of the ethereal beauty.  "I have been passed over for promotion. Again." She slammed the laptop shut. "A woman supposedly can't handle responsibilities at a higher level." A derisive look flashed in her eyes.  Draupadi stood up. Her hands rested on her hips. Her exasperated sigh resonated across the room.  "Centuries went by. Life thrived. But mindsets remain the same." She hurled her fist in the air.  It felt like she was fighting the demons that haunted her.  "My father wanted a son. Only a son. I was the excess baggage he could neither keep nor discard. Experts tutored me. My father made sure that I was well-equipped. But not with the skills I wanted to learn. I was taught only those skills that were deemed appropriate for a woman. I wished to learn war skills. I could have saved my children. Krishna said that it was destiny. I disagree. I failed as a mother." She sat with her face buried in her palms.  A river of tears slipped from between her fingers. Ridhima heard her heart pound. A sliver of fear rushed down her spine. Draupadi, the fierce queen, revered for her bravery displayed her vulnerable side. Helplessness washed over Ridhima like a storm.  "Unspoken sorrow lay locked in your heart. Flushing it out will help you." Ridhima spoke slowly.  Draupadi lifted her head and smiled knowingly.  "Enough about me. My life is a thing of the past. Do you regret giving your hundred percent for your job?" She regained her composure.  "Not always. But on days like today, I regret every bit of it." Ridhima was honest.  "Do you have any regrets?" she asked. "Truckloads of them." Draupadi looked at the snow globe on the table and twirled it. The glass rattled. The afternoon sun created shadows on the windowpane.  "Where do I start?" Draupadi stretched her lips.  "My marriage to the Pandava brothers laid the foundation for the world's resurrection. Or that was what Krishna said. But I regret not combating my mother-in-law Kunti's order. Sometimes, I wish I remained celibate. Accepting Duryodhan's invitation is another decision that weighs me down. Lastly, I should have burnt the entire Kaurava clan to ashes on the same day they executed their hideous plan. It would have saved many mothers and wives from burning in the fire of agony." The glass reflected a glimpse of the queen's rage.  "I can go on and on. But that's a story for another day. Your turn now," she continued.  "I'm tired. Can we go someplace else and talk? Somewhere quiet," Ridhima packed her belongings. Draupadi walked to the door and looked around. A man leered at one of the female employees. Seated in a cubicle, a woman tried to conceal her tears as she typed away furiously. The 'ever-changing' yet stagnant world was suffused with pain and suffering. Laughter akin to a thunderstorm escaped her.  Ridhima walked out of her office.  "Signing off, is it?" She crossed paths with Arvind. Her scorn slipped under the well-plastered smile.  "Just for today," she answered and left him bewildered. "Where are we going?" asked Draupadi.  "Coffee house around the corner," answered Ridhima with her focus on the partially empty roads. Chapter 4 – Two Cents from The Queen The door to the cafe opened. A bell jingled. The aroma of freshly ground coffee tranquilized their sapped minds. "This is a welcome change from my otherwise mundane life." Draupadi sat cross-legged on the couch. "You are the queen. How can your life be mundane?" Ridhima quipped. "My life isn't glamorous like you think. It's an empty nest waiting for some sunshine and chirping birds. Blooming flowers line my home. Fluttering butterflies throng my backyard. But none of us have the zeal to stop by and smell the roses." Draupadi sipped the coffee. The waiter looked at the cup hanging in the air. With his eyes widened, he pointed at the cup, words stuck in his mouth. "You are scaring him," Ridhima whispered.  Draupadi placed the cup on the table not before lifting it higher one last time. The tiny beads rolling on the waiter's forehead began to dry. But his hands still reeled under the effect. His footsteps receded. Ridhima clasped her stomach and laughed. It was a laughter that defied anxiety and guilt. Her jaws hurt. Her eyes twinkled. Her laughter felt like a symphony of pianos. Her joy spread swiftly across the room and made the onlookers smile. A sense of fulfillment spread to the corners of Draupadi's heart.  "It's been forever since I have had a hearty laugh," Ridhima gasped for breath. "I can't remember the last time I saw someone laugh." Draupadi closed her eyes. They smiled occasionally. But wholehearted laughter was out of the question. Bliss seemed like a distant dream.  "I'm waiting for my baby to grow up. I can live my life then." Ridhima looked at an elderly couple entering the cafe with their hands entwined.  "How long are you planning to wait? Five years, a decade or more?" asked Draupadi. Confusion floated in Ridhima's eyes. She struggled to put words together and weave an answer. She failed and gave up.  "Life is tough. A woman's life is tougher. Why do you want to make it a living hell? The best time to start something new is now. Don't wait for the perfect opportunity. Create it." Draupadi held her hand.  Ridhima's phone rang.  "I'll be home by seven, Anish," she said.  The light in her eyes dimmed. Her hands leaned heavily on the table. Her face displayed a certain heaviness.  "Live life on your terms. Don't postpone happiness. Look at my life. I never experienced childhood. Krishna promised that a prince would come for me. I pictured him showering flowers of joy on me. I imagined us leading a happy life. True to Krishna's words, a prince came. We got married. Soon after, my life took a tumultuous turn. My soul bathed in fire every day. I hoped that my children would bring me happiness. I wanted to live my childhood through them. That dream remained a dream. I never lived my life. I was an empress. I had everything at the snap of my fingers. Everything except the desire to live. Lessons from my failures will help you change the course of your life." A sudden tide of emotions crashed against Draupadi.  "Live life on your terms. Easier said than done. People will tag me as a selfish and bad mother. Judgements would stab me and tear my life apart. My existence will be blemished. I will be left alone." Fear gripped Ridhima. "Irrespective of your deeds, you will be forced to walk on the flames of judgment. The onlookers will vilify your actions. Words sharp like a sword will pierce your heart. It comes with the territory. But you will never be alone. None of us are." Draupadi leaned forward.  Her shoulders relaxed. Compassion overpowered her anger.  "You found a friend in Krishna. He was a true friend. I feel like I'm alone. My husband and family love me. But I cannot talk about my deepest fears with them. Not without the fear of losing them." Tears coursed down Ridhima's cheeks. "You are not alone. There is a Krishna within you. He is waiting to embrace you, hold your hands, and guide you. But you must take the first step. Don't let your fears eat away your peace. Trust HIM. Trust yourself. Everything else will follow," smiled Draupadi. Before Ridhima could respond, her phone chimed.  "We must go home," she said while scanning her reminders. "Pack two of those," Draupadi pointed at the chocolate cake.  "Your wish is my command," winked Ridhima.  Her baby threw her hands and legs in the air. Ridhima felt her overwhelming emotions subside. Her baby's cheeks turned pink as she kissed them.  "Mumma missed you, baby." A cry escaped her throat.  Chapter 5 – The Conclusion Hours went by. The chores kept Ridhima busy. Draupadi retreated to her favorite corner and watched things unfold. The doorknob turned. Ridhima's husband walked into the house. He carried the baby in his arms and gently twirled her in the air. "You are home, Anish." Ridhima embraced a forced smile.  "I missed you," he whispered in her ears. His lips touched hers for a split second. He wrapped his arms around her waist. Her tension seemed to dissipate. Everything seemed normal. "Join us for dinner," Ridhima gestured to Draupadi.  Ridhima quickly cleared her plate. Resting her baby on her shoulders, she tried to make her sleep.  "I'll take care of our princess. I want my queen to get some rest." Anish kissed her on her forehead.  "She gets cranky at night," warned Ridhima. "I'll take care of her. She is my daughter too," he assured. She hugged him. Suddenly, life wasn't that bad.  "Let me take your leave," she heard Draupadi's voice. "Don't go," cried Ridhima. She felt as though someone amputated her. "I will always be there with you. My experiences will guide you. Thoughts about me will comfort you. You are strong. You are enough." Draupadi embraced her. Ridhima felt a current of strength wafting through her. She watched in silence as Draupadi waved at her and disappeared. The sun shone brighter than ever. Birds sang a different song. Ridhima organized her room. She found a peacock feather shimmering under the golden rays resting on the couch. Her fingers traced the smooth outline. The veritable daughter of Panchaal had left an amulet for her. Draupadi wasn't with her anymore. Not physically. But their conversation and the wisdom she imparted would stay locked in Ridhima's heart forever. She found a friend. She now believed there was light at the end of the tunnel. Sometimes bright and sometimes dim. But then the light never left her. It was a new beginning. She looked forward to it.