Bhima Seeks the Divine Lotus for Draupadi

A breeze came from the north-east, carrying with it a single divine lotus — a thousand petals, pure, redolent with a fragrance that seemed to come from somewhere beyond the world. It descended before Draupadi and settled on the ground. She picked it up. She held it. And she told Bhima: "Look at this blossom. It has delighted my heart. I will give this one to Dharmaraja. But to satisfy my desire, get me others — so that I can take them back to the hermitage in Kamyaka. If I am your beloved, get them for me in large numbers." Bhima heard her. He took the flower to Yudhishthira. Then he left. He went in the direction the breeze had come from. He grasped his bow inlaid with gold and arrows like snake venom. He climbed up Mount Gandhamadana — a peak that seemed like an arm of the earth stretching upward, streaked with minerals of gold, black, and silver, painted unevenly as if by fingers. Clouds clung to its sides. Water gushed from streams like strings of pearls. Peacocks danced there, keeping time with the anklets of apsaras (celestial dancers). The wives of yakshas and gandharvas (celestial beings) watched him from hiding, making expressive gestures to one another. Bhima did not notice them. He remembered the many woes inflicted by Duryodhana. He thought of Arjuna, gone to heaven. He thought of Yudhishthira, who would not release Nakula and Sahadeva out of distrust for the forest. He thought: how can I obtain the flowers quickly? He travelled with the speed of the king of birds. The earth shook when his feet struck it. He uprooted gigantic trees and brushed them aside with his chest. He tore through creepers and lantanas as he climbed higher. And he roared — like a monsoon cloud streaked with lightning. Herds of animals fled. Lions and tigers attacked him. Bhima killed elephants with elephants, lions with lions, and used the palm of his hand to kill others. The animals crept away fearfully, discharging urine and dung. He entered a grove of plantain trees that extended for many yojanas. He uprooted trunks as large as palm trees and thrust them aside. He found a beautiful lake adorned with lotuses and lilies, descended into it, and sported like a gigantic elephant. Then he climbed out, entered the forest again, and blew on his conch shell. The sound of the conch, his roars, and the terrible slapping of his arms resounded in the mountainous caverns. Lions woke and roared. Elephants trumpeted. The great mountain filled with sound. Hanuman, bull among monkeys, was asleep in that clump of plantain trees. He was as gigantic as Indra's flagpole. On hearing the roars, he began to yawn. As he yawned, he lashed the ground with his tail — and the sound was like that of Indra's vajra (thunderbolt). The mountain echoed from the sound of the tail through the mouths of giant caverns. The sound spread throughout the colourful peak. Bhima heard it.