Indian epics seem to have an endless supply of characters for those who wish to retell the narrative from different angles. In Bhima’s Wife, Kavita Kané keeps Hidimbi at the centre to show the Great War unfolding that brings death and destruction to everyone.
Draupadi is remembered as the wife married to the five Pandavas. But the Pandavas had other wives whose stories are minor episodes in the epic. The story of one of these, Hidimbi, shows the divide between the urban and civilised on the one hand, and the tribal on the other. Bhima, the second Pandava, and of superhuman strength, falls in love with Hidimbi, a demoness. She is a forest girl, a princess of Kamakyavan. It is a union that was never meant to be: the lovers come from very different backgrounds. The royalty and people in general see the forest as a resource; they chop or burn it down to make space for settlements; they hunt animals for leisure. The forest people, dismissed as the rakshasas, demons who are more or less villains in Indian mythology, see the so-called civilized people as savages who do not care for life and intrude on their space.
The opening lines show Hidimbi resolving to marry anyone who kills her tyrant, violent brother. She bumps into Bhima, who has come to stay in her forest to hide from their hundred cousins, the Kauravas. The Kauravas have just attempted to kill the Pandavas and their mother. Bhima protects them at night while they sleep. One such night Bhima and Hidimbi meet and they fall in love. Bhima kills her brother in a duel and is declared the new king of the forest. He also wins the right to marry Hidimbi. Hidimbi however will never be accepted in the royal family: given their conflicting lifestyles and values, these cultures cannot meet. The Pandavas and their mother, Kunti, make it very clear to the young, infatuated couple as well: the Pandavas are destined to leave soon to get their kingdom back. One of the conditions is that Bhima cannot be with Hidimbi at night because he guards the family. Despite these restrictions, Bhima and Hidimbi decide to make the most of the limited time they have with each other.
Very soon, time is up and Hidimbi is left alone, looking after her forest kingdom and raising her son Ghatotkach. Her life of loneliness and the stigma of being the deserted wife worsen when the Great War sucks her son away. Technically, dharma binds Ghatotkach to fight by his father in the battle and he is in Bhima’s awe: he thinks it’s an honour to be Bhima’s son and he must live up to his father’s reputation. With his death, he helps the Pandavas win the war because killing him costs the Kauravas their most important weapon.
The story remains the same with the same ending albeit told from a different point of view. Kané draws attention to Hidimbi as a character to inspire modern women. To put it in Draupadi’s words (when the two meet during the Pandavas’ exile),
Mountain girl?! You are the most progressive and independent woman I have seen. You dared to disobey your brother, your chose your man, you dared to fall in love outside your community, dared to express it, dared to propose to him, dared to tell his formidable mother that you wanted to marry him, dared to have a child with him, dared to raise the child as a single mother. Moreover, you are politically savvy, leading your clan, dismissed otherwise as the despicable rakshasas, but you give them purpose and pride. By uniting the warring tribes, you have maintained peace and harmony in the forest that people once dreaded to enter. And above all, you have groomed your son to be the future leader of your people and this land.
The feminist message is loud and clear. Here is Hidimbi empathising with Draupadi in the context of her humiliation at the court of Hastinapur (she was gambled away by her husband and disrobed as a slave girl by the Kauravas):
The notion that a woman’s honour lies in her body was what incited them to consider stripping as an appropriate punishment … Nudity or undressing is just another confirmation of male-controlled egotism that women are, after all, just bodies, assets to be owned, subjugated and violated. The gender apartheid methodically objectifies women, thereby dehumanizing them, by silencing them, hiding them, imprisoning them, wholly burying their identity.
The reference to apartheid is anachronistic here, a somewhat direct engagement with the idea that patriarchy and misogyny have always shackled women, making the epic a reflection of contemporary times, rather than imagining the epics contemporary societies need.