Duryodhana, ever sharp of mind—keen as a razor—would rise early each day. Yet, his words flowed with the sweetness of nectar, and outwardly, he showed the affection of a true brother and friend. With his own hands, he would serve generous portions of food, especially to Bhima. Trusting and unsuspecting, Bhima ate whatever was given to him, never thinking ill of Duryodhana’s intentions. But within, Duryodhana’s heart was twisted with malice. Secretly delighted, he believed his plan had succeeded, though it was the act of one most base. Afterward, the sons of Pandu and the sons of Dhritarashtra all gathered together, their faces bright with laughter, to enjoy games in the water. In the pleasure houses by the river, each hero chose his own lodging. Bhima, strong and vigorous, exerted himself even more in the water after his meal. During the games, Bhima carried the princes on his mighty shoulders, delighting them with his strength. When he grew tired, he sought rest at the water’s edge and soon fell into a deep sleep, his body exhausted. The cold wind swept over him as he lay there, but Bhima was unaware—stupefied by the poison that had been mixed into his food. His limbs were heavy and motionless. Seeing his opportunity, Duryodhana crept close, and with his own hands, bound Bhima tightly with creepers. He drove stakes into the water at intervals, and, securing Bhima with the cords, cast him from the bank into the river. Yet, by fate’s grace, Bhima did not strike any of the stakes as he fell. Instead, he slipped into the depths where, by chance, there were no stakes. Unconscious and helpless, Bhima was carried by the current into the underwater realm of the serpents. There, the serpent youths, fierce and venomous, gathered around. With their terrible fangs, they bit Bhima again and again, their poison mingling with the deadly substance already in his body. But the venom of the serpents, both fixed and moving, destroyed the poison within Bhima. Even as they struck at his vital spots, their fangs could not pierce his firm, broad chest. Gradually, Bhima awoke. With a mighty effort, he broke his bonds and began to strike back at the serpents. Some, terrified by his strength, fled at once. Those who survived his blows hurried to Vāsuki, the king of serpents, who was as majestic as Indra. They cried, “O lord of serpents! This man was bound and cast into the water. Surely, he has drunk poison. He came to us motionless, but after we bit him, he revived, broke his bonds, and now strikes at us. You should know this mighty-armed one who threatens us.” Vāsuki, accompanied by his followers, approached Bhima. He beheld the son of Kunti, his valor unmistakable, and recognized him. The noble elder and another elder of Pritha’s line also saw him. With joy, the serpent king and Bhima embraced tightly, for there was kinship between their lines. Vāsuki, renowned for his greatness, was exceedingly pleased. The king of serpents said, “What favor should be done for him? Let him be given a wealth of riches, jewels, and treasures.” But one of the serpents replied, “O king, if you are pleased, what use are riches to this boy? Rather, let him drink the elixir kept here, in which is stored the strength of a thousand serpents.” Vāsuki agreed. “As long as he wishes to drink, let it be given to him.” Then Bhima, purified and blessed by the serpents, sat facing east and drank the elixir. With one breath, the mighty Bhima drained a vessel, and in all, he drank eight such vessels. Thus, the son of Pandu received the strength of a thousand serpents. Afterwards, the serpents gave him a divine bed, and Bhimasena, the subduer of foes, lay down comfortably, resting well. Meanwhile, Duryodhana, his heart still wicked, believed his plan had succeeded—he had cast Bhima into the deadly lair of serpents. When night passed and morning came, he returned to the city, telling everyone, “Bhimasena has gone ahead of us.” Yudhishthira, ever righteous and pure of heart, suspected no evil. He always believed the best of others. He went to his mother Kunti, greeted her with affection, and said, “Mother, Bhima has come here, has he not? Where has he gone? I do not see him. I have searched the gardens and the forest everywhere. None of us have seen Vrikodara. We all thought he had gone ahead of us. We have arrived, but our hearts are troubled. Did you send him somewhere, Mother? Tell us, for my mind is not at ease concerning Bhimasena.” Kunti, distressed and anxious, replied, “My son, I do not see Bhima. He has not come to me.” She cried out in her worry, urging Yudhishthira, “Quickly search for him with his younger brothers!” The Pandavas hurried to the royal gardens, calling out, “Bhima! Bhima!” Their voices echoed everywhere as they searched, but Bhima was nowhere to be found. At last, they returned home and said to Kunti, “Mother, the mighty-armed Bhima is not seen anywhere in the gardens.” Their hearts were heavy with worry for their beloved brother.