Yudhisthira-- Jaya through his eyes

Golden Days

My earliest memory of my father Pandu was that of his enormous nose, which had blocked my vision of his face as he jubilantly kissed my forehead. (He told me later) that was the day when I first called him " Ba" which had instigated a series of gasps,(fake) faints and an " Aha, I told you Pritha, he loves me more", while an amused Mata Madri held newborn Bheem on her lap. The said Bheem, gurgled viciously; trying to imitate his elder brother's lip movements which caused him to choke on his own spit; causing more laughter and amusement for the trio.

Arjun was born when I turned three. He was quite a drama queen(or king) from the day he was born. As an infant,he liked to be surrounded by people and made quite a tantrum when he was left alone in his crib for some time.But he loved everyone dearly( especially me). His infant days would begin with sucking my thumb until it was sore and end with a loud bellow at night if Maa and Pitashri did not sleep at either side of him. He was truly the apple of my eyes.

The first ten years of my childhood in the Himalayan forests were filled with absolute joy, bliss and pleasure.

Baba used to spend his entire time playing with me and my brothers, dangerously defying our disapproving mothers who wanted us to go to the rishis and earn some divine knowledge from them. Baba spent his mornings teaching us several games which he had learnt during his childhood like chasing, throwing a ball to the farthest distance( what you now know as shortput) and marble game(Kancha) which usually did not appeal to Bheem ;because he yearned to partake in more interesting games like jumping off the cliff, climbing the deodhar trees to the top and rolling over from the tip of a steep mountain. Since he was strictly refused to do so, he formulated his own less harmful game of swinging from one tree to the other; competing with the forest monkeys. That was his idea of joy. He is the same even now. Heaven did not change his tremendously playful nature. But father was extremely strict on our safety. He never let us out of his sight. It seemed as if he had a fear that someone was out looking for his kids; planning to kill them.

On a New Moon day of Bhava Phalguna, high pitched screams woke me up from my slumber. When I located the sound to Mata Madri's hut, I was welcomed by two shrieking new borns; protesting about the disrespectful way they were inhumanely extracted from their deep, cozy cavern of mother's womb. I looked around.Mata Madri was asleep and her face looked immensely tired; the midwife and Maa Kunti were busy washing a twin off his blood and amniotic fluid; Bheem stood behind them, pleading them to let him hold the baby while Arjun crawled on the floor; hunting for a cloth to chew on.

"Won't you hold him Yudishthir?"asked Baba while cradling the older of the two(by a few moments) on his lap.

"He is so tiny. I am afraid I would drop him. Over that, he is screaming so very much." I said ,smiling.

Baba laughed. "You too were no heavier than a pumpkin. But I agree, these two scream exceptionally."

Suddenly, his tone and facial expression transformed from a playful to a serious one; he bent down to my level, looked straight into my eyes and said, "Remember this my child, even if these two were begot by your Mata Madri, they are still your brothers. You will love them just like you love Parth and Bheem."

I was too young to understand the complexities of parentage and bloodline. For me, both Mata Kunti and Mata Madri were my mothers and anyone begot by them were my brothers. So I was unable to understand what Baba was so serious about.

"Yes Baba, I will remember that. But what will you name them?"

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"I do-on't like d-a-a name."protested two and a half year old Bheem.

"Rishi Markendeya has named him Nakul according to his personality. Now if you don't like it you have the liberty to call him anything personally,dear."reasoned Maa Kunti