The Mahabharata is probably one of the most important stories in my community. A nighttime ritual at my grandmother’s home during summers has always been the retelling of one of the numerous stories that make up the Mahabharata. However tired my grandmother has been, she always has had enough strength for a nighttime story, a story that somehow manages to make even the most energized of us cousins sleepy.

The Mahabharata traditionally (as was told to the author) was quite different from what it is today. Over the centuries, people have added story after story into the seemingly endless net of the Mahabharata. These stories inspire, horrify, amaze and always teach us something.

Unlike most simple stories, the line between antagonists and protagonists is blurry: the concept of dharma and whether evil actions for the “greater good” are justified is questioned throughout.

The reason the Mahabharata has had me enraptured isn’t the dense moral web but the enchanting fantasies that seemed so real. These stories gradually incorporated themselves into our daily lives; there was even a story that taught us not to break a toy. But I’m guessing it was made up.

Anyhow, now the Mahabharata has become more than a story. It has become common ground between two generations, a memorable way to teach a lesson, a ritual, a habit, and these then become stories for the future. Stories quite like the one I’m telling you.