This is part of my ongoing series on the Mahabharat, an epic poem of ancient India. For links to all previous Mahabharat posts go here. Or you can simply click on the Mahabharat page link above.
This is the third part of Gatotkacha - Demon Son. Click to read the first and second part. Last week we saw that Bhima had to leave his young son and wife, to fulfill his duties to his people. This is what happened next:
Hidimba was kept very busy by her son Gatotkacha. He was always making mischief without ever meaning too and she was forever running after him, afraid he would hurt himself or others. All his babbling took form in words and within a few months, he was speaking like a toddler, even though he was only a few months old. He still looked like a five-year-old, though, which was a relief to her. His rapid growth looked like it had slowed down, somewhat. And through all this his head was still as smooth as the curve of a cooking pot.
It was when he was sleeping his baby's sleep that Hidimba allowed herself to think of Bhima, to miss his presence and his scent, and his strong arms holding her at night.
Gatotkacha climbed the trees outside their cave and became friends with the monkeys who lived there. Hidimba was glad because the monkeys were strong and fast and could keep Gatotkach occupied while she was doing her housework.
Unfortunately, her son and the monkeys formed a gang and terrorized the local parrot population. Gatotkacha didn't like how the parrots repeated his words back at him. He and the monkeys leaped all over the trees, disturbing the parrots from their perches and creating a general ruckus.
In the midst of cooking lunch, Hidimba realised what he was doing and rushed out of the cave to stop him. She sternly called him down from the trees and explained to him it wasn't fair to hurt those who were weaker. When he protested she told him that parrots couldn't help repeating his words, they were learning just like he was. She encouraged him to speak good words, so the parrots could learn good words too, and told him to make friends with them that way.
Her son listened to her. He became so gentle with the parrots that they let him sit next to them on the tree branches and repeat every noise they made. He realised that their noises to each other were words too, a language, and he started to understand what they were saying. Gatotkacha made the monkeys share their mangoes with the parrots, which caused a lot of grumbling and screeching from the monkeys but he made it happen, remembering that his mother had said everyone needed food.
Despite his sweet nature, Gatotkacha was still a handful for Hidimba and she was continually exhausted. He was still breastfeeding, but the additional food he required for his rapid growth and the antics he got into took its toll on her. She longed for Bhima's help.
Then something strange happened. Other demons began to come to her cave. They'd avoided her while Bhima was there, not knowing how to deal with that terrifyingly strong human in their midst. Hidimba had expected them to either ignore or ostracize now that she was alone. But the Rakshas of her forest began to leave gifts outside her cave - a pile of watermelons, a branch of bananas, baskets of berries and nuts and leaves. New grass garments and bead jewellery too. Fresh water was left outside her cave every morning so she didn't have to go to the river for it.
And they would show up with Gatotkacha during the day, having saved him from some random escapade. They were gentle with him, never rough, just keeping him safe from harm.
Hidimba didn't know how to explain it. It wasn't normal for Rakshas to help each other this way. Rakshas respected strength, they didn't show gentleness. Rakshas demanded food and gifts from others, they didn't give things away. And they never shared.
One day Hidimba realised that Gatotkacha wasn't playing in the trees outside and became worried. She came out of the cave to search for him. That was when one of the Rakshas men came into the clearing, his hand firmly around Gatotkacha's arm. He handed the boy over to her.
Before she could say a word he spoke, his voice gruff: "He was about to jump into the river. I didn't think you'd taught him to swim yet so I caught him and brought him home."
Hidimba's heart leapt at the thought of her son drowning. She couldn't speak and just looked at the Rakshas with his wild grey dreadlocks obscuring his eyes and dirty animal skins covering his body.
"I can teach him, if you're too busy," the Rakshas said.
She was stunned. A Rakshas teach another Rakshas' child? Hidimba held Gatotkacha's arm and didn't know what to say. But the help would be so wonderful! she thought.
"I can teach him," the Rakshas said again. "He'll be safe with me."
She searched his rough face for some reason. Why?
The Rakshas saw the question in her eyes. He gestured to Gatotkacha, who was chewing on some leaf he'd picked up. "Your son is our Prince."
Hidimba gaped at that. Rakshas never cared for worldly titles and position. They took what they wanted.
"Gatotkacha's father is the mighty Kuru Bhima. He is strong like the Kurus. And like you. And like his uncle Hidimb." The Rakshas gestured to the boy. "He will make us proud one day. Gatotkacha will make all Rakshas proud before not just Rakshas, but the whole world."
Hidimba's eyes filled with tears. She'd never imagined that her people would see her son that way. That they would see him as a bridge to the world.
Gatotkacha got tired of chewing on the leaf and spit it out. He rooted around his mother's chest for milk. "Hungry, Mama," he said in his adorable baby voice.
She picked him up. "In a minute, my darling." She turned to the Rakshas. "Brother, I would like for you to teach him to swim."
He nodded. "I'll come tomorrow morning."
"What do we say, Gatotkacha?" Hidimba nudged her son.
The boy looked up at the Rakshas. "Thank yew!"
"Thank you, Uncle," she said.
"Thank yew, Uncle," Gatotkacha repeated, like a parrot.
Hidimba nodded at the man, who turned and left the clearing in silence. Hidimbe hugged her baby, and took him inside to breastfeed. "Little Prince," she whispered, gazing down at him with love as he fed.
To be continued...
Friday, May 17, 2013
Friday, May 10, 2013
Gatotkacha - Demon Son Part II
This is part of my ongoing series on the Mahabharat, an epic poem of ancient India. For links to all previous Mahabharat posts go here. Or you can simply click on the Mahabharat page link above.
This is the second part of Gatotkacha - Demon Son. Click to read the first part. Last week we saw that Gatotkach was special, and showed his specialness only moments after his birth. This is what happened next:
Gatotkacha was a month old but the size of a five-year-old. He was sturdy on his feet, his hands grabbing at all things in curiosity. And his strength was phenomenal, like his father's. He liked to pick up pebbles and crush them so the dust flew everywhere. He threw a stick once into the air and it hit a bird high up in the sky who fell down, dead.
Bhima carved him animal toys out of wood and Hidimba knotted him human toys out of dried grass and they both told him it was fun to play with his toys, instead of crushing them or throwing them.
Bhima devised games and stories for his son, climbing trees together and building forts from sticks. He carved a ball from wood that Gatotkacha could roll around the floor and chase, showing him a different way to employ his strength.
Hidimba cooked food that the boy ate almost constantly, although he still liked her milk. It was becoming difficult to breastfeed him since he was growing his teeth but she tried to keep her son as happy as possible since the ground shook whenever he wailed from hunger.
Gatotkacha didn't speak yet but he understood everything they told him. He slept ten hours a day, which gave his exhausted parents time to rest and garner their strength for his next antics.
One day, Bhima and Hidimba sat together watching him play all around the cave with his toys.
"I love him. But why did he have to come so soon?" Hidimba whispered.
"I know," Bhima said. "And why did he have to grow so fast? I thought it would take longer, that we would have time..."
They'd received word that Bhima's family were in the city of Ekchakra, living in disguise. Kunti and the Pandavas had heard of Hidimba's son and sent congratulations and blessings.
They both fell into silence, not wanting to face it.
Finally, Bhima sighed. "I have to go to them."
Hidimba closed her eyes.
"It's my duty. My duty," he said, as if repeating a mantra. "Elder Brother is the Crown Prince, he is the heir to Hastinapur. It's my job to protect him for the people."
Hidimba opened her eyes. Gatotkacha was babbling as he played, knocking his toys together and rolling them around the floor. He wasn't speaking yet, just blurting adorable sounds at his parents when something pleased him.
"I just wish Gatotkacha hadn't grown so fast," Bhima whispered. "I wanted to be here. I wanted to teach him."
"We knew this day would come," Hidimba said. "Do not worry, my lord. I will teach him."
The next day Hidimba packed food into a bundle for her husband, rice and bread and vegetables.
Bhima cut off the dreadlocks he'd sported for the past year, gazing regretfully at them as they lay in a heap on the floor. He then changed into his one pair of cotton garments, abandoning the grass clothes and beads that he'd worn for Hidimba.
She waited at the door of their cave, holding Gatotkacha sleeping on her shoulder. As Bhima came to her, she looked up at him with a calm face. "We will be here," she told him. "Whenever you want to see us, we will be here." She handed him the bundle of food.
Bhima embraced them both, and they stood there for a long time, not wanting to let go.
Finally, she pushed him away. "You can't forget your dharma, my lord. Neither of us can forget that."
Their son woke up and was instantly hungry, rooting around his mother's chest. Bhima kissed Gatotkacha's chubby cheek and the boy reached out eagerly, looking to pull his father's dreadlocks. He blinked in confusion when he couldn't find them.
"Goodbye, my son," Bhima whispered.
A little frown puckered the boy's brow as he looked up at his father. He held out his arms, expecting Bhima to take him.
"No," Hidimba said. "Stay with me, Gatotkacha."
The little boy struggled but Hidimba controlled him and Bhima stepped back to calm his son down. "It's alright, son," Bhima said. "It's going to be alright. I'll see you soon."
With one last look at Hidimba, Bhima stepped out of the cave and walked away.
Hidimba waited until Bhima's back was turned to let her tears fall.
Gatotkacha looked his mother's weeping face, then at his father's turned back.
"Papa," he said. His first word.
To be continued...
Click here for the next part.
This is the second part of Gatotkacha - Demon Son. Click to read the first part. Last week we saw that Gatotkach was special, and showed his specialness only moments after his birth. This is what happened next:
Gatotkacha was a month old but the size of a five-year-old. He was sturdy on his feet, his hands grabbing at all things in curiosity. And his strength was phenomenal, like his father's. He liked to pick up pebbles and crush them so the dust flew everywhere. He threw a stick once into the air and it hit a bird high up in the sky who fell down, dead.
Bhima carved him animal toys out of wood and Hidimba knotted him human toys out of dried grass and they both told him it was fun to play with his toys, instead of crushing them or throwing them.
Bhima devised games and stories for his son, climbing trees together and building forts from sticks. He carved a ball from wood that Gatotkacha could roll around the floor and chase, showing him a different way to employ his strength.
Hidimba cooked food that the boy ate almost constantly, although he still liked her milk. It was becoming difficult to breastfeed him since he was growing his teeth but she tried to keep her son as happy as possible since the ground shook whenever he wailed from hunger.
Gatotkacha didn't speak yet but he understood everything they told him. He slept ten hours a day, which gave his exhausted parents time to rest and garner their strength for his next antics.
One day, Bhima and Hidimba sat together watching him play all around the cave with his toys.
"I love him. But why did he have to come so soon?" Hidimba whispered.
"I know," Bhima said. "And why did he have to grow so fast? I thought it would take longer, that we would have time..."
They'd received word that Bhima's family were in the city of Ekchakra, living in disguise. Kunti and the Pandavas had heard of Hidimba's son and sent congratulations and blessings.
They both fell into silence, not wanting to face it.
Finally, Bhima sighed. "I have to go to them."
Hidimba closed her eyes.
"It's my duty. My duty," he said, as if repeating a mantra. "Elder Brother is the Crown Prince, he is the heir to Hastinapur. It's my job to protect him for the people."
Hidimba opened her eyes. Gatotkacha was babbling as he played, knocking his toys together and rolling them around the floor. He wasn't speaking yet, just blurting adorable sounds at his parents when something pleased him.
"I just wish Gatotkacha hadn't grown so fast," Bhima whispered. "I wanted to be here. I wanted to teach him."
"We knew this day would come," Hidimba said. "Do not worry, my lord. I will teach him."
The next day Hidimba packed food into a bundle for her husband, rice and bread and vegetables.
Bhima cut off the dreadlocks he'd sported for the past year, gazing regretfully at them as they lay in a heap on the floor. He then changed into his one pair of cotton garments, abandoning the grass clothes and beads that he'd worn for Hidimba.
She waited at the door of their cave, holding Gatotkacha sleeping on her shoulder. As Bhima came to her, she looked up at him with a calm face. "We will be here," she told him. "Whenever you want to see us, we will be here." She handed him the bundle of food.
Bhima embraced them both, and they stood there for a long time, not wanting to let go.
Finally, she pushed him away. "You can't forget your dharma, my lord. Neither of us can forget that."
Their son woke up and was instantly hungry, rooting around his mother's chest. Bhima kissed Gatotkacha's chubby cheek and the boy reached out eagerly, looking to pull his father's dreadlocks. He blinked in confusion when he couldn't find them.
"Goodbye, my son," Bhima whispered.
A little frown puckered the boy's brow as he looked up at his father. He held out his arms, expecting Bhima to take him.
"No," Hidimba said. "Stay with me, Gatotkacha."
The little boy struggled but Hidimba controlled him and Bhima stepped back to calm his son down. "It's alright, son," Bhima said. "It's going to be alright. I'll see you soon."
With one last look at Hidimba, Bhima stepped out of the cave and walked away.
Hidimba waited until Bhima's back was turned to let her tears fall.
Gatotkacha looked his mother's weeping face, then at his father's turned back.
"Papa," he said. His first word.
To be continued...
Click here for the next part.
Friday, May 3, 2013
Gatotkacha - Demon Son
This is part of my ongoing series on the Mahabharat, an epic poem of ancient India. For links to all previous Mahabharat posts go here. Or you can simply click on the Mahabharat page link above.
In the last series, Hidimba - Demon Love, we saw that Bhima married a demoness. They were both teenagers when they wed and their time together was planned to be only brief. However, though it was brief, it bore a mighty fruit in the form of a son. This the story of that son, Gatotkacha.
Hidimba and Bhima were very happy together. The other Rakshas were at first outraged by her alliance to a human but when they saw what Bhima had done to Hidimb, they muted their objections. Rakshas' respected strength and Bhima was certainly not weak.
He and Hidimba lived together for one year in a cave home deep in the mountainside, surrounded by forest. At the end of that time Hidimba gave birth to a son. Bhima was with her, and cradled his tiny baby in his big hands as the midwife took care of her.
But Hidimba rose from her childbed, only moments after the afterbirth was taken away.
"What are you doing?" Bhima asked his wife as the Rakshas midwife cleaned up the rest of the room. "Get back into bed."
"I'm fine," Hidimba said. She held out her hands for the baby and, feeling stupid, Bhima gave him to her. "You don't understand, my lord, but that's alright. You'll see soon enough." She walked through their cave home, to where their altar to Mother Durga stood, Bhima trailing her in anxiety.
"You should be lying down," he told Hidimba, as if he knew anything about having babies.
"Shhhh," she told him, and lay their baby at Mother Durga's feet.
"Divine Mother," Hidimba said, folding her palms together, "I present to you your son. Bless him with strength and protect him with your love."
Even as Bhima watched, their son grew until he was the size of a large toddler. He rolled onto his stomach, then crawled on his knees, then stood up and waddled over to Hidimba. She laughed and picked him up, hugging him to her bosom.
Bhima gaped. "Does that work for all babies?"
She laughed again, "No, my lord. Only for Rakshas. It's Mother's blessing to us, though we are not worthy. We're never vulnerable for long."
All that growing must have built up an appetite because Bhima's son was rubbing his nose around Hidimba's chest, looking for food. Hidimba sat down, arranged him on her lap by moving her grass coverings aside, and began to breastfeed. The baby suckled eagerly, clasping her bead necklace as he ate.
Bhima watched, fascinated. Slowly, he knelt next to her, watching the two of them with wide eyes. He reached out and cupped the baby's head, being so careful not to hurt it. "He's still bald, even though he grew so much," he whispered.
She nodded, smiling down at their son.
"Is that normal, my lady?"
She shook her head, then smiled wryly at him. "None of this is normal, my lord. It's different for each Rakshas. We all have our own gifts."
Bhima stroked the baby's tender soft head, smooth of any hair or even any down. It was so round also, he'd never seen such a round head. "Gatotkacha," he said softly, thinking of the smooth underside of a cooking pot.
"You're always thinking of food," Hidimba told him.
"No. Gatotkacha," he said. "That's what we'll name him."
She looked at him, then back at their baby. "Yes, Gatotkacha."
They watched the baby feed, suckling strongly, then more softly as it became sleepy. "Gatotkacha," Hidimba whispered to it. "You are Rakshas, but you are also Arya. You're a son of the Kuru clan."
Gatotkacha opened his sleepy eyes, dark and deep, and looked at his mother.
"You're a warrior, like your father," Hidimba told him, touching his tender fat cheek.
The baby just listened, looking quietly up at her.
"You must work hard to be worthy of that honour," she told him.
"We must all work hard to be worthy," Bhima said, his finger tracing the lines of Gatotkacha's baby ear. "For all our blessings, we must strive to be worthy."
Gatotkacha blinked up at his parents, then fell asleep.
To be continued...
Click here to read the next Mahabharat post.
Click here to read the previous Mahabharat post entitled Intense.
In the last series, Hidimba - Demon Love, we saw that Bhima married a demoness. They were both teenagers when they wed and their time together was planned to be only brief. However, though it was brief, it bore a mighty fruit in the form of a son. This the story of that son, Gatotkacha.
Hidimba and Bhima were very happy together. The other Rakshas were at first outraged by her alliance to a human but when they saw what Bhima had done to Hidimb, they muted their objections. Rakshas' respected strength and Bhima was certainly not weak.
He and Hidimba lived together for one year in a cave home deep in the mountainside, surrounded by forest. At the end of that time Hidimba gave birth to a son. Bhima was with her, and cradled his tiny baby in his big hands as the midwife took care of her.
But Hidimba rose from her childbed, only moments after the afterbirth was taken away.
"What are you doing?" Bhima asked his wife as the Rakshas midwife cleaned up the rest of the room. "Get back into bed."
"I'm fine," Hidimba said. She held out her hands for the baby and, feeling stupid, Bhima gave him to her. "You don't understand, my lord, but that's alright. You'll see soon enough." She walked through their cave home, to where their altar to Mother Durga stood, Bhima trailing her in anxiety.
"You should be lying down," he told Hidimba, as if he knew anything about having babies.
"Shhhh," she told him, and lay their baby at Mother Durga's feet.
"Divine Mother," Hidimba said, folding her palms together, "I present to you your son. Bless him with strength and protect him with your love."
Even as Bhima watched, their son grew until he was the size of a large toddler. He rolled onto his stomach, then crawled on his knees, then stood up and waddled over to Hidimba. She laughed and picked him up, hugging him to her bosom.
Bhima gaped. "Does that work for all babies?"
She laughed again, "No, my lord. Only for Rakshas. It's Mother's blessing to us, though we are not worthy. We're never vulnerable for long."
All that growing must have built up an appetite because Bhima's son was rubbing his nose around Hidimba's chest, looking for food. Hidimba sat down, arranged him on her lap by moving her grass coverings aside, and began to breastfeed. The baby suckled eagerly, clasping her bead necklace as he ate.
Bhima watched, fascinated. Slowly, he knelt next to her, watching the two of them with wide eyes. He reached out and cupped the baby's head, being so careful not to hurt it. "He's still bald, even though he grew so much," he whispered.
She nodded, smiling down at their son.
"Is that normal, my lady?"
She shook her head, then smiled wryly at him. "None of this is normal, my lord. It's different for each Rakshas. We all have our own gifts."
Bhima stroked the baby's tender soft head, smooth of any hair or even any down. It was so round also, he'd never seen such a round head. "Gatotkacha," he said softly, thinking of the smooth underside of a cooking pot.
"You're always thinking of food," Hidimba told him.
"No. Gatotkacha," he said. "That's what we'll name him."
She looked at him, then back at their baby. "Yes, Gatotkacha."
They watched the baby feed, suckling strongly, then more softly as it became sleepy. "Gatotkacha," Hidimba whispered to it. "You are Rakshas, but you are also Arya. You're a son of the Kuru clan."
Gatotkacha opened his sleepy eyes, dark and deep, and looked at his mother.
"You're a warrior, like your father," Hidimba told him, touching his tender fat cheek.
The baby just listened, looking quietly up at her.
"You must work hard to be worthy of that honour," she told him.
"We must all work hard to be worthy," Bhima said, his finger tracing the lines of Gatotkacha's baby ear. "For all our blessings, we must strive to be worthy."
Gatotkacha blinked up at his parents, then fell asleep.
To be continued...
Click here to read the next Mahabharat post.
Click here to read the previous Mahabharat post entitled Intense.
Friday, April 19, 2013
Intense
This is part of my ongoing series on the Mahabharat, an epic poem of ancient India. For links to all previous Mahabharat posts go here. Or you can simply click on the Mahabharat page link above.
It's Friday and things are hotting up where I live. Not weather-wise, (I'm sitting here in a blanket with the heating on) but in other ways.
I've been traveling a lot recently. I haven't shared any of those experiences with you and I know some of you may have wondered about that. It's just been so personal, so intense, that I didn't want to speak it out loud for fear that it would slip away.
You see, I think I've found my spiritual master. It's not definite - I don't know for sure. I certainly can't say for sure when I haven't been accepted, because that would be improper. Still, I believe in my heart that I have found the One. Like Arjuna found his Guru Drona. And Upmanyu found his Guru Ayuddhaumya.
Now I have to prove myself worthy of that master and that is a terrifying prospect. This isn't about proving myself in some silly material way. The Hindu scriptures explain that there are only two people we need to prove anything towards. Our Guru. And Our God. That's it. But I'm no Upmanyu and I'm certainly not Arjuna.
So what do I do? I pray and pray and pray. And I look to the Mahabharat, hoping for inspiration.
And the Mahabharat leads me to Gatotkacha, the son of Bhima and Hidimba. Half Arya, half Raksha, Gatodgatcha's character makes me shake inside at the truth of his story. The journey he led, the sacrifices he made, all so that one day he might be worthy...
I'll tell you his story. Meet me here next week, and I'll tell you all about it.
Click here to read last week's Mahabharat post, entitled Hidimba - Demon Love Part II.
It's Friday and things are hotting up where I live. Not weather-wise, (I'm sitting here in a blanket with the heating on) but in other ways.
I've been traveling a lot recently. I haven't shared any of those experiences with you and I know some of you may have wondered about that. It's just been so personal, so intense, that I didn't want to speak it out loud for fear that it would slip away.
You see, I think I've found my spiritual master. It's not definite - I don't know for sure. I certainly can't say for sure when I haven't been accepted, because that would be improper. Still, I believe in my heart that I have found the One. Like Arjuna found his Guru Drona. And Upmanyu found his Guru Ayuddhaumya.
Now I have to prove myself worthy of that master and that is a terrifying prospect. This isn't about proving myself in some silly material way. The Hindu scriptures explain that there are only two people we need to prove anything towards. Our Guru. And Our God. That's it. But I'm no Upmanyu and I'm certainly not Arjuna.
So what do I do? I pray and pray and pray. And I look to the Mahabharat, hoping for inspiration.
And the Mahabharat leads me to Gatotkacha, the son of Bhima and Hidimba. Half Arya, half Raksha, Gatodgatcha's character makes me shake inside at the truth of his story. The journey he led, the sacrifices he made, all so that one day he might be worthy...
I'll tell you his story. Meet me here next week, and I'll tell you all about it.
Click here to read last week's Mahabharat post, entitled Hidimba - Demon Love Part II.
Friday, April 12, 2013
Hidimba - Demon Love Part II
This is part of my ongoing series on the Mahabharat, an epic poem of ancient India. For links to all previous Mahabharat posts go here. Or you can simply click on the Mahabharat page link above.
This is the second part of my Hidimba - Demon Love series. To read the first part go here. I've made you wait a long time for the continuation of this story. I'm very sorry. It's just that life got rather interesting for a while and I wasn't able to write as normal. I'll tell you all about it another time but for now, here's your Friday sweet. I should warn you though, this installment is a little graphic. There's violence, and blood, and gore. Please use discretion around the kids.
Last time we saw that Hidimba, a demon girl, fell in love with Bhima, one of the Pandava brothers, and tried to protect him from her own brother, the demon Hidimb. This is what happened next:
This is the second part of my Hidimba - Demon Love series. To read the first part go here. I've made you wait a long time for the continuation of this story. I'm very sorry. It's just that life got rather interesting for a while and I wasn't able to write as normal. I'll tell you all about it another time but for now, here's your Friday sweet. I should warn you though, this installment is a little graphic. There's violence, and blood, and gore. Please use discretion around the kids.
Last time we saw that Hidimba, a demon girl, fell in love with Bhima, one of the Pandava brothers, and tried to protect him from her own brother, the demon Hidimb. This is what happened next:
Bhima crawled through the undergrowth, coming up and around
the path of the pretty girl. He’d sensed that someone had been watching his
family but he he'd not known it was a female until he’d turned and looked at her.
That was when he knew she wasn’t a threat. Not because she was female but
because she’d looked at him with gentle eyes.
Other than Arjuna, Bhima’s night vision was the best in his
family. And that was saying a lot since there were no better warriors in the
world than his brothers. So when he’d looked at the girl, he’d noted her tribal
clothing and demon marks. She wasn’t a threat, but he still wanted to know if
there were other demons close by. He’d move his family to safety if there were.
So here he was, following the female through the night,
wondering why she was taking such a meandering path. Perhaps she was hunting
but there was no co-ordination to her steps, no intent. Many times he had to
scramble away to avoid her accidentally bumping towards him.
He mentally calculated the path to where his family lay and
knew that they were within sound distance. The girl was heading
north now, of a fashion, and the brush was heavy but Arjuna’s hearing was like a
wolf. He’d know if there was trouble. Really, it was a wonder Arjuna wasn’t
awake already, Bhima mused. He must be really tired.
Bhima saw the girl move through a thick brush and slam into
something. Not something, someone. A huge demon! Bhima was a big man himself and had trained with some
massive warriors but he’d never seen anyone like this. The Rakshas was dark
skinned and muscular, with tattoos on his cheeks and shoulders. His hair was
black and red with dreadlocks and braids running through it. Bhima wondered
what he himself would look like with dreadlocks, he quite liked the look of
them. And so practical in the forest!
The two Rakshas were talking but their voices were low. It
seemed to Bhima that the female was trying to prevent the demon from heading in
the direction of his family. When the gigantic terror tried to brush past her, she
grabbed his arm.
Something inside Bhima shifted at the sight of it. Just a
few days ago Bhima’s own cousin had tried to burn his family to death in a
house fire, yet here was this demon girl who didn’t even know their names
trying to protect them. Normally, it was Bhima who protected his family - no
one had ever tried to protect him.
She suddenly dropped to her knees, cowering. She was
weeping. The demon was about to strike her!
“Halt!” Bhima leaped
from his hiding place. “How dare you raise your hand against a lady!”
The massive Rakshas looked towards Bhima, growling. He
shifted his stance, like a predator sighting his prey.
Bhima stared back, readying his own muscles for a fight but
not being so obvious about it. In his peripheral vision he could see the girl
getting to her feet, looking quickly between him and the demon.
She spoke: “It’s not-"
“Shut your traitor mouth!” the demon roared at her. “I’ll
kill this human and his family and then I’ll take care of you.”
“Why don’t you come over here and try that, Rakshas?” Bhima
said, moving back and to the left. “Are you a coward who doesn’t fight warriors
his own size? Do you only abuse females and children?” He continued moving.
“My size?” the Rakshas laughed. “My size?”
Even as Bhima watched, the demon grew in size, getting
taller and broader until the trees around them were bent backwards and broken. Bhima swallowed. Well, he'd asked, hadn't he? “Do you only fight tree branches?" He taunted. "Are you afraid of an actual
opponent?”
The Rakshas growled and took one step forward. He was now
right in front of Bhima, who kept moving backwards, skirting around trees and
brush in the dark as though he’d memorized the terrain - which he had. Warriors must always pay
attention to their surroundings, Guru Drona had said.
Back beneath the banyan tree, Arjuna awoke at a slight tremble in the earth. He saw that Bhima was missing and woke everyone else. They rushed north towards the growing sounds of commotion in the distance.
Back beneath the banyan tree, Arjuna awoke at a slight tremble in the earth. He saw that Bhima was missing and woke everyone else. They rushed north towards the growing sounds of commotion in the distance.
“What do you do when you want to sleep?” Bhima was asking the Rakshas, still moving
backwards, northwest, drawing him away from the girl and his own family.
“Do you uproot a mountain and use it as a blanket? And what about when you pass wind?
Do all the birds drop out of the sky, dead from the poisonous fumes?”
The Rakshas took another step but this one was meant to
squish Bhima where he stood. Bhima leaped out of the way and continued backing
up, even as the ground shook beneath him from the demon’s foot. “When you snore
do you cause earthquakes?” he asked. The Rakshas slashed at him with a gigantic
hand but Bhima rolled and came up on the other side. “When you were born did
your mother pray to the Gods to make you less ugly?”
This time, when the Rakshas slashed, Bhima was ready to grab
it and twist. But then the strangest thing happened. Even though he’d braced
his feet in the dirt and had the perfect stance to absorb the impact of the
blow, he went sliding backward, out of reach of the giant.
Bhima blinked and looked at his feet, but only for a moment.
He looked back up at the demon just as he was about to be hammered into the
ground. Yet, suddenly, he went sliding backwards again, around trees and
boulders, out of the demon’s reach. Bhima picked himself up and looked around.
There was the girl, she’d followed them! She was standing behind the Rakshas
and Bhima was furious with her for not staying far away where she would be
safe. Get back, get away, he wanted
to shout at her, but there was no time.
The demon moved to stomp on him again and Bhima was ready to
jump. His plan was to use the demon's own blows against him. Then when he was tired, Bhima would go for the back of his neck and end this duel.
He went sliding backwards again. Astonished, frustrated,
Bhima looked around to find out what was going on. A glance at the girl with her
hand up made him realize. She was doing it. She was pushing him back, trying to
protect him!
Of course. She didn’t know about his own great strength,
Bhima thought. How could she? He shook his head at her to indicate that, no, he
didn’t need help.
Her plump lips parted in dismay. She shook her head, frantic.
Bhima frowned. He jerked his head to the side to order her back, away from danger.
She frowned and shook her head again, emphatic.
Her plump lips parted in dismay. She shook her head, frantic.
Bhima frowned. He jerked his head to the side to order her back, away from danger.
She frowned and shook her head again, emphatic.
Bhima groaned. He’d have to prove it to her. Offense,
he thought, and pivoted. He took a running leap and backhanded the Rakshas at
the ankle. Due to the celestial gifts Bhima had received, a blow
from him was the equivalent of a blow from seventy thousand elephants.
The demon howled and stepped back. In the confusion, Bhima
climbed up the trunk-like leg, using the demon’s leg hairs and tribal clothes
as ropes and hand holds. He reached the knee and climbed around it to balance
in front. He brought both hands together to smash them into the demon’s
humungous kneecap.
As the Pandavas approached the scene of Bhima balanced precariously over the giant’s knee,
Yudhistira halted his younger brothers, their mother Kunti safely behind them.
“Will you look at that Rakshas?” Nakula gasped.
Arjuna moved to help Bhima but Yudhistira grabbed his arm.
“No, Arjuna. Two against one is not fair.”
“But that’s a giant!” Arjuna said.
“And our Bhima is a son of the Wind God.” Yudhistira
reminded him. “One could argue that he has an unfair advantage. Just watch.”
The brothers and Kunti watched in anxiety as the demon
knocked Bhima off his leg and stepped back, clutching his knee.
Bhima hit the ground and rolled, coming up into a defensive
position in one smooth motion. He knew he had to attack again, and quickly, to
keep the girl out of the fray. He was terrified the demon would see that
she was helping him and kill her.
The Rakshas uprooted a tree and threw it at him.
Bhima jumped out of the way, then around it, taking cover in
its thick branches and leaves.
“You can’t hide, little human,” the demon taunted.
But Bhima was using the cover to run all the way to another
tree in the distance. He was halfway up the standing tree trunk when the Rakshas lifted the
fallen tree away, thinking to expose Bhima’s hiding place. Bhima continued climbing.
He grabbed a vine and swung, grasping the strong threads beneath his fingers, reaching another tree closer to the demon’s head. He grabbed another vine and swung again to another tree closer still. He leaped and landed just between the giant’s
shoulder blades, clutching one of his thick wiry dreadlocks. It felt rather like a tree vine only tougher.
The demon swatted at him but Bhima went sliding down the dreadlock, his elbow ready. Putting the full force of his strength into the
blow, Bhima slammed his elbow into the base of the giant’s spine. There was a shattering
crack.
Almost in slow motion, the demon crumpled to the ground, his
legs rendered useless by the attack.
Bhima was in the
wrong position to leap out of the way but then he was yanked backwards, clear
out from under the giant’s collapsing body! On his knees, catching his breath, he
looked at the girl across the clearing. He almost smiled - maybe he needed her help after all. He nodded his thanks.
She stared back, her big eyes unblinking, her hands still in a yanking motion. Bhima rose and ran to the demon’s head.
She stared back, her big eyes unblinking, her hands still in a yanking motion. Bhima rose and ran to the demon’s head.
The Rakshas lay on his back, dazed.
“I wasn’t hiding,” Bhima told the Rakshas as the sounds of
the terrible fall still reverberated around the forest, making the trees
shudder and the earth moan.
The demon roared his fury and reached out to catch Bhima,
who ducked and nimbly skirted out of the way. With a vicious sound between his
teeth, the Rakshas used his arms and shoulders to turn over onto his stomach.
It was a mistake.
Bhima vaulted onto his back and grabbed the giant’s right
arm, twisting it backwards in its socket. The demon moaned in agony, trying to
catch him with his left hand. Bhima brought the right arm back out of reach and
over the demon’s head, in a totally unnatural position. There was a snap and a
horrible ripping sound as Bhima tore the limb off. He tossed it away.
“You won’t be raising that hand to any more women now, will
you?” Bhima asked as the demon screamed his pain. “No, nor this one,” he said,
grabbing the other hand. The demon fought and writhed but Bhima still tore the
limb off and threw it away.
“Back home in Hastinapur,” Bhima told the still screaming
demon, “we call that justice. But don’t worry. You won’t be in pain for long.”
The giant lay there, sobbing into the earth. His legs were
useless, his arms ripped away. There was only one thing left for Bhima to do.
He climbed up another tree. The branches towards the top thinned out and as he
scooted onto one such branch, it bent, looming over the demon’s head.
“Say your last prayers, Rakshas,” Bhima said, standing perfectly balanced on the branch. “And when you
meet your brethren in the afterlife, tell them that Bhima, son of Kunti, did
this to you. Tell them that any man who hurts a woman will meet the same fate.
Tell them to warn their offspring that this is the law of the land.”
He waited a few moments. Then Bhima dropped from the tree, elbow first. He slammed himself into the back of the demon’s head, crushing it. Bhima felt his elbow sink into skull and brain, and tasted the stench of death in the air. He wrenched himself out of the crater.
He waited a few moments. Then Bhima dropped from the tree, elbow first. He slammed himself into the back of the demon’s head, crushing it. Bhima felt his elbow sink into skull and brain, and tasted the stench of death in the air. He wrenched himself out of the crater.
There was a silence in the forest around him. Breathing
deeply, Bhima climbed down to the ground and used the demon’s tattered clothing
to wipe the dirt from his body. He walked towards the girl. She was staring at
him with an expression he didn’t recognize. She looked pale, even though she had dark skin. He stood before her, awkward. “You’re safe now,” he told her. “He’ll never
hurt you again.”
His brothers and mother chose that moment to rush towards
them.
“My darling, are you alright?” Kunti said, grabbing his face
and turning him towards her. “You must be bruised all over!” she said, wiping the sweat off his brow with her sari.
“I’m fine, Mother.” His body still hummed from the fight, his blood pumping through his veins in excitement. His mother continued to tenderly pat his body, looking for injuries.
“Amazing fight!” Nakula said, grinning. “The way you shattered
his spine, Guru Drona couldn’t have done it better!”
“It’s not a laughing matter, Nakula,” Yudhistira said. “A
man is dead.” They all looked to the corpse with somber faces. “But it was well
fought. You conducted yourself admirably,” Yudhistira told Bhima.
“I only fought him to protect the lady and you,” Bhima said
quietly. “He would have killed you all.”
“I know,” Crown Prince Yudhistira told him. “You acted
within the law.”
“And the lady was herself remarkable!” Arjuna exclaimed,
smiling at the tribal girl. “We all saw how she helped you.”
The brothers all murmured agreements, looking at her with
open curiosity.
Up until now, the pretty girl hadn’t said a word, merely stared from
Bhima to each of them and back again. Bhima thought she was frightened but didn't know what to do to reassure her.
Kunti moved towards her. “Where is your home, child?” she
asked. “We’ll see you there safely.”
Suddenly, the girl’s face crumpled and she fell at Kunti’s
feet. Bhima moved to catch her, thinking she'd fainted but then she sobbed: “I have no home.”
“No home?” Kunti asked in dismay. She crouched down to the
girl’s level. “But how-?”
The girl pointed at the demon’s corpse. “He was all I had in
the world. He was my brother.”
Stunned, the Pandavas looked from the corpse to Bhima, who raised his hands to his head, horrified.
“You killed her brother?” Arjuna asked. “Did you know-?”
“Of course not!” Bhima said. “I saw him striking her and
I-I-then he threatened to kill you all and I-"
“No,” the girl said to Bhima. “You were right to kill him.
He was cruel. He wanted to eat you all. I tried to stop it but-but he is-was... He was my
brother! And now I am an orphan. Now I have no one," she wept.
Bhima stared down at her, wanting to say something, do something to stop her tears, but he
didn’t know what. He was stupid, stupid! He came to his knees beside her, and stayed silent.
“But why,” Sahadev asked, “why was he hurting you if he
was your brother? Even in Rakshas clans the men protect the women.”
“He was angry because I fell in love.” The teenaged girl
wiped her tears but more fell. “With you.” She gazed up at Bhima beside her, her plump lips trembling.
The Pandavas were dead silent. Then:
“Weeeeell,” Arjuna said, laughter in his voice.
“Shut up, Arjuna,” Bhima snapped. He gazed at the
girl, feeling even more stupid than before. She was in love? With him? He didn’t understand. He’d never had a girl be
in love with him before. He wasn’t handsome like his brothers. What was he supposed to say? Or do? He didn't know so he just kneeled mute, looking at her. Her dark skin was catching the early dawn whispers of light. It looked soft.
Kunti was still crouched besides the girl, and put her hand tenderly
on the girl’s curly head. “What do you wish, my dear?”
The girl’s words were muffled but audible enough. “I wish to
marry your son.”
Bhima felt his brothers gawk at him as he flushed red all
over. He looked into the girl’s big dark eyes and felt a strange tightening in his
belly.
Kunti smoothed the girl's black curls from her face, touching
the tribal beads and demon marks at her temples. Kunti looked over at
Yudhistira. “What does dharma say?”
“Dharma says it is wrong to leave a female unprotected and
without family. Those responsible for leaving her without family must make
restitution.”
Restitution, Bhima thought.
Restitution, Bhima thought.
“Yet she is Rakshas,” Kunti said. “And Bhima could never
remain here in the forest when he is needed in Hastinapur.”
Yudhistira smiled. “According to dharma, one is Rakshas by
action as well as nature. We all saw her help Bhima against her own brother.
Her actions speak for themselves.”
Kunti nodded slowly.
“But Bhima is a prince and his duty is to safeguard the
nation,” Yudhistira continued. “That is a great and heavy destiny. Therefore,
according to dharma, he cannot remain here in this forest.”
Kunti nodded again.
“You're our mother,” Yudhistira told her. “Whatever your
decision is, it will be just.”
Kunti gazed from the girl to Bhima to the demon’s dead body behind them,
thinking for several moments.
Bhima didn’t know what to think. He could feel the heat of the girls body beside him, felt the wetness of her tears as if they were against his own skin. All he knew was that each second before hearing his mother’s decision was an
agony.
Kunti looked from the demon’s body to Bhima again, a strange
look in her eye. “What is your name, my dear?” she asked the girl.
“Hidimba. And that was my brother Hidimb.”
Kunti wiped Hidimba’s tears. “If my son Bhima married you,
he could never live in this forest forever. You understand that, don’t you?
Hidimba nodded. “And I could never leave this forest. It’s
where my people belong,” she sighed, a breathy sound, and Bhima clenched his teeth. “But what if he were to stay with me until
we had a son? Then he could come back to you and I would have family.”
A son! Bhima thought.
A son! Bhima thought.
Kunti blinked. “Wouldn’t it make you unhappy if Bhima were
to leave you?”
“Of course it would. But I’ll always love him regardless,” Hidimba told Kunti. “At least this way I get to have him for a
little while. And I know,” she looked up at him, her face shining with worship,
“I know he is a great warrior. You’ll need him in your kingdom. It wouldn’t be
fair to keep him with me.”
Kunti embraced the girl fully, lovingly. “Your feelings do
you great credit, Hidimba.” She pulled back and gently caused the girl to rise.
“Bhima, come here,” she said, gesturing to him to rise also.
His brothers cheered and clapped him on the back after they
pulled him up, to where his mother was standing with Hidimba. His mother
took his big hand and placed Hidimba’s smaller hand inside it. “May you make
each other happy,” she blessed them.
Bhima felt the girl’s palm and was amazed at its softness,
its smallness. He closed his fingers around it gently, afraid he would hurt her.
Hidimba intertwined her fingers with his and he felt a rush of warmth in his
stomach.
Kunti ordered the younger brothers to go collect flowers and
make the wedding garlands, since the sun was coming up. In the meantime she and
Yudhistira would find water to wash the bride and groom.
As the younger brothers walked away to follow orders, Nakula
said: “You know, they didn’t even ask Bhima if he wanted to marry her. Isn’t that a
little unfair?”
Sahadev punched his shoulder. “You dolt. Look at that
Rakshas.” Nakula glanced over at the dead body. “Bhima did that and all because Hidimb was hurting Hidimba.” Nakula was blank
faced. Sahadev gave him an exasperated look. “Doesn’t a broken back, paralysed
legs, arms torn off and smashed skull seem a little overzealous to you? He
could have just taken Hidimb out at the neck and been done with it.”
A slow dawning came over Nakula’s face. “Oh!”
“Yes. And what about his speech at the end? ‘Tell your brethren Bhima did this to you.’
Talk about showing off!”
“Never mind that,” Arjuna said. “But who knew our Bhima was
such a lady’s man?”
All three of them paused in their path through the forest
and looked back in the distance to where Bhima and Hidimba were standing
together. The betrothed were holding hands in the early dawn light, giving each
other shy smiles, totally unaware that Kunti stood with them as chaperone.
Still amazed, the world's most powerful warriors went hunting for flowers.
Click here for the next Mahabharat post entitled Intense.
Still amazed, the world's most powerful warriors went hunting for flowers.
Click here for the next Mahabharat post entitled Intense.
Friday, February 1, 2013
Hidimba - Demon Love
This is part of my ongoing series on the Mahabharat, an epic poem of ancient India. For links to all previous Mahabharat posts go here. Or you can simply click on the Mahabharat page link above.
Valentine's Day is coming up. As you know, I don't particularly like Valentine's Day. But I do like good stories. So here's a good story for you:
Teenaged Bhima sat with his back propped up against a banyan tree, staring out into the dark forest. He'd picked his spot so that cover was provided by the banyan reeds that hung down around him. His brothers and mother slept under another banyan close by.
His mother stirred, then sat up. Bhima watched her look over her sons by the dim slivers of moonlight that filtered through the tree branches. He knew the precise moment she realised Bhima wasn't there because she tensed and looked around.
He waved at her. She visibly relaxed her shoulders and rose. As she came towards him, her white widow's sari caught the moonlight and glowed. Bhima bit his lip. His mother, a queen, had suffered so much since his father had died. She'd borne such sorrow. And now this... He wanted to beat Duryodhan with his bare hands for plotting to kill them in Varnavat, forcing them to flee and live like this.
Kunti picked her way through the banyan branches and crouched beside him. "What's the matter, my darling?"
"Nothing, Mother."
She brushed a lock of his curly hair from his forehead. "Then why do you not sleep? You carried me so far today."
"Someone must keep watch."
"Then wake one of your brothers."
He shook his head. "You know I don't get tired the way the others do."
"Still, you should wake one of them. I'll wake Yudhistira."
"No, Mother. He's the crown prince. It's my job to serve him."
"Then one of your younger brothers-"
"No, they're younger. I must take care of them."
She sighed. "You take care of everyone but yourself. It's not good."
He grinned. "What do you suggest?"
"A wife?"
The look of horror on his face made her laugh. She covered her mouth with her hand so her other sons didn't wake. "It's not as bad as you may think," she told him after a moment. "A wife can be a great comfort. You're of age for marriage. You've graduated from school and begun your life's work. If we were in Hastinapur I would've looked for brides for you all."
Her words made him sober again. "We're not in Hastinapur, Mother."
She sighed again. "No, we're not. It's yet another blame to lay at our enemies' feet. Now you must wait who-knows-how-long to marry. "
"Waiting isn't so bad."
She laughed again. "When you see a girl you like, then we shall see if you like waiting."
"Mother."
She laughed again. "Alright, my shy son. Alright. I'll say no more. And listen, I command you to wake one of your brothers in a hour so that you may rest."
"Yes, Mother."
She rose and went back to lay down close to his brothers. He watched as her breathing evened into sleep.
Taking a deep breath Bhima resumed his watch, scanning the dark for foes, his hearing sharpened to catch any slight difference in the night air...
Deep in the forest the demon girl, Hidimba, served her elder brother, Hidimb, a meal during his visit to her tree house. He drank deeply of the clay cup she offered him, then looked at her in offense. "What is this? Milk? Where is the wine?"
"I don't keep wine here, Brother."
"And what is this?" Hidimb picked up the bread and cooked leaves she'd served. "Why do you give me this? Where is the meat?"
Hidimba bowed her head. "You know I don't like meat, Brother. The smell-"
"Smell? Yes, the smell! It's delicious."
"It makes me feel sick, Brother. The blood-"
"The blood is the best part!" he roared.
She swallowed, her throat dry. "I don't like to kill things-"
"What do you think I do for a living?" he snapped. "We are Rakshas. We kill, we eat meat, we drink blood."
She made an effort to blink back her tears. "I try not to kill things," she whispered.
"Hidimba," he said, "you must conquer this weakness of yours. I don't know what our mother did to make you this weak. I thought letting you live here so deep in the forest would toughen you up. Instead, you are worse! But it must stop or you'll disgrace our clan in the Rakshas community. I plan to serve the flesh of a hundred humans at your wedding but how can I marry you off when you won't even serve a man meat?"
She wrung her hands. "Forgive me, Brother."
"I'll forgive you nothing until you serve me a decent meal. Go and get some meat. I smelled humans as I came here but I didn't stop to kill them because I assumed you'd have my dinner ready. Go and get those humans so I can eat."
She still had her head down and she squeezed her eyes shut. "I do have dinner ready though, Brother. I've cooked so many roots and leaves and breads and I have honeycomb for you-"
"I'll eat the honeycomb only after I've eaten my meat. Go!"
Knowing there was no way out, she turned and left the hunt, climbing down the rope to the ground.
She could smell the humans, just as her brother could, but she'd kept her foraging away from them. She tried to avoid humans because they were frightened by her tribal clothes and demon marks.
She hoped that these humans close by were old and had lived a full life, since she would have to kill them now for Hidimb. There was nothing else she could do because if she returned without them her brother would only kill them himself, after beating her. Then he would force her to eat them with him. At least this way, she could lessen their suffering and get out of eating them too.
She smelled a deer close by and considered killing that instead to take to Hidimb. But she knew it would make him angry and he would only send her for the humans again. And then she'd have killed the deer as well as the humans. And in many ways it was worse, killing animals like deer and goat and cow. They never tried to hurt others. Humans sometimes fought and killed like Rakshas did but those animals only ever fought each other for a mate, or to protect their families. They didn't kill. They were innocent.
As she got closer to where they slept, Hidimba could smell only one human who was old, a female. The others were young males. It saddened her but she didn't anticipate a hard fight, her demon blood made killing a simple affair for her.
With a heavy heart, she moved toward them, her steps silent on the ground . She blended into the shadows, found the direction of the wind and walked into it so that her scent and any small sound she made would carry behind her, not towards her prey. She was an excellent huntress because her mother had taught her.
Mother, she wondered, why must this be the only way? Why must we make others suffer?
She came upon a clearing and could now see four young men and an old lady sleeping under a banyan tree. A mother and her sons, clearly. But Hidimba's nose told her there was one other. She scanned the area and caught a glimpse of him sitting under another tree, a distance away. He was so well hidden that if not for his scent she would never have known he was there.
She would have to kill him first so he couldn't alert the others. She melted back into the shadows and moved closer to him. His scent was strong, manly, and she paused, considering the best way to kill him. She decided to get a good look at him, to see how strong he was.
Silent, she crept around his position and crouched in the bushes behind him. The branches in the banyan were thinner here and she could see his profile as he looked out into the forest.
Her demon vision were sharp and she noted his straight nose, his clear brow. He had curly hair that bounced as he moved his head. He was large. She almost gasped at how large he was. Not as big as her brother Hidimb, of course, but she'd still never seen a human this massive. His shoulders were as wide as the ancient banyan tree trunk behind him.
As she watched he shook himself, as if to wake up, and ran his hands through his hair. The moonlight picked out the perfect contours of his muscled arms and shoulders, and his big hands with their long fingers.
Suddenly he turned his head and looked right at her. She froze, crouched in the bushes. She knew he couldn't see her, or smell her, or hear her, but every hunter knew that instinct was everything. If he sensed her presence, she was caught.
If she was caught, she didn't care. His features were strong and noble, with a square jaw, high cheekbones, and straight brows. He was the most beautiful man she'd ever seen. She looked deep into his dark eyes as he gazed towards her and for a moment, she was sure she was caught. His gaze narrowed on her position and she tensed for an assault.
He turned back around and slumped against the tree, lolling his head against the bark as if bored.
With the reprieve, Hidimba realised she was shaking. Her senses returned. If she'd been captured and her brother came to find her, this beautiful man would die.
She couldn't let that happen. She wouldn't let any of these humans die. She'd find something else, anything else, to take back to Hidimb. She'd do whatever she had to and save this man's life.
She retreated and made her way through the forest, looking for other prey yet in her mind's eye all she could see was him, his dark eyes narrowed, his shoulders gleaming in the moonlight as he watched over his family. He was so beautiful. How could anyone be so beautiful?
She turned down a trail and walked straight into Hidimb's massive chest.
He grasped her arms and pulled her back. "What are you doing?"
She stared up at him, her mind screaming. "Brother, I was just hunting. There's some wonderful deer close by-"
"There are some wonderful humans close by."
"N-n-no, I just came from there. We cannot eat them, Brother, they are sick."
"Sick? I smell no sickness."
"It-it is a different sickness. We've never seen it before. It is harmful. Come, let us go-"
"You're lying. Stupid girl! I can't even get you to bring me some human when I ask you. How will you feed your husband this way?" He brushed past her and headed in their direction.
She grabbed his arm. "I beg you, Brother."
He looked at her in disgust. "You beg? We are Rakshas, we don't beg! Have we taught you nothing?"
He tried to pull away but she held fast. "You must not! I'm in love with him."
Hidimb gaped at her. "Love?" He wrenched his arm away. "LOVE! You dare humiliate our clan this way? You dare?"
She was weeping. She knew Hidimb would beat her now but she had to protect her love. Then it would be worth it. She sank to her knees. "I won't fight you. I promise I won't. As long as you promise you won't kill those humans."
He raised his arm to backhand her. "I promise nothing," he growled.
To be continued...
Click here to read the next Mahabharat post.
Click here to read the previous Mahabharat post.
Valentine's Day is coming up. As you know, I don't particularly like Valentine's Day. But I do like good stories. So here's a good story for you:
Teenaged Bhima sat with his back propped up against a banyan tree, staring out into the dark forest. He'd picked his spot so that cover was provided by the banyan reeds that hung down around him. His brothers and mother slept under another banyan close by.
His mother stirred, then sat up. Bhima watched her look over her sons by the dim slivers of moonlight that filtered through the tree branches. He knew the precise moment she realised Bhima wasn't there because she tensed and looked around.
He waved at her. She visibly relaxed her shoulders and rose. As she came towards him, her white widow's sari caught the moonlight and glowed. Bhima bit his lip. His mother, a queen, had suffered so much since his father had died. She'd borne such sorrow. And now this... He wanted to beat Duryodhan with his bare hands for plotting to kill them in Varnavat, forcing them to flee and live like this.
Kunti picked her way through the banyan branches and crouched beside him. "What's the matter, my darling?"
"Nothing, Mother."
She brushed a lock of his curly hair from his forehead. "Then why do you not sleep? You carried me so far today."
"Someone must keep watch."
"Then wake one of your brothers."
He shook his head. "You know I don't get tired the way the others do."
"Still, you should wake one of them. I'll wake Yudhistira."
"No, Mother. He's the crown prince. It's my job to serve him."
"Then one of your younger brothers-"
"No, they're younger. I must take care of them."
She sighed. "You take care of everyone but yourself. It's not good."
He grinned. "What do you suggest?"
"A wife?"
The look of horror on his face made her laugh. She covered her mouth with her hand so her other sons didn't wake. "It's not as bad as you may think," she told him after a moment. "A wife can be a great comfort. You're of age for marriage. You've graduated from school and begun your life's work. If we were in Hastinapur I would've looked for brides for you all."
Her words made him sober again. "We're not in Hastinapur, Mother."
She sighed again. "No, we're not. It's yet another blame to lay at our enemies' feet. Now you must wait who-knows-how-long to marry. "
"Waiting isn't so bad."
She laughed again. "When you see a girl you like, then we shall see if you like waiting."
"Mother."
She laughed again. "Alright, my shy son. Alright. I'll say no more. And listen, I command you to wake one of your brothers in a hour so that you may rest."
"Yes, Mother."
She rose and went back to lay down close to his brothers. He watched as her breathing evened into sleep.
Taking a deep breath Bhima resumed his watch, scanning the dark for foes, his hearing sharpened to catch any slight difference in the night air...
Deep in the forest the demon girl, Hidimba, served her elder brother, Hidimb, a meal during his visit to her tree house. He drank deeply of the clay cup she offered him, then looked at her in offense. "What is this? Milk? Where is the wine?"
"I don't keep wine here, Brother."
"And what is this?" Hidimb picked up the bread and cooked leaves she'd served. "Why do you give me this? Where is the meat?"
Hidimba bowed her head. "You know I don't like meat, Brother. The smell-"
"Smell? Yes, the smell! It's delicious."
"It makes me feel sick, Brother. The blood-"
"The blood is the best part!" he roared.
She swallowed, her throat dry. "I don't like to kill things-"
"What do you think I do for a living?" he snapped. "We are Rakshas. We kill, we eat meat, we drink blood."
She made an effort to blink back her tears. "I try not to kill things," she whispered.
"Hidimba," he said, "you must conquer this weakness of yours. I don't know what our mother did to make you this weak. I thought letting you live here so deep in the forest would toughen you up. Instead, you are worse! But it must stop or you'll disgrace our clan in the Rakshas community. I plan to serve the flesh of a hundred humans at your wedding but how can I marry you off when you won't even serve a man meat?"
She wrung her hands. "Forgive me, Brother."
"I'll forgive you nothing until you serve me a decent meal. Go and get some meat. I smelled humans as I came here but I didn't stop to kill them because I assumed you'd have my dinner ready. Go and get those humans so I can eat."
She still had her head down and she squeezed her eyes shut. "I do have dinner ready though, Brother. I've cooked so many roots and leaves and breads and I have honeycomb for you-"
"I'll eat the honeycomb only after I've eaten my meat. Go!"
Knowing there was no way out, she turned and left the hunt, climbing down the rope to the ground.
She could smell the humans, just as her brother could, but she'd kept her foraging away from them. She tried to avoid humans because they were frightened by her tribal clothes and demon marks.
She hoped that these humans close by were old and had lived a full life, since she would have to kill them now for Hidimb. There was nothing else she could do because if she returned without them her brother would only kill them himself, after beating her. Then he would force her to eat them with him. At least this way, she could lessen their suffering and get out of eating them too.
She smelled a deer close by and considered killing that instead to take to Hidimb. But she knew it would make him angry and he would only send her for the humans again. And then she'd have killed the deer as well as the humans. And in many ways it was worse, killing animals like deer and goat and cow. They never tried to hurt others. Humans sometimes fought and killed like Rakshas did but those animals only ever fought each other for a mate, or to protect their families. They didn't kill. They were innocent.
As she got closer to where they slept, Hidimba could smell only one human who was old, a female. The others were young males. It saddened her but she didn't anticipate a hard fight, her demon blood made killing a simple affair for her.
With a heavy heart, she moved toward them, her steps silent on the ground . She blended into the shadows, found the direction of the wind and walked into it so that her scent and any small sound she made would carry behind her, not towards her prey. She was an excellent huntress because her mother had taught her.
Mother, she wondered, why must this be the only way? Why must we make others suffer?
She came upon a clearing and could now see four young men and an old lady sleeping under a banyan tree. A mother and her sons, clearly. But Hidimba's nose told her there was one other. She scanned the area and caught a glimpse of him sitting under another tree, a distance away. He was so well hidden that if not for his scent she would never have known he was there.
She would have to kill him first so he couldn't alert the others. She melted back into the shadows and moved closer to him. His scent was strong, manly, and she paused, considering the best way to kill him. She decided to get a good look at him, to see how strong he was.
Silent, she crept around his position and crouched in the bushes behind him. The branches in the banyan were thinner here and she could see his profile as he looked out into the forest.
Her demon vision were sharp and she noted his straight nose, his clear brow. He had curly hair that bounced as he moved his head. He was large. She almost gasped at how large he was. Not as big as her brother Hidimb, of course, but she'd still never seen a human this massive. His shoulders were as wide as the ancient banyan tree trunk behind him.
As she watched he shook himself, as if to wake up, and ran his hands through his hair. The moonlight picked out the perfect contours of his muscled arms and shoulders, and his big hands with their long fingers.
Suddenly he turned his head and looked right at her. She froze, crouched in the bushes. She knew he couldn't see her, or smell her, or hear her, but every hunter knew that instinct was everything. If he sensed her presence, she was caught.
If she was caught, she didn't care. His features were strong and noble, with a square jaw, high cheekbones, and straight brows. He was the most beautiful man she'd ever seen. She looked deep into his dark eyes as he gazed towards her and for a moment, she was sure she was caught. His gaze narrowed on her position and she tensed for an assault.
He turned back around and slumped against the tree, lolling his head against the bark as if bored.
With the reprieve, Hidimba realised she was shaking. Her senses returned. If she'd been captured and her brother came to find her, this beautiful man would die.
She couldn't let that happen. She wouldn't let any of these humans die. She'd find something else, anything else, to take back to Hidimb. She'd do whatever she had to and save this man's life.
She retreated and made her way through the forest, looking for other prey yet in her mind's eye all she could see was him, his dark eyes narrowed, his shoulders gleaming in the moonlight as he watched over his family. He was so beautiful. How could anyone be so beautiful?
She turned down a trail and walked straight into Hidimb's massive chest.
He grasped her arms and pulled her back. "What are you doing?"
She stared up at him, her mind screaming. "Brother, I was just hunting. There's some wonderful deer close by-"
"There are some wonderful humans close by."
"N-n-no, I just came from there. We cannot eat them, Brother, they are sick."
"Sick? I smell no sickness."
"It-it is a different sickness. We've never seen it before. It is harmful. Come, let us go-"
"You're lying. Stupid girl! I can't even get you to bring me some human when I ask you. How will you feed your husband this way?" He brushed past her and headed in their direction.
She grabbed his arm. "I beg you, Brother."
He looked at her in disgust. "You beg? We are Rakshas, we don't beg! Have we taught you nothing?"
He tried to pull away but she held fast. "You must not! I'm in love with him."
Hidimb gaped at her. "Love?" He wrenched his arm away. "LOVE! You dare humiliate our clan this way? You dare?"
She was weeping. She knew Hidimb would beat her now but she had to protect her love. Then it would be worth it. She sank to her knees. "I won't fight you. I promise I won't. As long as you promise you won't kill those humans."
He raised his arm to backhand her. "I promise nothing," he growled.
To be continued...
Click here to read the next Mahabharat post.
Click here to read the previous Mahabharat post.
Friday, January 11, 2013
Daughters of Fire
This is part of my ongoing series on the Mahabharat, an epic poem of ancient India. For links to all previous Mahabharat posts go here. Or you can simply click on the Mahabharat page link above.
This is an extract of Part V of my Draupadi - Born of Fire series. If you would like to read the whole series, these are the first, second, third, fourth, fifth, and sixth parts.
As many of you will know, this story is about Draupadi, the Queen of the Pandavas, who knew what it was to be abused by a vicious gang of men. She understood the shame and guilt and loneliness that came with such trauma. And all her life after that event, she advocated for justice for women.
This re-post is for Jyoti Singh Pandey. And for all the Daughters of Fire in the world.
The Hindu scriptures state that where women are abused there can be no peace. Thus the abuse that Draupadi suffered made war inevitable between the Pandavas and the Kauravas. And it was not just an external war with armies and soldiers. It was an internal war. An emotional war.
A spiritual war.
All those who were witness to that day were tormented by it. The Pandavas, the elders, the courtiers, the doormen.
The Pandavas went into exile for thirteen years to atone for the wrongs they committed. Yudhishtira performed penance but knew it was not enough. He could never forgive himself for his moments of madness in that gambling hall.
The younger Pandavas attempted to find comfort in preparing for war but in that there was only anger. Bhima vowed to kill Duryodhan and Dushashan. Arjuna vowed to kill Karna. Sahadev vowed to kill Shakuni. There could be no peace in their minds. They stewed in their memories and their lost honour.
The Kauravas, though in their minds they thirsted for war, in their hearts they dreaded facing the Pandavas. Duryodhan had an iron statue of Bhima made to practice his mace skills on so he would be prepared for his duel with the strongest of the Pandavas. Karna hated himself for his actions and even when he was given the chance to change sides couldn't forgive himself enough to do it. He didn't want to kill Arjuna and knew that in the end Arjuna would kill him. Dushashan had nightmares of Bhima killing him for trying to strip Draupadi naked. They pretended to be fearless but in their hearts they were quaking.
Kunti told Draupadi that for the first time in her life she was ashamed of her children. Gandhari could never forgive her own sons and refused to bless them with victory when it came to the final declaration of war. The women of Hastinapur knew that if the royal family could treat Draupadi this way then women had no value in their society.
Draupadi was true to her word to Gandhari. She did indeed forgive all who were in that hall including her own husbands and the elders. Could any of us have done that? Probably not. That was how strong Draupadi was. To forgive is the deepest kind of strength because it means to let go of our anger and bitterness and to still love even those who have wronged us.
Draupadi forgave. Draupadi loved. But she could never banish the memories.
She forgave everyone except for the four perpertrators, Duryodhan, Dushashan, Karna and Shakuni. She never allowed the Pandavas to forget that. She told her husbands she would not bind her hair again unti they gave her Dushashan's blood to bathe it with. For years she left her hair unbound and uncared for so that every time her husbands saw it they would remember and be inspired to fight.
But there is still a more important and sobering point to learn. A person might have family, friends, partners, elders, teachers. A person might feel protected and sheltered and safe. But when it comes to real problems when a person truly needs help there is no one.
In joy we have all. In sorrow we have none.
Draupadi realised this that terrible day in the gambling hall. She knew there was only one true relation - one true love - and that was the Almighty.
Later when Draupadi and Krishna met in person she sat next to him and told him of the horror she had endured. Of how Dushashan dragged her by her hair into the gambling hall. Of how Duryodhan leered and told her to sit in his lap. Of how Karna called her a prostitute. Of how they'd attempted to strip her naked in front of the entire court. And of how, apart from Krishna himself, no one in that court came to her aid.
Krishna listened. He put his hand on her head. He wiped her tears. And told her this:
"My dear one, it was not you who was humiliated. It was not you who was abused and slandered. It was not you who was stripped of clothes. It was ME. I was humiliated. I was slandered. I was insulted. And I will avenge this horror, Krishne."
By calling her Krishne, the feminine version of his own name, he gave her his identity. By taking her humiliation unto himself, he gave her back her self-respect. By promising to right this wrong, he cherished her and showed the rest of the world what justice was.
When Arjuna stood on the battlefield years later Krishna told him to fight the Kauravas for the dignity of womankind. So that in the future women would be able to hold their heads up and know they were honoured. So that all men who sought to abuse women would remember this war and know this lesson.
When women are abused it is an offense against god. A violation of his laws. And as Krishna assured Draupadi there will be retribution.
Where women are abused there shall be war.
One of my uncle's forwarded an email to me that is going round India right now. It was about Jyoti Singh Pandey. At the end it said: "Rest in Peace, Sister. We will avenge you."
Rest in peace, Jyoti. Rest in peace, Daughters of Fire. We will avenge you.
Petition: Say no to violence against women.
Petition: Stop gang rape
Petition: End rape
Go here for the next Mahabharat post.
This is an extract of Part V of my Draupadi - Born of Fire series. If you would like to read the whole series, these are the first, second, third, fourth, fifth, and sixth parts.
As many of you will know, this story is about Draupadi, the Queen of the Pandavas, who knew what it was to be abused by a vicious gang of men. She understood the shame and guilt and loneliness that came with such trauma. And all her life after that event, she advocated for justice for women.
This re-post is for Jyoti Singh Pandey. And for all the Daughters of Fire in the world.
The Hindu scriptures state that where women are abused there can be no peace. Thus the abuse that Draupadi suffered made war inevitable between the Pandavas and the Kauravas. And it was not just an external war with armies and soldiers. It was an internal war. An emotional war.
A spiritual war.
All those who were witness to that day were tormented by it. The Pandavas, the elders, the courtiers, the doormen.
The Pandavas went into exile for thirteen years to atone for the wrongs they committed. Yudhishtira performed penance but knew it was not enough. He could never forgive himself for his moments of madness in that gambling hall.
The younger Pandavas attempted to find comfort in preparing for war but in that there was only anger. Bhima vowed to kill Duryodhan and Dushashan. Arjuna vowed to kill Karna. Sahadev vowed to kill Shakuni. There could be no peace in their minds. They stewed in their memories and their lost honour.
The Kauravas, though in their minds they thirsted for war, in their hearts they dreaded facing the Pandavas. Duryodhan had an iron statue of Bhima made to practice his mace skills on so he would be prepared for his duel with the strongest of the Pandavas. Karna hated himself for his actions and even when he was given the chance to change sides couldn't forgive himself enough to do it. He didn't want to kill Arjuna and knew that in the end Arjuna would kill him. Dushashan had nightmares of Bhima killing him for trying to strip Draupadi naked. They pretended to be fearless but in their hearts they were quaking.
Kunti told Draupadi that for the first time in her life she was ashamed of her children. Gandhari could never forgive her own sons and refused to bless them with victory when it came to the final declaration of war. The women of Hastinapur knew that if the royal family could treat Draupadi this way then women had no value in their society.
Draupadi was true to her word to Gandhari. She did indeed forgive all who were in that hall including her own husbands and the elders. Could any of us have done that? Probably not. That was how strong Draupadi was. To forgive is the deepest kind of strength because it means to let go of our anger and bitterness and to still love even those who have wronged us.
Draupadi forgave. Draupadi loved. But she could never banish the memories.
She forgave everyone except for the four perpertrators, Duryodhan, Dushashan, Karna and Shakuni. She never allowed the Pandavas to forget that. She told her husbands she would not bind her hair again unti they gave her Dushashan's blood to bathe it with. For years she left her hair unbound and uncared for so that every time her husbands saw it they would remember and be inspired to fight.
But there is still a more important and sobering point to learn. A person might have family, friends, partners, elders, teachers. A person might feel protected and sheltered and safe. But when it comes to real problems when a person truly needs help there is no one.
In joy we have all. In sorrow we have none.
Draupadi realised this that terrible day in the gambling hall. She knew there was only one true relation - one true love - and that was the Almighty.
Later when Draupadi and Krishna met in person she sat next to him and told him of the horror she had endured. Of how Dushashan dragged her by her hair into the gambling hall. Of how Duryodhan leered and told her to sit in his lap. Of how Karna called her a prostitute. Of how they'd attempted to strip her naked in front of the entire court. And of how, apart from Krishna himself, no one in that court came to her aid.
Krishna listened. He put his hand on her head. He wiped her tears. And told her this:
"My dear one, it was not you who was humiliated. It was not you who was abused and slandered. It was not you who was stripped of clothes. It was ME. I was humiliated. I was slandered. I was insulted. And I will avenge this horror, Krishne."
By calling her Krishne, the feminine version of his own name, he gave her his identity. By taking her humiliation unto himself, he gave her back her self-respect. By promising to right this wrong, he cherished her and showed the rest of the world what justice was.When Arjuna stood on the battlefield years later Krishna told him to fight the Kauravas for the dignity of womankind. So that in the future women would be able to hold their heads up and know they were honoured. So that all men who sought to abuse women would remember this war and know this lesson.
When women are abused it is an offense against god. A violation of his laws. And as Krishna assured Draupadi there will be retribution.
Where women are abused there shall be war.
One of my uncle's forwarded an email to me that is going round India right now. It was about Jyoti Singh Pandey. At the end it said: "Rest in Peace, Sister. We will avenge you."
Rest in peace, Jyoti. Rest in peace, Daughters of Fire. We will avenge you.
Petition: Say no to violence against women.
Petition: Stop gang rape
Petition: End rape
Go here for the next Mahabharat post.
Tuesday, January 8, 2013
Bravery
Today I'm going to talk about something that's a little too real for some eyes and ears. If there are any children about, please use discretion.
I'm sure many of you will have heard of the brutal gang rape that killed a 23-year-old medical student in New Delhi. All she did was get on a bus and out of nowhere these men locked her in, beat her, raped her, violated her in every way (including using a metal pipe), and then dumped her naked on the side of the road.
The doctors tried to save her. They had to remove most of her intestines to deal with the damage done. She fought valiantly for two weeks to live. But there's no way anyone could sustain that kind of trauma and live. Those hateful men took her life.
Yet still, somehow, before she died she roused from her pain to tell the police what happened to her. What strength she must have had. What courage.
For someone like me, who loves India and India's history and culture, the story of this girl's ordeal is a horrific reality that cannot be ignored. It's true. Contrary to India's ideals and culture, many of India's women are abused in the worst ways. Particularly in Delhi, the state of Uttar Pradesh, and areas nearby. It's a disgusting despicable truth.
I myself have been subject to the harassment of men while traveling in those parts - the disrespectful words, the degrading stares, even attempts to touch me. It's one of the reasons why I despise Delhi and will only ever go there if I can't avoid it.
It's not like that in other areas, like my home state of Gujarat, and Rajasthan, and many states in South India. It's not like that at all. But these animals in Delhi and Uttar Pradesh are like the dregs of the country. They're a disgrace to the entire nation. They're a disgrace to humanity.
And this poor girl, this poor young woman who was just trying to go home for the evening, is now dead after suffering the worst kind of ordeal that any woman could suffer. NO ONE should have to go through what she did. NO ONE.
Her father gave permission for her name to be revealed to the public. He said: "Tell the world my daughter's name. She did nothing wrong."
He's right. She did nothing wrong. She just got on a bus and those men did what they did. When a woman gets raped she feels like she's to blame but she isn't. It's these rapists who are to blame and who are the disgrace.
We have to make it clear to these animals that they will not be tolerated in India or anywhere else in the world. Because this kind of abuse happens in so many places. In the US, fewer than half of all rapes are ever reported because the women are too ashamed. One study found that only 16% of all rapes are reported.
Only 16%! If that's true, then think what a burden of shame women live under even in a country like America where women are supposedly liberated. Whether it's in the US, or India, or anywhere else in the world women get abused and yet they feel like they are to blame.
But they are not to blame. They are the victims. They are brave while their rapists and abusers are nothing but cowards.
This 23-year-old girl who is now gone from the world showed how brave she was when she told the police what happened to her. Her father showed us all how brave she was by telling us who she was. Her name was Jyoti Singh Pandey and we should never forget it.
Petition: Say no to violence against women.
Petition: Stop gang rape
Petition: End rape
I'm sure many of you will have heard of the brutal gang rape that killed a 23-year-old medical student in New Delhi. All she did was get on a bus and out of nowhere these men locked her in, beat her, raped her, violated her in every way (including using a metal pipe), and then dumped her naked on the side of the road.
The doctors tried to save her. They had to remove most of her intestines to deal with the damage done. She fought valiantly for two weeks to live. But there's no way anyone could sustain that kind of trauma and live. Those hateful men took her life.
Yet still, somehow, before she died she roused from her pain to tell the police what happened to her. What strength she must have had. What courage.
For someone like me, who loves India and India's history and culture, the story of this girl's ordeal is a horrific reality that cannot be ignored. It's true. Contrary to India's ideals and culture, many of India's women are abused in the worst ways. Particularly in Delhi, the state of Uttar Pradesh, and areas nearby. It's a disgusting despicable truth.
I myself have been subject to the harassment of men while traveling in those parts - the disrespectful words, the degrading stares, even attempts to touch me. It's one of the reasons why I despise Delhi and will only ever go there if I can't avoid it.
It's not like that in other areas, like my home state of Gujarat, and Rajasthan, and many states in South India. It's not like that at all. But these animals in Delhi and Uttar Pradesh are like the dregs of the country. They're a disgrace to the entire nation. They're a disgrace to humanity.
And this poor girl, this poor young woman who was just trying to go home for the evening, is now dead after suffering the worst kind of ordeal that any woman could suffer. NO ONE should have to go through what she did. NO ONE.
Her father gave permission for her name to be revealed to the public. He said: "Tell the world my daughter's name. She did nothing wrong."
He's right. She did nothing wrong. She just got on a bus and those men did what they did. When a woman gets raped she feels like she's to blame but she isn't. It's these rapists who are to blame and who are the disgrace.
We have to make it clear to these animals that they will not be tolerated in India or anywhere else in the world. Because this kind of abuse happens in so many places. In the US, fewer than half of all rapes are ever reported because the women are too ashamed. One study found that only 16% of all rapes are reported.
Only 16%! If that's true, then think what a burden of shame women live under even in a country like America where women are supposedly liberated. Whether it's in the US, or India, or anywhere else in the world women get abused and yet they feel like they are to blame.
But they are not to blame. They are the victims. They are brave while their rapists and abusers are nothing but cowards.
This 23-year-old girl who is now gone from the world showed how brave she was when she told the police what happened to her. Her father showed us all how brave she was by telling us who she was. Her name was Jyoti Singh Pandey and we should never forget it.
Petition: Say no to violence against women.
Petition: Stop gang rape
Petition: End rape
Monday, December 31, 2012
Blessing
Here we are again, standing on the threshold of a New Year, trying to figure out how the time flew so fast.
As I look back at this year I realise how rich it's been in friendship for me. As well as deepening the beautiful friendships I already have, in the physical world and on the blogosphere, I've made new friendships also. Friendships with people so true that I treasure them for the goodness of their hearts.
I once heard that each friend you make is a blessing from God.
Yes, this year there have been setbacks, unpleasant people, and moments when I wondered if I was even on the right tract. Yet somehow, through it all, these blessings of mine carried me to this point where I can look back and be grateful.
I know that I have a lot of work to do and lessons to learn. I need to be worthy of these friendships. I need to focus on my goals that have eluded me this past year. I need to find a way to pass on some of this friendship I've received so that it doesn't just stay with me but lives beyond me, in others, all the way around the world.
I'm blessed in so many ways and I want to share those blessings because I've found that when I share, blessings don't diminish, they grow. Friendship is love and love, when shared, always grows.
2013 is just hours away. I'm standing here on the threshold, staring the New Year in the face and wondering how I'm going to be worthy of my friends. But I'm not worried. I know that even if I never become worthy, they'll still hold my hand.
I know you, dear blog readers, will still hold my hand. I'm so grateful for that blessing.
Aum shanti shanti shanti
As I look back at this year I realise how rich it's been in friendship for me. As well as deepening the beautiful friendships I already have, in the physical world and on the blogosphere, I've made new friendships also. Friendships with people so true that I treasure them for the goodness of their hearts.
I once heard that each friend you make is a blessing from God.
Yes, this year there have been setbacks, unpleasant people, and moments when I wondered if I was even on the right tract. Yet somehow, through it all, these blessings of mine carried me to this point where I can look back and be grateful.
I know that I have a lot of work to do and lessons to learn. I need to be worthy of these friendships. I need to focus on my goals that have eluded me this past year. I need to find a way to pass on some of this friendship I've received so that it doesn't just stay with me but lives beyond me, in others, all the way around the world.
I'm blessed in so many ways and I want to share those blessings because I've found that when I share, blessings don't diminish, they grow. Friendship is love and love, when shared, always grows.
2013 is just hours away. I'm standing here on the threshold, staring the New Year in the face and wondering how I'm going to be worthy of my friends. But I'm not worried. I know that even if I never become worthy, they'll still hold my hand.
I know you, dear blog readers, will still hold my hand. I'm so grateful for that blessing.
Aum shanti shanti shanti
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