Read Epic Retold: The Mahabharata in Tweets for Free Online

is not safe at night? What was I thinking, wandering so far, leaving the camp unprotected?
    I listen to Yudhistira’s tirade silently. I do not feel like telling him about the girl with the rough hands and copper skin.
    As days pass, we settle into our new lives. It is a return to the time before Father died, when we lived in the forest—before Hastinapur.
    Most mornings, I join Arjuna in archery. He has rigged up targets all around; he practises relentlessly.
    Later, once the camp chores are done, I roam the forest unencumbered—and always, the girl with the copper skin keeps me company.
    Except that day.
    Hidimbi does not appear even when the sun begins to fade. The forest is unusually quiet; something has upset the game.
    It is as I kneel down for a drink by a wayside pond that I hear the trample of feet. Someone—something—is approaching me at a dead run.
    The forester who emerges is taller than me. Thick muscles coil like ropes down his arms, which hang loose almost to his knees.
    Grunting like a wild boar, he rushes forward. His kick could fell a small tree. Rolling under its impact, I scramble to my feet.
    The forester is fast. Before I can crouch into a fighting stance, he has swung around. It is with difficulty I avoid his long arms.
    I hit out at his exposed neck. Before he recovers, I jump on his back, wrapping my right arm around his throat.
    We fall heavily. Ignoring the hands that struggle to tear my arm away, I pin him down with my knees and torso. I yank his head back.
    The choking noises he makes are music to my ears. I tighten my grip and tug with all my strength, twisting his face towards me.
    The crack of the neck is distinct. Bhimasena has killed again.
    As I rise, breathing heavily, Arjuna rushes to me. I had not seen him arrive.
    ‘I could have finished him with an arrow,’ he says, smiling. ‘But I did not think Bhimasena needed help.’
    It feels good to see the pride in Arjuna’s eyes. I am strong, invincible—like my father, the all-powerful God of Wind.
    But that feeling does not last. Hearing a sound, I turn around. Hidimbi is kneeling by the forester’s twisted body.
    The eyes that meet mine are moist. I know the truth before she voices it.
    ‘You killed my brother.’
    Wordless, I walk away. The mighty Bhimasena has not won after all.
    She comes to me later, after the sun is long gone. Rough fingers touch my cheek gently, turning my face to hers.
    ‘I am glad you are alive,’ she says.
    In the morning, I walk with her to the camp, leading her by the hand to where Mother sits. As Hidimbi prostrates, I say:
    ‘From today she will be your daughter, my bride.’
    Mother’s face shows no surprise. Nor pleasure. She raises her hand in blessing, touching Hidimbi’s forehead, and murmurs words of welcome.
    Yudhistira looks flustered when Hidimbi kneels before him. But quickly gathering himself, he greets her, offering us his blessings.
    As Arjuna, Nakula and Sahadeva gather around, I see Hidimbi watching me. Her eyes are moist again.
    The days that follow are blissful. I have never felt so happy, so peaceful—not since I walked into the palace of Hastinapur as a child.
    I forget Duryodhana, I forget Karna, I forget the treachery in the eyes of the blind king: it is a different fire that is burning in me now.
    Weeks fly by. Then one day, when we return from the forest, I find the twins breaking camp. Mother says, ‘It is time for us to go.’
    A sage had come by with a message from Uncle Vidura that morning. We were to move immediately to Ekachakra, a village of brahmins.
    As Hidimbi begins to ready food for the journey, Mother says to me quietly: ‘We cannot take her with us.’
    Seeing the disbelief on my face, Yudhistira says, ‘We will be living in disguise, as brahmins. Hidimbi will not fit in.’
    ‘She is bearing my child,’ I say.
    Yudhistira turns away.
    Speechless, I look towards Hidimbi. She is staring at me.
    The touch on my shoulder is light. As I face her, I battle