Trying to retell the story of a mother and son who got subdued under the shadow of greater tales in Mahabharata. Bheema's wife Hidimbi and her son Ghatothkacha. To know the original version go to these links.
And read on for the HER side of it. Though I couldn't find out what exactly happened to this mother after Kurukshetra, this is solely my imagination.
She ran her fingers over her face. She could still feel the moistness of the kiss her son had planted on her cheeks years ago. For a last time she kissed his son on his forehead. But unlike the million times she kissed him on his forehead while he slept, she now knew that he would never wake up. "Princes are at times bound to make sacrifices", she told to herself as to make herself believe it. "And your sacrifice today saved your family's pride, my son."
Maa tell me of you and Pitashri, he urged. Like a thousand times before, she, wise not to meet his eyes let her tears drown in herself and spoke. Of her Lord's valor. Muscle and nerve. Of her life. Love and family.
"A savage life we had led. Me and your Mamaji. And then came Them into our lives.
A night too dark with hoots and howls, we waited for prey to feast. A whiff of human brawn lured our appetite. With the claws to kill hid beneath with skill, I was sent to ruse them by will. But then I was stab with the most perilous bayonet ever carved! And even before I knew my destiny had found its way beyond horizons. Wings had sprouted. That was when my child, I had met Him. Your Father.
They were 6. A mother and her fingers 5. And as the rest slept in the shade, he was awake in guard. As always he proved a great one. Stricken by affection and admiration, like a child fascinated by stars, my heart longed him to be mine. As I confessed my primitivity and of my brother waiting out their, I saw a prowess dawn in him. He was gentle enough to fondle you as breeze and mighty as the storm that could devastate.
And I saw it, as he ripped apart my Brother's torso. All done without a clatter heard. As they slept on.
Marriage, more a noble pact. And in the balance, love was over weighed by gains and worth. But I was living my life with joy and the days fell upon me as showers and petals from the heaven. They were the days of my life I had a family. Days I knew of love. Soon in me grew a shade of him. And it was you.
The pact was that you would come and he would leave. And true to the words, they left me and you, to where I belonged but not them and not you. My life and my family now, my dear son are you."
He kissed Hidimbi's cheeks and she felt how worthless were the dreams she cherished of her Bheema coming back to her. She felt her son was the treasure of joy she had always been in pursuit of. And now as his soft lips brushed over her rough face, she felt complete and profoundly in love.
He but then had got to taste his mother's tears. Bitter and grieved. He wondered why she still loved his father.
She cupped his face in her palms and said. "You know why I love your father so much?" He stared into his mother's eyes for what felt like an eternity. The words then rushed out but more slowly than the tears. "He gave me you."
As the 14th day of war at Kurushektra set, a mother had lost her son. The half shades of might and magic put in favor of the five-some clan through his death. In the clamor of trumpets foretelling the victory brought in due to her son's death, a mother's wailing was subdued. As the pyre consumed her son, she gave herself to the fire. Their hearts were woven into one. And death or life, they were to be together. The single mother and her son.