Arjuna and Eklavya's Ghost

The forest was overgrown now. No one remembered what it had been—the training ground of a tribal boy who had taught himself archery to rival the gods.

Arjuna found the old tree where the mud statue had stood. Drona's image, crafted by Eklavya's devotion. He had come here to learn why he couldn't sleep anymore.

Memory of Eklavya: "I know what you want to say,"

he said to the empty air.

No answer. Of course no answer. Eklavya was long dead, killed in some battle that no one had thought important enough to record properly.

Arjuna: "You want to say I stole from you. That Drona's demand was my doing. That I could have stopped it."

The wind moved through the trees. Nothing more.

Memory of Eklavya: "I was young. I was afraid of losing my position. When Drona said you were becoming better than me, I felt... I don't know. Not jealousy exactly. Terror. That everything I'd worked for would mean nothing. That my value was conditional on being best."

Arjuna sat beneath the tree. The ground was soft with decades of fallen leaves.

Arjuna: "I didn't ask him to take your thumb. But I didn't stop him either. I stood there, like I stood in so many terrible moments, and I let it happen because it served me."

A bird called. Somewhere far off, a monkey chattered.

Memory of Eklavya: "You could have been what I became. Maybe better. You taught yourself, with no guru, no resources, no advantage except will. And your reward was mutilation. Because I was scared."

He picked up a branch—fallen, half-rotted—and flexed it like a bow.

Arjuna: "I've killed thousands. Karna. Bhishma. My own nephews. And none of it haunts me like your face when Drona made the demand. When you didn't hesitate. When you cut off your own thumb and offered it with a smile."

The wind picked up. Arjuna almost heard words in it.

Memory of Eklavya: "I know why you smiled. Because your devotion to your guru was pure. Because for you, the giving was the completion. You weren't thinking about competition or archery or me. You were just... devoted. And that devotion made the loss meaningless to you."

He stood.

Arjuna: "I've never had that. I've loved, fought, won, lost—but I've never given like you gave. Without calculation. Without wondering what I'd get back. That's why you haunt me. Not because of what I took, but because of what you had that I've never found."

Arjuna left the branch beneath the tree.

Memory of Eklavya: "If there's a next life, I hope you get what you deserved. I hope you're the greatest archer in whatever world comes next. And I hope no prince, scared and selfish, ever gets in your way."

He walked back toward the path.

Behind him, the wind formed shapes that might have been a smile. Or might have been nothing. The forest kept its secrets.

But Arjuna slept better that night than he had in months. Confession, even to ghosts, has its uses.