"Kya Hai Zindagi"

Bhima and his mighty arms- Mahabharat crack fic Series Part II

The first thud was loud enough to make Arjuna pause mid-sentence. The second thud had Nakula looking up from his polished sword. The third thud made Sahadeva slowly, carefully, close the scroll he was reading. The fourth thud- accompanied by the ominous clinking of golden rings being stripped off thick fingers- had all three of them turning toward the source. Bhima. He was smiling. That was a problem. "You know," Bhima said pleasantly, as he slipped off his armlets and tossed them onto the growing pile of discarded ornaments. "I usually let things go." No, he did not. "I mean, I am a reasonable person." He unfastened his necklace, an impressive piece of gold that clattered onto the table. "Patient, even." Yudhishthira, who had been pretending not to be involved in this mess, shut his eyes. He knew where this was going. He had long accepted that he was doomed to suffer through his younger brothers' antics for as long as he lived. "Bhima," he tried, rubbing his temples, "please." Bhima ignored him. He held up a single finger, dangerously cheerful, as he removed his last ring and set it down with a delicate tap. Then, very deliberately, he cracked his knuckles. "Which one of you," he said, still smiling, "said I wouldn’t be able to carry all three of you at once anymore?" There was silence. Then... "It was Nakula," Arjuna said immediately, shifting slightly behind Sahadeva. "Excuse me?" Nakula turned, scandalized. "It was not! It was you, Bhrata Arjun!" Sahadeva, ever the diplomat, cleared his throat. "It was actually both of you. And technically, I believe I agreed." "Traitor," Nakula hissed. Bhima exhaled through his nose, looking far too delighted for anyone’s comfort. "So that’s how it is, huh?" A beat. Then three things happened at once: Arjuna bolted. Nakula lunged for the door. Sahadeva tried to take the high road and stay put, but immediately regretted it when Bhima lunged. Somewhere in the chaos, Arjuna yelled, "HE CAN STILL DO IT! HE CAN STILL DO IT!" as Bhima caught all three of them in an unbreakable grip. Nakula screeched in outrage, Sahadeva resigned himself to his fate, and Yudhishthira pressed his forehead to the table, done with all of them. And across the room-lounging on a divan, eating grapes: Krishna was laughing so hard he almost fell over. "Oh, this is delightful," Krishna wheezed, wiping at his eyes. "Do it again, Bhima, I wasn't watching properly the first time." Bhima did do it again. Just for Krishna. By the end of it, all three younger brothers were thrown onto a pile of cushions, Bhima stood victorious, and Yudhishthira wondered, not for the first time, why he had been born the eldest. Krishna, still grinning, leaned toward Yudhishthira and whispered, "At least they are affectionate." Yudhishthira stared blankly at him. Then, with the last shred of dignity he had, he got up and left the room. He needed a break. Perhaps a lifetime-long one.

Later that evening, after the chaos had settled and Yudhishthira had successfully escaped the madness (for now), Arjuna, Nakula, and Sahadeva sat nursing their bruised egos and sore limbs.

Bhima, still smug, was polishing off the last of his sweets while Krishna watched with open amusement.

Nakula, who had finally tamed his hair again, crossed his arms. "I still want to know who told Bhima about this in the first place."

Arjuna frowned, rubbing his shoulder. "Yeah, I mean… we said that days ago. When did he find out?"

There was silence as the three of them thought back. Then, slowly, all eyes turned to Krishna.

Krishna smiled.

"You didn’t," Arjuna groaned.

Krishna popped a grape into his mouth. "I may have."

Sahadeva blinked. "Why?"

"Because it was funny," Krishna admitted, with absolutely no shame. "You three, gossiping like little parrots, questioning Bhima’s strength? How could I not tell him?"

Bhima laughed, slapping his knee. "See? Even Krishna agrees! I had to remind you all who the strongest is!"

Nakula gaped at him. "You threw us across the room!"

"And yet," Bhima grinned, "I could have thrown you further."

Arjuna slumped back dramatically. "We are doomed. We have been betrayed."

Sahadeva, ever practical, exhaled. "To be fair, we did doubt him."

Krishna pointed at him. "See? At least one of you has some wisdom."

Bhima patted Sahadeva on the head. "Good little brother. You, I like."

Sahadeva swatted his hand away. "You like throwing me into furniture!"

"That too."

Arjuna leaned toward Krishna. "You are the problem," he accused.

Krishna rested his chin on his hand, eyes twinkling. "Oh, Parth, my dear, my dearest, I am always the problem. You should know this by now."

Arjuna groaned again and let himself fall back onto the cushions.

reblog please my friends 🔪🩸☠️💣✨

 A friend threatened me to repost so I will!

Basically, there r tons of fake asses on tumblr who just want comments and followers, so someone started this to see who's actually a good friend. Everyone I tag better repost (and tag other people and preferably threaten them in a creative way as well) bc I'm high on caffeine and newfound lesbianism and will resort to violence.

@ey-theys-was-coronas

@fangirlhehe

I would tag more people but they're the only ones I've really interacted with-

"Kya hai Zindagi"

It's the question "Violence" and the answer is Yes.

I'm quite new to tumblr and REALLY I don't know how things work (I hope this is replying to you and not going into a void) but yes the answer is yes (most times)

FIRE AND RAIN

The first time I saw her, I was clad in disguise, Betrayed by the ones we called family, Bound by my mother’s words- You brothers will suffice. Yet I stared, amidst the kings and princes of Bharatvarsha, Where steel and pride were woven thick, Where men sought glory, aiming at the near impossible. Yet there she stood- unshaken, unmoved, Born of fire, a flame no storm could quell. Her hair, a river of endless midnight silk, Her lotus eyes, a single glance, and hearts would tremble. Yet in their depths, my gods… Not a maiden’s dream, but a warrior’s strength. Gold and diamonds adorned her form, Yet they dimmed before her radiant glow. For she was not the moon’s borrowed light, She was the brimming fire of a sacred Agni Kunda. Then she walked, and the air grew still, A hush of petals upon a royal garden, The world inhaled the scent of a lotus dream. Oh, but she was not soft alone, Thunder echoed in the step of her stride, A tempest roared within her veins. She, a no mere flower, But a storm waiting to rise. I, the son of Indra: you, the blessing of fire. Would I be the bow or the arrow you set to flight? Would I ever know the strength that shapes the storm, The brilliance of her fearless light? I am but a Brahmin in disguise, Standing before a flame that will not bend. And in her gaze, I glimpse a path, A journey that will never end.

I'm supposed to finish assignments but my mind is elsewhere...

For the boy who was loved- Balarama POV

Balarama chuckled from his post beneath the tree. It was rare to see his brother-in-law like this: unguarded. Soft. He was always sharp-edged, always honed like a blade in Khandava's fire. Yet, it was not a rare sight in Dwarka or Indraprastha. Arjuna was always gentler around his brothers. His wives. His Krishna.

But with Abhimanyu, he was a different kind of gentle. With Abhimanyu, Arjuna melted- not like steel in flame, but like snow in morning light. There was no guard, no pride to uphold, no dharma too heavy to carry. Just a father, stretched out on sun-warmed stone, listening to his son ramble about horses and formations and the fastest way to take down an elephant from behind.

He watched as Arjuna scooped the boy into his arms and dropped to the ground with him in a heap of laughter and mud. "You'll make a fine warrior one day," Arjuna murmured, ruffling the boy's wet hair, "but you'll be even greater if you learn to smile through the battle."

"You'll be proud of me?" Abhimanyu asked, eyes wide.

Arjuna paused for a moment- then touched his forehead to his son's.

"My boy," he whispered, "proud would be too small a word."

He never forgot that moment.

Which is why, when the messenger arrived: dirt-caked and shaking, lips too dry to form the words...Balarama already knew.

The Archer Remade: The Parting- Sneak peek

“You gambled us away,” Bhima had roared days ago, chest heaving, eyes blazing with something Arjuna had never seen in him before- betrayal. “You gambled her. You gambled me, Jyestha. Say the word and I’ll thrust this hand into the fire. Let it burn. The same hand with which you wagered everything without asking!”

Yudhishthira had not flinched.

“Do it, Bhima. If that will bring her peace.”

It was not defiance. It was surrender.

But Bhima’s fury had collapsed into grief. He had stood, trembling, knuckles white with restraint. Then he turned and walked out into the night.

I'm writing a new story! Yayyy!!! The draft is finally complete!!! A peek to the first chapter :)

if you get this, answer with 3 random facts about yourself and send it to the last 7 blogs in your notifications, anonymously or not! Let's get to know the person behind the blog. :)

Okay let's do this

I am deadly scared of bees and wasps, basically all insects that go buzz buzz near me and are capable of stinging me, yes, I'm terrified.

I'm farsighted, but I hate wearing glasses so I just squint.

I secretly smoke, not even my closed friends know that. I don't do it often, and I'm trying to stop.

Yashoda's Ode

They let me stand at the edge of the crowd, behind gold-cloaked queens and guards of flame. He didn’t see me- or maybe he did- and smiled the same. They say he is a prince now, son of kings and ancient light, cradled not by calloused hands, but by the silks of royal right. They say he wears a peacock crown, he holds a bow, commands the skies- but I remember muddy feet, and milk-white teeth in mango lies. They speak of battles, of demons slain, of chariots and warlike men- but I recall my Lala, the butter thief, who’d smile and steal my heart again. He left with eyes too old for boys, too knowing for his tender years. Yet when he touched my feet to go, he left his smile, and took my tears. No labor bore him from my womb, no birthmark bound us, blood nor bone- but when he called me Maiya once, I knew no love more fierce, more known. I nursed no prince, no god, just raised a child- the sweetest boy the world has known. With scraped-up knees and endless, laughing songs, Years slipped by like your whispers, soft and wild. If Devaki birthed the god, then I raised that boy to be one. No cradle held him like my arms. No storm outshone his laughing hour. I taught him how to tie his sash, to whistle low, and climb trees. I taught a god to eat with both hands- Oh, I taught a god to eat with both hands. Devaki stood with the pride of dawn, her hands soft-folded, eyes gone wet. And I? I smiled too,  because I know she grieves the years I can’t forget. So let them say he saves the world, let them crown and call him wise- I only hope he eats enough, and still looks up at the stars. Some nights, I wake with silence in my arms- no flute, no laugh upon the breeze- but every morning, I still stir his curds and Makhan with memories. So go, my moon, my flame, my very breath- be what the world must call divine. But if your feet should wander home… your Maiya waits, her old arms still wide.

Art by @saranagati.art from Instagram

The story of Arjun's life

Krishna had sent him here with a simple instruction: "Go. Learn." Learn what exactly? Krishna hadn’t said. But Arjuna was used to unraveling the mysteries woven into his friend’s words.

Krishna sending Arjuna on side quests like an open-world RPG, lol

https://www.wattpad.com/1527739311-arjuna-through-the-lenses-of-dwarka-the-master-of

The One Who Holds My Reins

Oh Krishna, my dearest Madhav, I have seen my god in you- Your blue-hued gaze holding the vastness of the universe, The stars themselves moving at your silent command. Oh Keshava, my dearest Madhav, You weave fate with the flick of your wrist, Yet hold my reins with hands steady, patient, kind. You gather the shards of my broken mind, And in your embrace, I am whole again. I have heard your laughter, bright as rivers in spring, I have seen your stillness, deep as oceans before the storm. And now, I breathe your name- A prayer not spoken, but felt in the marrow of my soul. Hai Parameswara, Hai prabhu, You have lifted the veil from my eyes, Shown me dharma, my path, my truth. This war is no longer about me, my pride, my sorrow- It is the weight of the world, the will of time itself. Oh Janardana, father of the universe, In one breath, I bow down to you, Yet such is your simplicity, that in another breath- I can crumble into my sakha’s arms Oh Govinda, for your cause- I would shatter a thousand bows, a thousand destinies. And when the dust of war settles, When the echoes of battle fade into silence, It is not victory or defeat I will remember- But the chariot’s wheels turning beneath your steady hands, And the voice that called me back to myself.

picture from Pinterest