---

4. Tikkana

Thirteenth century

Nannaya's great successor, who completed most of the Telugu Mahābhārata, was Tikkana, minister to a small king called Manumasiddhi in NellŪru (present-day Nellore). We know the names of his parents, Annamâmba and Kommanâmātya, and his title, Somayāji, which seems to reflect a ritual (Vedic sacrificial) role. He plays a major part in later literary tradition, such as in the Pratāparuda caritramu of Ekâmranātha and the Siddheś;vara caritramu of Kāse Sarvappa (17th century), where he appears as a deft negotiator and a relentless enemy of Buddhism and Jainism. He is said to have won a victory for his king—in effect to have reinstated him on his throne after Manumasiddhi had been driven away by his enemies, Akkana and Bayyana—by a personal mission to the Kākatīya king Ganapati Deva. His image is of an active, imaginative ideologue no less than a sophisticated and innovative poet.

Along with his parts of the Mahābhārata, Tikkana composed an Uttararāmāyanamu, popularly known as Nirvacanottara-rāmāyanamu because it contains no prose passages (vacanam); the book is dedicated to Manumasiddhi. His Mahābhārata is dedicated to the god Hariharañatha, a conjoined form of Visnu and śiva.

In his colophons, Tikkana calls himself ubhaya-kavi-mitra, "a friend of both schools of poetry." It is unclear what he means by this, but it is possible that the reference is to ś;aiva and non-ś;aiva streams, which in this context run parallel to deśi ("local, regional, popular") and mārga (elevated, Sanskritic, classical). Both his syntax and diction were strikingly Dravidian, and never emulated by his successors. Straddling the boundaries of oral/performative and written/monological composition, Tikkana stands alone in the whole history of Telugu literature, a figure of remarkable individual creativity.

The passage chosen for this anthology, from the fourth book of the

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Mahābhārata, shows the poet engaged in elaborating a series of tableaux drawn, as it were, directly from observed life—the life of medieval Telugu village chiefs, with their clans, their intense family networks and rivalries, and their heroic values. The five Pāndava brothers are hiding, in disguise, in the Rajasthani kingdom of Virāta, where the arrogant Kīcaka serves as military commander under the king. Kīcaka falls in love with Draupadi, the Pāndavas' wife, and tries first to seduce, then to rape her. When Yudhisthira remains passive during this humiliating attack, she looks to the forthright, ferocious Bhīma to protect her. Tikkana paints this melodramatic situation with penetrating psychological insight and an ear attuned to the nuances of each individual voice.

THE SLAYING OF KīCAKA

[1] Tikkana āndhra-mahābhāratamu (Hyderabad: Balasarasvati Book Depot, 1984). Virātaparvan, 2.22–26, 33, 38, 40–45, 48–50, 53–63, 65–68, 72–82, 88–94, 96–103, 107–12, 116–17, 120–28, 140–44, 147–53, 164–78, 187, 227–32, 236, 242–72, 275–79, 290, 320–26, 328–46, 348–61.

The Pāndavas were living, together with Draupadi, in Virāta City. They were a few days short of concluding one whole year.

[2] The thirteenth year of their exile which, under the conditions of their wager, had to be spent incognito.

One day the eldest Kīcaka,

[3] The Kīcakas are a family or clan, of whom this Kīcaka—Simhabala—is the most prominent.

Simhabala, the brother-in-law of the Matsya king and his commander-in-chief, was going to pay his respects to his older sister, Sudesna,

[4] The queen (wife of Matsya-rāja).

when he caught sight of Draupadi, who was standing closeby. Kīcaka was always enamored of appearances; he was himself decked in fine ornaments and rather flamboyant, and proud of his physical strength.

	His mind could not contain
	her arresting beauty, and his eyes
	were transfixed—he could not tear them
	from that woman. He stood there, stunned,
	his heart trapped by lust, his pride in ruins.
	His limbs lost all energy, and his courage
	drained away.

	His heart was like an animal caught in a noose
	set by the hunter named Desire—and that noose
	was her beauty. Simhabala was shaken.
― 84 ―
	He thought to himself:

	"Has any human being ever seen such loveliness?
	Not only I—even Indra's son, Jayanta, [5] A model of male beauty.
	would be entangled if he saw her.
	Because of her, the rule of Passion
	must pervade the world. Making love to that woman
	would be the end result of all one's cumulating merit
	from births immemorial."

	"He's looking at me shamelessly," thought Pāñcāli, [6] Draupadi.
	and, angry at heart, she started to perspire.
	When she thought of the Creator's talent
	for getting things wrong, she was amazed.
	She started shivering, because no one was there
	to help her. "There's no escape," she thought,
	and her face turned pale.
	But he—that despicable man—read the signs wrong,
	like a fool. He was even happy, certain
	she was showing nascent passion, as he himself
	was flooded by lust.

Thus overtaken by Desire, Kīcaka, hoping to find out from his sister who this woman was, finally managed to turn his eyes away from her. He bowed to the queen and asked:

	"This woman fragrant as the lotus—what family does she come from?
	What's her story? What's her name? Who is her husband?
	Where does she live, and how does she spend her day?
	What task has brought her here? How deeply do you
	care for her? Tell me this."

The queen saw at once that his heart was torn by desire. She tried to think of some way to turn his mind away. She pretended to ignore his questions, and spoke of other matters. But he, empty as he was, quickly went back to where proud Draupadi was standing and, pacing beside her, asked,

	"Was there ever any woman on earth as beautiful as you?
	Who is your father? Who is your husband? Tell me your name.
	Your face is radiant as the moon."

---

She heard, but pretended not to hear. She stood still, without emotion. But he went on, in his fickle way:

	"Why not open your eyes, alive with light, and look at me?
	Couldn't you smile just a little, and double the charm of your delightful face?
	You might say something in reply and reveal your pearl-like teeth.
	Why not hold my hand and show your taste?"

He was staring at her, coming closer, hungry to hear her speak, trying to get hold of her hand with his, dying to show his passion. She was angry, but she controlled her deep sense of humiliation and calmed herself. "This man is filled with false pride. It's not good to be hasty. I have to extricate myself with some skill," she thought, and said:

	"Can't you see I am in some distress? This body,
	this sari, this repulsive appearance—to say that these
	are arousing is utterly wrong.

	Is it right for good people like you to talk like this?
	Don't you have sisters too? Moreover, I am of low birth,
	and a married woman. Can you approach one like me?"

	He answered: "You yourself are the proof
	that you are not lowborn. I can stand
	the sin of loving another man's wife
	better than I could bear the ongoing attack
	of Desire."

	Now she was angry, and knew how low he really was—
	knew that unless he was threatened, he would never
	soften and leave. So she said:

	"Invincible, valiant, virile,
	exquisitely equipped to destroy
	any enemy blinded by pride
	are my husbands, all five of them,
	gandharvas with bodies of gods.
	Listen, Kīcaka: they will easily
	ruin your name and kill you.
	Depend on that."

	He replied: "Forget about your husbands.
	There is no one in all three worlds
	who can engage me in battle.
	Take it from me, young lady."
― 86 ―
	Now she lost her patience and said, defiantly:

	"Is it a good idea to try to pluck the fruits
	from trees you can't reach, without thinking
	whether you can do it or not? Have you never heard,
	you idiot, of what happened to Rāvana [7] Rāma's demonic enemy. and others like him,
	their utter ruin?"

He could not see the wisdom of her words. Returning, burning with desire, to his sister, he showed her a pathetic face: he was sighing hot sighs, inflamed. But she paid no heed and made no attempt to console him. Hesitantly he said:

"My heart is stuck on that woman whose name I asked you about, and I'm in agony. Only you know what to do now. She has been with you all this time. Where did she go now?" Sudesna saw his frenzy and shook her head in disapproval.

	"He's lost in love with the hairdresser, [8] Draupadi disguised as sairandhrī. and this will surely bring
	disaster.
	He certainly won't give up if I tell him to. My god, what can I do?
	But I will try to dissuade him." So she said to him,

	"They walk gracefully like geese, their toe rings chiming.
	They toss the end of their saris from their fragrant bodies,
	and toss it back. They sway like vines, they stand beside you,
	showing off their beauty, their shining eyes enhancing
	their white smile as they speak smoothly.
	Their movements flow with desire,
	and they excite you with their words.
	So many women, like these, serve you out of love—
	why go after this so ordinary body?"

He rejected her words, looked at her, and said:

	"I'm certain of one thing. There's no one like her
	in my service, nor in the court of heaven.
	If you don't bring her to me by some device or other,
	I will suffer the torments of overpowering desire."

Sudesna replied:

	"She has five husbands, rich in strength and valor,
	gandharvas—my heart shivers if I merely think of them.
	Brother, why do you want her?"
― 87 ―
	If you follow a forbidden path, will you survive?
	To stray from what is healthy, no matter how strong
	the craving, is unwise. Listen to me,
	curb your desire."

	But he couldn't bear to hear her: his lust
	was overpowering, so he said, aggressively,
	to Sudesna:

	"Woman, I'll tell you one thing. Everybody knows
	that in this world, encircled by four oceans,
	no one can stand up to me. Her husbands
	will be shattered by the strength of my arms,
	just as the mountains were shattered by Indra's
	diamond weapon. [9] Indra is said to have cut off the wings of the mountains with his vajra.

	Stop giving me sermons. Make me happy,
	one way or the other. Put an end to the pain
	that is burning me. If you want what is best for me,
	stop telling me all this nonsense about being unwise.
	Call that woman here."

Quickly he got up and threw himself at his sister's feet, all his misery showing on his face. Sudesna was taken aback, and thought:

	"I will simply have to bear all the consequences, and bring
	that woman to him. Nothing will sway him, no matter
	what I say. This brute won't do what's right.
	He will certainly die—if not by her husbands,
	then through lethal desire."

She lifted up her brother and, as tears welled up in her eyes, she said:

	"Don't be upset. Is it a problem for me to bring that woman
	to you? Don't worry, don't waste time here.
	Go home.

	I'll send her to your house during the daytime,
	as if to fetch me liquor. Then take your pleasure."

Kīcaka heard and was happy. He went home, prepared sweet drinks and snacks, and made sure no one else was around. His infatuation with Pāñcāli was pressuring his mind. He began to fantasize, out of his inflated self, that she would crawl all over him as soon as she saw him.

---

Meanwhile, Sudesna, pretending to be thirsty, sent for Draupadi and said:

"My mouth is dry. I want a drink, a good one. Kīcaka always has the best liquor in his home. Go at once and bring some: let's see how fast you can walk."

	Draupadi's heart started pounding. She was sweating, and she was scared.
	"What a crisis," she thought. "I can't say I won't go, and I can't just go.
	I need some skillful tactic to get me out of this."

Her mind swinging back and forth, she said to Sudesna:

	"Leave me alone, send someone else for the liquor.
	I always perform your service faithfully, in constant attendance,
	intent on proper action that brings respect. This menial task,
	fit for another kind of servant, is not for me.

	I believed this house was flawless in its ways. Even in the absence
	of my husbands, I have stayed here in comfort. Is it right for me
	now to lose respect?

	Can you send me to just anybody's house, to get just anything?
	Didn't I make it clear, the very first day I came to your service,
	that there were certain low tasks I wouldn't do?"

	Sudesna knew it wasn't right, but she was thinking of her brother's pain.
	In a friendly tone, she said,

	"But I wanted it so badly—my very favorite drink.
	I didn't want to send some lowly servant.
	But you are making a big issue of it, as if
	I had asked something improper. You're all in agony.
	Is this how a friend helps a friend?

	It's not a stranger's house, after all.
	Everybody knows you there. I'm always telling everyone
	how honorable you are, from the day I first saw you."

And she went on in this vein, entreating her, and Draupadi saw that there was no way to struggle against her. She said, her mind still hesitant:

	"I will go and perform this task you want from me so badly."
	The queen was pleased, and gave her a golden vessel for the liquor.
― 89 ―
	In some anguish, Draupadi headed for Kīcaka's house. Her ears
	were still ringing with his words of harsh harrassment, and now
	Sudesna had sent her on this unworthy errand—like burning
	a person with a firebrand after he was struck by lightning.

Thinking of God protects one from all calamities, she knew, so she held Visnu of the lotus eyes in her heart as she left Sudesna's palace. Seeing the sun, she bowed her head in prayer.

	"If my mind is faithful to the Pāndavas, have compassion,
	protect me from Kīcaka."

	And the sun, moved by her grief,
	sent a demon, strong and fierce, to guard that woman.
	He came down, invisible, from the sky, and stood behind her.

	Draupadi walked to Simhabala's house and went in,
	as a deer would enter a thicket where a tiger lies in wait.

She said to Kīcaka:

	"My mistress is thirsty, and has sent me to bring liquor.
	Please pour some out for me to take." That evil man
	fixed his eyes on her face and said:

	"You are ready to sate the thirst of your mistress, and I
	am her brother: would it be fair
	not to satisfy the thirst I feel
	by pouring out your love?

Everything I have—my elephants and horses and chariots—are yours. You are the mistress of all my wealth. I'll give you brilliant jewels and ornaments, palaces fit for pleasure, lovely servant girls; even my wives will serve you, and I, too, will obey the merest sign from your eyes. You rule from now on."

Inside him, lust was raging, more and more wild, and, forgetting he who was, he fell on her.

Now the power of the demon who was guarding her from behind entered into her body, so she easily extricated herself from Kīcaka's grip, and fled the house.

Pushed away, he pursued her. She looked back in fear, wondering where she could take refuge. Luckily, King Virāta was holding court, so she ran straight into the assembly. But Kīcaka, driven by lust and crazy with pride, followed right after her, unconcerned that his secret desire would be seen.

---

	Like an elephant in heat frantically trying to catch hold of a moving vine,
	or an antigod swiftly pursuing a goddess who came down to earth,
	or a cruel hawk swooping down upon a delicate snake,
	or a powerful cat pouncing on a young mynah bird,
	Simhabala, fierce and angry, grabbed her by the hair
	and, without any hesitation, kicked her, so she fell.

	[Draupadi's guardian demon threw Kīcaka to the ground; embarrassed,
	Kīcaka quickly picked himself up, before anyone could see—but he was
	very angry, like a snake unable to bite. Both Yudhisthira and Bhīma were
	present there; Bhīma was ready to assault Kīcaka, but Yudhisthira restrained
	him with a gesture of his eyes. Draupadi, seeing that there was
	no help to be expected from her husbands, addressed King Virāta:]

	"In their heart of hearts they know what is right and what is wrong,
	and they know, too, the duty of protecting good and punishing evil.
	They can perform wonders with all kinds of weapons.
	They are famous for their skill at crushing the strongest of enemies.
	Yet these five husbands of mine just sit there, doing nothing,
	when one man is chasing me. How strange! No housewife is safe
	any more.

	In this royal court, not even one man is ready to stand up
	and say one word in defense of what is just.

	While all of you are watching, this Kīcaka is trying
	to hurt me, as no man has hurt woman before.
	I am a woman devoted to her husbands, gentle
	and blameless: shouldn't someone or other
	show compassion now?

	But this king is responsible for the Matysa kingdom;
	he's the one to be blamed. Whenever anyone
	commits wrong of any kind, the king should know
	and punish. But when Kīcaka kicks me here,
	right in front of him, this king just sits there
	and does nothing."

	Virāta heard her, and pitied the woman, but he was too timid
	to be angry at Kīcaka. So he consoled him—and Kīcaka,
	shaken and angry still, calmed down and went home.

	Meanwhile, Yudhisthira was disturbed at heart; his forehead
	was flowing with sweat that came of anger, but he pushed away
	these feelings and, exerting control, appeared unperturbed.
	In his usual voice, he spoke to Draupadi:
― 91 ―
	"Now everybody—the king and the court—have seen it all,
	and you keep on talking. Go back to Sudesna's palace.
	Do you think your gandharva-husbands were not angered
	by your humiliation? The time isn't ripe. You must be following
	some set agreement, you and they. That's why they cannot
	show their anger here. Don't blame your husbands.
	A married woman should not stand here defiant
	and full of fire, no matter how much she has suffered."

She heard him out, but still she did not move from that place. There was more she wanted to say. Watching her, he went on:

	"You're making a scene, like a dancer, just as you please,
	throwing off the self-respect of a married woman."

She gave him a withering look, full of meaning:

	"Yes, my husband is an actor. That much is certain.
	The seniors provide the model for the juniors. You're quite right,
	Kankubhattu: [10] Yudhisthira's name during this period of disguise. just like my husbands, I am a performer.

So I know very well how to act. And my husband is not only an actor—he's a gambler too. Does a gambler's wife have any self-respect?" And she went away.

She was burning with humiliation. She threw herself down on her bed, her tears overflowing, and she thought, "That Simhabala is a powerful man. The only man who could defeat him is Bhīma, son of the Wind—with some luck." It was night, everyone was asleep. She got off the bed, washed the dust from her body, dressed in clean clothes, and went to the kitchen, where Bhīma was asleep.

	"How can you lie here in comfort, Bhīmasena," she said,
	"while Kīcaka, who dishonored me, is sleeping at home in his bed,
	as if nothing happened? Is it because your big brother said
	not to show courage?"

She was speaking softly, and he woke at the touch of her hand. "Who is this?" he said, and when she said, "It's me," he knew her voice. "She has come to tell me about Kīcaka's crime and to give me the task of punishing him," he thought, "but let me hear the way she tells it." So he said,

	"Why have you come at this hour? Did you make sure
	no one has seen you?" She replied,
― 92 ―
	"You know very well. Why ask? Or, knowing,
	have you forgotten? If so, what's the point of telling you
	again? But if you know and merely want to hear it
	from me, that is fine, I will tell you—clearly,
	from the beginning.

	The king's brother-in-law, Simhabala, came to greet his sister
	and caught sight of me. His mind driven by lust,
	he spoke to me in various ways, showing off,
	like a fool utterly without self-respect. I was disgusted

	and told him off, but he didn't stop. Mad with desire,
	he even propositioned me openly. I told him angrily:

	‘Invincible, valiant, virile,
	exquisitely equipped to destroy
	any enemy blinded by pride
	are my husbands, all five of them,
	gandharvas with bodies of gods.
	Listen, Kīcaka: they will easily
	ruin your fame and kill you.
	Depend on that.’

He countered me with more bragging. With words right for that moment I got rid of him and left. Later, wicked Sudesna sent me to Kīcaka's house to bring some liquor. I objected, but she blocked me at every word, insistent. So I stopped struggling and went there for the wine; I was trusting in your strength, certain no one could do anything to me.

	He spoke crudely and tried to grab me. I pushed him off
	and went away, but he followed after.
	I ran, alarmed, to where you where. That evil man
	pursued me in anger. You know the rest.
	I have seen today the perfect wisdom
	of your brother. What is there to say, Bhīmasena?

	But this is nothing new. Duhśāsana grabbed me by the hair
	in the Kuru court, and you, in all your strength and courage,
	did nothing. And that's not all. Jayadratha also mistreated me,
	without fear, and got away with it. Everyone saw it happen again
	to me today, in this court. I'm no stranger to pain.

	People say that even strangers should pay heed
	to the cry of a woman and to the suffering of cattle.
	How, then, could Dharmarāja just sit and watch
	when Kīcaka kicked me?"
― 93 ―
	He heard, and answered:

	"If Dharma's son, a golden mountain of strength,
	had not held me back with a look when Kīcaka thoughtlessly
	attacked you, and I was raging with anger, out of control,
	I would have smashed him and his king and all his retinue—
	and then everyone would have known who we were, and the pact
	would be broken. We would have had to go back to the forest
	for another twelve years, starting all over. Moreover,
	everyone would have blamed just you and me for this disaster.

	So Yudhisthira, who holds to his truth, should be praised and not blamed.
	But we're not giving up on killing Kīcaka. Don't be sad:
	I'll finish him just like that and make you happy.

But we have to find a way that nobody will know. The actual killing is nothing hard." She replied:

	"I'm not afraid of Kunti, or of you, or even of God.
	The only one I fear is that evil woman the queen,
	with her errands for me.

	Unable to voice my anger, I was suffering,
	and all for nothing. My grief at losing my honor
	at the hands of this idiot was tormenting my heart.
	I lost my balance and spoke badly of Yudhisthira,
	though I knew what was right.

But in truth I did not want to blame him, whom everyone should praise.

	Still, what can you do? Nobody can halt the flow of good and evil
	that come at the inevitable moments in people's lives, propelled by fate.

	Since I want you, all five of you, to rise high in honor,
	I will bear all hardship—but if Kīcaka's lust cannot be thwarted
	by minor devices, or if he grabs me, I'll have to blame you.

	Son of the wind, believe me: if you don't kill him,
	I will destroy my body right in front of your eyes
	by rope or water or fire or poison
	or some other way."

Bhīma smiled and said,

	"You don't have to work so hard to convince me
	to kill Kīcaka. If he goes on living after having humiliated you
― 94 ―
	before my eyes, no woman will be safe. It was bad enough
	that I failed to show my power right then.

	Tomorrow, one way or another, he will die at my hands,
	wherever he might be hiding—even if Yudhisthira himself
	should intervene to save him, even if you should beg,
	out of compassion, for his life.

Until Duryodhana, Duhśāsana, Karna, śakuni, Saindhava and the rest of that evil lot are dispatched to the netherworld, my heart will be eaten away by worry, mired in disgrace, stirred to anger, impatient. Just as their time on earth is nearing its end, so our pact with them is ending. Eleven months have passed since we began this period of disguise, and the twelfth, too, is nearly over. As soon as the rest of this month is behind us, your sufferings will also end. Take heart. Simhabala humiliated you and still lives, but we will kill him tomorrow. Pretend to go along with him, set up a rendezvous at the theater, and tell him to come alone. When he comes, I'll kill that pretty fellow and show you his body, to deserve your love. There is no other way. This is final. We'll do just like this. Don't stray from this plan. It's almost morning. If people wake up and see us here, they'll see through our disguise and the whole plan will be ruined. We must fulfill my wish to kill him. Go back to sleep."

He left his bed and walked a few paces with her. Then he returned to his bed and lay down in anger. Draupadi went back to her sleeping quarters and threw herself on her bed; her heart was agitated, but she closed her eyes, though she could not sleep.

The sun rose. Simhabala quickly finished his morning activities, dressed in style, and went to Sudesna's palace. In his heart he was thinking,

	"I'll hurry over to see that woman with the lovely eyes.
	I'll speak to her in private and win her over, make her
	accept me somehow. Then I'll bring her to some
	convenient place and take her to bed, to satisfy
	my hunger for her, today."

	He was licking his lips. In Sudesna's chambers
	he saw her, eyes like those of a goddess,
	intent upon her tasks.

	Seeing her excited him even more. His courage lost,
	his mind shaken, unaware of his own behavior,
	he could not wait even for the people around to move away
	but immediately came close to her, as if he were an animal
	trapped by the hunter who is God.
― 95 ―
	Draupadi saw him but pretended she had not. Knowing that Bhīma
	was behind her, she was not afraid
	and kept on doing what she was doing.

	Kīcaka was making foolish jokes with whoever was around,
	scratching the ground so that his toe rings hit one another,
	crudely stretching his limbs to show off, breaking into empty laughter
	over and over, drumming with his fingers on a pillar
	and singing some silly song. He kept close to her,
	becoming anxious the longer she would not look at him,
	and his desire kept redoubling as he moved back and forth,
	staring at her over and over.

Finally, that corrupt man, showing his bad taste in all ugly ways, spoke to Draupadi:

	"If I were lucky, I would deserve to serve your feet every moment.
	Why not allow yourself to have me?
	Or have you sworn off sexual pleasure? Tell me the truth.
	Your fortune won't diminish if you let your glance stray
	to other men.

	I have crushed all rival kings with ease, in major battles.
	All the people of the world are in my care: I encompass them
	with my royal power. I rule all parts of this kingdom
	and keep Virāta as my puppet, eating from my hand.

	What's so special about you? If I desire ten thousand women
	and take hold of them, show me one man
	who can stand up and tell me to stop.

	While Virāta was watching, I pushed you
	in front of a thousand people: not even one of them
	dared to tell me it was wrong. You said you have five husbands
	who are strong. I have seen their strength and their courage.
	Is there anybody else? How can you escape me?
	I'll catch you, wherever you may hide. No one can stop me."

She could see he was very hot, and that all would be lost if she could not restrain him now with words.

	She had listened carefully to what he said, in so many ways,
	and then looking at him as if she had softened,
	pretending to give in, she spoke to him,
	as if revealing what was in her heart.
― 96 ―
	"No matter how often I say ‘Don't!’
	you keep pursuing me in force and haste.
	Think about it: other hearts, too,
	might suffer when Desire strikes,
	like yours. Does that mean we have to
	blast it all over? Can't prudence
	and desire lie down together?

	Men, when they're in love, can't contain it.
	They're obsessed. But women, no matter how much
	they love, hold it in their heart. Because they're strong,
	they don't ruin it by breaking all limits.

	You should know this and then, without letting the secret out,
	you can enjoy whatever you wish, to the limits of desire."

	Kīcaka was overjoyed. "Passion," he said,
	"has made me lose control. But let go of that.
	Why did you have to torture me so long?
	From now on I'll take your commands to heart
	and do as you say. Just tell me when, and where,
	and how."

	Now Pāñcāli was sure she had him. She said,
	as if deeply in love,

	"That theater where Uttara [11] Virāta's daughter, Kīcaka's niece. and other young women
	have their dancing lessons all day long—
	that's where lovers go at night for secret meetings.
	That's the best place for this sort of thing—
	so long as you come alone."

	His face broke out in a smile. "If you're ready,
	my beauty, I'll do just as you say. I'll be there tonight,
	all alone.

	This is our agreement. Don't forget."
	"Yes," she said, stressing that alone, "just come by yourself
	or else I won't stay—that's for sure.

	But we shouldn't go on talking here
	for long, without care. Go now:
	I have work to do."
― 97 ―
	Now that the details were settled, Kīcaka happily went home,
	his heart brimming with her words. For her part, Draupadi
	attended to her chores, then went into the kitchen.

	She was smiling as she spoke, with skillful phrases,
	to Bhīma, to inflame his hidden anger:

	"I've done my part. Now it's your turn
	to kill him, tonight, when darkness falls,
	so the world won't know."

	Bhīma smiled. "Anger, unexpressed,
	has been burning my heart; I am in anguish.
	Now you have energized me by achieving,
	so quickly, this impossible, double-edged task.
	Even Dharmarāja will be pleased
	at the marvelous way we've planned revenge."

But then he had doubt.

	"Are you sure he will come, unsuspecting,
	to the place you fixed? Might he not bring
	some others along? He's a fool, and might brag
	without thinking, so that the secret is lost."

	"Why would he do that? I spoke pleasantly to him
	and told him precisely what he had to do,
	and I observed the smile on his face.
	He won't stray.
	There's no doubt in his heart."

Bhīma said,

	"Blind with lust as he is, he will come, alone.
	When he enters the theater, he'll look for you
	and find me. Then he will fight and, depleted
	by my strength, he will die to make you happy.
	I have no doubt, and no cause for worry."

	"Good," she said, "May the Goddess of Victory
	be with you. For now, Sudesna will be looking
	for me. I shouldn't delay." And she left, happy.
	(Kīcaka spent the day in a torment of impatient longing. That night,)
	after the moon set, to the delight of thieves and adulterers,
	darkness set in: one could not tell
	a highland from a lowland, inside from out.
	It made no difference if your eyes were open or closed.
― 98 ―
	That was when Draupadi went to Bhīma and said,
	"This is the moment."

	Bhīma's heart opened up, as if he had been invited to his wedding.
	He put on his turban and looked at Draupadi:
	"Follow me, a few paces behind," he said.

	He set off at a quick pace, without showing any other sign
	of his excitement—no fury, no sound. He was ready
	to fight: he was Draupadi's husband, though no one could detect
	his inner rage. He entered the theater that was

dark as the mind of a fool, mysterious as the love of a proud woman, unpeopled as a dense and terrible forest, useless as the wealth of a miser, impenetrable as a text unread, invisible as an object found in a dream, unilluminated like a bad poem, and attractive to adulterers and thieves like the kingdom of an inefficient king.

Groping with his hands, he found, in the middle of the room, the bed that served Virāta's daughter. He asked Draupadi to sit quietly, not too far away, while he lay down on the bed.

And Kīcaka came: all dressed up, his body swollen with lust, moving lightly, his mind reeling from the liquor of longing.

	Like an elephant rushing into a lion's cave,
	he approached the place where Bhīma was already lying.
	His lust was blazing, to the point of madness,
	and he thought: "Why has Desire not yet rushed
	that woman here?"

	Inside himself, he was blind with pride at his power,
	no question in his mind. He went in, ego first,
	toward the middle of the theater, feeling his way,
	until he found the bed and, overjoyed,
	stretched out his hand.

	The son of the Wind steadied his body, which was shaking
	with violent anger, and waited, playing along,
	interested to see what Kīcaka would do or say.

	The brutish Kīcaka put his hands on Bhīma, thinking
	Draupadi was there, and his body was thrilling as he said,
	his heart stormy with passion:

	"My dear, I've brought some lovely things
	specially for you. Here, take them. Usually,
	you know, women are taken by desire when they see me
	and shower me with bribes and gifts.
― 99 ―
	A woman whose mind is ensnared by me never thinks of another man.
	Once she is fascinated by my beauty, she can't keep her hands off me.
	Imagining my charms, she will die with desire.
	When she acquires a taste for my wit, she's on fire, head to foot.
	My delightful conversation is a trap for women's hearts.
	You alone have power over me. Need I say more?"

	Hearing all this, Bhīma was disgusted at heart, but he answered
	softly, with hidden meanings, so that Draupadi, nearby, could hear:

	"So that is how you are: no wonder you can praise yourself.
	But can you find a woman who looks like me
	anywhere, no matter how hard you search? You may not know
	what you are saying.

	You can't imagine what will happen to your body
	when it is joined to mine. You can't compare me
	to any woman. You've made a mistake.

	Do you think you will touch another woman
	after touching me? Soon you'll know what it really means
	to have a body—the end of love."

	Quickly, now, he arose, with a wild laugh
	that stirred Kīcaka's heart. He grabbed his head
	and bent it. Feeling that great strength, Kīcaka
	still didn't understand. He released himself
	from Bhīma's grip, his body aflame with anger.

He thought it must be one of those gandharvas.

	He grabbed hold of Bhīma's hands and threw him
	to the ground, folding his knees against his body.
	Like a snake struck by a stick, Bhīma raised his torso high,
	his limbs swelling with furious anger.

	Now he regained his hold on Kīcaka, but Kīcaka, in turn,
	gripped him, pushing hard, and for a while
	the two of them were equally matched,
	body pressed to body, struggling fiercely.

	But they pounded each other silently, cautiously—
	for Kīcaka was afraid people would find out he had been tricked,
	and Bhīma feared that his disguise would be disclosed.

	As they wrestled like this for a long time,
	Bhīma's strength gradually increased, as Kīcaka's waned.
― 100 ―
	Bhīma knew it and pinned him down, as a lion
	takes hold of a deer, but Kīcaka rose again,
	matching anger for anger.

	And as he rose, reaching for his foe from behind,
	Bhīma pounded him with his fists
	in his vital spot—and Kīcaka fell,
	his eyes bulging, feet kicking wildly.

	As an elephant uproots a tree loaded with flowers and fruit,
	Bhīma, son of the Wind, threw Kīcaka, in all his finery,
	to the ground.

	He wanted to deform him in his dying.
	He killed him and then forced the head, the stout arms,
	and the feet into his torso and pounded it all
	against the ground, like beating a sack,
	until there was nothing but a dense, neat lump.

	Then he told Draupadi that Kīcaka was dead,
	and she was pleased but still shaken,
	having witnessed this cruel end.

	So he brought fire in secret
	and made it blaze higher
	to show her, and now surprise
	and fear and pleasure all mingled together
	as she looked. She drew near to Bhīma, standing
	behind that extraordinary corpse.

	She stared at it, gestured with her hand,
	shook her head in amazement, and
	put her finger on her nose [12] A gesture of disapproval and surprise. as she said:
	"Well, Kīcaka, was it for this that you struggled so?
	Be happy now. Once you tormented me, this was certain
	to come."

Bhīma said:

	"The thorn is out. Did you enjoy
	my fight? Have the flames of your anger cooled?
	You saw what happened to that evil man. I hope you're happy.
	Not even the strongest hero will survive in my hands
	if he tries to touch you."
― 101 ―
	She looked at Simhabala's killer and said, her heart flowing with happiness:

	"Yesterday, in the court, you had the strength to control your anger.
	Today you came here very quietly, so that no one knew.
	Without calling on any of our people for help, you performed an act
	of great courage. In the snap of a finger, you made Kīcaka formless,
	that scourge of the world. Who am I to watch this, to contemplate it,
	to praise? Though I know that you're the real hero of the story,
	my words fail. I am flooded with astonishing joy."

He liked hearing this. Yudhisthira's younger brother was happy as he said to Draupadi: "You shouldn't stay here any longer." And he went away.