MAHABHARAT--- Though the fighting between the Pandavs and Kauravs remain at the heart of it, the epic revolves around the conflict of Dharma. In this work of fiction I present to you the human emotions, conversation, thoughts of everyone as they mee...
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Vrikodar Bheem dashed through the woods, leaping over thin winding creaks and the slippery rocks. The mighty warrior dodged and zipped past rotting oak trees and under lowered and snapped branches. Everything blurred into dizzying blend of earthly colours while his feet sped up. The soil underneath was wet and moist under his rough bare heels. He jumped into a muddy brook, evident that the woods witnessed a heavy downpour, soaking up his dhoti upto his ankles. The woods began to widen as Bheem's prodigy steps claimed the grounds and thin layers of fallen pine needles and sentinels disguised the perilous and rocky terrain.
The son of Vayu had an effect around, the grove of Indralok shook feigning terror as drops of dormant rain trickled along the veins of the leaves; identical to the sweat adorning the brown forehead of Bheem seeming like a melted jewel. In contrast with the droplets of tiredness in his face, his heart beat with anything but tiredness.
Bheem loved the chase always; the drumings of his feet with the ground and the surface of earth shaking with his physical might. Contrary to people's belief that he was strong but not agile, was utterly foolish. How can he be slow? The feverish trainings sessions along with his brother and the God, Mahabali Hanuman during their Vanvaas made sure of his swift run.
Bheem propped himself up to sit in a slanted tree branch and somersaulted with his bulky arms to align himself with tree trunk with his legs dangling sideways. Vrikodar breathe in every way that it is possible to expand: in lungs, in brain in soul. He felt his ribcage inflate with the onrush of scenery — air, mountain, trees, humming bees, prancing rabbits, and his own remote memories. The memories which intricated the delicate fabrics of his being, his childhood. Bheem's, and his brother's gold gidded days where they used to sprint the nearby woods of the Shatashringa mountains.
Arjun, who was still an amateur archer flinging his arrows in the misty air of the small forest clearing because Pandu was still skeptical he might take someone's eye out. Bheem giggled at the thought. Nakul who was ardent to learn about the ant colonies that dwell under a chunky Banyan tree, but ended up chasing a random dog. Bheem biting on a apple with Sahadev, who galloped and hummed while circling Bheem's wrist with his fingers. Yudhishthir, well he didn't do anything except having a bored expression and drawing circles in the sand while guarding all of the children. This exchange lined the regular days for the Pandavs and their personal workplace, their atelier.
Until the harsh came crashing in. When the cruel cycle of life dared to snatched away his father's breathe, all of the family was bruised.
"This is what it is to be finally happy" Bheem murmured to himself and the fringes of tea branches that tickled his toes. "Nostalgia whirled with realistic atmosphere, why does it feel if I may have a chance to experience those days all over again?"
