Arjuna: Through the Lenses of Dwarka

Note: Hello!!! My classes have officially begun, so I might not be able to update as frequently: but I'm determined to finish the drafts I've written as of today. So, cheers! Massive updates are on the way.❤️❤️❤️

Life is chaotic...🥲 I don't want to study at all, but sometimes you just must do what needs to be done.

This chapter was meant to be a deep, reflective one, I suppose. More into Arjun interacting with people of Dwarka. It's inspired by a scene from my favorite show, Castlevania-  the conversation between Isaac and the sailor.  That moment stuck with me, and I wanted to capture a similar feeling here. Deep, philosophical, and full of quiet wisdom....makes for a great foundation for Arjuna's conversation with Matsyasen.

Please do enjoy!

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Location: Docks of Dwarka's port

The sun burned high over Dwarka's shimmering blue waters, casting golden light over the bustling docks. The scent of salt and fish lingered in the air as seagulls cried overhead. Merchants called out their wares, workers hauled sacks of grain and spices onto ships, and the constant rhythm of waves crashing against the wooden piers set the heartbeat of the city.

Arjuna stood at the edge of the harbor, watching as the sailors moved with effortless precision. Their bodies swayed with the rhythm of the tide, their hands quick and sure as they secured ropes and adjusted sails.

Krishna had sent him here with a simple instruction: "Go, learn."

Learn what exactly, Krishna had not said. But Arjuna was used to deciphering Krishna's cryptic ways.

A rough chuckle broke his thoughts. "You stand like a man who's never been on the sea before."

Arjuna turned to see an older man, his skin darkened by years under the sun, his silver-streaked beard neatly tied into a knot. His clothes were simple, loose, and practical, but his eyes- his eyes were sharp, the kind that had seen thunderstorms and survived.

"I am more familiar with the battlefield than the ocean," Arjuna admitted.

The sailor smirked. "A battlefield has ground beneath your feet, Prince of Kurus. The sea has none." Arjun was a bit surprised that this man knew him.

The sailor saw his surprise, chuckled and patted Arjuna's shoulder, his grip firm. "Come, warrior. If you wish to learn, the tide waits for no man."

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The ship rocked as Arjuna stepped aboard, adjusting to the unsteady movement beneath him. The crew moved quickly, adjusting sails and securing cargo, all while the old sailor, who introduced himself as Matsyasen- stood by, watching with an amused glint in his eye.

Arjuna observed the men's work, how they worked in unison, their hands sure, their eyes always watching the horizon.

"Strength is everything on land," Matsyasen mused, stepping beside him. "Your arms must be mighty, your arrows swift. But here? Here, you could have the arms of Bhimsen, and the sea would still toss you aside like driftwood."

Arjuna furrowed his brows. "Then how does one command it?"

Matsyasen barked a laugh. "Command it? Boy, you don't command the sea. You understand it. You learn its moods, listen to its whispers in the wind, and adjust. A fool fights the storm; a wise man moves with it."

Arjuna was silent, letting the words sink in. On the battlefield, he had always been in control-his bow, his arrows, his stance. Here, the ocean was the master, and he was merely at its mercy.