Awakened by a great commotion, the Pandavas—those foremost among men—along with their mother Kuntī, found themselves confronted by Hiḍimbā, who stood before them. Her form was striking and beyond human; the tiger-like brothers and Pṛthā gazed at her in astonishment. Kuntī, marveling at Hiḍimbā’s extraordinary beauty, addressed her gently, first offering words of reassurance. “Who are you, O one with a divine appearance?” she asked. “Whose daughter are you, fair-complexioned lady? For what purpose have you come, and from where have you arrived? If you are a goddess of this forest, or perhaps an apsaras, please tell me everything—why do you stand here?” Hiḍimbā replied, revealing the truth of her presence. “This vast forest, dark as a rain cloud, is the dwelling of the rākṣasa Hiḍimba, and mine as well. Know me, O beautiful lady, as the sister of that rākṣasa lord. My brother sent me here, intending to kill you and your sons. Though he is cruel-minded, I came at his command. But then I saw your son, shining like new gold, mighty in strength. As I moved among all beings, I was overcome by desire for your son, impelled by love. Therefore, I chose your mighty son as my husband, and though I tried to turn away, I was unable to do so. Realizing that I was delaying, my brother himself came to slay all your sons. But your beloved, your wise son, overpowered him by strength and cast him aside. See, these two—man and rākṣasa—of great speed, dragging each other and roaring, are fighting valiantly.” Hearing Hiḍimbā’s words, Yudhiṣṭhira, Arjuna, Nakula, and the mighty Sahadeva sprang up. They saw Bhima and the rākṣasa locked together, dragging each other, both eager for victory, fierce as lions in strength. As they grappled repeatedly, they raised a great dust cloud, resembling the smoke of a forest fire. Covered in earth’s dust, they shone like two mountain peaks veiled in mist. Seeing Bhīma being harassed by the rākṣasa, Arjuna spoke, smiling slightly. “Bhima, do not be afraid, mighty-armed one. We do not recognize you, exhausted as we are—whether you are Bhima himself or a demon in Bhima’s form. I stand ready to assist you, Partha; I will bring down this demon. Nakula and Sahadeva will protect our mother. Remain calm and watch, do not be alarmed. Never will this demon, once caught between my arms, escape alive. The demon who has come between the arms of Bhimasena is as good as dead by Partha’s strength; let there be no doubt. This demon will never kill us, Partha. I will not release him alive; do not fear, bull among the Bharatas.” Arjuna continued, “You were attacked earlier in the night, Bhima, by this cruel demon. If the night had not ended, this great battle would not yet be finished. How long, Bhima, will this wicked demon remain alive? It is not possible for him to stay here much longer, O subduer of foes. Before the east brightens, before the dawn appears, at this fierce hour, the demons become most powerful. Hurry, Bhima, do not play; slay this terrible demon before he uses his magic—apply all your strength between your arms. You know your own greatness, wishing for the good of men. Slay the demon as Indra once slew the mighty Vritra. Or, if you consider this demon too great a burden in battle, I will take your place and swiftly destroy him myself. Or else, Vrikodara, I myself will kill him. You have done your part and are weary—rest for now.” Thus addressed by Arjuna, Bhima, blazing with anger, summoned his strength as if to bring about the end of the world. Enraged, he seized the demon whose body was like a rain cloud and whirled him around with a hundredfold force. As he spun the demon’s body, Bhimasena, mighty-armed, roared again and again in his fury. “You have been nourished in vain on human flesh, grown strong in vain, and your mind is vain. You deserve a vain death, and today you shall be no more. Today I will make the forest safe, free of thorns. Never again will you kill and eat humans, demon.” Having spoken thus, Bhimasena crushed the rākṣasa to the ground, pressed him swiftly with his arms, and killed him as one would slay a beast. As he was being subdued, the demon roared with a mighty sound, filling the whole forest like a drum soaked in water. The powerful son of Pandu, having yoked him with his arms, lifted him up and struck off his head along with the neck. Then, having severed his head, he cast it aside—its ears torn off, eyes gouged out, tongue removed, drenched in blood. The head, flung away by Bhimasena, with fangs exposed, appeared dreadful, its flesh and skin torn apart, arms outstretched in violence.