"Dronacharya is the greatest guru," he whispered to himself. "But he will never teach me. I am a hunter's son."

Blood flowed like the red hibiscus. He bowed and placed the thumb at Drona's feet.

In the heart of the great forest, where the Periyar river sang its ancient song, lived a young Nishada boy named Ekalavya. His skin was dark like the monsoon cloud, and his eyes held the fire of a thousand archers.

Ekalavya smiled. Without a tear, without a tremble, he took his sharpest arrow, placed his thumb on a stone, and cut it clean.