Epic Retold: The Mahabharata in Tweets by Chindu Sreedharan Page A
Authors: Chindu Sreedharan
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guards: the king regularly buys ivory and forest produce from them.
‘No one is allowed into the lake,’ Ghatotkacha says. ‘The guards are always around.’
‘How many?’ I ask.
‘Too many,’ Ghatotkacha says. ‘But if it is only the flowers you want, there is an easier way.’
Seeing my questioning look, Ghatotkacha tells me of another place. A small pond downhill from the lake, fed by the same water source.
‘Plenty of flowers there,’ he says. ‘No guards.’ I shrug. That seems wiser than seeking out a confrontation with my son’s consociates.
Ghatotkacha leaves the trail, heading into the trees. Though there is little light filtering through, he leads the way confidently.
Soon, the trees begin to thin. The scent of Saugandhika, which had begun to fade when we left the trail, is once again powerful.
We emerge into a clearing. Laid out before me is an oval pond of breathtaking beauty, its surface a carpet of blue lotuses.
As we approach the water, I cannot but help think of another time, another forest.
Everything of this place reminds me of where I first met Hidimbi. Except for the Saughandhika, everything is the same.
Stripping, I dive into the cold, revelling in the numbing agony that swallows me whole. I swim among the blue lotuses for a long time.
By the time I climb out, Ghatotkacha has conjured up a meal. Wild figs, berries the size of a man’s fist, a bamboo shoot full of honey.
‘I must go now,’ Ghatotkacha says as I wash down the meal. ‘My people are waiting.’
Instructing me on how to get back to the trail, he kneels to seek my blessing. I raise him by the shoulders and embrace him.
He says, ‘Send word when you need me, Father.’
‘Wait.’ Walking over to the edge of the pond, I pluck a blue lotus. ‘Tell Hidimbi I asked about her,’ I say, offering it to my son.
Ghatotkacha smiles. Without a word, he vanishes into the trees, leaving me clutching an empty gesture.
JATA
EPISODE
20
TWEETS
47
I hear the shouts and screams as I return from a hunt. Throwing down the carcass of the deer I had tracked for days, I run to the camp.
By our huts, I see my brothers fighting a forester. He has Draupadi slung over one shoulder and is attempting to make away with her.
Both Nakula and Sahadeva have been flung aside. As I watch, Yudhistira makes a run for him and is sent staggering back with a kick.
‘Give me a weapon, you coward!’ Yudhistira shouts from where he fell. ‘Fight me like a man for this woman. Where is your honour?’
Yudhistira! But for the occasion, I would have laughed out loud.
When I burst through the group of watching pilgrims, all screaming but offering no other help, the forester realizes his match has come.
He puts Draupadi down. With a cry of relief, she runs back to the edge, to the shelter of the clustered onlookers.
Licking his thick lips and grunting, the forester advances fearlessly. He is my match in height and build. A worthy opponent, at last!
I throw down my spear. This has to be done by hand.
Spreading his long arms, the forester rushes me. I sidestep. From his wild attack, I can see he is untrained in personal combat.
But he catches himself fast. This is no Jarasandha slowed by age, no Baka aged by gluttony.
I endure a blow to test his strength. He swings again. When it lands high on my ribs with a resounding thud, I hear Draupadi gasp.
Seeing me stagger, the forester snarls. Hands clubbed together, he swings for a third time, like a woodsman with axe.
I twist out of his way. Then, I begin my counterattack.
I go for his neck and chest. I rain blows on his vital regions. When he retreats on unsteady feet, I follow, systematically hammering him.
The pilgrims, who had fallen silent when they thought the forester had the upper hand, are now yelling encouragements at me.
Ducking under an uncertain blow from my adversary, I crash my forearm into his side. As he stumbles, I grab him in a tight headlock.
Choking, the forester fights to
‘No one is allowed into the lake,’ Ghatotkacha says. ‘The guards are always around.’
‘How many?’ I ask.
‘Too many,’ Ghatotkacha says. ‘But if it is only the flowers you want, there is an easier way.’
Seeing my questioning look, Ghatotkacha tells me of another place. A small pond downhill from the lake, fed by the same water source.
‘Plenty of flowers there,’ he says. ‘No guards.’ I shrug. That seems wiser than seeking out a confrontation with my son’s consociates.
Ghatotkacha leaves the trail, heading into the trees. Though there is little light filtering through, he leads the way confidently.
Soon, the trees begin to thin. The scent of Saugandhika, which had begun to fade when we left the trail, is once again powerful.
We emerge into a clearing. Laid out before me is an oval pond of breathtaking beauty, its surface a carpet of blue lotuses.
As we approach the water, I cannot but help think of another time, another forest.
Everything of this place reminds me of where I first met Hidimbi. Except for the Saughandhika, everything is the same.
Stripping, I dive into the cold, revelling in the numbing agony that swallows me whole. I swim among the blue lotuses for a long time.
By the time I climb out, Ghatotkacha has conjured up a meal. Wild figs, berries the size of a man’s fist, a bamboo shoot full of honey.
‘I must go now,’ Ghatotkacha says as I wash down the meal. ‘My people are waiting.’
Instructing me on how to get back to the trail, he kneels to seek my blessing. I raise him by the shoulders and embrace him.
He says, ‘Send word when you need me, Father.’
‘Wait.’ Walking over to the edge of the pond, I pluck a blue lotus. ‘Tell Hidimbi I asked about her,’ I say, offering it to my son.
Ghatotkacha smiles. Without a word, he vanishes into the trees, leaving me clutching an empty gesture.
JATA
EPISODE
20
TWEETS
47
I hear the shouts and screams as I return from a hunt. Throwing down the carcass of the deer I had tracked for days, I run to the camp.
By our huts, I see my brothers fighting a forester. He has Draupadi slung over one shoulder and is attempting to make away with her.
Both Nakula and Sahadeva have been flung aside. As I watch, Yudhistira makes a run for him and is sent staggering back with a kick.
‘Give me a weapon, you coward!’ Yudhistira shouts from where he fell. ‘Fight me like a man for this woman. Where is your honour?’
Yudhistira! But for the occasion, I would have laughed out loud.
When I burst through the group of watching pilgrims, all screaming but offering no other help, the forester realizes his match has come.
He puts Draupadi down. With a cry of relief, she runs back to the edge, to the shelter of the clustered onlookers.
Licking his thick lips and grunting, the forester advances fearlessly. He is my match in height and build. A worthy opponent, at last!
I throw down my spear. This has to be done by hand.
Spreading his long arms, the forester rushes me. I sidestep. From his wild attack, I can see he is untrained in personal combat.
But he catches himself fast. This is no Jarasandha slowed by age, no Baka aged by gluttony.
I endure a blow to test his strength. He swings again. When it lands high on my ribs with a resounding thud, I hear Draupadi gasp.
Seeing me stagger, the forester snarls. Hands clubbed together, he swings for a third time, like a woodsman with axe.
I twist out of his way. Then, I begin my counterattack.
I go for his neck and chest. I rain blows on his vital regions. When he retreats on unsteady feet, I follow, systematically hammering him.
The pilgrims, who had fallen silent when they thought the forester had the upper hand, are now yelling encouragements at me.
Ducking under an uncertain blow from my adversary, I crash my forearm into his side. As he stumbles, I grab him in a tight headlock.
Choking, the forester fights to
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