Bhima - Blog Posts
Tears of a Rapper (Hurt Feelings) i struggled so much and I'm too crying tears of a rapper
The Sword
It had started, oddly enough, with failure.
Arjuna-yes, that Arjuna- had all but dropped his sword in the first lesson. Not misplaced. Not handed it over politely. Dropped it. Right in front of Acharya Drona.
The sword clattered like a gong struck too hard, bouncing once on the sun-baked stones and landing neatly at Drona’s feet. Arjuna winced. He was eleven. Mortified.
Drona hadn’t moved. He stared at the boy, eyes unreadable.
Arjuna, cheeks flaming, bent to retrieve it.
“Pick it up again,” Drona said, voice as smooth as dry flint. “Try again.”
No sighs. No comfort. No dismissal.
Just a command from his Acharya and Arjuna bowed his head and obeyed.
The bow had come naturally; it felt like it belonged to him before he ever touched it. But the sword? The sword was different. Intimate. Rebellious. Too close. It demanded something else from him…
Grit?? Grit he hadn’t yet named, but would come to know well. So, he decided to conquer it.
Not out of spite. Not even out of ambition.
He just didn’t like the feeling of losing.
By the end of the week, he’d snapped five wooden swords in half. The servants started hiding the practice ones. By the end of the month, Drona had stopped offering encouragement and simply begun showing up- arms crossed, silent, watching.
In the evenings, when the other princes wandered off to dinner or drowsy afternoons, Arjuna stayed back, panting in the dust, swinging again and again. Sand stuck to his elbows. Sweat soaked through his kurta. He never complained.
“Faster,” Drona would say.
So, Arjuna would try. Bleeding palms, shaking legs- he would try.
He was small, still growing into his limbs, quiet in ways that unnerved even Bhima. But when he moved- when he moved- it was like memory. Not the clumsy rhythm of boys mimicking heroes, but something older. Something remembered in the bones.
Drona saw it early, before the others did.
Before Bhima laughed at Arjuna’s scowl when he lost footing. Before Yudhishthira began smiling after each of Arjuna’s lessons. Before Karna appeared, brilliant and burning, to challenge everything they thought they knew.
Arjuna learned to parry by candlelight. Practiced forms in his dreams. Drona once caught him miming strikes against his own shadow, alone beneath the stars.
He trained with Bhima’s heavier sword, tied sandbags to his wrists, swung through rain until his arms trembled.
Once, when Drona caught him practicing by moonlight, the torchlight casting shadows like dancing ghosts, he asked dryly, “Why are you still up?”
Arjuna didn’t stop, “Because I still don’t like how it feels in my hands.” He paused, flashed a grin. “But soon I will.”
Drona didn’t smile often. But that night, he very nearly did.
-----------------------------------------------
Nakula was spying again.
He would call it “observing,” of course. For educational purposes. Strategic even. Definitely not “lurking under the shade of a pomegranate tree while your overly talented brother glowed like a demigod in motion.”
Arjuna was in the courtyard, training... Like always… Sword in hand, light on his feet, moving with that fluid, maddening grace of his. There was no other word for it. He made swordplay look charming.
It was the worst. Nakula sighed dramatically and plucked a guava from a nearby branch.
He didn’t hate how good Arjuna was- no one did. You couldn’t. It was like hating the sun for rising. But sometimes, just sometimes, Nakula wanted to throw a sandal at him. Lovingly. Supportively. A sandal full of affection.
He watched as Arjuna spun, then halted in a perfect guard position.
Perfect, of course.
“Show-off,” Nakula muttered fondly around a bite of guava. Arjuna looked up. “Nakula,” he called, without turning. “I can feel your glare from here.”
“Wasn’t glaring,” Nakula said, hopping off the low wall. “I was admiring. Huge difference.”
Arjuna wiped sweat from his brow with his sleeve. “You’re always admiring me these days. Should I be concerned?”
“Only if it goes to your head,” Nakula quipped, strolling over. “Which it already has. In fact, your head’s so swollen, I’m amazed it doesn’t throw off your balance mid-spin.”
Arjuna grinned. “Careful, or I’ll make you spar with me.”
“Threats. How loving.” But Nakula held out his hand, and Arjuna, without hesitation, passed him the sword. Nakula staggered under the weight.
“Are you training with Bhima’s sword again?”
“I like the resistance,” Arjuna said casually. “Helps with wrist strength.”
“You need help?” Nakula asked sweetly. “After only four hours of training this morning?”
Arjuna rolled his eyes but smiled. “You wouldn’t understand. You were napping through most of it.”
“I was conserving energy. In case I needed to, I don’t know- rescue you from a particularly dramatic hair-related duel.”
“Once,” Arjuna groaned. “You bring it up once, and it haunts me for years.”
Nakula snickered, then shifted into a stance; feet shoulder-width apart, blade angled down. Not perfect. Not terrible either.
Arjuna stepped behind him and adjusted his shoulders. “You’ve been practicing.”
Nakula didn’t look at him. “A bit.”
“You could ask me to teach you.”
“I didn’t want to bother you,” Nakula mumbled. “You already train enough.” Arjuna blinked. “Bother me? Nakula, I taught a monkey to climb trees last week because you told me it looked sad.”
Nakula snorted. “You didn’t!”
“I did. You know I did!” Nakula turned, grinning. “Alright, fine. Teach me, O great monkey-whisperer.”
Arjuna mock-bowed. “With pleasure.”
They trained until the sun dipped low. Arjuna taught patiently, correcting with humor. Nakula asked questions. Snuck in jokes. Got whacked once with the flat of the blade for laughing too hard when Arjuna stumbled over a rock.
And through it all, Nakula felt something bubble in his chest, warmth. Not jealousy. Not even the need to compete.
Just the simple, honest desire to be good enough to stand beside his brother.
Not behind him. Beside him.
So that someday, on some battlefield or in some moment that mattered, Arjuna might look at him and nod, not because he had to, but because he meant it. Because Nakula had earned it.
At last, Arjuna clapped a hand on his shoulder. “You’re improving fast.”
“I’m charming,” Nakula said. “And secretly brilliant.”
Arjuna grinned. “Not so secret anymore.”
They stood together in the golden dusk, laughter fading into quiet. The sword felt lighter in Nakula’s grip now. Nakula raised the sword again, testing a stance. Arjuna adjusted his footwork without a word, smiling.
And just for a moment, Nakula imagined them side by side on a real battlefield someday; not as brothers trailing behind legends, but as legends together.
That would be enough. That would be everything.
The Archer Remade: The Parting- Sneak peek
“You gambled us away,” Bhima had roared days ago, chest heaving, eyes blazing with something Arjuna had never seen in him before- betrayal. “You gambled her. You gambled me, Jyestha. Say the word and I’ll thrust this hand into the fire. Let it burn. The same hand with which you wagered everything without asking!”
Yudhishthira had not flinched.
“Do it, Bhima. If that will bring her peace.”
It was not defiance. It was surrender.
But Bhima’s fury had collapsed into grief. He had stood, trembling, knuckles white with restraint. Then he turned and walked out into the night.
I'm writing a new story! Yayyy!!! The draft is finally complete!!! A peek to the first chapter :)
Udderance- Mahabharat crack fic Series Part VI
It was a calm evening in Indraprastha. Golden light spilled across the stone floors as the five brothers gathered in the courtyard, taking a rare break from war councils and weapons training.
Yudhishthira had decided it was the perfect moment to read aloud a philosophical letter from a wise sage, because of course he had.
Bhima was lying on his back with a fig in his mouth, with Nakula braiding his hair without trying to hide how bored he looked. Arjuna leaned on one elbow, absently toying with a piece of grass, and Sahadeva sat upright like a curious owl.
Yudhishthira cleared his throat with great ceremony. “The sage writes: ‘Speech, dear sons, is the true mirror of the soul. One should always weigh each udderance with care—’”
A beat of silence.
Arjuna slowly tilted his head. “…Udderance?”
Bhima sat up very straight. “UDDERANCE?” Nakula’s voice cracked.
Yudhishthira blinked, frowning at the scroll. “Yes. Udderance. The sage writes-”
Sahadeva had his hand over his mouth, already trembling. Arjuna squinted at the scroll. “Bhrata I think the sage meant utterance.”
“Udderance is… much so cow related, I though, even I don’t know if such words really exist” Sahadeva offered helpfully.
Bhima choked. “He’s asking us to weigh our cow-speech with care?”
Nakula fell over. “We must milk our wisdom before speaking, brothers-!”
Yudhishthira’s face had gone scarlet. “That’s not what I- Clearly a mistake on my-”
Bhima doubled over, wheezing. “The next time you give a speech, shall I bring a bucket, O Noble Cow-King?”
Even Arjuna, trying very hard to be respectful, was shaking. “We must moo with meaning, not mutter mindlessly.”
Nakula, barely breathing: “You udderly misread that scroll.”
Yudhishthira dropped the letter and covered his face with both hands. “I’m going to disown all four of you.”
Bhima collapsed sideways into Nakula, giggling like a boy again. “Moo-st you, brother? Moo-st you?”
“Stop it,” Yudhishthira groaned. “Stop right now.”
But no one did. Not even Draupadi, when she passed by moments later and asked what was going on.
And that night, someone (Sahadeva) secretly added a small cow doodle to Yudhishthira’s ceremonial speech scroll.
He noticed it two days later and said nothing.
But he knew.
Bhima and his mighty arms- Mahabharat crack fic Series Part II
The first thud was loud enough to make Arjuna pause mid-sentence. The second thud had Nakula looking up from his polished sword. The third thud made Sahadeva slowly, carefully, close the scroll he was reading. The fourth thud- accompanied by the ominous clinking of golden rings being stripped off thick fingers- had all three of them turning toward the source. Bhima. He was smiling. That was a problem. "You know," Bhima said pleasantly, as he slipped off his armlets and tossed them onto the growing pile of discarded ornaments. "I usually let things go." No, he did not. "I mean, I am a reasonable person." He unfastened his necklace, an impressive piece of gold that clattered onto the table. "Patient, even." Yudhishthira, who had been pretending not to be involved in this mess, shut his eyes. He knew where this was going. He had long accepted that he was doomed to suffer through his younger brothers' antics for as long as he lived. "Bhima," he tried, rubbing his temples, "please." Bhima ignored him. He held up a single finger, dangerously cheerful, as he removed his last ring and set it down with a delicate tap. Then, very deliberately, he cracked his knuckles. "Which one of you," he said, still smiling, "said I wouldn’t be able to carry all three of you at once anymore?" There was silence. Then... "It was Nakula," Arjuna said immediately, shifting slightly behind Sahadeva. "Excuse me?" Nakula turned, scandalized. "It was not! It was you, Bhrata Arjun!" Sahadeva, ever the diplomat, cleared his throat. "It was actually both of you. And technically, I believe I agreed." "Traitor," Nakula hissed. Bhima exhaled through his nose, looking far too delighted for anyone’s comfort. "So that’s how it is, huh?" A beat. Then three things happened at once: Arjuna bolted. Nakula lunged for the door. Sahadeva tried to take the high road and stay put, but immediately regretted it when Bhima lunged. Somewhere in the chaos, Arjuna yelled, "HE CAN STILL DO IT! HE CAN STILL DO IT!" as Bhima caught all three of them in an unbreakable grip. Nakula screeched in outrage, Sahadeva resigned himself to his fate, and Yudhishthira pressed his forehead to the table, done with all of them. And across the room-lounging on a divan, eating grapes: Krishna was laughing so hard he almost fell over. "Oh, this is delightful," Krishna wheezed, wiping at his eyes. "Do it again, Bhima, I wasn't watching properly the first time." Bhima did do it again. Just for Krishna. By the end of it, all three younger brothers were thrown onto a pile of cushions, Bhima stood victorious, and Yudhishthira wondered, not for the first time, why he had been born the eldest. Krishna, still grinning, leaned toward Yudhishthira and whispered, "At least they are affectionate." Yudhishthira stared blankly at him. Then, with the last shred of dignity he had, he got up and left the room. He needed a break. Perhaps a lifetime-long one.
Later that evening, after the chaos had settled and Yudhishthira had successfully escaped the madness (for now), Arjuna, Nakula, and Sahadeva sat nursing their bruised egos and sore limbs.
Bhima, still smug, was polishing off the last of his sweets while Krishna watched with open amusement.
Nakula, who had finally tamed his hair again, crossed his arms. "I still want to know who told Bhima about this in the first place."
Arjuna frowned, rubbing his shoulder. "Yeah, I mean… we said that days ago. When did he find out?"
There was silence as the three of them thought back. Then, slowly, all eyes turned to Krishna.
Krishna smiled.
"You didn’t," Arjuna groaned.
Krishna popped a grape into his mouth. "I may have."
Sahadeva blinked. "Why?"
"Because it was funny," Krishna admitted, with absolutely no shame. "You three, gossiping like little parrots, questioning Bhima’s strength? How could I not tell him?"
Bhima laughed, slapping his knee. "See? Even Krishna agrees! I had to remind you all who the strongest is!"
Nakula gaped at him. "You threw us across the room!"
"And yet," Bhima grinned, "I could have thrown you further."
Arjuna slumped back dramatically. "We are doomed. We have been betrayed."
Sahadeva, ever practical, exhaled. "To be fair, we did doubt him."
Krishna pointed at him. "See? At least one of you has some wisdom."
Bhima patted Sahadeva on the head. "Good little brother. You, I like."
Sahadeva swatted his hand away. "You like throwing me into furniture!"
"That too."
Arjuna leaned toward Krishna. "You are the problem," he accused.
Krishna rested his chin on his hand, eyes twinkling. "Oh, Parth, my dear, my dearest, I am always the problem. You should know this by now."
Arjuna groaned again and let himself fall back onto the cushions.