Chapter 30: The Messenger – Peace or War

The news shattered the calm of Hastinapura like thunder in a sleeping court:

The Pandavas had returned. The exile was over. Arjuna had revealed himself after the thirteenth year.

Duryodhana crushed a goblet in his hand when he heard.

"Impossible," he growled. "We were watching. They cheated."

But the elders knew better. The laws of the vow had been fulfilled—to the very letter. And now, the sons of Pandu were returning. Not as wanderers, but as claimants.

In Upaplavya, a city near Matsya where the Pandavas now resided, preparations were already underway. Kings from distant lands gathered around Yudhishthira once again. Allies rose—Drupada, Virata, Kekaya, Chedi, and more.

Draupadi sat silent, her eyes on fire.

Bhima sharpened his mace daily, grinding the stone like bone.

Arjuna cleaned Gandiva with prayers, his silence heavier than any chant.

But still, Yudhishthira hesitated.

He looked at Krishna. "I do not desire war. Let me try once more. Let me ask for peace."

Krishna nodded. "Then I will go. Not as a king, not as a warrior—but as a messenger."

Krishna's chariot rolled into Hastinapura with no banners, no conches. But the city paused when he passed. People whispered. Children ran beside the wheels.

In the court, the Kauravas waited.

Dhritarashtra trembled in his seat. Drona stood with arms folded. Bhishma, still and noble, watched with tired eyes. Vidura looked hopeful.

And Duryodhana… Duryodhana smirked. Karna stood beside him, arms crossed.

Krishna entered and stood before the court with no fear, no anger—only clarity.

"I come on behalf of the Pandavas," he said. "They ask for peace. They do not demand Indraprastha, nor revenge. They ask only for five villages. Five. For each of the sons of Pandu. Let there be no more blood."

The court was silent.

Then Duryodhana rose. "They shall not get land enough to drive a needle through! Let them fight if they want it."

Gasps filled the hall.

Bhishma turned away in shame.

Vidura closed his eyes.

Krishna's face remained still, but his voice changed—like the calm before a storm.

"You refuse peace.

You insult justice.

You march toward the fire—and I shall now show you what walks with me."

Then, before the entire court, Krishna revealed his true form.

Vishvarupa.

His eyes held stars. His breath shook the pillars. Countless heads, countless arms, weapons blazing like comets. The universe itself seemed to bow.

Even Bhishma dropped to his knees.

Drona gasped, "This… is the Supreme."

Duryodhana fell back, blinded, terrified—but pride still clung to him like rot.

And then Krishna returned to his human form.

"You had your chance. When war begins, do not say I did not offer peace."

He left without another word.

Back in Upaplavya, the message was clear.

There would be no compromise. No more games. No more courtly deceit.

Yudhishthira looked at his brothers.

"We tried every path. Now only one remains."

And so, the conches were gathered. The armors fitted. The bows strung.

The drums of war began to echo through Bharat.

The Kurukshetra war… was coming.