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."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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.
Matsyasen handed Arjuna the ropes. "You want to fight? Fine. Fight the wind."
Arjuna took hold of the ropes, feeling the strain as the sails caught the breeze. The ship jerked slightly, the force threatening to rip the rope from his grip. He held firm, muscles straining.
Matsyasen watched, shaking his head. "You're pulling too hard. Thinking like a warrior again. The wind ain't an enemy, boy."
Arjuna gritted his teeth, adjusting his grip. Instead of fighting, he let the wind move him, guiding his strength with its flow rather than against it. The pull eased, and the sail adjusted smoothly.
Matsyasen grinned. "Now you're learning."
Arjuna exhaled, feeling a strange sort of clarity. On the battlefield, he met force with force. But here, brute strength was not the answer. Adaptation was.
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Matsyaraj watched as Arjuna moved among the crew, his curiosity unbridled. Unlike the nobles Matsyaraj had met before-men who either barked orders or observed from a safe distance-this prince was different. He neither commanded nor hovered; he listened.
It started small.
When a young deckhand struggled to secure a knot, Arjuna crouched beside him, watching intently. "Your fingers hesitate," he noted, his tone not critical, but curious. "You fear the rope will slip?"
The boy-no older than sixteen-nodded hesitantly. "Aye, my lord. If the knot isn't tight, the cargo might fall."
Arjuna picked up a spare rope and studied the movements of the crew. Then, in a few fluid motions, he mimicked the knot perfectly. "Like this?"
The boy's eyes widened. "Aye! That's the way!"
Matsyaraj chuckled from his perch on a nearby barrel. "A warrior's hands, but quick like a sailor's," he murmured.
Later, when the winds turned unfavorable, the helmsman struggled against the stiffed ropes. Arjuna, passing by, placed his hands firmly beside the sailor's and braced against the force of the sea. "I've wrestled a few storms on land," he said with a grin, "but this one is quite the opponent."
The helmsman, at first startled, found himself smiling. "Aye, my prince. But like a good opponent, the sea respects those who don't falter."
Arjuna pushed forward, steadying the ropes to the sail until the worst of the winds passed. When he stepped back, he wiped sweat from his brow and gave the helmsman an appreciative nod. "I will remember that."
Matsyaraj stroked his beard. This boy is not here to impress but my lords does he make one
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The sky darkened as evening set in, the waves becoming choppier. The ship rocked harder, and Arjuna instinctively reached for the pole to steady himself.
Matsyasen chuckled. "A warrior stands alone, but a sailor? He never does. Watch."
At his command, the crew moved like clockwork: one adjusting the sails, another securing the ropes, another calling out changes in the wind. Each man knew his role, working in perfect harmony.
"You see, lad," Matsyasen said, "a captain without a crew is just a man shouting orders to the wind. A warrior can fights his battle alone, but a sailor? He trusts his people. He knows when to lead and when to listen."
Arjuna thought of his brothers- of Yudhishthira's wisdom, Bhima's might, Nakula and Sahadeva's quiet skill. He had always been their warrior, their protector. But how often had he listened? How often had he relied on them as much as they relied on him?
He looked back at the crew and nodded. "I understand."
Matsyasen clapped him on the back. "Good. Then you're ready for the last lesson."
Night fell, and the sea grew rougher. The sky rumbled, the first signs of a storm brewing.
Arjuna tightened his grip on the ropes. "Should we turn back?"
Matsyasen only laughed. "Turn back? This is when the real sailing begins."
Lightning flashed, illuminating the waves crashing against the ship. The wind howled, tearing through the sails. The crew moved fast, adjusting to the sudden change. Arjuna worked alongside them, hauling ropes, securing lines, and listening to Matsyasen's shouted orders.
And then, just as quickly as it came, the storm began to ease. The wind softened; the waves calmed.
Matsyasen leaned against the rail, watching the sea. "Life is like this, boy. One moment, the sky is clear. The next, you're fighting to stay afloat. A fool curses the storm. A wise man rides the waves."
Arjuna stared at the vast, endless horizon, the sea stretching beyond what his eyes could see. He thought of everything he had faced- battles, betrayal, loss, exile. He had fought against fate so many times, but perhaps... perhaps some things were not meant to be fought, but navigated.
Matsyasen gave him a knowing smile. "You hope you're thinking like a sailor now."
Arjuna turned, meeting the old man's eyes, and for the first time that day, he grinned.
"Maybe I am."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As the storm settled into a gentle night breeze, Matsyasen observed Arjuna with quiet admiration. The young prince had worked tirelessly alongside the sailors, his already callous hands got newer wounds from the rough ropes, his balance steady despite the shifting waves. Unlike many nobles Matsyasen had encountered in his years, Arjuna had not recoiled from the hard labor, nor had he demanded special treatment. He listened, learned, and adapted.
Matsyasen stroked his beard, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "I have seen many men step onto a ship thinking their strength or rank would command the sea. But you, boy- you are different. You are patient, you listen, and more than anything, you do not resist learning from those whose worlds differ from yours."
Arjuna smiled, leaning against the wooden railing, gazing out at the starlit ocean. "I once learned a lesson similar to this- though not from a sailor, but a miner."
Matsyasen raised an eyebrow. "A miner?"
Arjuna nodded, his gaze distant, as if recalling a memory from another life. "It was during one of the darkest times for my family-the Lakshagraha."
Matsyasen's amusement faded. He had heard the whispers-the house of lac, the flames, the Pandavas' miraculous survival. He said nothing, merely waiting.
"I was still young then," Arjuna continued, voice thoughtful. "Really just pampered prince, praised for every battle I won. I believed that with enough effort, anything was possible." He exhaled, shaking his head. "Then I met the miner."
Matsyasen leaned in slightly, curiosity evident.
"He was sent by Kakashree Vidura to carve a tunnel beneath the house, securing our escape. When I went to assist him, I thought he would be honored-a prince offering his help." Arjuna chuckled, a wry smile on his lips. "But he was as unyielding as the rock he worked through."
Matsyasen huffed in amusement. "And I assume he did not welcome your assistance?"
"Not in the slightest," Arjuna said with a laugh. "'A prince, like you, has no place with a pickaxe,' he told me. I argued-I was strong, my hands steady, my aim precise. Surely, I could help. But he wouldn't hear it."
Matsyasen chuckled. "I suspect that was the case." then he folded his arms. "And what did you do? Order him to let you help?"
Arjuna shook his head. "No. I watched. I was a bit offended at first." He turned to Matsyasen with a thoughtful expression. "But then, I realized, that miner- he was not just digging a tunnel. He was carving a path with precision, measuring each strike so that the tunnel would not collapse. His hands knew the language of the soil as intimately as mine knew the bow."
Matsyasen exhaled through his nose, impressed. "And so, you learned that mastery is not just about skill, but about understanding."
Arjuna nodded. "That night, before we left, I approached him again- not as a prince, but as a student. I thanked him for his service." His voice softened. "But he only looked at me and said, 'You are the master of your craft, just as I am the master of mine. There is no need for thanks. I have merely done my duty-so that my people may endure.'"
Arjuna turned to Matsyasen with a quiet smile. "I had won battles before, but that night, I learned what it truly meant to serve."
Matsyasen studied Arjuna for a long moment, his keen eyes reflecting the moonlight off the waves. "And that stayed with you, didn't it?"
Arjuna smiled slightly, tilting his head as if he could still hear the miner's gruff voice in the wind. "It did. At that moment, I realized something- I had spent my life mastering war, but mastery itself comes in many forms. That miner had no sword, no bow, but his hands held the fate of my family just as surely as mine held a battlefield."
He exhaled, running his fingers along the worn wood of the railing. "It was humbling." Matsyasen chuckled, shaking his head. "And now you stand here, a prince, humbled once more by the sea."
Arjuna smirked. "Seems to be a pattern, doesn't it?"
The old sailor leaned back, crossing his arms. "It is a good thing. The sea, like life, does not favor arrogance. It does not care for titles or birthright. It only respects those who are willing to listen, to learn, and to endure."
Arjuna let the words sink in. He had learned to command armies, to strategize, to fight against overwhelming odds- but patience, adaptability, and respect for forces greater than oneself were lessons he had only begun to truly grasp.
"You remind me of him, you know," Arjuna said after a while, glancing at Matsyasen.
The sailor arched an eyebrow. "Who? the miner?"
Arjuna grinned. "A master of his craft."
Matsyasen let out a hearty laugh, shaking his head. "A prince and his silver tongue."
Arjuna only smiled, turning back to the endless ocean. The sea stretched before him, deep and unknowable. But tonight, he felt just a little closer to understanding it.
Note: I'm genuinely horrible at naming characters... I will change the sailor's name once I find one better, I swear. ( ͡• ͜ʖ ͡• )