“Love! Ma... Today I want to hear a love story. Will you tell me one, please?”

The child’s eyes sparkled with curiosity, a soft breeze ruffling the curtain behind them as the golden hour of dusk cast its gentle glow across the room.

“A love story?” the mother repeated with a tender smile, running her fingers through her child’s hair. “Very well then. Which one would you like to hear? The divine saga of Radha and Krishna?”

“No maa! I already know that one,” the child interrupted eagerly. “They danced in Vrindavan, didn’t they? I’ve heard it so many times!”

The mother chuckled softly. “Of course you have. Then perhaps the eternal tale of Shiva and Shakti? Their union and separation, their tandava of love and power?”

“That too, maa. It’s beautiful, but familiar. Maybe... something different today. A story that not everyone knows. Something... unsung.”

The mother paused. Her smile deepened, touched with a quiet reverence. She placed a gentle hand on the child’s cheek.

“Ah! So you wish to listen to a love story that is hidden beneath the folds of time... a tale uncelebrated in poems, yet eternal in spirit. Then listen closely, my dear. I shall tell you the story of the Princess of Dwarka and the Prince of Indraprastha.”

The child blinked, intrigued. “Who are they, maa?”

The mother leaned in, her voice dropping into a warm whisper, the way old legends are meant to be spoken.

“They are the eternal lovers. The finite forms of the infinite. They are believed to be fragments of Shiva and Shakti themselves. You know the Mahabharata, don’t you?”

“Of course I do!” the child beamed proudly. “The Pandavas, the Kurukshetra war—I know it all!”

The mother’s eyes twinkled. “Then you must know Arjun.”

“Obviously! The greatest archer! Krishna’s dear friend!”

“Yes,” the mother nodded, “and his heartbeat, his true love, was none other than Subhadra—the sister of Krishna and Balaram.”

“Subhadra!” the child exclaimed, surprised. “I didn’t know they were in love! Tell me more!”

The mother’s gaze drifted toward the window, as if watching the past come alive beyond the horizon.

“Their love was quiet, but fierce. It was not sung as Radha-Krishna’s was, nor written in verses like Rama and Sita’s. But it was real. Brave. Boundless. Did you know that even today, in Rajasthan, there is a village named Bhadrarjun? It is said to be named after them—Subhadra and Arjun.”

The child’s eyes widened. “That’s beautiful!”

The mother’s voice grew serious, loving. “But remember, my child—such stories are not only meant to entertain. They are meant to teach. From Arjun and Subhadra, you shall learn about love that defies rules, the courage to choose your heart’s path, and the strength it takes to protect it. Are you ready to learn, not just listen?”

The child nodded, eyes gleaming with excitement and reverence.

“Yes maa! I will listen with all my heart. Please begin... I want to dive deep into their world... into their love.”

The mother took a deep breath, as if opening the first page of a sacred book stored in her soul.

“Then let us begin with a kingdom by the sea, a warrior with a vow, and a princess with fire in her soul...”