The days in Hastinapur passed, but peace was always walking a tightrope.
With the Pandavas and Kauravas growing older, so did their pride. Small disagreements turned into loud arguments. Friendly games turned into fierce battles. And no one fought more than Bheem and Duryodhan.
---
Bheem vs Kauravs: Round One
One afternoon, a game of ball turned into chaos. Dushasan claimed Bheem had crossed the line while scoring.
"I didn't!" Bheem shouted.
"You cheated!" Dushasan growled.
Before anyone could blink, Bheem grabbed Dushasan by the waist and swung him around like a sack of flour.
Thud!
Dushasan landed in a pile of hay.
A few other Kauravs jumped in, trying to hold Bheem back. Big mistake.
Bheem lifted one with each hand and bumped their heads together.
"Owww!"
That's when Duryodhan stepped in, chest puffed, fists clenched.
"Enough!" he shouted. "Let go of my brothers!"
"You want some too?" Bheem smirked.
They clashed. Dust flew. Arms wrestled. Even the birds stopped chirping.
It ended with both boys being dragged away by their caretakers while still kicking at the air.
Everyone knew this rivalry wasn't ending anytime soon.
---
A Dark Plan is Born
Shakuni, watching from a distance, clenched his fists.
"This Bheem is a threat," he muttered. "Too strong, too wild... we need to get rid of him."
He whispered his plan to Duryodhan that night.
"We'll pretend to patch things up," he said, "and invite Bheem to a feast. I'll give you a poison—slow, strong, and deadly. Mix it in his kheer."
Duryodhan hesitated. "Are you sure?"
"If you want the throne," Shakuni said coldly, "this is the first step."
---
The Feast of Betrayal
The next day, Duryodhan walked up to Bheem with a smile.
"Let's forget yesterday," he said. "Come, I've prepared a special kheer for you. No fights, just sweets."
Bheem, big-hearted and always ready for food, grinned.
"Kheer? I forgive you!"
They sat by the riverbank, and Duryodhan served him a large bowl of sweet, creamy kheer—with poison carefully mixed in.
Bheem licked the bowl clean.
"Delicious!" he said.
But soon, his vision blurred. His limbs turned heavy.
"What... is... happening..." he mumbled before collapsing.
Panicked but determined, Duryodhan and Dushasan dragged his body to the edge of the river and threw him in.
"He's gone," Duryodhan whispered.
They stood there, staring at the calm waters, believing their plan had worked.
---
The Nagas' Secret Realm
But fate had other plans.
Bheem's unconscious body was carried by the current far down the river, deep into the caves beneath the mountains—the land of the Nagas.
There, the serpents hissed and circled. But before they could strike, one of them recognized him.
"This boy... he carries the mark of our own," said the chief of the Nagas, Vasuki.
Vasuki was no ordinary Naga. He had once helped the gods during the churning of the ocean, and his bloodline was tied to great sages and warriors. He looked closely at Bheem and said:
"He is born of Kunti... and Kunti is descended from our line. He is family."
Because of Kunti's ancestral ties to the Nagas, Bheem was seen as a descendant. Vasuki declared, "He is one of us. He must not die."
They carried Bheem to their palace and poured drops of a secret nectar into his mouth.
A nectar that multiplied a man's strength eight times.
That's right. EIGHT times.
But it wasn't easy to digest.
Bheem slipped into a deep sleep—for three full days.
The Nagas waited, guarding him with care.
---
Funeral at the Palace
Back in Hastinapur, panic had broken out.
"Bheem is missing!" Kunti cried.
The palace searched the rivers, the forests, the roads.
Nothing.
Everyone feared the worst.
After two days, Bhishma sadly declared a memorial for Bheem.
Tears flowed.
Even Duryodhan and Dushasan faked their sadness well.
Until...
---
The Return of Bheem
On the morning of the fourth day, a loud cheer echoed across the palace gates.
"BHEEM!" someone shouted.
He stood there, taller than before, muscles bulging, eyes sharp.
Everyone froze.
Arjun ran and hugged him. "You're alive!"
"Of course," Bheem grinned. "Just took a long nap."
Kunti wept. Nakul and Sahdev tackled him with joy.
Only Yudhishthir looked at him carefully.
"You're stronger," he whispered.
Bheem smiled. "Let's just say... I had help."
The Kauravs turned pale. Shakuni clenched his jaw.
"Impossible," he hissed.
But Bheem just smiled and flexed.
As the crowd gathered around the returned Bheem, Bhishma stepped forward, his face stern but filled with concern.
"Where have you been, child?" he asked, his voice deep and steady. "What happened to you?"
Bheem's smile faded.
His jaw tightened. His fists clenched.
And then—he spoke.
"I was poisoned," he said, loud and clear, so that every person within earshot could hear. "I was betrayed. Duryodhan and Dushasan offered me kheer as a gesture of peace… but they had laced it with poison."
Gasps spread across the courtyard.
Bheem continued, his voice rising with emotion, "After I lost consciousness, they dragged me to the river and threw me in—thinking I'd drown and die."
He looked directly at Duryodhan and Dushasan.
"I nearly did. But fate had other plans."
He turned back to Bhishma.
"I was saved by the Nagas—the serpent tribe who live deep beneath the river's flow. Their king… Vasuki… recognized me. He said I carried the blood of his line through my mother, Kunti."
Even Bhishma looked stunned at that.
Bheem nodded. "Yes. Vasuki is my ancestor. He gave me shelter. He gave me life. And then… he offered me a sacred nectar—a drink that multiplied my strength eightfold."
The audience murmured in awe.
"But there was a price," Bheem added. "The power needed time to settle. I slept for three days straight while my body absorbed it."
He finished his story and stood tall, stronger and more intimidating than ever.
Bhishma's eyes narrowed. He turned to Duryodhan, who was trying very hard to act shocked.
"Is this true?" Bhishma asked, his voice icy.
Duryodhan gulped. "I… I don't know what he's talking about—"
"Look at me," Bhishma said sharply.
Duryodhan tried. He failed.
Bhishma didn't need any more proof. He turned to Dushasan.
"And you?" he asked.
Dushasan looked at the ground and said nothing.
Bhishma's fury was quiet but terrifying.
"You tried to murder your own cousin. You dared to commit such a heinous act under this roof, and worse—you thought you could lie to me."
He paused, then gave his sentence.
"For the next three months, both of you will clean the royal stables—twice a day. No servants. No help. Just you, your hands, and the filth you deserve."
Gasps turned into stunned silence.
Duryodhan's face turned red with humiliation.
Dushasan looked ready to cry.
Bheem crossed his arms and smirked.
But Bhishma was not smiling. He was deeply troubled.
And as Duryodhan and Dushasan were dragged away toward the stables, heads hung low, a seed of hatred grew even deeper in their hearts.
A seed that would one day grow into something far more dangerous.
---
Bhishma's Concern
Later that night, Bhishma sat alone in the royal chamber, thinking deeply.
"These boys... they're growing stronger. But also further apart."
He thought of the constant fights.
Of Duryodhan's hatred.
Of Bheem's rising power.
He knew something had to be done before things got worse.
"They need discipline," he muttered. "Guidance. A place to learn and grow together."
A gurukul.
But who would train princes of such power and pride?
He needed someone wise. Someone impartial. Someone who could handle divine children and royal egos.
His mind drifted to two names.
Kripacharya.
Dronacharya.
But he wasn't sure yet.
All he knew was—time was running out.
And the future of Hastinapur depended on what happened next.
---