#bheema

[friend-shaped-but]

[hum-suffer]

It's A Farce

It's a farce, Sahdev thinks, as Yuddhishthir smiles at him and tells him that he's fine, it's not a big deal. The wound on his eldest brother's bicep bleeds and curls, and for a moment all Sahdev can think is: I did this. I asked him to accompany me. I should have seen that uneven field. How could I let any animal near my brother? The skin on the inside of his mouth turns red as he keeps biting it, and Yuddhishthir laughs, throwing an arm around Sahdev and the curve of his elbow matches the curve of his wound.

It's a farce, Sahdev thinks, as Bheem tells him about a grey coloured flower, about how it's the nature of the flower and not Sahdev's neglect of the tree and he feels the ache of a lifetime rush in his eyes as he stares at a flower, dead and cold, because he forgot to give it to Mata. Bheem puts the dead flower in his hair with pride, claiming Sahdev as a new botanist, and Sahdev swears that he will make something that will have Bheem's name echoed through the world, name a flower after him.

It's a farce, Sahdev thinks, as Arjun holds him close and tells him tales untrue about their father. Neither of the boys remember his voice, and Arjun holds him all the time when he realises that Sahdev doesn't even know that he has a maternal uncle— he barely remembers how his mother sounded like. Arjun tells him long tales, laughable pranks, and tales of victories. Sahdev falls asleep in his arms, and as his eyes close, he feels a tear that isn't his, rolling down his cheek.

It's a farce, Sahdev thinks, as Nakul pretends that he isn't hungry anymore and fights with Mata about eating the same sweet fruits and pushes all of his fruits in Sahdev's direction and stomps off to find some other fruits for himself. Sahdev waits for him, even as everyone else falls asleep, and even if he can't see that well in the dark of the night, he knows there are no residual fruit juices on Nakul's fingers. Sahdev sneakily wipes his dirty hands before Nakul can see and feeds his brother the fruits that he collected, even when Nakul says he's full. Nakul eats all of the fruits, even the too ripe ones, with a crooked proud smile.

It's a farce, Sahdev thinks, as Mata tells them they'll be safe with their cousins in the royal family. Cousin Suyodhan seems to take it as a personal insult whenever Sahdev and his brothers are more comfortable in their asharam, their years of experience in forest comes handy and Sahdev feels eyes burning into his hands as he starts a fire for the food. Sahdev burns his fingers that day, and Sushasan says he's sorry for accidentally bumping into Sahdev.

It's a farce, Sahdev thinks, as Mama Shakuni tells them about their stay in a palace built especially for them, which doesn't require fire to be illuminated because there are mirrors all over the palace that reflect the moonlight. The palace is drenched in silver light, and Sahdev takes a deep breath as he appreciates the beauty of it and it is then that he smells the wax and turns around, just in time to see Yuddhishthir's hand almost slip from the wall he is leaning on.

It's a farce, Sahdev thinks, as Vasudev tells them that they may go home and live a happy life after being married to Krishnaa. She doesn't talk to anyone for days on end, but he sometimes catches her whimpering in the night, and he can't help but run a hand down her hair when she pretends to sleep on the hay. It's his first time comforting someone, and his hand is trembling and unsteady, he worries it'll be too heavy to rest on her head and hovers awkwardly. Her eyes don't open until morning, but the next night onwards, she sleeps beside him and doesn't open her eyes until dawn.

It's a farce, Sahdev thinks, as their land is divided and everyone seems so pained but no one will say anything to cousin Duryodhan and uncle Dhritrashtra and Sahdev feels the burn marks on his fingers go tighter and Mata knows him too well because she sends him a look and he keeps his words in his throat, burning again.

It's a farce, Sahdev thinks, as they receive an invitation. It's a farce. It's a farce. It's a farce. It's a farce.

No one looks at him to ask what is wrong as he kneels and chokes on air that night in his room. There's no arm around his shoulders, no flower in his hands, no stories in his ears, no fingers that pinch his cheeks, no comforting presence beside him, and no wise words.

It's a farce, Sahdev thinks, as he sees his own nephew burn in a pyre. He wishes he was burning instead. Fire kissed, the heirs of Pandu. Scorched. Yuddhishthir's burnt hands, Bheem's burning eyes, Arjun's scorching words, Nakul's furious sword, Sahdev's burnt fingers and— Abhimanyu's burnt body.

It's a farce, Sahdev thinks, as he kneels and holds his sosn to his chest, telling them that the war will end soon and they'll go home and it will all be fine and they're doing the right thing. He presses kisses to his sons and nephews, telling them all that they just need to pass this time, it's a whirlpool of death and they just need to hold steady and it'll all be fine.

It's a farce. It's a farce. It's a farce. It's a farce. It's a farce. It's a farce. It's a farce.

The day his children die, Sahdev uses his dagger to scrape off two birthmarks that he had passed onto his sons. Shrutsena, his wise child, had a dark blotch of a birthmark that Sahdev had passed on. Shrutsena wore it with pride on his neck and Sahdev scrapes off his own birthmark that rests on his clavicle. Suhotra had an almost half moon shaped birthmark passed onto him, he touched it whenever he was angry. The skin around his mark on his elbow was always red, just because of his temperament and the consequential habit. Sahdev scrapes off the same mark from his left calf.

The blood feels like a farce.

Does blood really matter, these days?

[incorrectmahabharatquotes]

Duryodhan: How do you just eat when there's a dead guy laying there?

Bheem: What, is that rude? Am I supposed to share?

[jabbering-on-jaya]

Bheem: God, give me patience.

Duryodhan: I think you mean 'give me strength'.

Bheem: If God gave me any more strength, you'd be dead.

[misscalming]

[h0bg0blin-meat]

Duryodhan: Get on my level!

Bheem: Unfortunately, to "get on your level" I'd need a boat trip to the Mariana Trench and a pair of cinderblock shoes.

[blackknight-100]

MAHABHARAT THEATER!AU FIC

Chapter 7 is up!

Excerpt:

[Arjuna] catches up to Karna at the landing and together, they make their way down the hallway. The smoke is somehow worse this time around, and every step feels like the last. There’s no sniping – neither of them have the breath to spare, but they keep throwing dirty glances at each other. The fire, instead of dying down, has grown even bigger, and little flakes of ash and wood float about in the air.  Karna peers into one of the rooms on the left, and Arjuna hears him wince. The door has collapsed, and a bar of wood burns diagonally across, making it impossible to get inside. Arjuna pokes his head behind Karna’s shoulder, waits for his stinging eyes to adjust. Through the pall of smoke, he makes out a prone figure sprawled on the ground, clad in white.

[meerability]

Today I bring Bheema and Draupadi. Tommorow, who knows?

[krishna-premi]

how i imagine draupadi's relationship was with her husbands

Draupadi Yudhishthir: They both would spend hours reading together. Draupadi was a curious soul and Yudhisthir was more than happy to suggest and talk about books with his beloved wife. They both would spend time next to each other in a comfortable, peaceful silence. They would sometimes meditate together too. Yudhisthir would leave books around her with small letters inside.

Draupadi Bheema: Draupadi quickly realised the easiest way to Bheema's heart was through cooking for him and that's what she did. Bheema would help her cook a lot. Bheema would often bring fruits and leave them around her as gifts. Bheema would always be around to protect her no matter what. I also believe Draupadi caressed his cheeks a lot idk why I think that but I do.

Draupadi Arjuna: We all know she was in love with him the most. She would sneak glances at him from time to time. Arjuna too looked at her when she wasn't looking. He would accompany her to the temple a lot and would put gajra in her hair. Because he was a shy soul he found it difficult to hold a conversation but you would always find them glancing when the other isn't looking and giving each small smiles across the room.

Draupadi Nakula: They both talked only sometimes, small conversations, little pranams when they saw each other. Nakula would sometimes trach her basic medicines and herbs too. One thing they did was take a stroll in the garden together. They would walk next to each other but still having distance in between and would admire the flowers around them. Nakula too would bring her gajras but he was too shy to pin them in her hair so he would just keep it next to her hoping she'd understand.

Draupadi Sahadev: Being the youngest among the five brothers, Sahadev got the most love by his brothers but also a lot of trying to be as good as them. He would joke around Draupadi a lot and they had a playful relationship with each other. Draupadi laughed most openly around Sahadev and he cherished these private moments of happiness with his wife. Draupadi would also help Sahadev to be more confident as he often felt that he lacked strength and skills as compared to his brothers.

This is my personal interpretation of their relationships. I feel like sometimes they would all hangout together and all five of them would being gifts for Draupadi. Idk this is so fulfilling to me.

[shadowqueenjude]

“Eight years ago, he amassed our wealth on three ships to sail to Bharat for invaluable spices and cloth.” The naga were sprung from a nightmare. Covered in dark scales and nothing more, they were a horrendous combination of serpentine features and male humanoid bodies whose powerful arms ended in polished black, flesh-shredding talons.

People like pointing out stuff by SJM which was inspired by other stories so here's mine: Bharat is another name for India, and India is the king of spices and cloth, so that's obviously the inspiration here. Two, the naga are inspired by creatures in Hindu-lore. In the story of the Mahabharata, the Naga are snake people who live beneath the human world. One of the main characters in that story, Bheema, encounters the Naga who nearly kill him but then end up gifting him with the strength of thousands of elephants (long story). Clearly not original either, Sarah.

[musingsonthemahabharata]

check out this stunning futuristic Mahābhārata art by Vamchi Vams!

the tendency with modern Mbh-inspired artwork is for it to still adhere to 'traditional' / historic conventions and for these to be seen as more 'accurate' renderings, but, especially with the war books (parvas), i'd maintain that one needs only to skim-read to see that the futuristic artwork most likely is a more 'accurate' representation of how the war is said to be fought. it would not be an exaggeration to claim that the astras (supranatural weapons imbued with mantras) used by warriors such as Arjuna, Karṇa & Aśvatthāmā functioned like nuclear weapons. i personally adore futuristic Mbh artwork because in my opinion it enlivens the epic & grounds it in our present as a timeless dynamic work and not as an ancient lifeless poem.

i do wonder if it is the inescapable archaic tone of 99% of the Mbh translations from sanskrit (which my dear friend Avi Sato pointed to me once & now i can't unsee!) that which contributes to this overall impression that traditional renditions * must * be more accurate. perhaps. i for one would love to see a truly futuristic translation and interpretation of the Mbh (both in literature & in film / TV) that also follows the narrative thread faithfully. might take it upon myself.

[friend-shaped-but]

[hum-suffer]

Headcanons on Niramitra please? (Mahabharata)

(I had to search the name because i forgot who he is lol)

Niramitra literally befriends anyone. From a serving maid to a squirrel. Nakul finds this endlessly amusing, but Karenumati is tired of finding feathers on her son's bedroom floor

He wears a nose ring. It irritated his skin when he first got it pierced and he threw a monumental tantrum, but now he has a collection of nose rings.

His first word, to everyone's confusion, was "cow!"

He wears too much white, Nakul mourns that his son has no taste.

Bheem taught him how to break locks. He uses the technique to prank Shrutkarma.

He has the same curls as Arjun and Arjun claims that Niramitra will one day surpass all his family in looks.

He has a deep scar on his shoulder from when he was practicing horse riding. He uses that excuse to get out of mace training.

Though, to be truthful, the scar actually hurts him worse in lower temperatures. He will choke before he admits it, though.

He loves embroidery. He has his parents' names embroidered in a ridiculously bright green thread on a blue cloth and gifted that to his parents on their wedding anniversary. Nakul and Karenumati started wearing more green and blue shades for the week.

He loves sweets. You will find him on a sugar high once almost every two days.

He has his mother's slender figure and it's very easy to mistake him for Karenumati if you only see the back of his head or his silhouette.

Nakul often steals his wrist bands. He pretends he hates the stealing but definitely leaves the best of his collection out in the open deliberately— where he can find them.

Yudhisthir was pleasantly surprised over how much of a menace Niramitra can be. More often than not, the two can be seen together, with Yudhishthir bribing Niramitra to play pranks on his brothers and extract revenge for any teasing remarks made by his brothers on him. Arjun and Bheem suddenly find their wardrobe rearranged. Sahadev has all his white clothes dyed yellow. Nakul's food tastes of mint everyday for a week, no matter when or how or where he eats.

He has too much energy and sometimes can't sleep at night because of this. Has huge, huge, eyebags and dark circles.

Draupadi oils his hair every week. He tells her all the gossip he has on his uncles and father.

The servants tell him all the gossip about all the lords.

This makes him a surprisingly good manipulator, in case needed.

Yudhisthir loves to have him in court.

[heyifinallyhaveablog]

The Defeated

So-

I've been away for the longest time, and well, so far, it seems as if it has been ages since I'd written something here, and @demonkidpliz 's writing kind of prompted me to throw it out here. Not that anyone asked for it.

Goodness, it has been so SO LONG! Just tagging people here for a slight knock. I just, love you all so so much, that I'll probably find my way in here eventually! :D

@demonkidpliz @vidhurvrika @bleedinknight @chaanv @alwaysthesideofwonder @raat-jaaga-paakhi @carminavulcana @pratigyakrishnaki @phandomoftheowl @kalpansh

And anyone else here. Heaven knows I've forgotten such a lot.

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Fandom: Mahabharat/StarPlus Mahabharat

Pairings: Bheema/Draupadi

Warnings: Mentions of War | PTSD | Trauma | Bloodshed

Summary: The Second Pandava deals with ghosts of the War. Alone.

Disclaimer: This is entirely a work of fiction, based on an idea I had while reading C. Rajagopalachari's version of the Mahabharata. But I do have to say this, this has a lot to offer that is different from the Mahabharata that is actually popular. I just hope that this resonates with the readers, and you read this, and find this worth your time and your feedback. Please leave a short comment or a like, whatever you may deem fit. And as always!

THANK YOU!

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Chapter 1:

The Shadows:

“My Lord,” an earnest call beckoned to him in the midst of a dimly-lit Kridangan. The voice doesn’t serve as an intrusion or an offence, since, his pursuit of the arena is more habitual than practical these days. Yet, a phantom lightness in his being bids him to ignore it.

“He might not have heard us, Mother,” another voice caresses his ear, this time from a boy, probably no older than Abhiman-

Vrikodara closes his eyes, in a desparate attempt to stop himself from recalling the name. 

The resignation in the older woman’s conduct seems to register with him.

“Pardon me, Mother,” he says, hoping they had heard him before they left.

Hoping it would stop them.

—----

“I have no use for sparrers, Mother,” he says, much to the chagrin of the widow who had brought her son along for employment in the Palace of the Kurus. The boy’s Father, he was told, was a soldier in the cavalry of Hastinapura. 

“If My Prince may spare us some consideration,” the lady kept her eyes lowered, much to Bhimasena’s relief, “my late husband, once served as a sparrer for the princes and kings in the castle, as did his father before that,”

“The Younger Queen Mother, was kind enough to refer us to you, My Lord,” she continued, breaking the Second Pandava with every word she spoke.

“Mother,” Bheema managed to speak, “I shall be obliged, if you would be kind enough to speak to The Queen,” he turned his eyes towards the boy, “I’m certain, he shall find employment elsewhere herein,”

He left, with folded hands, and his gaze lowered, before the knot in his chest tightened further.

—----

He had bid the lights to remain extinguished in their chamber. His senses do not let him recall the times when he wanted his chamber to be lit brilliantly as day after the evening prayers. 

Another breath mingles with his, just as familiar to him as his own, just as forlorn to him as his own. He affords himself a momentary reprieve of letting his exhalations synchronise with hers. Her shapely silhouette offers him with some semblance of solace. It behooved him to receive her sobriety. After all, he had always known her to receive his thoughts even before they could make their way to his lips.

—----

“There has been no correspondence from Ekachakra, yet again,” she almost whispers.

Bheema’s hands clasp the edge of the bed, brushing close to that of his wife for that year.

Panchaali lets her right hand rest on his left, hoping to partake her husband’s discomfort. Yet, she doubted if an iota of his grief had been assuaged by any measure.

“Hidimba,” Bheema breathes the name, akin to a prayer, as if expecting his firstborn to walk in through the doors, smiling warmly from ear to ear, unscathed, unblemished, probably an older likeness of the boy he had seen earlier today.

“She’s meteing a punishment that befits the sin I have accrued, it seems,” Panchaali’s breath cuts through the air with its characteristic lotus fragrance. She doesn’t strain a tear either.

Crying would make it easier, she chides herself. 

Crying would lessen my penance, her resolve affirms.

“Hidimba has never been unfair, Panchaali,” he tells her impassively, as she feels the tremor in his voice. 

Another confabulation of silences followed.

[tulunadu1909]

Hanuman and Bheems first encounter

[boxeboxer]

BHEEMA B1-ICQ

Origin: krtrim (asatya)

Status: posthuman, piloting a Class-3 military 2029 CHOSHI-II vessel (modern Delhi variant) distributed by OURO

Nationality/ethnicity: American, living in Britain. IRIDESCENT color ID

Age: 30KR (actual age is 23KR)

Occupation: assistant head of security for the New Disciples of Mesmer

About:

Bheema is a repossessed krtrim Essence given fabricated memories (known as an asatya). Though she is actually only 23KR, she is mentally 30KR. She has no last name.

Bheema was deployed by the American military during the Tangent War. After the trauma of seeing her close teammates die, she realized her memories were not actually true, and developed ROMAD (rapid-onset magnetic actuator deviancy) or as it’s more commonly known, Corruption. This brought her close to death, but she managed to be one of the lucky few who survive, though at the cost of her personality and morals. She was shortly thereafter bought by Cassandra Mallory to be her personal body guard.

Bheema is cold and emotionally stunted. She views herself as a machine. She’s a stickler to the rules and always follows orders. However, she still shows elements of character through her sarcasm and cruel sense of humor. Her and Francis get along very well for this reason.

Background:

Bheema cannot remember much, if any of her past, nor does she consider it significant. Her condition as an asatya compounds this issue.