A woman
on the battlefield was unheard of. However, he did not care. He was about to fulfill
one of his vows today. It had been a long wait.
He
slowly took her arm and led her onto the battleground. Reverentially, he seated
her on a broken chariot, pointed at the almost dead inert body lying close to
it.
She
looked at the broken man lying drenched in blood, the man who had tried to
disrobe her that shameful day. She averted her gaze for fear that her wrath
would burn him to ashes and looked up at the one who had brought her onto the
battlefield. He folded his hands deferentially towards her, and looked back at
the man who was aware of the fate that awaited him.
With
a huge savage cry, he rushed towards him, and tore out his entrails in a
beastly manner and proceeded to wash her hair with the blood on his hands. He did
it with a veneration bordering on worship, almost trance-like, a devotee appeasing
his Goddess.
She sat
there, rigid as an idol, basking in the adulation showered upon her. Heaving a sigh
of contentment, she looked at him, cupped his face in her hands and gazed at
him.
He had
never failed her. She reveled with pride
in the fact that he never would.
-----
X -----
Krishna
observed the sight unfolding in front of his eyes. Everyone around were but, mute
spectators to whatever was happening. He watched silently, as the embodiment of
the Wind-God, knelt before the personification of the Goddess. He watched the
devotion, the child-like adoration on Vrikodara’s face when he was propitiating
Krishnaa.
Vrikodara.
The one with a wolf’s belly. The strongest of all
Pandavas. The gentle giant.
[Pic Couresty: http://molee.deviantart.com/
He had neither Yudhisthira’s steady demeanor
nor Arjuna’s single-mindedness. He was someone who swung between extremes,
someone who was prone to wild flashes of mood swings, gusts of emotions. He had
his own concepts of Dharma and Karma and usually insisted on immediate payback,
unlike the other brothers who would wait for the most opportune moment to
strike back or retaliate. He was someone who could not stand the very sight of
injustice irrespective of whomsoever it was meted out to. In spite of all this,
he was most often the gentlest of all. The epitome of humility. Narayana’s
staunchest devotee. And the most fun to be with because of his unpredictable
nature.
There was however, one thing that was predictable
about him.
Draupadi.
Like everyone else before him, and as everyone
else after him, he had succumbed to her charms as well. Everybody knew that
Bheema was silly putty in Draupadi’s hands. All she had to do was ask him something,
and he would do it no questions asked. Whether it was the quest for the Saugandhika
flowers or Keechaka’s death, it was Bheema Draupadi had turned to, for she knew
that, he would never fail her, even while the others did; citing reasons that bordered
on excuses. He was the only one to raise his voice against the happenings on
that dreadful day in the court sabha; he was the one who had sworn that the
death of all of Kali’s followers would be at his hands. And slowly yet steadily,
he was getting there.
----- X -----
Bheema looked around. His shoulders sagged
with the sights in front of him. The blood, the carnage, the destruction, the
devastation and the deaths. He was single-handedly responsible for half of the destruction
that lay before their eyes. The war had taken a great deal out of him. He had
lost a lot to it as well. The deaths of his son and nephew weighed upon his
being. The fratricide he had committed had taken its toll on him.
He looked
up at Krishna.
He
saw Krishna gazing back at him, a world of understanding in his benevolent
gaze.
-----
X -----
Krishna knew.
Out of all the Pandava brothers, Bheema was
the only one who understood the true need for the war. He was the only one who had
never questioned on why this war should happen. He was the one who looked
beyond the materialistic gains that this war would bring forth and recognized
the bigger picture and the ramifications of this battle. With unwavering faith
and belief on Krishna, Bheema had stood steadfast in his opinion that the war
should ensue.
To the rest of the world, Bheema was
fulfilling his vows, his pledges to Draupadi. Presumably as an act of true
love. However, Krishna knew that Bheema had long before moved beyond his
assertions of love for Draupadi. Bheema had come to the realization that in
Draupadi’s eyes; he would always be second best, maybe even third best. He had become
aware that for her, he was only a means; that the temptation of her love was
only a lure, a means to a greater end. He had also accepted this fact in all humility,
as he understood the reasoning behind it. Enlightened that Draupadi was Goddess
incarnate and his way forward was to serve her and help in the cleansing of
evil from the world, he had taken it upon himself to ensure that he was pivotal
in the destruction of all of evil’s personifications. In that sense alone, he
was the true hero of the Mahabharata war.
----- X -----
Vrikodara
knew that his job was far from done. There was a lot more to come. He was however a
step closer to that final rung.
He looked
up at Duryodhana standing afar, shock in his eyes at his beloved brother’s
gruesome death at the hands of his worst enemy. One by one, he had picked off
and killed all the Kaurava brethren until only the eldest of them all was standing.
Signaling to the Duryodhana that he was next, he held up his conch, Paundra, and
blew into it deeply.
He had
made the first strike in this war.
The last
strike would be his as well.
-----
X -----
