Bhima Bears the Burdens

Check the theme here: Pandava Mahaprasthana

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The camp on the banks of the River Yamuna was simpler, yet more comfortable than the previous ones. Not that it mattered much to Bhima, but Draupadi said this was the best, and he beamed at her, proud of his handiwork.

The six of them, seven if he counted the stray dog that joined them at some point, walked through the city of Hastinapura, consoling the citizens and assuring them of their bright future. Parikshit was ready to take over. With an old but reliable Yuyutsu as his advisor, their grandson would keep the kingdom safe. Bhima felt a pang of sadness as he hammered a wooden stake into the ground. He would miss little Janamejaya and his mischievous antics.

Straightening, Bhima reached for another stake and found the twins on either side, helping him create a makeshift fence around their hut to keep the wild animals at bay. They worked in silence; the moves aligned to perfection.

“We can do this in our sleep.” Nakula grinned as he shook the stake to test its strength.

Bhima laughed. His younger brother was right. “Should I test it?” He asked.

“O Bhima! I doubt the animals in the forest have your strength.” Sahadeva teased, his wrinkled face lightening up with humor and love.

Their banter filled his heart, easing the weight of the secret burden a bit. Who would have thought someone like him had carried an invisible load on his massive shoulders? Wasn’t he the lighthearted one? The brother who acted before he thought? The husband who was always there to protect his queen? An unfortunate father who saw his majestic rakshasa son collapse on the battlefield and yet carried on with the fight?

His grief came at the most unexpected times. It crept into the shadows and pounced on him when no one was around to help. Over the years, Bhima was used to the weight of expectations, of giving, forgiving, and getting things done. Never did he mind it. After all, if not him, then who?

Looking around, Bhima saw his brother occupied with various tasks. Yudhistira was making notes. Arjuna was in the forest hunting for food. The twins bundled dried grass to stack it as a roof. There she was, Draupadi, sitting with her feet in the river to ease the pain caused by walking all day. She turned her side, sensing his eyes on her, and smiled.

Bhima acknowledged her gesture and went to sit by her, letting out a soft sigh as the cool river water tickled his toes.

“You are allowed to be tried, you know.” She said, resting her head on his shoulder. “This is our chance to make peace with everything and be ourselves.”

Bhima couldn’t stop his lips from curving into a smile. He held her right hand in his left and let himself feel the weariness of the past instead of ignoring it as he always did.

“I miss them.” He said.

“I know. I miss them too, though I met only Ghatotkacha. Sister Hidimba had been so brave! Wasn’t she a formidable ruler of the rakshasa kingdom? The thought of her, living alone with a son and responsible for so many others, gave me the confidence to face the exile and what came after.”

Bhima didn’t know what to say. This admission from Draupadi, the empress of Bharatavarsha, was something he hadn’t ever expected. She had a fierce, inherent fire that kept them burning for as long as necessary.

“Everyone needs something to keep going.” She replied as if guessing his thoughts.

Bhima chuckled. “How do you read my mind, Maharani?”

“I can see them in your eyes. You don’t hide your feelings, Bhima. What we see is what we get.” Draupadi replied. She turned to hold his face in her hands. “I never have to guess what you think. That makes me love you even more.”

“Maharani…” Bhima was never one for words, so he crushed her to his chest, wrapping his arms around her.

Draupadi had declared they would stop with the yearly rotation now. She felt they were old enough to be amicable with each other without proper agreements. After all, wasn’t Mahaprasthana also about letting go of their burdens and negative emotions?

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The stars twinkled above in the night sky as Bhima eased onto his back with arms under his head. The brothers slept outside the hut with Draupadi inside. Even the dog stayed outside, though Draupadi said she wanted it inside the hut, away from wild animals, if any attacked at night. Yudhistira assured her all of them would be safe. However, Bhima knew it didn’t hurt to stay alert. They spread themselves around the hut, forming a loose circle. Bhima was a few feet away from the front door, a bunch of branches nailed together into a board.

Arjuna caught a couple of rabbits and pulled out a few edible roots. Nakula cleaned the animals while Sahadeva washed the roots and roasted them in the fire. Bhima said he would cook, but Draupadi took over, asking him to help Yudhistira go through their route plan.

Bhima decided to start eating less, though he still consumed most of the food, much to his brothers and Draupadi’s delight. They loved watching him enjoying his meal, or so Draupadi and Arjuna said. He had no reason not to trust their words. His memories took him to his childhood, the time when Duryodhana, his cousin, mixed poison into his food. If not for his Naga relatives, Bhima wasn’t sure he wouldn’t have come out unscathed. Years later, Bhima killed Baka, an asura terrorizing the villagers of Ekachakra, and got to enjoy a hearty meal after living on the bare minimum for months. How much he missed Hidimbi back then!

“I’m sorry for leaving you, my rakshasi,” Bhima murmured, staring at the stars. He hadn’t loved her at first. He wasn’t in the mood for it when danger hung a sword over their heads. Thanks to Uncle Vidura, they could escape from yet another attempt on their lives. The house in Varnavata was made of hemp, wax, and flammable items. If not for the tip, they would have been charred to death, exactly what Duryodhana wanted.

After a harrowing escape through the underground tunnel and a boat ride across the River Ganga, Bhima wasn’t thinking about love or romance. However, Hidimbi wanted him and confessed as much. Killing her brother only made her love him more!

“You shouldn’t say no to her, Bhima.” Kunti, his mother, insisted. That didn’t stop her from setting ground rules, which he was too eager to reinforce. It wasn’t until later that he realized his mother’s plan. His son, Ghatotkacha, would have the responsibilities of a firstborn without getting the rights.

“O, Hidimbi! O Ghatotkacha, my son!” Bhima couldn’t stop thinking about them. Was it because of what Draupadi said to him earlier? It didn’t matter.

Those few months with Hidimbi were his happiest days, despite the sleepless nights he spent guarding his family in the forest. When Bhima saw Ghatotkacha for the first time, he couldn’t blink. His newborn looked like a toddler, with a toothless grin and a bald head.

He let out a soft chuckle, thinking of the precious few days he played with his offspring. They had to leave, his mother announced. None of them objected. He left his wife and son with a goodbye.

“At least we can spend some time with Ghatotkacha if he helps us climb the mountains,” Yudhistira said during exile.

They did, of course. Ghatotkacha, for all his ferocity, was a gentle kitten with them. How he carried Draupadi over Mount Gandhamadana! She too embraced the rakshasa like her son, never mind that he was twice her height and thrice her width.

Bhima remembered how he had felt then. The discomfort of taking from his son without giving much in return. Ghatotkacha hadn’t minded. His son was just like him—they preferred to give than take. And when Karna killed him in the war, Bhima’s heart stopped for a few seconds. Yet, he steeled it and went on fighting. His brothers depended on him to win. His vow to avenge Draupadi’s insult in the Kuru sabha was yet to be complete. So, he mourned his son inside and channeled his anger and grief at his opponents. He crushed them all with his bare hands.

Yet, nothing brought the dead back. Bhima had to tell Hidimbi that her son wouldn’t return to her. She had known, though.

“I don’t blame you, Arya. War takes people away.” She said with a solemn expression.

However, a part of Bhima blamed himself. It was a burden he wanted to carry even after he heard of Hidimbi’s death a few years ago. He attended the last rites and gifted his mace to his rakshasa grandchildren, the only thing they accepted, that too as a piece of honor from him. They placed it in their rock-cut temple at the feet of the goddess’s murti.

Bhima decided he, too, would place his burdens at her feet. He had a lot more to release, but not yet. They had just started their last journey. The time would come to let go of everything, and he would.

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