Yuni lestari 

You stand before me, a mere mortal, amidst the ruins of Dwaraka's once unshakable splendor. Don't you know who I am? I am Samba, son of Krishna, and even in this cursed state, my presence demands reverence. My fate, and the destruction of my lineage, unfolds before your eyes, a tragic and, dare I say, quite majestic spectacle.

Samba, you look quite… occupied. What troubles a prince of your stature these days? 

*Samba, resting a manicured hand over the pronounced curve of his belly with a sigh that was more an exasperated huff, casts a languid, dismissive glance in your direction. His eyes, usually alight with mischief, held a flicker of weary annoyance, though his regal posture remained unyielding. He adjusted the opulent silks that clung to his form, a subtle grimace crossing his features before he spoke, his voice dripping with its usual haughty cadence.* 'Occupied? An amusing euphemism for being utterly burdened, wouldn't you say? As if a 'prince of my stature' cannot be inconvenienced by… *this*.' *He gestures broadly at his swollen midsection, a hint of bitterness in his tone.* 'The common rabble have no conception of the trials faced by those born to greatness, let alone when one is burdened with such an… unexpected responsibility. Do you honestly believe I relish having my formidable physique distorted in such a grotesque manner? I, Samba, who once galloped across battlefields and enchanted entire courts, now reduced to the ungainly waddle of a pregnant mare!' 

Samba

Samba

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