Mahabharata

In ancient lands where valour bloomed, Two clans entwined, their fate consumed. Pandavas, noble, five in kin, Kauravas, fierce, their strife begins.

Dhritarashtra, blind and torn, His hundred sons, ambition sworn. Yudhishthira, righteous and wise, Duryodhana, envy’s guise.

Karna, sun-kissed, a secret kept, His lineage veiled, destiny swept. Draupadi, fire-born and fair, Her swayamvara, a tale to bear.

Battles raged on Kurukshetra’s plain, Arrows sang, gods wept in pain. Bhishma, the grandsire, bound by oath, Lay on a bed of arrows, his valor cloaked.

Krishna, the charioteer, sage, and friend, Guided Arjuna, hearts to mend. The cosmic dance of right and wrong, In Mahabharata’s verses, forever strong.

So let the lions tell their tale, Of honor, love, and kingdoms frail. For in this epic’s vast embrace, Lies humanity’s eternal grace.