Kunti knelt by a forest spring, the cool water lapping at her knees as she waded through the shallows, her crimson sari soaked at the hem and clinging to her legs. The bamboo grove's hum faded into the distance behind her, replaced by the spring's gentle gurgle and the rustle of leaves overhead. She cupped the water in her hands, letting it slip through her fingers, her dark hair loose and damp from the morning's heat. Her face was set, calm but focused, as she prepared to chant again, the memory of Bhima's stormy birth still fresh though months had passed. The air felt still, waiting, and she took a slow breath, steadying herself for what was to come.
Pandu stood on a rocky outcrop overlooking the spring, his tunic patched with fresh stitches where a sleeve had torn during a scramble through brambles earlier. He balanced a stick on his finger, teaching Yudhishthira to do the same, the boy's small hands steady with a focus that made Pandu chuckle softly. "Keep it up, little man," he said, his voice warm, his gray eyes glinting in the sunlight. Bhima crawled nearby, uprooting saplings with gleeful grunts, his dark curls bouncing as he tugged at their roots, his strength already a marvel that left tiny piles of dirt in his wake. Madri sat on the bank, weaving a reed basket with quick, precise movements, her green sari torn at the sleeve from a bramble snag. Her eyes darted to Kunti, then back to her work, her lips pressed thin with quiet tension, her fingers pausing now and then as the spring's soft ripples mixed with the breeze.
Kunti's voice rose, clear and firm, the mantra spilling out like a song she'd always known. The water in her hands trembled, tiny waves forming, and Pandu looked up, the stick wobbling as he caught sight of her. "There she goes again," he said, his tone bright with anticipation, steadying the stick with a quick flick. "You're a wonder, Kunti. Three times now, and I still can't believe it."
Madri's fingers stilled on the reeds, her basket half-finished as she glanced over, her voice sharp but low, almost lost in the rustle of leaves. "Three times? Bhima's barely crawling, and you're at it again? You don't tire, do you, Kunti?" She tugged a reed tight, her green sari shifting as she leaned forward, her eyes narrowing against the glare off the water.
Kunti didn't falter, her chants growing louder, but she turned her head slightly, her tone steady despite the water dripping from her hands. "It's not about tiring, Madri. It's about what we need. Yudhishthira's justice, Bhima's strength—and now something more. Pandu's right to push." Her crimson sari fluttered as a breeze picked up, the soaked hem leaving dark streaks on the bank.
Pandu grinned, dropping the stick to clap his hands together, his voice eager as he stepped closer to the outcrop's edge. "Push? Aye, I'm pushing because it works! Look at these two already." He nodded at Yudhishthira, who balanced the stick with a small, triumphant smile, and Bhima, who yanked a sapling free with a delighted squeal. "We're building something, Madri. Kunti's giving us a future. Go on, Kunti, let's see what's next!"
The sky cleared abruptly, gray clouds parting like curtains torn aside, and a voice boomed from above, sharp and resonant, like a war horn echoing through a battlefield. "You call me, woman of unwavering will," it declared, and Pandu's grin froze, his gray eyes widening as he gripped the rock beneath him. "I am Indra, king of the gods, wielder of the thunderbolt. I grant you a son of valor, a warrior unmatched." The air crackled, energy sparking across the spring, and a radiant bow arced across the sky, its colors sharp and shimmering—red, gold, blue—blazing bright against the heavens. Celestial drums pounded a fierce rhythm, shaking the leaves, and Arjuna emerged, his cry piercing like an arrow's whistle, his tiny eyes glinting with a fire that seemed older than his moments.
The spring's surface sparkled, fish leaping in frantic arcs, their scales flashing like silver coins, and a star flared overhead, bright and bold, cutting through the daylight. The heavens cheered, a voice ringing out, vast and triumphant: "A warrior unmatched is born, his aim shall split the skies!"
Far off in Vrindhavan, a young boy with dark curls paused mid-step on a dusty street, his bare feet kicking pebbles as he played. He stopped, his head tilting toward the distant forest, a faint smile tugging his lips, his bright eyes glinting as if he felt the star's pulse. A cowherd called after him, "Hey, come back here, you little wanderer!" but the boy lingered a moment longer, his smile widening, then turned away, the dust settling behind him.
Pandu dropped the stick, rushing down the outcrop in a scramble of boots and loose stones, his voice thick with awe as he reached Kunti. "Arjuna! That's his name—Arjuna!" He knelt beside her, lifting the baby from the water's edge, his hands tracing the boy's perfect, tiny fingers, marveling at their strength. "Look at him, Kunti. He's… he's something else. A warrior, like the voice said!" His gray eyes shone, wet with tears, and he held Arjuna up, the star's light glinting off the baby's damp skin.
Kunti rose, water dripping from her crimson sari, her breath steadying as she brushed her hands dry on her hips. She smiled, small but warm, her dark eyes softening as she looked at Arjuna. "Indra's gift," she said, her voice clear despite the drums still echoing faintly in her ears. "Valor for us, Pandu. That's what he'll bring." She stepped closer, her fingers brushing Arjuna's cheek, the spring's ripples lapping at her feet.
Yudhishthira pointed at the glowing bow, his small voice bright as he dropped his stick, clapping his hands. "Sign! Big sign!" He toddled over, his boots scuffing the grass, his wide eyes fixed on the sky where the colors faded slowly, leaving a golden haze. Bhima giggled nearby, tugging at a tuft of grass with a grunt, his dark curls bouncing as he rolled onto his back, oblivious to the spectacle.
Pandu laughed, a deep, joyful sound, cradling Arjuna close as he turned to Yudhishthira. "That's right, little man! A sign for your brother. Three of you now—justice, strength, and valor!" He shifted Arjuna in his arms, the baby batting at a moth fluttering near, his tiny hand quick and sharp, his focus already fierce. "Look at that, Kunti. He's after that moth like it's a target!"
Madri set her basket aside, the reeds spilling onto the bank as she stood, her green sari torn and dusty from sitting. Her smile was brittle, her hands folding tight over her chest as she stepped closer, her breath catching at the celestial display. "He's quick," she said, her voice tight, her eyes flickering between Arjuna and Kunti. "Really quick. Another strong one, Kunti. You've got a way with this." She nodded, short and stiff, her fingers pressing harder into her arms, her shadow sharp against the spring's edge.
Kunti turned to her, her hand resting lightly on Pandu's shoulder, her tone calm but carrying a quiet weight. "It's not a way, Madri. It's what they need to be. Yudhishthira's wise, Bhima's mighty, and Arjuna… he'll fight for us. They're ours, all of ours." She brushed water from her sari, her dark eyes steady as she met Madri's gaze, the star's light fading into the evening haze above.
Pandu shifted Arjuna to one arm, his grin softening as he clapped Yudhishthira on the back, the boy giggling as he stumbled forward. "Ours, aye. Three sons, Kunti! Three! And two more to go, right? You've got the knack for it, no matter what Madri says." He rocked Arjuna gently, his voice dropping, warm and eager. "What's next, eh? Another warrior? A king? We're on a roll now!"
Madri's hands tightened, her voice sharp as she stepped closer, her green sari swaying slightly. "A roll? He's still wet from the spring, Pandu, and you're planning the next one already? Let's dry him off first, at least." She softened her tone, just a touch, though her eyes stayed guarded. "He's… he's beautiful, though. Quick and beautiful."
Kunti glanced at her, her smile fading slightly, her voice firm as she smoothed Arjuna's damp hair. "He'll dry, Madri. And Pandu's got a point—we're not done. But not today. Let's take him back to the fire pit, get him warm. The spring's too cold now, and that bow's left me dizzy." She nodded at the sky, the radiant arc gone but the air still humming faintly with its echo.
Pandu nodded, his grin returning as he adjusted Arjuna in his arms, the baby's sharp cry settling to a soft coo. "Back to the fire, then. Yudhishthira, Bhima, come on, you two. Time to warm up your brother!" He bent, scooping Yudhishthira up with his free hand, the boy laughing as he clung to Pandu's shoulder, while Bhima crawled after, tugging grass with a happy grunt.
Madri hesitated, her fingers brushing her torn sleeve, then followed, her green sari trailing as she spoke, her voice quieter now, almost grudging. "He's light, isn't he? Lighter than Bhima, anyway. I'll carry the basket, Pandu, if you've got them all." She bent, gathering the spilled reeds, her smile still tight, her shadow stretching across the bank as the spring rippled behind her.
Pandu shook his head, his laugh bright and easy. "No need, Madri. I've got the lot! Three sons, and I'm not letting go!" He started back toward the grove, his steps steady despite the weight, his voice drifting over his shoulder. "Keep up, you two. This one's a fighter already!"
Kunti watched him go, her crimson sari drying slowly as the breeze stilled, the spring growing quiet except for the faint splash of fish settling back into the depths. She pressed a hand to her chest, her breath evening out, her dark eyes tracing the path where the star had flared. Arjuna's cry lingered in her mind, piercing and fierce, and she felt a spark of pride settle beside Yudhishthira's warmth and Bhima's strength. Three sons, each a gift, and more to come—she knew it, a certainty that steadied her. She started after Pandu, her steps firm, the spring rippling with Arjuna's divine promise as the evening haze deepened around her.