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
Adiparva – Section 56 and Sloka 33
"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."
The Mahābhārata
The Mahabharata
The Pāṇḍavas Sent Away
During the weeks that followed, Duryodhana and his brothers slowly began to win over the people. They distributed wealth and honors liberally and provided the citizens with all kinds of amenities and pleasures. At the same time, Dhṛtarāṣṭra’s ministers spoke continuously in the court about Vāraṇāvata, as they had been instructed by the king. The Pāṇḍavas heard them describe the city’s attractions. “The festival of Pāśupāta is starting soon. The procession has no equal anywhere in the world. The decorations, gems, jewels and entertainments delight the heart.”
The young princes were attracted. When Dhṛtarāṣṭra saw that their curiosity had been aroused, he said, “I have been hearing a lot about Vāraṇāvata of late. It occurred to me that you boys would derive much pleasure from visiting that city. Why not make a state visit? Bestow charity on the people and take your leisure. After enjoying yourselves there, you may return here whenever you please.”
Yudhiṣṭhira, however, was intelligent; he understood that this was simply a ploy to remove them from the city. Why did the king not ask his own sons to go to Vāraṇāvata? Yudhiṣṭhira had seen the unusual kindness that Duryodhana had been displaying toward the people lately, and he knew that he was hatching a plot. But he felt helpless. He decided it would be better to do as the king suggested for the time being. Their position was not strong. The Pāṇḍavas had few friends or supporters and the king’s sons were constantly inclined to harm them in any way they could. Perhaps a time away from Hastināpura would help.
A date was set for the Pāṇḍava’s departure. Duryodhana was overjoyed that the Pāṇḍavas had agreed to go, and immediately began to make plans. He summoned his confidential counselor, Purochana. Taking him by the hand, the prince said, “This world and all its wealth is as much yours as it is mine. You should act so it will be protected. You are my most trustworthy supporter. I am completely dependent on you. Listen as I tell you what must be done, and done secretly. Do not repeat to anyone what I shall now say to you.”
Duryodhana asked Purochana to go at once to Vāraṇāvata. Using skilled and trusted artisans, he should construct a spacious mansion for the Pāṇḍavas. It should be elegant and full of rich furnishings, but it should be made entirely of flammable materials. “Mix ghee and oil with earth and a large quantity of lac. Plaster the walls with it and then paint over it carefully. Then scent the house so no one will suspect anything.”
The prince also instructed Purochana to leave pots of ghee and oil in the house. He wanted to ensure that the building would burn to ashes within minutes. Duryodhana then revealed to Purochana the whole plan he had made with Śakuni. Purochana should meet the Pāṇḍavas as soon as they arrived in Vāraṇāvata. He should then show them to their quarters. He should be sure they knew that the house had been built for them on the king’s orders. Purochana should live with them to help allay their suspicions. Then, when they were least suspecting it, Purochana should set fire to the house while they were asleep.
Duryodhana squeezed his minister’s hand. “Everything depends upon you, Purochana. Know that I shall reward you with unlimited wealth if you do me this favor. Leave immediately, for the Pāṇḍavas will be there soon.”
Purochana promised to do everything he had been asked. Gathering a number of his men, he left immediately for Vāraṇāvata on a swift chariot drawn by asses. They began work on the house the moment they arrived.
On the day of their departure, the Pāṇḍavas went before their elders and bowed down in respect. They touched Bhīṣma and Dhṛtarāṣṭra’s feet, and embraced their equals with love. Taking leave of the ladies, they walked respectfully around them with folded palms. Then they mounted their fine, golden chariots. The citizens crowded around them as they made preparations to leave, then followed the chariots as they slowly made their way out of the city. The young princes felt sorrow at leaving their homes and loved ones. Seeing their grief, some of the people spoke out. One Brahmin said, “King Dhṛtarāṣṭra does not have equal vision. He favors his sons over these virtuous princes. Pāṇḍu’s sons will never commit any sin. They are blameless and pure and do not deserve to be sent away.” Some of the people censured Bhīṣma for allowing it to happen, while others condemned the blind king and his son. Many of them declared that they would go with the Pāṇḍavas to Vāraṇāvata rather than remain with the cruel-minded monarch.
But Yudhiṣṭhira checked them. “The king is our father, our preceptor and our superior. He is always worthy of our worship and should be obeyed without question. This is the eternal injunction of scripture and we should abide by it with a peaceful mind.” When the time came, he said, they could render his brothers and him service in another way. The citizens then circumambulated the chariots and departed, tears flooding their eyes.
When the Pāṇḍavas reached the edge of the city, Vidura met them. Vidura had learned of Duryodhana’s scheme through his palace spies. He wanted to warn Yudhiṣṭhira without anyone else understanding his message. Going before the prince who was still in the people’s midst, he spoke to him in the language of the mleccha tribes people. Speaking cryptically, Vidura said, “One who knows there are sharp weapons capable of cutting the body although not made of metal is not injured by them. He survives who understands that the consumer of wood and straw does not reach the dwellers of a hole in the forest. Always stay alert. One who keeps his senses under control can never be overcome by any enemy.”
Vidura spoke for some minutes and Yudhiṣṭhira, who was versed in many languages, understood his meaning, although the message was not understandable by others. When Vidura finished, Yudhiṣṭhira replied, “I understand.” Vidura smiled, then walked respectfully around the princes. Bidding them farewell, he left for his own house.
On the road to Vāraṇāvata, Kuntī asked Yudhiṣṭhira what Vidura had said. Yudhiṣṭhira replied that Vidura had told him that their house in Vāraṇāvata would be burned down. He had also told the prince that the means of escape would be revealed to him. “The learned Vidura then said that he who is self-controlled wins the sovereignty of the earth.”
When the citizens of Vāraṇāvata heard that the famous Pāṇḍava brothers were approaching their city, they came out in the thousands to greet the princes. The people saw Yudhiṣṭhira leading his brothers, like Indra leading the celestials. They worshipped and welcomed the princes and led them into their city to the accompaniment of trumpets, drums and conchshells. Cheers filled the air as the brothers proceeded slowly along the road. Reaching the city’s main concourse, they got down from their chariots and went first to meet the Brahmins. Then they met with the city officials, then the warriors, the trades people and finally the workers and servant classes.
After the greetings were over, the Pāṇḍavas were received as guests of one of the city’s chief officials. Remembering Vidura’s warning and unsure of what to expect, they remained there for ten days. Then Purochana told them that their own residence was ready. He personally led the princes and Kuntī to the house he had named ‘The Blessed Dwelling’. As they entered the house Yudhiṣṭhira said quietly to Bhīma, “From the odors I detect here it is evident that this house has been made of lac and other materials soaked in ghee and oil. Without doubt Purochana intends to burn us to death in this place. It is just as Vidura told me. Duryodhana has obviously entrusted Purochana with the job of killing us.”
Bhīma replied, “Then why should we live in this death-trap? Let us return to where we have already been staying.”
Yudhiṣṭhira did not think Bhīma’s idea to be a wise one. “If we let Purochana realize we suspect him, then he may try anything in order to kill us. Obviously he is without scruples and is determined to do the will of the ruthless Duryodhana. We should not give him any indication that we are aware of his wicked intentions.”
When Purochana left the brothers spoke openly together. Yudhiṣṭhira said they should dig a tunnel under the house in order to escape when the time came. That was what Vidura had instructed. Bhīma and Arjuna wondered why they should live in fear of Duryodhana. Why not challenge him outright? Bhīma was especially angry, remembering the times when Duryodhana had tried to poison him. He slapped his biceps and said menacingly, “Just order me, dear brother, and I shall immediately crush the Kauravas with my bare hands.”
No, Yudhiṣṭhira said, their position was in no way equal to that of their cousins. “They are one hundred and we are five. They have rank, power, friends, allies and wealth. Dhṛtarāṣṭra will never abandon his sons, and Bhīṣma and Droṇa will always stand by the king. We cannot challenge the Kurus directly.”
The twins suggested that they immediately fly from Vāraṇāvata. Yudhiṣṭhira again disagreed. “Once he knows we are running in fear, Duryodhana will use spies and agents to find us and kill us by any devious means.”
Yudhiṣṭhira decided that their best hope lay in living in the lac house seemingly unaware of the danger. Remaining constantly alert, they should prepare an escape tunnel under the house. They should also spend their days hunting in the woods and looking for a route that would take them away from the city. When Purochana set light to the house, they could escape without anyone knowing. Duryodhana would think them dead and would not then pursue them.
His brothers agreed. They then searched the house for a place to dig the tunnel. As they were looking, a man came to the house and introduced himself as a friend of Vidura. He told Yudhiṣṭhira that he was a skilled miner and had been sent there by Vidura, who had informed him that on a new moon night, Purochana planned to set light to the door of their house.
Yudhiṣṭhira looked at the man carefully. Was this yet another of Duryodhana’s deceits? The miner reassured him by mentioning the incident when Vidura had spoken to him in the mleccha dialect. Yudhiṣṭhira then welcomed him warmly and replied, “We are ever protected by the virtuous Vidura. It is our good fortune that you have come here. The wicked and sinful Duryodhana has had this house constructed from all sorts of flammable materials. In command of wealth and allies he pursues us relentlessly.”
The miner said he would begin construction of a subterranean passage immediately. He began to dig from the center of the house and covered the hole with planks and a large rug.
As the miner worked, the Pāṇḍavas spent their days wandering in the surrounding woods. They soon ascertained a route leading away from Vāraṇāvata through the forest. While living in the house the brothers gave to Purochana the appearance of being peaceful and happy so as not to arouse his suspicions, but at night they slept with their arms at the ready, one of them always remaining alert in case Purochana made an unexpected move. No one but the miner knew of their plans.
A full year passed in this way. Purochana was satisfied, thinking the Pāṇḍavas unaware of his intentions. When Yudhiṣṭhira saw that the minister suspected nothing and trusted them completely, he said to his brothers, “Let us pre-empt Purochana before he can enact his plan. I think we should ourselves set light to the house and make our escape.”
The tunnel was complete. Yudhiṣṭhira considered that their best hope lay in deceiving Duryodhana into thinking his plan had succeeded. That would allow the brothers to escape without being pursued. They would then have time to consider their next move. After discussing all the angles, the brothers decided that they would set fire to the house the next night.
The following day a festival was being celebrated in Vāraṇāvata. Kuntī distributed food and wealth to the Brahmins, and many poor people came to the Pāṇḍavas’ mansion to beg charity. By the arrangement of Providence, a niṣāda tribeswoman also arrived with her five sons. The servants Kuntī had placed in charge of distributing the food sat the woman and her sons down, then brought them food and a large quantity of wine. Gradually they became drunk and fell asleep where they had been eating. The servants, unable to rouse them, decided to leave them there for the night, although the Pāṇḍavas were unaware of this.
Outside as night fell, a storm blew up. The Pāṇḍavas sat together in their room waiting until they were sure that Purochana, who occupied the room by the door of the house, was asleep. Yudhiṣṭhira then instructed Bhīma to set the house on fire. Bhīma then took a torch and lit the door and several other places, as his brothers and Kuntī made their way along the tunnel. He followed them quickly, and in moments the whole house was ablaze.
Hearing the roar of the fire, the citizens of Vāraṇāvata all came out and saw with horror the blazing mansion. They were aware of the rivalry between Duryodhana and the Pāṇḍavas and they immediately guessed what had happened. “This is undoubtedly Duryodhana’s doing,” they said. “He has employed his evil minister to destroy the innocent and unsuspecting sons of Pāṇḍu. Fie upon that wicked man, whose understanding is so crooked!”
The bewailing people of the city surrounded the burning mansion and remained through the night. When morning came they threw water onto the embers and searched the burnt-out ruins. They found the remains of Purochana and also of the niṣāda woman and her sons. Concluding that the Pāṇḍavas were dead they lamented loudly, censuring Duryodhana and his father. Some of them even condemned Bhīṣma, Droṇa and the other Kuru elders for allowing such a terrible thing to happen.
The miner, who was present among the citizens, ensured that the searchers did not find the tunnel. Thus no one in Vāraṇāvata even guessed that the Pāṇḍavas were alive, and that they were at that time making their way through the forest. The city leaders then sent messengers to Hastināpura with the news of the Pāṇḍavas’ death.
When Dhṛtarāṣṭra heard the messengers from Vāraṇāvata he cried out in grief. “Alas, my brother Pāṇḍu has died again today because his heroic sons and their illustrious mother have been killed. What a cruel destiny! How can I face life without my gentle nephews?”
Dhṛtarāṣṭra then ordered that the royal Brahmins go immediately to Vāraṇāvata to perform the funeral rites for Kuntī and her sons. Along with Bhīṣma, Droṇa, Kṛpa and the other elders, the king went to the Ganges to offer sacred water to the departed souls. As they stood in the river they cried out, “O Yudhiṣṭhira! O Bhīma! O Arjuna!” Others called out the names of Kuntī and the twins. Thousands of grieving citizens came out of Hastināpura to offer oblations. Sounds of wailing and sorrow filled the air. Bhīṣma was particularly afflicted as he remembered the young princes, who had always been like sons to him. Only Vidura did not lament, as he knew the truth. But still, he did not speak about it to anyone. He knew he could not risk telling even Bhīṣma, who was always loyal to the king and Hastināpura.
* * *
The Pāṇḍavas and Kuntī emerged from their tunnel some distance from Vāraṇāvata. As their eyes became accustomed to the darkness they proceeded in the direction they had already charted. They were tired and afraid, and they found it difficult to hurry. Seeing this, the tireless Bhīma lifted them all onto his vast frame. To everyone’s astonishment, he placed his mother on his shoulders, the twins on his two sides and Yudhiṣṭhira and Arjuna on each arm, then ran through the forest, knocking down trees and treading down bushes and brambles.
At dawn they arrived at the Ganges, where another of Vidura’s emissaries met them. This man was sitting in a boat and he called out to the Pāṇḍavas as they stood measuring the depth of the river with a stone tied to a creeper. Startled, the brothers looked around. Yudhiṣṭhira approached the man in the boat, who told them that he been told by Vidura to wait there for them. He had been there every night for months, carefully watching for signs of the brothers. The man assured Yudhiṣṭhira of his credentials by repeating to him the conversation the prince had had with Vidura in the mleccha tongue. Explaining that he had come to ferry them across the river and help them on their way, the man said, “Vidura has sent his embrace and said that you will surely be victorious over your enemies. He said that you should remain always alert and depend upon the Lord, by whose arrangement auspiciousness will always attend you. Get into this boat quickly and I shall take you far from here.”
Propelled by an engine and sails, the boat moved swiftly through the flowing river toward the south. The Pāṇḍavas journeyed for some hours and were finally set down on the opposite bank near a broad path leading into the woods. The boatman wished them success and departed, taking with him a message of thanks for Vidura.
The brothers continued south. They soon entered a dense forest. Feeling tired and hungry, they sat down. Yudhiṣṭhira said in an anguished voice, “What could be more painful? Here we are lost in some deep and fearful forest. We do not know if the sinful Purochana has somehow survived and informed Duryodhana of our escape. What dangers lay ahead for us now?”
Kuntī was exhausted and could walk no further. She sat on a tree root, glancing around fearfully. Her sons searched about for a way to go deeper into the jungle. It appeared virtually impregnable with its huge trees and bushes enmeshed in a tight network of creepers. The cries of birds and animals filled the air. Yudhiṣṭhira gazed into the forest and said to Bhīma, “O mighty son of Vāyu, you must again carry us into these dreadful woods. I can see no other way for us to continue.”
Bhīma bowed his head in respect to his elder brother. Once again he placed his mother and four brothers on his powerful body. When they were all holding on tightly, he ran straight into the forest. He bounded high into the air and broke trees with his feet, clearing a path as he progressed. Tall flowering trees fell on all sides with great cracking sounds, sending up showers of blossoms. Forest animals fled in all directions as the prince crashed through the woods. He seemed like an angry elephant king charging through the jungle. So swift was his movement that Kuntī and her sons almost fainted. Still carrying the five of them, Bhīma also swam the streams and lakes that crossed his path.
As evening fell they stopped for the night under the shelter of a large banyan tree. Bhīma set down his mother and brothers and they fell to the ground overwhelmed by fatigue, hunger and thirst. Kuntī asked Bhīma to bring her some water. He replied, “I hear the sweet singing of waterfowl not far from here. Undoubtedly there is a lake nearby.”
The unflagging Bhīma went at once toward the sound and soon found the lake. After bathing and drinking deeply, he soaked his upper garment and went back to the banyan tree. But by the time he returned his mother and brothers had fallen into a deep sleep. Seeing them lying on the bare ground, Bhīma lamented to himself. “What more painful sight could there be? Here are my five brothers, who could not even sleep in Vāraṇāvata on the costliest of beds, sleeping now on the cold earth. My gentle mother, as delicate and resplendent as the filament of a lotus flower, lies exhausted on the hard forest floor.”
Bhīma wrang his hands in anguish and frustration. If only the Kauravas were present before him now. They would regret their treachery. It was only by the grace of God that Yudhiṣṭhira did not command him to kill them all. Bhīma looked at his sleeping elder brother. Surely he deserved to rule the entire earth. He never abandoned virtue or gave way to anger. Only because of this were the Kauravas still alive.
Bhīma sighed and looked around. They had traveled many miles through the forest. Perhaps there was a town or village not far away. He would remain awake guarding his brothers and in the morning they could continue. The prince sat on a root of the banyan tree with his mind and senses alert to danger.
Not far from where the brothers had stopped was a massive sal tree on which lived a Rākṣasa named Hiḍimba. He had slept through the day and was just awakening as the Pāṇḍavas were falling asleep. Yawning and stretching his enormous arms, he sniffed the night air. At once he detected the scent of humans nearby. He sat up quickly and called out to his sister, who lived on the same tree. “Hiḍimbī! Wake up. I smell human flesh. It has been a long time since we tasted our favorite food. My mouth is already watering. Quickly find the humans and, after killing them, bring them here. Tearing their necks with my long fangs I shall quaff their hot, foaming blood. Both of us shall eat our fill and then dance happily.”
The Rākṣasa woman shook her long, orange hair and opened her blood-red eyes. She cackled and looked at the long claws protruding from her black fingers. Hiḍimbī and her brother had often slain and eaten hapless travelers. Swinging down from the branch she went silently through the trees, following the scent. In a few minutes she arrived at the spot where the Pāṇḍavas lay. The Rākṣasī saw the invincible Bhīma seated nearby. As soon as her eyes fell upon him, her heart was moved by desire. The prince looked like a god. His skin was the color of molten gold and his shoulders resembled those of a lion. His neck resembled a conch and his eyes were like large lotus petals.
Hiḍimbī decided immediately that he should be her husband. If she killed him, she and her brother would enjoy the brief pleasure of eating his flesh; but if she united with him, her pleasure would be far greater. Deciding to ignore her brother’s order, Hiḍimbī assumed the form of a beautiful woman. Decorated with celestial ornaments and clothed in crimson silks, she walked slowly up to Bhīma. With a bashful smile she said, “O best of men, who are you and what brings you to this dark and dangerous forest? Who are these godlike men laying on the ground, and who is that woman of transcendent beauty lying with them?”
Bhīma looked at her in surprise. Was she the forest deity? What was such a beautiful woman doing alone at night in such a place? He listened carefully as Hiḍimbī continued. “This forest belongs to my brother Hiḍimba, a powerful man-eating Rākṣasa. With the intention of eating your flesh he sent me here to kill you.”
She raised her hand as Bhīma suddenly stood up. “Do not fear. I have been smitten with desire upon seeing you, who are as handsome as a god. Please accept me as your wife, for I am being victimized by Cupid’s shafts.”
Hiḍimbī told Bhīma that she would save him from her brother. She would carry him through the sky and far away from Hiḍimba. Then they could enjoy together in a celestial mountain region.
Bhīma sat down again. He shook his head. “O Rākṣasī, how do you expect me to abandon my sleeping mother and brothers simply to gratify my lust?”
Hiḍimbī looked down at the sleeping Pāṇḍavas and Kuntī. “Wake them up. I shall carry you all away from this place.”
Bhīma shook his head again. “I shall not wake my mother and brothers out of fear of any Rākṣasa. There is no Rākṣasa, Yakṣa or Gandharva able to withstand my strength. O beautifully shaped lady, you may stay or go as you please. Or if you like you may send your man-eating brother to me.”
As they were speaking together, Hiḍimba was becoming impatient. Where was his foolish sister? Why had she not returned? The Rākṣasa jumped down from his tree and moved toward the human scent.
Hiḍimbī sensed her brother’s approach and she became alarmed. She pleaded with Bhīma. “Please do not argue with me. My brother is coming. Do not tarry here and become his meal. Wake up the others and allow me to rescue all of you.”
Bhīma simply smiled. “This cannibal presents no problem to me. Indeed I shall kill him here before your eyes. Do not consider me an ordinary human being. My two arms are like the trunks of mighty elephants and my thighs resemble iron clubs. My prowess is no less than Indra himself. I fear nothing.”
Hiḍimbī was still doubtful. She had seen the Rākṣasa giants prove their superiority over men on many occasions. They were more on a level with the celestials than with humans. It was a rare human who could overpower a Rākṣasa.
Bhīma looked over Hiḍimbī’s shoulder and saw her brother approaching. He was as dark as a rain cloud and he had hideous features. His ears were shaped like arrows and the shock of red hair on his head stood erect. His powerful body, clad in a loin cloth, was covered in wiry red hair. The Rākṣasa was as tall as a tree and had broad shoulders. His arms, thick like tree trunks, reached down to his knees. His huge mouth was open, revealing rows of fearful fangs. He opened his crimson eyes in surprise as he saw his sister standing in a human form next to Bhīma. Seeing her so beautifully bedecked with celestial ornaments, Hiḍimba immediately understood that she had become lustful toward the human. He spoke angrily.
“Who is so foolish as to create obstacles for me when I am hungry? O sister, have you become so senseless that you do not fear my anger? Fie upon you, O unchaste woman! Simply out of lust you are ready to do me an injury and sacrifice the very honor of our race. I shall kill you along with these humans.”
Pressing his teeth together, Hiḍimba ran at his sister with his arms raised. Bhīma stood up at once and stepped forward. His voice boomed out. “Stop! How dare you awaken my peacefully sleeping brothers. Nor should you attack this innocent woman. O wicked-minded one, your sister is not in control of herself. She has been brought under Cupid’s control. Therefore, she should not be punished.”
Bhīma smiled scornfully at the cannibal. Challenging him to a fight, the prince said, “Today you shall reach the land of the dead. I will pound your head to pieces. Your sister shall see me drag your mountain-like frame even as a lion drags an elephant. Hawks, vultures and jackals will then gleefully tear apart your corpse. Today this forest shall be rendered safe for all travelers.”
Hiḍimba flared up. He laughed at the human’s impudence. Advancing toward Bhīma, the cannibal screamed, “What use is this boasting? First accomplish all this and then speak. You think yourself strong but you shall learn the truth today. For now your brothers may sleep peacefully. First I shall kill you, O foul-mouthed one. After drinking your blood I will then slay the others.”
The Rākṣasa rushed at Bhīma with his arms outstretched. Bhīma immediately seized the giant’s arms and, not wanting to disturb his sleeping brothers, dragged him away a full thirty-two cubits, even as a lion might drag a small deer.
Hiḍimba broke free from Bhīma’s hold and wrapped his arms around him. He tightened his grasp and tried to crush him to death. Bhīma was unharmed. Even while held in the Rākṣasa’s powerful grip, Bhīma pulled him still further away so that his terrible yells might not disturb the others. He then burst free from Hiḍimba and clasped him in turn. The two fighters displayed their might as they lifted and hurled each other violently. They crashed about like two great elephants fighting for supremacy. Huge trees were smashed and splintered. The noise awoke the other princes and their mother. They sat up and looked around. They were astonished to see the extraordinarily beautiful Hiḍimbī. Kuntī addressed her with gentle words.
“O celestial maiden, who are you? To whom do you belong? Why have you come to this forest? Are you the forest deity or an Apsarā? Please tell me everything.”
Hiḍimbī explained who she was and how she had come to be standing there. Pointing to the combatants, she said, “I have chosen your golden-hued and immensely powerful son as my husband. Greatly angered by this, my brother has attacked him. See now how they struggle together, man and Rākṣasa, filling the forest with their roars.”
Yudhiṣṭhira and the other Pāṇḍavas stood up hastily and looked across at Bhīma. He was pounding Hiḍimba with his fists, making a sound like thunder claps. The Rākṣasa pressed forward and reached for Bhīma’s neck with his large hands. As they grappled, a dust cloud rose and covered them. They appeared like two cliffs enveloped in mist.
Arjuna ran over and, with a smile on his lips, said to his brother, “O mighty-armed one, why did you not wake me? I can see that you are growing tired fighting this terrible Rākṣasa. Rest now and I shall kill him. Nakula and Sahadeva will protect our mother.”
Arjuna was taunting his brother only to incite his anger, and his words had the desired effect. Bhīma blazed up with fury and replied, “You need only be a spectator, dear brother. Have no fear. Now that this evil cannibal has entered my clutches he shall not escape with his life.”
Arjuna urged Bhīma to make haste. Twilight was approaching and the Rākṣasa’s strength would be doubled. Bhīma should kill him at once before he was able to use mystic powers and illusions to fight.
Bhīma summoned his father Vāyu’s latent power. With a roar he lifted the Rākṣasa above his head. Whirling him around, Bhīma said, “O cannibal, you have led a life of sin. Your existence has been in vain. Therefore you deserve an unholy death. Now I shall slay you like the beast you are, thereby freeing this forest from its thorny plant.”
Bhīma whirled the Rākṣasa one hundred times and dashed him to the ground. Hiḍimba let out a terrible roar which reverberated around the forest like a massive drum. Now Hiḍimba was only semi-conscious. Bhīma lifted him again and, by smashing him onto the trunk of a large sal tree, broke his back in two. He then stood up and smiled at his brothers, who by then had gathered around him. They embraced him and, looking at the lifeless form of the giant Rākṣasa, congratulated him for his incredible feat.
Ghaṭotkaca Born and Baka Slain
Soon after Bhīma had killed Hiḍimba, the sun rose and the brothers could see paths through the forest. They decided to continue south. They were bound to come to a town at some point.
As they walked off with Kuntī between them, Hiḍimbī followed behind. Bhīma became concerned and said, “The Rākṣasas are known to avenge themselves on their enemies. They use deceptions and illusions. Therefore, O Hiḍimbī, you shall go the way your brother has gone.”
Bhīma turned menacingly toward Hiḍimbī. He did not fear her in the least, but wished only to scare her away before she tried any trickery. But Yudhiṣṭhira stopped his younger brother. “O Bhīma, you should never kill a woman even in anger. The attainment of virtue is always a higher duty than the protection of one’s body. Besides this, what harm can this woman do to us? You have already slain her more powerful brother.”
Hiḍimbī folded her palms to Yudhiṣṭhira and thanked him. She approached Kuntī and said with tears in her eyes, “Noble lady, you know well the suffering of a woman afflicted by desire. The god of love has pierced me with his shafts and I am consumed by desire for your son Bhīma. If he does not accept me as his wife, I will not be able to live. Do not doubt this.”
Hiḍimbī begged Kuntī to be merciful and allow her to marry Bhīma. She would carry all of them to a celestial region where they could rest for some time. There she could sport alone with Bhīma. Hiḍimbī promised Kuntī that she would always be available to serve the Pāṇḍavas. They had only to think of her and she would appear before them at once. Kneeling before Kuntī, Hiḍimbī said, “Please do not kill me by saying no. My request is in accord with virtue and indeed saving one’s life by any means is always considered virtuous by the wise. Virtue itself protects and sustains life; therefore grant me my desire, for it is not sinful.”
Yudhiṣṭhira smiled. He was impressed by Hiḍimbī’s knowledge of religion. She would be a good wife for Bhīma, whom he had noted was not above her sidelong glances. Yudhiṣṭhira said, “You have spoken well. O highly attractive lady, it must be as you say. You shall become Bhīma’s wife. Remaining with him by day, you may sport with him as you please. At night, however, he should always be returned to our presence.”
Hiḍimbī’s face blossomed with happiness. She looked at Bhīma with eyes full of love. The prince smiled at her and said, “I agree to this union, but I shall make one condition. As soon as you obtain a son I shall depart and leave you alone. My brothers and I have much to achieve in order to win back our father’s kingdom.”
Hiḍimbī agreed. Then, assuming a large form, she carried them all to a high mountain lake called Salivahana. In that beautiful woodland region the brothers constructed a wooden hut on the lake shore. There they lived peacefully. Hiḍimbī took Bhīma with her during the daytime. She soared through the sky to celestial places and showed Bhīma the numerous exquisite gardens frequented by Siddhas and Gandharvas. There they lay together on the sandy banks of crystal streams covered with blue and red lotuses. Hiḍimbī also took him to the land of the Guhakas, which was situated on the shore of the divine Mānasa lake. Bhīma saw beautiful towns full of shining mansions and palaces and groves of blossoming trees and heavenly flowers, whose fragrance completely enchanted the mind.
Hiḍimbī was as dazzling as a goddess. She adorned herself with fine gems and gold ornaments and she constantly poured forth sweet song. Bhīma was captivated by her and the seven months they enjoyed together seemed to pass as quickly as if it were seven days. At the end of the seven months she gave birth to a son named Ghaṭotkaca. Within days of his birth the boy grew to youthhood and he took on the terrible form of a Rākṣasa. His huge body was fearsome, with knotted muscles, a head as bald as a pot, terrible red eyes, a long pointed nose and ears like sharp arrows. His chest was broad and he stood as tall as a palm tree.
Although a Rākṣasa by nature, Ghaṭotkaca was inclined to virtue and he became a great favorite of the Pāṇḍavas. He was devoted to their service and they looked on him as a younger brother. Taught by the Pāṇḍavas, the boy quickly became proficient at weaponry and fighting. After a couple of months he asked permission from his parents to leave for the northern regions where Yakṣas and Rākṣasas dwell. He promised the Pāṇḍavas that they need only think of him and he would return to render them any service they required. After touching the feet of his mother and of all the Pāṇḍavas, he rose up to the sky and departed.
The time had come for Bhīma to leave Hiḍimbī. She embraced the Pāṇḍava tearfully and asked if she would ever again see him. Bhīma assured her that in the future, after he and his brothers had overcome their obstacles and were free from danger, they could be reunited.
Leaving Hiḍimbī in their mountain dwelling, the Pāṇḍavas and Kuntī resumed their travels. They disguised themselves as ascetics by matting their hair and wearing tree-bark garments. Bhīma carried his mother as they traveled through the many different lands. Going from forest to forest they passed through the countries of the Matsyas, the Trigartas and the Pañchālas. No one recognised them. They proceeded slowly, unsure of what to expect and awaiting the Lord’s indication as to what they should do next. While travelling they studied the Vedic scriptures together and all five brothers imbibed the science of morality and many other subjects described in the Vedas.
One day as they sat in the forest by their sacred fire, Vyāsadeva came to see them. After being received with due worship, the ṛṣi sat down and said, “I have been aware of the Kauravas’ unjust behavior toward you. Although I see both the Kauravas and yourselves equally, I feel a greater affection for you brothers due to your misfortune. I have therefore come here wishing to do you some good.”
Vyāsadeva informed them of a nearby village called Ekacakra. He instructed them to live there for some time, saying that he would come again to give them further directions. The ṛṣi then reassured the sorrowing Kuntī. Her sons would in time rule the world. The virtuous Yudhiṣṭhira, protected by his powerful brothers, would certainly become king. Soon he would perform the great Rājasūya sacrifice, establishing himself as the emperor of the entire globe.
The sage personally led them to Ekacakra. He brought them to a Brahmin’s house where they were received as guests. Vyāsadeva then took his leave, telling them again that he would return to them before long.
The Pāṇḍavas surveyed their new abode. The little village of Ekacakra was situated amid beautiful woodlands. The Brahmin had kindly given the brothers two rooms in his house for their residence. He had taken a vow that he would always receive any travelers who came to his door. By day they went about the village begging for food and, due to their gentleness and humility, they soon became dear to the people there. Everyone accepted them as wandering ascetics staying briefly in the village and they gladly gave them alms.
Every night the brothers offered their mother whatever alms had been collected. She would then prepare their meal. Half of the food was given to Bhīma, and the rest was divided among the other four brothers and Kuntī.
When the brothers went out begging, a different one of them would remain behind each day to protect Kuntī. One particular day it was Bhīma’s turn to stay back. He was sitting with his mother when they heard loud crying in the house. Hearing the piteous lamentations, Kuntī’s heart was moved and she spoke to Bhīma. “O son, due to this Brahmin’s kindness we are living here peacefully with no fear of Duryodhana and his brothers. I am always thinking how we might repay this gentle Brahmin. A virtuous man should always return the good done to him with an even greater good. Perhaps now our chance has come.”
Kuntī could understand that the Brahmin had fallen into some great distress. Bhīma told her to try to ascertain the cause. He would then try to remove it, no matter how difficult a task it may prove to be.
Kuntī slipped quietly into the inner apartments where the Brahmin lived with his family. She stood unnoticed by the door while the Brahmin and his wife and children sat with downcast faces. As Kuntī watched, the Brahmin said to his wife, “Fie upon this wretched life which affords one only misery. To live is to experience nothing but disease and pain. Pursuing in turn religion, wealth and pleasure, one endeavors much but receives little happiness. While everything leads to salvation, that is an impossible goal to achieve. Those who desire riches suffer, while those who have riches suffer even more. Alas, why do I live?”
Kuntī listened in silence as the Brahmin continued to condemn himself and his misfortune. He spoke of a terrible danger that had befallen them. His wife wept as he censured her, blaming their present predicament upon her wish to remain in the village due to affection for her now dead relatives. The Brahmin held his head in anguish. “How can I abandon you to save my own life? You were given to me by your parents. It is my duty to protect you. You have always served me and borne my children. I can in no way let you go. Nor can I abandon my only son or daughter. I shall go. Or maybe we should all die together.”
The Brahmin fell to the ground sobbing. His wife lifted him gently and said, “This lamentation does not befit a learned man like yourself. No one should lament inevitable death. Nor shall you or our children die. I shall go. Indeed, a woman’s highest duty lies in sacrificing her life to serve her husband. Undoubtedly such an act will confer upon me regions of eternal bliss.”
Kuntī was curious. The Brahmin’s wife continued to implore her husband to allow her to die. She said that neither she nor her children could possibly survive in his absence. If she were left a widow, she would become a prey to dishonorable men, who would seek her just as crows descend upon a piece of meat left on the ground. How then could she protect their two young children and keep them on the path of truth and virtue? She folded her hands and begged her husband for permission to leave. He could then accept another wife, while she would earn undying religious merits by her final service.
The Brahmin sat with his head in his hands and made no reply. Then his daughter began to speak. “O father, why are you sorrowful when you have me? Allow me to go and thus save yourself. It is a child’s duty to save the parent. This is why the wise have called one’s child putra, one who delivers the parents from hell. My duty to my forefathers is to bear a son to offer them the sacred śraddhā, but by the grace of Providence I may now serve my forefathers by saving my father. O Father, you will one day have to abandon me. Therefore do not hesitate to do so now.”
The girl wept along with her parents. The Brahmin’s small son then said in broken speech, “None of you should cry. Send me and I shall kill the cannibal Rākṣasa in a moment.” The boy smiled and brandished a piece of long grass as if it were a weapon.
Although they were grief-stricken, they all laughed at the young boy’s words. Kuntī took the sudden change of mood as an opportunity to inquire about the cause of their distress. Could she do anything to help? The Brahmin replied that their grief could not be removed by any human being. The country where they lived was protected from enemies by a powerful Rākṣasa named Baka. He had long terrorized the people, who found no protection from their weak king. The Rākṣasa used to come whenever he wanted and kill them for his food. Finally the people went to Baka and proposed that if he would stop attacking them at will, then each week one of them would go to him with a large cartload of food. In turn he should protect them from attackers. The cannibal agreed, but he demanded that he also eat the man who delivered his food.
The Brahmin told Kuntī that the turn of each man in their country came only after many years. Tomorrow it was his turn. He did not know what to do. He could not leave his young family alone, nor could he send them to their deaths. Therefore they would all go to meet the demon. Perhaps Baka would show compassion and spare them. Or they would all be devoured at once.
Kuntī said, “I see a means by which you may be delivered from this fear. Although you have but two children, I have five sons. Therefore let one of them go with the Rākṣasa’s tribute.”
The Brahmin was shocked. “I can never cause the death of a guest and a Brahmin to save my own life. Even the most sinful man would not do this. Rather, one should sacrifice himself and his children for the sake of a Brahmin.”
Kuntī was grave. “I am of the same opinion that Brahmins should always be protected, but you need not fear for my son. The Rākṣasa will not be able to kill him. He is powerful and knows the science of mantras.”
Kuntī told the Brahmin that she had already seen her son kill a powerful Rākṣasa. Baka would prove no problem to him. She asked the Brahmin not to disclose to anyone else what she had told him. If others learned of her son’s powers, they would harass him for his knowledge and the power of the mantras would be diminished if they were given to others.
The Brahmin looked carefully at Kuntī’s expression. She was obviously speaking the truth. Her son must surely possess some extraordinary powers. With tears in his eyes he assented to her suggestion.
Kuntī went to Bhīma and told him everything. She asked him to go to Baka. Bhīma agreed at once. His eyes lit up at the thought that he would be able to exercise his strength, while at the same time show their gratitude to the gentle Brahmin and his family.
Just as Kuntī and Bhīma finished speaking, the other Pāṇḍavas returned. Yudhiṣṭhira caught Bhīma’s eye and sensed at once that his younger brother was contemplating something wonderful. He sat by his mother and asked quietly, “What does Bhīma have on his mind? It seems he is about to do some extraordinary deed. Is it something you have ordered, or is it some plan of his own?”
Kuntī told her son what had transpired. When Yudhiṣṭhira learned that Bhīma was about to go out to meet Baka he became alarmed. “O Mother, you have made this Brahmin a rash promise. Surely it is never sanctioned to sacrifice one’s own son for that of another. All my hopes of overpowering Dhṛtarāṣṭra’s sons and regaining the kingdom are dependent on Bhīma’s power.”
Kuntī smiled slightly and reassured Yudhiṣṭhira. She reminded him of Bhīma’s superhuman prowess--how even as an infant he had crushed a great rock to powder, how he had easily carried all of them through the forest while running at the speed of the wind, how he had slain the immensely strong Hiḍimba. “It was not out of foolishness that I made my offer to the Brahmin. It is always a ruler’s duty to protect the Brahmins. By this act we will achieve two things: we will reward the Brahmin’s kindness toward us, and we will earn much religious merit.” Kuntī told her son that she had been wondering how to repay the Brahmin for some time. This opportunity was obviously the Lord’s arrangement for them.
Yudhiṣṭhira pondered Kuntī’s words. Looking across at the smiling Bhīma, he replied, “You have spoken well. Your decision is well considered. Because of your compassion toward the Brahmin, Bhīma will surely kill the demon Baka, but you must ensure that no one comes to know that it was him.”
Yudhiṣṭhira was not sure if the Kauravas knew that he and his brothers were still alive. Their spies would soon inform them of Baka’s death. They may well suspect that it was Bhīma who had killed him. Few other men were capable of killing such a powerful Rākṣasa.
That night while the village slept Bhīma quietly left the Brahmin’s house. He drove the cart loaded with food toward the forest where Baka dwelt. The aroma of the food was overpowering. After living for so long on meager forest fare and whatever alms the brothers were able to collect, Bhīma was ravenous. He began to eat the food from the cart. On his way into the forest, he shouted Baka’s name.
The Rākṣasa heard Bhīma’s approach and became inflamed with anger. He ran toward the Pāṇḍava, yelling, “I am Baka!”
Bhīma saw him emerge from among the trees. The earth resounded with his footsteps and his shouts were deafening. He had a huge body, red eyes, red beard and red hair. His mouth opened from ear to ear, and his forehead was furrowed into three lines as he looked upon Bhīma eating his food. Baka stopped near the cart and thundered, “Who is this fool who desires to be dispatched at once to death’s abode by eating in my presence the food intended for me?”
Bhīma glanced derisively at the Rākṣasa and smiled. He ignored his challenge and continued eating.
Baka roared in fury. He rushed at Bhīma with his arms upraised. Still the Pāṇḍava continued to eat. Baka brought his two fists down upon Bhīma’s back with the force of a thunderbolt. Without flinching, Bhīma went on eating. He did not even look at the Rākṣasa. Baka roared again and tore up a huge tree. As he whirled it above his head, Bhīma stood up and washed his hands from the pitcher of water on the cart. Then he leapt down from the cart and faced the infuriated demon.
Baka hurled the tree at Bhīma with all his strength. Bhīma smilingly caught it in his left hand and threw it back. The Rākṣasa uprooted one tree after another and hurled them at Bhīma, who caught each of them and sent them back. Soon the whole area was cleared of trees. Screaming out his own name again and again, Baka threw himself upon Bhīma and seized him. Bhīma also gripped the demon with his own powerful arms. The two dragged each other violently, each trying to kick the other’s legs out from underneath him. Then they fell to the ground, still locked in one another’s arms. They rolled about, making the ground tremble. Bhīma tightened his grip. He repeatedly smashed the demon’s head with his own forehead.
Gradually, Baka tired. Bhīma pulled free of his grasp and pounded the demon with his fists. He pressed down on Baka’s chest with his knees and struck him crushing blows which made the earth shake. Baka fell unconscious and Bhīma rolled him onto his stomach. Placing one knee on his back, he seized his neck with one hand and his waist-cloth with the other. With great force Bhīma broke the demon’s back in two. As he died Baka vomited blood and let out a fearful yell which filled the forest.
Hearing him scream, Baka’s friends and relatives came out of their houses. They looked with horror at his mountainous form lying in a pool of blood. Bhīma reassured the terrified Rākṣasas that he was not going to attack them. “This one has been killed due to his excessive fondness for human flesh. Give up killing men. Otherwise this fate awaits you all.”
The Rākṣasas immediately assented saying, “It shall be so.” Then they ran from that place, leaving Bhīma with Baka’s body. From that time on the people of Ekacakra noticed the Rākṣasas became peaceable toward them.
Bhīma lifted Baka’s corpse and placed it on the cart. Unseen by anyone, he deposited it by the town gates and then returned to the Brahmin’s house. His mother and brothers were relieved to see him, and he described to them all that had happened.
The Gandharva Aṅgaraparna
When the sun rose the people of Ekacakra found Baka’s dead body. They were astonished to see it lying there in a twisted mess, its mouth and eyes wide open. The citizens’ hair stood on end and their mouths fell open in amazement. Thousands of people gathered, all asking who had killed him. Gradually they realized that it had been the Brahmin’s turn to take food to the demon the previous night. A noisy crowd soon gathered outside the Brahmin’s house. While the Pāṇḍavas remained inside, the Brahmin spoke to the people.
“Yesterday as I sat by the roadside weeping at the thought of mine and my family’s plight, a Brahmin came by. When he found out the cause of my distress, he promised to deliver me and the town from this constant danger. Learned in the incantations that invoke celestial weapons, the Brahmin assured me that he would take the food to Baka on my behalf and kill him. He must have been successful at this inconceivable feat, because Baka now lies dead.”
The people looked at one another in wonder. Then they laughed and shouted in joy. They declared a festival to the Rākṣasa’s death.
The Pāṇḍavas continued to live at the Brahmin’s house as Vyāsadeva had instructed them. It had been months since the sage had last spoken with them. They expected his return at any time, and they passed their days in begging alms and studying the Vedic scriptures.
One day a wandering ascetic came to the Brahmin’s house and accepted his invitation to stay for a few days. After he had been duly worshipped and fed by the Brahmin and his family, the ascetic told stories from his travels. The Pāṇḍavas listened along with the Brahmin’s family. They heard about a great svayaṁvara ceremony soon to be held in Kāmpilya for Draupadī, King Drupada’s daughter. This princess, the ascetic said, was not born of a woman but had been born, along with her brother Dṛṣṭadyumna, from the sacrificial fire.
The Pāṇḍavas were intrigued. They asked, “Please tell us how it is possible that Draupadī and her brother could appear from the fire. We desire to hear everything you know.”
The ascetic first told them about Droṇa. The sage Bharadvāja had once seen Gritachi, a divinely beautiful Apsarā, and as a result he had dropped his vital seed. He caught his seed in a pot and from that seed Droṇa was born. As a child Droṇa had been friends with Drupada, who had come to study at Bharadvāja’s hermitage.
Some time after Drupada left the hermitage, Droṇa heard that the invincible Brahmin-warrior Paraśurāma was retiring to the forest and was giving away all his possessions. Droṇa approached him and asked for charity. Paraśurāma replied, “Having once won this wide earth from the ruling class, I am now without wealth. I have already given it to the Brahmins. I possess only my body and my weapons. Which of these would you prefer, O Brahmin?”
Droṇa asked Paraśurāma for his celestial weapons, along with the knowledge to use them. The ṛṣi bestowed his weapons upon Droṇa, who then left to again see his friend Drupada. By then, Drupada had become the king of Pañchāla.
The Pāṇḍavas listened as the ascetic told them what they had already heard from Droṇa himself--how Drupada had insulted his friend most terribly. Not knowing that it was the Pāṇḍavas who were listening, the ascetic told them how Drupada had then been overpowered by the Pāṇḍavas at Droṇa’s command.
After being humiliated by Droṇa and losing half his kingdom, Drupada thought only of revenge. He knew he could never defeat Droṇa in battle, so he had gone to the forest to seek out a powerful Brahmin. He knew that only a Brahmin’s spiritual power could match Droṇa’s strength.
After some time Drupada came across two Brahmin brothers named Yaja and Upayaja, descendents of Kaśyapa, a powerful son of Brahmā. The king worshipped and served the two Brahmins for some time, then asked for their assistance. He approached the younger of the two, Upayaja, first, knowing him to be the more powerful. Drupada asked him to conduct a sacrifice that would give the king a son capable of killing Droṇa. Drupada offered him ten thousand cows as payment, but the Brahmin replied, “I shall not perform any act directed toward material gain, either for myself or for another.”
The disappointed Drupada continued serving Upayaja in the hope that he might relent. Finally after a full year had passed the Brahmin took pity on him and said, “I once saw my elder brother take up and eat a fruit from the ground without considering whether or not it was clean. When we were both boys studying in our guru’s house I often saw him eat the remnants of other people’s food. One who has no regard for purity in one thing will not have such regard in another. Therefore approach him, for he will surely perform your sacrifice.”
The Brahmin’s words proved true and Yaja agreed to Drupada’s proposal. The Brahmin, realizing what difficult a task the king had requested, engaged his younger brother to assist him. Although Upayaja had no personal desire to perform Drupada’s sacrifice, he could not refuse his elder brother’s request. Thus the two Brahmins went to Kāmpilya to perform a fire sacrifice intended to propitiate the gods headed by Lord Viṣṇu. Thus Drupada would be able to get a son capable of killing Droṇa.
As the sacrifice commenced the king again spoke with Yaja. Remembering the day he had been overpowered by Arjuna, he asked the priest if, as well as a son, he might obtain a beautiful daughter whom he could offer to Arjuna as his wife. Drupada thought that if Arjuna became his son-in-law, his happiness would be complete. Yaja replied, “It shall be so,” and Drupada joyfully sat down by the sacrifical fire with his queen.
As the ritual neared completion Yaja called for Drupada’s wife. “Come quickly, O queen. A son and daughter have now come for you.”
The queen replied, “O Brahmin, I am not pure. My mouth is filled with saffron and my body is smeared with perfumes. I am not ready to receive the sacrificial ghee.”
Yaja replied, “Whether or not you are ready the object of this sacrifice, which I have prepared and Upayaja has sanctified, cannot be thwarted.”
Yaja had then poured the oblation into the fire. Immediately there arose from the flames a god-like boy. He was encased in brilliant golden armor and he shone like fire. He wore a bright crown on his head and held a long bow and a sword. That youth was terrible to behold and he rose from the fire roaring. Stepping clear of the flames, he mounted the king’s chariot and immediately rode about, displaying all kinds of skill.
The people of Kāmpilya had shouted with joy upon seeing this boy who would fulfill the king’s desire and kill his enemy. As their cries of happiness resounded a celestial woman appeared from the fire. Her complexion was dark and her smiling eyes were shaped like lotus petals. Her long and curling hair was bluish in color and it fell down her back as she emerged from the flames. She had rising breasts and tapering thighs. At the end of her graceful fingers were nails that shone like bright copper. Her body emanated the sweet fragrance of blue lotuses which could be perceived at a distance of two miles. That divine woman captivated the mind of every man who saw her. She had no equal even among the gods or the Gandharvas.
The ascetic then told his attentive audience how a heavenly voice had spoken from the skies as soon as the boy and girl had appeared. Booming like thunder it had said, “This dark-skinned beauty will be the best of all women and she will be the cause of the destruction of the world’s warriors. The boy shall be called Dṛṣṭadyumna and he shall slay Droṇa.”
Droṇa heard about this prophesy, but, considering destiny to be supreme, he neverthless agreed to train Drupada’s son in martial arts. The noble Droṇa did this to repay Drupada for taking half his kingdom.
The ascetic stopped. Having heard that Dṛṣṭadyumna would kill their beloved teacher, the Pāṇḍavas felt as if their hearts had been pierced. Kuntī saw their perplexity and, after they had retired for the night, said to Yudhiṣṭhira, “We have lived here for many months. I think it would be wise to leave now. You are all restless. I also sense that you desire to go to Pañchāla for Draupadī’s svayaṁvara.”
Kuntī had seen her sons’ eyes open wide when the ascetic had described Draupadī’s celestial beauty. Therefore she suggested that they leave the next day for Pañchāla. All five brothers agreed to her proposal, and the following morning they made their farewells to the Brahmin and his family. Walking in a line with Kuntī in their middle, they then headed toward Pañchāla, traveling again through the forest.
On the first evening of their journey, as they sat around their fire, Vyāsadeva arrived. Upon seeing him, the Pāṇḍavas prostrated themselves at his feet. They then stood with their palms folded as Vyāsadeva offered them blessings. When everyone was seated, Vyāsadeva said, “O conquerors of foes, are you following the path of virtue enjoined in the scriptures? Do you worship the Brahmins? I hope you always honor those worthy of your respect.”
The ṛṣi spoke for some time, giving the attentive princes various instructions. At the end of his discourse, Vyāsadeva told them that they should try to win the hand of the princess of Pañchāla. Her father was setting an archery test in order to find her a qualified husband. Arjuna should enter the contest.
Vyāsadeva then stood up to leave and, after again receiving obeisances from the Pāṇḍavas, vanished into the woods.
Reassured by Vyāsadeva’s directions, the brothers continued their journey the next day with joyous hearts. They walked day and night, eager to arrive at Pañchāla in time for the svayaṁvara. It was just after nightfall several days later when they came upon the gently flowing waters of the Ganges. Arjuna was leading the party with a torch in his hand to light their way. They all bowed respectfully to the sacred river before walking along her banks, searching for a place to cross.
Suddenly, from out of the darkness, they heard a loud voice. “Halt! Who dares approach this river at such a time? The night belongs to Yakṣas, Gandharvas and Rākṣasas. Only during the first portion of night, the twilight time, are other beings allowed to bathe. You appear to be human beings, therefore return the way you have come.”
A shining figure emerged from the waters, rose into the air, and descended onto a golden chariot. Clasping a huge bow he continued to address them in a thunderous voice, “I am the Gandharva Aṅgaraparna, friend of Kuvera, treasurer of the gods. I am bathing here. Not even the gods or demons would dare come to this river when I am bathing. How then have you humans been so bold? Leave quickly or I will kill you. I fear no one.”
Arjuna could not tolerate the Gandharva’s haughty speech. “O wretch, rivers and mountains are never barred to anyone at any time. There is no such thing as a special time when we are not allowed to approach this sacred river, nor do we care for your threats. Only the weak would fear someone like you. Make way, because we are now going to bathe in this river.”
Aṅgaraparna blazed with anger. He drew his bow and shot a hundred arrows at the brothers. Arjuna moved with blinding speed and struck down all those shafts simply with the torch he was holding. He laughed at the Gandharva. “Do not attempt to frighten those who are skilled in warfare. Your weapons simply vanish like froth on the ocean when hurled at more powerful opponents. O sky-ranger, I know you are superior to men in prowess. Therefore I shall use a celestial missile against you. The fire-weapon I will now discharge was first given to Bharadvāja by Bṛhaspati. Bharadvāja then gave it to Agniveśya, who gave it to my preceptor Droṇa. Droṇa gave it to me. Guard yourself from its power if you can.”
Chanting the incantations to invoke the Āgneyāstra, Arjuna imbued his torch with its tremendous power. Angrily he threw it at Aṅgaraparna and his chariot was immediately destroyed, burnt black. The Gandharva fainted from the missile’s force and fell headlong from the smoking chariot. Arjuna seized him by his hair, which was adorned with garlands of flowers, and dragged him before Yudhiṣṭhira.
Suddenly a celestial woman rushed out of the water and approached Yudhiṣṭhira. Folding her palms she said, “O exalted one, I am Kumbhinashi, Aṅgaraparna’s wife. Please bestow your mercy upon me and set him free. I seek your protection.”
The Gandharva came to his senses and sat up before Yudhiṣṭhira, who said to him, “O Gandharva, who would slay one who has been vanquished in battle, who stands deprived of his fame, who is unable to protect himself, and who is being protected by a woman? You may go.”
Aṅgaraparna stood and offered his respects to Yudhiṣṭhira. He spoke with humility. “My pride has been crushed by your younger brother. My celestial chariot lies burnt to ashes. I had been known as Citraratha, ‘one of the beautiful chariot’ but from now on I shall call myself Dagdharatha, ‘he of the burnt chariot’.”
Aṅgaraparna thanked Arjuna for not killing him, even though able. In return for Arjuna’s mercy, Aṅgaraparna offered him the divine knowledge possessed by the Gandharvas along with a team of celestial horses. Smiling, Aṅgaraparna said, “This knowledge, known as Chakshushi, will give you the ability to see anything within the three worlds, along with that thing’s intrinsic nature. It is this knowledge that gives the Gandharvas the powers that make them superior to men.”
Aṅgaraparna waved his hand toward the river bank and the Pāṇḍavas saw there a group of lustrous white steeds. “These are the horses I wish to give you. They will go anywhere at their owner’s will. They are said to be a portion of Indra’s thunderbolt and will always unfailingly fulfill your desire.”
Arjuna said, “O Gandharva, if you desire to give your knowledge and these horses in return for your life, then I shall not accept them. It was my duty to release you on my brother’s order. I cannot accept charity, for that is never the duty of the ruling class.”
Aṅgaraparna smiled again. “This need not be charity. O best of the Bharata race, I desire to learn from you how to throw the fire weapon which you used to overpower me.”
Arjuna agreed to this exchange, but said he first wanted to know why the Gandharva had challenged him and his brothers, although they were all virtuous men, learned in the Vedas and born in a noble line of kings.
The Gandharva replied, “O Arjuna, I have heard from Nārada Ṛṣi of your ancestors’ great accomplishments. I also know your fathers personally because Dharma, Vāyu, Indra, the Aśvinīs and even Pāṇḍu all reside in heaven. Although I knew you are all high-souled, virtuous, powerful and obedient to your vows, I nevertheless censured you. No man, possessed of strength and arms, ought to tolerate a confrontation in front of his wife. I was overpowered by wrath.”
Aṅgaraparna went on to explain why Arjuna had been able to defeat him although he was a celestial. “Because you have been observing a vow of celibacy, O hero, your power became insurmountable. If a warrior engaged in satisfying his desires fights with the Gandharvas at night, he will not escape with his life.”
Aṅgaraparna said that even a warrior who is not celibate could defeat a powerful enemy if he is accompanied by a Brahmin priest. The Gandharva concluded, “Men with learned and self-controlled priests can conquer the earth and acquire every good fortune, finally attaining even heaven itself. Therefore, O descendent of Tapati, you should seek out a qualified priest as your guide.”
Arjuna was listening carefully. He was curious that Aṅgaraparna addressed him as a descendent of Tapati. He asked, “As the sons of Kuntī we are known as the Kaunteyas. Why did you address us as Tapatyas? I have not heard this before.”
It was a long story. Aṅgaraparna invited the brothers to sit comfortably on the river bank while he recited the history of their distant ancestor, Tapati, daughter of the sun-god. Tapati had descended from the heavens and married Saṁvaraṇa, an early king in the Pāṇḍavas’ line. The Gandharva narrated this history, along with many other incidental stories. He spoke for much of the night and the enthralled brothers could see the first faint glow of dawn when he finished his narration. Arjuna then said to him, “O Gandharva, you know everything and can see everything by your divine sight. Please tell us where we can find a Brahmin who knows the Vedas and can become our priest.”
Aṅgaraparna replied that not far from there was a forest ashram called Utkachaka. A Brahmin named Dhaumya, the younger brother of the famous Ṛṣi Devala, resided there. They should approach him and ask that he become their preceptor.
Seeing the Gandharva’s friendship toward them and grateful for his advice, Arjuna gave him the mantra by which he could call the Āgneyāstra. In return Aṅgaraparna again offered him the horses. Arjuna replied, “I will not take anything from you now. I do not desire your knowledge and we cannot take the horses at present. O best of the Gandharvas, your friendship is sufficient. Perhaps if a time comes when we need these steeds, we shall then take them.”
Aṅgaraparna and the Pāṇḍavas saluted one another respectfully and took their leave. The Gandharva and his wife disappeared into the sky, leaving the Pāṇḍavas to continue on their journey.
After Aṅgaraparna left, the Pāṇḍavas went north along the bank of the Ganges, toward where the Gandharva had indicated they would find Dhaumya’s ashram. The sun had risen, and they could now see many ṛṣis bathing in the river, wearing a single piece of cloth and with their matted locks tied in knots on their heads. The brothers could hear the sages reciting sacred hymns from the Vedas--some in praise of the sun-god Sūrya, some worshipping Śiva, the mighty destroyer, and others praying to the supremely powerful Lord Viṣṇu. The Pāṇḍavas took their own baths in the Ganges. Using the sacred clay from the river bank, they daubed their bodies with markings that showed them to be Vaiṣṇavas, devotees of Viṣṇu. Kuntī entered the water fully clothed and then changed her dress in a secluded place. She thought constantly of Kṛṣṇa, praying that He would help them through their difficulties.
The sages told the brothers where to find Dhaumya’s hermitage. They then approached Dhaumya and fell at his feet. Yudhiṣṭhira said, “O greatly learned one, we are Pāṇḍu’s sons, traveling with our mother Kuntī. On the Gandharvas’ advice we seek your shelter. Please become our guide and protector. We are your servants.”
The effulgent Dhaumya smiled and bade them be seated. His disciples brought them offerings of wild fruits and water. As he looked upon the five young princes and the gentle Kuntī, the ṛṣi felt affection rise in his heart. He could see that they worshipped Viṣṇu, his own deity, and this too attracted him. Therefore he consented to become their priest. The Pāṇḍavas were overjoyed and felt as if their wealth and kingdom had already been regained and Draupadī won. Dhaumya then formally accepted them as disciples by initiating them with Vedic mantras.
The many sages in Dhaumya’s ashram offered the princes their blessings. Seeing such godlike boys, the ṛṣis felt that the brothers, by their own accomplishments, would soon become rulers of the earth. Accompanied by Dhaumya, the Pāṇḍavas continued on their journey to Pañchāla.
Draupadī’s Svayaṁvara
After a few days journey the forest paths brought the Pāṇḍavas and Dhaumya onto the road leading to Pañchāla. As they made their way along that broad stone highway, they met a group of Brahmins. The Brahmins asked, “Who are you and where are you going?” Yudhiṣṭhira replied that they were five brahmacārīs, celibate students, who had come from Ekacakra along with their teacher. The Brahmins then exhorted the brothers to attend Draupadī’s svayaṁvara. “Accompany us. We are going straight there. The magnanimous King Drupada will be distributing vast wealth to the Brahmins on his divine daughter’s behalf.”
Again the Pāṇḍavas heard of the extraordinary birth and beauty of Draupadī, as well as details of her impending svayaṁvara. All of Kāmpilya would be celebrating. There would be actors, singers, dancers and expert reciters of the ancient Vedic histories. Powerful wrestlers would compete, and athletes would give wonderful displays. Food and drink of the best quality would be served in abundance. And at the end of the celebration Draupadī would then select a husband from among the kings and princes, who had been assembling from all parts of the world. The Brahmins told the Pāṇḍavas that they had heard that Drupada had set a most difficult task for the man who would win his daughter’s hand. The kings who were coming to compete would also be distributing much charity to the Brahmins in hopes of invoking auspiciousness for themselves and obtaining victory at the svayaṁvara.
The Brahmins laughed as they spoke. They pointed to the simple cloth the Pāṇḍavas were wearing. “It seems you boys could use some new cloth. Follow us. Having received all that you require, you may return with us or go wherever you will.” Inviting the five brothers to travel with them, the Brahmins continued, “Who knows? The princess may even select one of you boys, all as handsome as the celestials.” They pointed to Bhīma. “This godlike youth has a body like a thunderbolt. Surely he will win much wealth if he enters the wrestling competitions.”
Yudhiṣṭhira smiled. “We shall all accompany you to Kāmpilya. Pray lead the way!”
The party proceeded. They traveled by day and at night stopped in roadside woods or on lakeshores. With their gentle speech and amiable behavior the Pāṇḍavas endeared themselves to whomever they met, but no one recognized them. As they reached the outskirts of the city they came to a small village. Walking from house to house to find accommodations, they were soon admitted by a potter and his family. The brothers settled there and lived by begging, just as they had done in Ekacakra. They learned from the villagers that the svayaṁvara was to take place in a few days. The king had set a stiff test for winning Draupadī. A small target had been placed on top of a tall pole. Beneath it was a rotating plate with one small hole in it. An arrow had to be shot through that hole at the moment it was aligned with the target. The king had also determined that a particular bow should be used, one which an ordinary man could barely lift. Only an extraordinary warrior would be able to pass the test and win the divine Draupadī’s hand.
Arjuna was enlivened. He prayed to Kṛṣṇa that he might have the chance to try for the princess. From Vyāsadeva’s words it seemed that she was destined to be the wife of one of them, and by such a union the brothers would gain the friendship and alliance of the powerful Drupada. That would probably prove useful in the future. Arjuna eagerly awaited the svayaṁvara.
* * *
Drupada had made lavish preparations for the ceremony. A huge stadium had been constructed. In its massive sandstone walls were one hundred gates, each one inlaid with gold and precious gems. Each gate was wide enough to admit crowds passing through. Within the stadium were gently sloping terraces made of coral and lapis lazuli. At the front of these terraces were hundreds of jewel-encrusted thrones arranged for the many monarchs in attendance. All around the stadium the king had built white mansions for their residence. The buildings were many-storied and looked like the cloud-kissing peaks of Mount Kailāsa. The windows of those mansions were covered with gold lattices and the walls studded with diamonds and emeralds. Costly rugs were spread on their marble floors.
When the day of the svayaṁvara arrived, the kings were invited into the stadium. They came through the northern gate and took their seats on the golden thrones. As the monarchs entered, thousands of trumpets blared and kettledrums resounded throughout the stadium. Many ṛṣis, all of them shining like the sun, entered through the eastern gate. The terraces, adorned with countless wreaths and garlands, were filled with Pañchāla’s citizens. As they flooded into the stadium the colorfully dressed people made a sound like the roar of the ocean. The scent of black aloe and frankincense wafted throughout the stadium as everyone settled into their places.
The Pāṇḍavas entered with the Brahmins and took their place in their midst, unnoticed by anyone. They looked around the arena. At the head of all the assembled kings sat Duryodhana and his brothers, resembling a blazing planet surrounded by a hundred bright stars. Bhīma felt his anger rising but Yudhiṣṭhira checked him with a glance. They could not risk being discovered--yet.
The ceremony had begun. Actors and dancers were entertaining the crowd. Brahmins were performing fire sacrifices. Drupada was distributing charity. All of this continued for fifteen days and, with each day, the attendance swelled. The Pāṇḍavas were astonished to see Drupada’s affluence. The Pañchāla king was distributing heaps of gold and gems to the Brahmins. Although dressed as Brahmins, the Pāṇḍavas did not go forward to collect charity, but remained in their places, awaiting the day when Draupadī would appear.
On the sixteenth day the princess, dressed in robes of shining yellow silk and adorned with brilliant ornaments, entered the arena. In her hands she held a golden dish containing the nuptial garland, which she would place around the neck of the man who successfully passed the test her father had set. Gentle music from the flute, tabor and vīṇā played as Draupadī walked toward her seat next to her father. Seeing her beauty, the kings and princes suddenly stood up and brandished their weapons. They boasted to one another in loud voices: “I shall win this princess!” “None can equal my strength and prowess!” “Draupadī will be mine!”
That host of princes seemed like an agitated ocean as they rose and boasted of their power. Afflicted by the god of love and staring at one another in jealousy, they slapped their arms and held aloft their bows and swords, looking like so many Himālayan elephants maddened by desire while in rut.
The celestial chariots of the gods--led by the guardians of the four quarters of the universe, Yamarāja, Indra, Kuvera and Vāyu--settled above the arena. Siddhas, Cāraṇas, Nāgas, Rudras, Daityas, Dānavas and Guhakas assembled in the canopy of the sky, curious to witness Drupada’s sacrifice and the selection of Draupadī’s husband. The great ṛṣis, headed by Nārada, Aṅgirā and Parvatya, stood in the sky among the gods, appearing like suns.
When the five Pāṇḍava brothers saw Draupadī’s dark and lovely face, they felt their hearts pierced as if by darts. They stood up from their seats and gazed at her exquisite form as she moved gracefully to her father’s side. On the opposite side of the arena were the Yādavas from Mathurā. Sitting in their midst, Kṛṣṇa noticed the Pāṇḍavas stand. He looked closely at the five brothers and, turning to Balarāma, said, “In My opinion, those five men over there are the Pāṇḍavas.” Kṛṣṇa indicated the brothers with a slight nod of His head. “I heard a rumor that My cousins survived the fire in Vāraṇāvata. This now seems true. What is Your opinion, Rāma?”
Balarāma carefully observed each of the five brothers. There was no doubt. They were Kuntī’s sons. He turned and smiled at Kṛṣṇa, who returned His smile, but They remained silent about Their discovery.
By now, all the princes were gazing only at Draupadī and her father. None of them noticed the Pāṇḍavas in their midst. Drupada waved to them and, biting their lips in anger and envy toward one another, they sat down. As celestial flowers fell from the sky, the sound of countless conches and kettledrums filled the stadium. Draupadī’s brother Dṛṣṭadyumna stood up like a golden flagstaff raised in honor of Indra. The stadium fell silent as he announced the names of all the kings and princes present. He first named the princes from Hastināpura, then those from Mathurā, then all those attending from hundreds of other countries and provinces.
Dṛṣṭadyumna held his sister’s arm and said in a voice that rumbled like thunder, “This princess will be won today by he who can hit the mark.” The prince pointed to the huge bow lying on a golden table. “There is the bow and the arrows you must use. Truly do I say that whoever shoots an arrow through the device and into the target will win Draupadī’s hand. Only one of noble birth and great prowess will be capable of this feat.”
Dṛṣṭadyumna sat down near his father. Drupada instructed his priest to kindle the sacrificial fire for the svayaṁvara ceremony. The sounds of thousands of Brahmins reciting Vedic prayers filled the arena. The king looked around at the assembled princes. He was not impressed. None of these proud monarchs looked like a suitable match for his daughter. The king thought of Arjuna. If only that prince were still alive. He had heard a rumor that the Pāṇḍavas had escaped the fire, but where were they now? This test could only be passed by someone of Arjuna’s ability. Drupada had deliberately devised a test that only Arjuna could pass in hopes that the Pāṇḍava might appear. Yaja had promised him he would obtain a daughter from his sacrifice who would become Arjuna’s wife. How could the ṛṣi’s words prove false? Drupada looked on anxiously as each king and prince was called to try the test.
With their crowns and golden earrings glinting in the warm sunshine, the kings and princes strode up one by one to the bow. It was only with considerable effort that they were able to even lift the massive weapon from the table. Having somehow managed that, and finally getting it upright, they then had to bend and string it. These kings could not manage the task even in their imaginations. The bow would bend slightly, then spring back with great force. The princes were thrown to the ground, their bodies bruised and their crowns and garlands scattered. As they each took their turn and were, in turn, humiliated, they returned to their fine golden thrones, straightening their shining ornaments as they walked. Panting for breath, their romantic ardor dispelled, the princes sat silently shaking their heads.
Karṇa’s turn came. Seeing him march toward the bow like a golden mountain entering the arena, the Pāṇḍavas considered that the target had been struck and the princess won. As he approached the bow, however, Draupadī stood up and said in a loud voice, “I shall not accept a charioteer’s son as my husband.”
Knowing that Karṇa was the son of Adhiratha, leader of the sutas who generally acted as chariot drivers, Draupadī exercised her prerogative and denied him the opportunity to attempt the test.
Karṇa blushed deeply and laughed in vexation. Glancing at the sun, he turned and strode back to his seat. He ground his teeth and wrung his hands in anger, but said nothing.
The powerful king of the Cediś, Śiśupāla, was next. With great effort he bent the bow into a semi-circle, then lost his grip as he tried to string it. He was thrown onto his back and lay there exhausted for several moments before returning to his seat, defeated. Then Jarāsandha, lord of the Magadha country and scourge even of the gods, took his turn. He bent the bow and held it in one hand while trying to string it with the other. Again the bow resisted and he was thrown to his knees.
Sneering at the other monarchs’ weakness, Duryodhana strode up. A silence fell upon the assembly as the king of Hastināpura bowed to Drupada. The king nodded slightly and Duryodhana lifted the bow. He strung it deftly and placed on its string one of the golden-shafted arrows. Taking careful aim he loosed the arrow. It sped upwards and passed cleanly through the rotating hole but missed the target by a hair’s breadth. The prince angrily threw down the bow and returned to his seat.
Knowing that it was Draupadī’s destiny to marry Arjuna, none of the Yādava kings, including Kṛṣṇa and Rāma, attempted the test. They simply watched and laughed as the bow hurled each of the princes to the ground. They breathed a sigh of relief when Duryodhana’s arrow whistled past the target. That wicked man did not deserve a prize like Draupadī. But where was Arjuna? Only Kṛṣṇa and Balarāma felt no apprehension. They looked across at the Brahmins’ compound.
Now all the kings had tried and failed. Draupadī was still holding the bright red garland on its golden dish. Dṛṣṭadyumna called for any last contestants. Arjuna looked at Dhaumya who smiled and nodded. The prince stood up and walked into the center of the arena. The assembled Brahmins roared in joy and waved their deerskins. Maybe a simple Brahmin would succeed where even the proud, mighty kings of the earth could not. And if any Brahmin could succeed, it would be this one. Arjuna looked like a dark cloud as he advanced toward the bow. He moved like a lion.
Not all the Brahmins agreed. Some of the elder Brahmins were doubtful. Fearing that Arjuna would humiliate the Brahmin class by this rash act, they spoke out loudly. “How can one untrained in arms and lacking strength succeed where even the lords of this world have failed? Stop that youth! It is merely out of childish impetuosity or vanity that he is attempting this impossible task. We shall all be made to look ridiculous.”
Other Brahmins demurred. “Just look more closely at this boy. His arms and thighs resemble the trunks of mighty elephants. His shoulders are broad and he appears as powerful as a maddened lion. He may well succeed. Surely he would not have gone forward if he lacked energy and power.”
Some of them described the power of Brahmins. Whether possessed of physical strength or not, Brahmins were always powerful by virtue of their spiritual strength. No Brahmin should ever be disregarded. Once all the earth’s warriors had been annihilated by Paraśurāma, who was a Brahmin. The great Ṛṣi Agastya had drunk the entire ocean. There was nothing a Brahmin could not achieve. This youth should not be checked. “Yes! Let him go forward. He will easily string the bow and strike down the target.”
The elders replied, “So be it,” and again took their seats.
Arjuna reached the center of the arena and, after bowing to the king, spoke in a voice that echoed around the stadium. “Is it permissible for a Brahmin to attempt this test?”
Drupada looked curiously at the Brahmin, then gave his assent. “It is never disgraceful for rulers to be subordinated by the power of Brahmins,” the king replied. “Indeed, they are protected by that power even as Viṣṇu protects the gods.”
Arjuna turned to the bow and, folding his palms, bowed low before it. Within his mind he prayed to Kṛṣṇa. Having walked respectfully around the bow three times, he took it up in his right hand. In moments he had strung it and placed a golden arrow on the string. A complete hush fell over the stadium as Arjuna stood absolutely still with the bow drawn to a full circle. He knelt and aimed upwards at the target. Suddenly he released the arrow and it shot up with blinding speed. Passing cleanly through the hole it struck the target in its center. As the target clattered to the ground with the arrow sticking from it, the stadium erupted. The people rose to their feat and cheered, while musicians played innumerable instruments. Drums, trumpets and conches resounded and bards immediately composed poems glorifying Arjuna’s achievement. The gods praised Arjuna and sent down showers of celestial flowers. The Brahmins rose in a body, waving their garments and water pots and leaping about in joy. But the kings and princes were seized with shame and they uttered exclamations of grief and despair. Drupada, his eyes expanded in happiness, gazed in wonder as the mysterious Brahmin walked toward the royal dais. Who was he? Could it actually be Arjuna? The king noticed the other monarchs becoming agitated. There was clearly going to be a fight. Drupada turned to his chief minister and commanded that his army stand ready. He then told Draupadī to accept the Brahmin as her husband.
The princess looked at Arjuna as he approached the dais. She was immediately attracted by this god-like youth with the gentle demeanor. Maybe he was Arjuna, as Yaja had promised. Even if he were not, there was certainly no shame in marrying him. He was a Brahmin and Brahmins were always considered superior to the ruling class, or kṣatriyas. And, although he appeared to be a Brahmin, he was especially powerful and obviously self-controlled. This union was surely sanctified by the presence of Kṛṣṇa, the all-powerful Lord of the creation. Draupadī approached Kuntī’s son and joyfully placed the garland around his neck.
Seeing Draupadī actually accept the Brahmin further infuriated the kings. Yudhiṣṭhira decided it was time to leave. He rose up with his brothers and walked toward the stadium gates. Arjuna followed behind with Draupadī. The Brahmins cheered and praised him as he walked past.
From amid the enraged kings, Duryodhana called out, “How does this Drupada dare offend us in this way? He has passed over all the lords of the earth to bestow his daughter upon a poor and unqualified Brahmin. Brahmins should never be allowed to compete in a svayaṁvara, which is meant only for the royal order. It seems Drupada invited us here only to insult us.”
The kings roared in agreement. Some of them waved their weapons. Śiśupāla then said, “The Pañchāla king is so proud that he thinks none of us his equal. He deserves to be punished at once. Let us act so that other svayaṁvaras do not end in a similar way.”
The kings stood up with their weapons at the ready. They glared at Drupada and moved in a body toward him. Seeing the overwhelming odds, Drupada backed away in fear.
Yudhiṣṭhira was observing the scene from the gate. Realizing that Drupada, now his father-in-law, was in danger, he ordered Bhīma and Arjuna to assist him. The brothers quickly ran up to the dais and placed themselves between Drupada and the other kings. Arjuna still held the sacrificial bow. Bhīma tore up a tree from the side of the arena and brandished it menacingly. The two princes looked like Indra and Yamarāja standing against the massed force of Daityas and Dānavas. The hundreds of kings stood back warily as they looked at the two heroes facing them.
Kṛṣṇa remained unmoved. Watching the two Pāṇḍavas preparing to fight, He turned to Balarāma and said quietly, “Any doubts there may have been about the identity of these princes should now be gone. None but Bhīma could have torn up that sal tree and who but Arjuna could have struck down the target? O Saṅkarṣaṇa, these are surely the Pāṇḍavas.”
Balarāma looked at Bhīma and Arjuna as they prepared to ward off the maddened kings. “This is certainly true,” He smiled. “It is fortunate indeed that Our aunt and her young sons have escaped from the fire in Vāraṇāvata.”
Many Brahmins ran forward to support the two Pāṇḍavas. They waved their water pots and deerskins, crying out, “Fear not! We shall fight these arrogant monarchs.”
Arjuna smiled and gently restrained them. “Stand aside and watch,” he said. “With my sharp arrows I shall stop them just as so many snakes are checked by the power of mantras.”
Karṇa advanced to the head of the kings. He shouted, “Although the royal order should not attack Brahmins, it is permissible if those Brahmins stand ready for battle.”
Karṇa stopped at a distance from Arjuna and shot arrows at him. Arjuna, who was supplied with a large number of shafts by Drupada’s soldiers, immediately countered all of Karṇa’s arrows with his own. King Śalya of Madras fought with Bhīma and they appeared like two huge elephants colliding together. Duryodhana and the other kings contended lightly with the other Brahmins who still challenged them. They easily held off the ascetic sages, but did not injure them.
Arjuna sent a number of swift arrows at Karṇa. They pierced his limbs and stunned him with their force. Karṇa looked upon his opponent with surprise. He had not expected such dexterity and martial power. Guarding himself more carefully, he replied with hundreds of straight-flying shafts, but Arjuna again knocked down all his arrows before they reached him. Seeing his expertise, the other kings cheered him on. This infuriated Karṇa. He released thousands of arrows. They filled the air like a flock of golden birds. Still Arjuna countered them, invoking celestial weapons and creating a mass of arrows that sped toward Karṇa.
The two combatants fought with astonishing skill. As they battled they called out to one another in the language of heroes: “Behold the strength of my arms!” “Guard yourself, if you can.” “See how I counter your moves!” “Stand ready, for I shall release even more deadly weapons!”
The other kings stood by and watched open-mouthed, praising both warriors as they displayed their skills.
Karṇa soon realized he was not to gain the upper hand in the fight, so he stopped his attack and addressed Arjuna in a loud voice. “O best of Brahmins, I am pleased with your prowess. Are you the science of arms personified? Perhaps you are Paraśurāma or Indra, or maybe even the infallible Lord Viṣṇu. When I am angered there are none who can fight with me but these personalities--or the son of Kuntī, Arjuna.”
Arjuna smiled. “I am neither Indra nor Paraśurāma. Nor am I any god or divine being. Know me to be a simple Brahmin who has become proficient in arms by his guru’s grace. Having mastered both earthly and celestial weapons, I stand here ready to vanquish you in battle.”
Karṇa lowered his weapons and became pensive. This was no ordinary Brahmin. It would be better to desist from the fight. A Brahmin’s spiritual power was always greater than a kṣatriya’s martial power. The great king Viśvāmitra, even though well-versed in every divine weapon, could not overpower Vasiṣṭa Ṛṣi, and the Brahmin Paraśurāma single-handedly defeated all the kings of the earth. Karṇa bowed to the mysterious Brahmin and turned away from the battle.
Elsewhere, Bhīma and Śalya were still engaged in a fierce hand-to-hand combat. Locked together, they stamped and rolled about the arena like a pair of maddened elephants fighting for supremacy. Their roars and the sound of their blows filled the stadium. Sometimes pushing, sometimes dragging and sometimes throwing the other down, they fought with unflagging energy. They struck each other with the force of thunderbolts, laughing loudly as they fought. Suddenly Bhīma lifted Śalya high above his head and whirled him around. He threw the king to a distance and left him lying stunned. Remembering him to be the brother of Mādrī, Bhīma did not continue his attack upon Śalya.
The kings were amazed to see both Karṇa and Śalya matched by the two Brahmins. They looked in awe upon Bhīma and Arjuna, who stood together ready for further assaults. “Surely these two are not Brahmins. Who could fight with Karṇa except Droṇa or Arjuna? Who could throw down Śalya other than the mighty Balarāma or Bhīma? None could face Duryodhana except the unconquerable Kṛṣṇa. Let us establish their lineage before we continue.”
The other kings agreed. It was not wise to fight with Brahmins, even if they were offensive; but if these two proved to belong to another class, then the fight could continue with full force.
Seeing the kings hesitating, Kṛṣṇa came forward and spoke to them. “O monarchs, the maiden has been fairly and wonderfully won by the Brahmin. There is no need for further fighting. Let us not blight this sacred occasion by unnecessary bloodshed, especially by assaulting the Brahmins.”
With gentle words and arguments Kṛṣṇa succeeded in dissuading the kings from further aggression. Gradually they put away their weapons and left the arena. As they went out they talked together in amazement, wondering who the two mighty-armed Brahmins might be.
The Pāṇḍavas Wed Draupadī
Bhīma and Arjuna, both bruised and bloody from the battle with the kings, turned and walked toward the stadium’s southern gate. They were surrounded by Brahmins, who praised them with great joy. With difficulty the two brothers pushed their way through the crowd and out of the arena, appearing like the sun and the moon emerging from behind clouds. Some way from the stadium by the roadside the other Pāṇḍavas and Draupadī were waiting for them. Seeing them returning safely from the fight, they embraced the two heroes and together proceeded to the potter’s house.
At the house Kuntī, who had not accompanied her sons to the svayaṁvara for fear of discovery, was feeling great anxiety. It was past sunset and her sons had still not returned. What could have delayed them? Perhaps the Kauravas had recognized them and had them killed, or maybe the Rākṣasas had come together to avenge the killing of Hiḍimba and Baka. Kuntī remembered Vyāsadeva’s assurances. Could the great sage have been wrong?
As Kuntī sat in the still evening air lost in thoughts of affection for her children, Arjuna suddenly entered the hut and called out, “O Mother, we have returned bringing excellent alms. Just see the wonderful jewel we have obtained today!”
Filled with relief and happiness to hear her son’s voice, Kuntī called back, “Share among yourselves whatever you have acquired.” She looked up and saw Arjuna enter her room accompanied by Draupadī, who immediately bowed low at her feet. The princess had discovered the identity of the brothers and was joyful to know she had been won by Arjuna. She greeted the venerable Kuru queen with appropriate words of respect.
When Kuntī saw the white-robed princess bowing before her, she gasped in horror. “What have I done! How can you all share this woman?” Kuntī caught the still smiling Draupadī by the hand and went out to see Yudhiṣṭhira. “My words have never been false. Indeed, I cannot utter untruth. When Arjuna said he had brought alms I had no idea he meant this princess and I thus said, ‘Share it among yourselves.’ It must therefore be so. What then should be done?”
Kuntī felt her religious principles threatened. She valued truth above all else. Even in jest she never lied. Fearful that her virtue had suffered a diminution, she looked anxiously at Yudhiṣṭhira. “Tell me, dear son, how my words may prove true and at the same time this princess may not be touched by sin.” It was virtually unheard of for a woman to marry more than one man. Marrying five men was unthinkable.
Yudhiṣṭhira looked thoughtful. He consoled his mother and assured her that neither she nor Draupadī would be touched by sin. He turned to Arjuna and said, “Dear Phālgunī, you have won this maiden. It is therefore proper that you marry her with due ritual. Kindle the sacred fire and accept her hand with the blessings of the Brahmins.”
Arjuna was surprised. “O King, do not hurl me onto the path of the wicked. Your command is not consistent with virtue, in my view. How could I accept this princess in your presence while you remain unmarried? Surely you should accept her hand. Then, if you so command, Bhīma may marry her and only then myself and the twins.”
Hearing Arjuna’s respectful words, the other Pāṇḍavas glanced at Draupadī. They had all expected that she would become Arjuna’s wife, but as they looked at her, the Pañchāla princess returned their glances. All the brothers felt their hearts invaded by love. They had never seen such a maiden. It was as if she had been personally fashioned by the Creator himself. She was as resplendent as the Goddess Lakṣmī, Viṣṇu’s eternal consort.
Yudhiṣṭhira could understand his brothers’ minds. He recalled Vyāsadeva’s words. Even though he had advised Arjuna to try to win Draupadī’s hand, the sage had seemed to intimate that Draupadī should become the wife of all of them. Although rare, such an act need not be unrighteous if sanctioned by an authority like Vyāsadeva, especially if it was performed in order to preserve some other, higher religious purpose. If Draupadī became the wife of only one of them, it would most certainly create rivalry and dissension among them. And Kuntī’s words would also become false. This seemed to be a divine arrangement. Making up his mind, Yudhiṣṭhira said, “We shall all marry the blessed Draupadī.”
Upon hearing Yudhiṣṭhira’s words, all the brothers became joyful. Yudhiṣṭhira was equal to their father Pāṇḍu. His authority was final, his word to them non-different from an order given by the Supreme Lord Himself. Draupadī must surely become their wife. They all now glanced openly at her, and she looked down shyly. As they pondered the import of Yudhiṣṭhira’s command, the potter came to inform them that they had visitors: Kṛṣṇa and Balarāma were at the door.
The two Yādava heroes entered the room and saw Yudhiṣṭhira seated on the floor surrounded by his brothers. With his powerful shoulders and well-developed arms, the handsome prince resembled Indra sitting amid the principal gods. Kṛṣṇa folded His palms and said, “I am Kṛṣṇa and this is Baladeva, My elder brother.” The Pāṇḍavas were delighted to see their cousins. They stood up at once and Kṛṣṇa touched Yudhiṣṭhira’s feet in respect. He embraced Bhīma and Arjuna and received the twins’ respect. Both Kṛṣṇa and Balarāma also touched Kuntī’s feet as she shed tears of happiness upon seeing Them.
After they had all exchanged appropriate greetings according to their status, the Pāṇḍavas gazed at Kṛṣṇa. They marveled at how, although He was the Supreme Lord of the entire creation, He had accepted the role of a human being and was now their relative and friend. Kṛṣṇa enquired after their welfare. Yudhiṣṭhira replied, “We are all well, O Kṛṣṇa, but tell me, how did You manage to trace us?”
Kṛṣṇa smiled, “Fire is always visible even when covered. Who but the Pāṇḍavas could have performed such feats at the svayaṁvara? O conquerors of foes, by sheer good fortune you have escaped from the fire. By the same good fortune have Duryodhana’s sinful plans come to nothing. Be blessed. May you grow in prosperity as a fire in a cave gradually grows and spreads itself around.”
Kṛṣṇa then said He had best leave before He drew attention to the brothers and gave away their disguise. He and Balarāma stood and left quietly. The Pāṇḍavas sat for some time thinking about Kṛṣṇa. They were heartened by His show of support and encouragement. They felt sure they would soon be restored to their proper position in Hastināpura.
Unknown to the brothers, Dṛṣṭadyumna had also followed them back and was now lying concealed near the hut. He watched in surprise as Kṛṣṇa and Balarāma came and went. Who were these Brahmins that the two all-powerful Yādava heroes felt the need to visit? They must not be ordinary ascetics. Dṛṣṭadyumna cautiously moved closer and peered through the window. Kuntī was in the middle of instructing Draupadī how to prepare the Pāṇḍavas’ meal. She told the princess that after having offered the food to the Lord and giving a portion to the Brahmins, she should divide what was left into two parts. She should then give one-half to Bhīma and divide the rest between the other four brothers and themselves.
Dṛṣṭadyumna watched as his sister cheerfully did as she was instructed, giving half of the food to the huge-bodied youth who had thrown Śalya down in the arena, and distributing the remainder to the others. After they had all eaten they lay down to sleep on beds of deerskins spread over soft grass, their heads pointing toward the south. Kuntī lay across the line of their heads and Draupadī lay at their feet. Dṛṣṭadyumna saw her smiling in great happiness as she accepted her new, apparently humble, position. As they lay there the brothers began to speak together. From his position at the window the prince heard them talking about celestial weapons, chariots, elephants, bows, arrows and swords. They discussed the battle with the kings in the stadium, laughing as they described how Bhīma and Arjuna had routed the bellicose monarchs.
The prince had seen and heard enough. It was obvious that these men were powerful warriors. Surely they were royalty in disguise. Dṛṣṭadyumna quietly left and went back to his capital to inform his father of everything he had witnessed.
* * *
Back in Pañchāla, King Drupada was anxious. His beloved daughter was gone but he did not know who had taken her. He pondered on the day’s events. Who was that man who had hit the target? Was he really a Brahmin? Maybe it had been simply by luck that he had succeeded in the test. Perhaps he was a vaiśyā or even a śūdra, casting Drupada’s noble line into disrepute. Or maybe he was a great hero of the royal order. Then why would he have disguised himself as a Brahmin? Perhaps he was actually Arjuna, somehow survived from the terrible fire at Vāraṇāvata. Surely that was too much to hope.
As the king sat absorbed in thought, his son entered his chamber. After bowing at his father’s feet the prince described everything he had seen. Dṛṣṭadyumna was convinced it was the Pāṇḍavas who had won Draupadī, and he happily explained how he had followed them to a hut on the city’s outskirts, how Kṛṣṇa and Balarāma had visited, and how he had heard them speak the language of warriors.
“The two Brahmins who fought in the hall left and joined three others. They appear to be brothers. In their midst was a lady who shone like fire. I believe she is their mother. They spoke together in voices as deep as black thunderclouds. There is no doubt that these men are neither śūdras nor vaiśyās. They are certainly of the royal order. In my opinion they are the Pāṇḍavas, who are living in disguise since escaping Vāraṇāvata.”
Drupada was extremely pleased by his son’s words. As soon as dawn broke, he called for his priest and asked him to go to the potter’s hut to ascertain the Brahmins’ identities. The priest left at once and, arriving at the hut, applauded the Pāṇḍavas for their prowess. Then he said, “O worshipable ones, the great King Drupada desires to know your names. Please tell me your family name and race. Are you by any chance the Pāṇḍavas? It was ever the king’s wish that his daughter be united with Arjuna. If this has transpired, then nothing could be more conducive to our fame and virtue.”
Yudhiṣṭhira turned to his brothers and said, “Bring water and wash this Brahmin’s feet. He is worthy of our worship. Because he is Drupada’s royal priest, we should especially respect him.”
Bhīma immediately did as his elder brother had directed. He had the priest sit comfortably, then offered him arghya. Yudhiṣṭhira then said, “O Brahmin, the king fixed a certain price for gaining his daughter. She was not given freely. Therefore he has nothing to say about the lineage of the man who has passed his test. All his questions about our family and race have been answered by the stringing of the bow and the striking down of the target.”
Yudhiṣṭhira smiled. He assured him that Drupada need have no regrets. His long-cherished desire would soon be fulfilled. Draupadī was clearly endowed with the auspicious marks of one who would be married to kings. The Pāṇḍava continued, “What man of low birth or one unaccomplished in arms could have shot down the mark? It was done fairly and there is no one who can now undo that act. The king should not grieve.”
As Yudhiṣṭhira spoke, another messenger arrived to tell them that a great feast had been prepared in the city. He asked the Pāṇḍavas to please come with him to the king’s palace where the wedding ceremony could be properly performed.
Yudhiṣṭhira assented and the messenger showed the brothers to a couple of golden chariots which Drupada had sent. After placing Kuntī and Draupadī on one of them, they mounted the other and all of them left for Kāmpilya. The white steeds drawing the chariots soon brought them to Drupada’s palace. As the Pāṇḍavas dismounted they were greeted by the king’s ministers, who led them to the hall where the feast was waiting. Headed by Yudhiṣṭhira, the brothers entered the vast chamber which was spread with costly rugs. Many long tables lined the walls, which were studded with countless gems. On one table the king had placed various items associated with Brahminical life--sacrificial paraphernalia, holy books and garlands. On another were items used by the vaiśyā class--farming implements, ropes, seeds and the like. On yet another were weapons, armor, shields, rockets and other instruments of war, and expensive cloths, gold ornaments and other fine things of different types.
Everyone gazed at the brothers as they strode into the hall. Seeing those powerful men clad in black deerskins--each with the gait of a sportive lion, broad shoulders, long and well-muscled arms resembling serpents, eyes like furious bulls--the king and his relatives, ministers and attendants were gladdened. Without hesitation the heroes, in order of age, fearlessly sat upon seats of gold furnished with silk and provided with footstools. At once well-dressed servants and maids fetched many kinds of delicious foods on gold and silver plates. The brothers dined with pleasure on the rich preparations brought before them--food worthy of kings.
When the meal was over they rose and went to the table containing the weapons and royal items. They carefully examined all the pieces, discussing them among themselves. To Drupada and his sons and counselors it was obvious that the brothers belonged to the royal order.
Drupada approached Yudhiṣṭhira and said, “Sir, are we to know you as Brahmins or kṣatriyas of the royal order? Are you vaiśyās? Or even śūdras? Perhaps you are celestials who have assumed the disguise of Brahmins and are roaming the earth. Please truly tell us. Truth becomes monarchs even more than sacrifice or charity. Once we have ascertained the order to which you belong, we can arrange an appropriate wedding ceremony.”
Yudhiṣṭhira looked at the king and smiled. He spoke in a voice as deep as the rumbling of clouds. “O King, you may dispel your doubts and be cheerful. There is no doubt that your desire has been fulfilled. We five are royalty, the sons of the illustrious Pāṇḍu. I am Yudhiṣṭhira. Your daughter was won by Arjuna who, along with Bhīma, fought with the other kings. She is like a lotus that has been transplanted from one clear lake to another. With Draupadī in the ladies’ chamber is Kuntī, our mother.”
Yudhiṣṭhira folded his palms and said that he had told the king everything that needed to be told. Surrounded by his brothers, he added, “O King, you are our revered elder and superior. We now take shelter of you. Tell us, what should be done?”
Drupada was filled with delight. Tears flowed from his eyes and he was unable to speak. He stood for some moments with all his limbs trembling. Finally he managed with great effort to suppress his joy. He said, “O hero, I cannot express my happiness in words. Today my birth stands fulfilled and my dreams are realized. This is indeed an auspicious day. Tell me, how did you all escape from the fire at Vāraṇāvata?”
Drupada and his two sons, Dhṛṣṭadyumna and Śikhaṇḍī, listened as Yudhiṣṭhira narrated the story. When he had finished they censured Duryodhana and his weak father. Drupada gave every assurance to Yudhiṣṭhira, vowing that he would somehow restore him to his rightful position as king in Hastināpura. He gave the brothers accommodations in his own palace and treated them with all respect.
The following day Drupada again spoke to Yudhiṣṭhira. “O mighty-armed one, today is a day marked by favorable stars. Let Arjuna take my daughter’s hand with all due rites.”
Yudhiṣṭhira replied, “O King, if my younger brother is to marry today, then I shall also have to accept a bride, for that is the religious ordinance.”
Drupada nodded understandingly. “Then you must accept the hand of Draupadī in the sacred marriage ceremony. Or give her to whichever of your brothers as pleases you.”
Yudhiṣṭhira said, “The princess shall become the wife of us all. Our mother has ordered this. It was Dhanañjaya who won your jewel of a daughter, but the rule among us is that we share equally any jewels we obtain. Therefore Draupadī may accept each of us, one after another, according to age.”
Drupada stepped back, his eyes wide with surprise. “O mighty-armed hero, I have heard that a man may accept many wives, but never that a woman may accept more than one husband. You are famed for your virtue. How then can you approve an act so contrary to tradition and indeed scriptural injunction?”
The king was surrounded by his sons and ministers and they all listened carefully as the Pāṇḍava prince replied. He told them that morality was subtle and its application was dependent upon circumstances. One therefore had to follow the authorities. His mother had ordered them all to marry the princess and that order had found acceptance in Yudhiṣṭhira’s mind, which had never entertained thought of sin in his life. The prince was certain there would be no sin if Draupadī married all five brothers.
Drupada was still not convinced. He wanted more time to think. It was entirely unprecedented that a woman could marry many men at the same time. He asked Yudhiṣṭhira if they could discuss the matter further with Kuntī, Dhṛṣṭadyumna and the learned Brahmins in his court. Yudhiṣṭhira agreed and sat in the king’s council chamber for the discussion.
They had only been speaking a short while when the palace attendants announced Vyāsadeva’s arrival. As the sage was shown in, everyone present offered their respectful obeisances at his feet. Vyāsadeva greeted them in return and offered blessings to Drupada and the Pāṇḍavas. After they had taken their seats, Drupada asked, “O illustrious one, is it possible for one woman to marry many men without being defiled by sin? Please tell me truly.”
Vyāsadeva replied that such a practice was certainly opposed to both the direction of the Vedas and tradition. Although practiced in former ages it had long become obsolete. The sage looked at Drupada and Yudhiṣṭhira and asked both of them for their opinions. Drupada revealed his doubts. He could not see any way by which the five brothers could all become Draupadī’s husband. It would mean that the elder brother would be approaching his junior’s wife. According to scripture, that would be the same as approaching his daughter.
Yudhiṣṭhira replied that his heart, which could never turn to sin, felt no misgivings about the proposed marriage. He cited a historical example of a Brahmin girl named Jatila who had married seven ṛṣis at once. There was also the case of the famous ascetics known as the Pracetās. They too, being brothers, had accepted one woman as their shared wife. These examples were found in the Vedas and were not considered sinful. In certain circumstances even established rules may be broken in order to preserve a higher religious principle.
Kuntī agreed with her son and asked the sage how she could be saved from untruth. Vyāsadeva replied, “O gentle lady, you shall certainly be saved from sin. This is eternal virtue.”
The sage turned to Drupada and said, “I wish to speak with you in confidence, O King.” Vyāsadeva rose and took hold of Drupada’s hand. They went into the king’s chamber while everyone waited outside. When they were alone Vyāsadeva explained to the king why the marriage conformed with virtue. The ascetic told Drupada that Draupadī had been the daughter of a ṛṣi in a previous life. She had prayed to Śiva for a husband. In her prayer she asked the deity five times for a powerful husband. Śiva had replied, “Since you have asked me five times, in your next birth you shall have five husbands.” Śiva could not possibly ordain a sinful act.
Vyāsadeva further explained that the princess was an expansion of the Goddess Lakṣmī. She had appeared from the sacrificial fire in order to become the Pāṇḍavas’ wife, who themselves had all been gods in their past lives. In fact, the sage explained, all the brothers had been incarnations of Indra in different millenniums.
Vyāsadeva bestowed upon the king the divine sight to see the Pāṇḍavas as they had been in previous lives. In his inner vision Drupada saw the blazing form of Indra that each brother had possessed--their celestial bodies adorned with golden crowns and garlands.
Struck with wonder, Drupada folded his palms and said to the sage, “O great Ṛṣi, there is nothing outside your knowledge or capabilities. My mind is now satisfied. What has been ordained by the celestials must always come to pass. We are all instruments in the hands of destiny. Let my daughter accept all five brothers as her husbands.”
The king and the sage rejoined the others and informed them of Drupada’s change of heart. Vyāsadeva said, “Today the moon has entered the auspicious constellation of Puṣyā. The first ceremony should be performed at once and Yudhiṣṭhira can accept Draupadī’s hand.”
Drupada ordered his ministers and priests to make all the arrangements. A sacred fire was lit in the vast inner courtyard of the king’s palace. Rows of pennants bearing the emblems of the gods lined the sacrificial arena, which was full of Brahmins chanting hymns. A beautiful altar was constructed from coral and gold and bedecked with sparkling jewels. Fragrant garlands were draped everywhere and the aroma of costly incenses wafted throughout the courtyard.
The king with his relatives and friends took their places in the compound, which lay next to a large lake of lotuses. Citizens of all classes assembled in the courtyard to observe the ceremony--Brahmins with their heads covered by simple cloths, wealthy merchants shielding themselves from the bright sunshine with decorated parasols, and śūdras in their brightest clothes. All watched as the five brothers, dressed in silk robes and adorned with shining gold earrings, entered the compound like mighty bulls entering their pen. Dhaumya walked at their head. His bodily luster was as brilliant as the sun. He sat by the fire and offered libations of ghee. As the flames rose he chanted mantras invoking the presence of Viṣṇu and the prinicipal deities. Then he called Yudhiṣṭhira to come forward and accept Draupadī’s hand. The dark-complexioned princess, clad in bright yellow silks and decorated with many precious jewels, her long curling hair adorned with flowers, stood to receive Yudhiṣṭhira. The bride and groom took each other’s hand and walked around the sacred fire seven times, sealing their union.
On the days following Yudhiṣṭhira’s wedding, each of the brothers married the Pañchāla princess. Vyāsadeva informed the king that by the gods’ arrangement, his daughter regained her virginity each day after a marriage and before the next marriage took place. When all five weddings had been sanctified, Drupada sat before the sacred fire and gave the brothers charity. To each of them he gifted one hundred golden chariots drawn by four excellent steeds, one hundred mature elephants and one hundred maidservants adorned with ornaments and flower garlands. He also gave them large amounts of gold, various precious stones and many valuable robes. Like so many celestials the brothers began passing their days in joy in Pañchāla, the king’s capital. For his part, having formed an alliance with the Pāṇḍavas, Drupada did not fear even the gods in heaven.
After arriving back at Mathurā, Kṛṣṇa arranged for vast amounts of wealth to be sent as a gift to the Pāṇḍavas. Great heaps of unworked gold bricks and piles of precious stones, including numbers of priceless vaidurya gems, soon arrived at Kāmpilya and were offered to the brothers. Costly carpets, robes, blankets and skins were placed before them in piles. Kṛṣṇa also sent them thousands of maidservants--all young, beautiful and highly accomplished. Well-trained elephants and horses, as well as hundreds of chariots, were also presented.
Out of love for Kṛṣṇa, Yudhiṣṭhira graciously accepted the wealth and sent back a message of gratitude. Secure in the knowledge of Kṛṣṇa’s friendship and blessings, all the brothers felt their good fortune assured in every way.
(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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