Vidur’s mother, albeit a Shudrani, had come to Vyasa’s life like an oasis in the midst of an arid desert. She was the only woman who had looked at an unsightly Vyasa with admiration in her eyes. Vidur was her gift to him. Vyasa shut the door softly and sat inside the hut reflecting on a very delicate chapter of his own life. If Shuka is my salvation, Vidur is my debt to this earth.
