Draupadi and Satyabhama - On Managing Five Husbands

The garden in Indraprastha was quiet. Satyabhama had come with Krishna for the Rajasuya, but her real purpose was this conversation.

Satyabhama: "I have to ask, Everyone wants to ask. Five husbands. How?"

Draupadi: "How do I manage them? Or how did I get into this situation?"

Satyabhama: "Both. Either. I can barely keep Krishna's attention, and he's just one man. You have five, and they all seem... devoted."

Draupadi: "Seem. Let me tell you about 'seem.'"

Satyabhama: "Please."

Draupadi: "Yudhishthira sees me as duty. I am his wife because dharma required it. He's kind, but I sometimes wonder if he truly knows who I am—or if he's simply performing the role of husband as he performs every role."

Satyabhama: "That sounds lonely."

Draupadi: "It is. Then there's Bhima. He sees me as something to protect. I'm precious to him—but precious like a treasure, something to guard. His love is fierce but simple. I'm not sure he's ever wondered what I think."

Satyabhama: "Arjuna?"

Draupadi: "Arjuna loves me. Genuinely, deeply. But he loves his bow more. He loves his skill. He loves Krishna. I am somewhere in that list, but I don't know where."

Satyabhama: "And the twins?"

Draupadi: "Nakula and Sahadeva are sweet. Young when we married, still young in some ways now. They respect me, care for me—but we've never developed the intimacy that comes from struggle. They're... pleasant. Uncomplicated."

Satyabhama was quiet.

Satyabhama: "You make it sound terrible."

Draupadi: "I make it sound true. Which is different. You asked for my secret. Here it is: I don't try to be loved. I try to be necessary."

Satyabhama: "Necessary?"

Draupadi: "Each of them needs something I provide. Yudhishthira needs someone who challenges his righteousness—he's surrounded by yes-men, and I'm the one who says no. Bhima needs someone to protect; it gives his strength purpose. Arjuna needs someone who sees through his glory to the doubt beneath. The twins need a mother-figure more than a wife, and I provide that too."

Satyabhama: "You're describing service, not love."

Draupadi: "Service creates need. Need creates attachment. Attachment, over time, becomes something that looks like love. I could have spent my life waiting to be loved. Waiting for five men to see me, understand me, cherish me for myself. I would have waited forever."

Satyabhama: "So you gave up?"

Draupadi: "I adapted. I became indispensable. I learned each husband's weaknesses and made myself the solution to them. Is that love? Maybe not. But it's power. And power, in a world that treats women as property, is more reliable than love."

Satyabhama sat back.

Satyabhama: "I try to make Krishna jealous. He never is."

Draupadi: "Jealousy only works on the insecure. Krishna is not insecure. Try something else."

Satyabhama: "What?"

Draupadi: "Interest. Ask him questions he hasn't been asked. Challenge his thinking. Most people worship him or use him. Few actually engage with him as an equal. Do that."

Satyabhama: "You think that would work?"

Draupadi: "I think gods and heroes are surrounded by devotees. They're starving for peers. That's my final secret. I don't worship my husbands. I don't need them to save me. I stand with them, not behind them. That makes me interesting. And interesting is more lasting than beautiful."

Satyabhama: "You're beautiful too."

Draupadi: "Beauty fades. Especially after five pregnancies and thirteen years of exile. But intelligence, strength, the ability to see clearly—these grow with age. Invest in those."

Satyabhama nodded slowly.

Satyabhama: "I came here expecting a trick. A ritual. Some magic."

Draupadi: "The only magic is knowing what you're worth and refusing to accept less. That's harder than any ritual. But it works."

They walked back toward the palace together—two women married to extraordinary men, comparing notes on survival.