dharme cārthe ca kāme ca mokṣe ca bharatarṣabha
yad ihāsti tad anyatra yan nehāsti na tat kva cit
yad ihāsti tad anyatra yan nehāsti na tat kva cit
"In the realm of dharma, artha, kama, and moksha, (ethics, economic development, pleasure, and liberation), whatever is found in this epic may be found elsewhere, but what is not found here will be impossible to find anywhere else."
Mahābhārata, Adi Parva 56.33)
The Mahabharata
1.26: To Badarīkā Ashram
In Hastināpura Dhṛtarāṣṭra sat in his chamber, his head in his hands. As time passed he was becoming increasingly anxious. What would happen at the end of the Pāṇḍavas’ exile? Would they not return with blazing weapons to seek vengeance? How would any of the Kauravas survive? If only Duryodhana would give up his envy. Yudhiṣṭhira would certainly live peacefully with his cousins if they were willing to share the kingdom, but that seemed unlikely. It appeared that nothing could change Duryodhana’s attitude. Even he could not sway him.
Dhṛtarāṣṭra’s anxiety doubled when he heard from Vyāsadeva that Arjuna had gone to the heavens to obtain weapons. Seeking comfort, the king called Sañjaya; when he was seated before him, he said, “O Suta, have you heard anything more about Arjuna’s activities? That powerful hero has ascended to heaven in his own body. My son is Arjuna’s sworn enemy. Their enmity will surely destroy the world. Aided by Arjuna, Yudhiṣṭhira can conquer the three worlds. Who among mortals can stand before Arjuna as he rains down virulent arrows?”
Tears flowed from the king’s blind eyes as he continued. “I do not see my son becoming successful even though Bhīṣma, Droṇa and Karṇa support him. None of these warriors can equal Arjuna, the infallible Kṛṣṇa’s friend. The man who can slay Arjuna does not exist, nor can anyone live long after coming within the range of his arrows. It seems to me that our armies have already fled in all directions upon hearing the fearful rumble of his chariot wheels. Surely Brahmā created that hero to become the destruction of our race.”
Sañjaya said nothing. He had heard the king make similar statements on many occasions, but still Dhṛtarāṣṭra did nothing to control his sons. It was as if he was hoping that Duryodhana and his followers could defy the inevitable outcome of their sinful activities. The old king was no fool, but he was so attached to his son that he allowed his attachment to overpower his reason.
After some moments Sañjaya said, “O King, your words are all true. Nothing you have said is wrong. When they saw their wife insulted in the sabha, the Pāṇḍavas became consumed by wrath. I do not see how they will ever forgive your sons. I have heard from Vyāsadeva that Arjuna satisfied the immortal Śiva and received from him his weapon. Your race now faces disaster.”
Dhṛtarāṣṭra continued to lament. The annihilation of the Kauravas was certain, he said. Allied with Kṛṣṇa, the Pāṇḍavas were invincible. Duryodhana and Karṇa were the causes of the calamity he now faced. “O Suta, when I shall hear that my armies have been crushed by Arjuna and Bhīma, I, forever obedient to Duryodhana’s desires, shall then recall all the good advice my well-wishers gave me which I should have heeded.”
With a wry smile Sañjaya replied, “O King, again you have spoken the truth. You do not care for good advice. Therefore, it is only by your own fault that you now lament. You could have stopped Duryodhana, but you chose not to do so. Now we shall all suffer the reaction.”
Dhṛtarāṣṭra fell silent. He now felt that the events were beyond his control. It was true. He was too attached to Duryodhana. He could not refuse his son anything. His half-hearted attempts to check Duryodhana were simply a waste of time. His sons laughed at his weakness. They knew they could sway him in the end. The blind king held his forehead and sighed. Would he ever see his son seated on the emperor’s throne? That right had become his only due to Pāṇḍu’s retirement. If only Duryodhana could win that right for himself. But how? Destiny seemed all-powerful. Feeling helpless, the king remained awake throughout the night, as he had on so many occasions.
* * *
After Arjuna had left for the Himālayas, his brothers and Draupadī continued to live in the Kāmyaka. They missed him sorely, and they had no idea how long he might be away or whether or not he would ever return. But they knew they would only be successful in their fight to regain the kingdom with Arjuna’s assistance. Thus they prayed for his safe passage to the mountains and for his success in gaining the celestial weapons.
Yudhiṣṭhira felt especially anguished. Bhīma would frequently remind him of the gambling match. That mighty Pāṇḍava wanted only to take up arms and chastise the Kauravas. Despite his brother’s counsel, he could not see the point of acting honorably toward dishonorable persons. Nor could he see how they would ever gain success by peaceful means.
“As soon as we leave the forest,” Bhīma said one day to Yudhiṣṭhira, “the sinful Śakuni will immediately challenge you to another game of dice. You will not refuse, although you are still unskilled at the game. Surely you will lose your senses and we shall again be consigned to the forest. O great prince, simply command me and I shall destroy Duryodhana right now, even as a fire consumes a pile of grass.”
Yudhiṣṭhira consoled his brother. He never allowed himself to become angered by his words, which he knew were spoken out of affection. Bhīma wanted nothing more than to see his elder brother as emperor of the world.
As the Pāṇḍavas discussed, the Ṛṣi Vrihadashwa approached them. He emerged from the woods as the sun comes out from behind a dark cloud. The brothers immediately bowed before him and offered him a seat, arghya, and other items.
The sage was clad in deerskin and had matted hair. Yudhiṣṭhira folded his hands and said, “O almighty one, due to the nefarious schemes of evil-minded gamblers, I have been deprived of my wealth and kingdom. Now my brothers are suffering and my wife has been humiliated. We are all exiled. My mind burns both with the remembrance of my enemies’ cruel words and my own foolishness, and I feel sorrow to think of my relatives and subjects. Now I have been deprived of Arjuna’s company, who is dearer to me than life. I remain awake whole nights feeling his absence. Have you ever heard of any king or prince more unfortunate than myself?”
Vrihadashwa replied that he knew the history of an ancient king who had ruled the Niṣadha tribespeople. He too had been defeated at dice by his brother and exiled to the forest with his wife. The king’s name was Nala, and his wife was called Damayantī. This story, the sage said, destroyed evil in people’s minds and pacified their hearts. Yudhiṣṭhira requested him to please narrate the story in detail. It turned out that Nala and Damayantī’s plight had been even worse than that which they were now experiencing. After losing everything and being sent to the forest, the king and his wife had also been separated, and both had wandered alone for a long time before finally being reunited and regaining their kingdom.
“You, on the other hand, O Yudhiṣṭhira, are here with your brothers and wife and are surrounded by Brahmins. Do not grieve. Men of your caliber always understand that material happiness and distress come and go according to destiny. It is beyond human exertion to change it.”
The ṛṣi assured Yudhiṣṭhira that he could help him never again to fall victim to Śakuni. “I am acquainted with the science of dice, O virtuous hero, and I shall pass this knowledge unto you.” Vrihadashwa then taught Yudhiṣṭhira the skills of the game and took his leave.
* * *
The Pāṇḍavas passed their days discussing spiritual topics and the art of kingship, and hearing the Brahmins’ recitation from scripture. They also underwent a daily regimen of physical training to keep themselves fit as warriors. Draupadī cooked wild roots and vegetables gathered in the forest, then placed everything on the sun-god’s dish and offered the food to the Lord. From the inexhaustible plate she then fed the hundreds of sages, then her husbands, and after everyone else had eaten, she accepted her own meal.
Besides the Brahmins who resided near the Pāṇḍavas, many traveling Brahmins stopped to see Yudhiṣṭhira. From them, Yudhiṣṭhira learned that Arjuna was performing severe asceticism in the Himālayas. The Pāṇḍavas and Draupadī felt pained to hear of it and prayed that he would soon achieve the goal of his mission and return.
One day Yudhiṣṭhira saw the effulgent Ṛṣi Nārada standing before him. After the Pāṇḍavas had worshipped him, the sage offered his blessings and asked if there was anything he could do for them. Yudhiṣṭhira bowed before Nārada and said that he wished to travel to various pilgrimage sites. He asked Nārada which sites would be most beneficial for them to visit. Nārada told Yudhiṣṭhira of the many holy places he should visit with his brothers. He also asked Yudhiṣṭhira to request the ṛṣis who were living with the Pāṇḍavas to accompany them. “In this way, O king, you will receive great merit. The paths to the tirthas I have described are infested with Rākṣasas. Only you are able to visit such holy places and thus enable these Brahmins to see them as well.”
Nārada assured Yudhiṣṭhira that by traveling to the holy places, the Pāṇḍavas would have the opportunity to meet such glorious ṛṣis as Vālmīki, Kaśyapa, Atri, Vasiṣṭha, Mārkaṇḍeya and others. “Soon the powerful sage Lomaśa will come here. Go with him to the tirthas, O King. In this way you will attain everlasting fame equal to that of the kings Mahavisha, Yayāti and Pūrurava. You will destroy your enemies and recover all that is rightfully yours. Like Bhagīratha, Manu, and even Lord Rāma, you will rule the earth and shine among kings as the sun shines among stars.”
Just after Nārada departed, Lomaśa Ṛṣi arrived. The sage was radiant in his black deerskin, and he carried only a water pot. Receiving him with honor, the Pāṇḍavas sat around him and asked him to tell of his travels. Lomaśa replied, “O heroes, while journeying throughout the worlds I went to Amarāvatī, Indra’s great city. There I saw the exalted king of the celestials and, to my astonishment, your brother Arjuna sharing his throne. Indra asked me to come to you and to assure you of Arjuna’s welfare. Thus I have come with all speed.”
Lomaśa told the Pāṇḍavas how Arjuna had acquired the celestial weapons, including Siva’s famous weapon. He had also learned to sing and dance from the Gandharvas. He would be returning soon. “Your brother asked me to lead you to the tirthas so that you may gain pious merits. Indra also made this request, and it is my desire as well. Although I have already been to all the tirthas twice, I shall go for a third time with you.”
Yudhiṣṭhira and his brothers were overjoyed to hear of Arjuna’s success. Yudhiṣṭhira said, “O exalted Brahmin, your words are like a shower of nectar. Who could be more fortunate than one who is remembered by the king of the celestials? Now having you as our guide, our fortune is complete. Be pleased, O Ṛṣi, to show us all the holy places.”
Yudhiṣṭhira then addressed the Brahmins who were staying with them. “O best of men, let those mendicants, Brahmins and yogīs who are incapable of bearing hunger, thirst, and the fatigue of travel and severe climate desist from following me.”
Yudhiṣṭhira knew that the journey to the tirthas would be difficult. He did not want to expose the Brahmins to unnecessary suffering. He continued, “All those desiring regular meals and living upon cooked food should stay back. You may now go to King Dhṛtarāṣṭra for your maintenance. The king of the Pañchālas will also provide for you. With your permission, we shall now depart.”
Sorrowfully, a number of Brahmins took their leave and traveled toward Hastināpura. Only a few hundred ascetic Brahmins remained to travel with Lomaśa, Dhaumya and the Pāṇḍavas. They chose a day to begin their pilgrimage which was marked by favorable constellations. Then before leaving, the brothers put on armor over their deerskin and bark garments. They took up their weapons with the expectation of meeting Rākṣasas. As they began their journey, Yudhiṣṭhira said to Lomaśa, “O foremost of celestial ṛṣis, I do not think that I am without religious merit, but still I am afflicted with sorrow. On the other hand, I see that my enemies lack all merit but yet they prosper. How can such apparent contradictions exist?”
“O son of Kuntī, you should never grieve for such things. A man may be seen to prosper in sin, obtain good fruits or vanquish his enemies, but he is finally destroyed to the root. I have seen many Daityas and Dānavas prosper by sin, but I have also seen them overtaken by utter destruction. O ruler of the earth, I saw all this in the Satya-yuga especially.”
Lomaśa narrated how during Satya-yuga, the first in the cycle of ages, the Asuras pridefully refused to perform religious acts while the Devas practiced virtue and engaged in sacrifice. At first the Asuras, seeking only wealth, became powerful and wealthy, but it did not last. “From the possession of ill-gotten wealth there arose every kind of evil propensity, and from that arose shamelessness. All good behavior disappeared and for want of good conduct and virtue the Asuras could no longer express forgiveness or morality. They lost their prosperity because the goddess of fortune, Lakṣmī, left the Asuras and sought out the celestials--while the goddess of adversity, Alakshmi, sought out the Asuras. When afflicted by adversity the Asuras became angry and became possessed by Kali, the god of quarrel and destruction, who influenced them toward more and more sin. Destitute of all sacrifice and religious ritual, they soon met complete ruin.
“On the other hand, the virtuous Devas visited holy places and engaged in sacrifice, charity and asceticism. Thus the prosperity they attained was lasting.
“Therefore, O best of men, you too will gain good fortune by visiting the tirthas and by your ascetic life in the forest. Dhṛtarāṣṭra’s sons, addicted to sin, will certainly be destroyed exactly as the Asuras were destroyed.”
Reassured by Lomaśa’s words, Yudhiṣṭhira and his brothers, along with Draupadī, followed the ṛṣi through the forest. Behind them walked their attendants, headed by Indrasena, the brothers’ long-time intimate servant who had gone with them into the forest. The Brahmins followed the servants, and the party formed a long line through the undergrowth.
Gradually they visited the many sacred tirthas and bathed in numerous holy rivers and lakes. They offered oblations to their ancestors and heard spiritual instructions from the ascetics living at the sacred sites. The brothers also heard the fascinating accounts of kings and ṛṣis of former ages associated with all the holy places.
When they reached the Himālayas, Lomaśa warned the party to proceed with caution. “There is Mount Meru and the peaks of Kailāsa, Gandhamādana, Triśṛṅga and Makaragiri,” he said, pointing ahead to the splendid mountain rising into the clouds. “Here reside thousands of invisible celestial beings. The Kimpuruṣas, Yakṣas, Kinnaras, Suparṇas, Nāgas and Rākṣasas, all as swift as the wind and as powerful as a thousand mighty elephants, move about on these mountain ranges. Sinful men cannot gain access here, for they will be destroyed by the celestials.”
As Lomaśa prayed to the gods for protection, Yudhiṣṭhira said to Bhīma, “Carefully guard Draupadī, dear brother. She always seeks and deserves your protection when she is afraid. We shall now proceed into these sacred mountains. By virtue of our asceticism and the pious merits we have earned through sacrifice, we may all be allowed to approach this holy region.”
Lomaśa had told the brothers that they would meet Arjuna in the mountains as he descended from heaven onto the summit of the Gandhamādana mountain. They decided to go there and await Arjuna’s arrival. The path to the mountain peak, however, was fraught with danger. Lomaśa asked Yudhiṣṭhira to tell his servants and most of the Brahmins to stay back. Bhīma then placed Draupadī on his shoulders, and the party, with only a few Brahmins, made their way into the Himālayan range along the craggy mountain paths.
The terrain was rugged and the climb arduous. At last they came to the Alakanandā river, said to descend to earth from the heavens. They worshipped the holy river and bathed in its crystal clear waters. The brothers looked around at the brilliant scenery that surrounded them on the high mountain plateau. It seemed as if they had arrived on a heavenly planet. Blossoming trees of every color gave off celestial fragrances. The ground was carpeted with soft bluish grasses and expanses of wild flowers. Transparent lakes filled with blue lotuses and crowded with swans and chakravarkas lay amid groves of fruit trees. The musical sounds of cuckoos, peacocks and countless other birds filled the air. Lomaśa told the Pāṇḍavas that Indra came daily to this region to perform his rituals and prayers.
The brothers saw in the distance what appeared to be a number of massive white mountains, but Lomaśa told them it was the bones of Naraka, a mighty Asura whom Viṣṇu had slain in a past age. The ṛṣi related the story as they traveled onward toward Gandhamādana. As they approached the mountain, the path became increasingly difficult. Leaving behind the heavenly terrain, they moved slowly along snow-bound and rocky paths. Suddenly, a violent wind blew up filling the air with dust and dried leaves, blinding the Pāṇḍavas. Bhīma held onto Draupadī, who became terror stricken as she heard great trees crashing to the ground all around them. It felt as if the mountain itself were being torn asunder by some celestial power. Each of them sought whatever shelter they could find beneath rocks and huge sal trees. When the dust storm subsided, rain fell in torrents. Rivulets and streams began to flow everywhere, covered in froth and mud. As the rain continued, the streams grew louder and wider and began to carry away trees and bushes. The sky was thick with black clouds throwing out quick lightning which, despite the ferocity of the storm, seemed to play with grace upon the mountainside.
Gradually the storm abated and the sky cleared. The sun shone brightly and steam began to rise from the ground. The travelers emerged from their hiding places and, reunited, continued toward Gandhamādana.
But Draupadī was exhausted and felt she could not go any further. Overwhelmed, she fainted and fell to the ground like a plantain tree uprooted by the wind. Nakula rushed forward and caught her as she fell, and laid her gently on the deerskin Sahadeva spread out. Yudhiṣṭhira said, “How can this beautiful lady, accustomed to every luxury, sleep now on the ground? Her delicate hands and feet have turned blue with cold, and she lies there exhausted. Alas, this is all my doing. Addicted to dice I have acted foolishly and brought great suffering on those I love. King Drupada bestowed this princess upon us in the hope that she would be happy. Now she lies prostrate on the ground in this fearful wilderness.”
Lomaśa and Dhaumya recited mantras capable of destroying all ills. Nakula gently fanned Draupadī while Sahadeva massaged her feet. As she slowly regained consciousness, Yudhiṣṭhira consoled her. He looked at Bhīma. “How shall we carry on, O mighty-armed one? Many rugged and icy paths lie ahead. I do not think that Draupadī will be able to tolerate the journey.”
Bhīma suggested that they summon Ghaṭotkaca. “My son is powerful and can carry us through the skies. O King, simply order me and I shall bring him here by thought alone.”
Yudhiṣṭhira agreed and Bhīma sat down and meditated upon his son. As soon as he was remembered, Ghaṭotkaca appeared before Bhīma and stood with folded palms. He bowed at his father’s feet and saluted the other Pāṇḍavas reverently. After an affectionate welcome he said, “O sinless ones, my father has summoned me and I am ready to do your bidding. Please command me.”
Bhīma embraced his son. “O invincible hero, O child, we are proceeding to the peak of Mount Gandhamādana where we shall again see our brother Arjuna. Your mother is worn out with fatigue and cannot continue. Nor shall we find it easy ourselves to follow the tortuous mountain paths, covered as they are by ice and snow. You should therefore carry us through the skies.”
Ghaṭotkaca bowed. “With pleasure. I have at my command hundreds of sky-ranging Rākṣasas. O Father, I shall carry my mother Draupadī, while other Rākṣasas will carry you and your brothers and all these Brahmins.”
Ghaṭotkaca gently placed Draupadī on his shoulders. He looked upon her as he would look upon his own mother, Hiḍimbī. Other huge-bodied Rākṣasas suddenly appeared and picked up the travelers. Lomaśa, however, rose unaided into the sky by his own mystic power, appearing like a second sun.
The Rākṣasas flew swiftly through the heavens along the Siddha’s path. As the party traveled they saw beneath them the beautiful lands inhabited by Vidhyadharas, Kinnaras, Kimpuruṣas, Gandharvas, and other divine beings. They saw great forests intersected by rivers and filled with elephants, bears, apes, rurus, surabhi cows and buffaloes. They passed over the country of the Uttarā-Kurus. Finally, they all arrived at the Gandhamādana mountain. The Rākṣasas took them high onto the mountain to Badarīkā Ashram, the ancient hermitage of Nara and Nārāyaṇa Ṛṣis.
The Pāṇḍavas gazed around in wonder. Even though they were high in the mountains the entire region was adorned with celestial trees in full blossom. They saw the great Badarī tree spread out like a vast umbrella of lush green foliage, from which the Ashram had derived its name. The tree exuded freshness and calm, and it invited shelter beneath its boughs. Its branches were loaded with ripened fruits. Colorful birds, intoxicated with the honey falling from the fruits, flew in and out of the tree, filling the air with music.
The Pāṇḍavas approached the Badarī tree with folded palms. It was surrounded by soft bluish-green grass. Countless thatched cottages, the dwellings of numerous ṛṣis, stood around the tree. The whole region was lit by its own effulgence, requiring neither sunlight nor moonlight, and it was free from excessive heat and cold. The brothers felt both their physical pains and their mental anxieties dissipating. Even their hunger and thirst abated as their minds filled with a deep peace.
As they looked about, they noticed the many sacrificial altars tended by ascetics, and they heard Brahmins chanting in melodious voices. Nearby, the cool and clear waters of the Ganges flowed on its way to Bharata, after having descended from heaven.
Some of the foremost ṛṣis living in the hermitage came forward to receive the travelers. By their mystic vision they already knew who their guests were, and after accepting their obeisances, they honored them with offerings of pure water, fruits and flowers.
Yudhiṣṭhira thanked Ghaṭotkaca and his followers and asked them to remain with them until they returned to the Kāmyaka. On the advice of Lomaśa and Dhaumya, the Pāṇḍavas took up residence with the ṛṣis to await Arjuna’s arrival, passing their time hearing the many ṛṣis’ spiritual discourses.
1.27: Bhīma Meets Hanumān
The Pāṇḍavas remained in Badarīkā Ashram for six days and nights. On the seventh day, a wind blew up from the northeast, carrying a single celestial lotus. The flower fell at Draupadī’s feet. The princess looked in wonder at the golden thousand-petalled flower. Its fragrance delighted her mind and she was charmed by its beauty. She had never seen anything like it and she showed it to Bhīma. “Just behold this flower, O mighty-armed one. Have you ever seen anything so wonderful? It gladdens my heart and I desire to give it to Yudhiṣṭhira. Please discover where it came from and bring others so that we may take them back to our hermitage in Kāmyaka.”
Draupadī looked at Bhīma with her dark eyes, which were covered with long, curling lashes. Feeling her gaze upon him, Bhīma felt commanded. He was overjoyed at the opportunity to do something for her pleasure. She had suffered so much over the past years. The gentle princess was not suited to forest life, and she still felt the agony of the insults she had suffered in Hastināpura. Now she suffered even more due to Arjuna’s absence. He had always been her favorite among the Pāṇḍavas. Bhīma said, “It will be done. O blessed lady, you will see me return with an armful of these golden flowers.”
Bhīma faced the wind and began to climb the mountain. He traveled swiftly, resembling a furious elephant crashing through the forest. All creatures fled away in fear as he raced ahead, thinking only of Draupadī.
The region through which Bhīma passed became increasingly beautiful. Not only were the trees in full bloom, but the rocks were black stone inlaid with gems. It seemed to Bhīma as if the Goddess Earth had raised her arm adorned with sparkling ornaments in the form of this mountain. Bhīma felt a cool breeze fanning his body, and his energy increased. On all sides he saw numerous Gandharvas and Siddhas sporting on the mountain slopes with their consorts, the beautiful celestial maidens turning their heads sideways to look at the Pāṇḍava as he rushed past. Bhīma scoured the mountainside as he ran, looking everywhere for the lotuses, but he did not find the flowers. He continued higher into the mountain, roaring with exultation at his own strength and power. Hearing the tremendous noise, animals at a distance became afraid. The mountain tigers left their dens and ran about. Some of them tried to attack Bhīma, but he slapped them aside as he ran. He lifted elephants and tossed them at other elephants, clearing his path.
Bhīma then came to a plantain forest. He entered it with force and broke some of the tall trees by hitting against them with his arms and thighs. He was still shouting, and his roars now mixed with the terrified cries of the forest animals. The tumult he created carried for miles.
Suddenly, Bhīma noticed aquatic birds rising into the air not far off, frightened by the noise. Realizing there must be water nearby, and that lotuses grow on water, he made his way toward the birds. Soon, he saw a delightful lake. The Pāṇḍava went down to the water which was adorned by innumerable lotuses and lilies. He dived in and swam about like a maddened elephant. Refreshed and enlivened, he rose from the water and let out a terrific blast from his conch shell. Examining the lotuses, however, he realized that they were not the same as the one Draupadī desired. He set off up the mountain again, following a path leading up from the lake.
He heard a loud noise just ahead of him. The sound echoed all around the mountain and made Bhīma’s hair stand on end. He ran forward to see what could have made such a noise and he found a huge monkey lying across the path, lashing the ground with his long tail and making the earth tremble. The monkey was effulgent and resembled a blazing hill of copper. He had broad shoulders and a slender waist. His face shone like the full moon, and behind his thin lips, Bhīma could see sharp, pearl-white teeth.
Seeing him obstructing his path like a hill, Bhīma roared at him. The monkey, however, did not seem impressed. He slowly opened his reddish eyes and looked lazily at Bhīma. “Why have you awakened me? I am ill and deserve your kindness. Indeed, as a human you should know the codes of religion and show kindness to all lower creatures. O hero, it seems you do not know virtue because you have come here forcefully, destroying animals on your way. Who are you? Where are you going? Do you not know that you cannot proceed further? This path leads to heaven and men cannot access it. Only those who are successful in ascetic practices can go to the celestial regions. Therefore, give up your quest and turn back. Or rest here awhile first and partake of the sweet fruits and cool water. O foremost of men, do not try to force your way past and thus die for nothing.”
Intrigued, Bhīma responded politely. “Who are you, O respectable one? Why are you in the form of a monkey? I myself belong to the royal order. I am a descendent of Kuru and the son of King Pāṇḍu, and I was born in the Lunar dynasty from the union of Kuntī and Vāyu. My name is Bhīma.”
“I am simply a monkey. I shall not allow you to pass. Turn back now. Do not meet with destruction.”
Bhīma felt his anger rising. Who was this ape? “O monkey, I do not ask that you give me permission, nor am I interested to hear your thoughts about my destruction. Stand aside. Do not experience grief at my hands.”
The monkey, still speaking in a lazy voice, said, “I am ill and cannot move. If you must pass me, then step over my body.”
Bhīma shook his head. “How can I step over you when I know that the all-pervading Supersoul, the Lord of all, resides in your heart as he does in the hearts of every being? I cannot disregard him.”
Bhīma looked closely at the monkey and he thought of the great Hanumān, Lord Rāma’s devoted servant. Could this be him? But that monkey had lived in a long past age. How could he still be alive? That would mean he was now almost a million years old. No, it was impossible. Bhīma continued, “Had I not been aware of the Supersoul I would have leapt over you as well as the entire mountain, even as Hanumān leapt across the ocean.”
The monkey turned toward Bhīma and opened his eyes wide. “Who is this Hanumān who leapt over the ocean? Tell me if you can.”
“He was my brother, begotten by the wind-god and endowed with intelligence and strength. He was the best of monkeys and he is celebrated in the Rāmayana. For the sake of Rāma’s wife, Sītā, he leapt a hundred yojanas over the sea to Lanka. I am equal to him in strength and prowess and am thus able to chastise you. Arise, O monkey, and give way. Otherwise, I shall send you to Yamarāja’s abode.”
The monkey remained calm. “I have grown old and cannot move. Please move my tail and make your way past.”
Bhīma moved toward the monkey. This was surely not Hanumān, for Hanumān’s power was limitless. This monkey was simply some insolent and powerless being who deserved to be punished for obstructing his path and refusing to move. Perhaps he was even a Rākṣasa assuming a disguise and waiting for a chance to attack. Bhīma decided to take him by the tail and whirl him around till he died. The Pāṇḍava bent over and carelessly took hold of the monkey’s tail with his left hand. To his surprise, he found that he could not budge the tail.
Placing both hands firmly around the monkey’s tail, Bhīma pulled hard. Still it could not be moved. Bhīma struggled with all his strength. His face was contracted, he was covered with perspiration, and his eyes rolled. Despite his efforts, however, Bhīma could not shift it at all. The Pāṇḍava realized that this was not an ordinary monkey or even a demon as he had supposed. Bowing his head in shame, he stood before the creature with joined palms and said, “Forgive me my harsh words. Are you a Siddha, a Gandharva, or a god? I am curious. Who are you in the shape of a monkey? I seek your refuge and ask you in the mood of a disciple. If it is no secret, then be pleased to tell me.”
The monkey sat up. “O chastiser of enemies, as you are curious I shall tell you. Know me to be the son of that life of the universe, Vāyu, born in the womb of Keshari. I am the monkey named Hanumān whom you mentioned earlier.”
As Bhīma listened in amazement, Hanumān told him in brief the famous history of the Rāmayana, which the Pāṇḍava already knew well. When Hanumān finished speaking, tears fell from Bhīma’s eyes and he fell to the ground to offer his obeisances. Rising up again, he spoke joyfully to the monkey chief. “No one is more fortunate than me, for I have seen my famous and powerful brother. O great one, I have only one desire. Please show me the form with which you jumped over the ocean. I shall then have full faith in your words.”
Hanumān replied, “That form cannot be seen by you or anyone else. When I leapt over the ocean, things were quite different than they are now. It was a different age, and everything was greater. Now that Kali-yuga is about to begin, all things have diminished. I can no longer display that gigantic form because every being must obey the dictates of time. I am no exception. Therefore, please do not ask me to reveal that form.”
Hearing Hanumān speak, Bhīma became curious to learn more from his ancient brother. “Please tell me, O Hanumān, what are the different manners and customs of each age? You have been alive almost since the first age. How have people pursued religion, economic development, pleasure, and liberation in each of the yugas?”
Hanumān began with Satya-yuga. At that time, every living being was self-realized and devoted to the Supreme Lord’s service. With the onset of each successive age, however, everything diminishes and becomes more degraded. Virtue, which was fully manifest in the first age, was diminished by a quarter in each successive age. By now, Hanumān explained, virtue and religion were three-quarters lost. By the end of Kali-yuga, it will have disappeared entirely. Hanumān concluded, “As the ages progress and virtue diminishes, so the nature and abilities of men undergo diminishment. Everything becomes inauspicious. Even the performance of religious acts in this last age produces contrary results. How then can I show the form with which I leapt over the great ocean? And even if I could, why should a wise man such as yourself ask to see something so unnecessary?”
But Bhīma was insistent. He sensed that Hanumān was able to show his most powerful form despite his reluctance. The Pāṇḍava greatly desired to see it and he declared that he would not leave until he was satisfied.
At last the monkey chief relented. Telling Bhīma to stand back, Hanumān rose up from his resting place and expanded his body to massive proportions. He covered all sides and towered above Bhīma, looking like a second Vindhya mountain. In a voice which resounded through the forest he spoke to the awestruck Pāṇḍava.
“O Bhīma, this is the extent to which you are able to see my form. I could go on expanding myself almost without limit. My size and power increase amid foes according to their strength. Rāma’s devoted servants can never be overcome by any enemy.”
Bhīma felt his hair standing erect. Dropping to his knees he said, “O lord, O greatly mighty one, I have seen your form to my satisfaction. You resemble the Maināka mountain. As you are able to show such power, how was it that Rāma had to exert himself to fight with Rāvaṇa? With you by his side, what need was there for him to do battle with that Rākṣasa? It seems to me that you could have immediately and single-handedly crushed Lanka with all its warriors, elephants and chariots.”
Hanumān returned to his normal size and replied solemnly. “O mighty-armed descendent of Bharata, it is exactly as you say. That wretch Rāvaṇa was no match for me, but if I had slain him, then the glory of Daśaratha’s son would have been obscured. By killing the king of the demons and rescuing Sītā, my Lord Rāma has established his fame and glory among men.”
Hanumān then told Bhīma to go back to his brothers. Bhīma explained that he first had to find the source of the thousand-petalled lotuses and Hanumān showed him the way to the forest where they grew. “There is the path which leads to the Saugandhika forest, and there you will see Kuvera’s gardens, which are guarded by the Yakṣas and Rākṣasas. In a great lake lie the flowers which you seek for your wife.”
Hanumān came forward and embraced Bhīma with affection. He briefly instructed him in the science of kingship and then said, “O Bhīma, having once again come in contact with a human I have felt in my mind the presence of my Lord Rāma, who is Viṣṇu incarnate and who is the blazing sun to the lotus, Sītā, and to the darkness called Rāvaṇa. Therefore, I wish to give you a boon. Ask of me whatever you desire. If you wish, I shall go to Hastināpura and kill Dhṛtarāṣṭra’s insignificant sons and grind their city to powder. Or, I can bind Duryodhana and bring him here. Tell me, what can I do for you?”
Bhīma replied that he felt assured of success if Hanumān would simply lend his support and blessings. Even his presence on the battlefield would guarantee victory. Hanumān replied, “When you rush forward for the fight, sending forth lion-like roars, I will add my roars to yours. Remaining on the flagstaff of Arjuna’s chariot, I will strike fear into the hearts of your foes by my terrific yells.”
After embracing his brother once more, Hanumān told him to depart for Saugandhika. Seeing the glint in Bhīma’s impetuous eyes as he made ready to leave, Hanumān held him by the arms and said, “Do not take the flowers forcefully, child. The celestials should always be respected. In this way they will bestow their blessings upon you. As a kṣatriya, you should perform your duty to protect other living beings humbly and keep your passions under control. Go in peace. I bid you farewell.”
Hanumān disappeared and Bhīma headed toward Saugandhika. As he walked he reflected on the majestic form Hanumān had shown him. Who could imagine such a sight either on heaven or on earth? Bhīma also remembered Rāma’s glories and the great battle he had fought for Sītā with Hanumān’s help. Millions of Rākṣasas had been slain. Bhīma knew a similar fight awaited the Pāṇḍavas. Again the all-powerful Lord, the original Supreme Person, would take part in the fight. The world would then be rid of unwanted elements. Duryodhana and his brothers were no better than the sinful Rākṣasas which Kṛṣṇa had destroyed as Lord Rāma. How could they then rule the world? Surely it was the Lord’s desire that they be annihilated.
Soon Bhīma’s mind again drifted to his surroundings. He was moving swiftly again, but the beauty of the woodlands, groves, orchards, lakes and rivers was not lost on him. Still the cool breeze carried that captivating fragrance from the blossoming trees. Herds of wild elephants roved about like masses of clouds, while buffaloes, bears, leopards and deer moved here and there.
Bhīma pressed on. Just after noon, he at last arrived in the Saugandhika region. There he saw the lake filled with fresh golden lotuses, exactly like the one that had blown to Draupadī’s feet. Swans swam upon the lake, and other water birds mingled with them, all making delightful sounds. The lake seemed to be fed by mountain springs that fell into it in cascades that sparkled in the sun. A canopy of green and golden trees, which swayed gently in the breeze, provided shade along the sandy lakeshore. Heaps of precious stones lay here and there. Along with the thousand-petalled lotuses, other charming flowers of a dark blue hue grew on stalks made of vaidurya gems. Bhīma’s mind was stolen by their beauty.
But the thousands of Yakṣa and Rākṣasa guards Kuvera had deployed to protect his lake saw Bhīma arrive. They moved toward him, and their leader shouted, “Who are you, O effulgent one? Why have you come here clad in deerskin yet bearing weapons? We are the Krodhavaśās, guardians of this lake.”
“I am Bhīmasena, Pāṇḍu’s son. I have come with my elder brother Dharmarāja to Badarīkā Ashram. There too is my dear wife, Draupadī. The breeze brought to her an excellent Saugandhika lotus, and she asked me to bring her more. O night-rangers, I have thus come here in order to satisfy that lady of faultless features, for her wish is always my order.”
The Rākṣasa placed his spear on the ground and replied, “O foremost of men, this place is Kuvera’s favorite playground. Humans may not sport here, nor may they take away the flowers and fruits. Only the celestials are permitted to use this lake. Others who try, disregarding the lord of wealth, certainly meet destruction. As you desire to take away the lotuses belonging to Kuvera without his permission, how can you say that you are Dharmarāja’s brother? Do not perform an irreligious act. First ask Kuvera’s permission and then you may enter the lake.”
Bhīma did not care for the warning. He had little regard for Rākṣasas and was certainly not going to be told what to do by them. Completely forgetting Hanumān’s admonishment, he placed his hand on his mace and boomed out, “O Rākṣasas, I do not see the illustrious Kuvera here, and even if I did, I would not pray for these flowers. It is not the duty of kṣatriyas to beg. In any event, this lake has sprung up on the mountain breast and belongs to everyone. Kuvera did not make it, nor did he create the lotuses. Why then should I ask his permission?”
Having said this, Bhīma plunged into the lake and began to gather the lotuses. The Krodhavaśās advanced, shouting at him to desist. Bhīma ignored them. As far as he was concerned the lotuses were the property of their creator, God, not any lesser god. Bhīma felt he had as much right to take them as did Kuvera. The Pāṇḍava knew that Draupadī would first offer them to the Lord before giving them to anyone else.
Seeing Bhīma taking the flowers despite their warnings, the guards charged.
“Seize him!”
“Cut him up!”
“Bind him!”
The Rākṣasas entered the shallow waters and Bhīma stood to receive them. Taking hold of his mace, inlaid with gold and resembling the mace Yamarāja carries, Bhīma shouted back, “Stand and fight!”
The guards surrounded Bhīma. Bhīma whirled his mace and met the advancing Rākṣasas with blows. Heroic and courageous, Vāyu’s son was devoted to virtue and truth and was thus incapable of being vanquished by any enemy through prowess. He killed the Krodhavaśās by the hundreds, beginning with the foremost among them. Many of them fell into the water, their arms and legs broken. Bhīma was a furious whirlwind now. The Rākṣasas could hardly look at him as he fought. They began to flee in fear, taking to the skies.
Seeing the guards retreating, Bhīma lowered his mace and continued to gather lotuses. He drank the lake’s clear water, which tasted like celestial nectar and which restored his energy and strength. As he picked the lotuses, he presented them mentally to Draupadī.
The Krodhavaśās ran back in terror to Kuvera and told him what had happened. The god only smiled and said, “Let Bhīma take as many lotuses as he likes for Draupadī. I already knew he would be coming.”
Hearing their master’s words, the guards returned to the lake and saw Bhīma sporting alone in its waters with a number of lotuses lying near him on the bank. They watched him in silence, keeping a safe distance.
1.28: Kuvera Offended
At Badarīkā, Yudhiṣṭhira suddenly noticed the appearance of fearful omens. A violent wind blew up, lashing sand and pebbles into the Pāṇḍavas’ faces. Meteors fell from the sky and the sun became obscured by darkness. The earth trembled, dust fell in showers, and explosions were heard in the sky. All around them the brothers could hear the shrieks of birds and beasts.
Yudhiṣṭhira looked around. Where was Bhīma? Had his brother gone off on some adventure? These omens obviously indicated that something powerful was occurring somewhere. Not seeing Bhīma anywhere, Yudhiṣṭhira feared that he might be the cause of the portents. He spoke anxiously to his brothers, “O invincible ones, arm yourselves. It seems that the time for us to display our prowess has arrived.”
Yudhiṣṭhira turned to Draupadī, “Do you know where Bhīma is? Is he intent on performing some terrible act? Or has he already achieved a tremendous feat? These omens clearly indicate battle.”
“O hero, this morning I presented to you a golden lotus. I requested Bhīma to fetch more of those flowers, and he left at once for the higher reaches of this mountain.”
Yudhiṣṭhira could immediately understand that Bhīma had disturbed the celestials by attempting to take the lotuses from them. He went quickly to Ghaṭotkaca and said, “O sky-ranger, you are like a celestial in prowess and ability. We need your help. It seems my younger brother has gone upward to the regions of the gods. By his own power Vāyu’s son can leap into the sky and come down at will. He moves with the speed of the wind and has left to find the celestial lotuses. Please carry us to the place where they grow so that I may see what Bhīma has done.”
Replying, “So be it,” Ghaṭotkaca and his followers carried the Pāṇḍavas, Draupadī and the Brahmins to Saugandhika. Ghaṭotkaca had already been there a number of times, and he knew the way well. As they descended to the ground near the lake, they saw Bhīma standing on the shore holding his mace. At a distance they saw the large-eyed Krodhavaśās watching him. A number of them lay on the ground and in the water with their heads and limbs smashed.
Yudhiṣṭhira was shocked. He went over to Bhīma, embraced him and said, “O son of Kuntī, what have you done? Be blessed. But if you wish to do good to me, then you should never again be so rash as to offend the celestials.”
Seeing Yudhiṣṭhira there, the Yakṣa guards folded their palms and bowed their heads in humility. The Pāṇḍava apologized for his brother’s acts and consoled them with gentle words. Looking around at the beauty of the region, Yudhiṣṭhira desired to remain there for some time with his brothers. He asked the guards to request Kuvera’s permission for them to stay. Hearing that Pāṇḍu’s sons had come there, Kuvera was pleased and he gave his assent. Thus Yudhiṣṭhira and his party remained for some time on the high slopes of Gandhamādana, enjoying the heavenly atmosphere.
After a few days, Yudhiṣṭhira desired to see Kuvera. Sitting by the lakeside one morning, he told Bhīma. “O brother, we have seen all the holy places with Lomaśa and the other Brahmins. Let us now see that most holy of places, Kuvera’s abode, always frequented by Siddhas and ṛṣis. Can you think of some way by which we can enter the heavenly region?”
But as Yudhiṣṭhira finished speaking, a celestial voice resounded in the sky: “O King, you will not be able to go to the inaccessible abode of Vaishravana by this way. Go back to Badarīkā Ashram. From that place you will go to the hermitage of Vṛṣaparvā, and then to the hermitage of Arstishena. From there you will see Kuvera’s abode.”
As the divine voice spoke, a cool, fragrant breeze blew down a shower of flowers. Dhaumya said, “This order of the gods cannot be ignored. We should leave immediately.”
* * *
During the last few weeks before Arjuna’s return, the Pāṇḍavas spent their time in the company of ṛṣis, but Bhīma often roved about the mountain with Ghaṭotkaca. One day, while the two heroes were absent, a powerful Rākṣasa appeared at Badarīkā Ashram. He had actually been there all along, having assumed the form of a Brahmin and living unrecognized by the brothers. He wanted to steal Draupadī. Seeing his chance, he manifested his monstrous form, grabbed Yudhiṣṭhira and the twins in one arm and Draupadī in the other. He also seized the Pāṇḍavas’ weapons. Then he rushed into the forest. Sahadeva managed to extricate himself and snatch his sword known as Kauśika. Then he chased the demon while calling loudly for Bhīma.
Yudhiṣṭhira reprimanded the Rākṣasa. “O fool, virtue decreases in you and yet you care nothing. What good result do you hope to attain by your vile behavior? In this material world the celestials, Pitṛs, Siddhas, animals, and even worms and ants depend upon men for life. Even your race depends upon men.”
Yudhiṣṭhira instructed the Rākṣasa about the interdependence of all beings. By sacrifice and religious performances, mankind satisfied the gods and the Supreme Lord, who in turn supplied them and all creatures their necessities. If men suffered and were unable to practice religion, then everyone was affected.
Yudhiṣṭhira warned, “O wretch, as you have shown ingratitude for our having maintained you for so long, and as you are now trying to steal our wife, you will surely meet with destruction.”
The Rākṣasa felt Yudhiṣṭhira becoming unbearably heavy. He was forced to slow his pace. Sahadeva was then able to catch up to him. Yudhiṣṭhira called out, “Do not be afraid of this Rākṣasa, brother. I have checked his speed and I sense that Bhīma is not far away.”
Sahadeva stood before the Rākṣasa and said, “Stay and fight! Only after killing me can you carry this lady away into the forest. Otherwise, you will die. I am Pāṇḍu’s son Sahadeva, and I am here to punish you.”
As Sahadeva brandished his sword, Bhīma arrived wielding his mace. Seeing his brothers and Draupadī in the Rākṣasa’s grip, he blazed with fury and roared, “O sinful wretch, I found you out long ago when I saw you scrutinizing our weapons, but as I apprehended no fear from you and as you were disguised as a Brahmin, I took no action against you. He who kills such a person living as a guest, even if he knows him to be an enemy, goes to hell. Nor could you be killed before your time had arrived. Today, you have touched the sinless Draupadī and thus destroyed your life duration. You have swallowed the hook fastened to the line of fate and, like the fish, will meet your destruction. Go now to where Hiḍimba and Baka have already gone.”
The Rākṣasa became alarmed and let Draupadī and her husbands go. His lips trembled in anger as he rebuked Bhīma. “It is you who are sinful. I know of your having slain those Rākṣasas. Today I will offer them oblations of your blood. Come and fight. I am waiting.”
Without saying more, Bhīma rushed at the demon. Seeing him unarmed, he put down his mace and took hold of the Rākṣasa with his bare hands. The demon met him like the Asura Vṛtra met Indra. As they fought in fury the earth vibrated with their heavy steps.
The twins came forward to help, but Bhīma checked them. “I am more than a match for this demon. By my religious merit, my sacrifices, and by my brothers, I swear that I shall kill this one today.”
The battle between man and Rākṣasa raged. They tossed each other about and aimed terrific blows at one another. Their colliding fists sounded like thunderclaps. As they rolled about, locked in combat, they broke down gigantic trees. They then lifted those trees and fought with them. The air was filled with fragments of wood as the trees were smashed to pieces. When the entire area was denuded of trees, they fought with rocks and boulders.
Without a moment’s pause the two fought intensely, each seeking the other’s death. They appeared like a mountain and a mass of clouds coming together. As they hurled boulders at one another, it seemed as if meteors were falling from the heavens. Even though repeatedly struck on the head and body by the rocks, neither fighter flinched. They wrestled like a pair of infuriated elephants, gnashed their teeth and roared.
The dreadful fight lasted for almost thirty minutes. Finally Bhīma raised his fist, which resembled a five-hooded serpent, and dealt the Rākṣasa a terrible blow on the neck. He fainted and Bhīma caught hold of him as he fell. He raised the Rākṣasa up with his two mighty arms and dashed him to the ground. Bhīma pounded his fallen foe into a lifeless lump of flesh. With his bare hands he tore off the demon’s head and threw it aside. That blood-smeared head, with wide-open eyes and bitten lips, rolled away like a huge jackfruit.
Spattered with the demon’s blood, Bhīma came to Yudhiṣṭhira and bowed before him with folded hands. Yudhiṣṭhira and his brothers praised Bhīma, even as the Maruts praise Indra in heaven.
The brothers then returned to the ashram.
* * *
It was almost five years since Arjuna had departed. Lomaśa told the Pāṇḍavas that they could expect him to return shortly. He thus instructed them to go to a higher part of the mountain to meet him. Taking up their few possessions, and with Dhaumya, Lomaśa and a handful of other Brahmins accompanying them, the Pāṇḍavas climbed to a high plateau on Gandhamādana. As the celestial voice had predicted, they came to the ashrams of the royal sage Vṛṣaparvā and the great Ṛṣi, Ārṣṭiṣeṇa. Remaining with them for some time, the Pāṇḍavas received spiritual instructions from them.
Ārṣṭiṣeṇa told them that it would not be possible for them to go further up the mountain. “Above here lies the path to the higher planets. No man can go there unless he is entirely pure and sinless. Along that path you will find the gods’ sporting ground. Even from here we can hear the sound of their kettledrums, tabors and vīṇās.”
Ārṣṭiṣeṇa told the brothers that he had been to the mountain’s summit and seen the gods for himself. He’d also seen the Gandharvas, Vidhyadaras, Kimpuruṣas and other heavenly beings consorting with the Apsarās. The great lord of wealth Kuvera could often be seen there being worshipped by the best of the Yakṣas. “At that time, this entire region resounds with the melodic chanting of the Sāmaveda. Daityas, Dānavas and Siddhas alike join in the worship of that illustrious Lokapāla, Kuvera.”
The ṛṣi suggested that the brothers should reside peacefully at his ashram until Arjuna returned. Looking especially at Bhīma he said, “Do not be restless here. Rather, live at ease. Be peaceful. The time will come soon enough for you to display your strength. Without doubt you will crush your enemies and govern the earth.”
Surveying the region, the Pāṇḍavas felt as if they had already gone to the heavenly planets. Every kind of tree was present, all of them blossoming and bending with the weight of ambrosial fruits. Sweetly singing birds played in the lush foliage while peacocks, with their tails outspread, appeared like the trees’ crowns. The lakes teemed with waterfowl and were adorned with lotuses, and the air rang with the hum of maddened bees who drank the nectar falling from the lotus cups. The brothers were fanned by a balmy breeze that carried celestial fragrances and fine drops of cooling spray. There were countless varieties of animals, all of them peaceful and harmless.
One day, as the Pāṇḍavas and Draupadī were seated on the shore of a lake, they saw the great eagle Garuḍa descending toward its waters. The bird blazed with a golden effulgence. His huge wing-beats created a wind that tossed the forest and sent showers of blossoms to the ground. Trees closest to the lake were crushed by the force of his descent and the mountain trembled. He flew with the speed of the wind and before the Pāṇḍavas’ eyes carried away a mighty Nāga serpent who lived in the lake. Having taken hold of the Nāga in his talons, Garuḍa rose high into the sky above the mountain and disappeared into the distance.
As the eagle went north, the wind from his wings blew many flowers from the mountaintop down to where the Pāṇḍavas sat. Seeing the celestial flowers of five colors, Draupadī said to Bhīma, “O best of the Bharatas, see here the exquisite blossoms which have fallen from the mountain peaks. Surely they have come from Kuvera’s abode. O hero, how I wish to see that heavenly place! But it is heavily guarded by Rākṣasas, Yakṣas and other powerful beings. If only Arjuna were here! When Agni burned the Khāṇḍava, your invincible brother held at bay the entire host of gods with their celestial army.”
In this way, Draupadī playfully taunted Bhīma. Bhīma frowned as Draupadī went on, “Surely you too are capable of standing against any foe, human or celestial. O Bhīmasena, send all the Rākṣasas fleeing to the ten directions by the mere force of your arms. Let all of us approach this mountain peak without fear. I have cherished this thought in my mind for some time. Protected by your prowess, I long to see this mountaintop.”
Bhīma looked like a wounded bull. He could not stand Draupadī’s words. Without delay, he rose up, took his weapons, and made his way up the mountainside. Moving with the gait of a lion, that mighty man--as tall as a young sal tree, having a complexion of burnished gold, with broad shoulders and a neck like a conch shell--rushed with full force toward the sheer rock face which led to the mountain summit.
Quickly, Bhīma found a narrow passage by which he could scale the mountain, which was inaccessible to ordinary men. Grasping hold of creepers and crevices in the rocks, he climbed swiftly. As he reached the summit he came to a vast plateau where he beheld Kuvera’s abode. It was adorned with glowing golden and crystal buildings of celestial design. The heavenly mansions were surrounded by high golden walls encrusted with gems of every color.
Bhīma leaned on the end of his bow and gazed in wonder at the city. Ramparts and towers stood all around it and it was graced by huge gates and rows of tall flagstaffs, their colorful pennants fluttering in the wind. In the gardens outside the city lay heaps of gems, and along its walls garlands were hung. The trees were beyond human imagination, and around them Bhīma saw many beautiful Apsarās dancing to the strains of heavenly music.
The sight of Kuvera’s opulence sorrowed Bhīma as he remembered the wealth Yudhiṣṭhira had once possessed. Then he again became angry as he remembered Duryodhana’s crimes. He took out his conch shell and blew it with the full force of his lungs. The sound echoed around the mountain summit and struck terror into the hearts of all creatures.
From the ramparts the startled Yakṣa and Rākṣasa guards saw Bhīma standing with his bow, sword and mace. They swarmed out in the thousands and rushed him, shouting in anger. Their upraised clubs, maces, swords, javelins, spears and axes seemed to blaze up as they advanced. Bhīma shot numerous arrows at them, cutting off their weapons and striking down the Rākṣasas who were on the ground and in the sky.
The Yakṣas hemmed Bhīma in on all sides. He now appeared like the sun enveloped by clouds. Without fear, he took out his sword and severed the arms, legs and heads of his assailants. As he fought with the roaring Yakṣas, he was drenched in showers of blood. Although they attacked him from every side, the celestial fighters did not see Bhīma flinch or become discouraged. Mangled by his weapons they fell back in fear, uttering frightful cries of distress. They dropped their weapons and fled in all directions.
The commander of the Yakṣa army, Maṇimān, addressed his fleeing troops angrily. “How will you tell Vaishravana that a single man has routed vast numbers of Yakṣas?” The powerful Maṇimān, armed with darts, clubs, javelins and maces, stood as firm as a mountain. His voice boomed out like a drum. “O human, stay and fight! Having come to the lord of wealth’s abode, you shall now be able to also see Yamarāja’s abode.”
With a terrible yell Maṇimān rushed Bhīma, who instantly released three arrows, each of which pierced Maṇimān in the side. Maṇimān then hurled his mace at Bhīma and it flew toward him like a flash of lightning. Bhīma fired arrows which struck the mace with force but were unable to stop it. Quickly, Bhīma raised his own mace and smashed the Yakṣa’s mace, as it fell toward him with the force of a thunderbolt. Seeing his mace broken, Maṇimān threw an iron club. As the golden-handled club shot through the air, it roared and sent forth bright orange flames and showers of sparks. Bhīma moved aside, but the club caught him on the arm, wounding him severely.
Maṇimān shouted triumphantly as Bhīma fell back for a moment, but Bhīma soon recovered and again raised his mace, the Shaika. He rushed at Maṇimān with a tremendous cry. The Yakṣa hurled a huge dart and it screamed through the air, glowing like the sun. Bhīma whirled his mace and knocked the blazing dart away.
Bhīma then resolved to kill his adversary without further delay. He whirled the Shaika over his head and rushed toward the Yakṣa. With a shout that reverberated around the mountain, Bhīma hurled his mace at Maṇimān. It struck him full on the chest with a fearful crash and split his heart in two. The Yakṣa fell to the ground like a palm tree flattened by a hurricane.
Seeing their commander lying dead, the surviving Yakṣas and Rākṣasas fled. Bhīma stood alone on that mountain plateau, looking around for further attack.
The sound of the battle had reached Yudhiṣṭhira. Hearing the mountain caves resound with loud war cries and other sounds, the Pāṇḍava and his brothers became anxious. They learned from Draupadī that Bhīma had again gone up the mountain. Yudhiṣṭhira took the twins and quickly went after him. They ascended the mountain and came to the plateau where Bhīma was standing. The Pāṇḍava stood looking like Indra after he had slain all the Dānavas in battle. He was surrounded by the dead bodies of numerous Yakṣas and Rākṣasas. Many others lay on the ground still moving, their limbs smashed by Bhīma.
Yudhiṣṭhira and the twins ran over to their brother and embraced him. The four Pāṇḍavas then sat down on the mountaintop. Looking around at the celestial region, Yudhiṣṭhira said reprovingly, “O son of Kuntī, there is no excuse for your actions here. One should never offend the king or the gods. We are living in Kuvera’s domain and you have surely given him offense by your rashness. Such behavior is as unworthy of you as untruth is of the ascetics. If you have any regard for me, then do not commit such acts again.”
Bhīma looked down in shame. It pained him to see his brother so upset. Yudhiṣṭhira pondered what to do. Kuvera was the powerful lord of the Yakṣas and a universal guardian. If he had taken offense, then their position would be precarious indeed. They could not avoid the all-knowing god, and there was no question of facing him in battle. Better that they try to pacify him in some way. No doubt he would make his appearance to survey the damage. The four Pāṇḍavas sat in silence, looking themselves like gods descended to the mountain summit.
In the meantime, the defeated Yakṣa and Rākṣasa soldiers had run to Kuvera and informed him of what had occurred. Hearing that his commander and friend Maṇimān had been killed, along with numerous other fighters, the god became angry. He then ordered his attendants to yoke his chariot.
Kuvera’s servants immediately fetched his chariot drawn by a hundred horses the color of dark clouds, each adorned with golden garlands and gems. The horses neighed loudly and moved their heads upwards as the divine Kuvera ascended the chariot, eulogized by Gandharvas and Cāraṇas. A thousand principal Yakṣas, looking like so many mountains wearing gold armor and equipped with weapons, followed Kuvera as his chariot moved off through the skies.
The celestial chariot seemed to swallow up the atmosphere and draw down the sky as it ranged across the firmament. As he traveled, the lord of wealth pondered Bhīma’s second assault on the celestials. How dare this human act so insolently toward the gods! But Bhīma, of course, was no ordinary human. He was Yudhiṣṭhira’s brother, and Yudhiṣṭhira was Dharmarāja himself. He and his brothers had all taken birth only to fulfill the gods’ purpose. Kuvera then recalled a curse uttered long ago by the powerful Ṛṣi Agastya. Of course! How else could the mighty Maṇimān have been killed? Bhīma had become the instrument of Agastya’s imprecation. Kuvera’s frown changed to a smile as he approached the summit where the Pāṇḍavas were seated.
The Pāṇḍavas saw the celestial chariot approach. Their hair stood on end and they rose quickly with folded palms to greet Kuvera. The chariot stayed in the air near the Pāṇḍavas, who stood looking apprehensively upward. The Yakṣas who accompanied Kuvera alighted on the mountain summit like so many great birds. Seeing the brothers looking across at him with reverence, Kuvera was pleased. The Yakṣa warriors saw Kuvera’s mood and stood with indifference, their weapons lowered.
The four brothers approached Kuvera and bowed before him. Thousands of Rākṣasas, with huge bodily structures and ears like javelins, then approached and surrounded Kuvera. Kuvera appeared like a fresh youth. He wore a chaplet and garlands of celestial flowers. In his hands he held a noose and a sword. A large bow hung over his shoulder. Bhīma, still clutching his mace, gazed at him without fear. Kuvera smiled at him. Then he turned to Yudhiṣṭhira and said, “O Pārtha, we are well aware that you are always thinking of the welfare of all creatures. Therefore dwell on this mountain peak without fear. Nor should you be angry toward Bhīmasena. His killing of the Yakṣas and Rākṣasas has been ordained by destiny. Indeed, realizing this I have become pleased with Bhīma rather than angry.”
Kuvera looked at Bhīma and said with a smile, “O child, O best of the Kurus, I am not angry with you. Put down your weapons. For Draupadī’s pleasure you have acted rashly and disregarded the gods, relying only on the strength of your arms. Nevertheless, I am pleased with you. Today you have delivered me from Agastya’s terrible curse. That you should insult me in this way was foreordained. Therefore I attach no blame to you.”
Yudhiṣṭhira’s curiosity was aroused and he asked Kuvera to explain the curse. “I am surprised that having angered the glorious Agastya you were not immediately burned to ashes.”
Kuvera told Yudhiṣṭhira how he had once been traveling through the skies toward Kushavati where an assembly of the gods was to take place. Hundreds of thousands of Yakṣas accompanied him, headed by Maṇimān. As they crossed the Yamunā river, they saw the effulgent Agastya sitting on its banks practicing asceticism. Out of sheer arrogance and foolishness, Maṇimān spat on his head. Kuvera immediately went before the ṛṣi to apologize, but Agastya was burning with anger and uttered a curse: “Since this evil-minded one has insulted me in your presence, he will meet with his end along with his forces at the hands of a man. You shall be grieved by this, but you will be absolved of the sin when you see that man.”
Kuvera said that having seen Bhīma he was now free from Agastya’s curse. He invited Yudhiṣṭhira to remain for some days in his abode on the mountain summit, and he gave the Pāṇḍavas news of Arjuna in heaven, saying that he would soon be returning. Turning again to Bhīma he said, “O Yudhiṣṭhira, you should ensure that this brother of yours does not give way to rashness too often. If you do not check his impetuosity, it will sooner or later bring you trouble.”
Bhīma lowered his weapons and bowed before Kuvera, who then blessed him, “May you destroy the pride of your enemies and enhance the joy of your friends.”
Kuvera took his leave from the Pāṇḍavas as his chariot carried him high into the sky. His Yakṣa and Rākṣasa attendants followed him, some flying and others riding conveyances covered with finely embroidered cushions and adorned with gems. The bodies of the warriors Bhīma had slain were removed, and the five brothers stayed on the mountaintop, served and honored by the Yakṣas.
1.29: Arjuna Returns
Although offered every kind of enjoyable thing by their celestial hosts on Gandhamādana, the Pāṇḍavas thought only of Arjuna. They could not wait to see him again, and the days passed slowly as they expected his return at any moment. The Yakṣas brought Dhaumya and Draupadī to the mountain summit to be with the Pāṇḍavas and to greet Arjuna when he arrived.
On the seventh day from the battle, the Pāṇḍavas saw in the sky Indra’s brilliant chariot approaching the mountain, resembling a meteor emerging from the clouds. Upon it they saw Arjuna seated like Indra himself. He was wearing glowing silk robes and was adorned with celestial ornaments and garlands, a brilliantly jeweled coronet on his head.
The Pāṇḍavas stood to receive him. All of them felt the greatest happiness as the chariot slowly descended, drawn by its ten thousand steeds. As it reached the ground, Arjuna got down and bowed at Dhaumya’s feet, then at Yudhiṣṭhira and Bhīma’s. The twins then bowed to him and he greeted Draupadī with gentle words. He handed her a number of celestial gems of sun-like splendor which Indra had given to him.
Yudhiṣṭhira also greeted and worshipped Mātali as if he were Indra himself. He inquired from him about the gods’ welfare. Mātali spoke affectionately to the Pāṇḍavas as a father might speak to his sons. Then he ascended the chariot and returned to Amarāvatī.
Arjuna sat amid his brothers while they asked him to tell them all about his adventures. He narrated everything he had experienced, beginning from his first meeting with Indra in the form of a Brahmin up to his departure from heaven. Arjuna told them that after he had received his training from Indra, he had to offer him dakṣiṇa. Indra had said to Arjuna, “There is nothing in the three worlds which you cannot now achieve. You are master of all the divine weapons and have no equal in warfare. I desire that you destroy my enemies, the Nivātakavacas, a race of fierce Dānavas who dwell in the womb of the ocean in great forts. By killing these demons you will fully gratify me, O hero, and repay your debt to me.”
Indra then allowed Arjuna to use his chariot and gave him a suit of impenetrable armor. He had also placed upon his head the coronet, saying, “Be victorious!”
Blessed by the celestials, Arjuna then set out on Indra’s chariot. As he was leaving, the gods presented him with a conch shell called the Devadatta, whose sound could disperse his foes. Mātali drove the chariot and they soon approached the ocean. Arjuna described the ocean to his brothers. “That dreadful and inexhaustible lord of the waters was covered by swelling waves that dashed against each other, appearing like moving hills. I saw ships full of gems sailing the sea, as well as whales, timiṅgilas, serpents and other fierce aquatics. Through the waters I could see submerged shells and heaps of precious stones. They appeared like stars on a night covered with light clouds.”
Arjuna described how Mātali had steered the mystical chariot, which could travel anywhere in the three worlds, through the ocean toward the Dānavas’ city. As it entered the nether regions and approached the city it made the whole region resound with the fearful clatter of its wheels. Hearing the thunderous sound, the Dānavas considered that Indra must be approaching to do battle with them.
“They closed the city gates and manned the ramparts. I saw thousands of demons standing with bows, swords, javelins, axes, maces and clubs, their hearts filled with fear and their limbs trembling. Taking out the Devadatta, I let out many mighty blasts which made all creatures hide in fear. The Nivātakavacas then poured out of their city by the tens of thousands. They were clad in shining mail and they clutched maces, spears, clubs, sabers, hatchets, rockets, guns and swords ornamented with gold and jewels.
“Mātali maneuvered the chariot skillfully and baffled the demons’ advance. Indeed, he moved the chariot so swiftly that I could perceive nothing at all. My enemies sounded their strange musical instruments, creating a discordant blare that filled the battlefield and stupefied the minds of all beings.
“As the Dānavas rushed at me releasing hundreds of thousands of arrows, I saw in the sky the ṛṣis who had come to witness the fight. They eulogized me with select Vedic prayers and thus inspired me. I was surrounded and enveloped by sheets of fierce-looking shafts, but I countered the demons’ arrows and the downpour of spears, maces and clubs.
“The chariot moved with the speed of the wind. Freed from the assault, I counterattacked the Dānavas. With straight-coursing arrows I drove them back, piercing each demon with a number of deadly shafts. At the same time, Mātali urged my ten thousand steeds toward the enemy and trampled vast numbers of them. He drove the chariot with such dexterity that it seemed as if it was being drawn by only one horse.
“Firing my arrows with unerring accuracy, I cut off the outstretched arms of the demons, which fell to the ground still clutching their weapons. Their helmeted heads rolled on the earth like so many ripe fruits shaken from trees. The Dānavas came at me in wave after wave. I charged my arrows with the Brahmā mantras and cut them down as they rushed upon me, but so great was their number that I became sorely oppressed on all sides. I then took up Indra’s weapon, the mighty thunderbolt, and hurled it against the demons. It threw them away from the chariot and smashed all their weapons to pieces. I quickly followed this move by shooting ten arrows at each of my assailants.
“Seeing shafts leaving my bow like rows of black bees, Mātali praised me. The arrows, inspired by mantras, drove back the enemy and mangled the soldiers. Blood was flowing like rivulets during the rainy season.
“The infuriated demons then began to fight by using illusions.
“Instantly the Dānavas vanished and rocks showered from the sky. Aiming upward and whirling quickly about, I checked the rocks with crescent-headed arrows, smashing them to pieces. Then the demons sent down torrents of rain, accompanied by a fierce wind. The whole area was flooded and no difference could be perceived between earth and sky. There seemed to be an endless sheet of water covering everything. Struggling to keep my mind controlled, I invoked the flaming Visoshana weapon, which Indra had also given me. It immediately dried up the waters and the air was filled with a massive cloud of steam.
“I could hear the demons’ terrible shouts, although they remained invisible. They sent tongues of fire at me and a screaming hurricane. I countered the fire with a celestial water weapon and stopped the wind with a mountain weapon. Then they caused a fearful darkness so that I could see neither Mātali nor my own hands wielding the bow. A shower of iron clubs fell from above and the Dānavas let out horrible screams on all sides. The steeds drew back and Mātali dropped his whip and cried out, ‘Where are you, Arjuna? What has happened?’
“Both of us were struck with terror. Mātali said, ‘O sinless Arjuna, although I have accompanied Indra in many encounters with the demons, I have never been confounded in this way and lost control of the horses. It seems that this battle has been ordained by the creator himself, who now desires the destruction of the universe. Surely no other outcome is possible from such a terrible fight.’
“I stood silent for some moments to gain control over my mind. Then I replied, ‘Be at ease, charioteer. See now the prowess of my arms and my weapons. I shall counter these illusions with the Gāṇḍīva bow.’
“I then invoked astras capable of stupefying the enemy and the Dānavas’ illusions were dispelled. They again appeared before me. Without delay, they produced more illusions that stunned my mind and senses. At one moment the earth seemed covered by darkness, then it seemed to be submerged in water, then it disappeared completely so that my chariot appeared as if suspended in space.
“I released the Shabdavedi weapon and dispelled that illusion, whereupon Mātali again steered the chariot toward the enemy. The demons flew toward me in a rage. I cut them down remorselessly with great volleys of razor-faced arrows. Then they vanished again, continuing to fight invisibly. By using celestial weapons capable of seeking them out, I continued to slay them.
“The Nivātakavacas then gave up their illusions and retreated into their city. At once everything became visible. I saw the ground covered with their mangled bodies, their weapons, ornaments, armor and limbs. It was impossible for the horses even to step. Mātali urged them upward and the chariot sprang into the sky.
“Seeing my foes retreat I relaxed, but the next moment the demons invisibly attacked me again. A thick shower of mountain crags rained down upon me. From beneath me I felt the Dānavas grasping hold of the horses’ legs and pulling them down. So many rocks were falling that it seemed as if my chariot was in a cave. Again I was gripped by fear. Seeing this Mātali said, ‘O Arjuna, take heart. Use Indra’s thunderbolt weapon. It will destroy these rocks.’
“I chanted the mantras to invoke Indra’s weapon while placing iron darts on the Gāṇḍīva. Charged with the power of Indra’s Vajra, the darts sped toward the crags and smashed them to powder. The darts also dispelled the demons’ illusions and struck them down from the sky. They fell screaming on all sides like huge meteors dropping from the heavens. Many of them fled and entered the bowels of the earth, while others vanished into the sky.
“Realizing that the demons had been defeated, I told Mātali to drive the chariot into the city. He gazed about the battlefield in amazement and said, ‘I have never witnessed such prowess, not even from the gods. These demons have until now been impossible to conquer, even by the combined efforts of the gods.’
“Mātali drove the chariot toward the city gates and I reflected on the battle. Although hundreds of thousands of Dānavas, each like a mountain, lay dead, neither Mātali nor myself had been injured. This was wonderful. Without doubt it was Kṛṣṇa’s potency alone that had protected us and enabled me to defeat the gods’ mighty foes.
“We entered the Dānavas’ city and saw thousands of wailing women. They fell back in fear as we passed, terrified by the chariot’s thunderous rattle. The clash of their jewels and ornaments as they fled resembled the sound of hail falling upon a mountain. I saw the ladies quickly disappear into their golden palaces, which were bedecked with countless gems.
“Astonished to see the city’s opulence, I said to Mātali, ‘This place appears superior to Amarāvatī. How is it that the gods do not reside here?’
“Mātali replied that the city had once been Indra’s residence, but the demons gained possession of it after pleasing Brahmā through asceticism. Brahmā gave them boons which rendered them invincible to the gods. Indra had then gone to Śiva and asked his assistance, whereupon Siva replied, ‘You shall regain this city in the future when you assume a different body.’”
As Arjuna spoke his brothers looked at him in amazement. His prowess in battle now exceeded even that of his illustrious father, the lord of the gods.
Arjuna continued: “I then left the Dānava city and headed back toward Amarāvatī. On the way back, the chariot passed another great city which floated in the sky and shone like a second sun. It was full of trees made of jewels and adorned with golden towers and palaces. Four impregnable gateways stood on each side of the city, studded with iridescent gems that radiated countless hues. I have never seen anything like them.
“Mātali told me that this was the city of the Kalakanyas, a class of fierce Daityas. It was called Hiraṇyapura, and even the gods could not conquer it. Therefore the demons dwelt there without fear. The Kalakanyas were destined to be killed by a mortal by Brahmā’s arrangement. Thus Mātali urged me to rush upon the Daityas and please Indra.
“I replied, ‘Take me there at once. The gods have no enemies whom I do not also consider my enemies.’
“As we approached the city, the demons charged out in a body, thinking that Indra had come to fight. Without a second’s delay, they rained weapons upon me--arrows, maces, swords, axes, darts and lances. I countered their attack with mighty volleys of shafts from the Gāṇḍīva. Mātali drove with such skill that the Daityas were bewildered and they fell upon one another in their attempts to attack me.
“Realizing that I was a formidable enemy, the Daityas retreated into their city, which then began to move in all directions. Sometimes it appeared in the sky, then under the ocean, then it disappeared altogether. Then it suddenly reappeared in front of me, shot upward, and made various curving motions through the air. Although I found it difficult to follow its movements, I managed to check its progress with straight-coursing arrows inspired by mantras. I released so many shafts that the city was torn to pieces and it fell to the ground in flames.
“The Daityas rose into the sky and continued to fight. Mātali then brought us down to earth and I was immediately hemmed in by more than fifty thousand chariots. I fought them with celestial weapons, but the powerful Daityas gradually repelled my missiles. The mighty demons stood before me encased in brilliant golden armor, wearing helmets and celestial garlands, and with chariots decorated with rows of flags. My mind was attracted by the sight of the Daityas in battle array and I struggled in vain to overpower them.
“I was sorely oppressed by their weapons. Sinking in the ocean of the Kalakanyas, I suddenly remembered Śiva’s weapon. Mustering up my courage, I uttered the mantras sacred to the three-eyed deity. At once there appeared before me a huge personality with three heads, nine eyes, six arms, and hair blazing like fire. His clothes consisted of great serpents whose tongues darted back and forth.
“I shook off my fear and bowed to that awful form of the eternal Śiva. Then I fixed on my bow the Rudra-astra and, continuously chanting the mantras, released it to destroy the Daityas.
“Thousands of diversely shaped missiles spread out across the battlefield as the weapon was fired. Some resembled lions, some tigers, and others bears and buffaloes. There were serpent-shaped missiles and others shaped like elephants, bulls, boars and cats. Simultaneously, the battlefield filled up with Śiva’s followers--innumerable Guhyakas, Yakṣas, Piśācas, Bhūtas, and other ghostly beings. All of them rushed toward the Daityas with frightening roars.
“As the Rudra-astra wrought havoc among the enemy, I fired a ceaseless shower of arrows glaring like fire and made of the essence of rocks. The Daityas were routed and the few that survived fled in fear. Seeing that my victory was due only to Śiva’s weapon, I bowed down to him right on the battlefield. Mātali praised me and we then returned to Indra’s abode.
“When Indra heard of my achievement he was pleased and blessed me that I would always remain cool-headed in battle and would always discharge my weapons unerringly. He also said that no celestial fighters, --whether Dānavas, Daityas, Nāgas, Gandharvas, Suparṇas, or Yakṣas--would be able to overcome me. He told me that I would conquer the earth and hand it to Yudhiṣṭhira. He gave me this impenetrable armor I now wear and fixed this coronet upon my head. He also presented me with the Devadatta; then he brought me back to this mountain.”
As Arjuna ended his narration, Yudhiṣṭhira was awestruck. He said, “O Dhanañjaya, it is fortunate indeed that you have met the most powerful gods and received from them all the divine weapons. I consider the earth already conquered and Dhṛtarāṣṭra’s sons subdued. O Bharata, I should like to see the weapons with which you defeated the demons.”
Arjuna assented to his elder brother’s request and prepared to display the weapons. With the earth as his chariot, the Pāṇḍava stood holding the Gāṇḍīva and recalled the mantras to invoke the various missiles. In his celestial armor and diadem, he faced east and silently concentrated his mind on the prayers.
Just as he was about to exhibit the weapons, the earth trembled and the mountain seemed ready to split. The sun was covered and the wind ceased to blow. Brahmins found themselves unable to recite the Vedas and all creatures felt oppressed. Suddenly, the Pāṇḍavas saw in the sky the powerful four-headed Brahmā surrounded by all the gods. The Gandharvas and Apsarās also appeared, dancing and singing on the mountainsides. A shower of flowers fell upon Arjuna as he looked about in amazement. Before him appeared the divine sage Nārada, sent by the gods.
Nārada said, “O hero, do not discharge the celestial weapons for no purpose or they will destroy the three worlds. These weapons should only be used against powerful foes in battle. Do not be so rash.”
Nārada turned to Yudhiṣṭhira, “O Ajātaśatru, you will see all the weapons when Arjuna uses them in the war against the Kauravas.”
The brothers bowed to Nārada and he departed, along with all the gods.
1.30: Kṛṣṇa Visits the Pāṇḍavas
The Pāṇḍavas continued to dwell in Kuvera’s abode for four more years. In that celestial atmosphere they hardly felt the time at all. One day Arjuna and Bhīma approached Yudhiṣṭhira and spoke with him privately. Bhīma said, “O king of the Kurus, in order to make good your vow, we have restrained ourselves and not killed Dhṛtarāṣṭra’s sons. Rather, we have lived for eleven years in the forest, deprived of our inheritance. These past four years have not been difficult, but the time is now approaching when, in accordance with your promise, we will need to enter some habited region and live incognito. Let us therefore leave this mountain and descend again to earth.”
Bhīma said that both he and Arjuna were determined to punish Duryodhana, but feared that if they remained on the high plateaus of the heavenly Gandhamādana, they might forget the miseries the Kauravas had inflicted upon them. This would weaken their determination. “Therefore, we desire to leave now. We brothers, assisted by the infallible Kṛṣṇa, will surely help you regain your kingdom. We all desire your welfare and long to encounter your enemies in battle.”
Yudhiṣṭhira agreed that it was now time to depart. Along with Draupadī the brothers visited the various groves and lakes of Kuvera’s abode one last time, offering their respects and saying farewell. Yudhiṣṭhira then prayed to Gandhamādana Mountain, “O lord of mountains, we are ready to depart. Please grant that after we have conquered our enemies and recovered our kingdom, we may again see you at the end of our lives.”
Yudhiṣṭhira was thinking of the time when after ruling the kingdom, they would finally retire to perform asceticism and gain spiritual emancipation. Surrounded by his brothers and the Brahmins, he then began the march down the mountainside. Bhīma summoned Ghaṭotkaca and his followers and they again carried the Pāṇḍavas’ party over the difficult mountain passes. The Pāṇḍavas were sorry to leave Kuvera’s abode, but as they gazed back at its sublime beauty, their minds were delighted.
The brothers soon arrived at Badarīkā Ashram. After being greeted by the sages there, Yudhiṣṭhira dismissed Ghaṭotkaca, choosing to continue the downward journey on foot. After remaining a month with the Badarīkā sages, they set off toward Subahu’s country. They met Subahu and spent a night with him there before proceeding toward the forest Vishakayapa.
As they traveled, followed by their porters and servants, they saw charming woodlands, lakes, rivers and fields. They stopped each evening at dusk and camped wherever they were, preparing a meal from simple forest fare. Gradually they reached Vishakayapa, still within the Himālayan range, just as the monsoon season was approaching. They decided to remain in Vishakayapa until the rains passed, and then return to Kāmyaka.
On the first day of their stay at Vishakayapa, Bhīma went to explore the area. Armed with a bow and sword he wandered at his pleasure through the woods, which were frequented by Gandharvas and Siddhas. The trees rang with the sounds of exotic birds and bore fruits and blossoms in all seasons. Bhīma saw clear rivulets flowing from the mountains, creating large, transparent lakes filled with lotuses.
Wild boars rushed at the Pāṇḍava and he killed them each with a slap. He also slew numerous buffaloes and deer, piercing them with his sharp arrows. Bhīma possessed the strength of ten thousand elephants, and he sportingly uprooted and broke many large trees, clearing areas where ṛṣis could later dwell and perform sacrifices. He struck his arms and roared exultantly as he roamed about. Elephants and lions fled in fear as they heard his roars.
The ever-proud Bhīma, devoid of fatigue, filled the skies with his shouts. He crushed mountain peaks by kicking them. Ranging along the mountain side, he saw large serpents retreat into caves as they heard him approach. Bhīma pursued them along the rocky plateaus. Suddenly, he came upon a terrible-looking serpent resembling a hill. It lay coiled at the mouth of a great cave, entirely blocking its entrance. Its skin was yellow with black spots, and inside its yawning mouth were four fangs. As the snake glared about with its copper-colored eyes, its forked tongue licked the corners of its mouth.
Bhīma stopped and gazed at the serpent. It looked like a grim destroyer as it lay hissing as if to reprimand him. As Bhīma came closer, the snake suddenly seized him and entwined its coils around him. Bhīma felt his strength draining from his body, and despite his efforts, he was unable to extricate himself. He trembled and fell unconscious for several minutes.
As he returned to consciousness he considered his predicament. Who was this being? How had it succeeded in overpowering him? Bhīma again exerted himself but found that he was unable to move. Clearly this was not an ordinary snake. He decided to ask the creature its identity.
“O best of serpents, kindly tell me who you are and what you will do with me? I am Bhīmasena, Pāṇḍu’s son and Dharmarāja’s brother. With my bare hands alone I have slain in battle countless lions, tigers, buffaloes and elephants. Not even the celestials can stand against me. How is it, then, that you have succeeded in overpowering me? Is it by virtue of a particular science or boon that you possess such power?”
The serpent’s voice was solemn. “O mighty-armed one, I have been hungry for a long time. Therefore, it is my good fortune that you have arrived here. You must be the food ordained for me by the gods. Now listen as I explain how I came to live in a serpent body.
“My name is Nahusha, and I am a royal sage. After attaining heaven I was cursed by Agastya Ṛṣi and fell to earth as a snake. Thus you are my descendent, O hero, but that will not stop me from eating you. Whatever falls within my grasp during the middle of the day, be it a cow, a buffalo, or even a human, becomes my next meal.
“Agastya promised that whomever I seize will lose his strength. Thus you have been overcome by virtue of that sage’s power. Agastya also told me that I would be freed from his curse when someone could answer my questions about the relationship between the soul and the Supreme Being.”
Thinking of Kṛṣṇa, Bhīma replied, “O mighty creature, I am neither angry nor do I blame myself for this calamity. Sometimes a man may succeed in his endeavors for happiness and sometimes he may fail. Certainly the results are not in his hands and therefore he should not lament his misfortune. Who could ever be superior to destiny? Destiny is supreme and exertion made for material gains is useless.”
Bhīma said he did not grieve for his own impending death, but he felt sad for his brothers and mother. They depended on him and would surely be deprived of strength and energy when they discovered what had happened. And Duryodhana would rejoice.
Back at the Pāṇḍavas’ camp, Yudhiṣṭhira was perceiving ill omens. Jackals howled and the dreadful Vārtika bird, with its one leg, one wing and one eye, circled overhead. It screamed and vomited blood. The wind blew furiously and the four directions seemed to be ablaze. Yudhiṣṭhira felt his left eye and arm trembling and his heart palpitating. He looked about the ashram and, not seeing Bhīma, asked Draupadī, “Where is my powerful brother?”
Draupadī replied that he had been long out. Alarmed, Yudhiṣṭhira decided to go after him personally. After instructing Arjuna to guard Draupadī and the twins and to protect the Brahmins, he began to search for Bhīma in the forest. Following his footprints he soon found the smashed trees and the beasts that Bhīma had slain. He also saw a trail of bushes which had been blown over by the wind coming from Bhīma’s body as he ran after game in the forest.
Yudhiṣṭhira moved as quickly as he could and soon came to a rough place where Bhīma’s tracks seemed to end. The ground was dry and full of thorn bushes, stumps and gravel. Strong winds gusted around tall, leafless trees. Yudhiṣṭhira began to make his way up the steep incline toward the plateau above. He sensed that his brother was nearby, and he scrambled up the slope. Soon he came to the serpent’s lair. There at the entrance to the cave, Yudhiṣṭhira found Bhīma wrapped in the serpent’s coils.
Yudhiṣṭhira was amazed to see Bhīma held by a snake, and he asked, “Who is this best of serpents with a body as big as a mountain? How have you fallen into its clutches, O son of Kuntī?”
“This is the royal sage Nahusha in serpent form. O worshipful brother, he plans to eat me.”
Yudhiṣṭhira addressed Nahusha, “Kindly release my brother, O energetic one. We shall satisfy you with some other food.”
Nahusha moved slightly. “I have obtained this son of a king for my food and will not release him. You should leave this place or else I will eat you tomorrow. The sage Agastya has granted me a boon that whoever comes within my reach will become my food. You are also within my reach. I have not eaten for a long time and will not give up your brother. Nor do I want any other meal.”
Feeling pain to see Bhīma’s plight, Yudhiṣṭhira thought carefully. This being was not actually a snake but a great king and an ancestor of the Pāṇḍavas. Yudhiṣṭhira had heard of Nahusha many times. He had performed numerous sacrifices and become the emperor of the earth before finally going to heaven. After ascending to the higher regions, he must have been cursed to fall down again. Perhaps there was some condition to the curse. If Nahusha could be freed from his serpent form, then Bhīma could be released.
“O snake, under what conditions will you free my brother?”
“Intoxicated with the pride of wealth and power I insulted the Brahmins,” replied Nahusha. “I was thus cursed by Agastya and brought into this miserable state. But the sage stipulated that I would be released when I found a man capable of answering my questions on spiritual subjects. This, then, is the only way by which your brother can be freed. Answer my questions, O sinless one, and free both Bhīma and me.”
“Ask whatever you will, O serpent. I will try my best to answer.”
Yudhiṣṭhira was always glad to have the opportunity to speak about spiritual matters. For him, this forest exile had provided a welcome opportunity to hear from the ṛṣis and engage in a deep study of scripture, free from the pressures of state affairs. He had acquired an almost unrivalled knowledge of the Vedas. He listened attentively as Nahusha began to speak.
Fixing his narrow eyes upon Yudhiṣṭhira, the serpent said, “How can we recognize a true Brahmin, O King, and what is the highest object of knowledge?”
“A Brahmin is characterized by the qualities of honesty, purity, forgiveness, self-control, asceticism, knowledge and religiosity. The highest object of knowledge is the Supreme Brahman, which can be known when one has transcended all duality.”
“The qualities you have attributed to Brahmins are also found in other classes of men,” Nahusha replied doubtfully, “and how can anyone exist without experiencing happiness and distress, the basis of all duality?”
Yudhiṣṭhira smiled. It seemed the snake was already quite knowledgeable and was testing him. “If one finds these qualities in any man, then he should be known as a Brahmin no matter what his birth may have been. Happiness and distress in relationship to material objects can be transcended while still being experienced in relation to the Supreme. Material emotions are perverted reflections of original spiritual feelings.”
Nahusha was satisfied with Yudhiṣṭhira’s answer and he asked him to elaborate further. What was the use of dividing society according to caste if such divisions meant nothing? In reply, Yudhiṣṭhira explained that due to the intermixture of social classes, it had become difficult to ascertain a man’s class. Only by examining his actual qualities could a man’s class be known. Thus society should be divided on that basis only, not on the basis of birth.
Nahusha said, “O King, you are clearly acquainted with knowledge. How then can I devour your brother?”
It was obvious to Yudhiṣṭhira that Nahusha was himself highly learned. After all, he had once ruled the earth and ascended to heaven after being instructed by the sages. He thought it would be worth making inquiries from such a personality. Folding his palms and standing before Nahusha, Yudhiṣṭhira said, “I too regard you as one possessed of superior knowledge. Please instruct me, if you will. By what acts can one attain heaven?”
“In my opinion, O Bharata, one can reach heaven by giving charity to Brahmins, by being kind and gentle in speech, by truthfulness, and by remaining nonenvious toward all living beings.”
“Which of those acts do you consider the best, and what constitutes non-envy?”
“Each of these items can be considered superior or inferior depending upon circumstance. One must therefore understand life’s ultimate goal in order to know how to act properly at all times. This you have already explained, O King. All acts and knowledge should be aimed at achieving the Supreme.
“Non-envy means always desiring the welfare and advancement of all living beings rather than to exploit them for one’s own pleasure. In particular, one should desire the spiritual progress of others and act to assist them in that progress.”
“How does the soul accept a material body, O Nahusha?”
“The soul, or atman, receives bodies according to his own behavior. Thus he transmigrates life after life, impelled by his sinful and pious acts, sometimes going to heaven and sometimes moving about in the body of an animal. Final liberation is attained when one comes to know Brahman, the Supreme Absolute.”
Yudhiṣṭhira nodded. The snake’s answers were in accord with what he had learned from the ṛṣis. Clearly Nahusha had deep spiritual realizations. How then had he become a snake?
Nahusha replied, “By sacrifice and asceticism I became so powerful that I coursed through the heavens on a golden chariot. I became emperor of the wide earth and even the Gandharvas, Yakṣas, Rākṣasas, and all the inhabitants of the three worlds--even the ṛṣis--payed me taxes. Such was my power that I withdrew the energy of anyone simply by looking at them. Then my pride overwhelmed me and I lost my good sense. My knowledge became covered by the ignorance born of pride. I ordered the Brahmin sages to draw my chariot and thus offended them.
“One day while in heaven, I touched Agastya Ṛṣi with my foot. The sage cursed me and I fell to earth, my body changing into that of a serpent.
“In accord with Agastya’s words, however, you have now freed me from that curse. My discussion with you has reawakened my knowledge. I now realize that my real interest lies in cultivating Brahminical qualities and spiritual knowledge, not in material status or opulence.”
Nahusha released Bhīma and the serpent body immediately died. From out of it the two brothers saw a glowing celestial figure emerge wearing golden ornaments and beautiful garlands. He bowed before the Pāṇḍavas and then rose into the sky and disappeared.
Yudhiṣṭhira and Bhīma returned to the ashram and recounted the incident to the others. When Yudhiṣṭhira had finished, the Brahmins reprimanded the now sheepish Bhīma for his rashness in having challenged the serpent and warned him not to be so foolish again.
* * *
Within days of their arrival at Vishakhayapa, the monsoons arrived. They set up their camp on high ground and watched as the rains fell and flooded the earth. They could no longer see the sun. Bolts of lightning lit the forest, while streams of frothing water rushed across the earth, hissing like flights of arrows. All the forest creatures became delighted and frolicked in the rain-soaked woods.
Gradually the season turned to autumn. The clouds dispersed and the sky was lustrous. The days were warm and the nights cool. The Pāṇḍavas surveyed the refreshed forest scenery and decided that it was an auspicious time--the sacred month of Kārttika--to return to Kāmyaka.
A few days after their arrival, Kṛṣṇa and Satyabhāmā came to visit. Kṛṣṇa knew they had returned to the Kāmyaka by His inconceivable powers.
The Pāṇḍavas were overjoyed to see their well-wishing friend. With tears in their eyes they rose up to greet Him. Kṛṣṇa got down from His chariot and bowed at Yudhiṣṭhira and Bhīma’s feet, as well as the feet of Dhaumya and the Brahmins. He embraced Arjuna and accepted the twins’ obeisances. Satyabhāmā embraced Draupadī and when she and her husband were comfortably seated among the Pāṇḍavas, they all began to converse.
Arjuna told Kṛṣṇa of everything that had transpired with him since their last meeting. He then inquired after Kṛṣṇa and His family’s welfare, asking especially about his wife Subhadrā and their son Abhimanyu. Kṛṣṇa assured him that all was well. Turning to Yudhiṣṭhira He said, “O King, the wise assert that righteousness is superior to winning kingdoms, and to cultivate righteousness, asceticism is necessary. In strict obedience to truth you have performed your duties and you have thus conquered both this world and the next. You are not addicted to sensual pleasures, nor do you act out of selfishness. Although you have won opulent kingdoms and been surrounded by luxury, you have not swayed from your practices of charity, truthfulness, asceticism, religion, forgiveness and patience.”
Yudhiṣṭhira bowed his head modestly as Kṛṣṇa continued. “Who but you, O Dharmarāja, could have tolerated the outrage toward Draupadī, so very odious to virtue? There can be no doubt that you will recover your kingdom in due course. When your vow is fulfilled and the thirteen years have passed, we shall do everything in our power to chastise the Kauravas.”
Kṛṣṇa spoke kindly to Draupadī, saying that it was by good fortune she had obtained such virtuous men as her husbands. He gave her news of her sons, who were staying in Drupada’s kingdom and who also spent time in Dwārakā where Subhadrā showered them with motherly love. Kṛṣṇa’s own son Pradyumna was instructing all the Pāṇḍavas’ sons in the martial arts.
When Kṛṣṇa fell silent, Yudhiṣṭhira said, “O Keśava, there is no doubt that You are our highest refuge. We are always under Your protection. When the time comes, You will surely do everything to restore to us our kingdom.”
Then they saw Mārkaṇḍeya Ṛṣi approaching. That immortal sage, who appeared like a youth of no more than sixteen years, was cheerful, dressed only in a loincloth and holding a water pot. The Pāṇḍavas, Kṛṣṇa, and all the Brahmins stood to offer respect, then offered Mārkaṇḍeya a seat of honor. After he had been worshiped with arghya and presented with sweet water and forest fruits, Kṛṣṇa said, “We all wish to hear your most excellent words. Kindly narrate to us the ancient histories of virtuous kings and ṛṣis, replete with moral and spiritual instruction.”
At that moment, Nārada also arrived and was received. He too wished to hear Mārkaṇḍeya speak in Kṛṣṇa’s presence. With those two personalities sitting amid the Pāṇḍavas and the numerous Brahmins, it seemed as if the sun and moon were seated together in the presence of the planets. Everyone waited for Mārkaṇḍeya to speak. They all knew that the sage had lived since the beginning of the material creation and was therefore acquainted with countless histories of great sages and kings. The Supreme Lord Nārāyaṇa had personally instructed him and thus he possessed profound spiritual understanding.
Yudhiṣṭhira asked, “Please tell me, O highly learned one, how a man receives the results of his own deeds. I am mystified upon seeing how I have been deprived of my kingdom while Dhṛtarāṣṭra’s sinful sons prosper. Does one receive the results of his actions during the same life, or do they visit him only in a later existence? How do the results of a man’s acts follow him after death? Where do they repose when he gives up his body?”
Mārkaṇḍeya remained silent for a moment. He looked around at the concourse of people assembled in the forest clearing. It seemed as if Yudhiṣṭhira were still in Indraprastha, seated in his assembly hall. Raising his right hand, the sage then replied, “The embodied soul travels from life to life as a result of his own acts, good and bad. At no time is the soul without a body as long as he remains within this world trying to enjoy his senses. The soul is covered first by a subtle body made of mind, intelligence, and false ego. The subtle body carries the recollection of every experience the soul has ever had, and thus assumes various gross material forms. Yamarāja controls all of this. Indeed, Yamarāja keeps track of every soul within the material universe. He is empowered by the all-knowing Supreme Soul who resides in the heart of every living being. Thus does Yamarāja award all beings their just desserts. He never makes a mistake in this regard.”
Mārkaṇḍeya paused to allow his listeners to absorb what he was saying. “Some men enjoy in this life but not in the next, some in the next but not in this, and others in both. Some men enjoy neither in this life nor in the next.
“A wealthy man who spends this life in pleasure will suffer in the next; an ascetic who forgoes pleasure in this life will enjoy in the next; those who marry and live pious lives as householders, performing sacrifice and giving charity, enjoy both in this life and the next; but the foolish man who follows no scriptural injunctions suffers continuously life after life.
“As far as you brothers are concerned, you are virtuous and have been born only to fulfill the gods’ purposes. You are great devotees of the Supreme Lord and thus cannot be affected by karmic reactions. Your apparent setback will ultimately lead to your everlasting fame and happiness. You will be glorified in the world of men, and at the end of your lives, you will attain the highest abode.”
Yudhiṣṭhira reflected on the sage’s reply. Then he asked, “O learned sage, in this world our lives are dedicated to the Brahmins. If it pleases you, kindly tell us about a Brahmin’s greatness and glory.”
In response the ṛṣi recounted numerous ancient histories. His audience was rapt in wonder. He also described the creation of the universe, which he had personally witnessed, and the nature of the destruction that occurs at the end of Brahmā’s day, a period of millions of years. He described how he had floated on the causal water out of which creation occurs, as it rose and covered the lower and middle planets. At the end of that inundation, he had seen a wonderful child lying on a banyan leaf.
“I was struck with amazement. I could not understand how a child could have survived when the entire universe was destroyed. The boy was effulgent and His face was as beautiful as the moon. His eyes resembled full-blown lotuses and His body was a blackish color. He lay there smiling and sucking His toe. Then on His chest I saw the mark of śrīvatsa and thought that it must be Viṣṇu, although I could not be sure. As I approached Him He said, ‘My child, I know you are eager to rest. O Mārkaṇḍeya, enter My body and rest awhile. I am pleased with you.’
“When the boy addressed me I lost all sense of my identity and forgot my material designations. He opened His mouth and I felt myself drawn into it. Suddenly entering His stomach I beheld the whole earth with all its cities and kingdoms. I wandered about for some time, seeing all the familiar sights, including the Ganges and her tributaries, the Himālayas, and the forests in which I had performed ascetism. I also saw the race of celestials headed by Indra, as well as the races of kṣatriyas, vaiśyās, and śūdras.
“Although I wandered about within that boy’s body for a long time I never did find its limit. Confused, I began to worship the Supreme Lord with my thoughts and words. Suddenly, I found myself emerging again and once more I saw Him lying on the banyan leaf. I worshipped that immeasurably powerful being who had swallowed up the entire universe, and I placed my head at His feet. I asked Him who He was and about His purpose. Why was He lying there with the universe held in His body?
“The child spoke in such a way that my material illusions were completely dispelled. He told me that He was the original Supreme Person from whom everything emanates and into whom it enters at its end. I was amazed to hear Him speak of His own glories. He is known as Viṣṇu, Nārāyaṇa and Hari, but He possesses innumerable other names. That all-knowing personality then told me that I should remain within His body until Brahmā again awoke and recreated the universe. He disappeared from my sight and I found myself back within the varied creation I had seen within Him.”
Finishing his narration, Mārkaṇḍeya looked across at Kṛṣṇa. “King Yudhiṣṭhira, that lotus-eyed boy whom I saw at the end of the creation has now appeared as Kṛṣṇa. He has become your relative and friend. Without doubt you should know Him to be the ancient Supreme Person, the inconceivable Hari, and the original Personality of Godhead. He granted me the boon that my memory would never fail and that my death would come only when I wanted it. Seeing Kṛṣṇa sitting here wearing a yellow silken garment, I am remembering that boy. Do not doubt that it was He whom I saw in the waters of devastation. O hero among men, this entire creation rests within Him even as air rests within ether. Take refuge in Kṛṣṇa, for there are none superior to Him.”
Hearing the ṛṣi’s words, the Pāṇḍavas bowed down before Kṛṣṇa. Kṛṣṇa smiled gently and spoke comforting words to them. He glanced affectionately at Mārkaṇḍeya, who gazed back at Kṛṣṇa with love.
Yudhiṣṭhira then asked Mārkaṇḍeya to describe the future. Kali-yuga, the darkest age was approaching. Yudhiṣṭhira wanted to know what would happen to the world at that time. Mārkaṇḍeya told him in detail how everything would become more and more degraded. People would become irreligious and would thus be oppressed by misery. The age would culminate in the appearance of Kalki avatāra, who would restore order to the world and bring about Satya-yuga, the golden age.
Yudhiṣṭhira and Mārkaṇḍeya discoursed for hours and the audience remained fixed on hearing Mārkaṇḍeya’s detailed responses, replete with accounts of the different kings, sages, and the celestials who had lived throughout the ages. As evening approached, Yudhiṣṭhira finally stopped asking questions. Along with his brothers he worshipped Mārkaṇḍeya. Then the ṛṣi took his leave. Nārada also left at that time, ascending into the skyways.
When Mārkaṇḍeya was gone, Kṛṣṇa spent a little more time talking with the Pāṇḍavas. Satyabhāmā took the opportunity to speak with Draupadī and ask her how she was able to serve and satisfy five husbands. Kṛṣṇa’s wife wanted to learn from the Pañchāla princess, who was famed for her chastity and womanly skills, so that she might improve her own service to Kṛṣṇa. Draupadī told her in detail about the many ways she served her husbands.
Draupadī said, “Abandoning vanity and subduing desire and wrath, I serve my husbands with attention, along with their other wives. I do not feel my position of servitude to be a degraded one, and I restrain jealousy by remaining devoted. I neither bathe, sleep, nor eat before my husbands, or even before our servants and followers. At no time do I allow my mind to dwell upon another man or any celestial. My heart never sways from my husbands. The minute I see them I rise up and greet them, offering them a seat and water. I always keep our living quarters clean and fragrant, and all the household items and food well-ordered.”
Satyabhāmā, herself a great favorite of Kṛṣṇa’s, listened attentively. Draupadī described how she would never enjoy anything her husbands did not enjoy, nor would she perform any act disagreeable to them. When they went away, she renounced her ornaments and cosmetics and practiced asceticism. She tried always to assist her husbands as they performed sacrifices and other religious practices.
“I am the first to rise from bed and the last to take rest. I am ever attentive to my duty and never give way to sloth. In my opinion, service to the husband is the eternal virtue of women. The husband is the wife’s god and her sole refuge. By serving him, she pleases even the Supreme Lord Himself and thereby attains to the highest destination.”
When Draupadī finished, Satyabhāmā embraced her. She heard Kṛṣṇa calling her and so took her leave, promising to come to Indraprastha after the Pāṇḍavas had regained their kingdom.
Kṛṣṇa bid farewell to the Pāṇḍavas and was ready to depart. He and Satyabhāmā mounted the chariot, which was yoked with Śaibya and Sugrīva. Seeing Draupadī standing before him so meekly, Kṛṣṇa said, “O Draupadī, do not be in anxiety. Before long you will be the wife of kings--after your husbands have crushed their enemies and won back the earth. O black-eyed beauty, ladies such as yourself, possessed of all auspicious marks, can never suffer for long. The Kauravas will soon reap the results of their sins against you. When they have been destroyed, you will see their wives despairing, even as you despaired upon leaving Hastināpura.”
Kṛṣṇa once more assured Draupadī that her five sons were flourishing and that she would soon see them grown up, powerful heroes. Then, saluting the Pāṇḍavas and bowing to the Brahmins, Kṛṣṇa urged on His horses and left the forest.
(Continued ...)
(My humble salutations to the lotus feet of Brahmasree Krishna Dharma and Bramhasree Manmatha Dutt and I am most grateful to Swamyjis, Philosophic Scholars and Ascetic Org. for the collection of this great and wornderful Epic of the world. )
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