It was the oddest scene. A man was brooding over a feast. Seated, he was the height of a full-grown warrior, his arms the size of Nala’s waist. His dark, thick hair was tied to hang down the left side of his chest, covered with knotted strips of gold threaded silk. He wore a cloak of fox fur. A two-handed mace with a stone pommel and wooden grip, rested next to him. The man cast a suspicious glance at Nala, asking sharply, ‘What? Have you never seen a giant weep before?’

Nala wondered how many had? ‘Uhm...my apologies, Sir. Is there anything I can do for you?’

The giant sniffled and looked him up and down. Finally, he beckoned Nala over to share his feast. Nala approached cautiously, taking his place a little removed from the great creature before him. The giant continued munching amidst tears and sobs, but waved a hand towards the grapes. Whatever tragedy grieved him, food remained his priority.

‘What is wrong with your face?’

‘Erm... it is kilas, Sir. Discoloration of the skin.’

‘Looks like the rays of the sun are etched on your face! So, what brings you here, scar-boy? You don’t seem to be a local.’

‘I come from the Iktov Forest, Sir.’

The giant’s eyebrows arched, though he continued to eat. ‘A Valka? You look too comely to be a Valka. I encountered a Valka long ago. Bloody thief and upstart! Got his deserved punishment though.’

Nala was too fascinated with the food to be offended. My brothers will burn with envy when I tell them this story. If they believe me, that is. Maybe I should pocket a grape or two. Better yet, let Caani wrestle this man!

‘Why did you leave your forests?’ the giant asked. ‘From what I hear, you people serve your Gods in the bark of trees and the shit of birds.’

‘For a vacation, Sir. The Festival of Prakioni in Varnavrat is also the celebration of our forest deities. If we did not take my mother out at this time, it would be the death of us.’

‘Mothers, eh?’ the giant grunted. ‘Can’t drop them from a cliff and can’t stop loving them. Would you like some rabbit?’

Nala did not refuse. They ate the soft white meat and then bit into fat plums, chewing the sweet flesh while red juice ran down their chins. They savoured the food and shared stories of their mothers for a while.

‘Of the seven, only Caani listens to our mother. We—’

‘Seven of you!’ the giant interjected, cocking a brow in surprise. Nala nodded. ‘What about your father?’ he asked, his eyes burning frantically.

‘Dead. Bandit raid killed him and a sister. Only my mother and the six of us now.’

‘What’s your name, Valka?’

‘Nala.’

The giant grunted and joined his palms in greeting. The length of his palms joined together was longer than Nala’s face, head to neck. ‘I am Bheem of the House of Kaurava, the first of my name, and brother to Prince Yudhistir, rightful heir to the Hastina Union. May I invite your family to dinner?’