TALE BEHIND THE TALE

Bheema — A short story from Mahabharata

My hands mechanically washed the blood off my mace. Red. Everywhere I turned, I saw red. The soil. The water. I shook my head and focused on the task at hand. The blood from the mace ran down my hand. Ugh. More blood. I shut my eyes in an attempt to drown out the gruesome image. Images far more gruesome sprang up.

“Please brother, forgive me!!”

“Don’t kill me, I beg you!!”

“It hurts, please stop!”

“Noooooooo!!”

“Aaaaahhhhhhh!!!”

“Bheema….”

My eyes flew open. Tears prickled my eyes but I blinked them back. I’m supposed to be the strongest one here. I have to hold it together. I looked up to find my brothers’ eyes trained on me sadly. You are not fooling anyone here. “I… I…..”

My eldest brother Yudhishtra crouched beside me. “Shhhh….I know how you feel Bheema. We all feel the same. But know that you did what you had to. It was the right thing to do.” I merely nodded, unable to get anything past the lump in my throat. Understanding that I needed a moment alone, he patted my back and motioned for the others to leave.

“It was the right thing to do.”

I sighed. What I would give for a moment of peace! One single moment of bliss where I would not hear Duchadhana or any of my other 99 brothers screaming in pain every single time I shut my eyes.

Time heals. What an unbidden thought. Would time really heal all this pain? Would time make me forget the image of all these bloodied dead bodies strewn haphazardly across the battlefield? I snorted. Since when does time heal anything? It didn’t for sure end the enmity that the Kauravas harbored towards the Pandavas.

I sighed yet again. Perhaps staying alive was my punishment. I let my gaze travel to where our tents were. The celebration feast was to be held. I doubted anyone would celebrate anything but it was customary. I looked down at my hands. Hands that scooped up blood and drunk it like it was water. What have I done? I retched violently. The tears that I had held back for so long came flowing.

“It was the right thing to do.”

Was it?

Right, wrong. Right, wrong.

I heard a noise. I saw Draupadi coming out of the tent, no doubt in search of me. Draupadi……. A different vision ran through my head. A helpless Draupadi disrobed by Duchadhana in the throne room. The Kauravas laughing. Duryodhana asking her to sit on his lap. Her vow to not tie up her hair till they were dead. I wiped my eyes. No man shaming a woman deserves to live. He should, in fact, die in the most painful way possible. So should those who watch on silently.

I looked at Draupadi again, standing there, waiting for me to come. Her hair braided.

“It was the right thing to do.”

Yes, it was.