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The five Pandavas were moving toward Panchala at an easy pace, their mother beside them. On the road they took a priest into their company, and once inside Drupada’s city they settled in a potter’s house and lived on alms. While they waited there, the day arrived on which kings from every land gathered for the svayamvara (the ceremony at which a maiden chooses her own husband) of Drupada’s daughter Krishna. We tell you this story as it was told, in order and hiding nothing, keeping close to the voice of Vyasa.
Winning the Priest Dhaumya
On the bank of the Ganga, Arjuna had spoken with a gandharva (a being of a celestial order, held to be skilled in music and lore). Arjuna asked which Veda-knowing brahmin was fit to serve as their family priest. The gandharva answered that in these very woods lay a shrine called Utkochaka, where Dhaumya, the younger brother of Devala, was engaged in ascetic penances, and that they should appoint him their priest if they wished.
Well pleased with all that had passed, Arjuna gave the gandharva his weapon of fire with the proper rites, and told him that the horses he was giving them should stay in his keeping a while longer, to be claimed when the occasion came. Then the gandharva and the Pandavas saluted one another with respect and left the lovely bank of the Bhagirathi, each going where he wished.
The Pandavas came to Utkochaka, the sacred asylum of Dhaumya, and installed him as their priest. Dhaumya, foremost of all who knew the Vedas, received them with wild fruits and roots and consented to serve. Six in the company now, counting their mother, and holding that master of the Vedas as their priest, they felt as though their kingdom had already been regained and the daughter of the Panchala king already won at her svayamvara. With his benedictions upon them, they set out, taking him along, for the svayamvara of the princess of Panchala.
The gist: On the gandharva’s advice the Pandavas made the ascetic Dhaumya their priest, and the family of six, mother and priest together, moved on toward the svayamvara in Panchala.
Meeting the Brahmins on the Road
Those five brothers, tigers among men, set out with their mother for Panchala to see Draupadi and the festivities of her wedding. On the way they saw many brahmins traveling together. These brahmins were all celibate students, and seeing the Pandavas they asked where they were going and where they had come from.
Yudhishthira replied that they were brothers of one mother, coming from Ekachakra. The brahmins then said, “Go this very day to the abode of Drupada in the country of the Panchalas. A great svayamvara is being held there, on which a vast sum of money is being spent. We too are going, so let us all travel together.”
The brahmins told them that the illustrious Yajnasena, also called Drupada, had a daughter who had risen from the center of the sacrificial altar. Of eyes like lotus petals and features without a flaw, gifted with youth and intelligence, she was extremely beautiful, and her body gave off a fragrance like the blue lotus for two full miles around. She was the sister of the strong-armed Dhrishtadyumna, a warrior of great prowess held to be the future slayer of Drona, who had been born from the blazing fire with mail and sword and bow and arrows, like a second fire himself.
That daughter of Yajnasena, they went on, would choose a husband from among the invited princes. To the svayamvara would come, from many lands, kings and princes who performed great sacrifices, who were devoted to study, holy, illustrious, and of rigid vows, young and handsome, mighty car-warriors accomplished in arms. Wishing to win the maiden, all these would give away much wealth and cattle and food and articles of enjoyment, and the brahmins would take what was given, watch that heaven-like festival, and go where they pleased. Half in jest they added that the Pandavas were as handsome as the gods, and that Krishna might, by chance, choose one of them.
Hearing this, Yudhishthira answered that they would all go with the brahmins to see the maiden’s svayamvara.
A sub-tale: Draupadi and her brother Dhrishtadyumna were not born in the ordinary way. Insulted by Drona, Drupada had performed a sacrifice, and from the fire of that very altar the two of them came forth, which is why Draupadi is called Yajnaseni, and sometimes Panchali, and why Dhrishtadyumna was held from birth to be the appointed instrument of Drona’s death.
The gist: The brahmins they met on the road described to the Pandavas Draupadi’s extraordinary birth and the grand svayamvara, and they all traveled on to Panchala together.
Entering Panchala and Meeting Vyasa
With the brahmins the Pandavas went on toward the southern Panchalas, over which king Drupada ruled. On the way they saw the illustrious Dwaipayana, that sage of pure and sinless soul. Saluting the rishi with due respect and being saluted in return, they spoke with him, and when the talk was over they went on at his command toward Drupada’s city. Halting for a time among fine woods and by clear lakes along the way, those mighty car-warriors came at last into the country of the Panchalas.
Having seen the capital and the fort, they took their quarters in a potter’s house. Wearing the dress of brahmins, they lived on alms, and no one recognized those heroes during their stay in Drupada’s capital.
Yajnasena had always wished to bestow his daughter on Kiriti, the son of Pandu, but he had spoken of it to no one. Thinking of Arjuna, the Panchala king had a very stiff bow made that no one but Arjuna could bend. He set up a machine in the sky and hung a mark upon it, and had it proclaimed that whoever strung this bow and shot the mark above the machine with these well-made arrows would win his daughter.
With these words Drupada proclaimed the svayamvara. Hearing of it, the kings of other lands came to his capital, and many illustrious rishis came to see the event, and Duryodhana came too with the Kurus and Karna. Many fine brahmins came from every country. Whatever king arrived, Drupada received him with honor.
A key to reading this (the concept): “Svayamvara” means “the self-choosing of a groom.” It was the custom for Kshatriya maidens to choose a husband from among the assembled kings. Drupada bound the choice to a hard test of archery, so that only a warrior of true prowess could win her. In modern terms it was an open contest whose winner earned the right to be the groom.
The gist: Dressed as brahmins, the Pandavas lodged in a potter’s house and stayed unrecognized. In his heart set on Arjuna, Drupada arranged the stiff bow and the mark on a revolving machine, and kings from every land, the Kauravas, and brahmins gathered for the svayamvara.
The Arena of the Svayamvara and Draupadi’s Entrance
The citizens, eager to watch, roared like the sea as they took their seats on the platforms raised around the arena. On level, auspicious ground to the northeast of Drupada’s capital that great amphitheater had been built, ringed with beautiful mansions, guarded by high walls and a moat, with arched gateways here and there. Loud with thousands of trumpets, scented with black aloes, sprinkled with water mixed with sandal paste, and hung with garlands of flowers, it was shaded by a canopy of many colors.
All around stood mansions white and spotless as the necks of swans, tall as the cloud-kissing peaks of Kailasa, their windows screened with net-work of gold, their walls set with diamonds and costly carpets and cloths. Their fragrance carried a yojana (about eight miles) away, and each held a hundred wide doors. In those seven-storied houses lodged the kings whom Drupada had invited, adorned with every ornament, each hoping to outshine the rest. From the platforms the people of the city and the country gazed at those great-souled kings within the mansions, anointed with fragrant black aloe paste, generous, devoted to Brahma, and guardians of their realms.
The Pandavas too entered that arena and sat among the brahmins, taking in the matchless wealth of the Panchala king. The gathering, delighted by the acts of dancers and actors, swelled day by day and lasted many days. On the sixteenth day, when the festival was at its height, Drupada’s daughter, bathed clean, richly clothed and adorned with every ornament, came into the arena bearing in her hand a dish of gold with the customary offerings of Arghya and a garland of flowers.
Then a holy brahmin of the lunar line, versed in all the mantras, kindled the sacrificial fire and poured libations of clarified butter upon it with due rites. Having gratified Agni and had the brahmins pronounce the auspicious benediction, he silenced the instruments playing on every side. When that vast arena had grown perfectly still, Dhrishtadyumna, whose voice was deep as the kettledrum or the clouds, took his sister by the arm, stood in the midst of that assembly, and spoke in tones deep as thunder.
“Hear me, assembled kings. This is the bow, that is the mark, and these are the arrows. Shoot the mark through the orifice of the machine with these five sharpened arrows. Truly I say that whoever, possessed of lineage, beauty, and strength, achieves this great feat shall win today my sister Krishna for his wife.” Having spoken thus to the assembled kings, Drupada’s son turned to his sister and began to recite for her the names, the lineages, and the achievements of the lords of the earth gathered there.
A sub-tale: Among the kings Dhrishtadyumna named were Karna and, with him, Duryodhana and many other sons of Dhritarashtra; Sakuni and his brothers, the sons of the king of Gandhara; Aswatthaman, foremost of all wielders of weapons; Virata with his sons Sankha and Uttara; Salya, king of Madra, with his son; Jarasandha, Sisupala, Jayadratha, and Bhagadatta; and, of the Vrishni race, Balarama and Vasudeva Krishna the son of Rukmini, along with countless other renowned Kshatriyas. Whichever of them shot the mark, he said, Draupadi would choose for her husband.
The gist: The grand arena rang with sixteen days of festivity; then Draupadi came in with the Arghya dish and garland, and Dhrishtadyumna announced the terms of the bow and mark and recited the names and lineages of the assembled kings.
The Kings’ Attempts and the Slighting of Karna
Then those youthful princes, decked with earrings, each sure of his own skill in arms and his own strength, rose brandishing their weapons in rivalry with one another. Drunk on the pride of beauty, prowess, lineage, learning, wealth, and youth, they looked like Himalayan elephants in the season of rut. Eyeing one another with jealousy and struck by the god of desire, they sprang from their seats crying, “Krishna shall be mine.”
Overhead the gods too came on their cars. The Rudras and the Adityas came, the Vasus, the twin Aswins, and the Maruts; Kuvera and Yama walked ahead; and there came the Daityas, the Suparnas, the great Nagas, the celestial rishis, the Guhyakas and Charanas, and Viswavasu, Narada, and Parvata, and the chief gandharvas with their Apsaras. Halayudha (Balarama) and Janardana (Krishna), and the men of the Vrishni, Andhaka, and Yadava houses who followed Krishna’s lead, were also present to watch the scene.
Krishna, foremost of the Yadu heroes, saw the five Pandavas drawn toward Draupadi like great elephants toward a lake full of lotuses, or like fire hidden under ashes, and he reflected in his heart. He said to Rama (Balarama), “That is Yudhishthira; that is Bhima with Jishnu; and those are the twin heroes.” Rama, looking them over slowly, cast a glance of satisfaction back at Krishna.
Biting their lips in anger, the rest of the kings, and the sons and grandsons of kings, fixed their eyes and hearts and thoughts on Krishna and stared at Draupadi alone with wide eyes, never noticing the Pandavas. One after another the kings began to show their prowess to win that peerless beauty, but for all their might and fire they could not, even in imagination, string that bow of extraordinary stiffness.
Some of them, straining to string the bow each according to his strength, training, and skill, were flung to the ground and lay still a while. Their strength spent, their crowns and garlands shaken loose, they gasped for breath, and their hope of winning her went cold. Tossed by that unbending bow, their ornaments scattered, they began to cry out in grief.
Then Karna, foremost of all who wield the bow, went to it, quickly raised it, strung it, and laid the arrows on the string. Seeing the son of Surya, like fire or Soma or the Sun himself, ready to shoot the mark, the Pandavas already counted it as brought down. But at the sight of Karna, Draupadi said aloud, “I will not choose a Suta for my lord.” Then Karna, laughing in vexation and casting a glance at the Sun, set aside the bow he had already bent to a full circle.
When all those Kshatriyas had given up, Sisupala, king of the Chedis, tried to string the bow and fell upon his knees. Then the mighty Jarasandha stood a moment beside it, fixed as a mountain, but the bow flung him too onto his knees, and he rose and went back toward his kingdom. Then Salya, king of Madra, straining at the bow, also fell upon his knees. At last, when in that gathering of honored men every king had become a subject of laughter, Jishnu, the son of Kunti, took up the bow to string it and laid the arrows on the string.
A key to reading this (lineage): Draupadi rejected Karna by calling him a Suta. The Suta was a class held to be born of a brahmin father and a Kshatriya mother, or of mixed lineage, whose work was to drive chariots. Karna was in truth the son of Kunti, though no one knew it; he had been raised by the Suta Adhiratha and his wife Radha, which is why he was called Radheya and Sutaputra. Her words left a deep and lasting wound in Karna’s heart.
The gist: One by one the kings failed at the bow and fell; Karna strung it, but Draupadi stopped him by naming him a Suta; Sisupala, Jarasandha, and Salya also failed, and then Arjuna stepped toward the bow.
Arjuna’s Piercing of the Fish
When all the kings had given up on the bow, the great-souled Jishnu rose from among the crowd of brahmins. Seeing Partha, bright as the banner of Indra, advancing toward the bow, the leading brahmins raised a clamor, shaking their deerskins. Some were pleased, and some were not.
Some prudent brahmins said to one another that when celebrated and battle-tested Kshatriyas like Salya had failed to string the bow, how could an untrained, weak brahmin youth do it. If he could not finish a task taken up out of boyish rashness, then every brahmin present would become a laughingstock before the assembled kings, and so he ought to be stopped.
Others answered that they would not be made ridiculous, nor would they suffer anyone’s disrespect. Some said this handsome youth looked like the trunk of a great elephant, with shoulders and arms and thighs so well built, patient as the Himavat, with the gait of a lion and the prowess of an elephant in rut, and that he had the strength and resolve to see it through. There was nothing in the three worlds, they said, that brahmins could not do. They reminded one another that Rama, son of Jamadagni, had defeated all the Kshatriyas in battle, and that Agastya, by his Brahma energy, had drunk the fathomless ocean dry. So let the youth bend the bow with ease, they said, and many answered, “So be it.”
Then Arjuna stood by the bow like a mountain. Walking around it, bowing his head to the boon-giving lord Isana (Shiva) and remembering Krishna as well, he took it up. That bow which Rukma, Sunitha, Vakra, the son of Radha, Duryodhana, Salya, and many other kings skilled in arms could not string even with the utmost effort, Arjuna, the son of Indra, strung in the twinkling of an eye. Then, taking up the five arrows, he shot the mark and brought it down to the ground through the hole in the machine above which it had been set.
At once a great uproar rose in the sky, and the arena rang with a loud shout of joy. The gods showered celestial flowers on the head of Partha, the slayer of foes. Thousands of brahmins waved their upper garments in delight. On every side the defeated kings gave voice to their grief and despair. Flowers rained from the sky over the arena, and the instruments struck up together, and bards and heralds began to sing the hero’s praise in sweet tones.
Seeing Arjuna, Drupada rejoiced and resolved to aid that hero with his forces should the need arise. While the uproar was at its height, Yudhishthira, foremost of the virtuous, quickly slipped away with the twins toward their temporary lodging. Krishna came to the son of Kunti with a white robe and a garland of flowers. Arjuna, doer of feats beyond imagining, having won Draupadi by his success in the arena, was honored with reverence by all the brahmins, and soon left the lists, followed close by the woman who had thus become his wife.
The gist: Dressed as a brahmin, Arjuna bowed to Shiva, remembered Krishna, strung the bow in an instant, and shot the mark with five arrows; the gods rained flowers, Draupadi came to him with her garland, and he led her out of the assembly.
The Angered Kings and the Battle of Bhima and Arjuna
When Drupada made known his wish to give his daughter to that brahmin, the assembled kings looked at one another and were seized all at once with rage. Treating us like straw, they said, this Drupada means to give his daughter, the first of women, to a brahmin. He planted the tree and now cuts it down as it is about to bear fruit. This wretch shows us no honor; let us kill him and his son as well. The Vedic rule is well known that the svayamvara is for Kshatriyas, and a brahmin has no claim in a Kshatriya maiden’s choice of a husband. If this maiden will choose none of us, let us cast her into the fire and return to our kingdoms. As for the brahmin, though he has insulted the kings, he should not be slain, for our kingdoms, our lives, our treasuries, our sons and grandsons, and whatever wealth we have all exist for the sake of the brahmins.
Having said this to one another, the kings took up their weapons and rushed at Drupada to kill him then and there. Seeing them charge at him in anger with bows and arrows, Drupada took fright and sought the protection of the brahmins. But those mighty bowmen of the Pandavas, Bhima and Arjuna, able to chastise any foe, moved forward to meet the kings who came at them like elephants in rut.
Then the mighty Bhima, with the strength of thunder, tore up a great tree like an elephant and stripped it of its leaves. Holding that tree, Bhima stood beside Arjuna like Yama, lord of the dead, gripping his fierce mace. Seeing his brother’s feat, Jishnu marveled, and, equal to Indra himself, he cast off all fear and stood with his bow ready to receive the attackers.
Watching these feats of both brothers, Krishna, of wonderful understanding, said to Balarama that the hero with the lion’s tread, drawing the great bow four full cubits long, was surely Arjuna, past all doubt, if he himself was truly Vasudeva. The one who had torn up the tree and was suddenly ready to drive off the kings was Vrikodara (Bhima), for no one else in the world could show such prowess in battle today. And the lotus-eyed youth of fair complexion and fine nose, humble and about four cubits tall, who had left the arena a little earlier, was Dharma’s son, Yudhishthira. The two other youths, like Kartikeya, he judged to be the sons of the twin Aswins. He had heard, he said, that the sons of Pandu had escaped with their mother Pritha from the fire in the house of lac.
Then Balarama, of a complexion like rainless cloud, said with great satisfaction to his younger brother that he was glad, by sheer good fortune, to hear that their father’s sister Pritha had escaped death together with these foremost of the Kuru princes.
A key to reading this (lineage): Krishna and Balarama are sons of Vasudeva, and Vasudeva’s sister Kunti (Pritha) is the mother of the Pandavas. This is why Krishna and Balarama are the Pandavas’ cousins and Kunti their aunt. That tie of blood became the ground of the lifelong friendship between the Pandavas and the Yadavas.
The Duels of Karna and Arjuna, Shalya and Bhima
Then those fine brahmins, shaking their deerskins and their water pots made of coconut shells, cried out, “Fear not, we will fight the foe.” Smiling, Arjuna told them to stand aside and watch the fray, saying that with hundreds of straight-flying arrows he alone would hold off all those angry kings, as one holds off snakes with mantras. So saying, the mighty Arjuna took up the bow he had won as dower and stood with his brother Bhima, unmoving as a mountain.
Then Karna came forward to fight Jishnu, and Salya, king of Madra, to close with Bhima, while Duryodhana and the others skirmished lightly and carelessly with the brahmins. Seeing Karna, the son of Surya, advance on him, Arjuna drew his tough bow and pierced him with sharp arrows. Under the shock of those fierce shafts Radheya reeled, then steadied himself and fell on Arjuna with more care than before.
The two victorious warriors fought like madmen, each bent on beating the other, and moved their hands so fast that to the onlookers each vanished inside the other’s storm of arrows. “Behold the strength of my arms.” “Mark how I have parried that stroke.” Such words, understood only by warriors, they exchanged. Enraged to find the strength of Arjuna’s arms unmatched on earth, Karna fought harder still, and, cutting apart all of Arjuna’s fierce arrows, he gave a loud lion’s roar that every warrior applauded.
Then Karna said to his opponent, “Foremost of brahmins, I am pleased to see the tireless energy of your arms in battle and your weapons fit for victory. Are you the science of archery itself, or Rama the best of brahmins, or Indra, or Indra’s younger brother Vishnu in a brahmin’s guise? No one but the husband of Sachi, or Kiriti the son of Pandu, is able to fight me when I am roused in battle.”
Then Phalguna answered, “Karna, I am neither the science of arms nor Rama of superhuman power. I am only a brahmin, the foremost of all warriors and all who wield weapons. By my preceptor’s grace I have mastered the Brahma and Paurandara weapons, and I have come here to defeat you in battle, so wait a little, hero.” Hearing this, Karna, the foster son of Radha, drew back from the fight, for that great warrior judged that Brahma energy is forever invincible.
Meanwhile, on another part of the field, the mighty Salya and Vrikodara, both skilled in war and immense in strength, challenged each other and closed like two elephants in rut. They struck with fists and knees, now shoving each other forward, now dragging each other in, now throwing each other down, and the arena rang with blows hard as two masses of granite clashing.
After a few moments of this, Bhima, foremost of the Kuru heroes, lifted Salya on his arms and hurled him far, and astonished everyone by throwing him to the ground without hurting him much. When Salya had been thrown down and Karna struck with fear, the other kings grew alarmed. They surrounded Bhima and said, “Surely these are excellent warriors among brahmins. Who but Rama, or Drona, or Kiriti the son of Pandu can face Karna in battle? Who but Valadeva, or Vrikodara the son of Pandu, or the heroic Duryodhana can overthrow Salya? Let us stop this fight with the brahmins, for brahmins, however offending, must always be protected. First let us learn who they are, and then, gladly, we may fight them.”
Krishna, having seen Bhima’s feat, believed the two to be Kunti’s sons, and gently told the assembled kings that the maiden had been justly won, drawing them away from the fight. Then those kings, much amazed, returned to their kingdoms, saying that the festival had ended in the victory of the brahmins and that the princess of Panchala had become a brahmin’s bride. Surrounded by brahmins dressed in skins of deer and other wild animals, Bhima and Dhananjaya passed out of the throng with difficulty, and once free of it they looked like the full moon and the sun emerging from the clouds.
Meanwhile Kunti, seeing her sons late in returning from their round of alms, grew anxious. At times she thought Dhritarashtra’s sons had recognized and killed them; at times she feared some cunning Rakshasa had cut them down. Then, in the stillness of the late afternoon, Jishnu, with a body of brahmins, came into the potter’s house like the sun appearing from behind a cloud.
The gist: Enraged to see the maiden given to a brahmin, the kings attacked Drupada; Bhima uprooted a tree and Arjuna took up his bow; fierce duels followed between Arjuna and Karna and between Bhima and Salya, and at last, at Krishna’s word, the kings withdrew.
Kunti’s Words and Yudhishthira’s Decision
Returning to the potter’s house, the sons of Pritha came to their mother and, to her who sat in an inner room and had not seen them, presented Yajnaseni as the alms they had gathered that day. Without looking, Kunti answered, “Enjoy together what you have obtained.” The moment after, she saw Krishna and cried, “Oh, what have I said?”
Distressed by the fear of sin, and searching for a way to free everyone from the tangle, she took the cheerful Yajnaseni by the hand, came to Yudhishthira, and said that his younger brothers had presented her the daughter of king Yajnasena as alms, and that from ignorance she had said what seemed proper, “Enjoy together what has been obtained.” Now, she asked, tell me, best of the Kuru race, how my word may not become untrue, how sin may not touch the daughter of the king of Panchala, and how she may not be left uneasy.
Hearing his mother’s words, the wise Yudhishthira reflected a moment, comforted Kunti, and said to Dhananjaya, “Phalguna, Yajnaseni was won by you, so it is fitting that you should wed her. Kindle the sacred fire and take her hand with the due rites.”
At this Arjuna answered, “Do not make me a partner in sin, king. Your command does not accord with virtue; that is the path of the wicked. Marry first yourself, then Bhima of inconceivable feats, then me, then Nakula, and last of all Sahadeva. Vrikodara and I, the twins, and this maiden as well, all await your command; consider, and do what is proper, in keeping with virtue, giving of fame, and good for the king of Panchala. We are all under your rule.”
Hearing these words of Jishnu, so full of respect and love, the Pandavas looked at the princess of Panchala, and she looked back at all of them. Gazing at one another, they could think of Draupadi alone. In the hearts of those princes of measureless energy the god of desire took his place at the sight of her and began to churn all their senses, for the beauty of Panchali, fashioned by the Creator himself, surpassed that of every other woman on earth and stole the heart of every living being.
Yudhishthira, watching his younger brothers, understood what was passing in their minds, and the words of Krishna-Dwaipayana came back to him. From fear of a division among the brothers, he addressed them all and said, “The auspicious Draupadi shall be the common wife of us all.”
A sub-tale: Here the moral difficulty of the Mahabharata comes fully into view. Kunti’s words, “enjoy her together,” were spoken without thought and without a glimpse of Draupadi, yet for a family sworn to truth, to make a mother’s word false was itself a sin. At the same time, all five brothers were captivated by one woman, and Yudhishthira feared they would fall out among themselves. For one maiden to have five husbands was unusual and contested even then, and this story does not hide it; it lays the dilemma of dharma open to view.
The gist: Between Kunti’s unseeing “enjoy her together,” Arjuna’s argument for order of seniority, and the five brothers’ shared longing for Draupadi, Yudhishthira remembered Vyasa’s words and ruled that Draupadi would be the shared wife of all five.
Krishna’s Arrival and Dhrishtadyumna’s Secret Vigil
Krishna of the Vrishni race, taking the five men he had seen at the svayamvara to be the Kuru heroes, came with Balarama, the son of Rohini, to the potter’s house and there saw Ajatasatru (Yudhishthira) and his younger brothers, bright as fire, seated around him. Vasudeva touched the feet of that best of men, the prince of the Ajamida line, and said, “I am Krishna,” and Balarama did the same. The Pandavas were overjoyed to see them, and the Yadu heroes also touched the feet of their aunt Kunti.
Ajatasatru asked after Krishna’s welfare and wondered how, living in disguise as they were, he had found them out. Vasudeva answered with a smile that a fire, though covered, is still known, and that no one but the Pandavas could show such might. By good fortune, he said, they had escaped that dreadful fire, and by good fortune the wicked son of Dhritarashtra and his counselors had failed of their wish. Then, saying that some king might yet recognize them, he took his leave and hurried away from the potter’s house with Balarama.
As the Kuru heroes Bhima and Arjuna were making their way back to the potter’s house, prince Dhrishtadyumna of Panchala sent away all his attendants and followed them, hiding himself, unknown to the Pandavas, in some part of the potter’s house. In the evening Bhima, Jishnu, and the twins returned from their round of alms and gave everything to Yudhishthira. Then the kind-hearted Kunti told Draupadi to set apart a first portion for the gods and give it to the brahmins, to feed their guests and the hungry, and then to divide the rest into two halves: one for Bhima, strong as a king of elephants and a great eater, and the other half into six shares, four for the young men, one for herself, and one for Draupadi.
Hearing her mother-in-law’s careful words, the princess did just as she was told, and all the heroes ate the food Krishna had prepared. Then Sahadeva spread a bed of kusa grass on the ground, and on it the heroes laid their deerskins and lay down with their heads toward the south. Kunti lay along the line of their heads, and Krishna along the line of their feet. Though Draupadi lay on that bed of kusa grass at the feet of the sons of Pandu, as if she were their lower pillow, she felt no grief in her heart and thought no disrespect of those best of the Kurus.
Then the heroes began to talk among themselves, and the talk of those princes, each fit to lead an army, ranged over celestial cars and weapons, elephants, swords, arrows, and battle-axes, and was full of interest. The hidden prince of Panchala listened to all of it, and all who were with him saw Krishna in that state.
The gist: Krishna and Balarama came and recognized the Pandavas, and Dhrishtadyumna, in hiding, listened all night to their soldierly talk, which convinced him that these men were Kshatriyas.
Drupada’s Doubt and Dhrishtadyumna’s Report
At dawn Dhrishtadyumna hurried out from his hiding place to tell Drupada in full what had happened at the potter’s house and all he had heard from the heroes’ lips through the night. The king of Panchala had been troubled, for he did not know that the men who had taken his daughter were the Pandavas.
Drupada asked his returning son where Krishna had gone and who had taken her. Had some Sudra, he asked, or someone of mean descent, or a tribute-paying Vaisya carried off his daughter and set his foot on his head? Had this garland of flowers been thrown away on a graveyard? Or had some Kshatriya of high birth, or a brahmin, won her? He would feel no grief but great joy, he said, if his daughter had come to Partha, foremost of men. Were the sons of Vichitravirya’s son (Pandu) alive? Was it Partha who had taken up the bow and shot the mark?
Then Dhrishtadyumna, foremost of the princes of the lunar line, cheerfully told his father who had won Krishna. He said the youth with large red eyes, clad in deerskin and godlike in beauty, who had strung that great bow and brought the high-hung mark to the ground, had been surrounded by brahmins who honored him for the feat. That youth, brave and unable to bear the sight of a foe, had looked like the thunder-wielding Indra standing among the gods.
He told how, when the assembled kings could not endure the sight and rose in wrath to fight, another hero had torn up a great tree and fallen upon the crowd of kings, felling them right and left like Yama himself. The assembled kings had stood motionless, watching that pair of heroes, radiant as the sun and the moon, take Krishna with them and leave the arena for a potter’s house in the outskirts of the town. There, he said, sat a woman like a flame of fire, whom he took to be their mother, and around her three other men, each like fire.
He went on that the pair of heroes had touched that woman’s feet and told Krishna to do the same. Keeping Krishna with them, those best of men had gone out for alms, and on their return Krishna had set apart a portion for the gods, a portion for the brahmins, and a portion for the venerable lady, then divided the rest among the five and taken a little for herself, eating last of all. Then they had all lain down to sleep, Krishna at their feet. Before sleeping they had spoken in voices deep as cloud on many subjects, and their talk had been not that of a Vaisya, a Sudra, or a brahmin, but of Kshatriyas, for it was all of war.
He concluded that they had heard the sons of Kunti had escaped the fire of the house of lac, and that from the way the youth had brought the mark down, from the strength with which he had strung the bow, and from the talk he had heard among them, it was certain that these were the sons of Pritha wandering in disguise. Hearing this, Drupada was overjoyed, and he sent his priest to learn who they were and whether they were the sons of the illustrious Pandu.
The gist: Drupada was uneasy about who had carried off his daughter; Dhrishtadyumna, describing the night and their soldierly talk, showed that they were Kshatriyas, most likely the Pandavas, and Drupada sent his priest to be sure.
The Priest’s Message and Yudhishthira’s Reply
Drupada’s priest came to the Pandavas, praised them, and gave the king’s message: that Drupada, giver of boons, wished to know who they were. King Pandu, he said, had been Drupada’s dear friend, like a second self, and Drupada had long wished to give his daughter to Pandu as a daughter-in-law, and above all that strong-armed Arjuna should wed her by the rites. If this had come to pass, nothing could be more welcome to Drupada, nothing more conducive to fame and virtue.
Having said this, the priest sat and waited humbly for an answer. Seeing him seated so, Yudhishthira told Bhima, who sat near, to bring water to wash the brahmin’s feet and to offer the Arghya, for this was Drupada’s priest and worthy of more than ordinary honor. Bhima did so, and the brahmin sat at ease with a glad heart.
Then Yudhishthira said that the king of Panchala had given his daughter by fixing a special dower, as the custom of his order allowed, and not freely. This hero had won the princess by meeting that demand, and so Drupada now had nothing to ask about the race, tribe, family, or nature of the one who had done the feat; all his questions had been answered by the stringing of the bow and the shooting of the mark. It was by obeying Drupada’s own terms that this hero had won Krishna from among the assembled kings, so the king should not grieve for his daughter today, nor could anyone in the world undo the shooting of that mark.
Even as Yudhishthira was speaking, another messenger from the king of Panchala came in haste and said, “The wedding feast is ready.”
The Feast and the Test at Drupada’s Palace
The messenger said that Drupada had prepared an excellent feast for the bridegroom’s party for his daughter’s wedding, and that they should come once their daily rites were done, for Krishna’s wedding would take place there, and they should not delay; these cars, adorned with golden lotuses and drawn by fine horses, were worthy of kings, and on them they should ride to the palace of the king of Panchala.
Then those best of the Kurus, sending off the priest and setting Kunti and Krishna together on one car, mounted the splendid vehicles and went toward Drupada’s place. Meanwhile, having heard from his priest what Yudhishthira had said, Drupada, to learn the order to which these heroes belonged, had a great store of articles kept ready for the weddings of all four orders. He had fruits, sacred garlands, coats of mail, shields, carpets, cattle, seeds, and various implements of agriculture set out; the goods of other crafts, and every kind of apparatus for sport; excellent coats of mail, shining shields, keen swords, fine chariots and horses, first-class bows and well-adorned arrows, gold-ornamented missiles, darts, rockets, battle-axes, and various utensils of war, and beds and carpets and cloths of many sorts as well.
When the party reached Drupada’s abode, Kunti took Draupadi into the king’s inner apartments, where the ladies of the household welcomed the Kuru queen with glad hearts. Seeing those heroes with the sportive gait of the lion, deerskins for their upper garments, eyes like a mighty bull’s, broad shoulders, and long arms like the bodies of great snakes, the king, his ministers, his son, his friends, and his attendants were all delighted. Without any awkwardness, and in perfect fearlessness, the heroes seated themselves one after another, by the order of their ages, on excellent seats fitted with footstools.
Once they were seated, well-dressed servants, men and women, and skilled cooks brought excellent and costly dishes fit for kings on plates of gold and silver, and the heroes dined and were well pleased. After the meal, passing over everything else, they turned with interest to the various implements of war. Seeing this, Drupada’s son and Drupada himself, with his chief ministers, understood the sons of Kunti to be of royal blood and were greatly pleased.
A sub-tale: Drupada’s test was subtle. By laying out together the goods that appeal to each order, he wished to see which drew his guests. The Pandavas passed by the cattle, the seeds, the farm tools, and the objects of craft and art, and went straight to the weapons, so that their Kshatriya nature showed itself without their speaking a word.
The gist: To the priest’s message Yudhishthira answered that the shooting of the mark was proof enough; at the feast Drupada set a test of order, and by their pull toward the weapons the Pandavas’ Kshatriya nature stood revealed.
The Revelation of Identity and the Question of Many Husbands
Then the king of Panchala, in the courtesy due to brahmins, asked Yudhishthira whether they should know them as Kshatriyas, or as brahmins, or as gods in brahmins’ guise ranging the earth and come for Krishna’s sake. Tell us the truth, he said, for we have great doubt; truth becomes kings even more than sacrifices and the giving of tanks, so do not speak falsely.
Hearing this, Yudhishthira answered that the king should not be cast down, that his heart should fill with joy, for his long-cherished wish had surely been fulfilled. We are Kshatriyas, he said, the sons of the illustrious Pandu. Know me for the eldest of Kunti’s sons, and these are Bhima and Arjuna; it was they who won your daughter amid the assembled kings. The twins, Nakula and Sahadeva, and Kunti are where Krishna is. Your daughter has passed, like a lotus, only from one lake to another, and you are our revered elder and chief refuge.
At this Drupada’s eyes rolled with joy, and for some moments he could not answer Yudhishthira. Mastering his feeling with great effort, he asked how the Pandavas had escaped the burning lac-house of Varanavata, and the son of Pandu told him every detail. Hearing it all, Drupada condemned Dhritarashtra, gave Yudhishthira every assurance, and there and then vowed to set him again on his father’s throne.
Then Drupada, with his sons, came to Yudhishthira and said that the Kuru prince Arjuna should take his daughter’s hand by the rites on this auspicious day. Yudhishthira replied, “Great king, I too must marry.” Drupada said that if it pleased him, he should take his daughter’s hand himself, or give Krishna to whichever of his brothers he chose.
Yudhishthira said that his daughter would be the common wife of all of them, for so their mother had commanded. Among the sons of Pandu, he and Bhima were still unmarried; this jewel of a daughter had been won by Arjuna; and their rule was to enjoy equally whatever jewel they obtained, a rule they could not now abandon. So Krishna should take their hands one after another before the fire.
Drupada said that it was ordained that one man might have many wives, but it had never been heard that one woman might have many husbands. Son of Kunti, he said, you are pure and versed in the rules of morality; you should not do an act that is sinful and against both usage and the Vedas. Why has your understanding turned this way?
Yudhishthira answered that morality is subtle, and its course they did not know; let them follow the path trodden by the illustrious ones of old. My tongue has never spoken an untruth, he said, and my heart never turns to sin; my mother has commanded this, and my heart also approves it, so it accords with virtue, and you should accept it without doubt. Drupada said that Kunti, his son Dhrishtadyumna, and Yudhishthira himself should settle among themselves what was to be done, and tell him the result, and tomorrow he would do what was proper.
After this, while Yudhishthira, Kunti, and Dhrishtadyumna were still discussing the matter, the island-born Vyasa came there in the course of his wanderings.
The gist: Yudhishthira revealed the Pandavas’ true identity; Drupada, overjoyed, vowed to restore him to his throne, but raised his doubt by calling a marriage of five husbands contrary to usage and the Vedas, and at that very moment Vyasa arrived.
Vyasa’s Resolution and the Tale of the Five Indras
All the Pandavas, the king of Panchala, and everyone present rose and saluted the illustrious rishi Krishna Dwaipayana (Vyasa) with reverence. Returning their greeting and asking after their welfare, the rishi sat on a carpet of gold and had them all seated on costly seats. After a while Drupada asked him, in sweet accents, how one woman could become the wife of many men without being defiled by sin. Vyasa answered that this practice, being against usage and the Vedas, had fallen out of use, but that he wished first to hear the opinion of each of them.
Drupada spoke first, saying that in his opinion it was sinful, against both usage and the Vedas; nowhere had he seen many men share one wife, nor had the illustrious ones of former ages held such a custom, and the wise should never commit a sin. Then Dhrishtadyumna said that he could not see how an elder brother of good character could approach a younger brother’s wife; the ways of morality were subtle, and they did not know what was right and what was not, so he could not say that Draupadi should become the common wife of five brothers.
Then Yudhishthira said that his tongue never spoke untruth and his heart never inclined to sin, and that what his heart approved could not be sinful. He had heard in the Purana that a virtuous woman named Jatila, of Gotama’s race, had married seven rishis, and that in former times an ascetic’s daughter, born of a tree, had married ten brothers all called Prachetas, all exalted by their penances. Obedience to elders was ever meritorious, he said, and among all elders the mother was foremost; and their mother had commanded them to enjoy Draupadi as they would anything obtained as alms, and so he held it to be virtuous. Then Kunti said the matter was just as Yudhishthira had said, and that she feared greatly lest her word should become untrue, and asked how she might be saved from untruth.
When they had all spoken, Vyasa said, “How, gentle lady, shall you be saved from the consequence of untruth? This is eternal virtue. King of Panchala, I will not discuss this before them all; you alone shall hear from me how this practice was established and why it is to be held ancient and eternal. What Yudhishthira has said is beyond doubt in keeping with virtue.” Then Vyasa took Drupada by the hand and led him to a private apartment, while the Pandavas, Kunti, and Dhrishtadyumna sat waiting.
In private Vyasa told Drupada that in days of old the gods had begun a great sacrifice in the forest of Naimisha, at which Yama, the son of Vivaswat, became the slayer of the sacrificial animals. Absorbed in that work, Yama during that time killed not a single human being, and with death held back the number of human beings grew very great. Then Soma, Sakra (Indra), Varuna, Kuvera, the Sadhyas, the Rudras, the Vasus, and the twin Aswins and other gods, alarmed at the increase of mortals, went to Prajapati, the Creator, and begged for relief, saying that no distinction now remained between men and themselves, and asking to be set apart from them.
The Creator answered that the son of Vivaswat was still engaged in the sacrifice, and that this was why men were not dying; when Yama’s work at the sacrifice ended, then, strengthened by the gods’ own energies, Yama would sweep away the dwellers on earth by the thousand. Hearing this, the gods returned to the place of the sacrifice. Seated by the Bhagirathi, Indra saw a golden lotus borne along on the current and, amazed, went up along the course of the river to learn its source. Reaching the place where the goddess Ganga rises forever, he saw a woman of the splendor of fire, who had come for water and was weeping as she washed herself in the stream; her falling tears were turning, in the current, into golden lotuses.
At Indra’s question the woman led him onward, and soon Indra saw a handsome youth and a young woman seated on a throne on one of the peaks of Himavat, playing at dice. Indra told the youth that this universe was under his sway and that he was its lord. But the youth stayed absorbed in the game and paid him no heed, and Indra grew angry. That youth was Mahadeva himself; seeing Indra full of wrath, he only smiled and cast a glance at him, and at that glance Indra was fixed like a stake.
When the game was over, Isana (Shiva) told the weeping woman to bring Sakra to him, so that pride might not enter his heart again. At the woman’s touch Indra’s limbs went slack and he fell to the ground. Shiva said, “Sakra, remove that huge stone and enter the hole it discloses, where others of your own solar splendor are waiting.” When Indra had removed the stone, he saw a cave within the mountain, and in it four others just like himself. Seeing them, Indra cried out in grief, “Shall I too become like these?”
Then Shiva said in anger, “You of a hundred sacrifices, in your folly you have insulted me; enter this cave without delay.” Pained by that terrible curse, Indra trembled like a fig leaf in the wind, and with joined hands said, “Bhava, you are the overseer of the boundless universe.” Shiva smiled and said that those of Indra’s temper never won his grace; these others too had once been like him; and Indra should stay a while in the cave, for the fate of them all would be one. All of them, he said, would take birth in the world of men, and there, after achieving many hard feats and slaying a great many men, would by the merit of their deeds regain the coveted region of Indra.
Then those Indras of shorn glory said that they would go from heaven to the world of men, but asked that the gods Dharma, Vayu, Maghavat (Indra), and the twin Aswins beget them upon their would-be mother, so that, fighting with men by celestial and human weapons, they might return to the region of Indra. Hearing this, the wielder of the thunderbolt said that, rather than go himself, he would create from a portion of his own energy a man to be the fifth among them. Vishvabhuk, Bhutadhaman, Shivi of great energy, Shanti the fourth, and Tejasvin were said to be the five Indras of old. Shiva graciously granted these five Indras the boon they wished, and appointed that woman of matchless beauty, who was none other than the celestial Sri (grace and fortune), to be their common wife in the world of men.
Accompanied by those Indras, Isana went to Narayana of measureless energy, the infinite, the unborn, the eternal, and Narayana approved of it all. Then Hari (Narayana) took two hairs from his body, one white and one black, and those hairs entered the wombs of two women of the Yadu race, Devaki and Rohini; the white hair became Balarama, and the black hair was born as Kesava himself, Krishna. And those Indras of old, shut in the cave on Himavat, are the sons of Pandu, endowed with great energy, and among the Pandavas Arjuna, called also Savyasachin (able to draw the bow with either hand), is a portion of Sakra (Indra).
So it is, Vyasa went on, that those born as the Pandavas are none other than the Indras of old, and the celestial Sri who was appointed their wife is this Draupadi of extraordinary beauty, whose effulgence is like the sun or the moon and whose fragrance spreads for two miles; how else could such a woman be born but in an extraordinary way, from within the earth by virtue of the sacrificial rites? Then Vyasa granted Drupada the gift of spiritual sight, and the king saw the Pandavas in their former, celestial bodies, with golden crowns and celestial garlands, each like Indra himself, of complexions radiant as fire or the sun, five cubits tall, and Arjuna in the very form of Indra.
Vyasa told one more story, of a rishi’s daughter in a certain hermitage who, though beautiful and chaste, could not find a husband. By severe penances she pleased Shankara (Mahadeva), and he told her to ask for a boon. Again and again the maiden said, “Give me a husband endowed with every accomplishment.” Well pleased, Shankara said, “You shall have five husbands.” The maiden said again that she wished for only one husband, full of virtue. Then the god of gods said, “You have said to me five full times, ‘Give me a husband,’ and so, gentle one, it shall be; all this will come to pass in a future life of yours.”
Vyasa said that this daughter of Drupada, of celestial beauty, was that same maiden; the faultless Krishna, born of the race of Prishata, had been foreordained to become the common wife of five husbands. The celestial Sri, having undergone severe penances for the sake of the Pandavas, had taken birth as his daughter in the course of his great sacrifice; the self-created had fashioned her for just this, and so Drupada should now do as he wished.
A key to reading this (the concept): Vyasa did not call a marriage of five husbands a common custom; he himself agreed that it was against usage and the Vedas and had died out. He resolved it only through the special divine backstory of the Pandavas and Draupadi (the five Indras and the goddess Sri, and the maiden who asked five times for a husband), that is, as an exception bound by divine ordinance, not as ordinary dharma.
The gist: In private Vyasa told Drupada the earlier story of the five Indras, the goddess Sri, and the ascetic maiden who asked five times for a husband, and, showing the Pandavas’ celestial forms by spiritual sight, established the five-husband marriage as divine ordinance.
Draupadi’s Marriage to the Five Brothers
Hearing all this, Drupada said, “Great rishi, before I heard this from you I had tried to act as I told you; but now that I know it all, I cannot be indifferent to what the gods have ordained. So I resolve to do as you have said. The knot of destiny cannot be untied. Since Shankara ordained it, let him judge its right and wrong; no sin will attach to me. Let them, with glad hearts, take Krishna’s hand by the rites.”
Then Vyasa said to Yudhishthira, “Son of Pandu, today is an auspicious day; today the moon has entered the constellation Pushya. Take Krishna’s hand today, yourself first, before your brothers.” Then Yajnasena and his son made ready for the wedding, and after her bath Krishna was brought out, decked with many jewels and pearls. All the king’s friends, kinsmen, and ministers, many brahmins, and the townsfolk came to see the wedding and took their seats each according to his rank. With its yard scattered with lotuses and inlaid with diamonds and gems, Drupada’s palace shone like the sky studded with stars.
Then the Kuru heroes, youthful, adorned with earrings, in costly robes and anointed with sandal paste, having bathed and performed their daily rites, entered the wedding hall in order, with glad hearts, along with their priest Dhaumya, who shone like fire. Dhaumya, learned in the Vedas, kindled the sacred fire and poured libations of clarified butter into the blaze with the due mantras, and calling Yudhishthira, he united him with Krishna. Walking round the fire, the bridegroom and the bride took each other’s hand.
After this, those mighty car-warriors of the Kuru line took the hand of that best of women in turn, day by day, with the same priest’s help. And, king, the divine rishi told me a most wonderful thing about these marriages: that the slender-waisted princess became a maiden again each day, after each previous marriage. When the weddings were done, Drupada gave those great warriors wealth of many kinds: a hundred cars with golden standards, each drawn by four horses with golden bridles; a hundred elephants with auspicious marks on their temples and faces, like a hundred mountains with golden peaks; and a hundred young serving women adorned with costly robes and ornaments. With the fire as his witness, he gave each prince much wealth and ornaments and robes of great splendor.
With the weddings complete, and having obtained Krishna, like a second Sri, along with great wealth, the mighty Pandavas passed their days in ease and delight, like so many Indras, in the capital of the king of Panchala.
A sub-tale: The story tells plainly of the divine wonder by which Draupadi became a maiden again after each marriage. This is no invented tenderness; it is part of Vyasa’s original telling, by which this extraordinary event of five marriages is shown to be in keeping with dharma and free of blame.
The gist: On the auspicious day of the Pushya constellation Dhaumya married Draupadi before the fire, first to Yudhishthira and then in turn to the rest of the brothers; Drupada gave lavish gifts, and the Pandavas lived happily in Panchala.
Kunti’s Blessing and Krishna’s Gifts
With his alliance to the Pandavas complete, all Drupada’s fears were gone, and the king no longer stood in dread even of the gods. The ladies of Drupada’s household came to Kunti, each giving her own name, and worshipped her feet with their heads touching the ground. Krishna too, attired in red silk, the auspicious thread still on her wrists, saluted her mother-in-law with reverence and stood before her with joined palms and a contented heart.
Out of love, Pritha blessed her beautiful, well-mannered, and auspicious daughter-in-law, saying, “Be to your husbands as Sachi is to Indra, Swaha to Vibhavasu (Agni), Rohini to Soma, Damayanti to Nala, Bhadra to Vaisravana (Kuvera), Arundhati to Vasishtha, and Lakshmi to Narayana. Be the mother of long-lived and heroic children, and may every good thing be yours. Be installed as queen of the kingdom and capital of Kurujangala at the side of Yudhishthira the just; may the whole earth, won by the prowess of your mighty husbands, be given by you to the brahmins at a horse-sacrifice; and as I rejoice today to see you attired in red silk, so may I rejoice again to see you the mother of a son.”
After the Pandavas were married, Hari (Krishna) sent them gold ornaments set with pearls and lapis lazuli, costly robes made in various countries, soft blankets, valuable hides, beds, carpets, and vehicles. He sent hundreds of vessels set with gems and diamonds, thousands of serving women, beautiful and skilled, brought from many lands, well-trained elephants from the country of Madra, excellent horses in costly harness, cars drawn by fine-colored, large-toothed horses, and heaps upon heaps of pure gold coins. To please Govinda (Krishna), Yudhishthira accepted all these gifts with great joy.
The gist: Drupada was freed of fear; Kunti blessed Draupadi with the likenesses of the faithful wives of old, and Krishna sent the Pandavas vast gifts, which Yudhishthira gladly accepted.
News in Hastinapura and the Kauravas’ Counsel
The kings who had come to the svayamvara were told by their trusted spies that the beautiful Draupadi had been married to the sons of Pandu, that the hero who had bent the bow and shot the mark was Arjuna, and that the one who had thrown Salya, king of Madra, to the ground and terrified the kings by uprooting a tree was Bhima. Learning that the Pandavas had taken the guise of peaceful brahmins, the kings marveled, for they had heard that Kunti and her sons had burned to death in the house of lac. Now they thought of the Pandavas as men come back from the region of the dead, and, recalling Purochana’s cruel scheme, they cried, “Fie on Bhishma, fie on Dhritarashtra of the Kuru race!”
After the svayamvara the kings set out for their own dominions. Hearing that Draupadi had chosen Arjuna, the owner of white steeds, Duryodhana was deeply depressed, and set out with a heavy heart for his capital along with his brothers, Aswatthaman, his uncle Sakuni, Karna, and Kripa. Then Duhsasana, red with shame, said softly to his brother that had Arjuna not disguised himself as a brahmin he could never have won Draupadi, for in that disguise no one could recognize him as Dhananjaya; fate was supreme, and their exertions had come to nothing, and the Pandavas were still alive. Blaming Purochana’s carelessness, they entered Hastinapura with cheerless, sorrowful hearts. Recalling the sons of Pritha, escaped from the burning lac-house and now allied with Drupada, and thinking of Dhrishtadyumna, Sikhandin, and Drupada’s other sons skilled in war, they were filled with fear and despair.
Then Vidura, learning that Draupadi had been won by the Pandavas and that Dhritarashtra’s sons had come home in shame, was filled with joy, and going to Dhritarashtra he said that the Kurus were prospering by good luck. Hearing this, the blind son of Vichitravirya supposed with delight that his eldest son Duryodhana had been chosen by Drupada’s daughter, and at once ordered ornaments to be made for Draupadi and both Draupadi and Duryodhana to be brought with great pomp to Hastinapura.
Then Vidura told the king that Draupadi had chosen the Pandavas for her husbands, that those heroes were alive and well, that Drupada had honored them greatly, and that they had allied themselves with Drupada’s many powerful kinsmen and friends and with many others who had come to the svayamvara. Hearing this, Dhritarashtra said that those boys were as dear to him as Pandu, more so; the sons of Pandu were well and had gained many friends, and what king, in fortune or misfortune, would not wish for a kinsman like Drupada as an ally? At this Vidura said, “King, may your understanding stay unchanged for a hundred years,” and returned to his home.
Then Duryodhana and Karna, the son of Radha, came to Dhritarashtra and said that they had been unable to speak before Vidura, but now, finding him alone, would say what they wished. What is this you have done, they asked, praising the Pandavas before Vidura as though our foes’ prosperity were your own? You should not have done so. Father, from now on we must act each day to weaken the Pandavas; the time has come to take counsel together, lest the Pandavas, with their sons, friends, and kinsmen, swallow us all.
A key to reading this (moral complexity): Here the story does not flatten its characters. Before Vidura, Dhritarashtra praises the Pandavas, yet in private he listens to Duryodhana and Karna; his affection and his weakness appear side by side. Duryodhana’s fear is political, and Karna’s part is woven in from the start. No clean line between good and evil is drawn here.
The gist: Word spread that the Pandavas were alive and strong; Vidura rejoiced, Dhritarashtra showed mixed feelings, and Duryodhana and Karna began in private to plot the weakening of the Pandavas, planting the seed of the conflict to come.
Source: the Mahabharata of Krishna Dwaipayana Vyasa, Adi Parva; in the Gita Press, Gorakhpur tradition.
Based on the Mahabharata of Vedavyasa (Gita Press, Gorakhpur)