Epic Retold: The Mahabharata in Tweets (9 page)

To return to Hastinapur was not wise. Even with Bhishma and Uncle Vidura there, we were not safe.

It was only a matter of time before the blind king pretended not to see as Duryodhana hatched another plot to kill us.

But staying with our in-laws forever was not an option. The kingdom was partly ours and the sooner we staked claim the better.

The negotiations ended when Uncle Vidura visited us with the message that Dritarashtra had finally agreed to partition the kingdom.

We were offered forestland, while the Kauravas retained Hastinapur. But Uncle Vidura and King Drupada persuaded us to take it.

‘You can build your own capital there,’ Drupada said. ‘Turn it into a kingdom richer than Hastinapur—that would be your challenge.’

Our move to Khandava was quiet. But within days, artisans and craftsmen begin to arrive in droves. A settlement grew steadily around us.

Bhishma sent money and grains from Hastinapur. So did King Drupada from Panchala. Expensive presents also arrived from Krishna.

As we began clearing the forests to make way for new buildings, Yudhistira started his honeymoon in the old palace that stood on the site.

Mother had laid down the law: Draupadi would spend a year with each of us—and, as eldest, Yudhistira would be her husband first.

That suited our elder brother very well. He rarely came out of the palace, leaving me to supervise the construction work.

Arjuna did not stay long in Khandava. One evening when I returned to my quarters, I found he had left hurriedly. Pilgrimage.

Months passed. The contours of a capital began taking shape around us. We began to call it Indraprastha.

But the restlessness inside me grew. My place wasn’t here. Not until I knew what became of the girl I had left behind.

Nakula and Sahadeva had taken over directing the building works. They didn’t protest when I said I would leave the next morning.

Visoka, who had arrived with the masons from Hastinapur, had the chariot ready at first light. The camp was stirring to life when we left.

Without telling him where, I instructed Visoka to head in the direction of Varanavata. We hunted when we were hungry. Slept by the wayside.

When we finally reached the town, I guided him on to the forest path. The lodge we once stayed in looked desolate as we drove past.

We made our way deeper into the forest. Coming to the slope where Purochana had tried to burn us alive, I stopped the chariot.

The last time I had seen this Kaurava treachery was from a distance, when it looked like the hill was on fire.

I came to where the palace once stood. There was nothing there, not even rubble, just charred earth marking the evil of a blind old king.

Thinking of the beggar woman and her children who died in our stead, I returned to the chariot and, wordlessly, motioned Visoka to drive on.

‘Should we try to cross here?’ Visoka’s doubtful voice cut into my thoughts.

He was eyeing the tributary of the Ganga that blocked our path. Uncle Vidura’s men had helped us across in a boat the night of our escape.

Seeing that the water was too deep for the chariot to cross safely, I alighted. It was better that I went alone anyway.

‘Rest the horses,’ I told Visoka. ‘I will be back before the third nightfall.’

The river was only waist-deep. I waded across without difficulty. When I looked back, Visoka was watering the horses.

It took me some time to find the path we had taken after our escape. The grass had grown wild; no one had passed this way for months.

By the time I reached where we first camped, it was pitch dark. I could hear the gurgle of running water in the distance.

With trepidation, I set off towards the rivulet Mother had used as our water source. Now I only had to follow it downstream.

The pond was visible even in the darkness, its surface glimmering in the light of the broken moon that filtered in through the clearing.

This was where I had found Hidimbi.

A wild boar dashed away from the water as I approached. I did not bother raising my spear. I had not eaten, but I was not hungry.

Kneeling by the pond, I splattered water on my face. I drank deep. Then, leaning against a large rock nearby, I waited for the morning.

I had sat here, on the exact spot, with Hidimbi a thousand times. Did she come here still? Did she bring my son here?

My son. I had always thought of our child as a son. Someone who would grow up taller, stronger, mightier than the mighty Bhimasena.

What did Hidimbi call him?

It was light when I awoke, unrested. A herd of wild goats raised their heads from the water and eyed me warily as I approached.

After a swim, I went into the forests. I was hungry again. Hidimbi had shown me where to look for wild berries and honey.

There were no footprints on the dry grass. No signs of human life. Even the honeycombs looked untouched when I reached them.

Quelling the sense of unease within me, I wandered deeper. Unscathed woods, untroubled game. No one had hunted here for a while.

Dejected, I returned to the pond. No one waited for me there.

In the evening I hunted listlessly, then slept curled by the same rock. Morning came, then noon. No Hidimbi.

She was too good a hunter not to know I was here. If she had not found me yet, she did not want to find me.

Either way, I could not blame her.

The sun was low when I returned to the river. By the time I crossed, Visoka was ready with the chariot.

‘Where to?’

‘Anywhere. Not home.’

Weeks later, when we saw the Ganga, Visoka said we were in Kashi. Another dusty one-town kingdom like the scores we had ridden through.

Stopping on its outskirts, Visoka insisted on trimming my hair and beard. Then, after bathing in the Ganga, we set off on foot.

I had never seen so much silk merchandise as I saw in Kashi. The place was bursting with the beautiful fabric in every imaginable hue.

I saw her after I sent Visoka to talk to the weavers. I was sure our women would welcome it if they brought their work to Indraprastha.

Did I say I saw her? It was more a fleeting glance as a three-horse chariot passed through. It flew a flag I didn’t recognize.

Thick black hair framed a face so familiar that I caught my breath. Her skin was lighter, shades lighter, but she had the same large eyes.

A Hidimbi in finery. Who was this girl?

‘Balandhara, sister of the King of Kashi.’ I had not noticed Visoka’s return. ‘It is her swayamvara in a few days.’

When I did not respond, he added pointedly, ‘An alliance would be good for Indraprastha. Think of the trade that could come our way!’

Though I had scoffed at his pragmatism, I found myself reluctant to leave Kashi. Visoka was happy when I said we would stay the night.

And now, another night after, here I am still, unable to forget the girl I had seen. Still unsure whether to pursue her or move on.

THE OTHER HIDIMBI

EPISODE 12

TWEETS 83

In the morning Visoka makes the decision for me. The chariot is ready, flying the Indraprastha flag, even as I walk to the river.

Visoka hands me a fresh robe of blue silk on my return. Then, a golden sash for my waist and a twelve-strand necklace strung with pearls.

He laughs at the surprise on my face. ‘You get the finest of silks here! Bhimasena cannot go to a palace looking like a mendicant!’

The main street leading to the palace is lined with curious onlookers. The palace itself is unimpressive—quarter the size of Hastinapur.

An attendant rushes forward to collect the chariot as we enter the courtyard. Visoka jumps down, handing him the reins.

‘Hmm, no competition here,’ he tells me, studying the flags on the chariots at rest. ‘All rulers of small kingdoms.’

Still, I am apprehensive as we approach the main doors. There is no contest, no test of strength here. The bride chooses, from her heart.

Who can tell what passion lies in a woman’s heart?

Inside the hall, maids stand in line to welcome us. I bow as one reaches with a garland. Smiling, she dots sandal paste on my forehead.

‘This is Bhimasena,’ Visoka announces, bowing to a group of men standing by the doors. ‘Second in line to the throne of Indraprastha.’

The men bow towards me, murmuring indifferent greetings. It is obvious Indraprastha does not rate much with the Kashi royals.

‘Bhimasena? I know of a brother of Arjuna by that name,’ a youth at the centre of the group says. ‘Bhimasena of Hastinapur?’

‘This is Arjuna’s elder brother,’ Visoka says. ‘Also younger brother to Yudhistira, who now rules Indraprastha.’

The air of indifference vanishes. The youth rushes forward to embrace me warmly. He introduces himself as Sanesan, king of Kashi.

‘I am honoured,’ he says. ‘We have heard so much about Arjuna.’

I had hoped for a quiet entrance, but the reception suddenly becomes overwhelming. Sanesan personally ushers me to a seat in the first row.

Around me, people are turning to look at ‘Arjuna’s brother’. When had my younger brother become so famous?

A blare of conches announces the bride. After seeking blessings from elders, the girl I saw in the chariot walks forward, garland in hand.

As she reaches where we sit, a minstrel begins to sing praises of each contestant. I am third in row. I wait in trepidation.

I rise when it is my turn. She is tall, though not as tall as Hidimbi. As she approaches, an announcer begins to introduce me.

‘The mighty warrior Bhimasena, strong as Vaayu, the God of Wind. Younger brother to the righteous Pandava king Yudhistira.

‘Elder brother to the valiant Arjuna, who single-handedly defeated the Yadava army to wed Krishna’s sister Subhadra!’

Arjuna has wed Krishna’s sister? I have been away too long.

In the announcer’s words, my clashes in the forests become epic battles; Hidimba and Baka become descendants of Ravana, the demon king.

As the embarrassing eulogy continues, the bride steps forward. She takes in my red face. Her arms rise. I feel the garland fall on my neck!

Sanesan rushes to embrace me. Around me, the contestants are applauding. I glance at the new girl who had entered my life.

Balandhara looks happy.

After the rites the celebrations stretch on long into the evening, into the night. Balandhara is waiting when I enter the bedchamber.

When the last of the maids leave, quietly shutting the doors, I walk towards the bed. It must be the liquor that makes me so unsteady.

Soft laughter echoes in the room as I stumble and sit down heavily. Balandhara is lowering the wick of the ghee lamps one by one.

‘Draupadi will now have to share you with another woman! What will she say?’

Balandhara is smiling, but for some reason, I feel she is serious.

‘What can she say?’ I respond, feigning an indifference I do not feel. ‘Draupadi knows kshatriyas have more than one wife!’

‘And the forest woman? Surely she has a claim too!’

Is that laughter I hear in Balandhara’s voice? Anger makes me pull her to me roughly, drives my passion.

Afterwards, as sleep submerges my senses, I see her. She lies next to me by the pool where we first met. A half-moon shines on us.

I reach for her. ‘Hidimbi,’ I murmur as thick black hair envelopes my face.

The naked body next to me stiffens. She moves away. In the flickering light, I watch her sit up, gathering her hair into a loose knot.

‘Dawn is breaking,’ Balandhara says, without turning around. ‘Time we got ready.’

Sanesan sees us off generously. His gifts—chests of gold, silver plates with ornate carving, bundles of the purest silk—fill a chariot.

Water, grains and liquor are loaded into another. Four escorts, including two of Balandhara’s closest maids, travel in it.

Visoka heads in the general direction of Indraprastha. ‘Do not hurry,’ I tell him. ‘There is plenty to see between Kashi and Khandava.’

We finally approach Indraprastha late one evening. In my absence, tracts of forest have been cleared. Charred tree stumps dot the area.