Week 9: Storytelling--Trapped Among Peacocks

It all began with my swayamvara.  Everything was supposedly proceeding as it should, with suitors of all classes and of various kingdoms preening and boasting of their skills.  Even those who knew they had little chance of earning my hand had come to catch a glimpse of me and to hope for a miraculous win.

Perhaps if I were the type of princess my father and his advisers desired, all of the attention would have been flattering and would have caused a delicate, feminine blush to stain my cheeks.  Instead, as I was paraded into the arena like nothing more than a beautiful prize to be won, I could not help but scorn those around me.  All of them were haughty, arrogant, conceited, egocentric, narcissistic peacocks, wishing for nothing more than to flash their bright plumage and claim me as a trophy and a symbol of their prowess.  But I refused to be so easily won, so easily used.

My brother and father had wanted a simple archery competition, but I convinced them otherwise--it was my swayamvara, after all.  If I'm to be forced into marriage, I'm going to make it a challenge for all involved.  So I got to watch all of those preening peacocks shoot five arrows at a revolving target while using only a reflection in a pan of oil to aim.  And thankfully I was able to get a little bit of amusement out of the detestable misogynistic tournament.

If I weren't so thrilled with the prospect of escaping marriage, the display of spectacular failures would have been embarrassing.  I had hoped to eliminate only the worst, but instead sent all suitors fleeing in shame--that is, except for two.

You see, Karna, a Kaurava, was--and is still--one of the most gifted master of arms and archery.  He stood in the corner watching his "competition" failing with a contemptuous sneer on his face, joking with his men condescendingly.  Despicable as he is, I could not prevent him from competing, and so I watched with dread as he approached the bow in the arena.  Of course, when he looked my way, I continued to play the innocent, bashful, flattered damsel everyone wanted me to be--even if all I wanted to do was storm out of that hall after calling out all the men who thought a simple contest should determine the entirety of a woman's future.

However, it seemed I was not as in control of myself as I like to think.  For, as Karna approached the line to take aim at the target, I released a simple comment on a resigned sigh.  "I will not accept him."

Never have I been so glad to have uttered five simple words.  Those words changed my fate, or perhaps simply enabled fate to proceed as planned.  In any case, Karna turned to me, his eyes filled with arrogant condescension and his smile wry, and dropped the bow on the ground with a prideful air.  Sarcastically, he mouthed, "As you wish," and haughtily announced to his men that I was not worth the trouble if I was not to be agreeable.  Detestable men, wanting nothing more than a pretty doll on a shelf to be taken down when needed!

A brahmin, appearing humble and tattered, then stood up and approached the challenge I placed before him.  Without hesitation, and with obvious ease, he sunk all five arrows deep in the rotating target.  For a moment I thought to deny him, regardless of his skill, but then he looked into my eyes--and I saw my fate.

Perhaps you will say that I must have seen love, or that I must have simply accepted my role as a princess.  Fools!  I would not subject myself to marriage simply because it was expected, because it was traditional.  And perhaps love could explain my change in heart, but that was not the case.  No, when I looked into Arjuna's eyes--for indeed it was he, one of the Pandavas--it was as if there was a cosmic link between us.  I felt a pull, a gravity in his form, and I knew that I could not object, could not fight this marriage.  Whether I desired it or not, I would marry this man.  And seeing also kindness and strength and respect and virtue in the man before me, I gracefully accepted that he was part of my destiny.

And so I draped a garland of fragrant flowers around his neck and acted the demure princess most believed me to be.  Even as the crowd objected to the victory of an understated red spurfowl among so many self-absorbed peacocks, I recognized Arjuna as a worthy complement.  I believe he recognized the spark of fire in my gaze, the undeniable aura of wit and defiance I exuded, and yet he simply nodded in acceptance of me with a slight smile touching his lips.

Of course, my marriage was not to be as simple as my betrothal.  For I was to end up with five husbands, rather than one.  It was seem I do have a tendency to bring about the most unusual circumstances.

But that is a story for another day. . .




Author's Note.  So I decided to write a tale about Draupadi.  She caught my eye in the epic so far in that she always seems to have something to say, some objection about her treatment as nothing more than property or a prize.  And yet, at the same time, in some ways she is very accepting of her fate.  So a strong, intelligent, complicated woman--how unheard of!!!  Haha.  But seriously, I like her character a lot.  Thus my strong, sassy, independent portrayal.  I hope you enjoyed it!!!

Bibliography.  Narayan, R.K. (1978). The Mahabharata.

Image Information.  Photograph of a peacock feather, 2013.  FreeWall Source.