Draupadi Vastra Haran

Dadi: "*sits quietly for a moment* Guddu, tonight I'm going to tell you a story that is hard to hear. But it's important. It's the story of why the great war of Kurukshetra happened."

Guddu: "The Mahabharata war? I thought it was about who gets to be king?"

Dadi: "On the surface, yes. But the real fuel for that war - the moment when there was no going back - was the day Draupadi was humiliated in the royal court. It's called the Vastra Haran - the disrobing."

Guddu: "*senses Dadi's serious tone* What happened, Dadi?"

Dadi: "It started with a game of dice. Do you know Duryodhana, the eldest of the hundred Kaurava brothers?"

Guddu: "The bad one who was always jealous of the Pandavas?"

Dadi: "Yes. He couldn't stand that his cousin Yudhishthira had become such a great and respected king. Duryodhana burned with jealousy. So he and his wicked uncle Shakuni made a plan."

Guddu: "What kind of plan?"

Dadi: "They knew Yudhishthira had one weakness - he couldn't refuse a challenge to play dice. And Shakuni had magical dice that would roll however he wanted them to. They invited Yudhishthira to a "friendly" game."

Guddu: "Oh no. It was a trap!"

Dadi: "A terrible trap. But Yudhishthira was a king, and refusing a challenge was considered cowardly. So despite warnings from his wife Draupadi and his brothers, he went to play."

Guddu: "And Shakuni cheated?"

Dadi: "Completely. Roll after roll, Yudhishthira lost. First his wealth. Then his kingdom. Then... *voice trembles* ...he lost his four brothers, making them slaves. Then himself. And then, in a moment of desperate madness, he did the unthinkable."

Guddu: "*whispers* What?"

Dadi: "He wagered Draupadi. His wife. The queen. And he lost her too."

Guddu: "How could he do that?! You can't bet a person!"

Dadi: "*nods slowly* That's exactly the question that echoes through this entire story. How could he? How could anyone?"

Guddu: "So what happened next?"

Dadi: "Duryodhana was overjoyed. He immediately sent his brother Dushasana to bring Draupadi to the assembly hall. When the messenger came to her private chambers, Draupadi was in a state where she shouldn't be seen publicly. She sent back a question - "Go ask the assembly: did Yudhishthira lose himself first, or me? If he was already a slave when he bet me, then he had no right to do so. A slave cannot wager what he doesn't own.""

Guddu: "That's really smart! What did they say?"

Dadi: "The question stumped even the wisest elders in the court. But Dushasana didn't care about legal arguments. He went to her chambers and... *pauses* ...he dragged her by her hair into the full court."

Guddu: "*gasps* By her hair?!"

Dadi: "The great queen of the Pandavas, the princess of Panchala, the woman who had emerged from sacred fire - dragged like a criminal before hundreds of men. And her husbands, the mighty Pandavas, sat there bound by their word of honor, unable to help her."

Guddu: "Why didn't the elders stop it? Bhishma? Drona? All those great warriors?"

Dadi: "*sighs heavily* They sat silent, Guddu. Bound by their loyalty to the throne, paralyzed by protocol, they watched and did nothing. Only Vidura spoke against it, but he was shouted down."

Guddu: "That's... that's horrible."

Dadi: "Then Duryodhana did something even more vile. He slapped his thigh and mocked Draupadi, inviting her to sit on his lap. Bhima, unable to contain his fury, took a terrible vow right there - that one day he would break that very thigh."

Guddu: "Did he? Later, I mean?"

Dadi: "He did. In the final war. But we're not there yet. Because then came the worst moment. Duryodhana ordered Dushasana to strip Draupadi of her clothes. Right there. In front of everyone."

Guddu: "*horrified* In front of everyone?! But... but..."

Dadi: "*takes Guddu's hands* Yes, beta. This is why this story is important. The worst things humans can do to each other don't happen in dark alleys. Sometimes they happen in broad daylight, in courts full of wise people, when everyone is too afraid or too compliant to say "stop.""

Guddu: "What happened?"

Dadi: "Dushasana grabbed her sari and began to pull. Draupadi, abandoned by every human protector, did the only thing left to her. She raised her hands to the sky and called out to Krishna - not to save her from embarrassment, but to save dharma itself. She surrendered completely to the divine."

Guddu: "And Krishna came?"

Dadi: "Not physically. But a miracle happened. As Dushasana pulled at her sari, the cloth never ended. Yard after yard, it kept coming. Her modesty was protected by divine grace. Dushasana pulled until he collapsed from exhaustion, surrounded by mountains of fabric, and still Draupadi stood clothed."

Guddu: "Krishna saved her!"

Dadi: "Yes. But Guddu, notice - the miracle came only after she had completely surrendered, after she had stopped depending on human help that wasn't coming. In her darkest moment, when every earthly support failed, the divine stepped in."

Guddu: "What happened after?"

Dadi: "*voice hardening* Draupadi stood in that court and spoke words that still echo through time. With her hair loose and disheveled, she vowed that she would not tie it until it was washed with the blood of Dushasana. She cursed the house of Kauravas. She looked at the silent elders and said, "Shame on you all.""

Guddu: "Did the Kauravas feel bad at all?"

Dadi: "Dhritarashtra, the blind king and father of the Kauravas, finally intervened - perhaps afraid of the curses, perhaps ashamed. He offered Draupadi boons. She asked only for her husbands' freedom. And so the Pandavas were freed, but the damage was done."

Guddu: "The war became certain after this, didn't it?"

Dadi: "Yes. Some things cannot be forgiven. Some wounds don't heal. Every attempt at peace afterward failed because of what happened that day. The Vastra Haran didn't just dishonor Draupadi - it revealed the moral bankruptcy at the heart of the Kaurava court. A kingdom that could allow such a thing had to fall."

Guddu: "*quietly* Dadi, why do you tell me stories like this?"

Dadi: "*hugs Guddu* Because the world still has Duryodhanas. People who think power gives them the right to humiliate others. The world still has silent Bhishmas - good people who watch wrong happen and say nothing. And sometimes, there are Draupadis - people who have no protection except their own courage and their faith."

Guddu: "Which one should I be?"

Dadi: "Never be silent when you see injustice. Never think that being polite is more important than being right. And when you have power - and someday you will - remember that the measure of your strength is how you treat those who cannot fight back."

Guddu: "What about the faith part? Calling out to Krishna?"

Dadi: "That comes when you've done everything you can and it's not enough. It's not a substitute for action - Draupadi asked her question, she argued her case, she protested. Only when all human options were exhausted did she surrender to the divine. And the divine responded."

Guddu: "Her hair... did she ever tie it again?"

Dadi: "*small sad smile* Fourteen years later, on the battlefield of Kurukshetra, Bhima killed Dushasana and brought his blood to Draupadi. Only then did she finally tie up her hair. Fourteen years she waited, never forgetting, never letting anyone forget."

Guddu: "That's a long time to carry anger."

Dadi: "It wasn't just anger, beta. It was a promise. A reminder to the world that some wrongs demand consequences. That victims don't have to "forgive and forget" when justice has never been served. Sometimes memory itself is a form of resistance."

Guddu: "*thinks* This story has so many lessons..."

Dadi: "It does. About power and its abuse. About silence and complicity. About faith when all else fails. About the long arc of justice. About why we must build a world where no Draupadi ever has to stand alone. This is why we tell this story, generation after generation. So we remember. So we do better."

Guddu: "Thank you, Dadi. For telling me even the hard stories."

Dadi: "The hard stories are the most important ones, beta. Because the world is not always kind, and you need to know that - not to be afraid, but to be prepared. To be the one who speaks up. To be the one who doesn't look away."