Suyodhana looked moodily at the ground. It was dry. He looked up at the sky. It was raining. And no ordinary rain either, by the looks of it. The trees outside the clearing were swaying in the wind. Lightning lit up the forest beyond. He could hear the thunder too.
Inside the clearing where they were, all was still. The two horses, tethered at its edge grazed calmly. The fire flickered very slightly. Not a drop of water fell on them. It was as if they were inside a protective bubble, one which prevented the fury of the elements from reaching them.
Krishna was sitting on a log. He looked thoughtful as he put a few more twigs in the fire.
“I’m bored,” said Suyodhana suddenly.
Krishna raised his eyebrows at that. “Boredom won’t kill you,” he replied.
“Easy for you to say. You are not the one stuck here with nothing to do and with no company.”
Krishna chuckled. “You are hardly scintillating company yourself.”
“I am the prisoner,” retorted Suyodhana. “I am not supposed to be good company.”
“And gaolers are? Isn’t there something wrong with that logic?”
“I don’t feel like being logical. I am bored. Entertain me.”
Krishna laughed. “You are worse than a child. How am I supposed to entertain you?”
“I don’t know. Sing, dance, play the flute. You are supposed to be good at those.”
“I don’t sing and I hardly think you want to see the sort of dance I do,” Krishna sounded amused. “But I can play the flute.”
“Whatever.”
“How gracious,” murmured Krishna as he raised the flute to his lips.
oflifeandmyths 