In Kurukshetra's blaze, his fury did rise,
A warrior condemned, beneath endless skies.
The cursed jewel burned, his immortality grim,
A shadow of wrath, his future dim.
Bound by sorrow, he wandered alone,
A relic of vengeance, his sins to atone.

Yet in Kalki's age, the tides shall shift,
The immortal finds purpose, a redemptive gift.
From destroyer to guide, his role redefined,
A hand of justice, with fate intertwined.
Two paths converge, his burden to light—
Ashwathama, reborn in dharma’s sight.