Epic Retold: The Mahabharata in Tweets (6 page)

‘Not yet,’ Yudhistira seems to be thinking straight again. ‘We will escape—but they must believe we perished.

‘We will not be safe by simply surviving one attempt,’ he continues. ‘What will they do when they think we are dead? We must know.’

I do not sleep much that night. Early the next morning, Arjuna and I go out to scout the forest. When we return, we find we have a guest.

It is a traveller come to pay obeisance to Yudhistira. After Purochana leaves the room, he reveals himself as Uncle Vidura’s messenger.

‘Purochana will set fire to the palace on the night of the new moon,’ he says. ‘But by then, there will be an escape route ready for you.’

He points to a corner. ‘See that spot? The tunnel we are digging will end there. I will be waiting at the other end on the seventh night.’

We learn from him that it was Sakuni who had come up with the idea of the wax palace. I had never liked Aunt Gandhari’s wily brother.

The next days are a blur. Purochana plays the perfect servant, attending to the details of the rites Mother has ordered for the new moon.

Brahmins arrive on the seventh morning to begin the prayers. Everything goes well through the day; Purochana has done his work well.

In the evening, after the brahmins leave, I hear a commotion outside. A beggar woman and five children stand at the door, waiting for alms.

I hear Mother behind me. ‘This is auspicious,’ she says, eyeing the family thoughtfully. ‘Give them food.’

As I turn to do her bidding, Mother stops me. ‘It is cold out here. Take them to the inner courtyard. Serve them there.’

The beggars eat like they have never seen food. Mother looks pleased, watching them with a curious half-smile.

She orders Sahadeva to serve them liquor. Our guests soon turn into a raucous bunch, yelling and screaming. Mother does not seem to mind.

A long time later, the beggar woman staggers to her feet, saying they had to leave. ‘You may sleep here tonight,’ Mother says casually.

Yudhistira and I look at each other. As Mother finally catches our eye and walks over, I begin, ‘Mother, have you forgotten? Tonight—’

‘I know. Tonight the palace will burn. And when the Kauravas come looking for charred bodies, they will find charred bodies.’

Mother walks away, leaving me speechless. I look at Yudhistira. He is staring into space. After a long silence, he clears his throat.

‘We must not worry,’ Yudhistira says, refusing to meet my eye. ‘They are only tribals—this must be their purpose in life.’

Soon I hear snores from the courtyard. Only tribals, I say to myself, sleeping their last sleep. I make my way quietly to Mother’s room.

Yudhistira, Arjuna and the twins are already there, clothes, arms packed. Mother is ready as well. There is only one more thing to do.

Stealthily, I move towards the room by the kitchen where Purochana sleeps. I hear movement inside; he is awake. I knock on the door.

Silence. After a long pause, the door opens. Knocking down the wick he holds aloft, I reach inside to grab Purochana by the throat.

The face I see in the dying flame is cruel. Ignoring his blows to my body, I begin to squeeze the life out of him. It does not take me long.

When it is over, I allow his body to fall to the ground. I have killed a man for the first time in my life. I feel no regret.

The floorboards are open at the spot Uncle Vidura’s man had marked when I return. Arjuna is scooping out the dark earth with a shovel.

Everyone looks at me. I nod. Yudhistira lets out a sigh. I jump in to help Arjuna. The mud is soft; my shovel breaks through in minutes.

I see light, hear voices below. Uncle Vidura’s men are waiting. The mouth of the tunnel is now wide enough for a man to pass through.

Arjuna is the first to drop down. I hear him grunt as he lands. I slide Mother down to him. The twins go next, then Yudhistira.

I have a final task. Running to the kitchen, I pick up a barrel of ghee. It takes only a moment to splash its contents around.

I run back, leaving a liquid trail behind, into the inner courtyard, where our guests sleep out their drunken stupor. They do not even stir.

The Kaurava treachery becomes clear when I touch the wick to the wet floor. Flames leap up to dance across the new wood with amazing speed.

I try to shut out the screams of the beggars as I race towards the tunnel. The smoke is thick. I trip, fall into the hole.

The mouth of the tunnel is lit with the approaching flames. ‘Hurry,’ Yudhistira says, helping me to my feet.

I turn to follow him. The screams from above are muffled. Only tribals, I whisper to myself.

The roof is low and we hurry along, bent almost double. By the time we reach the end, my back is in agony.

Hands reach down to help us up one by one. I look towards the palace. It is a blaze of orange against the black of the night.

HIDIMBI

EPISODE 7

TWEETS 64

The sun is high when I open my eyes. Mother is awake, but the others still sleep. Thirsty, I set out looking for water.

Our rescuers had helped us cross a river, then left us. We had stumbled on in the dark, camping when Mother could walk no further.

The rivulet I find collects into a small pond before streaming off again. Kneeling, I drink deep. Then I jump in for a much-needed wash.

Afterwards I begin to wonder how to carry water back. I fashion something out of lotus leaves, but it comes unstuck before I walk far.

I try again. Same result. As I throw away the leaves in disgust, I hear muffled laughter. Watching me is a tribal girl.

She stands tall, almost as tall as I am, her skin the colour of copper, deerskin wrapped around her waist. Her face is young, very young.

Motioning for me to wait, she disappears into the woods. When she returns, she hugs an armful of bamboo stems to her heaving chest.

‘Who are you?’ I ask, as she drops them at my feet.

‘Hidimbi,’ she replies, her eyes the colour of night devouring my face, no trace of fear in them.

She follows me silently. But as we approach the camp, she drops back, stops altogether. Then, with a slight shake of her head, she is gone.

Everyone is awake when I return. As they drink their fill, I tell them of the pond and the tribal girl. Yudhistira looks disapproving.

‘Be careful,’ he says. ‘These tribals know witchcraft. Who knows what she—’ he stops, hearing a faint noise.

Hidimbi has reappeared, a load of fruits and berries in her arms. She walks up to Mother, bows low and spreads her offerings on the ground.

Mother asks something softly. Hidimbi responds, touches her forehead to the ground and is gone again, throwing me a lingering glance.

I sense her silent presence all through the morning as I hunt. But it is only in the late afternoon she lets me catch sight of her.

She walks up to me, a faint smile at the corners of her mouth. Her eyes hold mine boldly. Why do they tease me so?

There is a child’s curiosity in the hand that reaches to touch my face. Rough fingers stroke my cheek, my lips, my chin. Gently.

Burning, I stay her hand. The eyes that look into mine are not those of a child; no smile plays on her lips now. I pull her to me roughly.

She engulfs me like wildfire. Thoughts burn to ashes as the flame in me answers.

Later, much later, she walks by my side as I head back in the dusk. ‘Do you have family?’ I ask.

‘A brother,’ Hidimbi says. ‘He hunts elsewhere. I do not see him much.’

We stop short of the camp. Hearing the voices of Nakula and Sahadeva, Hidimbi disappears into the darkness.

The twins tell me Yudhistira has sent them to look for me. My elder brother makes his displeasure clear when we return.

Didn’t I know the forest is not safe at night? What was I thinking, wandering so far, leaving the camp unprotected?

I listen to Yudhistira’s tirade silently. I do not feel like telling him about the girl with the rough hands and copper skin.

As days pass, we settle into our new lives. It is a return to the time before Father died, when we lived in the forest—before Hastinapur.

Most mornings, I join Arjuna in archery. He has rigged up targets all around; he practises relentlessly.

Later, once the camp chores are done, I roam the forest unencumbered—and always, the girl with the copper skin keeps me company.

Except that day.

Hidimbi does not appear even when the sun begins to fade. The forest is unusually quiet; something has upset the game.

It is as I kneel down for a drink by a wayside pond that I hear the trample of feet. Someone—something—is approaching me at a dead run.

The forester who emerges is taller than me. Thick muscles coil like ropes down his arms, which hang loose almost to his knees.

Grunting like a wild boar, he rushes forward. His kick could fell a small tree. Rolling under its impact, I scramble to my feet.

The forester is fast. Before I can crouch into a fighting stance, he has swung around. It is with difficulty I avoid his long arms.

I hit out at his exposed neck. Before he recovers, I jump on his back, wrapping my right arm around his throat.

We fall heavily. Ignoring the hands that struggle to tear my arm away, I pin him down with my knees and torso. I yank his head back.

The choking noises he makes are music to my ears. I tighten my grip and tug with all my strength, twisting his face towards me.

The crack of the neck is distinct. Bhimasena has killed again.

As I rise, breathing heavily, Arjuna rushes to me. I had not seen him arrive.

‘I could have finished him with an arrow,’ he says, smiling. ‘But I did not think Bhimasena needed help.’

It feels good to see the pride in Arjuna’s eyes. I am strong, invincible—like my father, the all-powerful God of Wind.

But that feeling does not last. Hearing a sound, I turn around. Hidimbi is kneeling by the forester’s twisted body.

The eyes that meet mine are moist. I know the truth before she voices it.

‘You killed my brother.’

Wordless, I walk away. The mighty Bhimasena has not won after all.

She comes to me later, after the sun is long gone. Rough fingers touch my cheek gently, turning my face to hers.

‘I am glad you are alive,’ she says.

In the morning, I walk with her to the camp, leading her by the hand to where Mother sits. As Hidimbi prostrates, I say:

‘From today she will be your daughter, my bride.’

Mother’s face shows no surprise. Nor pleasure. She raises her hand in blessing, touching Hidimbi’s forehead, and murmurs words of welcome.

Yudhistira looks flustered when Hidimbi kneels before him. But quickly gathering himself, he greets her, offering us his blessings.

As Arjuna, Nakula and Sahadeva gather around, I see Hidimbi watching me. Her eyes are moist again.

The days that follow are blissful. I have never felt so happy, so peaceful—not since I walked into the palace of Hastinapur as a child.

I forget Duryodhana, I forget Karna, I forget the treachery in the eyes of the blind king: it is a different fire that is burning in me now.

Weeks fly by. Then one day, when we return from the forest, I find the twins breaking camp. Mother says, ‘It is time for us to go.’

A sage had come by with a message from Uncle Vidura that morning. We were to move immediately to Ekachakra, a village of brahmins.

As Hidimbi begins to ready food for the journey, Mother says to me quietly: ‘We cannot take her with us.’

Seeing the disbelief on my face, Yudhistira says, ‘We will be living in disguise, as brahmins. Hidimbi will not fit in.’

‘She is bearing my child,’ I say.

Yudhistira turns away.

Speechless, I look towards Hidimbi. She is staring at me.

The touch on my shoulder is light. As I face her, I battle for words—a battle I lose. ‘I must go,’ I say finally.

There is no anger, no reproach in the eyes that look into mine. Instead they are fathomless pools of grief.

I drown.