Yudhishthira and the Yaksha - The Questions at the Lake

They lay like fallen statues—Bhima, Arjuna, Nakula, Sahadeva—their faces peaceful, their bodies still. The lake shimmered with unnatural clarity.

YAKSHA: "Another one, Will you also drink and die? Or will you first answer my questions?"

Yudhishthira looked at the water. He was so thirsty the air itself seemed to burn. But he did not drink.

Yudhishthira: "I will answer."

YAKSHA: "Good. Then tell me: What is faster than the wind?"

Yudhishthira considered.

Yudhishthira: "The mind. It travels across the universe in an instant."

YAKSHA: "What is more numerous than the grass?"

Yudhishthira: "Thoughts. They arise without end."

YAKSHA: "What is the highest refuge?"

Yudhishthira: "Dharma. When all else fails, righteousness remains."

The questions continued—dozens of them, probing every corner of wisdom. Yudhishthira answered each, his throat burning, his brothers unmoving.

YAKSHA: "What makes the sun rise?"

Yudhishthira: "Brahman. The ultimate reality that sustains all things."

YAKSHA: "What is the greatest wonder in the world?"

Yudhishthira paused. This question felt different. Heavier.

YAKSHA: "Day after day, countless creatures go to the abode of Yama. Yet those who remain believe themselves immortal. This is the greatest wonder."

YAKSHA: "You have answered well. Better than any before you. I will revive one of your brothers. Choose."

Yudhishthira looked at the fallen men. Bhima, his strength. Arjuna, his champion. And the twins—his half-brothers by a different mother.

Yudhishthira: "Revive Nakula."

YAKSHA: "Nakula? Not Bhima, who could defeat any army? Not Arjuna, whose bow wins all wars?"

Yudhishthira: "My father had two wives. Kunti and Madri. From Kunti, I survive. If none of Madri's sons survive, that lineage dies completely. For fairness, I choose Nakula."

YAKSHA: "Fairness over strength. Justice over victory. This is the answer I was seeking."

A figure rose from the water—tall, dark, wreathed in authority. Yama. The god of death. Yudhishthira's own divine father.

YAKSHA: "You passed, Not just the riddles—the final test. The choice. Every other man would have chosen the warrior who could protect him. You chose the one justice demanded."

Yudhishthira: "Are my brothers truly dead?"

YAKSHA: "They sleep. All of them will wake. But this test wasn't for them. It was for you. To see if the man called Dharmaraja truly embodies dharma."

Yudhishthira: "And if I had failed?"

YAKSHA: "You would have drunk and joined them in dreamless sleep. The world would have lost its most righteous king before he could reign."

Yudhishthira: "That seems harsh."

YAKSHA: "Dharma is harsh. It makes demands that comfort does not. It asks us to choose fairness over family, principle over preference. You understand this. That's why you'll survive what comes next."

Yudhishthira: "The war."

YAKSHA: "The war and after. The kingdom you'll inherit will be built on corpses. The victory will taste like ash. But you'll reign anyway, because someone must, and because no one else will do it justly."

Yudhishthira: "Is that a blessing or a curse?"

YAKSHA: "Yes. Both. Always both. That's what dharma means. Every right action carries weight. Every choice closes doors. You'll carry this burden because you can, not because it's fair that you should."

Bhima groaned, sitting up. The others followed. They remembered nothing—only thirst, then darkness.

Yudhishthira: "Come, We need to move on."

YAKSHA: "What happened?"

Arjuna asked, reaching for his bow.

Yudhishthira: "I answered some questions. Nothing more."

He didn't tell them about the choice. About picking Nakula over them. Some truths are too heavy for brothers to bear.

But Yama knew. And Yudhishthira knew. And that was enough.