Chapter 13: Sons of the Forest
Pandu had never worn the crown. When he left the palace behind, there was no throne to miss—only freedom to gain. Though a prince by birth, he found peace in the vast, open wilderness. The forest, with its rustling leaves and wild song, offered something the stone walls of the palace never could: quiet purpose.
One day, a messenger bird arrived, bearing a message from Vidura. Pandu's eyes lit up as he unrolled the letter.
" Dhritarashtra going to become father in 3 months."
His smile was genuine—he was happy for his elder brother, the blind King Dhritarashtra. Yet behind the joy was an ache. Pandu, cursed by the sage Kindama, could not father children without risking death. And now, his brother—who had longed for an heir—was finally going to become a father.
That night, Pandu sat in silence near the fire. His eyes, usually sharp and steady, were distant.
Kunti noticed. "You're thinking of your brother," she said softly.
"I am," he admitted. "I'm happy for him. But it hurts. I want to be a father too."
Kunti took a deep breath. "Then become one."
She told him about the divine mantra granted to her by Sage Durvasa—the power to call upon any god to bear a child.
Pandu stared at her, stunned. "You never told me this before."
"I didn't think the time was right," she replied. "But now, it is."
He stood and grasped her hands tightly. "Then tomorrow, we begin."
---
The First Son – Yudhishthira
At dawn, Pandu stood beside Kunti near a flowing stream. The early sunlight bathed them both in gold. Kunti recited the mantra, her voice calm and precise.
Pandu spoke clearly, "Call upon Yama, the god of justice. Let our first son be born with dharma in his heart."
As the final words echoed through the forest, a warm light descended. The air became heavy with silence. From the light, a child slowly appeared—eyes closed, body calm, and soul serene.
Pandu gently lifted the newborn into his arms, awe in his eyes. "Yudhishthira," he whispered. "One who is steadfast in truth."
The divine voice of Yama echoed faintly, "You must wait three months before invoking the mantra again."
---
The Second Son – Bhima
The forest was livelier now, filled with the soft coos and gentle cries of baby Yudhishthira. Pandu loved carrying him around, teaching him the names of birds, the sounds of trees, and the peace of stillness. Yet, in his heart, he wished for another—one to protect this gentle soul.
"It's time," Pandu told Kunti one day. "We need a protector. Call upon Vayu, the god of wind."
Kunti performed the mantra again, her voice filled with focus and reverence.
The wind rose in a circle around them, spiraling upward. A golden wind swirled and descended, forming the body of a second child.
Even as a newborn, the boy's body was solid, and his small limbs held quiet power. When Pandu picked him up, he was surprised by the weight in his arms.
"Bhima," Pandu declared. "The one who holds immense strength."
Vayu's voice followed, soft and fading. "Wait three more months before you call again."
---
Madri's Watchful Eyes
Madri, Pandu's second wife, had remained supportive through both births. She held and fed the children, playing with them while Kunti rested or performed chores.
She smiled with them, laughed with them. But at night, when she was alone in her tent, her smile faded.
"They are his sons… and hers," she whispered to herself.
She never spoke of it, never complained. But a quiet jealousy grew in her heart—not of the children, but of the bond between Pandu and Kunti. It wasn't resentment, but a longing. She too wanted to be part of that joy, to see Pandu's eyes shine with pride because of her.
Still, she cared for the boys with genuine affection, holding them close and praying silently that someday… she too would have a place in their story.
---
The forest was no longer silent. Two divine children played among the roots and leaves, their laughter echoing through the trees. Pandu sat watching them, his heart full.
They were not born from mortal blood, but they were his sons—and they were only the beginning.