Her Hair Flaming, Draupadi Rose From The Ashes

Anger flushed through her body and she opened her eyes. She saw the mirror, her self-respect burnt to ashes and images of her own talking to each other…

It was the sunset that officially called off the biggest war that ever happened on earth.

The mighty warrior king walked towards his queen’s palace. His hand soaked with his cousin’s fresh blood. This was the same one who once attacked his queen’s dignity along with all others, in a court full of ministers and elders.

He fulfilled her oath, but…

She had taken an oath that she wouldn’t tie her long beautiful hair back until she washed them with the blood of the demon. The one who dragged her with the hair in the court where her ancestors ruled. And her oath was fulfilled by her mighty husband by tearing the demon apart and dyeing Draupadi’s hair red with his blood.

Draupadi ran out of her palace and went to the war land in search of the answer to her dilemma, the miles of land was full of dead bodies of the soldiers and warriors. Some were old men she respected with her whole heart. Others were teenagers whom she observed as new stars of the kingdom.

All she could smell in the air was blood, flesh and sorrow. And all she heard were the cries of young women who lost their husbands, the cries of the mothers who lost their sons. All she could see were the little children abandoned because the support system of their family was killed in the war.

She could not bear the pain and she helplessly went back to  her palace, breaking down with guilt. Draupadi looked at herself in the mirror- her blood dyed hair, her swollen eyes and her pale face. She was reminded of the loved ones whom she was not done mourning yet. And of the loss that was brought to the mankind by this horrifying war.

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Was it worth it?

She asked herself if it was worth it? If this destruction of life was the answer to her questions? She felt sorry for being the cause of this blunder. And she closed her eyes and screamed in pain. That screaming voice echoed in her ears, she felt like she had heard this scream somewhere.

The loud scream kept hammering at her, from within until she was able to recall when and where she’d heard it.

She heard it when a woman was insulted by men, when a woman was hit by men, when some woman was brutally touched, when a woman was molested. The scream, she heard it when a woman was dragged and undressed by the men, she heard when a woman was objectified by the men, when a woman was sold like a cheap material by the men, when a woman was gambled like a non-living piece of wealth by the men. She heard it whenever a woman and her dignity was killed by this species called men.

“I eat men like air”

Anger flushed through her body and she opened her eyes. She saw in the mirror her self-respect burnt to ashes by all different means and sorts, by all different men- good or bad. Suddenly the tears in her eyes were replaced by rage, suddenly the guilt in her mind was replaced by an urge of eruption.

In the mirror she saw two images of her own talking to each other. One was a guilt ridden woman asking, “Do you really want this blood on your hair? Are you really happy now?” And the other rising out of the ashes with her red, blood dyed hair. “I will eat all men like air,” she said.

Editor’s note: This story had been shortlisted from the entries for the Muse of the Month contest for November 2019.

Picture credits: YouTube

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