Bhima and Hanuman - Brothers of the Wind

The path was narrow, the monkey was old, and Bhima was impatient.

Bhima: "Move aside, animal. A prince approaches."

The monkey yawned.

Hanuman: "Princes come and go. This tail stays where it is."

Bhima: "Then I'll move it myself."

Bhima grasped the tail—and froze. It wouldn't budge. He pulled harder. Nothing. He planted his feet, engaged every muscle in his legendary body, and heaved with the strength that had killed demons and wrestlers alike.

The tail didn't move.

Hanuman: "Interesting, Usually men give up before they turn that color."

Bhima: "What are you?"

Bhima released the tail, breathing hard.

Hanuman: "A better question than 'move aside, animal.' I'm your brother."

Bhima: "I have four brothers. None of them are monkeys."

Hanuman: "You have five brothers. Four who share your mother, one who shares your father. Vayu is our father. He fathered me in another age, with a different purpose. And he fathered you in this age, with yours."

Bhima: "Hanuman. You're the one from the Ramayana. The one who—"

Hanuman: "Leaped oceans. Burned cities. Carried mountains. Yes. And you're the one who will tear Dushasana apart with his bare hands. The one who will break Duryodhana's thigh despite every rule of mace combat. We are similar, you and I."

Bhima: "I'm nothing like you. You served Rama. You're a legend. I'm just... the strong one. The angry one. The brother everyone worries about controlling."

Bhima: "You think I wasn't the angry one? When Sita was taken, my rage could have burned every forest from here to Lanka. When Ravana's son struck Lakshmana, I wanted to tear the demon realm apart piece by piece. Rage is not weakness, Bhima. It's fuel. The question is what you burn with it."

Hanuman: "I burn with it constantly. It never stops."

Bhima: "Because you're young. Because the injustice is fresh. When Draupadi was humiliated, your rage became purpose. But purpose needs patience. You cannot strike until the time is right."

Hanuman: "The time is right now. Every day I wait, I betray her."

Bhima: "Every day you wait, you prepare. There's a difference. I waited years in Lanka, watching Sita suffer, unable to act because the story wasn't ready. Do you think I felt no rage? No urgency? I burned inside every moment. But burning and striking are different. Learn the difference."

Hanuman: "How?"

Bhima: "By feeding the rage without spending it. By letting it grow, compress, become something denser. When the moment comes—and it will come—you'll strike with the accumulated force of years. Not a wild blow, but a focused one. That's what breaks thighs. That's what tears chests open."

Bhima looked at his hands. The hands that had killed Bakasura, Hidimba, countless others. But never Dushasana. Not yet.

Hanuman: "Will I be strong enough? When the time comes?"

Bhima: "You're already strong enough. Strength isn't your problem. Timing is. Patience is. Trust the exile. Trust the waiting. When you finally move, you'll move with such force that the world will remember it forever."

Hanuman: "And you? Will you help?"

Bhima: "I'll be on your brother's flag. Watching. When you fight Duryodhana, I'll be there in spirit. Every blow you land, I'll feel. Every revenge you take, I'll share. We wind-sons have to stick together."

Bhima bowed—not a full prostration, but a bow of equals. Brothers.

Hanuman: "Thank you."

Bhima: "Don't thank me. Win. That's thanks enough."

When Bhima looked up, the monkey was old again, and already walking away.

Bhima: "One more thing, When you drink Dushasana's blood—and you will—don't swallow. Spit it out. Revenge should taste bitter, or it corrupts the soul."

Bhima remembered that advice, years later, when the moment finally came.