The Mahabharata
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)
1.36: Draupadī Again Insulted
After twelve long years in the forest, waiting for the day they could reclaim their kingdom, the final year of busy city life passed quickly for the Pāṇḍavas. Yudhiṣṭhira diced with Virata and, thanks to the skills he had acquired from Vṛṣaparvā, won much wealth from the king. He secretly distributed his winnings to his brothers. Bhīma ensured that his brothers had the best of food and drink. From the ladies in the palace Arjuna obtained many items of clothing, which he gave to his brothers, and the twins also shared with their brothers the wealth they earned from the king. It seemed to the Pāṇḍavas that they were back in their mother’s house, they lived so happily. They also kept vigilant eyes on Draupadī and were always alert to danger from Duryodhana’s men.
In the fourth month of their stay in Virata, there was a festival held in honor of Śiva. Among the festivities was a wrestling contest. Many powerful fighters from all over Bharata assembled in the city, roaring like lions. Those colossal-bodied men were maddened with power and strength. They strode about the wrestling arena slapping their arms and chests. Virata honored them and organized a tournament between them. One wrestler, Jīmūta, was the most powerful and he emerged victorious from the contest. As he stood shouting out a furious challenge, none dared come forward to fight him. Virata then summoned his cook, Vallabha, and ordered him to fight.
Bhīma could not defy the king’s order. Reluctantly, he prepared for the match. Although he enjoyed fighting, he was afraid someone would recognize him if he displayed too much power. Praying to Kṛṣṇa that he not be recognized, he went before the roaring Jīmūta. The two wrestlers appeared like infuriated elephants about to fight for leadership of the herd. A fierce fight ensued with the combatants locked together, each looking for the other’s weak points. Their blows sounded like thunderbolts striking mountains. The crowds gasped and cheered in turn. Each fighter dashed the other to the ground, threw him, pressed him down by force, and whirled the other around. They slapped and kicked one another with tremendous power. Knees struck against knees and heads against heads, sounding like two stones crashing together. As they fought they shouted insults at each other. The crowd was delighted, some supporting Bhīma and others Jīmūta. Finally Bhīma, decided to end the bout. He suddenly lifted his rival over his head and whirled him about. He spun him a hundred times with such force that he fell unconscious. Then Bhīma dashed him to the ground.
Seeing the senseless Jīmūta lying on the ground, Virata was overjoyed. He immediately gave Bhīma valuable gifts and asked if there were any others who dared challenge him. When no one came forward, Virata ordered that he fight with lions, tigers and elephants. Bhīma overpowered many animals in the midst of the astonished crowd, but none had any idea of his actual identity.
The king was pleased with all the Pāṇḍavas. By his celestial skills in the arts, Arjuna delighted Virata and the palace ladies. Nakula showed him many well-trained and swift horses, and the king was also pleased with Sahadeva’s handling of his cows and bulls. But Draupadī, seeing her husbands engaged in such menial service, felt pained at heart.
The Pañchāla princess waited upon Sudeṣṇa in misery, but she conducted herself in such a way that the queen was satisfied by her service and gave no thought as to who she might actually be. Eleven months passed.
One day, as Draupadī was moving about the palace, the commander of Virata’s army, Kichaka, happened to see her. The mighty Kichaka was immediately struck by Cupid’s arrows when he saw Draupadī’s enchanting beauty. She seemed like a goddess descended to earth. His heart was inflamed by desire. He went to his sister Sudeṣṇa and said, “I have never seen this maidservant before. Who is she? Her beauty maddens me as wine does with its aroma. Indeed, this bewitching damsel has ground my heart and brought me under subjection. I am fevered with desire, and only she has the cure. Tell me, sister, how she has come to be your servant. It seems that she is too good for such a position. Let her grace my palace and enjoy every opulence with me.”
As he spoke, Draupadī entered the queen’s chamber. Without waiting for Sudeṣṇa’s answer, Kichaka turned to Draupadī and said, “Who are you and who do you belong to? O fair-faced maiden, simply by seeing you I have lost my mind. I have never seen such grace and beauty in a woman. Are you Goddess Lakṣmī herself, or perhaps Śrī, Hrī, Kīrti or Kānti? You must be a celestial because you shine like the full moon. What man would not yield to Cupid’s influence when he beheld your face shining with such heavenly beauty? Your well-shaped breasts, resembling lotus buds, and your shapely form have afflicted me with the blazing fire of lust. O fair one, pray extinguish this fire with the rain cloud of union. Your maddening gestures and movements have pierced my heart. It behooves you to save me from my plight by surrendering yourself to me and allowing me to enjoy your company. You shall have whatever you desire and your time as a servant will end.”
Kichaka spoke at length in his attempt to woo Draupadī, but she was only filled with horror. Lowering her face and covering her head she replied, “I am a Sairindhrī of low caste, holding the hateful position of dressing hair. O hero, in desiring me you wish for one who is not worthy of such an honor. Furthermore, I am already the wife of others and thus your conduct is unbecoming. Do not turn your mind to adultery, for it leads inevitably to disgrace and calamity. To fully abandon sin is ever the duty of the good.”
Kichaka, whose senses were completely overpowered by lust, simply smiled. Without caring for the consequences he addressed Draupadī in sweet tones. “O timid one, it is not fair of you to reject me. I am enslaved by Cupid on your account. If you do not accept my proposal, then you will have to regret your decision. I am the lord of this realm; the people depend upon me for their safety. In heroism I have no rival on earth. My power and prosperity are without compare. Why do you turn me down in favor of a life of servitude? I shall bestow the kingdom upon you. Live with me in happiness and enjoy whatever you desire.”
Draupadī was disgusted by Kichaka’s shamelessness and she became angry. “O son of a suta, do not needlessly throw away your life. I am always protected by five heroes. You cannot win me because I am already married to five Gandharvas of terrible prowess. They will not tolerate this insult and will doubtlessly slay you if you persist in your attempts to win me. You will have no refuge, even if you descend to the subterranean world or soar to the heavens. My husbands always crush their enemies. Why, O Kichaka, do you desire me like a child on his mother’s lap who desires the moon? Look to your safety and leave me alone.”
Draupadī turned and quickly walked from the queen’s chamber. Kichaka was shocked and dismayed by Draupadī’s stern refusal. He said to Sudeṣṇa, “O princess, do whatever is necessary to make this maiden inclined toward me. If she does not accept me, I shall kill myself.”
Sudeṣṇa pitied her brother in his disappointment. She said, “I will find a suitable opportunity and send Sairindhrī to you to fetch something. In the solitude of your quarters, you will be able to solicit her at leisure. She will then most likely become attached to you.” Kichaka agreed to his sister’s suggestion and returned to his palace.
A few days later the queen called for Draupadī and said, “O Sairindhrī, today is a festival and I am feeling thirsty. My brother has had some excellent wines prepared. Please go there and fetch some for me.”
Draupadī answered in alarm, “O princess, I shall not go to that wicked man’s house. You have seen for yourself how shamelessly he approached me. O most beautiful lady, I asked when I came here that I be kept safe from other men. If you send me to Kichaka, he will dishonor me. Please send one of your other maids.”
“You need have no fear,” Sudeṣṇa replied dismissively. “You are being sent from the royal palace; my brother will not dare to insult you.”
The queen handed Draupadī a golden pot and waved her away. Fearful and crying, Draupadī left for Kichaka’s palace. As she walked she prayed, “As I am always faithful to my husbands, by the strength of that virtue may I be protected from Kichaka.” Draupadī looked up at the sun and asked the sun-god for his protection. Sūrya, out of compassion, ordered a Rākṣasa to invisibly protect her, and from that time on he never left her under any circumstances.
When Draupadī entered, Kichaka stood up in joy. With folded palms he said, “O fair one of beautiful tresses, you are welcome. Somehow I have managed to survive the last few days since seeing you. Now you shall become the mistress of my house. Let golden chains and brilliant ornaments of every description be brought for your pleasure. Gems, jewels and silken garments await you in abundance. I have prepared for you a fine bed. Come, drink with me the honeyed wine.”
Without looking at him Draupadī replied coldly, “Sudeṣṇa has sent me to fetch wine. Please fill this pot and let me leave quickly, for she is thirsty.”
“Let others take the queen her wine,” Kichaka said, moving toward Draupadī. “You should remain here with me.”
Kichaka took Draupadī by the arm. Crying out in fear, she said tearfully, “As I have never acted unfaithfully toward my husbands, even in my mind or heart, I shall by virtue of that truth see you hurled down and punished for this sin.”
Draupadī struggled free from Kichaka and he ran after her, grabbing hold of her upper garment as it trailed behind her. Trembling in wrath she spun round and pushed him with all her strength. Caught by surprise, he fell to the ground like a tree cut at its root. Draupadī rushed into the royal court to seek the king’s protection. Kichaka pursued her and caught her right in front of the king. Pulling her back forcefully, Kichaka kicked Draupadī and she fell to the mosaic floor. The invisible Rākṣasa appointed by the sun-god then struck Kichaka a blow with the force of the wind and he fell prostrate.
Bhīma happened to be present in the court, along with Yudhiṣṭhira, and he glared at Kichaka. The unforgiving Pāṇḍava gnashed his teeth and clenched his fists, ready to leap up at once and kill Kichaka. His eyes became dark and smoky, and terrible wrinkles appeared on his forehead along with beads of sweat. Bhīma rubbed his forehead with his huge hand, fighting his desire to hurl himself at Draupadī’s offender. Yudhiṣṭhira reached over and pressed Bhīma’s arm. “O cook, you had best go about your business,” he said in a low voice. “You are surely needed in the kitchen.”
Restrained by his elder brother, Bhīma rose up slowly and left the court with his eyes fixed on Kichaka, who was picking himself up from the floor, looking around in amazement to see who had struck him. Draupadī, seeing her husbands maintaining their disguises before the king, stood before Virata with flashing eyes. “This son of a suta has kicked me, the honored wife of those whose enemies can never sleep even if they reside in heaven. The suta’s son has kicked me, the respected consort of those who are truthful, devoted to Brahmins, and ever accustomed to giving charity. He has kicked me, the beloved wife of those who are endowed with energy, power and self-control, and who, if they were not tied down by duty, could destroy the whole of this world. Alas, where today do those warriors roam? How can they, like eunuchs, suffer their spouse to be so insulted? Where is their wrath, prowess and energy when they cannot protect their own wife from a wretch?”
As she spoke Draupadī glanced toward Yudhiṣṭhira, who was squirming in pain. Turning her gaze on Virata she went on, “What can I do? I am in this city, and he who defies virtue has coolly allowed me to be insulted before his eyes. Why does the king not act like a king toward Kichaka? O best of men, how do you tolerate this outrage? Let all the courtiers mark your failure today. Where is the virtue in either Kichaka or Virata, or even in the silent courtiers, who have witnessed Kichaka’s despicable behavior?”
Draupadī was sobbing. Virata replied, “I do not know the full details of your quarrel with Kichaka. Without knowing everything, how can I pass judgment?” The king looked at his brother-in-law, who was smiling. The aging Virata depended on Kichaka to defend his city. The king could not say anything to offend him, but the courtiers were now praising Draupadī and reproaching Kichaka. “This gentle lady is like a goddess in our midst,” they said. “Surely the man who has her for a wife wants for nothing. By insulting her, Kichaka has performed a sinful deed.”
Yudhiṣṭhira sat burning with anger. Drops of perspiration ran down his face. In a taut voice he said to Draupadī, “O Sairindhrī, you should return to Sudeṣṇa’s apartments. The wives of heroes endure pain on behalf of their husbands, but in the end they attain those blessed regions where their husbands go. I think your Gandharva husbands do not feel that the moment is right for a display of their power. You should not remain here and cause a disturbance. Be confident that your husbands will assuage your sorrow in due course.”
Draupadī, who had fallen weeping to the floor, composed herself and stood up to leave. “I practice piety for the sake of my kind and forgiving husbands. They, of whom the eldest is addicted to dice, are ever oppressed by others.”
Watched by the mystified king, she went out of the court with her head lowered and returned to the queen’s chambers. When Sudeṣṇa saw her tearful face she asked, “O beautiful one, who has slighted you? Why do you weep? O gentle one, whose happiness will come to an end today?”
Bowing before the queen, Draupadī replied, “As I went to fetch your wine, Kichaka struck me in the court in the king’s presence.”
“What? Then I shall have him chastised,” Sudeṣṇa said angrily. “O lady with curling tresses, if it is your will, then let this lustful man be killed.”
“Do not worry, O Queen. Those whom he has wronged will deal with him soon enough. I think he will go to the region of Yamarāja before long.”
Draupadī went to her own rooms and bathed herself, putting on fresh garments. She wanted to purify herself of Kichaka’s touch. Her mind dwelt on her insult and she considered how to avenge herself. She thought of Bhīma. He had obviously been ready to annihilate Kichaka on the spot. Certainly he would fulfill her desire if she approached him. She could not face another day knowing that Kichaka still lived. Seeing the king powerless to protect her, and thinking she had no protector, Kichaka would doubtlessly continue to harass her. Draupadī decided to go to Bhīma. When the palace residents were asleep, she went silently to his quarters.
As she entered his room she found him asleep, snoring like a lion. The chamber, filled with her beauty and Bhīma’s effulgence, seemed ablaze with splendor. The princess went up to Bhīma’s bed and embraced him, even as a creeper embraces a sal tree. In a voice as sweet as the sound of a vīṇā, she said, “O Bhīmasena, rise up. Why do you sleep like one dead? How can a sinful wretch survive after insulting the wife of one who lives?”
Bhīma sat up. “Why have you woken me, gentle princess? You appear wan and sorrowful. Surely the incident today in Virata’s court is the reason. I too am burning with anger as I remember it. Tell me the cause of your pain, O Pāñcālī, and I shall do whatever lies in my power. I will always do whatever pleases you, and I am prepared to deliver you from danger again and again. Quickly let me know your desire and go back to your bed before others are up.”
Draupadī wept. “How can she who has Yudhiṣṭhira for a husband ever be free of grief? You know all, O Bharata, and have no need to ask. The grief I felt when Dushashana dragged me into the assembly hall still burns me day and night. What other princess could live after such an insult? How could anyone survive what I suffered at Jayadratha’s hands? Who but me could endure being kicked in the presence of the Matsya king? Of what use is my life when you allow me to suffer all these pains, O hero?”
Bhīma gently stroked his wife’s face as she wept. She looked into his angry eyes and continued, “The wicked Kichaka wants me to marry him. As I remember his words my heart bursts like an over-ripe fruit. O slayer of foes, all my sufferings are due to your elder brother’s addiction to dice. Who else but him could have sacrificed everything, including his own self, for the sake of gambling? Having lost inestimable quantities of wealth, he now supports himself by dicing. The great king Yudhiṣṭhira, who was worshipped by throngs of Brahmins and tributary kings, now hides himself in fear, overpowered by calamity. That lord of men--who is free from cruelty, full of compassion, forbearing and truthful--has become a gambler in King Virata’s court. He now depends on another’s mercy for his subsistence. Surely he is experiencing the misery of hell.”
Draupadī poured out all her pent-up grief. The time in Virata had passed slowly for her. With no opportunity to speak to her husbands and to be solaced by them, she had suffered silently. It was agonizing to see her five heroic husbands living as servants, and her own position as a serving maid was practically intolerable. Only her sense of duty and loyalty to Yudhiṣṭhira sustained her. Although she criticized Yudhiṣṭhira to Bhīma, she would never consider being disloyal to him for even a moment. She spoke at length of her sorrow at seeing Yudhiṣṭhira’s plight, and Bhīma consoled her.
Taking hold of Bhīma’s hands, the Pañchāla princess continued. “O Bharata, I shall tell you of another great grief. Do not become angry as I speak only out of the sadness in my heart, but seeing you a servant and cook causes me more distress than I can bear. When Virata joyfully made you fight with elephants, and the ladies of his palace laughed, my mind sank in sorrow. Indeed, I fainted and the queen had to revive me. She said, ‘It seems you harbor some attachment for this cook. Both of you came to Virata together and I often see you lamenting for him. Are you attached to the handsome Vallabha?’ She still chides me in this way, which only increases my pain.”
Draupadī then described to Bhīma the pain she felt on seeing Arjuna acting as a eunuch. “The mighty Dhanañjaya, the scourge of his enemies and fearful to even the celestials, now lives in a guise despised by all men. Covering his body with gaudy clothes and bangles, that hero lives in grief, surrounded only by women. When I see the dreadful wielder of the bow decked with ornaments, with his hair tied in a braid, my heart burns with anguish.”
Bhīma remained silent as Draupadī spoke, revealing to him all the pain she was experiencing upon seeing each of her husbands in positions of servitude. Finally she concluded, “I tell you all this only so that you may be aware of my suffering. You are always my protector and shelter and I depend fully upon you, O son of Pāṇḍu. Surely in some past life I offended some great deity and am thus receiving the results. The destiny of men is difficult to understand. When I see you five brothers cast into sorrow and myself subjected to the hard miseries of a maidservant, I consider it all the work of inscrutable destiny. I do not know how much longer I can carry on, how-ever. Just look at my hands.”
Draupadī held out her hands and showed Bhīma the calluses caused by the work she did for the queen. Hearing of her suffering and seeing her condition, Bhīma covered his face and cried. After some moments he composed himself and said in sorrow, “Fie on the strength of my arms and fie to Arjuna’s Gāṇḍīva, since I now see your two lotus hands scarred by work. O princess, I would have wrought havoc in Virata’s court, but Yudhiṣṭhira restrained me. With a single kick I would have crushed Kichaka’s head. O Pāñcālī, when I saw him strike you I was ready to destroy the Matsya race. It was only due to Dharmarāja that I held back. I too suffer in silence, O beautiful one. That we have been expelled from our kingdom, that I have not yet annihilated the Kauravas, and that we are forced to live here as servants scorches my limbs and afflicts my heart as if it were pierced by a dart.”
Bhīma told Draupadī to be patient and not to criticize Yudhiṣṭhira. He cited the examples of other great ladies who had followed their husbands in times of misery. Eventually they were all brought again to happiness due to their virtuous practices. Bhīma held Draupadī’s hands. “Less than a month now remains of our exile,” he said. “After that time you will again become an empress. Do not doubt.”
Draupadī threw herself onto Bhīma’s chest. “I do not think I will last that long. The wicked-minded Kichaka will not leave me alone. He has no fear from anyone and will doubtlessly seek to outrage me if I do not accept him. That man is without virtue. He is proud, cruel, impudent and war-like, absorbed only in gratifying his senses. Even the king has no power over him, and he will not hesitate to approach me as he pleases. O Bhīma, although you Pāṇḍavas are adhering to your pledge out of virtue, you will surely suffer a loss of virtue when I am violated and give up my life. To protect one’s wife is a pious husband’s first duty, for from the wife one’s own self is born as the son. For heroes there is always virtue in repressing the enemy. O mighty one, as you have always rescued me from wicked men, I entreat you to slay Kichaka without delay. If he should live for even one more day, I will swallow poison and give up my life.”
Bhīma made up his mind. He could not stand Draupadī’s pain. Taking her by the shoulders he said, “Gentle one, I will do as you say. Today I will slay Kichaka and all his followers. Listen carefully. When the sun rises, you should go to him with sweet smiles. Tell him that you secretly hold in your heart an attraction for him. Then arrange to meet him in the evening. There is a dancing hall some way from the other residences which is empty at night. Have him come there and I shall greet him and send him to meet his ancestors.”
Overjoyed, Draupadī embraced Bhīma and left his room.
Just after dawn the next day, Kichaka went to the palace to seek her out. Finding her in the queen’s quarters he said, “O timid one, yesterday you witnessed my power. Although I threw you down in front of the king, he said nothing. He is king in name only. I am the actual ruler here. Accept me as your lord and I shall bestow heaps of gold and gems upon you. One hundred male and one hundred female servants will wait upon you. You will ride on the best of chariots. O beautiful lady, let us be united.”
Draupadī glanced down demurely. Turning herself slightly away from Kichaka she replied, “O Kichaka, our union together must be without anyone else’s knowledge. I am afraid of my husbands. If we can lie in secret, then I shall be yours.”
Kichaka, his face blooming with happiness, replied eagerly. “It shall be as you say. I am under your control and overpowered by Cupid. O lady of beautiful thighs, we can meet in some lonely place where none shall detect us.”
Feeling sickened within herself but smiling outwardly, Draupadī said, “Not far from here is the king’s dancing hall. The princess uses it only in the day. I will go there two hours after sunset. O hero, meet me there.”
Draupadī left at once and went to her own chamber. Thinking of the night to come, the day seemed like a month. On the plea of feeling ill, she remained in her room the whole day. She felt sullied by her conversation with Kichaka and would only feel peaceful when he was slain.
For his part, Kichaka was filled with anticipation. As evening approached he dressed carefully and ornamented himself. He put on fragrant garlands and smeared his limbs with perfumes and sandalwood paste. Overpowered by lust, he waited for nightfall. How the time was dragging!
As soon as the sun had set Bhīma made his way to the dancing hall. He slipped inside and hid himself, waiting for Kichaka’s arrival. Draupadī also came there; and before long, Kichaka entered the darkened hall. He called out for Draupadī. “Being praised for my beauty by the women in my house, I came here thinking of you alone. You shall become the best of my consorts and I shall give you immense wealth. O fair maiden, where are you?”
“By my good fortune you have come here tonight, O handsome one,” Draupadī replied sweetly. “I consider your touch as burning and you are an expert at gallantry. There is no other man as attractive as you are to women. O hero, I am over here.”
Kichaka moved toward the sound of Draupadī’s voice. Bhīma was hiding behind a silk drape at the side of the hall. As Kichaka passed, he suddenly came out and stood before him. Bhīma’s angry voice boomed out, “Today your sister shall behold you, vile as you are, thrown down on the earth with your limbs shattered. With you slain, Sairindhrī shall wander freely without fear. Then too shall we, her husbands, live happily.”
Bhīma immediately seized hold of Kichaka’s hair, which was adorned with garlands, and dragged him down. Kichaka was shocked. Sairindhrī had tricked him. Trying to shake off the slight inebriation from the wine he had been drinking, he pulled himself free of Bhīma’s grasp. Bhīma punched Kichaka with his iron-hard fists. Kichaka took hold of Bhīma’s two arms and tried to kick away his feet. The two mighty men shuffled violently around the hall, locked together. They appeared like the two celestial monkeys, Vāli and Sugrīva, fighting together in days of yore. Breaking apart they stood belligerently facing one another. Their upraised arms looked like two pairs of furious, five-hooded serpents. They struck one another with the force of thunderbolts. The empty hall resounded with great cracks and the walls trembled.
Enraged, they fought with fists, nails and teeth. They kicked and hurled each other about with the force of a tempest. Neither showed fatigue nor wavered. Blows rained down without cessation as both men became worked up into a fury. Like two powerful bulls, they came against each other again and again. As their blows landed the air was filled with the sound of trees splitting open. Kichaka was astonished at his opponent’s power. Although he had fought and defeated great heroes all over the world, he had never encountered such a foe. It was like fighting with a mountain or the earth itself. Kichaka exerted himself to his full power, trying to throw the unshakeable Bhīma to the ground, but Bhīma caught him in an embrace that crushed him like a steel vice.
Breathing in deeply and expanding his massive chest, Kichaka broke free. Bhīma instantly came at him again and struck him on the breast. Then he threw Kichaka across the hall as a hurricane tosses a tree. Mustering all his strength Kichaka rushed at Bhīma and took hold of his neck. He pulled the Pāṇḍava down and brought his knee up into his chest with all his power. Bhīma was thrown to the floor and he rolled over quickly. He looked up at Kichaka with burning eyes. Appearing like Yamarāja with mace in hand, he rose from the floor blazing with anger. He bellowed at Kichaka and rushed at him like a maddened elephant charging another. The two heroes again locked together, grunting and grappling as they moved about the hall.
Although Kichaka was a powerful fighter, expert in all forms of combat, he found all his moves more than matched by Bhīma. Gradually he felt his strength waning. Bhīma, seeing his foe weakening, became even more energetic. He took hold of Kichaka and crushed him in his mace-like arms. Unable to catch his breath, Kichaka fell senseless to the floor. Bhīma grabbed his hair and roared like a lion that had just killed a large animal. Lifting his groggy opponent above his head, he whirled him about violently. Bhīma then smashed Kichaka onto the marble floor and fell upon him. Placing his knees on Kichaka’s chest he took hold of his throat, strangling him. Draupadī was joyful as she watched Bhīma pound Kichaka into a mutilated mess. He thrust his arms, legs and head into his body, and reduced him to a shapeless lump of flesh.
His anger appeased by Kichaka’s death, Bhīma stood up. He turned to Draupadī. “See what I have done to this wretch, Pāñcālī. You should know that any who seek to harm you will meet a similar end, O beautiful-haired one.”
Bhīma left the hall and made his way back to his room. Draupadī returned to the palace and told the guards that they should go to the dancing hall. “There you will find he who desired another’s wife. Slain by my Gandharva husbands, he lies weltering in gore.”
The guards ran to the hall and saw the dead Kichaka. They gazed in amazement at his mangled body. Gradually thousands of soldiers came there to see their slain commander lying amid his scattered ornaments. All of them were astonished. He was hardly recognizable. Who was capable of such a feat? Kichaka was an almost invincible warrior who had beaten the best wrestlers and fighters in the world. The soldiers gasped in disbelief. None of them suspected Vallabha. Struck with wonder they stood about asking, “Who could have done this? Where are Kichaka’s arms and legs? Where is his head?”
As Kichaka’s followers looked at him they were filled with fear. Talking among themselves they concluded that their leader must have been killed by the Gandharvas. They lifted his body, which resembled the body of a tortoise with its limbs withdrawn, and carried him outside the hall to perform the last rites. As they made their way to the cremation ground they saw Draupadī watching them. Knowing that Kichaka had gone to meet her, some of them exclaimed, “There is the unchaste one for whom Kichaka was slain. She too should be killed. Let us burn her along with our lord.”
A couple of the soldiers sought the king’s permission to execute Draupadī by placing her on the fire with Kichaka. The king, knowing the power of his commander’s followers, agreed. The sutas at once ran to Draupadī and seized her. They bound the struggling princess and placed her upon the large bier with Kichaka’s corpse. Draupadī cried out in terror as she was carried toward the crematorium. “May Jaya, Jayanta, Vijaya, Jayatsena and Jayadbala hear my words! Save me! The sutas are carrying me away. Let those heroic Gandharvas, whose chariots and bows resound like thunder, understand that their wife is in great peril.”
Bhīma heard her pitiful cries. Without hesitation, he ran from his room. He could understand that Kichaka’s followers were taking Draupadī to the crematorium. The Pāṇḍava went there by a different route without being seen, his head covered with a cloth. Scaling walls and crossing gardens he swiftly reached the cremation ground which lay just outside the city. He found a great palmyra tree and immediately uprooted it. He placed it on his shoulders. Kichaka’s followers arrived and saw Bhīma standing like Death personified holding his rod of chastisement. They howled in fear. “Here is the Gandharva who killed Kichaka. Release Sairindhrī before he kills us all.”
The sutas put Draupadī down and ran in all directions. Bhīma pursued them relentlessly and struck them down with the tree. As he struck out at them, he knocked over other trees, which fell crashing to the ground. Roaring like a furious lion, the Pāṇḍava slew all the sutas one after another. In a short time, the crematorium was covered with more than a hundred dead bodies. They all lay about like uprooted trees. Telling Draupadī to return to her rooms, Bhīma quickly went back by the route he had come before anyone discovered him.
The people of Virata, hearing the commotion from the crematorium, rushed to see what was causing it. Discovering the slain sutas, they ran to the king and informed him. “O King, the powerful suta followers of Kichaka have all been killed. They are scattered about like so many mountain summits clapped by thunderbolts. Surely this is the work of the Gandharvas, enraged by Kichaka’s assault on Sairindhrī. She is now returning to your city unharmed. We are afraid of her. She is beautiful beyond compare, the Gandharvas are powerful and wrathful, and men are undoubtedly lustful. Quickly do something so that our city may not be destroyed.”
Virata was astonished. “Let Kichaka and all his followers be cremated on one great pyre with gems and perfumes. I will take care of Sairindhrī.”
Turning to his wife the king said, “When Sairindhrī comes, tell her this from me: ‘O fair one, please go wherever you like with my blessings. We are afraid the Gandharvas will destroy us. Indeed, I am too fearful to even speak with you directly.’”
As Draupadī entered the city, the people fled in all directions like deer seeing a tiger. Some even shut their eyes and covered their heads. Draupadī went back into the palace. After she had bathed the queen approached her and conveyed Virata’s message. Draupadī replied, “O Queen, allow me to remain here for only two more weeks. The Gandharvas will be obliged to you for this favor. After that, they will take me away from here and do whatever is agreeable to you.”
The queen assented and released Draupadī from her duties. After telling her to remain in the palace until her husbands came, she left to inform the king.
1.37: The Kurus Attack Virata
The news of Kichaka’s death spread from country to country. Everyone was amazed to hear of his mysterious killing and the subsequent death of his one hundred followers. In Hastināpura, the spies dispatched by Duryodhana came to the court and reported everything they had seen and heard. After informing the Kurus that they had found no trace of the Pāṇḍavas, they then told them about Kichaka’s death. The Kurus were joyful to hear this news. Kichaka had been a thorn in their side, often attacking surrounding countries and defeating their armies. Many times the Kurus had been approached by tributary kings seeking protection from Kichaka. Now he and his generals were dead, apparently killed by invisible Gandharvas.
Duryodhana pondered the news. Less than two weeks remained of the Pāṇḍavas’ exile. Although he had sent out thousands of spies, none had managed to find them. The Pāṇḍavas had hidden themselves well--if they were even alive.
The prince summoned his courtiers and said, “You should arrange for one final search for the Pāṇḍavas. Have the best of our men scour every city and town. If those heroes still live, we face great danger. We are expecting them to emerge from exile surrounded by their forces. Let us discover them before this happens and send them back to the forest.”
Dushashana agreed. “We should certainly make a great effort to locate the Pāṇḍavas, but I doubt we will find them. We have already searched every city and town. Either they have perished or they have crossed the ocean. I think they are gone forever. I do not think we need fear them.”
When Dushashana sat down, Droṇa stood up and said, “Persons like the Pāṇḍavas never meet destruction. They are heroic, resourceful, intelligent, self-controlled, pious, grateful, and attached to observing vows. Yudhiṣṭhira is both virtuous and without enemies. He is their leader. Thus they are patiently waiting the day when they can return and overcome their misfortunes. This is my opinion. O Duryodhana, you will see the Pāṇḍavas at the end of their exile and not before. Do not waste your energy searching for them. Rather, you should prepare a welcome for them. Give them back their kingdom.”
Bhīṣma applauded Droṇa’s speech. The Kuru grandfather longed to again see Pāṇḍu’s sons. Their exile had passed slowly for him. His guilt at not having prevented Duryodhana from banishing them burned him day and night. The pain of remembering how Draupadī had been violated was especially acute. Bhīṣma felt helpless. Dhṛtarāṣṭra did not heed his advice, and the evil-minded Duryodhana was left to do as he pleased. Now the Pāṇḍavas would finally be returning. Surely they had suffered enough. Perhaps the king could now be convinced to return to them their kingdom. Like the full moon rising in the east, Bhīṣma, clad in white silks, rose from his seat to address the assembly.
“I fully agree with Droṇa. The virtuous Pāṇḍavas, guided by the Brahmins and walking always on a righteous path, will not perish. They who have as a friend the infallible and all-powerful Kṛṣṇa cannot be overcome by misfortune. The pure-souled Yudhiṣṭhira can consume his enemies with his glance alone. We should consider carefully how to deal with them now that their exile is ending. It is certainly a mean policy to search for them. I have another view. Listen carefully and I will speak for our good. A counselor should always speak the beneficial truth and never anything evil.”
Bhīṣma looked around the Kuru assembly hall. At its head sat Dhṛtarāṣṭra, flanked by Vidura, Droṇa, Kṛpa, Bāhlika, and himself. Duryodhana and his brothers sat to the king’s right, along with Karṇa and Śakuni. Other kings sat in the assembly and all gazed intently at him as he spoke. Although it was well known that he loved the Pāṇḍavas dearly, the assembled kings knew he would never be partial. His first thoughts were for the welfare of the entire Kuru race, and he dealt equally with everyone, desiring nothing but their good fortune. Placing his hand on his golden- hilted sword, Bhīṣma continued.
“As far as locating the Pāṇḍavas is concerned, I will tell you where to find them. Look for that place where there are no calamities or disasters. Where the pious Yudhiṣṭhira dwells, there will be an atmosphere of peace and security. The people will be inclined toward charity and will be liberal, humble and modest. There the people will be cheerfully performing their respective duties, attached to piety, truthfulness and purity. You will hear the Vedic hymns being chanted and see sacrifices being performed. Clouds will shower abundant rains and the earth will be bearing crops. There will be signs of wealth everywhere, and no one will be miserable. Indeed, that place where Yudhiṣṭhira lives will resemble the heavens. Knowing all this, O Kurus, consider what should be done. In my view, we should give up our petty attempts to find them just to send them again to the forest. Let us welcome them back and restore to them their father’s kingdom.”
Bhīṣma sat down, applauded by Droṇa, Vidura and Kṛpa, who himself rose from his seat and said, “What the aged Bhīṣma has said is undoubtedly correct and meant only for our good. His words are reasonable, truthful, and consistent with scripture. Returning the Pāṇḍavas’ kingdom is surely the wisest course of action.”
Looking across at Duryodhana and his brothers, Kṛpa said, “But if we are not to follow this course, then we had best prepare for war. When those powerful heroes return, they will be burning with energy and ascetic power. Therefore, consider now how to expand your own forces. Seek out your allies and make treaties with them. Build a vast, unassailable army. If you deny the Pāṇḍavas their rights, then we face the gravest possible danger.”
Duryodhana was pensive. Kṛpa was right. If he did not return the Pāṇḍavas’ kingdom, there would no doubt be a fight. But he had no intention of returning their kingdom. The fight was inevitable--unless they could be discovered first and sent back into exile. The Kaurava prince thought carefully. The report about Kichaka had intrigued him. Apparently he had been slain by the five Gandharva husbands of a single woman. The coincidence with Draupadī and the Pāṇḍavas was almost incredible, especially because there were only a handful of men who could have killed Kichaka in hand-to-hand combat: Balarāma, Śalya, Karṇa--and Bhīma. It could not have been the first three, because what reason would any of them have had for going to Virata and killing Kichaka in secret? He had been beaten to a pulp in the dead of night. That sounded suspiciously like Bhīma. And he would have had to do it in secret. It added up. Kichaka had violated a woman with five husbands and had been slain in a manner that bore Bhīma’s unmistakable stamp.
As Duryodhana pondered, Susharma, king of the Trigartas, took advantage of the silence and said, “O Kurus, if you desire to expand your forces, you can begin by bringing Virata under your subjection. Now he is without Kichaka and his followers should be little trouble. Let us go and take his wealth. Subjugating him, you shall increase both your treasury and your army by requisitioning his forces. I will bring my own army to assist you. Too many times have the Trigartas been overpowered by Kichaka. Now we shall avenge ourselves on the Matsyas.”
Duryodhana felt that the gods--or perhaps the Dānavas--had answered him. If he went to Virata, they might find the Pāṇḍavas. If they were not there, then there was no loss. He would still gain something by winning over that kingdom. The prince stood up and issued instructions. “Susharma has made an excellent suggestion. We should go to the Matsya kingdom immediately. Prepare our army to leave at once. As he has suggested, Susharma will accompany us with his own forces.”
Duryodhana ordered that they depart the next day. He told Susharma to go ahead with his army and begin by taking away Virata’s cattle. Duryodhana would follow with his forces and attack the city. As the other Kuru elders sat in silence, Dhṛtarāṣṭra gave his approval and preparations were begun.
* * *
After Kichaka’s death Virata’s citizens were afraid. Although Kichaka had been cruel, he had also been powerful enough to protect them. Now they had no protector. How long would it be before some aggressive monarch tried to conquer them? The king, desperate to replace his commander, considered Kaṅka, Vallabha, Tantripala and Granthika. It seemed to him that any of them could lead his army and protect the Matsyas.
It was not long before Virata was presented with an opportunity to test his ideas. One morning as he sat in court, a cowherd ran in and exclaimed, “The Trigartas are attacking us and stealing your cows, O King. Come quickly to rescue them.”
The king immediately issued orders for his army to assemble. He called for his armor and weapons and prepared to lead his army. His four sons surrounded him, also ready for battle. In a short time, hundreds of other powerful warrior chiefs assembled in the court. Outside the assembly hall, the vast Matsya army lined the streets, ready to march. Chariots, elephants, horses and infantry created a clamor that resembled the ocean’s roar.
Virata’s younger brother, Satanika, stood by the king’s side. The king said, “I have no doubt that Kaṅka, Vallabha, Tantripala and Granthika will fight. Give them armor and chariots adorned with flags. I do not think such men, endowed as they are with bodies like mountains and arms like elephants’ trunks, will not join the battle.”
Virata strode anxiously out of his hall to organize his army, while Satanika had chariots fetched for the Pāṇḍavas. Having the four of them brought before him, Satanika presented them with armor and weapons and ordered them to fight. Enlivened by the thought of a battle, the Pāṇḍavas selected suitable armor and put it on. They mounted chariots and rode out of the city behind the king.
The Matsya monarch charged into battle on a massive chariot surrounded by his sons and the Pāṇḍavas. In his burnished armor, adorned with a hundred suns and a hundred eyes, the king shone like the sun encircled by the major planets. Behind them came a thousand infuriated elephants. Eight thousand chariot fighters and sixty thousand horsemen followed them, holding their weapons aloft and sending out terrible war cries. The entire army seemed like a mass of clouds charged with lightning moving across the earth.
The Trigartas were still rounding up Virata’s huge herd as the Matsya army rushed upon them. Quickly abandoning the cows where they would not be harmed, the Trigarta warriors met the Matsya’s charge. A fierce battle ensued on the grazing grounds. As the enraged warriors slew one another, the battle resembled the one that had once taken place between the gods and the demons. A thick dust cloud rose up from the field, obscuring everything and screening the afternoon sun. Thick showers of arrows whistled through the air and warriors fell by the thousands. The screaming fighters hacked at one another with their swords and axes.
As the blood of slain fighters flowed into the dust on the field, the cloud subsided. Heads adorned with helmets and earrings were rolling on the earth. Well-muscled arms, their gloved hands still clutching weapons, lay on the ground like serpents. Shattered chariots and pieces of armor were strewn everywhere. Vultures descended and tore at the bodies of the dead fighters. Jackals surrounded the battlefield.
Susharma, mounted on a gold chariot, came before Virata and bellowed out a challenge. He immediately released a hundred powerful arrows that struck Virata’s armor and fell to the ground. Roaring like maddened bulls, the two kings circled one another with their weapons upraised. They discharged arrows like clouds pouring torrents of rain. Seeing him engaging with the Matsya king, Susharma’s two brothers came to his assistance. With well-aimed arrows, they killed Virata’s four horses and his charioteer. They then slew the warriors protecting his sides and rear. Susharma leapt from his chariot with his sword held high and rushed toward Virata. With his two brothers, he seized Virata and took him captive.
Yudhiṣṭhira saw Virata being led away on Susharma’s chariot. He quickly went over to Bhīma and called out, “The Matsya king has been captured and his army routed. We have lived peacefully in his kingdom this last year and are indebted to the king. Bhīma, free Virata and thus repay our debt. We shall then put the Trigartas to flight.”
Bhīma’s eyes glinted at the prospect of the fight. He had been awaiting Yudhiṣṭhira’s command before engaging in the battle. “So be it,” he replied. “Behold my prowess. I shall take hold of that huge tree over there like a mace and disperse the entire Trigarta army.”
Bhīma moved toward a huge sal tree nearby, but Yudhiṣṭhira checked him. “O child, do not be rash. If you uproot this tree and perform superhuman deeds, people will be amazed and say, ‘Surely this is Bhīma.’ Take some other weapon so that people will not recognize you. Go on your chariot and the twins will protect your wheels. Release the king.”
Bhīma urged on his charioteer and raced toward Susharma, who was heading away with the captive king. Nakula and Sahadeva rode on either side and carved through the Trigarta forces. Approaching Susharma, Bhīma yelled, “Wait! Turn and fight! Behold now a mighty feat of arms as I throw you down with all your followers.”
Bhīma let go a steady stream of arrows and Susharma turned to face him. When the Trigarta king saw the powerful Bhīma and the twins before him, it seemed to him that Yamarāja, flanked by Death and Time, had come to do battle. Along with his sons and generals he tried to withstand the Pāṇḍavas’ attack, but hundreds were being killed. Chariots were smashed and elephants slain. Horses with their riders fell like trees blown over in a storm. The Pāṇḍavas’ forceful arrows swept in clouds through Susharma’s ranks and created havoc. Bhīma leapt from his chariot and rushed about, whirling his mace, mowing the infantry down like a field of corn.
Witnessing the devastation, Susharma was astonished. It seemed that they would be annihilated by these three warriors. He pulled his bow back to his ear and sent long steel shafts at the roaring Pāṇḍavas. Bhīma struck the straight-flying arrows with his mace and the twins struck at them with their swords. Encouraged by the Pāṇḍavas’ prowess, the remainder of Virata’s army rallied and charged back into the fight. Yudhiṣṭhira rode into their midst, working a great bow. With sharpened arrows the eldest Pāṇḍava quickly dispatched a thousand Trigarta warriors to Death’s abode. Bhīma, back on his chariot and fighting alongside his brother, killed seven thousand. Nakula and Sahadeva, focusing their efforts on protecting their elder brothers, slew a further thousand brave Trigarta fighters.
Susharma began to retreat and Bhīma went after him swiftly. He killed Susharma’s four horses and brought him to a halt. Seeing his opportunity, Virata grabbed a mace and leapt from the chariot. The old Matsya king began fighting Susharma’s troops, wielding his mace and dancing about like a young man. Susharma jumped from his chariot and raced away. Bhīma called out to him, “Stop! It is not becoming of heroes to fly away. With such prowess why did you think of stealing Virata’s cows? Why are you now abandoning your followers?”
Susharma, provoked, again turned to face Bhīma. “Stand and fight!” he shouted, brandishing his iron club.
Bhīma leapt down and rushed toward the bellowing Susharma as a lion attacks a deer. Not caring for Susharma’s blows, Bhīma seized him by the hair and dashed him to the ground. Pulling him back up, he struck him several fierce blows. Susharma fell gasping to the ground. Bhīma placed his knee on his breast and dealt him powerful blows to the head. Susharma lost consciousness and Bhīma dragged him to his chariot. He took the insensible Trigarta king to Virata and said, “Behold this sinful man, whom I have captured. Surely he does not deserve to live.”
The king replied, “Release the wretch.”
Bhīma dragged Susharma to his feet and, as he returned to consciousness, snarled at him, “Although I should slay you for stealing the cows, I will release you. According to kṣatriya custom, you are now Virata’s slave. You must declare this wherever you go. Only if you agree to this condition will you be allowed to live. Go now and do not again perform such rash acts.”
Susharma bent his head low and climbed down from the chariot. He bowed to Virata and left, taking with him the remnants of his army.
The Matsyas cheered. They surrounded the Pāṇḍavas, still unaware of their identities, and praised them. Virata said, “Today I have been saved by you four heroes. All this kingdom’s wealth is as much yours as it is mine. I will bestow upon you richly adorned women and heaps of gems. Tell me what you wish to have and it is yours. Indeed, become the rulers of my kingdom. What more can I say?”
Yudhiṣṭhira said humbly, “O King, we are pleased with your words, but it is sufficient for us that you are freed from danger.”
“Come,” Virata said. “I will install you as king of the Matsyas. How can I rule in your majestic presence? It is due to you alone that I am even able to see my kingdom and my relatives today.”
Yudhiṣṭhira held up his hands in deference. “We are not able to rule Matsya. Pray forgive us. O King, you should continue to rule this prosperous kingdom in peace and happiness. Send emissaries into the capital to announce your victory. In keeping with the custom of the victorious, we must spend this night on the battlefield.”
Virata turned to his ministers and ordered them to carry news of their victory to the city. “Let damsels and courtesans, decked with ornaments and carrying musical instruments, come out of the city to entertain the troops,” the king said delightedly. The ministers left at once and the warriors prepared to spend the night on the field.
1.38: Arjuna Encounters the Kurus
At dawn the next day, the Kaurava army arrived at the opposite side of the city from where the battle with the Trigartas had been fought. Finding herds of cattle grazing there, they immediately seized them. Once again the terrified cowherds, seeing the Kaurava banners, fled into the city. They ran to the royal court crying for protection. Virata’s eldest son, Bhuminjaya, was sitting on the king’s throne in the king’s absence. The cowherd leader came before him and said, “O prince, O mighty hero, we depend on you alone. The mighty Kauravas with Duryodhana in the lead are seizing our cows. Defend the honor of our race. The king has always praised your heroism and power. Taking whatever soldiers that still remain in the city, display your power. You are this kingdom’s greatest support. You resemble Arjuna himself. We beseech you to save us.”
Addressed thus in front of the palace ladies, Bhuminjaya replied proudly, “I will surely display my prowess with the bow today, but I need a skilled charioteer. My own charioteer was recently slain and has not been replaced. Find the best of men to drive my horses, for I will fight a tremendous battle with the haughty Kauravas. Entering into their army of elephants, chariots and horsemen, I will destroy them. After striking terror into the hearts of Duryodhana, Bhīṣma, Karṇa and Kṛpa, I will bring back the cows. The assembled Kurus will see my prowess and will wonder whether it is Arjuna who is fighting with them.
The prince’s brave words circulated through the palace and soon reached Arjuna. Delighted at the chance to confront Duryodhana, he approached Draupadī and said, “Go at once to the prince and tell him that Bṛhannala was formerly Arjuna’s charioteer. O slender-waisted princess, convince him to let me drive his chariot into battle against the Kurus.”
Draupadī went straight to the royal court where she found Bhuminjaya still vaunting his prowess. Unable to bear his repeated references to Arjuna, she stepped forward and said, “The beautiful youth resembling an elephant and known by the name Bṛhannala was once Arjuna’s charioteer. He was the disciple of Pārtha and is himself a mighty bowman. I saw him when I lived with the Pāṇḍavas. It was Bṛhannala who drove Arjuna’s chariot when he vanquished the gods at Khāṇḍava. Indeed there is no charioteer like him.”
Bhuminjaya looked at her in surprise. “How can I ask a eunuch to govern my horses?” he asked.
“Have your sister ask him, O hero. He will certainly do her bidding. Do not hesitate to engage him. With Bṛhannala as your charioteer, you will undoubtedly vanquish the Kurus and rescue the cows.”
Still doubtful, the prince turned to his sister Uttarā and said, “Go at once and fetch Bṛhannala.”
Virata’s daughter nodded and left the court. That lotus-eyed maiden was as beautiful as Lakṣmī herself with her slender waist and well-rounded breasts adorned with pearls. She ran to the dancing hall, her golden ornaments tinkling as she hurried along. Finding Arjuna, she bowed humbly before him. “O Bṛhannala, our cows are being carried away by the Kurus. My brother, full of heroism, is about to confront them with bow in hand. He requires a charioteer. Sairindhrī told him that you formerly drove Arjuna’s chariot. She said that there was none equal to you in the skills of governing horses and driving chariots. Therefore, O Bṛhannala, become the prince’s charioteer. Go quickly! There is no time to lose.”
Arjuna smiled. “I am going.” He immediately left the palace followed by Uttarā, just as an elephant in rut is followed by a she-elephant.
As he entered the court the prince called, “Ah, Bṛhannala, you are here. I have heard that you are skilled in the driving chariots. As you drove Arjuna’s chariot into battle against his foes, so today you should drive mine against the Kurus.”
Arjuna approached the king and glanced downwards, playing with the long braid of hair that hung down his side. “What power do I have to act as a charioteer? Had you wanted song and dance, then I would have been the right choice. How can I drive horses into battle?”
The prince looked at Bṛhannala. Although a eunuch, he was huge-bodied and appeared to possess great power. His arms, covered with bangles and bracelets, seemed like decorated serpents, and his shoulders, draped with white silk, were as broad as a palace door. Having faith in Sairindhrī’s words, Bhuminjaya said, “O Bṛhannala, whatever you may be, drive my chariot today. We shall challenge the wicked Kurus on the battlefield.”
The prince had a suit of armor brought for Arjuna. As if to make fun, Arjuna struggled to put it on in various wrong ways. He appeared bewildered and dropped the armor with a loud clatter. The palace ladies laughed and Bhuminjaya came over to help him don the shining mail. He then led Arjuna out to his chariot, which flew a flag bearing the sign of a lion. The prince climbed aboard his chariot, his armor shining brilliantly in the morning sun. Arjuna took his place at the front of the chariot and held the reins. The palace maidens called out to him, “O Bṛhannala, after the prince defeats the Kurus, take from them their fine silks and clothes as a token of your victory. We desire to have those cloths for our dolls.”
“When the prince has overpowered the Kurus I shall surely bring back many beautiful clothes for you,” Arjuna replied, throwing back his hair.
As Bhuminjaya was about to set off for battle, the Brahmins blessed him: “May that great victory which Arjuna obtained at Khāṇḍava be yours today when you meet the Kurus,” and they walked around the chariot with their hands held palms outwards.
Arjuna urged on the horses and the chariot moved off with a deep rumbling sound. Guided by Arjuna, the horses, decorated with golden necklaces and silver armor, seemed to fly through the air. Within a short time the chariot came within sight of the Kurus and Arjuna brought it to a halt. They were not far from the cremation ground where his weapons were kept. The prince and Arjuna gazed at the Kuru army in the distance. It seemed like a vast ocean, or a forest of high trees moving through the sky. The dust raised by the army rose up in a great cloud that screened the sun.
Bhuminjaya’s mouth fell open. He had never seen such a huge army. His hair stood on end and he dropped his bow. “How can I fight such an enemy?” he exclaimed, trembling. “Even the celestials could not face them. The Kuru army has in their midst heroes like Droṇa, Bhīṣma, Karṇa, Kṛpa, Aśvatthāmā, and the heroic king Duryodhana. Simply seeing them from a distance I have become terrified.”
Wailing loudly, the prince ordered Arjuna to return to the city. “It is not wise to confront this army. My father has gone out with the army and I am alone. I have not practiced the skills of warfare. I am only a boy. I cannot overcome those who are expert in arms. O Bṛhannala, head back to the capital.”
Arjuna turned to face the terrified prince. “Why do you increase your enemies’ delight, O prince? You have become pale with fear before you have even begun to fight. Before both men and women you loudly vaunted your powers. You said, ‘I shall defeat the Kurus and bring back the cows.’ Those were brave words. O mighty-armed hero, how can you now return unsuccessful? You will be derided by everyone. As for myself, eulogized by Sairindhrī and commanded by you, I have come here to defeat the Kurus. I will not return without achieving that goal. Stop wailing and let us proceed into battle.”
Bhuminjaya stood shaking in the chariot. “Let the Kurus take our wealth as they please. Let men and women laugh at me. Let the cows go anywhere. Let the city be desolate. Let me fear my father. I cannot enter the battle.”
The prince jumped down from his chariot and began to run back toward the city. Arjuna called out to him, “A brave kṣatriya never flees the battlefield. Better to die in battle than to run in fear.”
Bhuminjaya did not listen. With his long sword swinging from side to side as he ran, he did not even look back. Arjuna sprang from the chariot and ran after him.
Having seen the chariot’s approach, the Kurus had moved toward them. They saw the prince running in fear and an unusual figure pursuing him, his long braid and white silks streaming in the breeze. The Kuru soldiers laughed and said to one another, “Who is this person, who appears to be a eunuch? He is fire concealed by ashes. Although assuming the form of a neuter, he has the body of an elephant. Indeed he resembles Arjuna, with the same head, the same neck, and the same mace-like arms. His movements also resemble those of the Pāṇḍava.”
The Kurus gazed at Bṛhannala as he raced after the prince. Clearly he was no eunuch. Surely it was Arjuna in disguise. Who else would have dared to face the Kuru army alone? Obviously the Matsya prince had ventured to fight simply out of childishness. It seemed that Arjuna was trying to stop him from fleeing. The Kuru warriors watched the scene, not quite certain if they were seeing Arjuna or not.
Catching Bhuminjaya, Arjuna seized him. The prince cried out, “Let me go! O Bṛhannala, turn back the chariot. Only one who lives can secure prosperity and happiness. When we get back I will give you one hundred coins of pure gold, eight brilliant vaidurya gems, an excellent car drawn by the best of horses, and ten infuriated elephants if you release me.”
Arjuna said nothing. He dragged the prince back to the chariot. He then said, “O repressor of foes, if you do not like to fight, let us swap places. You govern the horses and I will fight the enemy. Protected by my arms you may fearlessly enter into the midst of the dreadful Kuru host. Why are you distraught, O hero? You are the foremost of kṣatriyas and a great prince. Together we will overpower the Kurus and release the cows. Take the reins and we will proceed into battle.”
Bhuminjaya was still terrified, but he became encouraged by Arjuna’s confidence. He sat on the chariot and took the reins. Arjuna directed him to guide the chariot toward the sami tree by the crematorium. Before facing the Kurus he wanted to retrieve his Gāṇḍīva bow.
As the chariot moved off with Arjuna now in the back, the Kurus spoke together. All of them suspected that the so-called eunuch was actually Arjuna. Within the hearing of Duryodhana, Bhīṣma and Karṇa, Droṇa said, “I perceive numerous ill omens. Violent winds are whipping up around us, throwing dust and gravel over our troops. The sky is shrouded with darkness and huge black clouds are forming overhead. Our celestial weapons seem to be jumping from their cases and our horses are shedding tears. Jackals are yelling hideously nearby. All these signs indicate a calamity. Protect yourselves and arrange the army well. Expect a great slaughter and guard well the cows. This great bowman in the guise of a eunuch is undoubtedly Pārtha. O heroic men, surely this man dressed as a woman is Kirīṭī, whose chariot bears the emblem of Hanumān, the destroyer of Lanka’s gardens. Indignant after his long stay in the forest, he will today wreak havoc in battle. I do not see anyone here who can stop him from defeating us and taking back the cows.”
As Droṇa spoke, Karṇa became angry. “Why do you always make light of us and praise Arjuna? He is not even a sixteenth part of either myself or Duryodhana.”
But Duryodhana was smiling. “If this is Pārtha, O Radheya, then my work is done. We have discovered the Pāṇḍavas before their final year is complete. Now they will have to return to the forest. If this is anyone else in eunuch’s guise, I shall soon lay him flat on the ground with my sharp arrows.”
Arjuna’s chariot soon reached the sami tree, out of sight of the Kurus. Arjuna said, “Climb this tree, O prince, and bring down that bundle up there. It holds the weapons I need. Your bow and arrows will not withstand the force of my arms when, worked up with anger, I defeat our enemies. Here are the Pāṇḍavas’ weapons, including the Gāṇḍīva bow, as huge as a palm tree and embellished with gold. It is a celestial bow without blemish, and it is capable of bearing the heaviest weight.”
Bhuminjaya looked up at the bundle high in the tree. “It is heard that a corpse is tied to this tree. How can I, a prince, touch such an unclean thing?”
“Do not be afraid, O prince. This is no corpse. There are only weapons wrapped in that bundle. Bring them down at once. I would not make you perform a cursed deed, born as you are of a noble race and heir to the Matsya king.”
Bhuminjaya reluctantly climbed the tree. He cut the bundle loose with his sword and brought it down to the ground, struggling under its huge weight. Arjuna told him to open the bundle and the prince cut away the deerskin covering. As the weapons were revealed they shone like the sun. Bhuminjaya gasped. The blazing weapons resembled sighing serpents. The prince was awestruck. He reached out to touch them and asked, “To what illustrious hero does this bow, with its hundred golden embellishments, belong? And whose is this one, embossed with shining golden elephants? Surely some powerful warrior owns this bow, decorated with three effulgent suns.”
Bhuminjaya carefully lifted the brilliant weapons. Arjuna’s two inexhaustible quivers lay next to Nakula and Sahadeva’s swords, which had hilts worked with gold. Both swords were sheathed in tiger skins. Arjuna explained who owned the weapons.
“The bow about which you asked first is the Gāṇḍīva. It is equal to a hundred thousand other bows and is worshipped even by the celestials. It was first held by Brahmā, then by Indra and Soma, and now it has come to Arjuna through Varuṇa. The bow next to the Gāṇḍīva, adorned with a hundred golden insects, belongs to Yudhiṣṭhira, and the huge bow next to that is Bhīma’s. The quivers containing winged shafts as sharp as razors belong to Arjuna. Those arrows become inexhaustible in battle. The sword nearby the quivers bearing the emblem of a black bee and carrying the sting of a bee is also Arjuna’s.”
Arjuna described each weapon and its owner to the amazed prince. When he had finished Bhuminjaya said, “These weapons are both beautiful and dreadful, but where are their owners? Where is Arjuna and the noble Yudhiṣṭhira? Where indeed are the twins and the mightiest of men, Bhīma? We never hear of those heroes, who are capable of destroying all enemies but who lost their kingdom in a game of dice. Where is Draupadī, the jewel among women, who followed them faithfully to the forest?”
Arjuna then revealed to the prince his identity and that of all his brothers. The prince looked at him in astonishment. He had never suspected it, but now it seemed obvious. The mighty Vallabha could well be Bhīma, and Kaṅka always had a certain nobility and bearing which outshone the other courtiers. Surely he could be Yudhiṣṭhira. But the prince still needed to be convinced. He asked Arjuna, “I shall believe your words if you can tell me Arjuna’s ten names, which I have heard before.”
Arjuna replied, “Because I conquered many countries and collected their wealth, I am called Dhanañjaya. I never return from battle without defeating my enemy and thus I am called Vijaya. My steeds are white and so they call me Swetavahana. I was born when the constellation Uttarā Phālguna was in the ascendant; therefore, I am Phālgunī. Because I wear the brilliant diadem given to me by Indra, I am called Kirīṭī. I am dreadful to behold in battle and so men call me Bhibatsu. I am named Savyasācin because I can draw the bow with either hand. Being unapproachable and irrepressible, I am known as Jiṣṇu. Arjuna is my name because I always perform white deeds of great purity. My father, out of affection for a black-complexioned boy, called me Kṛṣṇa. These are my ten names, O prince.”
Bhuminjaya fell at Arjuna’s feet with his arms outstretched. “By my good luck I have seen you, O Dhanañjaya. Please forgive anything I may have said to you in my ignorance. You are worthy of my worship. My fears are all removed and I am ready to act as your charioteer. Please order me.”
“I will fight the Kurus and return your animals. Have no doubt,” Arjuna said as he strapped on his quivers. “This chariot will be like your citadel with my arms for its ramparts and the Gāṇḍīva as its unassailable defenses. Simply guide this chariot and have no fear.”
The prince placed the Pāṇḍavas’ weapons in the chariot. “With you in the chariot, how can I be afraid? But I am bewildered as to how you have accepted the guise of a eunuch. It seems incredible that one of your prowess and power should assume such a form.”
Arjuna smiled. “I am observing a vow, both to acquire religious merit and to satisfy another’s will. That vow is now complete, O prince.”
The Pāṇḍavas had calculated that the full term of their exile was completed that day. Thus Arjuna had revealed his identity to the prince without fear. Now he would fight openly with the Kurus. He looked at the horses yoked to the chariot. “Are these horses battle-trained?” he asked.
“These horses are equal to the four horses that draw Kṛṣṇa’s chariot,” the prince answered proudly. “I myself am a skilled driver, no less skilled than Dāruka or Mātali. I will break through the enemy ranks with such speed that the chariot will hardly be visible.”
Arjuna nodded and removed his bangles. He pulled on a pair of iguana-skin gloves that covered his forearms. Tying back his hair with a piece of white cloth, he sat on the chariot and thought of his celestial weapons. They appeared within his mind and said, “We are here, O son of Pāṇḍu. We are prepared to do your bidding.”
“All of you dwell within my memory,” Arjuna said with delight. The thought of battle with Duryodhana was filling him with new enthusiasm and energy. Thirteen years had been a long time to wait. At last he would have the chance to use the weapons he had obtained from the gods. He strung the Gāṇḍīva and twanged it, producing a sound of two mountains striking one another. The earth vibrated, shaking the trees, and fireballs fell from the sky. When the Kurus heard the terrific sound, they knew it was surely Arjuna with his Gāṇḍīva bow.
Arjuna took down the lion banner and meditated on Agni. A celestial banner fell from the sky adorned with gold and bearing Hanumān’s image. After walking around it reverentially, Arjuna hoisted the flag on the chariot’s flagstaff. He ordered Bhuminjaya to drive, and the chariot moved off toward the north in the direction of the Kurus. Arjuna blew his conch shell with all his strength. It emitted a thundering sound which made his horses drop to their knees. The prince, stricken with fear, fell over in the chariot.
Arjuna consoled the prince and told him to take courage. “You are a kṣatriya and the son of a great king. Why then do you tremble at this sound, losing control of the horses? Many times have you heard the sounds of battle, of mighty conches and trumpets being blown. Why are you terrified like an ordinary man?”
The prince got up and took hold of the reins. He brought the horses back to their feet and replied, “Surely I have heard many conches blown, but never one such as this. Nor have I ever heard a bow sounding like the Gāṇḍīva. This celestial banner also fills me with wonder. The monkey seems to be alive and about to leap down from the flag. My mind is simply astonished.”
Arjuna laughed. “Stand firm on the chariot and hold the reins tightly, for I will blow my conch again.”
Arjuna blew his conch and twanged his bow once more. The combined sound filled the four quarters and seemed to rend the mountains. The prince kept his position with difficulty and controlled the terrified steeds.
In the distance Droṇa heard the terrible sounds Arjuna was making. He turned to Duryodhana. “There is no doubt that Savyasācin has come to fight with us. Even more dreadful omens are now visible, portending a great calamity for the Kurus. Your army seems cheerless, as if they are weeping. All our leading warriors stand motionless, bereft of energy. A pall of gloom seems to hang over our forces. Let us make ready for battle. When Pārtha appears, you will have cause to repent your actions.”
Duryodhana scowled. He went over to Bhīṣma and said, “O grand-father, it seems that we have found the Pāṇḍavas before their exile is complete. The condition was that they should return to exile if found in their final year. If this is indeed Bhibatsu, then they will have to spend another twelve years in the forest. You should carefully calculate the time, O Bhīṣma, so that there is no doubt.”
Duryodhana looked around. In the distance he saw the dust rising from Arjuna’s chariot. The Kaurava held his bow firmly. “Whoever it is coming toward us, be it Arjuna or the Matsya king, we will have to fight today. Why then are our leading men sitting panic-stricken on their chariots? We are many and here comes but a single warrior. Our preceptor’s talk of omens and calamities is unbecoming. Our agreement with Susharma was that we would support him in the battle against Virata. We must now keep our promise. O Bhīṣma, arrange our troops for battle. I fear that Droṇa is overpowered by his affection for the enemy. How can he guide or protect us in our hour of danger?”
Karṇa had come up alongside Duryodhana. He spoke loudly so that all the leading Kurus could hear him. “It seems you have all become fearful simply upon seeing Arjuna. Do you not know that Arjuna is no match for me? After spending a long time in the forest, he will be weak in battle. Like a qualified Brahmin receiving charity, he will soon quietly receive thousands of my arrows. By killing Arjuna I will repay my debt to Duryodhana. Today I will extinguish the Pāṇḍava fire, which is kindled by the fuel of weapons and which consumes all enemies. My unfailing shafts will pierce Pārtha like serpents entering an anthill. You will see him lying on the ground like a hill covered with golden karnikara flowers. With powerful javelins I will bring down the screaming monkey from his banner and shatter his chariot to pieces. All of you may fight alongside me or, if you like, go away with the cows. I can face Arjuna alone.”
Kṛpa looked contemptuously at Karṇa. “O Radheya, your crooked mind always desires war. You do not understand things according to time, place and circumstance. Wise men only choose war when all other means have failed and when the signs are favorable. How can it be favorable for us to face Pārtha in an encounter? Alone he vanquished the Gandharvas and alone he withstood the celestial host at Khāṇḍava. Again, he alone defeated the powerful Nivātakavacas and Kalakanyas. Unaided, he fearlessly took away Subhadrā from the midst of the Yadus, exciting the wrath of the invincible Balarāma. Now he has come before us after practicing celibacy in the forest and having acquired from the gods all their divine weapons.”
Arjuna’s chariot had stopped some way off. The Kuru army arrayed itself in a pointed formation facing his direction. At the head of the army Kṛpa continued to speak, admonishing Karṇa who stood fuming on his chariot, his great bow held at the ready.
“Anyone desiring to fight alone with Arjuna is deranged,” Kṛpa said as he pulled on his gloves. “He is like a man who desires to swim the ocean with a rock tied to his neck. O Karṇa, you brag like a foolish child. You wish to take out the fangs of an infuriated serpent with your bare finger, or pass through a blazing fire after smearing your body with oil and dressing in silk. Pārtha will move through our ranks like a Yamarāja with his rod in hand. Let our army, clad in coats of mail, stand ready. Let yourself, myself, Duryodhana, Bhīṣma, Droṇa and his son all stand together. Maybe if we six are united and supported by our army, we will stand a chance, although even then I am doubtful.”
Aśvatthāmā pulled up his chariot behind his father. He had heard Karṇa’s speech and he too spoke derisively. “We have not as yet achieved anything, Karṇa. We have not taken the cows and we have not defeated the enemy. Why then do you boast? Great heroes, even after winning many battles and conquering great kingdoms, do not utter a single word of self-praise. Indeed, silence itself is the quality of the truly powerful. Fire burns silently and silently does the sun shine. The earth bears her great load of moving and non-moving creatures without a word.”
The powerful Aśvatthāmā, always galled by Karṇa’s arrogance, was especially angered by his disregard for Droṇa. Standing in his chariot with his hand on his long sword, he loudly rebuked Karṇa, echoing his father’s sentiments. “What kṣatriya on this earth could be proud of winning a kingdom by deceitful gambling like this wicked and sinful Duryodhana? In what single combat did you or he ever defeat Arjuna or any one of his brothers? In what battle did you conquer Indraprastha? In what encounter did you win Draupadī, O man of wicked deeds, so that you could drag her to the assembly when she was in her period and wearing a single cloth? You have cut the root of the sal tree that is the Kuru dynasty. Arjuna and his brothers will never forgive you for your insult to Draupadī.”
Aśvatthāmā looked across at Arjuna’s chariot, which was waiting in the distance. He remembered their time together in his father’s school. Arjuna had always been Droṇa’s favorite and that had hurt him deeply, but there was no doubting Arjuna’s martial skills. Aśvatthāmā had been forced to grudgingly admit his own inferiority. There was not a warrior on earth who could match Arjuna at bowmanship. Karṇa’s bold words would soon be shown to be little more than idle boasts.
Turning back to Karṇa, Aśvatthāmā continued. “Dhanañjaya never turns away from a fight even when faced with Gandharvas, Rākṣasas or Asuras. Whoever he turns upon is blown away as a tree is knocked over by the force of Garuḍa’s wings. Who would not praise Pārtha, who is superior to you in prowess, no less skilled a bowman than Indra, and equal even to Kṛṣṇa himself in battle? My father’s warning should be heeded. His affection for Arjuna should not be criticized, for the wise say that a disciple is the same as a son.”
Aśvatthāmā then looked at Duryodhana. “O proud man, fight with Arjuna in the same way that you defeated him at dice. Let your uncle Śakuni now show his true prowess in a real fight. The Gāṇḍīva does not cast dice, but it discharges burning arrows. Those dreadful shafts can rend the mountains and pierce the earth. The lord of death, the wind-god, or the god of fire may leave something behind, but Arjuna, worked up with anger, does not. You may challenge him if you wish, supported by the vain son of a suta--but for myself, I see no point in fighting Dhanañjaya.”
Bhīṣma had been listening to all the speeches. He was sure that it was Arjuna who had appeared before them in the guise of a eunuch. The old Kuru warrior longed to embrace him again. It was tragic that he had to face Arjuna on the battlefield. A kṣatriya’s duties were hard and painful without doubt. There was no way to avoid this fight. Arjuna would certainly not abandon his duty as a warrior. The Kurus would need all their powers united to face him in battle. Their arguments would only weaken them and make it easier for Arjuna to win.
Bhīṣma looked across at Arjuna’s chariot and said, “Droṇa’s son has spoken well, as has Kṛpa. Karṇa speaks his boasts only to incite us to perform our kṣatriya duties. No wise man would find fault with his preceptor. In my view, we must fight. Who would not be bewildered when faced with an adversary as powerful and effulgent as the sun? Karṇa’s words should only encourage us. Aśvatthāmā, forgive him. There is serious work at hand. With Kuntī’s son before us, there is no time for dissension. The wise declare that of all the dangers that face an army, the worst is disunion among the leaders. Aśvatthāmā is right. We should heed Droṇa’s warning, for Arjuna is the best of warriors.”
Duryodhana folded his palms and said to Droṇa, “O preceptor, please forgive us for doubting you and let us be peaceful among ourselves. If you are pleased, then everything can be accomplished.”
Droṇa stood in his chariot, radiant in his bright armor. “Bhīṣma’s words have pacified me. The grandfather has spoken well. We should arrange ourselves with care and protect Duryodhana. I am sure this is Arjuna, and I do not think he will be satisfied merely by recovering Virata’s cows. I am also sure that he would not have shown himself before his exile had expired. O Bhīṣma, tell us your opinion.”
Bhīṣma had already calculated the time. Like Duryodhana, he too had carefully considered the reports of Hastināpura’s spies and concluded that the Pāṇḍavas were very likely at Virata. As he looked across at Arjuna’s chariot, tears pricked his eyes. “Kuntī’s sons are not greedy and will never do anything against virtue,” he declared. “All of them are noble. With Yudhiṣṭhira at their head, there is no doubt that they will keep their word. They do not desire to win the kingdom by unfair means. Otherwise, why did they not show their prowess even at the gambling match? The Pāṇḍavas would sooner invite death than speak an untruth. By my calculation their time is complete. I therefore conclude that we will soon see all five brothers again. If Duryodhana will not restore their kingdom, then our meeting will take place on a battlefield.”
Duryodhana smoldered like a fire fed with oil. He seemed about to burst into flames. His dark eyes turned toward Bhīṣma and he spoke in a low voice. “I will not return the Pāṇḍavas’ kingdom. O Grandfather, please arrange for a battle.”
Bhīṣma was grave. “We should act with caution. I have yet to see a battle in which one side was sure to be victorious. And one party is always defeated. We now face Vijaya. I therefore suggest, O King, that you leave with half the army. Take the cows with you and I, along with the other Kuru leaders, will remain here to hold off Arjuna.”
Duryodhana agreed. Leaving Bhīṣma in charge of half the army, he left with the other half, driving the cows ahead of him. Bhīṣma stood surrounded by Droṇa, Kṛpa, Karṇa and Aśvatthāmā. He ordered them into various positions in preparation for battle. As they moved into position they saw Arjuna’s chariot approach. Hearing a sound resembling thunderclaps as Arjuna twanged his bowstring, Droṇa said, “There is no doubt that that is the Gāṇḍīva. No other bow could emit such sounds. Observe closely the banner on the chariot. There you will see a celestial monkey sending forth terrible cries. Know for certain that it is Arjuna who faces us.”
As Droṇa spoke two arrows fell from the sky and landed in his chariot at his feet. Other arrows touched the chariots of Bhīṣma and Kṛpa.
“Seeing his elders again after a long time, Pārtha is offering his respects,” Droṇa said, holding up his hand to bless Arjuna. “Pāṇḍu’s son shines on the battlefield like a well-tended sacrificial fire. Stand firm, for his next arrows will not be carrying his respects.”
1.39: The Battle at Virata
In his chariot only a half a mile from the Kurus, Arjuna instructed the prince to halt while he established the enemies’ position. Bhuminjaya gazed in amazement at the army before them. “Who are these heroes who resemble mountains in the midst of a mighty ocean?” he asked.
“The one with the emblem of a golden waterpot on his flagstaff is Droṇa,” Arjuna replied. “I always worship him. You should circumambulate his chariot and I will strike him only if he first attacks me, for such is the duty of kṣatriyas.”
Arjuna pointed to each of the leading chariots. “The hero clad in a coat of tigerskin on the chariot drawn by red horses is Kṛpa. Today I will show him how light I can be in the use of weapons. By his side, the warrior whose flag bears the sign of a bow is Aśvatthāmā. He is my preceptor’s son. Thus he too is worthy of my respect. The one clad in golden mail, whose emblem is a serpent against a gold background, is Duryodhana. He always bears the Pāṇḍavas ill will. Immediately behind him is a hero, blazing like fire, with the emblem of a strong rope for binding elephants--that is the wicked-minded Karṇa. Be careful when you approach him for he always challenges me to fight.”
Arjuna pointed toward the chariot which stood just behind the four he had already named. “This great hero, whose flag is blue and emblazoned with a golden palmyra and five stars, and who is shielded by a white umbrella, is Śantanu’s son Bhīṣma, our grandfather. Always treated with regal honor by the Kauravas, he follows Duryodhana. You should approach him last for he will never harm me.”
After observing the army for some time, Arjuna told the prince to advance. As they moved off, he saw Duryodhana detach himself from the army and move toward the south, followed by half the troops. Arjuna ordered Bhuminjaya to follow him. “I will engage with Duryodhana, for if he is overpowered, then our purpose will be accomplished.” Arjuna then sent arrows toward his three elders, who faced him on the battlefield.
Kṛpa, observing Arjuna’s chariot change direction, immediately understood his intention. “Quickly move to intercept the Pāṇḍava,” he shouted. “What will we do with the Matsyas’ vast wealth if Duryodhana were to sink like a holed boat in the Pārtha water?”
Arjuna released hundreds of thousands of arrows, and they covered the Kuru forces like a swarm of locusts. The warriors could not see anything and they became confused. Being unable even to flee, they praised Arjuna’s prowess. The earth and sky resounded with the twang of the Gāṇḍīva and the blast of Arjuna’s conch shell. Virata’s son maneuvered the chariot dexterously and cut off Duryodhana, preventing him from escaping with the cows. As Arjuna closed upon Duryodhana, the cows began to run back toward the city. Duryodhana quickly came back to the side of the other Kuru leaders.
After saving the Matsya cows, Arjuna said, “Let us leave the cowardly Duryodhana for now. He has fled for his life. I know the wretched Karṇa desires to fight with me, even as one elephant fights with another. Seek him out, O prince, and I will curb his pride. He has grown insolent due to the protection Duryodhana has afforded him.”
The prince swung the chariot around and raced into the center of the battlefield, from where he could see all the leading Kurus. Four of Duryodhana’s brothers came forward and confronted Arjuna. They sent their arrows toward him in steady waves, but Bhuminjaya avoided the falling shafts by his skillful driving. At the same time, Arjuna shot his own blazing arrows, which covered the Kaurava chariots. The Pāṇḍava, remembering Bhīma’s vow to kill all of Dhṛtarāṣṭra’s sons, avoided slaying any of them.
Other mighty warriors rushed at Arjuna, roaring and releasing showers of weapons. One, a king named Shatruntapa, assailed him with such force that he checked the movement of his chariot. Arjuna disappeared beneath a hail of arrows as Shatruntapa fought with fury. Wounded by the assault, Arjuna blazed up in anger. He drew the Gāṇḍīva back to his ear and fired five deadly arrows that killed Shatruntapa’s four horses and his charioteer. With ten more straight-flying shafts, he tore off the king’s armor along with his arms and head. Shatruntapa fell to the earth like a mountain peak struck down by a thunderbolt.
Arjuna turned toward the other Kuru fighters who were closing in on him. He seemed to be dancing in his chariot as he released his gold-plumed arrows. Long lines of shafts were seen to fly from Arjuna in all directions. As he moved among the Kuru army he appeared like a forest fire consuming dry wood at the end of summer. The battlefield presented a dreadful scene, with the mangled bodies of warriors and animals strewn about. Elephants screamed and horses whinnied in terror. The roars of the fighters and the blasts of conchshells and trumpets added to the clamor. Above all these sounds rose Hanumān’s terrible cries from Arjuna’s standard.
As Arjuna’s chariot approached Karṇa, Arjuna was attacked by Karṇa’s brother. Arjuna at once killed his horses and with a crescent-tipped arrow beheaded the warrior right in front of Karṇa. Seeing his brother fall like a palm tree cut at its root, Karṇa was infuriated. He rushed at the Pāṇḍava with a great shout. With twelve arrows he wounded both Arjuna and Bhuminjaya, as well as all of his horses. Arjuna assailed Karṇa with full force, like Garuḍa falling upon a serpent. The other Kurus, seeing an encounter about to take place between the two heroes, stood back to watch.
Arjuna sent a thick shower of arrows toward Karṇa, but Karṇa baffled the shafts with his own. He counterattacked Arjuna with thousands of arrows. With his bright armor and flashing steel arrows, Karṇa seemed like a fire sending forth showers of sparks. Seeing Karṇa holding Arjuna off, the other Kuru fighters cheered him on. They clapped their hands and blew their conches. Arjuna could not tolerate hearing such praise and he fought with redoubled strength. Both combatants sent hundreds of thousands of arrows at each other. To those watching it seemed like the sun and moon were contending behind black clouds.
Karṇa repeatedly attempted to kill Arjuna’s horses and charioteer, but the Pāṇḍava checked Karṇa’s arrows with his own every time. The two fighters fired arrows with blinding speed, their hands hardly visible as they worked their bows. Karṇa sent a non-stop stream of shafts that resembled the sun’s rays shining on the earth. Gradually, however, Arjuna gained an edge over his opponent. While checking Karṇa’s arrows he began to pierce him all over his body. With fleet arrows he wounded Karṇa in the arms, thighs, breast and head. Without his natural coat of impenetrable armor, Karṇa was hurt badly by Arjuna’s attack. Finally he turned away from the fight and fled like one elephant defeated by another.
When Karṇa retreated, the other Kurus, headed by Duryodhana, came to attack Arjuna. Without flagging, Arjuna cheerfully met their attack. He displayed various celestial weapons and filled the entire sky with arrows. No part of the battlefield occupied by the Kurus was visible as Arjuna’s arrows rained down. It was impossible to even look at the Pāṇḍava in his anger. He seemed like the fire at the end of the cosmic manifestation. As Arjuna fought like a superhuman being, he created havoc among his foes. His arrows only fell where they were aimed and his bow was always bent into a circle. The Kuru army fell back in terror, the soldiers worshipping Arjuna in their minds. Horses and elephants that were not slain ran in all directions. Smashed chariots lay everywhere, with the bodies of their drivers and warriors lying prostrate nearby.
In the sky the gods, Gandharvas, Siddhas and ṛṣis assembled to watch Arjuna fight. The fragrance of their celestial garlands spread across the battlefield as if the trees had blossomed in spring. Their clothes, ornaments and shining conveyances lit up the region with a brilliant lustre. The sky was ablaze. It was beautiful to behold. In the midst of all the celestials stood Indra, looking with affection at his son.
Arjuna looked around at the routed army and saw Droṇa. Feeling affection for his teacher he ordered Virata’s son to drive the chariot toward him. “O prince, Droṇa is always worthy of my worship. In intelligence he resembles Shukra, the guru of the demons, and in his knowledge of morality he is no less than Bṛhaspati. He has studied all the Vedas and the science of archery resides within him. He is always ornamented by forgiveness, self-control, truthfulness and compassion. I desire to fight with him, so advance with caution.”
The prince urged on the horses and Arjuna blew his conch. Droṇa saw him coming and took out his own conch, giving it a mighty blast. The conches sounded together like a thousand trumpets. Droṇa’s red horses rose up and drew his chariot quickly forward. Seeing his preceptor approach, Arjuna was joyful. Placing his bow by his side he called out, “O gentle one, we have completed our term of exile in the forest and now wish to exact our revenge. You should not be angry with us. O irrepressible hero, I will not strike you unless you attack first.”
Droṇa smiled at his favorite disciple. Without replying he raised his gold-plated bow and discharged more than twenty shafts. Arjuna instantly raised his own bow and countered his arrows with astonishing speed. Droṇa covered Arjuna’s chariot on all sides with thousands of arrows. Bhuminjaya swiftly turned the chariot and dropped away from Droṇa as Arjuna dexterously cut down his arrows. Both fighters invoked celestial weapons and spread a network of arrows that amazed the watching Kuru soldiers. Other weapons began to appear on the battlefield as the two combatants chanted mantras sacred to various deities. Firebrands and blazing discuses were hurled from Droṇa’s bow, but Arjuna struck them all down. He sent an even greater number of long-shafted arrows toward his preceptor. Droṇa, smiling all the while, cut down all those arrows in mid-flight.
The Kurus cheered again and again as they witnessed the prowess of both guru and disciple, and they wondered at the harshness of a kṣatriya’s duty that impelled the two to fight one another.
Even as he fought with Droṇa, Arjuna kept up his attack on the Kuru army. His arrows descended on them like lightning bolts. As the fierce razor-headed shafts struck horses, elephants and soldiers, they made a sound resembling a hard downpour of hailstones. The battlefield was strewn with arms still clutching weapons and heads adorned with helmets. Golden armor and pieces of shattered chariots littered the ground. The screams of terrified soldiers filled the air as Arjuna maintained his assault.
Feeling affection for his disciple, Droṇa displayed only some of his power. He held off Arjuna’s attack on himself and sent a barrage of golden-feathered arrows back at him. His shafts traveled toward Arjuna in rows, their feathers touching. Arjuna responded by releasing so many arrows that Droṇa and his chariot became invisible. Those observing Arjuna could not discern any interval between his taking up arrows, placing them on his bow, and then firing them. Even Indra, watching from the heavens, was wonderstruck. Droṇa was totally enveloped in a thick mass of arrows that fell continuously upon him. Seeing this the Kurus cried out, “Alas!”
Aśvatthāmā was infuriated and he rushed at Arjuna, bellowing out a challenge. The Pāṇḍava turned toward him and offered Droṇa a chance to retreat. Aśvatthāmā, highly-skilled in battle, sent an arrow that cut Arjuna’s ever-twanging bowstring. The deities in the sky, beholding this superhuman feat, exclaimed, “Well done! Bravo!” Aśvatthāmā succeeded in wounding Arjuna with a number of sharp-pointed shafts decked with kanka feathers.
Arjuna laughed and restrung his bow. A furious fight ensued between the disciple and the son of Droṇa, which made the hairs of the heroes who were watching stand erect. It resembled a clash between two maddened elephants. They struck one another with burning arrows that looked like serpents hissing through the air. But Aśvatthāmā’s arrows quickly became exhausted as Arjuna fought on, his own supply being inexhaustible by the fire-god’s boon.
As Aśvatthāmā withdrew from the fight, Karṇa returned and twanged his bowstring with a crash like thunder. Arjuna gazed at him with coppery-red eyes. Hoping to kill him, he fired thousands of arrows in his direction. He then called out, “O Karṇa, the time has come for you to make good your boastful words. Many times have you vainly stated that there are none to equal you in battle. Fighting with me today you will know your own strength and will never again disregard others. Without ever considering piety, you have given vent to many harsh words. Try your best to make good those insults you offered me in the assembly. You cannot defeat me. Now reap the fruit of your insult to Draupadī. Only virtue restrained me that day from exacting a terrible vengeance. Today you will feel the force of my restrained anger, held in check these last thirteen years. Fight, O sinful one, and let all the Kurus watch as you perish.”
Karṇa sneered. “Prove yourself in battle, Pārtha. The world knows that your words exceed your deeds. As a result of your weakness and inability, the Kauravas have forced you to suffer. Do not bother to make excuses. Now we will all see your power when I strike you with my irresistible weapons. Even if Indra himself came to fight on your behalf, you would not escape.”
Arjuna was derisive. “You have always fled from me and thus you still live to utter these empty words. Even today when you saw your brother slain you fled. What power were you showing then?”
Bending the Gāṇḍīva into a semicircle, Arjuna quickly fired dozens of armor-piercing arrows that shone like fire. Karṇa delightedly received those shafts with his own, intercepting every one. Again a network of arrows spread out between the two fighters. Karṇa released searing shafts with unerring accuracy and pierced Arjuna’s arms and hands. Unable to tolerate the attack, Arjuna cut Karṇa’s bowstring with a crescent-headed arrow. Karṇa replied with a number of arrows that made Arjuna lose hold of the Gāṇḍīva. Quickly regaining his composure, Arjuna sent razor-headed shafts at Karṇa which cut his bow to pieces. Karṇa took up a fresh bow and released a fierce steel arrow resembling a lance, but Arjuna struck it down even as it left Karṇa’s bow.
Five or six powerful fighters came up to support Karṇa, but Arjuna slew them all. The Pāṇḍava drew his bow back to his ear and fired four steel shafts that killed Karṇa’s horses. With another powerful arrow he struck Karṇa on the breast, making a sound like an explosion. The arrow pierced Karṇa’s armor and penetrated into his body. He lost consciousness and fell sideways in his chariot, whereupon he was quickly taken onto another chariot by his charioteer and carried away.
Arjuna and Bhuminjaya scoffed at the defeated Karṇa. Arjuna then looked around and said, “Take me to the place where you see the emblem of the golden palmyra. There stands our grandfather, Śantanu’s son, looking like an immortal. He too desires to fight with me.”
Bhuminjaya was exhausted. Gasping for breath he replied, “I do not think I can continue guiding your horses. My mind is confounded and my limbs are weak. It seems as if the four quarters are melting from the power of the celestial weapons you and the Kurus have released. I am beside myself with the sight and the smell of flesh and blood. I have never before seen such a battle. The clamor has deafened me and I feel stupefied. The twang of the Gāṇḍīva, like repeated thunderclaps, and your lightning bolt arrows have rent my heart. I am consumed by fear. It appears as if the earth is shifting before my eyes and I am losing my vitality.”
Arjuna consoled the prince. “You are a prince in the Matsya line. It is your sacred duty to face the enemy in battle. Take heart, for you will find strength in the Supreme Power. The Lord is always pleased when we perform our prescribed duties with firmness and determination. Guide the horses for only a while longer. I wish to face the grandsire in battle.”
The prince felt heartened and he urged the steeds forward. As the chariot moved across the battlefield toward Bhīṣma’s chariot, Arjuna continued, “This battle will not last much longer. The Kuru army is reeling like a wheel under the force of my weapons. I will make a river flow toward the other world, with blood for its waters, chariots for its eddies, and elephants for its aquatics. The Kuru forest, with heads, arms and tall backs for its branches, will be cut down. I have obtained all the celestial weapons from the gods. Do not fear, O prince, for I will rout the Kurus and put them to flight.”
When Arjuna got within striking distance of Bhīṣma, he sent a hail of shafts at him. Bhīṣma patiently countered his arrows and four of Duryodhana’s brothers came forward to protect him. Dushashana launched a fierce attack on Arjuna. He wounded Bhuminjaya with a large dart and pierced Arjuna’s breast with another. Arjuna at once sent golden-winged arrows, which cut Dushashana’s bow to pieces and severely wounded him in the chest. Dushashana retreated, leaving his three brothers to fight with Arjuna. Each of them were similarly injured and had to retreat.
At Bhīṣma’s command, thousands of Kuru troops surrounded Arjuna and assailed him. The Pāṇḍava spun around in his chariot with his bow constantly drawn to a circle. Sometimes he shot with his left and sometimes his right arm. Blazing arrows went in all directions and the Kuru force was torn apart. Arjuna appeared in battle like the scorching mid-day sun with its unbearable rays. Kuru heroes leapt down from their cars and fled, throwing aside their weapons. Horsemen turned and drove their horses away in terror. The Kurus retreated with difficulty, falling over the bodies of men, elephants and horses.
Duryodhana, Karṇa, Kṛpa, Droṇa and Aśvatthāmā then rushed toward Arjuna together. They covered him with so many arrows that no part of his body was visible. Even amid that onslaught Arjuna maintained his calm and invoked the Aindrastra, summoning the fire-god’s invincible power. That weapon sent hundreds of thousands of flaming arrows and darts at the Kurus and drove them back. Arjuna then saw Bhīṣma standing before him on his chariot. Gaṅgā’s son was smiling. In his shining coat of mail, he shone like a white mountain at sunrise. He lifted his gold-plated bow and fired a dozen arrows, which struck the roaring monkey on Arjuna’s banner.
Pushing aside the affection he felt for the old Kuru leader, Arjuna sent a huge dart which broke down the white umbrella over his head. He quickly followed it with arrows that severed his flagstaff and killed the two warriors protecting his flanks. Arjuna wounded Bhīṣma’s horses and brought his chariot to a halt.
Bhīṣma became angry and he began to invoke divine weapons. A massive hail of arrows, darts and spears fell blazing from the sky. Arjuna instantly checked his attack with his own celestial missiles. He counter-attacked Bhīṣma with volumes of arrows that sped toward him. Bhīṣma received Arjuna’s assault like a hill receives a cloud. He dexterously cut down all the arrows as they flew, and they fell to pieces on the ground.
The battle between Arjuna and Bhīṣma raged fiercely for some time as the Kurus watched in amazement. It seemed as if Indra were contending with Bali, the Asura king. Neither side paused in the fight. Arjuna’s Gāṇḍīva had become a circle of fire and Bhīṣma danced on his chariot like a youth.
Finally, Arjuna succeeded in baffling Bhīṣma with a weapon that sent an uncountable number of golden-winged arrows in repeated waves. Bhīṣma fell back in his chariot and, seeing his opportunity, Arjuna severed his bow with a razor-faced arrow. Immediately after that he shot ten steel shafts with heads shaped liked calves’ teeth. Those deadly arrows pierced Bhīṣma’s breast. The Kuru chief was stunned and he stood leaning on the pole of his chariot for some time. Seeing him senseless, his charioteer turned the chariot and carried him away.
Most of the Kuru army had been overpowered and, if not slain, had fled. Only a few of their heroes still stood on the battlefield. Duryodhana, burning with anger and humiliation, brought his chariot before Arjuna. He threw a golden dart that struck Arjuna on the forehead. Blood gushed from his wound and the son of Kuntī looked like a mountain giving forth a stream of red lava. Arjuna struck Duryodhana with arrows that stung like poisonous snakes. The two cousins fought furiously, using all their martial skill.
Duryodhana’s brother Vikarṇa came to support him on an elephant. He drove the beast toward Arjuna’s chariot intending to crush him underfoot, but Arjuna bent the Gāṇḍīva into a full circle and fired an iron arrow that hit the elephant on the forehead. The arrow penetrated the elephant’s head up to the feathers and the beast fell screaming to the ground. Vikarṇa leapt clear and, terrified, ran a full eight hundred paces to his brother Vivingsati’s chariot.
Arjuna released a similar arrow that struck Duryodhana full on the chest. The Kaurava prince fell to his knees and vomited blood, his shining armor bent and pierced. Seeing himself standing alone against Arjuna, Duryodhana ordered his charioteer to retreat. Arjuna laughed and called after him, “Why do you flee, O hero? How are you renouncing your fame and glory? Why are your trumpets not blown in the same way as they were when you first left Hastināpura? Know me to be Yudhiṣṭhira’s obedient servant and Kuntī’s third son. Remembering the conduct of kings, turn back and show me your face, O mighty-armed one.”
Duryodhana and his brothers continued to flee. They completely abandoned their attempts to steal the Matsyas’ wealth. Remembering his promise to the Matsya ladies, Arjuna went around the battlefield and took the costly robes from the fallen Kuru warriors.
As they made their way back to the city Arjuna said, “You are the only person who is aware of my true identity. It may be wise to keep this information secret for a little while longer. You should tell your father that it was you who routed the Kurus.”
Arjuna wanted to wait for Yudhiṣṭhira to decide the exact moment for them to reveal their identities. Understanding this, Bhuminjaya replied, “I would not have had the power to achieve what you have achieved today, O Savyasācin, but I will not disclose your identity until you give me your permission.”
Arjuna had the prince take the chariot back to the cremation ground. When they arrived, Arjuna folded his palms toward Hanumān on his banner. The monkey flew up into the sky and vanished, and Arjuna hoisted the prince’s lion banner again. He replaced his weapons in the bundle high in the sami tree. Then, taking his place as the chariot driver, they headed back toward the city.
1.40: Out of Exile
Toward noon on the day after his victory, King Virata reentered his city. Praised by bards he shone amid the four Pāṇḍavas, whose identities he still did not know. When he reached his palace and was seated upon his throne, he inquired after the whereabouts of his eldest son. Some of the palace ladies told him what had happened. “Out of excessive bravery, the prince has gone out to fight the best of the Kurus. With Bṛhannala as his charioteer and no other support, he rode out promising to defeat the vast Kuru army and bring back the cows.”
The king was at once overcome by sorrow. “How will my son fare against the likes of Bhīṣma, Droṇa, Karṇa and Duryodhana? And when the Kurus hear of the Trigartas’ defeat, they will likely attack the city. Surely we are in peril.”
The king told his ministers to have the army prepare to go out again. “We must quickly rescue Bhuminjaya and hold the Kurus off from attacking our city. With such a useless person as his charioteer, I do not think my son will be alive.”
Yudhiṣṭhira smiled as he took his place near the king. “If Bṛhannala is his charioteer, you need not fear. The Kurus will not be able to defeat him. Indeed, even the celestial hosts would not be able to overpower him with Bṛhannala on his chariot.”
The king looked at Yudhiṣṭhira quizzically. This was no time for joking. He wrung his hands and thought only of his son. Surely Bhuminjaya was already dead. It was reckless of him to have ventured out, especially with only a eunuch as his support.
As Virata gave orders for his forces to assemble, a messenger entered the court with the news that the Kurus had retreated. “The cows have been rescued and your son is well, along with his charioteer. They will soon be arriving in the city.”
“This news is not at all wonderful,” Yudhiṣṭhira said. “Victory is certain for anyone who has Bṛhannala with him.”
The king ignored Yudhiṣṭhira’s remark and said joyfully, “Decorate the highways with flags and festoons. Worship all the gods with profuse gifts of flowers and costly incenses. My other sons and my ministers should go out to greet the prince, along with musicians and beautiful dancers. Bring him here in style and have a messenger riding an elephant go around the city ringing a bell to announce our victory.”
Soon a large procession of handsomely dressed and beautiful maidens, musicians playing drums, trumpets, cymbals and conches, Brahmins chanting auspicious hymns, and bards composing songs in praise of the prince made its way out of the city.
Overjoyed, the king turned to Yudhiṣṭhira and said, “Come, Kaṅka, let us play dice while we wait for my son. I will happily stake heaps of gems, gold, and numerous well-adorned women. My pleasure knows no limits today.”
“O King, one should never gamble when he is experiencing so much joy,” Yudhiṣṭhira replied with a smile. “Gambling is attended by many evils. The great King Yudhiṣṭhira lost his entire kingdom, all his wealth, and his godlike brothers in a game of dice. Therefore, I do not like to gamble. But I will play if you wish.”
The king laughed and sat down at his dicing table with Yudhiṣṭhira. As they played he said, “What do you think of this news then, Kaṅka? My son has single-handedly defeated the invincible Kurus.”
Yudhiṣṭhira again said that it was no surprise since the prince had Bṛhannala with him. The king was beginning to feel annoyed. “Why do you praise a eunuch as superior to my son? O Brahmin, you insult me by such words. Why should my son not have defeated the Kurus? He is a fearless and powerful fighter.”
Yudhiṣṭhira threw the sapphire dice across the gaming board. “When Bhīṣma, Droṇa, Kṛpa, Duryodhana, and the other Kurus assemble for battle, I do not see any warrior who could face them except Bṛhannala. None have been seen, nor will they ever be seen, who can equal his strength of arms. He always delights in a mighty encounter.”
The king stood up suddenly, clutching the dice in fury. “You obviously do not know right from wrong. I should certainly punish you for this impropriety.”
Virata hurled the dice at Yudhiṣṭhira and struck him in the face. Blood flowed from his nose and Yudhiṣṭhira cupped his hands to catch it. He looked across at Draupadī, who sat in the court. She quickly fetched a jug of water. Yudhiṣṭhira held a wet cloth to his face to stem the flow of blood.
At that moment, a second messenger came before the king and announced that his son had arrived at the palace gates. The king, forgetting his anger, told the messenger to bring the prince in at once.
The messenger turned to go, and as he was leaving Yudhiṣṭhira whispered to him, “Have the prince come alone. Tell Bṛhannala not to enter the court.”
Yudhiṣṭhira knew that Arjuna had taken a vow that if anyone caused his blood to flow other than in battle, he would kill that person. If Arjuna saw his brother now, Virata would be slain.
Within minutes Bhuminjaya entered the court adorned with garlands and sandalwood paste. He bowed at his father’s feet and folded his hands toward Yudhiṣṭhira. Seeing him covered with blood he asked his father, “Who has done this to Kaṅka? O King, who has committed such a crime?”
The king looked angrily at Yudhiṣṭhira. “This wily Brahmin deserves even more. While I was praising your achievements, he glorified Bṛhannala as if he were your superior.”
Bhuminjaya was shocked. “You have committed a great sin! Pacify him at once so that the deadly venom of a Brahmin’s curse does not consume you.”
The king apologized to Yudhiṣṭhira, who nodded his forgiveness. Virata then said to his son, “O descendent of Kekaya, in you I truly have a son. There can be none to equal you. Alone you overcame the Kuru host and took back our cows, even as a tiger snatched his prey.”
The prince shook his head. “I did not rescue the cows, Father, nor did I defeat the Kurus. Everything was done by the son of a celestial. Seeing me fleeing in fear, that mighty one, capable of wielding the thunderbolt, stopped me and got upon my chariot. He alone defeated the Kuru army, headed by Bhīṣma, Droṇa, Duryodhana, Kṛpa, Karṇa and Aśvatthāmā. Indeed, I could hardly look at those warriors as they released their weapons. The celestial youth routed them one by one. He overpowered that army of lions and sent them reeling back to Hastināpura.”
The king was astonished. He asked his son where the youth had gone, but Bhuminjaya said he could not tell. Yudhiṣṭhira remained silent, tending the wound on his face. He glanced at Draupadī who stood smiling. The king would soon discover the truth.
It was late in the evening when Virata dismissed the royal court. He went away with his son, listening in astonishment as the prince described the battle with the Kurus.
* * *
The following day at dawn, Yudhiṣṭhira, surrounded by his brothers, entered the royal court before the king arrived. They were dressed in white clothes and adorned with gold ornaments. Like five angry lions, they strode up to the royal dais and took their seats on thrones reserved for kings.
Soon after their arrival, the king, accompanied by his ministers, entered the hall. He saw with surprise that Kaṅka was sitting near his throne with the four Pāṇḍavas next to him. Still not realizing their identities, he stormed over to Yudhiṣṭhira. “What are you doing? You are a dice player and a courtier. Why are you sitting on a royal seat, adorned with ornaments and surrounded by my cook and my horse and cow-keepers?”
Arjuna replied, “This man, O King, is worthy of sharing a seat with Indra. Ever engaged in performing sacrifice, respectful toward Brahmins, well-read in the Vedas, firm in his vows--he is the embodiment of virtue. Even the celestials, Asuras, Nāgas, Gandharvas, Yakṣas, and other divine beings are not his equal. He is far-sighted, forgiving, powerful, truthful and self-controlled. Famous all over the world and loved by all, this man is a royal saint like the great Manu himself. O King, this is the foremost of all the Kurus, the pious King Yudhiṣṭhira. Does he not deserve a royal throne?”
Virata’s eyes opened wide. Staring at the five brothers one after another, he replied, “If this is Yudhiṣṭhira, then who are these other four? Where is the mighty Bhīma and his invincible brother, Arjuna? Where are Nakula and Sahadeva and the illustrious Draupadī? Since their defeat at dice, no one has seen them.”
Arjuna lifted his hand towards Bhīma. “This one, your cook Vallabha, is Bhīma, possessed of dreadful prowess and energy. It was he who slew the lustful Kichaka. On the other side of Yudhiṣṭhira sits Nakula, the keeper of your horses, and next to him is Sahadeva, your chief cowherd. These two warriors are capable of slaying enemy battalions consisting of thousands of warriors. As far as the lotus-eyed Draupadī, she has for this last year served in your palace as Sairindhrī, for whose sake Kichaka was slain. I am Arjuna, Kuntī’s third son. We have all lived happily in your city like creatures living in the womb.”
Virata’s eyes flooded with tears. The great and virtuous Pāṇḍavas had chosen his kingdom to spend their final year of exile. Why had he not recognized them? Now it was obvious. Who else could have exhibited such power in battle but these brothers? The king folded his palms and bowed low to Yudhiṣṭhira.
As the king stood up again, Bhuminjaya indicated Arjuna. “It was he who slew the Kurus like a lion killing deer. It was he who rescued the cows and overpowered the great heroes from Hastināpura. My ears are still deafened from the incredible blasts of his conch.”
Virata felt deeply ashamed of himself for insulting and wounding Yudhiṣṭhira. He spoke humbly. “The time has come for me to honor your illustrious selves. What should I do? If you like, I shall bestow my daughter Uttarā on Arjuna. I am fully indebted to you all. It was Bhīma who rescued me from the clutches of Susharma, and Arjuna has saved us from defeat at the hands of the Kurus. O great King, please forgive me if I have unwittingly given you any offense. You are worthy of my worship.”
Virata offered his entire kingdom to Yudhiṣṭhira, with his scepter, treasury and city. He arranged for Brahmins to offer them worship and repeatedly exclaimed, “What good fortune!” The Pāṇḍavas got down and embraced the old monarch, who gazed at them without satiation. Again offering his kingdom to them, he turned to Arjuna and added, “O hero, please take my daughter’s hand.”
Arjuna placed his arm around the king’s shoulders. “Let your daughter become my daughter-in-law. That would be a fitting alliance between our two houses.”
The king looked surprised. “Why would you not accept the princess as your own wife?”
“Since I came here, your daughter has seen me like a father,” Arjuna replied. “We have often been alone together and she has often confided in me. O King, I have seen her as my daughter and do not wish anyone to think it was ever different. If I were to accept her as my wife, others will doubt her purity. I wish to prove her purity and therefore will continue to see her as my daughter. There is no difference between a daughter and a daughter-in-law. Let her wed my son Abhimanyu. He is Kṛṣṇa’s nephew and he resembles a celestial in every way. He will be a proper husband for Uttarā and a son for you.”
The king nodded approvingly. “You have spoken wisely, most virtuous one. Do what you think is proper. Whoever has a relationship with Arjuna, no matter what it may be, has all his desires fulfilled.”
Yudhiṣṭhira gave his permission for the marriage and it was settled. The king then arranged for the brothers to be quartered in his palace. He sent messengers out to announce to the Pāṇḍavas’ friends and allies that, having come out of exile, they were well and now staying in his capital. Yudhiṣṭhira invited all of them to come to the city, and before long they began to arrive. Kṛṣṇa and Balarāma came from Dwārakā, bringing Abhimanyu and many other members of Their family. Drupada arrived accompanied by a huge division of soldiers. The great king Kashiraja, a good friend of Yudhiṣṭhira whose daughter had married Bhīma, also came with another vast army.
The Pāṇḍavas duly worshiped all of them as they arrived in Virata. They were particularly joyful to see their friend and well-wisher Kṛṣṇa, who brought with him an immense force of warriors. He bowed before Yudhiṣṭhira and Bhīma, while the younger Pāṇḍavas touched his feet. Then they all embraced and sat down to exchange news.
It was settled that the marriage between Abhimanyu and Uttarā would take place on the next full-moon day, and Virata began to make the arrangements. The city was decked with flags and festoons. When the day of the wedding arrived, garlands were hung everywhere and musicians played in Virata’s palace. Many beautiful damsels, wearing jeweled earrings and headed by Draupadī, led Uttarā to the wedding sacrifice. Numerous Brahmins sat around the fire chanting auspicious hymns from the Vedas. As the Pāṇḍavas looked on with Kṛṣṇa, Balarāma and the other kings, Abhimanyu accepted Uttarā’s hand from Virata.
Surrounded by the Brahmins and kings, the bride and groom shone like a god and goddess amid the celestial hosts. Virata gave Abhimanyu a dowry of seven thousand horses, two thousand elephants and a great heap of gems and gold. The ceremony ended with a feast. Pure foods were offered to Viṣṇu and then distributed first to the Brahmins and then to the thousands of citizens who attended the wedding. Gifts and charity were distributed to all, and everyone left the ceremony filled with joy. As they departed for their homes, they praised the king as well as his daughter and new son-in-law.
* * *
With the wedding celebrations over, the Pāṇḍavas began to think of their next move. How were they going to recover their kingdom? No word had been received from Hastināpura. The Kurus now knew that the Pāṇḍavas were alive and well and living at Virata. According to the agreement made at the final gambling match, it was time to give them back their city and dominions. But it seemed the matter would not be settled peaceably. Kṛṣṇa suggested they call an assembly and discuss what to do next. Thus the day following the wedding, all the kings came to Virata’s court.
On the front seats sat Virata and Drupada, the senior most kings, along with Kṛṣṇa and Balarāma, whom everyone considered to be the greatest. By their sides sat Yudhiṣṭhira and his brothers, and all around them were dozens of other monarchs. These mighty heroes shone like stars studding the clear sky. The hall buzzed with their conversation as they settled into their places. When everyone was seated, the noise died down and they sat gazing pensively at Kṛṣṇa. Smiling gently and glancing around at all the kings, Kṛṣṇa spoke first.
“Everyone knows how Yudhiṣṭhira was unfairly defeated at dice and dispossessed of his kingdom by Suvala’s son. You also know how he and his brothers were made to live in the forest for thirteen years. The sons of Pāṇḍu, who are capable of subjugating the world by force of arms, whose chariots go unrestrained to any terrestrial or celestial region, and who are true to their word, have now completed their vow. They have suffered unbearable hardships, especially in this last year when they were obliged to accept menial service to others. They now seek their rightful kingdom.”
Kṛṣṇa looked around the assembly. All the kings, seated on golden thrones decked with gems, gazed intently at Him as He continued. “O kings, consider what is right and best for both the son of Dharma and for Duryodhana. The virtuous Yudhiṣṭhira will not accept even the kingdom of the gods unrighteously. He would prefer the rightful lordship of just a single village. Although he has been antagonized and cheated by the Kauravas, he still wishes them well. Duryodhana and his brothers have repeatedly tried to kill the Pāṇḍavas, but Yudhiṣṭhira has tolerated everything with a peaceful mind. All of his brothers are obedient to his order and would never abandon virtue. They will accept whatever he decides is right, and he will always follow My advice.”
Kṛṣṇa glanced at Yudhiṣṭhira, whose eyes were fixed affectionately on Kṛṣṇa’s face. Yudhiṣṭhira desired only to please Kṛṣṇa, and his brothers all shared that sentiment. Whatever Kṛṣṇa advised would surely be best for them. Even Bhīma, although longing to wreak vengeance on the Kauravas, would renounce his anger if Kṛṣṇa deemed it wrong. He rested a hand on his great mace as Kṛṣṇa went on.
“My feelings are that we should first establish Duryodhana’s intentions by sending a reliable messenger to Hastināpura. Let us try by all means to settle this affair peaceably and fully in accordance with the eternal codes of religion. Let us avoid unnecessary violence. But if Duryodhana will not return Yudhiṣṭhira’s lands, then I think there will have to be war. The Pāṇḍavas will slay Duryodhana and all his followers. If you feel the Pāṇḍavas’ cause is just, then unite yourselves and your forces with them and march out for battle. Tell me, O kings, if My words meet with your approval.”
Balarāma raised His hand, signifying His intention to speak. The assembly turned toward Him. His dark blue silks highlighted His pure white complexion. A brilliant helmet adorned His head and a garland of white lotuses hung around His neck. By His side lay His golden plow weapon. As He spoke, His voice resounded around the hall like a drum.
“Devakī’s son has spoken well. His words are meant for the welfare of both the Kauravas and the Pāṇḍavas. Let the Kuru kingdom be shared. The heroic sons of Kuntī will dwell in peace with their cousins, each ruling half of the Kuru empire. I agree that a man should be dispatched to Hastināpura. He should address the noble-minded Bhīṣma, Droṇa, Vidura, Kṛpa, Karṇa, Śakuni, and all of Dhṛtarāṣṭra’s sons. All of them are heroes and all of them are well-versed in the Vedas. After informing these men of Yudhiṣṭhira’s desire, the messenger should carry back their reply. But the Kauravas must be given due deference. After all, it was by Yudhiṣṭhira’s fault that the kingdom was lost. Although unskilled at dice, he accepted the skillful Śakuni’s challenge. There were many other kings with whom he could have played, but he chose the son of Suvala.”
Balarāma looked at Yudhiṣṭhira and smiled. The Pāṇḍava showed no sign of discomfort at His words. Yudhiṣṭhira had always felt guilty of a misdemeanor for having gambled away his kingdom. He bowed his head as Balarāma went on. “The brave son of Pāṇḍu unfortunately lost at every step of the game. In the grip of lust and anger, he gambled everything and was defeated. Who can blame Śakuni for this? Therefore, we must adopt a conciliatory tone when we address the Kauravas. We should avoid war by any means. That which is gained by peaceful methods is beneficial to all, while that gained by war has the opposite effect.”
Although Yudhiṣṭhira accepted Balarāma’s speech, it surprised the other Pāṇḍavas. They knew that the Yādava hero had a soft spot for Duryodhana, His disciple at mace fighting, but when He last saw them, just after their leaving Hastināpura, He had been in favor of them marching into the Kuru capital and punishing the Kauravas. It was hard to understand why His attitude had changed. Perhaps Duryodhana had influenced Him with his version of what had happened in Hastināpura. Whatever the causes, the Pāṇḍavas knew that Balarāma was always their well-wisher. They remained silent as He paused in His speech.
Suddenly Sātyaki, a powerful Yādava hero and one of Arjuna’s martial students, leapt to his feet. He was incensed by Balarāma’s words and could not hear more. Even as Balarāma continued to speak Sātyaki interrupted, and all eyes turned toward him. “A man will always reveal his inner nature when he speaks. Even as a forest contains trees which bear fruits and those which do not, so in one family are born powerful heroes and others who are powerless and cowardly. O You who bears the sign of the plow on Your banner, I am loath to call You cowardly, but why do you display such timidity toward the wicked Kauravas?”
Balarāma sat calmly, but Sātyaki’s face glowed red with fury. He gazed around the assembly as he went on. “How can anyone sit here and listen as Balarāma speaks in this way? We all know what happened in Hastināpura. Yudhiṣṭhira was cheated of his kingdom by a mean trick. Had the Kauravas gone to Indraprastha and defeated him there, then that would have been fair, but they summoned him to play in their own city and then compelled him to accept Śakuni’s challenge. How can prosperity attend such men? Why should Yudhiṣṭhira now approach them in a servile mood? The Kuru kingdom is his by right. It once belonged to his grandfather and then to his father. There is no doubt about this. Even if this pious man had no rightful claim to the kingdom, he still deserves to rule the earth by virtue of his qualities. If the Kauravas will not willingly give him back his ancestral territories, then I will force them to do so. I will persuade them by cold steel on the battlefield.”
Sātyaki stepped forward and stood on the mosaic floor in the center of the hall. He clutched the hilt of his sword as he stepped into the middle of a design depicting the blazing sun. “I will oblige the evil-minded Kauravas to fall at Yudhiṣṭhira’s feet. If they refuse, then they shall have to go with their ministers to Death’s abode. Who can withstand Sātyaki when he stands ready to fight? Can the mountains bear the thunderbolt? In the same way, who can bear the brunt of the Gāṇḍīva bow when Arjuna wields it, or the force of Bhīma’s mace? When the Pāṇḍavas are united with Drupada and his two sons, as well as with their own sons, what man valuing his life would face them? When the great Yādava heroes come out for battle, what will the Kauravas do? After killing all of them, let us install Yudhiṣṭhira as emperor of the world. It is impious and shameful to beg from enemies. We should set out at once. Either the Kauravas will surrender the kingdom, or they will lie prostrate on the battlefield.”
Having vented his anger, Sātyaki returned to his seat. Balarāma still remained peaceful. He could understand Sātyaki’s feelings. The old king Drupada then spoke. “O you with long arms, it will doubtlessly be as you say. Duryodhana will never surrender the kingdom. Dhṛtarāṣṭra is too fond of his son, and he will follow him without question. So it will be with Bhīṣma and Droṇa. They have a misguided loyalty. In my opinion, we should not act on Balarāma’s suggestion. Duryodhana will not respond to a humble approach. He will misunderstand such a mild message as weakness. Force is the only language he respects.”
Everyone present esteemed Drupada’s wisdom and maturity. They listened attentively. “This is my advice: let us prepare for battle. Send out messengers to all our allies and have them come here. Duryodhana will certainly do the same. Even now his men will be heading out and approaching even those whom we now count as friends. Our messengers should travel swiftly around the globe, for a noble man will not refuse he who first asks him for help.”
Drupada then named the kings and their countries where they could find support. He knew Duryodhana would ask everyone to fight with him, whether they were his allies or not. It was important to reach the kings first with their own plea. After listing forty or fifty monarchs who might assist their cause, Drupada concluded, “While we are assembling our forces, let a good man go to Dhṛtarāṣṭra. I suggest we send my priest. We should carefully instruct him what to say to the Kauravas. But I do not expect much to come of that. Battle is inevitable.”
Kṛṣṇa clapped His hands approvingly. “These words befit the great king of the Pañchālas, who is unequalled in prowess. You are old in learning and wisdom. Thus you are just like our guru. We should act as you say and not otherwise. I agree. But My relationship with both the Pāṇḍavas and the Kauravas is the same, regardless of the present situation among them. I have come here and been pleased by King Virata’s reception. The wedding is over and I will now return to Dwārakā. I leave it in your hands, O monarch, to guide these kings in how to sue for peace between the two parties. If a mutually agreeable solution cannot be found, and if the foolish Duryodhana will not accept peace due to his pride and ignorance, then summon Me again. I will do all in my power to help.”
The assembly of kings agreed to Kṛṣṇa’s proposal and they withdrew to their own quarters. Virata worshipped Kṛṣṇa with respect and sent Him on His way back to Dwārakā. Then he began to make preparations for war. Messengers on swift horses were dispatched around the world, and soon large armies began to arrive at Virata. Troops poured in from all quarters and set up camp around the city. Filled with men and animals, the earth seemed covered with dark clouds. The gathering troops created a clamor resembling the roaring ocean. In the Kuru capital also, vast armies were amassing to support Duryodhana. The goddess Earth, with her mountains and forests, seemed to tremble under the burden of so many warriors.
When the large force was ready at Virata, Drupada, after consulting with the other kings and the Brahmins, spoke with his priest. “O Brahmin, among all men those who are twice-born are the best. Among the twice-born the Brahmin is the best, and among Brahmins he who knows the Vedas is superior. Those who have realized Vedic knowledge are even better, and among those the best are they who practice their knowledge in life. I am of the opinion that you are the best of all men, having realized the Supreme Brahman. Your knowledge and wisdom are equal to Bṛhaspati’s. You know what kind of man Yudhiṣṭhira is and how the Kurus stole his kingdom. You also know the situation in Hastināpura, as well as the nature and disposition of Dhṛtarāṣṭra and his son. Duryodhana will not voluntarily return Yudhiṣṭhira’s kingdom. His old father, blinded by attachment, will follow his lead.”
Drupada then explained that although he should go to Hastināpura to ask Dhṛtarāṣṭra to return the Pāṇḍavas’ kingdom, there was another purpose. He knew that Duryodhana--and his father--could not be swayed by reason. The priest’s job, therefore, was to convince other Kuru leaders of the righteousness of Yudhiṣṭhira’s claim and of Duryodhana’s foolishness in bringing on war. After thirteen years of listening to Duryodhana, few among the Kurus may still recognize the truth. The cruel and dishonest treatment meted out to the Pāṇḍavas at the dice game might have been all but forgotten. Ev
en the wise and ever-virtuous Balarāma seemed to have been influenced toward the Kauravas.
“By speaking words of virtue and truth, you will win the hearts of honest men. Vidura will support you, as will Bhīṣma, Droṇa and Kṛpa. In this way, you will create dissension among the Kurus. They will lose time trying to re-establish unity among themselves, and that will allow us to make further preparations for war. It may even be that Dhṛtarāṣṭra, moved by your words, will act upon them and do what is right. In any event, we will benefit from your going there. Do not fear for yourself, as they will certainly respect you. You are a learned Brahmin and an ambassador, as well as an aged and virtuous man.”
After receiving Drupada’s request, the priest left immediately for Hastināpura.
(Continued ...)
(My humble salutations to the lotus feet of Brahmasree Krishna Dharma and Bramhasree Manmatha Dutt and I am most grateful to Swamyjis, Philosophic Scholars and Ascetic Org. for the collection of this great and wornderful Epic of the world. )
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