Every ending brings with it a new tomorrow.

It was the end of an era and also the

beginning of one. I travelled to Mathura with

Dau and Akrur. I was excited about what

was to come. I was to meet the infamous

Kansa. I knew with a confidence that is only

present in the young and the naive that I

could hold my own against Kansa. Dau was

blessed with the power not to think at all,

ever. He watched the sights on our journey to

Mathura and spoke only twice, both times to

ask Akrur if we could stop for a bite. He was

feeling hungry. Dau was nothing if not

focused on the priorities in life, namely food.

Akrur seemed sad, gloomy as if he were the

unlucky soul burdened with the

responsibility of taking lambs to the

slaughter. I should have talked to him,

assured him of our superior skill. I was not a

child. I had killed a demoness as a suckling

babe. I could handle whatever Kansa had in

store for me. I should have told Akrur all this

and more. I did not. Time would show him

soon enough there was never anything to be

worried about in the first place.

We reached Mathura sometime around dusk.

It was the first time I had left home, and for a

moment, as I stood in the market centre of

Mathura, I felt a sliver of homesickness for

buttermilk I had wanted the previous

morning. Was it unnatural that I did not think

of ma crying herself to sleep, Baba sleepless,

pacing the courtyard questioning his

acceptance of my choice? The choice was

never his. It is always mine. I thought of the

buttermilk, I thought of tomorrow, I took in

the buildings, the shops, the houses, the walls

of Kansa's palace to the left of where I stood.

Somewhere inside, Devaki and Vasudeva

were held, prisoners. I had been born of

them; I had a duty towards them. But that

would come tomorrow, tonight I would roam

the streets of Mathura, my last night the son

of Nanda, tomorrow I would play the part of

Devaki's ninth.

The world is only too familiar with what

happened next. Dau and I went to see the

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

famous bow of Shiva that was on display.

There were stories about how no man could

lift the bow. I asked to try. The people

standing by smiled at the young boy's

confidence, who felt he could hold Shiva's

bow. I picked up the bow, and I tried to

string it. The bow broke. The soldiers

standing guard took me to King Kansa in

chains. Dau was with me. He was the one

who egged me on to try my luck with the

bow in the first place and then enraged the

soldiers by laughing at them when they had

stood there perplexed by what they had

witnessed.

I was placed in the centre of an arena where

the famous elephant fights took place. I

defeated Kansa's elephant. I was simply

more intelligent than the animal, just like I

had been brighter than the cobra. The arena,

which had been resounding with the noise of

bloodthirsty, mighty warriors who apparently

wished to be entertained by the sight of an

elephant trampling a young boy, was all of a

sudden struck mute. I am not sure whether

they were more terrified of me or the anger

of their King as he witnessed the defeat of

his mighty elephant. It was no doubt a

beautiful beast, and I felt a slight turn of

remorse a second after I had slain it, but I

was a warrior myself. There is no point in

harping over what is done, especially if

needs must.

King Kansa ordered his right-hand man to

attack me. Dau jumped in to defend me. He

had been itching for a fight himself. Dau

hated being left out if there was a fight going

on. Seizing the opportune moment, I charged

at King Kansa, my uncle, my foe, the usurper

of my grandfather's throne.

King Kansa was a strong man, well built, a

warrior, and I was a mere boy. But that

meant I was younger. I was faster, did not

tire, and had no battle wounds to bring me

down. I defeated Kansa soundly and did

what I was born to do, rid the earth of the

scourge of my uncle King Kansa.

Dau let out a triumphant battle cry, a

whooping yell of victory. The arena was full

of giants who did not utter a word. They did

not move a muscle. They stood at the

ramparts looking in. Some sat on their

throne-like stone seats, turned to stone

themselves.

I could feel the blood of the elephant and

Kansa on me. I could not feel. I had done

what was needed. But I felt no joy, no

exhilaration of a win. I stood there breathing

in the iron, the metallic odour of spilt blood.