---
Chapter 40
The Forest of the Nishads
The journey toward the mountains lasted many peaceful hours under a sky painted soft blue and gold. The royal carriage rolled steadily along the dusty forest road, its wooden wheels creaking like a gentle lullaby as the towering trees of the wilderness slowly grew thicker around them.
Sunlight filtered through the tall branches above like warm golden rain, painting the path with shifting patterns of light and shadow that danced across the ground like playful spirits. Tiny glowing flowers peeked from the mossy edges, their petals sparkling with faint magic that made the whole forest feel alive and welcoming.
Inside the carriage sat Suyodhana and his dear companions, the mood calm but filled with quiet curiosity and excitement.
Beyond the open windows, the world was changing in the most beautiful way.
The busy roads of Hastinapur, with their crowded markets and tall stone walls, were far behind them now.
They were entering lands where kingdoms held little power and nature ruled with soft, wild grace.
After several happy hours of travel, the path ahead grew too narrow for the carriage to continue. Huge ancient trees stood close together like old friends holding hands, their thick roots twisting across the ground like friendly sleeping serpents.
Long vines hung from branches high above, swaying softly like green curtains, and the forest floor was covered in thick moss and fallen leaves that glowed with tiny silver specks when stepped on.
The driver slowly stopped the carriage with a gentle pull on the reins.
Bhishma stepped down first, his sharp warrior eyes scanning the forest carefully but kindly, as if greeting an old acquaintance.
"We continue on foot from here," he said in a calm, steady voice that made everyone feel safe. "The trees are too close now, and the path belongs to the forest folk."
Everyone nodded with bright eyes.
Suyodhana stepped down from the carriage and stretched his arms slightly, feeling the cool forest air wrap around him like a soft hug. Chandraketu snorted happily beside him, his divine coat shimmering with warm golden sparks.
Karna followed right behind, adjusting his strong bow across his back with a quiet smile.
Vikarna, Dushashan, Duraj, and little Dushshala also climbed down, gathering their travel packs and simple weapons, their faces full of wonder.
Soon the group began walking deeper into the forest, their footsteps soft on the glowing moss.
The woods were wonderfully alive.
Birds with feathers that sparkled like jewels called to each other from hidden branches, monkeys with playful grins leaped between trees chattering in happy voices, and somewhere far away the distant roar of a waterfall echoed through the valleys like a friendly song.
The air smelled fresh and cool, filled with the sweet scent of wild herbs, damp earth, and faint magic that made the heart feel lighter.
Yet something about the forest felt watchful in the gentlest way.
Eyes seemed to follow them from behind leaves and shadows—not in anger, but with quiet curiosity, as if the trees themselves were whispering about the visitors.
Suyodhana noticed it immediately and smiled to himself.
The Nishads were here, hidden like gentle guardians of the woods.
Suddenly—
THUNK!
An arrow struck the trunk of a tree just a few feet away from them, its tip glowing with a soft blue light that faded like a dying star.
The entire group froze for a heartbeat, hearts beating fast but steady.
Another arrow appeared, embedding itself in the soft ground near Bhishma's foot, its shaft humming with faint magic.
A sharp but clear voice rang through the forest, strong and proud.
"Stop where you are!"
Leaves rustled above them like a sudden breeze as several figures appeared among the trees, bows already drawn and arrows pointed directly at the visitors with careful aim.
These were not enemies—they were protectors.
"This is Nishad territory," the unseen voice continued, steady and firm.
"Strangers are not allowed here without reason. Turn back or speak your purpose."
Bhishma stepped forward calmly, showing no fear at all. His tall figure stood like an immovable mountain among the trees, his white hair catching the sunlight like threads of silver magic.
"I am Bhishma," he said in a steady voice that carried easily through the forest like a kind echo. "Guardian of Hastinapur and protector of the Kuru family."
The forest grew wonderfully silent for a moment, as if the trees were listening with respect.
Bhishma then gestured toward the young prince beside him with a proud nod.
"And this is Prince Suyodhana of the Kuru dynasty. We come in peace, seeking the wisdom of the Nishads and their chief."
There was a short pause filled with the soft rustle of leaves.
Then the rustling grew louder as the hidden archers slowly revealed themselves.
Dark-skinned warriors stepped out from behind the trees like shadows coming to life, their bodies strong and agile like hunters born from the forest itself. Their bows were beautifully crafted from smooth horn and living wood that still seemed to breathe, and their eyes were sharp with suspicion but also quiet honor.
Feathers and small glowing stones decorated their hair and arms, catching the light like tiny stars.
One of them, tall and steady, studied the group carefully for a long moment.
Then he lowered his bow with a slow nod.
"Follow us," the warrior said, his voice warm now. "The chief will decide if you are welcome."
---
The Nishad Tribe
The warriors guided them through narrow forest paths for nearly half an hour, the trees parting like old friends making way.
Soft glowing vines brushed their shoulders gently, and small bright butterflies with wings of light fluttered around them as if leading the way.
Finally the trees opened into a wide, beautiful clearing bathed in warm sunlight.
A village stood there, simple and full of life.
Wooden huts were built beneath enormous ancient trees, their roofs covered with thick leaves and woven grass that shimmered with faint green magic. Children ran through the clearing laughing and chasing glowing fireflies even in daylight, while hunters prepared arrows beside small fires that crackled with warm sparks.
Women moved with quick, practiced grace, grinding grains and fruits in stone bowls, their laughter mixing with the songs of birds.
But something about the village felt heavy and tired, like a beautiful song with a sad note hidden inside.
The laughter sounded a little forced.
Many huts stood empty, their doors closed softly as if hiding quiet sorrow.
Several warriors carried fresh wounds wrapped in clean leaves, and the whole tribe looked worn, as if a long shadow had fallen over their happy home.
An older man stepped forward from the largest hut in the center of the clearing.
His shoulders were broad despite his age, and his long braided hair was decorated with bright feathers and small glowing stones. His eyes were sharp like a hawk's but full of quiet wisdom and strength.
This was the chief of the Nishads—Hiranyadhanus.
He studied the visitors carefully before stepping closer, his steps steady on the soft grass.
"Bhishma of Hastinapur," he said with calm respect, bowing his head just enough to show honor. "Your name is known even in the deep woods."
Bhishma nodded in greeting, his eyes warm.
"It is good to meet the protectors of these ancient forests."
Hiranyadhanus then looked toward the young prince beside him, his gaze steady and curious.
"And this must be Suyodhana, the one whose light has begun to change the old stories."
Suyodhana bowed slightly with genuine warmth.
"It is an honor to meet you, Chief Hiranyadhanus. We come as friends, hoping to learn from your people."
The chief nodded slowly, a small spark of surprise in his eyes.
"Guests are welcome in our village if their hearts are true. Sit and share what we have."
He turned toward his people and called out in a strong, kind voice.
"Prepare food for our guests. Bring the best the forest offers."
Soon soft mats woven from sweet-smelling grass were laid upon the ground, and the Nishads brought fresh fruits that glowed with juicy sweetness, forest roots roasted to golden perfection, tender meat from wild game, and bowls of bright wild berries that sparkled like tiny jewels.
The smells rose warm and inviting, making everyone's mouth water.
But something strange happened.
None of the Kuru princes moved at first.
The food sat untouched before them like a quiet question.
Even Bhishma remained still, his face calm but thoughtful.
The reason was simple and old.
They were Nishads—forest folk many kingdoms looked down upon as lower in status. Eating their food was something nobles rarely did, and the air grew thick with that unspoken weight.
The Nishads noticed right away.
Their expressions slowly hardened, smiles fading like clouds covering the sun.
They had expected this hurt, and it showed in their tired eyes.
Then suddenly—
Suyodhana reached forward without hesitation.
He picked up a bright red apple from the wooden plate, its skin shining like a ruby in the sunlight.
And took a big, crisp bite.
The sound echoed clearly in the quiet clearing.
Everyone froze.
The Nishads stared at him in wide-eyed disbelief, their bows forgotten at their sides.
The Kuru princes looked shocked, their mouths open.
Even Dushshala blinked in happy surprise, her eyes sparkling.
Suyodhana simply smiled as he continued eating calmly, the juice sweet on his lips.
"Sweet," he said with a warm laugh. "The forest gives the best gifts."
Bhishma watched him silently for a moment, pride glowing in his eyes.
Then the old warrior let out a slow, happy sigh and reached for a ripe fruit himself.
Soon Karna followed with a quiet smile, Vikarna grabbed a handful of berries, Dushashan grinned and took two apples at once, and little Dushshala laughed as she joined in.
Within moments everyone was eating with joy, the food tasting even better because of the kindness behind it.
The tense atmosphere vanished instantly like mist in sunshine.
The Nishads began smiling again, their faces lighting up with real warmth.
Laughter returned to the village, soft and true this time, mixing with the happy chatter of children and the crackle of fires.
But while everyone else relaxed and shared stories around the mats, Suyodhana's eyes moved quietly around the clearing.
Something was wrong.
Very wrong.
Too many empty huts stood like silent tears.
Too many warriors carried wounds that had not healed from simple hunts.
Too much sadness hid behind the forced smiles and quick laughs.
He slowly looked toward the tribe chief, his voice gentle and full of care.
"Chief Hiranyadhanus," Suyodhana said calmly, setting down his apple. "What happened here? Your village feels heavy, like a cloud that will not rain."
The chief looked up, his sharp eyes meeting Suyodhana's with surprise and a touch of hope.
"Yes, Prince?"
Suyodhana's voice remained soft and kind.
"We are here as friends. Tell us your trouble. Maybe we can help lighten the load."
The chief hesitated, his hands tightening on his wooden staff.
The entire village fell silent again.
Children were quickly pulled inside huts by worried mothers.
Several warriors glanced toward the dark mountains beyond the trees with nervous eyes.
Finally Hiranyadhanus spoke.
His voice was heavy, like an old wound opening.
"There is a demon."
The Kuru princes exchanged quick glances, their hands moving closer to their weapons without thinking.
"A demon?" Dushashan repeated, his voice full of wonder and readiness.
The chief nodded slowly, his face full of quiet pain.
"A monster that lives in the mountains beyond this forest. It came like a shadow many moons ago and has not left. It demands food and… worse. Lives have been lost. Our hunters grow fewer each week. We fight, but it is too strong."
He paused, the firelight dancing sadly on his face.
"A demon known as… Baka."
The name hung in the air like a dark cloud, and the forest itself seemed to grow quieter, as if even the trees were afraid.
To be continued…
---