dharme cārthe ca kāme ca mokṣe ca bharatarṣabha
yad ihāsti tad anyatra yan nehāsti na tat kva cit
yad ihāsti tad anyatra yan nehāsti na tat kva cit
"In the realm of dharma, artha, kama, and moksha, (ethics, economic development, pleasure, and liberation), whatever is found in this epic may be found elsewhere, but what is not found here will be impossible to find anywhere else."
Mahābhārata, Adi Parva 56.33)
The Mahabharata
The Pāṇḍavas Exiled
After everyone had left the gambling match, Dushashana said to Duryodhana, “O great hero, that old man gave everything back that we strived so hard to acquire. The Pāṇḍavas have been sent back to their kingdom and we are back where we started.”
The two brothers consulted Karṇa and Śakuni. They condemned the blind king for his softness. How could he have been so foolish as to show kindness to such powerful enemies? That was a serious mistake. Unless they acted quickly to reverse the situation, they would soon be facing a great danger. Their spies had already reported how the five brothers were proceeding toward Indraprastha. Bhīma was whirling his massive mace, Arjuna was repeatedly twanging the Gāṇḍīva, Nakula and Sahadeva were waving their great swords, and Yudhiṣṭhira held aloft his spear. It was clear that they were ready to fight.
On Śakuni’s suggestion, Duryodhana again approached his father. Their only hope, Śakuni said, was another gambling match. This time, the Kauravas should win something. The Gandhara monarch revealed his plan and Duryodhana immediately went to Dhṛtarāṣṭra’s chambers.
Duryodhana found the king seated on a golden couch. Sitting at his feet he said, “Father, we must recall the Pāṇḍavas for another game before it is too late. We have stirred to anger a number of venomous serpents. How can we possibly expect them to tolerate the insult we offered to their wife? A powerful enemy must be destroyed by any means. We have started something which we cannot now stop.”
Duryodhana told his father that if the Pāṇḍavas could somehow be sent away, then it would give him time to find allies and build his strength. Using the Pāṇḍavas’ vast wealth, he could make his position unassailable. First, however, Yudhiṣṭhira and his brothers had to be removed from the scene. Duryodhana described the plan Śakuni and he had contrived. The king should call the Pāṇḍavas back for one final game of dice. It was clear that they and the Kauravas would not be able to co-exist peacefully. Therefore, whoever lost the dice game should live in the forest in exile for thirteen years. During the final year, they could emerge from the forest but had to remain incognito. If they were discovered, then they would have to again go into the forest for a second twelve years. Such would be the stakes for this final game.
Dhṛtarāṣṭra remained silent after his son had stopped speaking. It was true that the Pāṇḍavas were now a real threat. Who could gauge the outcome of a war between those powerful brothers and his own sons? But another gambling match? What would Vidura and Bhīṣma say? It would probably be wiser to let things stand as they were for the present. Yudhiṣṭhira was virtuous and would keep his brothers in check.
Seeing his father’s hesitation, Duryodhana implored him. The king felt himself weakening. It was almost impossible for him to refuse his son. And if Duryodhana were to win the final match, as seemed likely, then the Kauravas would become the undisputed rulers of the earth. He himself would sit at their head. Even though Yudhiṣṭhira was the world’s emperor, if he agreed to the stakes and lost he would certainly feel honor-bound to enter the forest. Considering that everything lay in the hands of fate, the king agreed to Duryodhana’s proposal. He ordered that the Pāṇḍavas should be brought back to play one last game in which everything would be settled.
When they learned of this, the other Kuru elders objected strongly, but Dhṛtarāṣṭra would not listen. He ignored their counsel and messengers were sent from Hastināpura to find the Pāṇḍavas.
Seeing her husband’s blind acceptance of Duryodhana’s dark plans, Gāndhārī became anxious. She had been mortified to learn of Draupadī’s ordeal in the assembly hall. It seemed that Duryodhana lacked all moral scruples. How could the king support him? How could he possibly have sat in silence as the gentle Pāṇḍava queen was so harshly abused? When Dhṛtarāṣṭra was alone, the blindfolded queen approached him. “Do you not recall Vidura’s advice when Duryodhana was born? He warned us that if we did not cast aside that disgrace of our race, he would surely cause our destruction. It seems this is now coming to pass. O ruler of men, do not for your own fault sink into an ocean of calamity. Do not accept the counsel of wicked-minded persons who are but boys. Who would rekindle a great fire after it has been extinguished? Who could be so foolish as to again provoke Kuntī’s peaceful sons?”
The king remained impassive. Gāndhārī was wise and thought always of his welfare and the good of the Kuru house, but her advice now was like a bitter medicine. He could not swallow it. She continued, “You alone have caused the disaster we now face. Lead your sons on the right path. Do not watch them rush towards death. Abandon Duryodhana now. The affection you bear for him will destroy this kingdom. Let your mind, guided by wise counsels, follow its natural inclination toward peace and virtue. Surely you know that prosperity acquired through wickedness is soon lost, while that which is gained through honest means takes root and descends from generation to generation.”
Dhṛtarāṣṭra sighed and stood up to leave. “If it is time for the destruction of our race then, what can I do? If it is God’s will, then let it take place without hindrance. How can I influence events ordained by destiny? Let the Pāṇḍavas return and again gamble with my sons.”
The queen said nothing more. It was hopeless. Surely the end of the Kurus was nigh, since no one could sway the king from his folly. She called for her servants and was led back to her quarters.
* * *
The Pāṇḍavas had gone a considerable distance from Hastināpura when to their surprise they saw a group of messengers from Hastināpura, headed by the pratikamin, approaching them. Yudhiṣṭhira dismounted from his chariot and the servant stepped forward and said, “O Yudhiṣṭhira, your uncle has ordered, ‘O best of the Bharatas, the assembly awaits you again. Come back for one final game of dice.’”
Yudhiṣṭhira could immediately understand Dhṛtarāṣṭra’s intention. He turned to his brothers and said, “All creatures receive the good or evil fruits of their work as ordained by the Supreme. Whether I play another dice game or not, the fruits of my past activities are unavoidable. Although I know the Kauravas wish to destroy me, I cannot ignore the summons. A living creature made of gold had never before been seen, yet Rāma allowed himself to be fooled by a golden deer. When calamity approaches, men’s minds become confused. Surely the path of religion is subtle and highly difficult to ascertain.”
Yudhiṣṭhira turned and retraced his steps back to Hastināpura. He was fearful. Despite his best efforts to follow the orders of his elders and avoid conflict, still a war seemed inevitable. To refuse Dhṛtarāṣṭra’s summons would only bring the conflict into the open more quickly. But what would be the result of another dice game with Duryodhana?
The five brothers soon arrived back at Hastināpura. To the consternation of their friends and well-wishers, they again entered Dhṛtarāṣṭra’s great hall. Although he knew full well that he had no chance of success, Yudhiṣṭhira sat down to play dice with Śakuni one last time. When the Pāṇḍavas were again seated in the hall, Śakuni said, “O Yudhiṣṭhira, the old king has returned your wealth. That is well. Now let us play with a stake of greater value. If we are defeated, we shall accept exile in the forest. We will wear deerskins and remain there for twelve years. During the thirteenth year we will live in a city, town or village. If you should discover us, however, we shall be exiled in the forest for another twelve years. If you are defeated, you and your brothers, along with Draupadī, will accept the same conditions.”
Śakuni’s mouth curved into a sinister smile. The ivory dice in his hand clacked as he explained the stakes. Whichever side was the loser would be expected to surrender their kingdom to the winner. The kingdom would be returned when the thirteen-year period was over.
As the stakes were described, all those in the hall cried out, “Alas! Shame upon Duryodhana’s friends that they do not warn him of the danger he brings upon himself!” Some of them turned to Dhṛtarāṣṭra and said, “Whether or not Duryodhana understands his foolishness, you should order him to stop. He will bring down only death and destruction. Check him at once. This is your duty.”
Dhṛtarāṣṭra said nothing and Yudhiṣṭhira replied, “O King, how can one like me who always observes a kṣatriya’s duty refuse your challenge? Everyone knows this about me. Besides, it is Dhṛtarāṣṭra, my father and guru, who orders me to play. What can I do but accept the stakes?”
The game began. Everyone in the hall sat breathless as it moved toward its inevitable conclusion. Finally, Śakuni’s “I have won!” echoed round the hall again. The Kuru elders cried out, “Alas! Shame! This ancient house is doomed!”
Duryodhana laughed and ordered that deerskins be brought immediately for the Pāṇḍavas. When the brothers had put on the ascetic garb and were preparing to leave for the forest, Dushashana spoke in great happiness. “Now Duryodhana’s unopposed and absolute sovereignty shall begin. The Pāṇḍavas stand vanquished. Indeed they are miserable. Whether or not we have acted sinfully does not matter. It is clear that the gods have bestowed their grace upon us, for today we have defeated our enemies. Kuntī’s sons are deprived of happiness and kingdom forever. Those who laughed at Duryodhana shall now abandon their royal robes and armor and go to the forest possessing nothing.”
Relishing the moment to the full, Dushashana continued to taunt the Pāṇḍavas with cruel words. Seeing the five brothers in their black deerskins resembling five powerful ṛṣis, he said, “Although the Pāṇḍavas look like wise men installed in a sacrifice, they should now be considered unworthy to perform any sacrifice.”
Dushashana then turned toward Draupadī. “King Drupada did not act well when he bestowed this princess upon the Pāṇḍavas, who are impotent men. O Draupadī, what joy will you get from serving your husbands in the forest? Select a better husband from among the Kauravas so that this calamity may not overwhelm you. Do not waste any more time waiting upon the Pāṇḍavas.”
Bhīma rushed toward Dushashana like a Himālayan lion might rush toward a jackal. “O crooked wretch, you rave in words uttered only by the sinful. You have won today only by Śakuni’s skill, yet still you dare to boast. As you pierce our hearts with words as sharp as arrows, so shall I pierce your heart in battle to remind you of your words today. Then I shall send you to Yamarāja’s abode along with your followers.”
Giving up all shame Dushashana laughed and danced around in the Kuru’s midst, singing, “O cow, O cow.”
Bhīma restrained himself, with difficulty, by fixing his mind on virtue. He spoke again to the sneering Dushashana. “Wretch, how do you dare to use such harsh words, having won by foul means? I shall surely tear open your chest and drink your life-blood in battle, or I will never attain to the regions of bliss. My anger shall be pacified only when I have slain all of Dhṛtarāṣṭra’s sons.”
Yudhiṣṭhira headed for the door, followed by his brothers and Draupadī. In great joy Duryodhana walked alongside Bhīma, mimicking his powerful lion-like gait. Half-turning toward him, Bhīma said, “Do not think that by this you have gained anything over me. I will be back to kill you and all your followers. Neither of us will forget what has happened today.”
Dhṛtarāṣṭra was still silent. Bhīṣma, Vidura, Droṇa and Kṛpa, all of whom were shedding tears to see the Pāṇḍavas go into exile, called out, “Fie! Fie!” They looked helplessly at the blind king.
Before the Pāṇḍavas left the hall, they stopped before the king and Bhīma spoke again. “I shall kill Duryodhana and all his brothers, O King. Arjuna will slay Karṇa, and Sahadeva will kill the evil Śakuni. My words will be made good by the gods. When I have beaten Duryodhana to the ground with my mace, I will then place my foot on his head.”
Arjuna added, “The promises of superior men are not empty words. You will see all this come to pass on the fourteenth year. As Bhīma directs, I will kill Karṇa, who is malicious, jealous, harsh-speeched and vain. I will also slay all kings who foolishly stand against me in battle. If my vow is not carried out, then so shall the Himālayas be moved, or the sun’s rays become cool. I will not fail. This will come to pass in fourteen years if Duryodhana does not return our kingdom.”
Arjuna felt sure that Duryodhana would never return their kingdom. The war was inevitable. All the brothers knew it. As Arjuna finished speaking, Sahadeva, sighing like a snake, his eyes red with anger, said, “O Śakuni, you have destroyed the fame of your race. What you call dice are actually pointed arrows aimed at your heart. If you have anything left to do in this life, do it now, for I shall certainly kill you in battle when we return from the forest.”
Nakula also vowed to rid the earth of Duryodhana’s followers. Having made their promises, the brothers turned toward Dhṛtarāṣṭra. Yudhiṣṭhira said, “I bid you farewell, O King, and also you, O Kuru elders. I shall see you all again upon my return. I bow to you and ask your blessings.”
The elders were too ashamed to reply. They prayed for the Pāṇḍavas’ welfare. Then, after a moment, Vidura spoke. “Your mother, the revered Kuntī, is a royal princess and should not be made to go to the forest. She is delicate and old. Let that blessed lady remain in my house while you are gone.”
Yudhiṣṭhira agreed, saying, “You are our uncle and as good as our father. Let it be as you say, O learned man. We are all obedient to you. Without doubt you are our most respected guru. Please command us what else should be done.”
“O Yudhiṣṭhira, best of the Bharata race,” Vidura replied, “do not feel pained by this turn of events. There is no shame in being defeated by sinful means. You five brothers will reside happily in the forest, enjoying each other’s company along with the company of the virtuous Draupadī. You have already received many instructions from ṛṣis and saints. This exile will be a further opportunity to receive spiritual training. The learned Dhaumya and the godly Ṛṣi Nārada will instruct you as you lead a simple forest life. Actually, you will be benefited by your withdrawal from worldly affairs and wealth.”
Vidura wished them well, praying that they would return in safety. He blessed them that they might obtain from the gods their various opulences: victory from Indra, patience from Yamarāja, charity from Kuvera, sense control from Varuṇa, strength from Vāyu, forbearance from the earth and energy from the sun-god. Finally Vidura said, “Leave then with our permission, O son of Kuntī. None can accuse you of ever having acted sinfully. Farewell.”
Yudhiṣṭhira thanked his uncle for his blessings and bowed low before him, Bhīṣma and Droṇa. Each of his brothers then offered their respects to the Kuru elders, who in turn blessed them. They then made their way out of the hall.
Before following her husbands, Draupadī approached Kuntī to ask her leave. As she entered the inner chambers a loud cry went up from all the ladies there. They were plunged in grief to see the Pañchāla princess about to enter the forest. Draupadī saluted and embraced them all according to their status. She bowed before Kuntī, who lifted her up and embraced her.
With tears in her eyes, Kuntī said, “O child, do not grieve for this great calamity which has overtaken you. The hearts of good women are never moved by the inevitable influence of destiny. Knowing all your duties, you should follow your husbands with a happy heart and continue to render them service. You are chaste and accomplished, and you adorn the ancient Kuru race. It is fortunate indeed for the Kurus that they were not burnt by your wrath. O sinless one, go now in safety, blessed by my prayers. Protected by your own virtue, you will soon obtain good fortune.”
Kuntī’s voice was choked. She had never been separated from her sons before. How could she face thirteen years away from them? Sobbing loudly, she asked Draupadī, “O child, take particular care of Sahadeva. That gentle boy holds a special place in my heart.” Draupadī replied, “So be it,” and, still wearing a single blood-stained cloth, her hair disheveled, she left the inner apartments in tears. Kuntī followed close behind. As she came out she saw her sons, shorn of their royal robes and clad in deerskins. They were surrounded by rejoicing foes and pitying friends. Overwhelmed by motherly affection, Kuntī embraced them and said with difficulty, “You are all virtuous and well-behaved. You are devoted to the Lord and ever engaged in the service of your superiors. How then has this calamity overcome you? I do not see whose sin has fallen upon you. Surely it is due to your having taken birth in my womb that you now face this reversal despite your numerous excellent qualities.”
Kuntī lamented loudly for her sons. How would they survive in the wilderness? She decided that Mādrī had been the more fortunate wife. She had already attained her liberation. Surely she had forseen this terrible disaster and had entered Pāṇḍu’s funeral fire in relief. If Kuntī had known that this was to happen, she would never have brought her sons from the mountains to Hastināpura.
Kuntī let out an anguished cry. “O great creator! Have you forgotten to ordain my death? Surely that is why I am still living although faced with such tragedy. O my sons, I obtained you after so much difficulty. How can I leave you now? I shall accompany you to the forest.”
Folding her hands, she prayed aloud to Kṛṣṇa, “O Kṛṣṇa, O You who dwell in Dwārakā, where are You? Why do You not save me and my sons, the best of men? Those who are wise say that You always protect those who think of You. Why is this now proving false?”
Kuntī then censured the Kuru elders who could stand by and watch as her virtuous sons were exiled to the forest. Weeping, she turned to Sahadeva. “O my son, you should not go. Stay behind and earn the fruit of the virtue of serving the mother. Let your pious brothers fulfill the terms of the vow.”
The Pāṇḍavas were pained to see their mother grieving. They consoled her as best they could, then took their leave. Vidura gently took Kuntī by the hand and led her toward his house. Gāndhārī and the other ladies of the royal house also wept, covering their faces with their lotus-like hands.
With difficulty the brothers made their way along Hastināpura’s crowded streets. The news of their exile had spread quickly, and the streets were filled with grieving citizens. Led by Dhaumya, they left the city and the people they loved, unable to say anything to anyone.
: 1.22: Into the Forest
When the Pāṇḍavas were gone, Dhṛtarāṣṭra became prey to anxiety. Thinking of the dangers awaiting his sons he could not enjoy peace of mind. He brooded in his rooms for some time, then called for Vidura. When his brother arrived the king timidly asked, “I desire to hear how Yudhiṣṭhira and his brothers left the city. How did Draupadī proceed? What was the exalted Dhaumya doing as they left the city?”
Vidura replied, “Yudhiṣṭhira walked with his face covered by a cloth. Bhīma was looking at his mighty arms and Arjuna was scattering sands as he walked. Sahadeva smeared his face with dirt and Nakula covered his body with ashes. The lotus-eyed Draupadī followed them with her face bathed in tears and her hair disheveled. Dhaumya walked before them, carrying kusha grass and uttering fearful mantras from the Sāma Veda relating to Yamarāja.”
Intrigued by this description, Dhṛtarāṣṭra enquired further, “Tell me why they have assumed these various guises, O Vidura.”
“Although your sons persecuted him and deprived him of his kingdom by foul means, the wise Dharmarāja has not deviated from the path of virtue. Thus he covered his face, thinking, ‘I may consume innocent citizens by looking at them with eyes made fearful by anger.’ Bhīma strode forth from the city repeatedly stretching his arms and thinking how none could equal him in strength. He desires to do to his enemies acts worthy of those arms. Arjuna, who is capable of drawing his bow with both hands, scattered sands to symbolize the countless arrows he will let loose in battle. Sahadeva smeared his face thinking, ‘None should recognise me in this hour of calamity. The incomparably handsome Nakula covered himself with ashes thinking, ‘I should not steal the hearts of women as I walk exposed along the public highway.’”
Hearing of Bhīma and Arjuna’s belligerence, the blind king became even more fearful. What would become of Duryodhana and his brothers now? Dhṛtarāṣṭra listened with growing concern as Vidura continued his description.
“The chaste Draupadī, attired in a single piece of cloth, her hair bedraggled due to Dushashana’s touch, went along saying, ‘The wives of those who have reduced me to this plight will, in fourteen years from now, have to lament as I am lamenting. Bereft of their husbands and sons, they will enter the city by this road, having offered oblations of water to their dead relatives at the river.’
“O Dhṛtarāṣṭra, the learned and self-controlled Dhaumya, holding blades of kusha pointed south, uttered the Sāma Veda, thinking, ‘When all the Kauravas are killed their priests will sing these same mantras.’”
Vidura told the king how Hastināpura’s citizens were condemning the Kuru chiefs and wailing with sorrow. While the brothers were leaving, everyone saw the many evil omens. Lightning flashed from a cloudless sky and the earth trembled. The sun was eclipsed and meteors fell. Jackals yelped from all directions, and vultures and ravens shrieked from the temples of the gods. “All these signs portend the destruction of our race, O King. This is only the result of your own evil desires.” Vidura looked at Dhṛtarāṣṭra, who sat wringing his hands and saying nothing.
Just at that moment the great Ṛṣi Nārada suddenly appeared, surrounded by other powerful sages. He stood before Dhṛtarāṣṭra and said gravely, “On the fourteenth year from now, for Duryodhana’s fault, Bhīma and Arjuna will destroy the Kauravas.”
After saying this, Nārada rose upwards into the sky with the other ṛṣis and disappeared. All the Kurus were gripped by fear. Nārada’s words could not prove false. Seeing war as inevitable, Duryodhana, Karṇa and Śakuni approached Droṇa to offer him command of the army. Droṇa said, “The Brahmins have said that the Pāṇḍavas are of divine origin and cannot be killed. Out of fear of those heroes, however, you have sought my shelter and I cannot refuse. Destiny is supreme. I shall do everything in my power to protect you, even though the Pāṇḍavas are allied with Drupada, whose son was born to kill me. Thus I too must be about to die. O Kurus, enjoy while you can. Offer sacrifice and give charity freely. At the end of fourteen years, calamity will overtake us all.”
Droṇa spoke in Dhṛtarāṣṭra’s hearing. The old king found himself more and more anxious as he thought of the injustice for which he had been responsible. Now his son had everything he wanted, but how long could it last? Enmity with the Pāṇḍavas would be dangerous even for the gods. Dhṛtarāṣṭra’s thoughts went back to the day Duryodhana was born. Why had he not then listened to Vidura’s advice? Even then his affection for his son had overpowered all his judgment and reason. Now he was about to face the consequences for his sentimental weakness.The king called for his secretary Sañjaya, who, although a charioteer and śūdra by birth, was Vyāsadeva’s disciple and his own friend. Sañjaya had often been able to console Dhṛtarāṣṭra with his wisdom. When he arrived he saw the king sitting with his head bowed, sighing repeatedly. With a wry smile the charioteer said, “O King, you have now obtained the whole earth and all its wealth. Why then do you grieve?”
Dhṛtarāṣṭra shook his head. “What do they not have to grieve for who will have to meet in battle those foremost of fighters, the Pāṇḍavas?”
Sañjaya spoke frankly. “This, O King, is your own fault. You have created a hostility which will destroy the world. Although Bhīṣma, Droṇa and Vidura condemned Duryodhana’s behavior, your wicked son had the beloved and virtuous Draupadī dragged into the assembly hall and cruelly insulted. Why did you not check him? Surely the gods deprive that man of his reason to whom they have ordained defeat and disgrace. He sees everything in a strange light. When destruction is at hand, his mind is polluted by sin and evil then appears as good. That which is improper appears proper, while that which is proper appears otherwise.”
Sitting alone with his secretary, Dhṛtarāṣṭra listened sorrowfully to his words, which he knew were moral and true. The king held his head as Sañjaya continued.
“By dragging the chaste and ascetic Pāñcālī into the hall, the Kauravas, wretches that they are, have brought upon themselves wholesale destruction. Who else but Duryodhana and his wicked allies could have so abused Drupada’s divinely born daughter, dragging her into the hall when she was in her season and covered with blood? There she saw her husbands, robbed of their wealth, kingdom and even their dress, and forced into slavery. Bound by ties of virtue they were unable to exert their prowess. But, O King, the time will soon come when we shall see their power displayed.”
Dhṛtarāṣṭra’s voice faltered as he replied. “O Sañjaya, Draupadī’s pained glances can consume the whole world. What chance is there for even one of my sons to survive? All the Kuru women, headed by Gāndhārī, sent up a frightful wail when Dushashana seized Draupadī. Even now they weep along with my subjects. Enraged at Draupadī’s persecution, the Brahmins refused to perform their fire sacrifices. We see fearful omens all around the kingdom. It seems our destruction is near at hand. Surely this is the influence of all-powerful destiny.”
After speaking in this way for some time, the king dismissed Sañjaya and sat alone in his chamber throughout the night, the gambling match replaying in his mind again and again.
* * *
The Pāṇḍavas left Hastināpura by the northern gate, accompanied by a number of servants. As they were leaving the city, the crowds looked on and openly criticized the Kuru elders.
“When the wicked Duryodhana aspires to this kingdom we are all lost. Our wealth, families, homes and even our selves are gone. Ruled by that sinful, malicious, avaricious man, who is aided only by other sinful men, we are doomed. How can we find any happiness? Let us follow these virtuous heroes to the forest.”
A few citizens approached Yudhiṣṭhira. “Where will you go leaving us behind? We are distressed to learn of your defeat by deceitful means. Take us with you. We do not wish to meet with destruction by living in the kingdom of a sinful king. By such association we will be polluted by sin, whereas by associating with you, we will be uplifted to the highest level of virtue.”
Yudhiṣṭhira folded his palms and replied, “We are indeed blessed, as the people, with the Brahmins at their head, credit us with merits we do not possess. I, with all my brothers, would ask you to do one thing for the sake of the love you bear us. The king along with our grandfather Bhīṣma, the wise Vidura, our mother Kuntī and our friends are in Hastināpura. Please stay here and cherish them. Only this will satisfy me.”
The citizens cried out in pain. Sorrowfully they unwillingly retraced their steps back into the city, thinking only of the Pāṇḍavas.
When the citizens were gone, the Pāṇḍavas ascended their chariots and moved toward the north. At dusk they arrived on the bank of the Ganges and found the great banyan tree known as Pramāṇa. They decided to spend the night there and thus dismounted their chariots and bathed in the Ganges. As darkness fell the many Brahmins who had followed the brothers lit their sacred fires, which cast an orange glow into the blackness of the night. Those holy ṛṣis sitting around the fire chanting Vedic mantras in melodic tones soothed the Pāṇḍavas. Surrounded by such self-realized souls, Yudhiṣṭhira and his brothers again shone resplendent like celestials in the heavens.
In the morning the brothers prepared to enter the forest. They sat before the sacred fire and offered prayers to the gods to invoke auspiciousness. Then they asked the Brahmins to bless them and allow them to leave. Yudhiṣṭhira spoke sorrowfully. “We were robbed of our kingdom, wealth and everything else we possessed. O best of men, we will not be able to maintain you as is our duty. In the forest we will have to subsist on fruits and wild roots. The forest is also filled with dangerous beasts and serpents. Please therefore return to Hastināpura. The suffering of Brahmins can overwhelm even the gods, what to speak of ourselves. I do not wish to be the cause of your privations, O holy ones.”
The Brahmins’ leader, Shaunaka, replied, “O King, we will go with you. Do not be anxious about how we will survive. We shall procure our own food and take great delight in an ascetic life. By our prayers and meditations we shall do you good, and we shall keep you entertained with our recitations from the holy scriptures.”
“I do not doubt that it must be as you say,” replied Yudhiṣṭhira. “I am always pleased to be in the company of Brahmins. But now I am destitute. My brothers are anguished on my account and I see myself as reproachable. How shall I now see you, who do not deserve to suffer, subsist on food you have procured yourself. Alas! Fie upon Dhṛtarāṣṭra’s wicked sons.”
Yudhiṣṭhira sat and wept with his head in his hands. In Indraprastha he had maintained tens of thousands of Brahmins. Now he could not provide food for even a few.
Seeing the king feeling so dejected, Shaunaka consoled him by speaking from the Vedas. “A thousand causes of grief and a hundred causes of fear overwhelm the ignorant day by day, but they never overwhelm those who are learned. O King, intelligent men like you are never cast into illusion. You cannot be bewildered by reverses, knowing full well the eternal truths of the Vedas. Bring that wisdom to mind now, O Yudhiṣṭhira.”
Shaunaka explained how the root of suffering is attachment to matter. As a fire in the hollow of a tree consumes the whole tree to its roots, so a small attachment, if nurtured, can destroy a man. One who has renounced attachment, even though living in the world, becomes free from evil passions and the suffering they produce.
Yudhiṣṭhira listened attentively, taking delight in the knowledge he had heard spoken so many times. He never tired of hearing it. Shaunaka told him that the desire for wealth and opulence, which could never be alleviated, is man’s worst enemy. The highest happiness comes from contentment, while the struggle for wealth, fame, followers and the association of loved ones is the cause of bondage and ultimately pain.
“Therefore, O King, you should not covet anything. Do not desire to accumulate wealth even for virtuous purposes. It is better never to have touched mud than to wash it off after being covered in it. If you wish to acquire virtue, then free yourself from all desires for wealth.”
Yudhiṣṭhira was puzzled. “O Ṛṣi, I do not desire anything for myself. I only wish to have enough wealth to support the Brahmins. What use is there in leading a householder’s life if he cannot cherish and support his dependents? Is it not the duty of a householder to maintain both his family members and the brahmacārīs and renunciants? So too should a householder welcome guests and travelers. This is said to be the path to religious merit. What is your opinion, O learned Brahmin?”
“Alas, this world is full of contradictions,” Shaunaka replied. “That which makes the good and honest ashamed pleases the wicked. Moved by ignorance and passion men act simply to gratify their stomachs and sex organs. When the senses come in contact with their objects a desire springs up in the heart to enjoy those objects. Blinded by desire, men become absorbed in following the dictates of the senses, which they mistake for real happiness.”
Shaunaka explained that even pious men may be overpowered by desires when associating with the world and its enjoyable objects. Yudhiṣṭhira had already achieved success in his householder life. Now, without attachment or material desire, he should concentrate on his practice of yoga and austerity in order to attain full spiritual success. By his spiritual power he would then be able to support the Brahmins.
Yudhiṣṭhira thanked the ṛṣi for his instructions, which he said he would follow. Then, still desiring to find the means by which he could maintain those ascetics who wished to accompany him into the forest, the king asked Dhaumya’s advice. “O great sage, I cannot abandon the Brahmins, but at the same time, I have no power to provide for them. What should I do?”
Dhaumya reflected on Yudhiṣṭhira’s question for some minutes, then he replied, “Long ago all created beings were afflicted by hunger. Thereupon Sūrya took compassion upon them. Drawing up water with his rays he stayed over the earth. Then the moon, by his cooling powers, converted the resultant vapors into clouds. Then rain fell, and by the combination of sun and rain food was brought forth from the earth. Thus all beings are actually supported by the sun. Take shelter of the sun-god, O King, and you will be able to fulfill your purposes.”
Dhaumya explained to Yudhiṣṭhira how the great kings of the past had all protected and delivered their subjects by virtue of their own ascetic meditation and vows. The Pāṇḍava immediately understood. In order to secure the means to support the Brahmins, he should worship the sun-god with an ascetic vow. Thus he asked the sage what means he should follow.
Dhaumya instructed Yudhiṣṭhira in the 108 names of the sun, as well as the Vedic prayers he should recite. Then Yudhiṣṭhira entered the Ganges, stood facing the sun, and offered numerous prayers and worship to its deity. He took neither food nor water for several days, and controlled his breathing through the process of prāṇāyama-yoga. Renouncing sleep, the king continuously praised the sun-god from the waters of the Ganges.
Three days later the blazing sun-god appeared before Yudhiṣṭhira and said, “I am pleased with your prayers and austerities, O King. You shall get all that you desire. I shall provide you with food for the twelve years of your exile in the forest.”
The god gave to Yudhiṣṭhira a large copper plate with the following instruction: “When Pāñcālī has cooked a meal she should place the food on this dish. That food will then be inexhaustible in quantity until the time when she herself eats. You can thus feed any number of men from this plate, O King.”
The god then rose into the sky and vanished, adding, “You will regain your kingdom in fourteen years from now.”
Yudhiṣṭhira came out of the river with the plate and took hold of Dhaumya’s feet in worship. With great happiness he embraced his brothers and then handed the mystical plate to Draupadī. She immediately cooked a meal and placed it upon the dish. After offering the food to the Lord with appropriate prayers, she served the Brahmins. To her amazement and delight she saw that as she served from the plate, the food was immediately replenished. It was only when she took her own meal after serving her husbands that she saw the dish finally empty.
When they had eaten, the Pāṇḍavas, blessed by auspicious rites and Vedic prayers, set out for the forest of Kāmyaka, accompanied by hundreds of Brahmins.
Dhṛtarāṣṭra’s Anxiety
In Hastināpura Dhṛtarāṣṭra was becoming increasingly sorrowful. Needing solace, he called for Vidura and said, “O Khattwa, your intelligence is no less than that of the great Bhārgava. You are acquainted with all the subtleties of dharma. You regard all the Kurus equally; tell me therefore what is good for me and for them. Now that things have taken this course, what should we do? How can we again secure the citizens’ faith and love? And especially, how can we avoid total annihilation of our race?”
Vidura replied, “O King, religion, as well as economic development and sense pleasure, depend upon virtue. A kingdom’s success also rests upon virtue. Therefore, O best of men, cherish and love both your own sons and the sons of Pāṇḍu. You destroyed virtue when you allowed your sons, headed by Śakuni, to play dice with Yudhiṣṭhira. The only way you can now atone for this evil and win praise in this world is to return the Pāṇḍavas their kingdom. Be satisfied with what is rightfully yours and do not covet others’ possessions.”
Dhṛtarāṣṭra shifted uncomfortably in his seat. This was not the advice he had wanted to hear. He was more interested in knowing how the Kauravas could secure their present position. Destiny had conferred upon them sovereignty of the entire earth. Now they needed to strengthen their position in order to rule it successfully. What help would it be to concede the kingdom to their most powerful enemies? Dhṛtarāṣṭra felt his anger rising as Vidura continued to speak.
“O descendent of Bharata, I once told you to abandon Duryodhana. Had you listened to me then you would not be repenting now. You can still do it. Cast aside Duryodhana and bring Yudhiṣṭhira back as the monarch. Let your sons and their followers wait upon the Pāṇḍavas. Have Dushashana apologize to Draupadī in the open court, and he should also beg Bhīma’s pardon. This will be good for all of us and it will also save the kingdom from destruction. What else can I advise you at such a time?”
Dhṛtarāṣṭra’s anger boiled over. It seemed that Vidura always sided with the Pāṇḍavas and never favored him or his sons. Placing his hand on his bejeweled scepter, he said, “O Vidura, you speak only to please the Pāṇḍavas and do not care to please me. I do not approve of your words. How do you expect me to abandon my own flesh and blood for another’s sake? Although the Pāṇḍavas are as good as my sons, Duryodhana has sprung from my body. You ask me to leave my own body aside in order to favor another’s. Although I hold you in great esteem, today I find your words crooked. I therefore reject them. You may stay here or go away as you please. I no longer require your advice. However well an unchaste wife is treated, she always forsakes her husband.”
Dhṛtarāṣṭra rose suddenly and stalked off into his inner chambers. Vidura shook his head sadly and said, “This race is doomed.” He decided to follow the Pāṇḍavas into the forest and made preparations for his departure.
* * *
Leaving aside their chariots and carrying only their weapons, the Pāṇḍavas had begun to travel in a westerly direction, going from forest to forest. They passed through Kurukṣetra and crossed over the rivers Yamunā, Drishadwati and Sarasvatī. Finally, on the banks of the Sarasvatī, they saw the great Kāmyaka forest. Many ascetics lined the river bank while performing their sacrifices and austerities. The Pāṇḍavas entered the Kāmyaka and built thatched huts in which to live. In the company of the Brahmins they began to devote their time to sacrifice and scriptural study.
One evening, as they sat by the sacred fire listening to Brahmins recite Vedic histories, the brothers heard a chariot approaching. They looked up and saw Vidura coming toward them. Surprised, Yudhiṣṭhira said to Bhīma, “Why is Vidura here? Has he been sent to fetch us for yet another game of dice? Does the mean-minded Śakuni wish to take from us even our weapons?”
The Pāṇḍavas rose from the fire and greeted Vidura with all respects. They settled him in their midst and after inquiring about his welfare, Yudhiṣṭhira offered Vidura refreshments and a place to rest. The following day, Vidura related to the brothers what had transpired in Hastināpura.
“O Ajātaśatru, I told the king what was beneficial for him, but he did not care to listen. As the unchaste wife of a noble man can never be brought back to virtue, so the king will not take to the right path. He will never meet with good fortune. As water falling upon a lotus leaf rolls off, so my counsel had no effect on him. He has sent me away with harsh words.”
The Pāṇḍavas consoled Vidura, and he said, “I shall now tell you what, in my opinion, will be conducive to your ultimate success. You should bide your time patiently and find ways to increase your strength. Perform asceticism and worship the gods. This will help you gain power. Always speak the truth and be kind to your dependents and followers. Share your food with them and never boast in their presence. This conduct increases the prosperity of kings.”
Yudhiṣṭhira thanked Vidura for his advice, which he said he would follow. Then another chariot was heard approaching. This time it was Sañjaya coming toward them. Dhṛtarāṣṭra’s charioteer bowed before Yudhiṣṭhira and was graciously received with kind words of welcome. When he was comfortably seated, he explained to Yudhiṣṭhira why he had come.
“Having dispatched Vidura with cruel words, the king is consumed by repentance and sorrow. This morning he entered the assembly hall and fell senseless to the floor. When he regained consciousness he said to the assembled kings, ‘My brother Vidura is like the god of justice, Yamarāja. Remembering him, my heart burns with anguish and grief.’”
Sañjaya continued, “The king told me to fetch Vidura back to Hastināpura. He said, ‘Go quickly, O Sañjaya, and see whether my brother, whom I angrily sent away with harsh words, lives or not. He has never done me the slightest wrong. Rather he has suffered at my hands. Bring him here soon before I give up my life.’”
Sañjaya turned to Vidura. “O descendent of Kuru, please return to the city and revive the king. This is his order.”
Even though Dhṛtarāṣṭra seemed quite unable to heed his good advice, Vidura decided to return. He loved his elder brother. He knew that Dhṛtarāṣṭra was intelligent, despite his foolish behavior. Vidura felt that if he was near the king and able to offer counsel, then at least there would be a chance that he would come to his senses.
After taking Yudhiṣṭhira’s permission, Vidura returned to Hastināpura and went to see Dhṛtarāṣṭra who was overjoyed to see him. The king said, “O virtuous and sinless one, by good fortune have I got you back. I could not sleep last night, thinking I was lost.”
Vidura replied that he had forgiven Dhṛtarāṣṭra his insult. “You are my guru and worthy of my highest respect. I came here swiftly when Sañjaya told me of your desire. O King, it is only natural that any virtuous man feels inclined toward helping the distressed. Both your sons and those of Pāṇḍu are equally dear to me, but because the Pāṇḍavas are now in distress I feel compassion more for them.”
With apologetic words the two brothers continued speaking together for some while, happy to be reunited.
* * *
Duryodhana, however, was not pleased to see Vidura return. He summoned Śakuni, Karṇa and Dushashana and said, “The intelligent Vidura has returned. He is always inclined toward the Pāṇḍavas. Before he manages to convince the king to bring the Pāṇḍavas back, let us consider what should be done. If I ever again see the Pāṇḍavas flourish, I shall not be able to maintain my life.”
Śakuni laughed. “What folly are you speaking, O King? The Pāṇḍavas have already left for the forest. They will be gone for the next thirteen years. They agreed to accept the wager and will never deviate from truth. Even if your father does ask them to return, they would not agree to do so until their exile has expired. Anyway, we do not need to be afraid. We need only to pretend that we agree with your father and await an opportunity to overcome them again.”
Dushashana applauded Śakuni’s words. “I like your advice, uncle.”
Karṇa looked at Duryodhana, who was still uneasy. “O King, all of us here are your friends and well-wishers. We shall always support you against the Pāṇḍavas. You have nothing to fear. But I agree with Śakuni. The brothers will not break their vow. If somehow they do return, then we can find some means to again defeat them.”
Duryodhana turned away from his counselors. He stood and looked out the latticed window at the beautiful palace gardens. He breathed heavily and ground his teeth. How could he be happy as long as those Pāṇḍavas were still alive?
Karṇa said, “I know what you are thinking, O ruler of men. I share your feelings. We must root out the Pāṇḍavas once and for all. The dice game has not settled the issue, because the Pāṇḍavas still live.”
Karṇa’s handsome face contorted with anger as he thought of Arjuna, his old rival. He longed to face him in battle. Thirteen years was a long time to wait. Striding back and forth, Karṇa went on passionately. “Here is my honest opinion, O King. Now let us put on our armor and take up our weapons, mount our chariots and go in force to the forest. We will find the Pāṇḍavas and kill them. This is a good time, while they are destitute and weakened by sorrow. They have no power and no influence. We will easily be able to defeat them.”
Everyone was stirred by Karṇa’s strong words. His was the right solution. Without hesitation Duryodhana arranged for a large force to accompany him; with Karṇa and his brothers by his side, he set out for the forest.
On their way out of the city, however, they met Vyāsadeva. The sage had seen Duryodhana’s plan by his spiritual vision. He ordered Duryodhana to return to the palace. The prince felt chastened, but he dared not defy the ṛṣi’s order, fearing the power of his curse.
Vyāsadeva then went to see Dhṛtarāṣṭra. When he had been properly received and worshipped, he said, “O greatly wise Dhṛtarāṣṭra, listen as I tell you what is best for the Kurus. I am not at all pleased that the Pāṇḍavas have been sent to the forest through dishonest means. If you do not return their kingdom, then, at the end of the thirteen years, they will not have forgotten their enmity. Without doubt they will kill the Kauravas.”
Vyāsadeva sat upon an elevated seat in the Kuru assembly. He looked at the king, who sat surrounded by his ministers and counselors. They all listened respectfully as the sage continued. “Your foolish son now desires to slay the Pāṇḍavas. You should check him. If he tries to kill those heroes in the forest, he will lose his own life. O descendent of Bharata, Duryodhana regards the Pāṇḍavas with such envy that unless you interfere in his schemes, he will cause the Kuru race to be destroyed.
“O King, why not send Duryodhana to the forest to serve the Pāṇḍavas? He will then be out of harm’s way. Perhaps the virtuous Pāṇḍavas will even come to like him, although I am doubtful. The nature a man acquires at birth stays with him all his life. It seems impossible that Duryodhana would ever be able to humble himself before the Pāṇḍavas or before anyone else.”
The sage looked around the assembly. “What do Bhīṣma, Droṇa and Vidura think? What is your view, O King? You should do the right thing immediately, otherwise your happiness will be destroyed.”
Dhṛtarāṣṭra lifted a hand decked with gleaming rings and placed it against his forehead. Sighing, he replied, “O illustrious one, I did not like this gambling business from the beginning. I think I was forced to give my consent by irresistible destiny. Neither Bhīṣma, Droṇa, Vidura, nor the Queen Gāndhārī, liked the dice game. I have no doubt that it happened under the Lord’s deluding potency, maya. I knew all this at the time, but due to my paternal love I was unable to abandon the envious Duryodhana.”
“O King, I can understand how you feel. The son is always a man’s most dear object. But why do you not also see the Pāṇḍavas as your sons? They are suffering distress. Why do you not feel compassion for them now? I am now addressing you as my own son. I feel the same love for my other two sons, Pāṇḍu and Vidura. You have one hundred and one sons and Pāṇḍu has only five. When I think of Pāṇḍu’s sons I wonder only how I may help them. O best of men, if you wish to keep all the Kurus alive, then order Duryodhana to make peace with the Pāṇḍavas.”
Dhṛtarāṣṭra slowly shook his head, his brilliant crown catching the sun rays pouring through the windows. “O wise Ṛṣi, it is exactly as you say. I know it well, as do all these kings. I have already heard the same advice from Bhīṣma, Vidura and Droṇa. Somehow, I cannot follow that advice. Please therefore be gracious to the Kurus and instruct my wicked son to take the righteous path.”
Vyāsadeva, who could see past, present and future, said, “Soon the illustrious Ṛṣi Maitreya will visit after having visited the Pāṇḍavas. He will admonish your son for the sake of the Kuru’s welfare. Follow his advice without hesitation. Otherwise he will curse your son.” Vyāsadeva then stood and left the assembly.
As Vyāsadeva predicted, Maitreya Ṛṣi soon arrived. The itinerant ascetic, who carried only a staff and a water pot, was received with all respect by Dhṛtarāṣṭra and his sons. They worshipped him with offerings of arghya and other rites. Dhṛtarāṣṭra then offered him a jewel-encrusted seat in the assembly. When the sage was seated comfortably the king asked, “O illustrious one, was your journey from the forest a pleasant one? Are the heroes, the five Pāṇḍava brothers, living there happily? Will they spend the full thirteen years there? How will the brotherly affection between my sons and nephews be restored?”
Maitreya looked around the assembly. “While on a pilgrimage I came to the Kāmyaka forest and met Yudhiṣṭhira and his brothers. They now wear deerskins and have matted their hair, and they live there surrounded by ṛṣis. I heard from them of the grave errors Duryodhana committed and of the terrible danger that you now face as a result. Therefore, I have come here to offer some advice. My affection for you is great and I always wish you well.”
The sage asked how it was possible that the king was overlooking Duryodhana’s evil acts. How could both Dhṛtarāṣṭra and Bhīṣma have allowed him to create such enmity with the Pāṇḍavas?
“You are the monarch here,” the ṛṣi said solemnly. “You are thus able to punish wrong-doers. For having allowed wicked acts to be perpetrated in your own assembly hall, O King, you have been condemned by the sages. Do you not fear the consequences?”
Maitreya turned toward Duryodhana, who scowled at his words. The sage spoke softly. “O mighty-armed hero, I utter words meant only for your good, as well as that of the Kurus, the Pāṇḍavas and indeed the whole world. Do not quarrel with the Pāṇḍavas. They are all as powerful as thousands of mighty elephants. They are virtuous and possessed of great prowess. With his bare hands, Bhīma has slain three powerful Rākṣasas, enemies of the celestials who were capable of assuming any form at will. He killed these three--Hiḍimba, Baka and Kirmira--as easily as a tiger kills small deer. Do you remember how that same Bhīma killed, in single combat, the invincible Jarāsandha? Who is foolish enough to create enmity with such heroes, having as they do Kṛṣṇa, Drupada and Drupada’s sons as their allies? Take my advice, dear child, and make peace with them. Do not bring this danger upon yourself.”
Duryodhana looked away and made no reply. He exposed his thigh and slapped it loudly, then hung his head. Then stretching his leg as if bored, he scratched the ground with his foot.
When he saw Duryodhana’s impudence, Maitreya’s eyes turned red with anger. He touched holy water and, holding the sacred thread hanging from his shoulder, said in a voice like thunder, “O insolent one, since you slight my words and pay no heed to my advice you shall soon reap the result. In the great war which will spring from the wrongs you have perpetrated, Bhīma will smash your thigh with his mace.”
Dhṛtarāṣṭra immediately became alarmed. He sought to console and gratify Maitreya with gentle words, asking him to be merciful toward Duryodhana. Maitreya said that if Duryodhana made peace with the Pāṇḍavas, the curse would be lifted. Otherwise it would not be reversed.
Dhṛtarāṣṭra felt a little relieved, having managed to mitigate Maitreya’s curse. He then said, “O Ṛṣi, we have heard how Bhīma destroyed Hiḍimba and Baka, but not Kirmira. Who was this demon? What was his strength and how was he killed? We wish to know everything.”
Maitreya replied, “I will not speak any further to this assembly because Duryodhana has rejected my words. Vidura knows well the history of Kirmira.” And with that the sage rose and left the city.
When the offended sage was gone, Dhṛtarāṣṭra asked Vidura to relate the story. Vidura replied, “O King, I heard this story from Yudhiṣṭhira when I spoke to him in the forest. Having left Hastināpura the Pāṇḍavas traveled for three days and nights, finally arriving at the Kāmyaka forest. As they moved through this forest during the fearful hours of the night they encountered a terrible Rākṣasa with flaming eyes. He stood as tall as a tree and held a blazing torch. With arms and legs outstretched like the branches of a huge sal tree, he blocked the Pāṇḍavas’ path. He had eight fangs protruding from his wide open mouth, and his eyes were the color of copper. His flaming red hair stood erect and he resembled a mass of clouds charged with lightning and adorned by a flock of cranes. Roaring like thunder he spread the Rākṣasa illusion and confounded the Pāṇḍavas’ senses.”
The assembly listened spellbound as Vidura told the story. “Birds and other creatures dropped down everywhere simply from hearing the demon’s awful cries. Deer, buffaloes, leopards and bears fled terrified in all directions. The forest itself seemed to be moving due to all the fleeing creatures. A violent wind blew up and dust clouds swirled. Even as grief is the greatest enemy of the five senses, so that Rākṣasa appeared to the five Pāṇḍavas. “Spying the brothers from a distance, clad in their deerskins and carrying weapons, the Rākṣasa obstructed their path like the Maināka mountain. When Draupadī saw the horrifying creature, she closed her eyes and stood amid her husbands like an agitated river amid five hills. Dhaumya at once uttered Vedic mantras to counter the demon’s illusions, and the wind ceased and the dust settled. Seeing his power checked, the Rākṣasa opened his eyes in anger--he looked like Death himself.
“Yudhiṣṭhira was stern. ‘Who are you? What do you want of us?’
“The Rākṣasa replied, ‘I am Kirmira, the brother of Baka. I live comfortably in this uninhabited forest. I eat all men foolish enough to come here. Who are you that have come today to become my food?’
“‘We are the five sons of Pāṇḍu,’ Yudhiṣṭhira answered. ‘We have been exiled from our kingdom and desire to spend our time in this forest, which is your dominion.’
“When their identity was disclosed, the Rākṣasa bellowed in joy. ‘Ha! What good luck. Fate has today accomplished my long-cherished desire. I have wandered around in the hope of finding Bhīma, my brother’s killer. Now he stands here before me at the dead of night, when my power is greatest, and when I am hungry. Disguised as a Brahmin this wretch slew my brother and stole his sister. I shall now wreak my vengeance on him. I will kill him and offer his blood to Baka’s departed soul. In this way, I shall be freed of my debt to my brother. I shall devour Bhīma, digesting him even as Agastya digested the Asura Vātāpi.’
“Yudhiṣṭhira rebuked the Rākṣasa. ‘This can never be.’ The mighty Bhīma at once tore up a huge tree and stripped it of its branches, and in the twinkling of an eye Arjuna had strung his bow and stood with an arrow at the ready. But Bhīma stopped his brother and advanced alone to face the demon. Tightening his waist cloth, he shouted an angry challenge. ‘Stay and fight!’ Armed with the tree he rushed toward him. As Indra hurls his thunderbolt Bhīma brought down the tree with force upon the Rākṣasa’s head. The tree smashed to pieces while the demon remained unmoved. He hurled his flaming brand at Bhīma and it flew toward him like a streak of lightning. Bhīma dropped quickly to the ground and turned the torch away with his left foot.
“Roaring terribly the Rākṣasa himself tore up a great tree and rushed at Bhīma like Yamarāja bearing his death-dealing staff. The two combatants pulled up tree after tree and hurled and smashed them together as they fought. The battle resembled the fight of old between Vāli and Sugrīva and soon a large area of the forest had been stripped of trees. The angry demon then lifted and hurled a massive rock at Bhīma, who caught the boulder and tossed it back. Kirmira rushed at Bhīma with outstretched arms, even as Rāhu goes to devour the sun. They grappled together, rolling about on the earth like a couple of infuriated bulls locked in mortal combat.
“The fight was fierce and hard, lasting for almost an hour. Bhīma, proud of his strength, was conscious of Draupadī watching him. Then he remembered Duryodhana’s insults toward the princess. Looking at the demon as if he were the Kaurava, Bhīma’s anger swelled. He seized the Rākṣasa like one maddened elephant seizing another. Kirmira also seized the Pāṇḍava, but Bhīma lifted him and threw him down violently. He then took hold of the demon by the waist and began to shake him as trees are shaken by the wind. Even as he was being shaken, the demon reached up and with all his strength grasped hold of Bhīma by the neck. Bhīma repeatedly lifted and smashed the Rākṣasa down, even as the demon gripped him with hands like steel vices.
“The earth shook and the forest echoed with the sound of Kirmira’s body striking the ground. He roared fearfully like a discordant trumpet. Bhīma lifted him and whirled him around with tremendous power. Seeing that the Rākṣasa had fallen unconscious, Bhīma threw him to the ground. He placed his knees on his chest and strangled him. As the demon died, Bhīma said, ‘O sinful wretch, you need no longer wipe away the tears of Baka and Hiḍimba’s relatives, for you are now going to join them.’
“Leaving Kirmira’s body lying on the path, devoid of clothes and ornaments, Bhīma rejoined his brothers. They gathered round him and praised him. Again placing Draupadī in the center of their party, they entered deeper into the forest.”
The assembly was amazed to hear this story. Vidura concluded, “This is what I heard from Yudhiṣṭhira. When I was passing through the forest I saw for myself the Rākṣasa’s body after being smashed by Bhīma’s blows.”
Dhṛtarāṣṭra sighed and said nothing. He was becoming increasingly anxious. Bhīma had promised to kill all his sons. Who or what could ever prevent him from fulfilling his promise? The king’s heart burned with fear and anguish.
Yudhiṣṭhira’s Moral Instructions
When Kṛṣṇa heard the news that the Pāṇḍavas had been exiled, He decided to go and see them in the forest. He invited Balarāma, Dṛṣṭadyumna, Śikhaṇḍī and many other kings to accompany Him, along with Subhadrā and her son, and together they rode to the Kāmyaka forest. Seeing Yudhiṣṭhira and his brothers dressed in deerskins and stripped of their kingdom, both Balarāma and Kṛṣṇa were enraged.
Kṛṣṇa said, “I cannot tolerate this injustice. The earth shall drink the blood of Duryodhana, Karṇa, Śakuni and that fourth one, Dushashana. After we kill them and their followers, we will install Dharmarāja on the throne. Those cunning men deserve to be slain. This is quite in accord with the eternal morality.”
Kṛṣṇa’s anger blazed. It seemed as if He were about to consume the creation. Arjuna quickly sought to pacify Him by recollecting His many wonderful deeds.
“O Kṛṣṇa, the great Ṛṣi Vyāsadeva has told me that You are the cause of creation, the mover of all minds and the beginning and end of all things. All asceticism rests in You, who are the embodiment of all sacrifice and the eternal Supreme Person. All the gods depend upon You and You are the origin of the universal creator Brahmā. O mighty-armed Keśava, You have appeared many times on earth in different incarnations.”
Accepting Kṛṣṇa as the cause of even the almighty Viṣṇu, Arjuna described the various Viṣṇu-avatāras who had appeared in past ages. “O Kṛṣṇa, as Narasiṁha You slew the mighty Asura Hiraṇyakaśipu; as Aditi’s son, Vāmana, You spanned the entire universe with three steps. O soul of all beings, covering the heavens, You dwell in the body of the sun and imbue him with Your own effulgence.”
Arjuna went on to describe Kṛṣṇa’s activities in His present appearance. “You have killed numerous demonic kings who were fierce enemies of even the gods. O Janārdana, You have manifest here on earth the sacred and eternal city Dwārakā, which abounds in opulence and is always crowded with ṛṣis. Envy, untruth, malice and cruelty are absent in You, who are always the well-wishing friend of all creatures. Nārada has told me that at the end of the yuga all things, mobile and immobile, will enter Your body. O Kṛṣṇa, there is no limit to Your glories. I have spoken of only a minute part.”
As he spoke, Arjuna felt himself becoming overpowered by transcendental ecstasy. His voice choked up and he was unable to continue. Pleased and pacified by Arjuna’s expression of love, Kṛṣṇa said, “You are Mine and I am yours. All that is Mine is yours. He who hates you also hates Me, and he who follows you also follows Me. Formerly you were Nara and I was Nārāyaṇa. Though individuals, we are as one. No one can understand our oneness and difference.”
Draupadī, her dark beauty enhanced by her soft deerskin clothes, came forward with folded palms and said to Kṛṣṇa. “O irrepressible one, all the great ṛṣis have described You as the Supreme Person. The entire universe exists in You and You are the refuge of all ascetics and sages. Even as children sport with their toys, so do You sport with the celestials. Those seeking Your protection are never overcome by calamity. O slayer of demons, how is it then that one like me, the wife of the Pāṇḍavas, the sister of Dṛṣṭadyumna and Your friend, could have been so insulted by the Kauravas?”
Draupadī’s dark eyes filled with tears as she spoke. Subhadrā also wept as she stood with her arm around Draupadī’s shoulder. As she recalled the dice game Draupadī became angry. “Why, O Kṛṣṇa, did my five powerful husbands sit silently while I was humiliated by wicked men of no importance? Fie upon Bhīma’s arms and Arjuna’s celebrated Gāṇḍīva, for they could not protect a woman in distress, not even their wife. Fie upon Bhīṣma and Dhṛtarāṣṭra! Although I am their daughter-in-law they were prepared to see me a slave.”
Draupadī hid her face with her soft hands, which resembled lotus buds. Her shoulders shook as she cried. Regaining her composure after a few moments, she took a deep breath and concluded, “O Kṛṣṇa, You are my only shelter. I deserve Your protection for four reasons: due to our family relationship, our friendship, the respect You bear for me and the fact that You are my Lord.”
Kṛṣṇa replied, “O fair lady, you will see the wives of those with whom you are angry weep as you now weep when their husbands lie dead on the battlefield, their bodies covered with arrows and weltering in blood. Do not grieve. I shall do for the Pāṇḍavas whatever lies within My power. You shall be the queen of kings. I speak the truth. The heavens may fall and the Himālayas move, the earth may be rent and the ocean dry up, but know for certain, O Draupadī, that My words will never prove false.”
Draupadī was solaced by Kṛṣṇa’s words. She did not doubt that He acted only for her ultimate welfare. The princess glanced across at Arjuna, who said, “O lotus-eyed lady, do not weep. What Kṛṣṇa has said will come to pass. It cannot be otherwise.”
Standing by his sister’s side Dṛṣṭadyumna declared, “I shall slay Droṇa, our brother Śikhaṇḍī will kill Bhīṣma, Bhīma will kill Duryodhana and Arjuna will kill Karṇa, who offered you such unbearable offense in the sabha. Dear sister, with Rāma and Kṛṣṇa’s assistance even Indra cannot conquer us. What then can be said of Dhṛtarāṣṭra’s sons?”
All present now turned again toward Kṛṣṇa. Looking at Yudhiṣṭhira, Kṛṣṇa said, “O lord of the earth, had I not been otherwise engaged at the time, I would have personally come to prevent the gambling match. By pointing out the evils associated with gambling I would have gained the support of Bhīṣma, Droṇa, Kṛpa and Bāhlika. Between us we would surely have swayed the blind king from his crooked purpose.”
The Brahmins present gathered around to hear Kṛṣṇa speak and He glanced at them with affection. “Indulgence in illicit sex, gambling, hunting and intoxication are the four evils which beset men and deprive them of their prosperity. Gambling is particularly marked by the destruction of property, by misfortune and by the squandering of wealth. It leads only to harsh words and enmity.”
Kṛṣṇa said He would have pointed this out to Dhṛtarāṣṭra and if the king did not listen, He would have used force to bring him to his senses. “And if anyone had supported the king in his ignorance, I would have destroyed them all. All this would surely have taken place, O King, if I had not been away from Dwārakā at the time. It was only upon My return that Sātyaki informed Me of the events in Hastināpura. Immediately upon receiving the news I came here. My heart is pained to see you now, overtaken by calamity and sunk into misfortune.”
Yudhiṣṭhira asked Kṛṣṇa where He had been during the gambling match. Kṛṣṇa explained that He had gone to do battle with a king named Shalva, a friend of Śiśupāla. When Shalva heard that Kṛṣṇa had killed Śiśupāla, he went to Dwārakā and attacked the city while Kṛṣṇa was in Indraprastha. Shalva owned a great airship which resembled a flying city. He had received this wonderful airship as a gift from Śiva. In battle he used it as a base from which to attack his foes. Raining down weapons of every kind, he had challenged Kṛṣṇa, not realizing He was absent from Dwārakā. After wreaking havoc in Dwārakā, he had returned to his own city.
Because Yudhiṣṭhira was interested, Kṛṣṇa described in detail the fight that had taken place between Shalva and Dwārakā’s warriors. He then told the Pāṇḍava how, after returning to Dwārakā and hearing of Shalva’s attack, He had gone personally to fight him. A terrible battle ensued. Shalva had acquired great mystic power through his performance of asceticism. While he was fighting with Kṛṣṇa, he created an illusion and seemingly killed Kṛṣṇa’s father Vasudeva right on the battlefield. By his mystic power Shalva also sent showers of arrows, clubs, winged darts, lances, thunderbolts, bullets, rockets, swords, axes and other weapons down upon Kṛṣṇa and His forces. In the end, Kṛṣṇa killed Shalva and destroyed his airship with the Sudarśana chakra.
Kṛṣṇa concluded His narration. “That is why, O Yudhiṣṭhira, I was unable to come to Hastināpura. The dice match took place just after I had slain Shalva and was engaged in restoring Dwārakā back to its former condition. If I had come, Duryodhana would not now be alive and the gambling match would never have taken place. What can I do now? It is difficult to stem the tide when the dam is broken.”
Kṛṣṇa stood up to leave. He could do nothing for the Pāṇḍavas until the end of the thirteen years. He knew that Yudhiṣṭhira and his brothers were too virtuous to break their word. They would doubtlessly remain in the forest for the full period. Kṛṣṇa therefore told them that He would return to see them at the end of their exile. If Duryodhana did not return their kingdom, He said, then He knew there would be a battle in which the Kaurava and his followers would be annihilated.
The Pāṇḍavas bade Kṛṣṇa and His party farewell, and Arjuna especially bid an affectionate goodbye to Subhadrā and their young son Abhimanyu. Closely followed by Dṛṣṭadyumna and the other monarchs, Kṛṣṇa left the forest on His golden chariot, which shone like the sun. As the thunderous sound of the chariot wheels died away into the distance, Yudhiṣṭhira ordered his brothers to make ready for their own departure. He wanted to enter more deeply into the Kāmyaka forest and find a suitable place where they might spend their exile.
Still accompanied by hundreds of Brahmins, the brothers made their way into the forest. After some time they came to a great lake called Dwaitavana. Swans, chakravarkas and other graceful birds swam in its waters and the lake’s edges were crowded with red, blue and white lotuses, which were so fragrant that the air was heavy with their perfume. Numerous fruit trees, loaded with golden fruits, grew all around the lake. Peacocks, cakoras, cuckoos and other birds, all singing beautiful songs, played in the trees. The brothers also saw many Siddhas and Cāraṇas sporting in the woods and on the lakeshore, and numberless ṛṣis sitting motionless at the water’s edge, their minds fixed on the supreme Brahman.
Yudhiṣṭhira was delighted. The area was beautiful. They would live there. The brothers rested beneath a large banyan tree, looking like five great elephants sitting by the side of a mountain. Dhaumya then performed sacred rituals to sanctify the place where they would build their cottages, and then they began construction.
Living in that forest, the Pāṇḍavas resembled a number of Indras amid the celestials. They served the ṛṣis and Brahmins by offering them excellent fruits and roots. Dhaumya and other priests would perform daily sacrificial rites in honor of the gods and the Pāṇḍavas’ ancestors. They thought constantly of Kṛṣṇa and passed their time hearing the Brahmins recite Vedic texts.
Soon after their arrival at Dwaitavana, the ageless Ṛṣi Mārkaṇḍeya visited them. It was said that Mārkaṇḍeya had lived since the dawn of creation and knew of everything that had occurred in the history of the universe. He greeted the Pāṇḍavas with affection and accepted their worship. The ṛṣi, whose body was effulgent with spiritual light and who appeared to be a youth of sixteen, smiled to see them. They reminded him of Rāma and Lakṣman, who had been exiled to the forest hundreds of thousands of years previously. The sage had also visited them.
Since arriving in the forest, Yudhiṣṭhira had felt grief at what he had caused beginning to engulf him. Seeing Mārkaṇḍeya smiling, he asked, “O illustrious one, all these ascetics here are sorry to see our plight. How is it that you alone smile with delight?”
“I am not delighted, my child. Rather, I am amazed at how much your situation resembles the life of Daśaratha’s son, Rāma. He too suffered due to His unfailing truthfulness, and He too lived in the forest, exiled for some years. I remember seeing Him thousands of years ago wandering Mount Rishyamukha with His bow. Like you, Rāma was high-souled and innocent, and like you, He lived in the forest out of filial obedience to His father. This is why I am smiling. No matter how powerful each of us may be, we cannot avoid the calamities that arrive through destiny. No one, therefore, should ever act unrighteously, thinking, ‘I am powerful.’”
Mārkaṇḍeya then assured Yudhiṣṭhira that, like Rāma, he too would regain his kingdom from the Kauravas when his period of exile was over. After promising to come again while they were in the forest, he headed to the north.
* * *
While the Pāṇḍavas dwelt at Dwaitavana the air was constantly filled with the sounds of Vedic recitations. The entire region was as holy as Brahmā’s abode. The sounds of mantras from the Yajur, Ṛg and Sāma Vedas, charming and delightful to the mind, were mingled with the twang of the Pāṇḍavas’ bowstrings. They honed their martial skills by hunting dangerous forest animals. In accordance with scriptural codes, they maintained the population of tigers, boar, buffaloes and other beasts in the Kāmyaka forest, protecting the ṛṣis from attack as they engaged in meditation and sacrifice.
Yudhiṣṭhira loved the company of Brahmins. Now that he lived in their midst, his mind felt serene and his grief dissipated. All the world’s greatest ṛṣis had come to Dwaitavana to be with him--Nārada, Vyāsadeva, Vasiṣṭa, Bhṛgu, Aṅgirā, Kaśyapa and others--and they all worshipped Yudhiṣṭhira as the celestial sages worship Indra in heaven. Yudhiṣṭhira also returned their worship and spent his time discussing with them about spiritual topics. He was actually starting to enjoy forest life. In many ways he found it preferable to the onerous and often harsh duties of being a king. The gentle son of Dharma was happy to live a simple life of spirituality, but he always kept in mind his God-given duty as a kṣatriya. That responsibility could not be whimsically abandoned--even if unpleasant, duty must always be done for the Lord’s pleasure. It was thus with mixed feelings that Yudhiṣṭhira dwelt in the forest, awaiting the day when he could again resume his duties as a ruler.
Draupadī, however, was still sorrowful. She found the course of events that led up to their exile difficult, and she burned with the humiliation they had all received at Duryodhana’s hands. Sitting alone one evening with Yudhiṣṭhira, she revealed her feelings. “O King, when I think of the wicked Duryodhana and his followers living happily in Hastināpura, after having sent you to the forest, my heart burns. Without doubt he is delighting in our misfortune. When you set out for the forest all the Kurus cried except the wretched Duryodhana, Karṇa, Śakuni and that vicious Dushashana.”
Draupadī again found herself weeping. She remembered her parting words with Kuntī and Gāndhārī. Both of them had grieved at her humiliation. How long would it be before she was avenged and the wrong-doers punished?
“Seeing you seated here on this grass mat, and remembering your ivory throne crusted with jewels, I feel such anguish that I can hardly look at you. Your body is smeared with mud from the riverbank when once it was daubed with the finest sandalwood paste. You once wore costly silk garments: now you wear deerskins and tree bark. How can I bear to see my other husbands, who were once waited upon by numerous servants, now scouring the forest for food?”
Draupadī’s sorrow suddenly turned to anger. “All this is due to the evil schemes of sinful men. O King, does your plight not arouse anger in you? Why are you so peaceful? Look at Bhīma, glancing at you again and again. Constrained only by his love for you, he does not rise up and destroy the Kauravas. Honoring your promise he sits containing his anger. Look too at Arjuna. He understands Bhīma’s mind and is forever pacifying him. By the power of Arjuna’s bow thousands of kings were obliged to wait upon the Brahmins at your Rājasūya. Now that same Arjuna has become grief stricken. Does this not make you angry? And look at Mādrī’s youthful sons. They are as dear to you as they are to your mother Kuntī. Now they are forced to live the hard lives of ascetics. Does this not make you angry?
“I cannot understand why you have not risen up to destroy the Kauravas. Surely after all that has happened such a response would be in accord with morality. Is your discrimination failing? It is always appropriate for a kṣatriya to show anger when sin is committed, and sin has surely been committed by the Kauravas. How can you sit here as if you forgive them? If a king cannot distinguish between the time to be angry and the time to forgive, then he is lost.
“I also know the scripture. Scripture states that Duryodhana and his brothers deserve to be punished. Scripture states that the humble and ever-forgiving person is always neglected, while he who is powerful and assails others at the proper time is respected as a king.”
Yudhiṣṭhira looked with compassion upon his wife. She had suffered so much, and if anything stirred his heart, it was her suffering, for which he felt he had been the cause. Yes, his heart still burned when he thought of how she was dragged into the assembly hall. The pain of that moment would stay with him for the rest of his life. But this was not the time to make war. Draupadī could not understand the entire situation. He replied gently, “O intelligent lady, through anger we may sometimes gain wealth, but anger ultimately destroys mankind. Real prosperity crowns one who conquers anger and brings adversity to one whom anger controls. Anger is the root of all destruction. An angry man commits sin blindly. An angry man will kill even his preceptor and insult his elders. He cannot distinguish between right and wrong. There is nothing an angry man might not say or do, even to the point of sending himself to Death’s abode. Knowing this, I will not indulge in anger, Draupadī. Rather, I will strive to control it.”
Draupadī listened respectfully. She knew her husband’s grasp of religion and morality was unsurpassed. He was capable of instructing even the gods. Sitting on a simple mat of kusha grass, Yudhiṣṭhira continued.
“When a weak man is oppressed by one more powerful, he should not display anger--lest he bring about his own destruction. There are no blessed regions in the hereafter for those who destroy themselves. Thus the weak should always control their anger. Only fools praise anger, considering it equivalent to energy. The wise keep anger at a distance. The man consumed by anger does not easily acquire generosity, dignity, courage, skill or the other attributes possessed by men of character. The wise consider him a man of character who restrains his wrath. The pious always praise such a man because they understand that the forgiving man is always victorious. One who represses his anger even when antagonized rejoices in the next world. For this it is said that a wise man, whether strong or weak and even if in difficulty, should always forgive his persecutor.”
By now Yudhiṣṭhira’s brothers had gathered and were listening. Yudhiṣṭhira went on describing the glories of forgiveness. “If there were not persons in this world who exercised forgiveness, then chaos would soon prevail. If kings and other superiors give way to anger, then the distressed people would quickly meet with ruin. If inferiors do not tolerate their superiors’ admonishments, then sin will take root and destroy mankind. I shall cite to you the verse spoken in ancient times by the Ṛṣi Kaśyapa: ‘Forgiveness is virtue, forgiveness is sacrifice and forgiveness is the Vedas. Forgiveness is purity and penance; it is truth, piety, religion, and the holy Nārāyaṇa. Through forgiveness the universe is sustained, and by practising forgiveness a man can attain to everlasting regions of bliss.’
“How then can I renounce forgiveness, O Draupadī, in which is established spirituality, truth, wisdom and the three worlds? Both this world and the next belong to the forgiving person. Therefore forgiveness is considered the highest virtue.”
Yudhiṣṭhira smiled at his wife. “Bhīṣma, Droṇa, Vidura, Kṛpa and the other Kuru elders desire peace. Vyāsadeva and the other ṛṣis also praise peace, Pāñcālī. Therefore let us first try for a peaceful settlement. If Dhṛtarāṣṭra yields to temptation and does not return our kingdom, then the Bharata race will be destroyed. But let me not be the cause, princess. Forgiveness and humility, both of which are unknown to Duryodhana, are the qualities of the self-controlled. They constitute eternal virtue. I shall therefore adopt them.”
Draupadī was still doubtful. If virtue conferred victory and success on a man, then how could Yudhiṣṭhira have undergone such a calamity? He had never strayed from virtue at any time. Even during the gambling match he acted only with virtuous intentions. Now he was cast into misfortune, while the sinful Duryodhana enjoyed prosperity. The princess said, “It seems to me, O King, that although you always protect virtue, virtue has not protected you. Even the celestials know that you live only by virtue. I am sure you would abandon me and your brothers before abandoning virtue. You serve the Brahmins with everything you possess. You never disregarded your elders, equals or even inferiors. Although you conquered the earth, you did not become proud. You have performed great sacrifices and given unlimited charity. Even now while living a life of hardship in this forest, your virtue has suffered no diminishment.”
Draupadī looked her husband in the eyes as she made her point. “Despite all this, still your intelligence was perverted by destiny and you gambled away everything--your wealth, kingdom, brothers, even me. How could one like you, who are simple, gentle, modest, liberal and truthful, be drawn to gambling? Gambling is a vice. I just cannot understand how it is possible.”
Although Draupadī understood that everything was under the control of the Supreme Lord, she felt her faith challenged by Yudhiṣṭhira’s seemingly inexplicable situation.
“Surely, O King, all creatures are made to act by the Lord, even as a puppet is moved by its controller. No one can pass a moment independently. God ordains our happiness and distress in accord with the results of our past actions. Everyone depends upon the Lord. He brings us together and uses us as instruments to fulfill each other’s karma. It thus seems to me that it is the Lord who has brought about your calamity. But how has He sanctioned such injustice, so contrary to the ways of virtue and truth? And if He is not to blame, then it means that the controlling principle is who has the most power. If actions are not bound with God-given consequences, then I lament for those who are not powerful.”
Yudhiṣṭhira could see that his wife was bewildered by grief and sorrow. “O gentle lady born from sacrifice, although your speech is sweet and well articulated, it is atheistic. None should ever perform virtue with a desire to gain its fruits. Such a sinful trader of virtue will never reap the results. I practice virtue only because I desire to follow the Vedas and satisfy the Lord. The Vedas state that he who doubts virtue is destined to be born among the brutes. He who doubts religion, virtue, and the words of the ṛṣis is excluded from the regions of immortality and bliss. Such a person is considered lower than a thief.”
Draupadī bowed her head as her husband continued. “O thin-waisted lady, you have seen with your own eyes the results of virtue in such immortal sages as Mārkaṇḍeya, Vyāsadeva, Maitreya and the celestial sage Nārada. All these shining and ever-blissful ṛṣis describe virtue as the foremost duty. If the pieties practiced by the virtuous bore no fruits, then this world would long ago have been covered by darkness. None would have pursued liberation nor cared to acquire knowledge or even wealth. All men would have lived like beasts and the world would be thrown into confusion.”
The Brahmins, who had by now also come to hear Yudhiṣṭhira’s speech, nodded in agreement. Darkness had set in and fires now burned in the great clearing where they sat. Draupadī could hear the flames crackling as well as the sounds of crickets as Yudhiṣṭhira continued. “Do not doubt virtue because you do not see its results, Pāñcālī. Without doubt the fruits will manifest in time, as will the fruits of sin. The fruits of true virtue are eternal and indestructible, leading one to the highest regions of happiness. Therefore do not speak ill of God. Try to understand the Supreme Being and His desires. O Draupadī, always bow to Him. This will be for your own good.”
Tears fell from Draupadī’s eyes. She knew her husband’s words were true. Surely God was infallible and always the well-wishing friend of all living beings. But who could understand God? His activities were inscrutable. No one can understand His plans. The apparent reversal of the virtuous Pāṇḍavas--and even that the reversal had seemingly come through Yudhiṣṭhira’s own inexplicable actions--was incomprehensible and quite incredible.
Draupadī sighed. “I accept what you have said, O best of men. The Lord is certainly bestowing upon all beings the fruits of their own work. Even if some sudden calamity or good fortune befalls us, we must understand it to be the results of some action in a former life. But besides destiny there is exertion. A man who does not exert himself will eventually be ruined. I feel you should exert yourself now to recover your kingdom. Even if you fail you will at least have satisfied everyone that you did all that human endeavor can accomplish. Although the results are not in our hands, we should still perform our work. The wise always condemn inaction. Why then do you remain inactive? This is my doubt.”
Draupadī fell silent. Then stirred by her words Bhīma felt impelled to speak. He too was angry and found the forest almost unbearable. It was not the austerity he minded but the thought of Duryodhana and his brothers enjoying their ill-gotten gains. Why did Yudhiṣṭhira suffer in silence? Draupadī was right. It was time for them to act. Bhīma burst out, “O Yudhiṣṭhira, what do you hope to gain by living like an ascetic? You are not a yogī but a king. You should walk the path of kings. Duryodhana robbed you of your kingdom. He is like a weak, offal-eating jackal stealing the prey of lions. How do you tolerate it? How can you abandon the wealth that was both our source of virtue and pleasure, in exchange for this trifling virtue called ‘keeping your promise’? Surely you fail to see what is of true value.”
Yudhiṣṭhira remained calm while Bhīma vented his long pent-up anger. The forest reverberated with his words, his voice as deep and powerful as a kettledrum. “O King, it was only due to your carelessness that we lost our kingdom. Only to please you did we allow Duryodhana and his brothers to wrest from us our wealth and afflict us with such pain. On your command we now pain our friends and enliven our enemies. Surely it was folly that we did not kill the Kauravas then and there. Instead we have meekly come to the forest--an act worthy only of weak men. Kṛṣṇa does not approve, nor does Arjuna, the twins or myself. O King, has your despair led you to lose your manliness on the plea of virtue? Only cowards cherish despair, being unable to win back what they have lost.”
Bhīma argued that so-called virtue which produced calamity was not virtue at all. What use was virtue for its own sake? Kings should practice virtue to make their kingdoms prosperous and to achieve pleasure. All three things--virtue, profit and pleasure--should be pursued equally. None of them should be sought at the cost of the others. “Have you lost sight of your proper duty? You are a powerful warrior supported by other powerful men. Use that power to regain your rightful kingdom. When you have established your rule, then acquire religious merit by ruling piously and giving charity to the Brahmins. By giving up this promise to stay in the forest you will be casting aside an inferior principle for the greater good.”
Bhīma softened, “The Brahmins and the people want you to rule them. They all despise Duryodhana. You are capable of taking back your kingdom, and you have Arjuna and myself to help you. Who can withstand us in battle? Let us use strategy and strength to win back what is ours. This is our duty.”
Yudhiṣṭhira remained silent for some moments as he summoned patience. He looked up at Bhīma. “O descendent of Bharata, I cannot reproach you for giving me pain with your arrow-like words. It is true that due to my folly I have brought this calamity upon us. I knew I could not defeat Śakuni at dice, yet I allowed myself to be drawn into the game. I should have exerted greater control over myself. O Bhīma, the mind cannot be controlled when it comes under the influence of manliness, pride and prowess. I do not censure you for what you have said, but I do consider what has happened to us to be preordained.”
Yudhiṣṭhira made it clear that he would not break his promise. “Do you recall the conditions of the final dice game? Śakuni said, ‘He who loses this game shall go to the forest and remain there for thirteen years. The winner shall take his kingdom and return it when the forest term has expired.’ I then uttered, ‘So be it.’”
Yudhiṣṭhira hung his head and fell silent as he remembered that day. What had overcome him? He had thought he was acting only for virtue, but as a result all his loved ones had suffered. Still, he was resolute. No matter how painful their present situation, there was no turning back. He would not abandon his promise. The agreement would be kept.
Yudhiṣṭhira was firm. “How then, O Bhīma, shall I now falsify my word for the sake of wealth? To me nothing is greater than truth. For a respectable person it is better to die than to transgress his word. Let us pass our days here in peace. Better days will come. A farmer scatters seeds and awaits the harvest. In the same way, virtue and truth always bring results in time. Do not doubt this principle.”
Bhīma was not convinced. His heart was too full of anger. He had not even been able to sleep since coming to the forest. Neither could he face the prospect of waiting so many years before he could vent his rage on the Kauravas. What virtue had they ever observed? Why then should Yudhiṣṭhira treat them as honorable? Did he think they respected his virtue and adherence to truth? They saw him as weak and were laughing at him. If only Yudhiṣṭhira would see sense and order them to gear up for battle. Bhīma tried again to convince him.
“O great King, how can any mortal make a promise that is dependent on the passage of time? No one knows when his life will end. We have now been in the forest for thirteen months. Let that be our thirteen years. Indeed the Vedas state that in certain circumstances a month can substitute for a year. Let us go now and crush our enemies. Even if we were to go to hell on that day, that hell will feel like heaven. Although only Draupadī and I have revealed our hearts to you on this matter, Arjuna, the twins, Kuntī, and our many allies share the same feelings. Only because they seek to please you do they remain silent. It is only weakness that forces you to adhere to your pledge, dear brother. No one is praising you for your kindly disposition toward our enemies.”
Bhīma stood silhouetted by the fire. His huge frame resembled a blazing mountain. “O King, although remaining fixed in virtue, you still cannot see the truth, like an ignorant man who has memorized the Vedas without knowing their meaning. You are a kṣatriya, yet you act like a Brahmin. A king’s duties are fraught with crookedness and cunning. You know this well.”
Bhīma had another concern: how would they be able to live incognito for the thirteenth year? They were known throughout the world, and Duryodhana had many supporters. Numerous kings who had been subjugated by the Pāṇḍavas at the time of the Rājasūya now backed the Kauravas. Duryodhana would have his spies looking for them everywhere. Bound by Yudhiṣṭhira’s promise, they would be living in the forest forever. Force would be the only way out, sooner or later. Bhīma implored Yudhiṣṭhira, “Please give the order for battle, O hero. There is no higher duty for a kṣatriya. If there be any sin in this course, then you can counteract it later by sacrifice and charity.”
Yudhiṣṭhira sighed again, but did not speak. Bhīma was overcome by passion, he thought, and not thinking carefully. Could he not understand that their suffering had been somehow ordained by the Supreme Lord? All they could do now was follow their religious duties as prescribed by God, leaving the results in his hands. They could not please the Lord by abandoning religion, and to please God was always everyone’s prime duty. Surely Bhīma knew that.
But there was another consideration. Yudhiṣṭhira’s was a calm voice as he explained his mind to Bhīma. “O mighty-armed hero, when a man performs sinful deeds depending upon his own power, such deeds become only a source of pain for him; but if he reflects carefully before action, he will attain success. Listen as I tell you what is likely to happen if we follow your suggestion, born as it is of pride and mental unrest.”
Yudhiṣṭhira then listed the many kings allied with Duryodhana. There was Bhīṣma, Droṇa and Kṛpa--out of obligation they would certainly side with Duryodhana. Then there was Aśvatthāmā, Karṇa, Vahlika, Bhūriśravas and Duryodhana’s brothers. There were hundreds of other kings who would fight alongside the Kauravas because they had been previously defeated by the Pāṇḍavas. Duryodhana’s treasury was full, especially as he now had control of Indraprastha. He could easily and quickly amass a vast army. On the other hand, the Pāṇḍavas had no position, no wealth, no army and only a few allies.
“Duryodhana’s forces are virtually unassailable. The Kuru chiefs are masters of the celestial weapons. I doubt that even Indra and all the gods could vanquish them. I especially fear Karṇa, who is impetuous, angry, invincible, accomplished in every weapon and encased in impenetrable armor.”
Yudhiṣṭhira remembered how Karṇa had been born with a natural coat of armor on his body. Although he appeared to be a charioteer’s son, it was obvious that his origin was in some way divine. For some reason he harbored a deep envy of Arjuna. One day, Yudhiṣṭhira knew, Karṇa and Arjuna would wage a great battle to settle their enmity. The skirmish at Draupadī’s svayaṁvara had been nothing. Karṇa had not wanted to exert himself against what he thought was a Brahmin, but if he displayed his full power, then who could be sure that Arjuna would be able to defeat him.
“Thinking of Karṇa and the danger he poses, I cannot sleep at night. Without overcoming him, as well as all the other heroes I have mentioned, we will not be able to defeat Duryodhana. O best of men, consider all this carefully.”
Hearing his brother’s admonition, Bhīma became pensive. Yudhiṣṭhira was right, of course, and he could not argue with him. Although Bhīṣma, Droṇa, Kṛpa and the other kings in Hastināpura had always been their friends and well-wishers, it was different now. If it came to war they would surely side with the Kauravas. The thought of fighting against those invincible heroes was daunting, especially because he felt so much affection for them. Bhīma sat down, defeated.
As the Pāṇḍavas sat together in silence, Vyāsadeva appeared out of the forest. They quickly stood up and bowed before the ṛṣi. After taking a seat among them, the ṛṣi said to Yudhiṣṭhira, “O mighty-armed one, I have divined your thoughts. I wish to help you, and therefore I have come. I will destroy the fever in your mind by telling you how to defeat Bhīṣma, Droṇa, Kṛpa, Karṇa, Duryodhana, and all his followers. Listen carefully.”
Vyāsadeva then took Yudhiṣṭhira aside and spoke to him in private. He taught him the mystical skill called Pratismriti, then instructed him to teach the same skill to Arjuna. This skill allowed the practitioner to travel great distances in a short time. Thus Arjuna could go to the Himālayas, approach the gods, and receive from them their special weapons.
“Due to his asceticism and prowess, he is quite capable of approaching the celestials,” Vyāsadeva said. “Indeed, he is Nārāyaṇa’s eternal associate. Indra, Rudra and all the principal gods will surely bestow their weapons upon Arjuna, and he will perform tremendous deeds by receiving them.”
After giving Yudhiṣṭhira the Pratismriti mantras, Vyāsadeva left. Just before leaving, he also told Yudhiṣṭhira to move to a different forest. Otherwise the brothers might disturb the animal population in the Dwaitavana by hunting them excessively. Having lived there more than a year, they had killed many deer, tigers, boar and other wild animals. Accompanied by the Brahmins whom they were supporting, Yudhiṣṭhira and his brothers moved to another part of the great Kāmyaka forest, this time on the banks of the river Sarasvatī.
Arjuna Goes to Heaven
When the Brahmins determined an auspicious day, Yudhiṣṭhira taught Arjuna the Pratismriti mantras. The king had delayed teaching him as he knew that Arjuna would leave for the Himālayas as soon as he had the knowledge. It would be difficult to live without him. But it was Vyāsadeva’s desire that he go, so Yudhiṣṭhira knew the separation could not be avoided forever. Ultimately, it was probably their only chance to be successful in recovering their kingdom.
Taking Arjuna aside, Yudhiṣṭhira held him by the hands and said, “O descendent of Bharata, the four divisions of the science of arms are held by Bhīṣma, Droṇa, Kṛpa, Karṇa and Aśvatthāmā. They have all received divine instructions and know how to use every sort of weapon. Having been honored, gratified and supported by Duryodhana, they always seek to do him good. We should not doubt that they will support him in battle. The whole world is now under Duryodhana’s sway, and he is our avowed enemy. You are our sole refuge. Depending on you we shall regain our kingdom from Duryodhana. Listen now as I tell you what should be done.”
Yudhiṣṭhira then informed Arjuna of Vyāsadeva’s instructions. He told him that he should leave as soon as possible for the Himālayas and, by meditating on the mantras he was now going to repeat, he should seek the gods’ audience in order to receive their weapons. “Allow me to initiate you today, O virtuous one, and go at once to propitiate Indra. Being pleased with you I am sure Indra will give you his weapons and, by his order, so will the other gods.”
Arjuna fully controlled his mind and senses. Then, with due rites, Yudhiṣṭhira bestowed the Pratismriti mantras on him. When he was finished Yudhiṣṭhira stood up, with tears pricking his eyes as he thought of Arjuna’s separation. “Now go, dear brother.”
With his arms and hands clad in iguana skin gauntlets and gloves, and his body covered in golden mail, Arjuna took up his Gāṇḍīva bow and his two inexhaustible quivers and stood ready to depart. Brahmins and Siddhas uttered blessings upon him and, not knowing how long he would be gone, he bade an affectionate farewell to his brothers.
As Arjuna was about to depart, Draupadī came before him and said, “O mighty-armed Dhanañjaya, may all that the noble Kuntī desired at your birth, and all that you yourself desire, be accomplished. May none of us ever take birth again in this terrible kṣatriya order. I offer my respects to the ascetic Brahmins, who are detached from this miserable world. My heart still burns with Duryodhana’s insult, but today I grieve even more because you are departing. In your absence we will spend our time thinking only of you. There will be no joy without you. All our hopes rest in you, O hero. May the Lord and all His energies protect you at all times, and may success be yours. Go now and attain your goal.”
Arjuna smiled at Draupadī, circumambulated his brothers and Dhaumya, and then began running swiftly along the path, frightening creatures along the way with his speed. By chanting the mantras Yudhiṣṭhira had given him, he felt himself travelling over mountains and forests at the speed of mind. By the end of the first day he arrived at the great Mandara mountain. Arjuna stopped and looked around. The mountain was beautiful with its bluish stone rising up into the clouds. It was covered with blossoming trees, their many-colored flowers creating rich tableaus and their scent captivating his mind. The sound of peacocks, cranes and cuckoos filled the air, and he could see Siddhas and Cāraṇas sporting on the mountain slopes. Arjuna decided to climb the mountain and begin his austerities there.
Upon reaching a plateau high on the mountain, he suddenly heard a voice resounding in the sky. “Stop!” Arjuna looked around and saw an ascetic sitting at the foot of a tree. The tawny-colored Brahmin had a brilliant aura. His lean body was covered in deerskin and his matted locks hung down to his shoulders. The ascetic said, “O child, who are you? You appear to be a kṣatriya. Do you not know that this is the abode of peaceful Brahmins who are free from anger? Even to have been able to reach this spot indicates that you already attained a high state of purity. Now perfect your life. You have no need of weapons here. Throw them away.”
Arjuna made it clear that he had no plans to renounce his weapons. “I need my weapons to serve my elder brother Yudhiṣṭhira, who has been wrongfully deprived of his kingdom. O Brahmin, I will not cast them aside.”
Seeing Arjuna’s dedication to duty, the ascetic replied, “O slayer of foes, I am pleased with you. Know me to be Śakra, king of the gods. Ask me for a boon.”
Arjuna was overjoyed. Here was Indra! With folded hands he said, “O exalted one, the boon I desire is that you bestow all your weapons upon me.”
Indra smiled. “O Dhanañjaya, I can grant you life in the celestial regions of bliss. Ask for this. Why do you desire only my weapons?”
“How could I incur the world’s condemnation by not avenging myself on the enemy and by abandoning my brothers in the forest?” Arjuna’s anger rose as he remembered Duryodhana’s treachery.
Indra spoke gently. “O child, when you meet Śiva, I will give you all my weapons. Try to propitiate him, for he is the greatest of the gods. By seeing the three-eyed wielder of the trident, all your desires will be fulfilled.”
After saying this Indra disappeared, and Arjuna was left alone. He decided to remain where he was and begin his austerities and worship of Śiva. He took off his armor and set his weapons down by the same tree where Indra had sat. The tree was situated next to a flowing river, and Arjuna bathed in its clear waters, then sat down to meditate. As he did so, conchshells were heard in the sky and showers of flowers fell from the heavens. Arjuna was pleased by the auspicious sign, and he sat with half-closed eyes, controlled his breathing, and began to intone prayers to Śiva.
During the first month of his meditations, Arjuna ate only fruit on every third day. During the second month, he ate fruit only on every sixth day, and during the third month he ate fruit once a fortnight. During the fourth month he lived only on air, standing on the tips of his toes with his arms upraised. He bathed three times a day and kept his mind and senses under perfect control. As a result of his austerities, Arjuna began to glow like the sun.
In the heavens the celestial ṛṣis grew anxious. They approached Śiva and said, “Arjuna has become greatly effulgent due to his austerities on the breast of the Himālayas. The earth is becoming heated by his asceticism and is sending forth smoke. O chief of the gods, you should stop him before he upsets the universal order by the power of his penance.”
Śiva replied, “You need not feel anxiety on account of Phālgunī. He does not wish to attain heaven or prosperity. I know his purpose and will satisfy him today.”
The ṛṣis bowed before Śiva and returned to their own abodes. Śiva then assumed the form of a tall, powerful, golden-hued hunter, and descended to the place where Arjuna was meditating. Umā, his consort, accompanied him in a similar costume, and many of his goblin followers, who assumed various forms and wore bright garments, followed them. Many of the female goblins assumed the forms of beautiful women and also descended. As Śiva appeared on the mountainside with his followers, the mountain seemed ablaze with beauty. Strangely, however, all nature became silent. Even the springs and waterfalls ceased their sounds.
As Śiva arrived, he saw a Dānava assume the form of a boar and charge at Arjuna. The demon intended to kill Arjuna, and he roared loudly in challenge. Arjuna heard the boar’s roar and quickly lifted and strung his bow. Placing a virulent arrow on his bowstring, Arjuna called out, “I have done you no harm. As you seek to kill me, I shall certainly send you to Yamarāja’s abode.”
At the same moment Śiva also trained his arrow on the boar and shouted to Arjuna, “Stop! This dark-colored boar is mine. I saw him first and have already aimed my arrow at him.”
Arjuna ignored Śiva’s claim and released his arrow, which sped toward the massive boar. Śiva simultaneously released his arrow and the two shafts both struck the Dānava at the same time. There was a sound like thunder as the arrows hit the demonic boar’s rock-like body. Assuming his natural form, the demon gave up his life with a terrible cry.
Arjuna looked around at the hunter. His body shone like a golden mountain. He was surrounded by hundreds of women. Arjuna glared at him. “Who are you, dressed like a hunter and wandering in this solitary forest surrounded by your followers? Are you not afraid? Why have you pierced this boar which I targeted first? Do you not know that this is against all accepted practices in hunting. Indeed you have insulted me and so I will punish you by taking your life.”
The hunter replied with a smile, “O hero, you need not be concerned about me. I always dwell in the forest. But what brings you here? You are obviously royalty, used to living in luxury. How is it that you have adopted an ascetic life?”
Arjuna held his bow tightly. “Depending on the strength of my arms, I live in this forest. See how I killed this fearful Rākṣasa who was intent on killing me.”
The hunter laughed derisively. “It was I who killed this one, not you. I saw him first, and it was by my arrow that he was sent to Death’s abode. You are overly proud of your strength. Do not accuse others when you yourself are at fault. O wicked-minded wretch, you have wronged me and will therefore not escape with your life. Stand and receive my arrows. Try to defend yourself, if you can.”
Infuriated, Arjuna immediately struck the hunter with a cluster of swift arrows, but he simply smiled and received Arjuna’s shafts without flinching. He called out, “O wretch! Send your fiercest arrows, those that are capable of piercing to the heart.”
Arjuna released another volley of shafts. Becoming angry, Śiva sent back hundreds of his own arrows. A great battle then ensued. Showers of snake-like arrows sped back and forth. As Arjuna countered the hunter’s arrows, he was surprised to see that, although struck by countless shafts, his adversary was not affected. The Pāṇḍava increased the force of his attack, but the hunter stood unmoved. Seeing that he could not shake his foe, Arjuna called out in admiration, “Excellent! Well done!”
Arjuna looked with wonder at the hunter. Clearly this was not an ordinary man. No one could withstand the force of thousands of arrows shot from the Gāṇḍīva without being moved. Perhaps he was a celestial. Arjuna decided to use his mystical weapons. No matter who this was--even if he was a Gandharva or a Yakṣa--unless he was actually Śiva himself, Arjuna intended to kill him.
Arjuna then invoked weapons which fired thousands of arrows blazing like the sun. Śiva cheerfully received all his shafts as a mountain receives a downpour of rain. Then to Arjuna’s amazement he found that his celestial quivers were suddenly exhausted. How was that possible? Who was this who swallowed up all his arrows? With what could he fight now? Arjuna raised his great bow like a club and rushed at the hunter. He struck him a number of heavy blows, but Śiva snatched away his bow and drew it into his body. It simply vanished. Arjuna then drew his sword and brought it down upon the hunter’s head with all his strength, but it shattered to pieces.
Arjuna was afraid, but he continued to fight. This time he lifted rocks and boulders and threw them at the hunter. He tore up trees and slung them at the hunter. Still he made no impression. Arjuna’s mouth smoked with wrath. He rushed at his foe and pummeled him with his fists. Śiva struck him back and a hand-to-hand fight ensued. They struck one another and grappled furiously, each seizing the other and shoving him with full force. Sparks and smoke flew from their bodies.
Finally, the hunter released Arjuna and he fell back, dazed, almost unconscious. Arjuna looked at the hunter in astonishment. He had failed to make the least impression on him. Surely this must be the exalted god Śiva. No one else could have fought with such power.
Arjuna retreated to a distance and quickly fashioned an image of Śiva from the earth. He worshipped it with flowers and as he did so, he saw flowers falling onto the hunter’s head. Now he had no doubt. This was the deity he was seeking. Arjuna fell headlong at the god’s feet, and as he did so he felt all his fatigue dispelled.
Śiva was pleased with Arjuna and he spoke to him in a voice as powerful as roaring clouds. “O Phālgunī, today you have satisfied me. There is no warrior equal to you in courage or patience. O best of the Bharata race, your strength is practically equal to mine. You were formerly a ṛṣi and have now taken birth to serve the Supreme Lord’s purposes. Soon you will acquire the weapons with which to defeat your enemies, even if they be celestials. I shall bestow upon you my own irresistible weapon. Now I will give you the eyes to see me in my original form. Behold!”
Arjuna looked up and saw Śiva with his three eyes, holding a trident, a divine serpent draped around his bluish neck. Arjuna bowed down and prayed, “O great god, O highly exalted one, you are the refuge of all the celestials. The very universe has sprung from you. You are Viṣṇu in a different form and are unconquerable by gods, demons or men. O Śaṅkara, pray forgive me. It was only to receive your audience that I came to this mountain. Please pardon me for my rashness in fighting with you. I seek your protection.”
Śiva lifted Arjuna to his feet and embraced the Pāṇḍava. “I have pardoned you. You are Nara, the friend of Nārāyaṇa. Previously you two chastised the demon hordes at Indra’s coronation. Kṛṣṇa is that Supreme Nārāyaṇa, and with Him you will again punish the wicked. O Pārtha, take back your Gāṇḍīva bow. Your quivers will again become inexhaustible. There is no man on earth equal to you. Ask from me whatever you desire.”
Śiva handed the Gāṇḍīva bow to Arjuna and Arjuna said, “O lord, if you are pleased with me, then I humbly ask that you bestow upon me your irresistible personal weapon known as the Pāśupāta. You destroy the universe with this weapon at the end of creation, and with it I may be victorious over Rākṣasas, Dānavas, Gandharvas, Nāgas, ghosts and spirits. It will enable me to emerge successfully from the battle I shall fight against Bhīṣma, Droṇa, Kṛpa, and the son of the suta, Karṇa.”
Śiva replied, “O son of Kuntī, I will give you this weapon. You are capable of holding, throwing, and withdrawing it. Not even Indra, Yama, Kuvera, or Varuṇa knows the mantras to this weapon--what to speak of any man. However, you must use it only against celestial fighters. The Pāśupāta should never be released at lesser enemies or else it may destroy the creation. This weapon is discharged by the mind, eyes, words, or a bow. No one in the three worlds of moving or nonmoving creatures can withstand its force.”
Arjuna then bathed for purification and stood before Śiva to receive the mantras. The god gave his weapon to Arjuna and it then waited upon him just as it waited upon Śiva himself. When the celestials saw the fearful weapon standing in its embodied form by Arjuna’s side, the earth trembled and terrible winds blew in all directions. Thousands of conches and trumpets were heard resounding in the sky. Śiva said, “Now go to heaven and receive Indra’ weapons.” He then departed with Umā and his many followers.
When Śiva was gone, Arjuna stood for a few moments gazing at the sky, awed by what had just transpired. He had seen the god of gods. The unknowable deity had touched him with his own hand. Arjuna now considered his enemies already vanquished and his ends accomplished. He possessed Śiva’s irresistible weapon. Although he could not discharge the Pāśupāta at human foes, its very possession made him feel invincible.
While Arjuna stood absorbed in thought, Varuṇa appeared before him accompanied by the rivers personified and many Nāgas, Siddhas and other lesser gods. Kuvera was also in attendance, his body resembling pure gold and seated upon a splendid chariot. Kuvera was accompanied by countless Yakṣas. They stood before Arjuna, illuminating everything with their bodily effulgence. Arjuna also saw in the sky the god of justice, Yamarāja, approaching on his chariot with mace in hand and flanked by the personified forms of Death and Time.
On a nearby mountain summit, Arjuna saw Indra and his queen Śacī seated on the back of the celestial elephant Airāvata and appearing like the rising sun. A white umbrella was being held over his head and he was surrounded by Gandharvas and ṛṣis, who were eulogizing him with Vedic hymns.
Arjuna chanted numerous prayers in praise of the gods and offered them fruits and water. As he stood gazing in amazement, Yamarāja spoke, his voice as deep as autumnal rain clouds. “Behold, O Arjuna, that all the world’s protectors, the Lokapālas, have come here. We shall bestow upon you divine eyes. O sinless one, you were formerly the Ṛṣi Nara. At Brahmā’s behest, you have taken your birth as a mortal. You shall vanquish in battle the powerful Bhīṣma and the many other fierce warriors headed by Droṇa. The enemies of the gods, Daityas and Dānavas, have taken their birth in the world of men. These shall all be slain in a great battle in which you will play the main role. Your fame on earth shall be eternal.”
Yamarāja offered his personal weapon, a celestial mace, to Arjuna. The Pāṇḍava received the weapon along with the mantras for hurling and withdrawing it. After that, Varuṇa gave Arjuna his inescapable Nāgapasha nooses. Arjuna also received Kuvera’s weapon, the antardhāna, which could baffle and render unconscious even mighty Asuras. Then Indra spoke: “O subduer of enemies, you shall perform a great work for the gods. Now you must ascend to heaven. There I will give you my own weapon and other irresistible astras belonging to the celestials. My chariot, driven by my servant Mātali, will soon carry you there.”
The Lokapālas then vanished, leaving Arjuna alone. As he looked up, he saw what appeared to be a second sun gradually increasing in brilliance in the sky. The whole region vibrated as the radiance increased. Arjuna realized that this was Indra’s chariot descending to earth. The chariot was huge, and it was drawn by ten thousand celestial horses of greenish and golden hue. Mātali, in golden armor, was holding the reins. As the chariot approached, Arjuna could see upon it innumerable swords and maces, as well as all kinds of missiles. Axes, darts, lances, and spears of every kind were placed all around the chariot. Celestial thunderbolts and brilliant lightning bolts glowed from its sides. Huge-bodied, fierce Nāgas with fiery mouths were seated on the chariot, along with great silver canons furnished with wheels and capable of sending celestial missiles a vast distance.
Arjuna saw Indra’s dark blue flagstaff, the Vaijayanta, standing in the middle of the chariot as straight as a bamboo and as tall as a great palm tree. Then the chariot halted and Mātali stood before Arjuna. Bowing low, he said, “O fortunate one, I have been instructed to take you to Śakra. Your father, encircled by the celestials, ṛṣis, Gandharvas and Apsarās, wishes to see you in heaven. Śiva has also ordered me. Ascend this chariot and come to the heavenly regions.”
Arjuna again bathed for purification, then offered prayers to Mount Mandara: “O king of mountains, you are the refuge of pious sages seeking heaven. You have sheltered me and I have lived here happily. I offer you my thanks and bid you farewell.” With that, Mātali led Arjuna to a flight of crystal steps leading up to the chariot.
Mātali urged the steeds which drew the chariot with the speed of the mind high into the sky. As they entered the celestial regions, Arjuna saw thousands of wondrous chariots carrying shining beings of great beauty. He saw kings and warriors who had been slain in battle and had attained effulgent celestial forms. As they moved along the paths of the gods, Arjuna saw Siddhas, Cāraṇas, ṛṣis, Guhyakas and Apsarās. The region glowed with a brilliance born of the ascetic merits of such beings. Amazed, Arjuna inquired into their identities. The charioteer replied, “These are pious persons, O son of Kuntī, stationed in their respective spheres. You have seen their shining abodes from the earth as stars in the firmament.”
The chariot passed through the gate of Indra’s planet, where Arjuna saw Airāvata, the great white elephant with four tusks. The elephant resembled Mount Kailāsa with its four summits. Passing through divine regions meant for pious men who had performed great sacrifices and asceticism, they arrived at last in Amarāvatī, Indra’s capital city.
Arjuna gazed with wide open eyes at the astonishing city. Flowers from all the seasons bloomed simultaneously, and there were groves of sacred trees. Fragrant breezes moved among their golden leaves, creating cascades of brilliant light. Countless mansions and palaces stretched into the distance. Arjuna saw the famous Nandana gardens, in which the gods sported with Apsarās.
“Those who turn their backs in battle can never see this place,” Mātali said, seeing Arjuna’s amazement. “Neither can those who are wicked-minded, who have not performed sacrifice, who have not abstained from liquor and meat, who have not bathed in holy rivers nor given charity to Brahmins ever reach this abode.”
As they proceeded through the city, Arjuna beheld celestial cars traveling by the occupants’ wills. Gandharvas and Apsarās eulogized Arjuna as he passed. He heard the sound of celestial music and of thousands of conchshells and drums. Arjuna entered Indra’s magnificent assembly hall and met with the Sādhyas, Maruts, Viśvadevas, and twin Aśvinīs. He saw the Adityas, Vasus, Rudras, and the many royal saints headed by King Dilīpa. Nārada Ṛṣi was also present along with the Gandharva leader, Tumbaru.
After offering his respects to the assembled personalities, Arjuna approached his father, the king of the gods. Indra was seated beneath his white umbrella and was being fanned by golden-handled and perfumed cāmaras. Many pure Brahmins praised him with hymns from the Ṛg and Yajur Vedas, and the Gandharvas and Cāraṇas played celestial instruments of all descriptions for his pleasure.
Arjuna prostrated himself before Indra, who got down from his throne and embraced him. The thousand-eyed god took Arjuna by the hand and led him back up the flight of golden steps to his bejeweled throne. Indra then had his son sit next to him on the throne, where he shone like a second Indra. With his perfumed hand, Indra affectionately stroked Arjuna’s head. Out of love, Indra gently patted and rubbed his arms, which were like gold columns. The deity gazed without satiation at his son’s face. Seated together on the throne, Arjuna and Indra appeared like the sun and the moon together in a clear sky.
Indra gave Arjuna the celestial sight to perceive Amarāvatī’s divine beauty. The city was unimaginably opulent. The Pāṇḍava looked around at the numerous effulgent ṛṣis who sat reciting sacred texts from the Vedas. Groups of Gandharvas headed by Tumbaru sang hymns in voices which entirely captivated the mind. As they sang, Apsarās performed exquisite dances full of gestures and sidelong glances. They shook their breasts and moved their broad hips.
The celestials offered Arjuna the sacred arghya and washed his feet. At Indra’s command, Arjuna was then escorted to Indra’s palace. Arjuna took up residence there and Indra instructed him in how to use the celestial weapons, and especially the irresistible thunderbolt weapon, Vajra, and Indra’s powerful lightning flashes.
Although living amid splendor and opulence, Arjuna could not forget his brothers in the forest, and he longed to return to them. Whenever he thought of his brothers, he also remembered the circumstances that had brought them to the forest, and he remembered Śakuni, Dushashana, Duryodhana and Karṇa. Arjuna had no peace. As he was equipped with one powerful weapon after another, he thought only of the inevitable battle that would take place in the future. No one would be able to stand against him now. Those wicked-minded men would be punished. Draupadī would be avenged and Yudhiṣṭhira’s kingdom would be recovered.
When Arjuna had become adept at using all the weapons, Indra told him, “You should go to your friend Citrasena and learn singing and dancing from him. He can teach you such music that does not exist in the world of men and is known only to the celestials. This knowledge will prove useful to you in the future.”
Arjuna thus learned the Gandharva skills. The Pāṇḍava did not know why Indra had requested him to study such subjects, but he was sure the god could see by divine intelligence that such knowledge would surely be helpful in the future.
* * *
Arjuna lived in Amarāvatī for five years, thinking always of his brothers. As the time for him to leave approached, Indra summoned Citrasena and spoke with him in private. “O chief of the Gandharvas, I have seen Arjuna casting glances at Urvaśī. Go to her and have her wait upon the Pāṇḍava with all her feminine graces and skills. As you have taught him all the arts of music, so now you should teach him the art of associating with women.”
Citrasena said, “So be it,” and went at once to Urvaśī and described Arjuna’s many virtues.
“O lady of fair hips, know that I have come here on Indra’s command to ask from you a favor. There is one now living in heaven who is renowned among men for his grace, behavior, beauty, vows and self-control. He is famous for his might and his prowess, and he is respected by the pious. He is also endowed with presence of mind, is a genius, and possesses great energy. That mighty hero is forgiving and without malice. He knows all the Vedas with their many branches, is devoted to his elders, is never boastful, sees even small things as if they were important, and is always the shelter of his dependents. His name is Arjuna, and his father Indra brought him to heaven. O blessed lady, Arjuna seems inclined toward you. Please go to him and allow him to obtain you.”
Urvaśī cheerfully replied, “Having heard of Arjuna’s virtues, how could I fail to be attracted? Indeed, thinking of that hero I am already stricken by the god of love. O Citrasena, go now wherever you like and I shall go to him.”
Having succeeded in his mission, the Gandharva left. Urvaśī then prepared to meet Arjuna. She bathed and smeared her body with perfumed unguents. Dressing with layers of diaphanous silks, she adorned herself with jewels and gold ornaments, as well as fragrant garlands of brightly colored flowers. She was absorbed in thoughts of Arjuna and her heart was pierced with Cupid’s arrows. Inflamed by desire, she imagined herself lying with Arjuna on a soft, wide bed laid over with silk sheets.
Setting out at a time when the moon began to rise, the thin-waisted Urvaśī went toward Arjuna’s abode. As she walked, her long black braids, which she had decorated with bunches of flowers, swung around her beautiful white face. Her two finely tapering breasts, adorned with a string of diamonds and pearls and smeared with fragrant sandalwood paste, trembled as she walked gracefully through the gardens. Her high, round hips, covered with thin cloth and decked with golden chains, moved from side to side. The rows of golden bells around her ankles tinkled gently. She defied the splendor of the full moon and was quite capable of breaking the vows of great ascetics. Exhilarated by the little liquor she had drunk and full of desire, she cast glances from side to side and seemed even more alluring. Seeing her pass, the Siddhas and Cāraṇas considered her the finest sight in heaven. She soon arrived at Arjuna’s door and sent word to him through the doorkeeper.
Arjuna immediately invited her into his house. He was anxious that the goddess had come to see him at night. Seeing her incomparable beauty he closed his eyes out of modesty. Arjuna worshipped her as if she were his superior and said, “O foremost of Apsarās, I bow down to you. What is your command? I am your servant.”
Hearing his words, Urvaśī was overjoyed. Her voice rang out like tinkling bells. “O best of men, I will tell you what brings me here. When you first came to heaven, a large assembly was convened during which we celebrated your arrival. All the gods and celestials were present, and you were seated by Śakra’s side. You saw me then, dancing in the midst of the chief Apsarās. Your gaze rested upon me for some moments and Indra noticed your attentions. Thus he has sent me here through Citrasena. I have come to wait upon you, O hero. My heart is stolen by your virtues and I am under the control of Kāmadeva. This is my wish: let me possess you tonight.”
Arjuna at once covered his ears in shame. “O blessed lady, O most charming one, it is not proper for me to hear you speak such words. You are the wife of my superior. As the illustrious Kuntī or the beautiful Śacī, Indra’s consort, is to me, so too are you, O goddess. Do not doubt what I say. O lady of sweet smiles, I did indeed gaze upon you, but not out of desire. There was quite another reason.”
Arjuna had heard of Urvaśī while at home on the earth. Thousands of years previously she had become Pūrurava’s wife, who was one of Arjuna’s ancestors. It was her son who had been the forefather of Arjuna’s dynasty. Arjuna told Urvaśī that he thus felt quite unable to make her his lover. “O blessed one, when I gazed at you I was simply amazed to see the mother of my dynasty. You should not entertain any other feeling for me than that of your son.”
Urvaśī smiled. “O son of Indra, we of the heavenly realms are not fettered by human morality. You need not see me as a superior. I have sported with other sons and grandsons of the Pūru dynasty without incurring sin. Be favorable toward me. I am burning with desire and feel devoted to you. Do not reject me, for that is not the practice of virtuous men.”
But Arjuna could not change his attitude. “O beautiful lady, hear what I tell you and let the four directions and all the celestials also hear. You are no different to me than Kuntī, Mādrī or Śacī. I bow my head to you as my mother. Please protect me as your son.”
After Arjuna had spoken in this way, it was clear to Urvaśī that he was firm in his determination. Rejected and insulted, she became angry. With knitted brows and quivering lips, she exclaimed, “As you insult a woman who has come to you at your father’s command and out of her own desire--a woman pierced by Cupid’s arrow--you shall lose your manhood and live as a dancer in the company of women. O Arjuna, you shall become a eunuch and lose all respect.”
With that, Urvaśī turned and left Arjuna.
Arjuna thought carefully. Surely Indra must have known that this would happen. Why then had he asked Citrasena to send Urvaśī to him? Arjuna went at once to Citrasena and told him what had transpired, repeatedly mentioning the curse. Citrasena then went to Indra and informed him of the situation. Indra called for Arjuna and spoke to him in private.
“O best of men, because you are her son, Kuntī is the most glorious mother. You have defeated even the ṛṣis by your self-control and patience. Do not worry. Urvaśī’s curse will be for your good and will prove useful. You will need to pass your final year of exile incognito. At that time, Urvaśī’s curse will take effect and, living as a eunuch, no one shall discover you. Having passed one year without your manhood, you shall regain it at the end of that period.”
Arjuna was relieved. The Pāṇḍava then stopped worrying about the curse and continued to live happily in the h
(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. )
eavens with his father and Citrasena.
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