MAHA-BHARATA

The setting of the Epic is the ancient kingdom of the Kurus, which thrived along the upper reaches of the Ganges River. The historical event that the Epic is based on is a significant war that occurred between the Kurus and a neighboring tribe, the Panchalas, around the thirteenth or fourteenth century BC.

According to the Epic, Pandu and Dhrita-rashtra, who was born blind, were brothers. Pandu died young, and Dhrita-rashtra became the king of the Kurus, raising the five sons of Pandu alongside his hundred sons.

Yudhishthir, the oldest son of Pandu, was a man of truth and righteousness; Bhima, the second son, was a strong fighter; and Arjun, the third son, stood out among all the other princes in combat. The two youngest brothers, Nakula and Sahadeva, were twins. Duryodhan, the eldest son of Dhrita-rashtra, was envious of his cousins, the sons of Pandu. A tournament took place, and during the event, a warrior named Karna, whose origins were unknown, emerged and proved to be a formidable rival to Arjun. The rivalry between Arjun and Karna is the central theme of the Epic, much like the rivalry between Achilles and Hector is the central theme of the Iliad.

It’s important to note that the sons of Pandu and Karna were, like the heroes in Homer’s tales, born from the gods. Each had divine inspiration at their birth. Yudhishthir was the son of Dharma, or Virtue; Bhima was the son of Vayu, or Wind; Arjun was the son of Indra, the Rain-god; the twin youngest were the sons of the Aswin twins; and Karna was the son of Surya, the Sun, but he and everyone else believed he was the son of an ordinary chariot-driver.

The part translated in this Book makes up Sections 134 to 137 of Book I of the original Epic in Sanskrit (Calcutta edition of 1834).

Angry sons of Dhritarashtra, born from the royal Kuru lineage!
Noble sons of Pandu, god-given men of divine grace!

Skill in battle was gained by these princes from a brave Brahman warrior,
Drona, a respected priest and proud teacher, unmatched leader of the past!

Out spoke Drona to the king in Hastina's royal hall,
Spoke to Bhishma and to Kripa, spoke to all the lords and courtiers:

“Check out the brave princes, king, skilled in battle and the art of war,
Let them show their skills and bravery, control the horse and throw the spear.”

Answered then the ancient king, his royal heart was filled with joy,
“Best of Brahmans and warriors, you have truly done well!”

Name the location and set the date, host a grand tournament,
Share the rules of battle widely, announce your king's approval far and wide.

Sightless roll these eyes, noonday light is dark to me,
Happier people will watch the tournament and the unmatched princes’ battle.

Let the good and wise Vidura carry out your orders,
Let a father's pride and joy fill this old and gloomy heart.”

Then the good and wise Vidura, dedicated to his duties,
Drona, skilled and knowledgeable, marked out the tournament ground,

Clear of jungle was the meadow, by a crystal fountain graced,
Drona on the illuminated altar holy gifts and offerings placed,

The star was blessed, and the hour was peaceful and bright,
People from faraway towns and villages came to witness the sacred ceremony.

Then there stood grand white mansions, designed by renowned architects,
Adorned with insignia for Kuru's king and for every royal lady,

And the people set up their stages around the lush green area,
And the nobles with their white tents added elegance to the lively and festive atmosphere.

Brightly dawned the festive morning, and the king left his hall,
Bhishma and the righteous Kripa with the lords and courtiers all,

And they arrived at the mansions, bright and shiny, wrapped in gold,
Adorned with gems and luxurious baidurya, and decorated with strings of pearls.

Fair Gandhari, queen of Kuru, Pritha, Pandu's widowed wife,
Ladies in their stunning outfits, beautiful maids of renown and grace,

Mounted on their shining mansions where the colors blend beautifully,
As, on Meru's golden mountain, the queens of the heavenly gods rise up!

And the people of the city, Brahmins, Vaishyas, Kshatriyas bold,
Men from the fields and workshops gathered in large numbers, young and old,

And the sound of trumpets rose along with the crowd's shout,
Like the voice of an angry ocean, struck by a storm, powerful and loud!

Came the holy Drona in his white robes, with a white sacrificial thread,
White was the mark from his sandals and the garlands, and his hair was also white.

With his son famous for bravery, Drona walked forward, shining brightly,
Just like the Moon walks in the clear sky, joined by Mars!

Offerings to the immortal gods were made by the priestly warrior,
Brahmins paid homage and worship with their chanted mantra,

And the cheerful sound of sankha blended with the trumpet's call,
Crowds of warriors, armed in different ways, gathered on the battlefield.

Gauntleted and jewel-bedecked, now the warrior princes arrived,
With their elegant bows and quivers and their swords like wreaths of fire,

Each followed his elder, with good Yudhishthir leading the way,
Each showing off their amazing skills, captivating the quiet crowds.

And the men, filled with admiration, looked at them happily,
Or, suddenly terrified, bent down to let the arrow loose!

Mounted on their fast horses, the princes often showed off their skills,
Racing, they hit the target with arrows marked with their royal name,

With their shining weapons catching the sunlight, the youths looked magnificent and elevated,
The princes seemed more than human, like gandharvas from the heavens!

Shouts of joy the people let out as if driven by a sudden impulse,
The combined voices of tens of thousands hit the ringing vault of heaven!

Still the princes brandished their weapons, drove the loud, echoing chariot,
Or mounted on horses or elephants, engaged in the glorious pretend battle!

Mighty sword and large shield, heavy mace the princes use,
Brightly shine their lightning swords as they roam the tournament field,

Bold and fearless is their action, and their movement swift and light,
Skilled and precise the thrust and parry of their weapons shining bright!

Bhima arrived, and proud Duryodhan, with their maces raised high,
Like two cliffs with tall towers cutting through the blue sky!

In their battle gear, with their belts tightened, they stood,
Like two wild jungle elephants in the deep and echoing forest!

And just like elephants roam the forest, they roam the wide-open fields,
Wandering from side to side and swinging their heavy tusks!

To Kuru's blind king, the wise Vidura described the scene,
Pritha proudly spoke of the princes to the Kuru queen.

While the strong Bhima fought against the brave and powerful Duryodhan,
Furious with anger, the chaotic crowd shouted wildly for one side or the other,

“Hail to Kuru prince Duryodhan!” “Hail to proud hero Bhima!”
Shouts like these from countless crowds surged up in a deep and loud uproar.

And with a troubled gaze, Drona watched the restless, heaving plain,
Noticed the crowd shaken by anger, like a storm-tossed sea,

To his son, Drona quickly whispered to calm the chaos,
Separate the armed and furious wrestlers, tell them to stop the deadly fight,

With their raised clubs, the princes slowly retreated when they were signaled,
Like the parting of the waves, powerful, heaving, and driven by the storm!

Came forth then the ancient Drona on the open battlefield,
Stopped the drum and loud trumpet, spoke in a voice like thunder’s roar:

“Tell him to come, the brave Arjun! Devout prince and skilled warrior,
Arjun, born of powerful Indra, and filled with Vishnu's strength.”

Gauntleted and jewel-belted, with his tall bow,
Archer Arjun, devoted to the gods, carried out a ritual,

Then he stepped forward, proud and majestic in his golden armor,
Like the evening cloud lit by the sun, adorned with a golden rainbow!

And a joyful excitement spread among the people all around the open field,
The sound of drums and the blare of trumpets rose with the festive tune of the sankha!

“Mark! the brave son of Pandu, whom the joyful Pritha bore,
Mark! the heir of Indra’s strength, unmatched in his skills and knowledge,

Mark! the young and brave warrior, unmatched in his fighting skills,
Mark! the noble-hearted, godly leader, adorned with elegance and diverse charms!”

Pritha heard such thankful voices rising up to the sky,
Her heart was filled with love, and a tear of joy filled her eye!

And where Kuru's king was resting, cheerful sounds caught his attention,
And he turned to the wise Vidura, wanting to know what was going on:

“Why, like the sound of the ocean when the storm winds blow,
Do the voices of the people rise up and challenge the vast skies?”

Answered him the wise Vidura, “It’s Pritha’s brave son,
Godlike, moving in golden armor, and the people cheer with joy!”

“I'm pleased,” said the king, “and I bless my lucky fate,
Pritha's sons, like the fires of yajna, purify this great State!”

Now the voices of the people faded away and everything was quiet,
Arjun demonstrated his strength and unmatched skill to his proud teacher.

Towering high or bending low, on the ground or in his chariot,
With his bow and shining arrows, Arjun fought the pretend battle,

Targets across the vast field, whether big and tough or small and amazing,
With his shining arrows, without fail, Arjun hit them all!

Wild boars made of solid iron raced across the vast field,
In its jaws were five shining arrows shot by the incredibly skilled archer,

Cow-horn hanging by a thread swung back and forth in the unrelenting wind,
He aimed twenty-one precise arrows at this moving target.

And with equal skill, the godlike Arjun wielded his rapier,
Spinning around the battle mace as he moved across the vast tournament field!

Now the battles are over, and the final hour approaches,
Music's voice is quieted in silence, and departing crowds walk by,

Listen! Like thunder that shakes the sky brings a loud and deadly sound,
The clash and noise of battle gear erupts across the campgrounds!

Are the solid mountains cracking, is the earth breaking apart,
Is it the storm's loud roar from which the lightning springs to life?

Thoughts like these scare the people because the sound is terrifying and loud,
The crowd turns to the arena gate with an anxious gaze!

Gathered around their teacher Drona, Pandu's sons in shiny armor,
Like the five-starred constellation around the glowing Queen of Night,

Gathered around the proud Duryodhan, feared for his achievements,
All his brave and warrior brothers and his teacher Drona's son,

So the gods surrounded Indra, the fierce and fearless wielder of thunder,
When he drove away Danu's children in the foggy days of the past!

Pale, before the unknown warrior, gathered nations split in two,
Conqueror of enemy cities, tall Karna strides across the land!

In his shiny gold armor and his golden rings,
Like a towering cliff, the brave leader approaches!

Pritha, still unmarried, gave birth to him, the unmatched archer on earth,
A fragment of the sun's brilliance, for the Sun inspired his arrival!

Like an angry elephant, like an irate lion,
Like the sun at its brightest, like a raging fire!

Lion-like in build and muscle, majestic as a golden palm,
Gifted with every true manly virtue, unmatched warrior proud and composed!

With a calm look, the chief surveyed the battlefield,
Barely paying respect or acknowledgment to Kripa or Drona!

Still the terrified people stared at him without blinking,
"Who could this unknown warrior be?" they wondered in quiet astonishment!

Then in a voice like booming thunder spoke fair Pritha's eldest son
To Arjun, Pritha's youngest, each, unfortunately! to each unknown!

“All your feats with weapons, Arjun, done with empty and pointless bragging,
These and even greater I achieve—let this mighty crowd bear witness!”

Therefore, spoke the proud and unmatched Karna in his deep and loud voice,
And as if driven by a sudden urge, the listening crowd jumped for joy!

And a spark of powerful ambition shines in proud Duryodhan's heart,
Flames of rage and envy ignite in Arjun's eyes!

Drona gave the command, and Karna, Pritha's battle-loving son,
With his sword and arrows accomplished the feats that Arjun did!

Joyful was the proud Duryodhan, happiness shone on his face,
And he spoke to brave Karna with a warm and loving hug:

“Welcome, mighty armed chief! You've earned the honors of victory!
All my wealth and kingdom are yours; just say what you want and it will be yours!”

Answered Karna to Duryodhan, “Prince! Your word is as good as your action,
But I want to fight Arjun and win the victor's reward!”

“Noble is the gift you seek,” replied Kuru's famous prince,
“Be a joy to your friends, let your enemies fear your name!”

Anger burned within Arjun, and he spoke in harsh tones
To Karna, who stood calmly, proudly, and fearlessly in triumph:

“Chief! who comes uninvited, bragging with your false claims,
You will die the death of boastful ones—let this mighty crowd be your witness!”

Karna replied calmly and with pride, “Open this field to everyone,
Warriors enter by their skill, don’t wait, Arjun, for your call!”

Warlike leaders step forward based on their strength and power,
And their claim is their sword; bravery legitimizes their right!

Angry words are a coward's weapon, Arjun; speak with sharp arrows,
Until I bring you down, with Drona as our witness, on the battlefield grass!”

Drona called upon the fair but fierce Arjun, feared by enemies,
Separated from his beloved brothers, he stood up, his shiny arms ready.

Karna held the Kuru princes close, saying goodbye to each one,
With his bow and full quiver, the proud warrior walked on.

Now the dark clouds, with bright flashes, gathered thick and high,
Lines of cranes, like bursts of laughter, flew across the gloomy sky.

Rain god Indra watched over Arjun with a father’s biased affection,
Sun god Surya illuminated Karna from high above.

Arjun stood in the growing shadow, hidden by the dark clouds,
While bold and bright in the shining sunlight, Karna stood revealed!

Proud Duryodhan and his brothers stood by Karna, calm and confident,
Drona stood by the valiant Arjun, and brave Bhishma, the seasoned warrior,

Women also cast fleeting looks at one or another leader,
But with equal love dividing, quiet Pritha fainted in sorrow!

Wise Vidura, committed to his responsibilities, rushed in with urgency,
Sandalwood drops and sprinkled water stirred the sorrowful woman.

And she saw her sons in battle, and she didn’t say a word of sorrow,
Overcome with grief, because no one could understand that Karna was her oldest son!

Crested Karna, armored Arjun, confidently walked across the vast green,
Kripa, expert in herald's tasks, spoke about the terrifying scene:

“This is Arjun, the helmet-wearing warrior from the great Kuru lineage,
Pandu's son, raised by Pritha, a prince of value and martial skill,

Long-armed Chief! Tell us your family background, and the heritage you represent,
Name your mother and father, and the home where you were born,

According to the rules of war, Prince Arjun argues that his rival chief should understand,
Princes shouldn't draw their weapons against a lowly and unknown enemy!

Karna listened quietly to this order, but he couldn't reveal his birth,
Like a lotus drooping under a rainstorm, he lowered his head in shame!

“Prince, we think,” shouted Duryodhan, “it's not just about being born into it,
Warlike leader of his forces, as a prince and chief, we recognize!”

Karna, with his warrior strength, is on par with crowned kings,
Karna will be crowned king, and nations will heed his command!”

Forth they brought the corn and treasure, golden coins and a water jar,
On the throne they seated Karna, renowned for his many brutal battles,

Brahmans chanted sacred mantra as instructed by the holy books,
And anointed Karna as the ruler, king of Anga's beautiful land,

And they raised the red umbrella, and they waved the chowri fan,
“Blessings on the crowned monarch! Honor to the bravest man!”

Now that the sacred rituals were completed, dressed in his royal attire,
Karna sincerely prayed to Prince Duryodhan with grateful words:

“Gift of the kingdom, good Duryodhan, speaks well of your noble heart,
What can grateful Karna humbly offer in return?”

“Give me your friendship,” shouted Duryodhan, “for I ask for no other favor,
Be Duryodhan's closest friend, be his loyal and courageous ally!”

“Alright then!” replied Karna, with proud and noble elegance,
And he confirmed his loyal friendship with a warm and affectionate embrace!

Wet with sweat and exhaustion, look! a chariot driver appeared,
His thin clothes hung loosely, and a staff supported his body,

Karna, now a crowned king, to the humble charioteer,
Lowered his head, still wet with water, as if to a beloved parent!

With his thin fabric, the driver tried to cover his dusty feet,
And he greeted the brave Karna as his son and as his pride,

And he held crowned Karna's noble head close to his chest,
And on Karna's wet forehead, fresh and loving tears fell!

Is he the son of a chariot driver? Doubts filled Bhima's mind,
And he tried to bring Karna down with harsh, hurtful words:

“Will you, noble hero, mark yourself with a Kuru brand?
But the tool of cattle drivers is a better fit for your hand, my friend!

Will you, as a crowned ruler, govern the well-being of a great nation?
Just like jackals in the jungle steal sacrificial offerings!

Karna's lips trembled with anger, but he said nothing in response,
Instead, a deep sigh came from his chest, and he looked up at the sun!

Like a noble elephant emerging from a beautiful lotus lake,
Rose Duryodhan above his brothers, proudly spoke to Bhima:

“With such insults, don’t try to upset a warrior, Bhima.
Bitter taunts don’t suit you, brave chief with the strength of a tiger!”

Proudest leader can battle the humblest, for like a river's noble flow,
Great actions reveal the warrior, and we don't doubt where they come from!

Teacher Drona, both a priest and a warrior, comes from a humble background,
Kripa, the most noble of the Gautamas, rises from the earth below!

I know your lineage, Bhima, yours and your four brothers,
Loving gods inspired your birth, or so they say, in ancient times!

Mark the great and brave Karna adorned with rings and beautiful weapons,
A she-deer does not raise noble tigers in her humble and simple home!

Karna comes to rule the vast earth, not just the fair lands of Anga,
By his bravery and his weapons, by the respect that I acknowledge!

And if a prince or armed leader disagrees with my words or actions,
Let him grab his bow and quiver, and meet me in a fierce battle!”

Loud applause welcomes the challenge and the joyful cheers of the crowd,
But the deepening shadows of darkness cover the land and the evening sky,

And the flickering light of the red lamp illuminated the surrounding field,
Gradually, the unmatched Karna and the proud Duryodhan departed the area.

Pandu's sons, along with the battle-ready Drona, noted the gloomy end of the day,
And quietly made their way home with Kripa and Bhishma.

“Arjun is the brave champion!” “Valiant Karna has taken the victory!”
“Prince Duryodhan is the winner!” So say the people.

By some secret sign, Pritha recognized her brave son,
Saw him crowned king of Anga, filled with a mother's hidden joy,

And with even more joy, Duryodhan secured Karna at his side,
No longer afraid of Arjun's strength, Arjun's skill in battle, and his pride,

Even Yudhishthir considered Karna the mightiest warrior on earth,
He somewhat doubted Arjun's abilities, Arjun's skill, and his value in battle!

The jealousy between the princes grew stronger each day, and when Yudhishthir, the oldest of all the princes and the first son of the late Pandu, was acknowledged as the heir apparent, Duryodhan and his brothers were filled with rage. They devised a sinister plan to kill the sons of Pandu.

The sons of Pandu, along with their mother, were persuaded to visit a far-off town named Varanavata. A house had been built there for them to stay in, made from easily flammable materials. When the time came, the house was set on fire; however, the five brothers and their mother escaped the blaze through a hidden underground passage, fled into the forests, and lived disguised as Brahmans.

In time, they learned about the upcoming celebrations for the marriage of the princess of Panchala, an old kingdom near what is now Kanouj. All the kings of Northern India were invited, and the bride would choose her husband from among the gathered kings following the traditional Swayamvara custom. The five sons of Pandu decided to attend and see the ceremony.

The part translated in this Book includes Sections 184 to 139 of Book I of the original text.

Now the righteous sons of Pandu, wandering from day to day,
Made their way joyfully to the land of South Panchala,

For when traveling with their mother, it so happened by the will of fate,
They encountered devout Brahmins heading to South Panchala's region,

And the pure and holy Brahmins welcomed the young men of noble reputation,
Asked them where they were headed, and from what faraway place they had come.

“From the land of Ekachakra,” good Yudhishthir replied,
“With our ancient mother traveling to distant lands, we go.”

“Did you not hear,” the Brahmins asked, “in the beautiful land of Panchala,
King Drupad, kind and generous ruler, is hosting a grand feast?

To that festive land we travel, bringing Drupad's generous gifts to share,
And to witness the swayamvara of Panchala's beautiful princess,—

Human mother never bore her, human bosom never fed,
From the Altar sprang the maiden who some noble prince will marry!

Soft are her eyes like lotus petals, sweet is her delicate jasmine form,
And a maiden's pure honor fills her gentle soul!

And her brother, armed and ready with his bow and arrows,
Shining like a blazing altar, jumped out of the Sacrificial Fire!

Fair, the sister with a slim waist, blessed with beauty that’s rich and rare,
And like the scent of a blue lotus, she fills the sweetened air!

She will pick from noble suitors gathered from the west and east,
The wedding will be bright and beautiful, and the feast will be lavish and plentiful!

Kings will arrive from faraway lands, bringing riches and gold,
Noble rulers skilled in sastra, kind-hearted, and strong in spirit,

Good-looking young men and noble princes from every nearby and distant land,
Chariot-driving leaders who are bold and skilled, courageous and strong!

And to win the unmatched princess, they will spread out rare gifts,
Food and dairy cows, treasures and jewels, gold and nice clothes.

Noble gifts we accept as Brahmans, bless the ceremony with cheerful hearts,
Share the feast so rich and plentiful, then leave with happy minds.

Actors, mimes, and talented singers will crowd Panchala's court,
Famous storytellers of puranas, skilled dancers, and strong wrestlers,

Join us, the wedding guest, and enjoy the lavish feast,
Happy with gifts and fine treasures as you head back to your home.

You are blessed with royal beauty, like the shining gods above,
Even you can make the favored princess give her heart and love!

And this young man, tall and strong, with powerful arms, brave and bold,
He can excel in acts of bravery and gain a lot of wealth and gold!”

“Alright,” Yudhishthir replied, “let's head to Panchala,
To witness the princess's wedding and share in the royal gifts.”

So the righteous sons of Pandu, along with the Brahmans, made their way,
To South Panchala's kingdom, where the mighty Drupad ruled.

Now the pure and virtuous rishi, immortal poet of eternal song,
Messenger of the sacred Vedas, Vyasa stood in their path!

And the princes bowed to him and received his kind blessings,
By his command, they went to Panchala with happy and joyful thoughts!

Jungle woods and silver waters lined their woodland path,
Stopping at each roadside station, the princes marched day by day,

Stainless and focused on sastra, honest in speech and pure of heart,
Traveling slowly, they arrived in Panchala, observing its large town and marketplace,

Saw the fort, marketplace, and city, saw the spire and shining dome,
In a potter's distant cottage made their simple, unknown home,

And disguised as holy Brahmans, the sons of Pandu asked for their food,
People didn’t recognize Kuru's princes in that humble and simple home.

To the armored son of Pandu, Arjun, pride of Kuru's lineage,
Drupad wished to offer his daughter, unmatched in her youthful beauty,

And Drupad crafted a huge, unyielding bow out of solid wood,
Knowing that neither Arjun nor any prince would lower the weapon.

And he created a spinning disc, hung it under the open sky,
And above the spinning disc, he set a target high up.

“Whoever can string this bow,” said Drupad, “will hit the target with pride
By throwing the high and spinning discus, they'll win Panchala's royal bride!”

And they proclaimed the king's order in the lands nearby and far away,
And from every town and region, princes and military leaders came,

Came the pure and saintly rishis to bless the holy ceremony,
Came the Kurus with brave Karna, full of pride and unmatched strength,

Brahmans traveled from faraway places, bringing with them their revered knowledge,
Drupad warmly welcomed each esteemed guest with royal hospitality.

Now the festive day is approaching! Gathering men with the voice of the ocean,
Filled the wide and circling stages to witness the maiden's choice,

Royal guests and noble suitors arrived in a show of wealth and pride,
Car-driving leaders and armored warriors came to seek the beautiful bride!

North-east of the lively city, they surrounded a flat area,
Where many skilled builders erected impressive domes and grand palaces around.

And surrounded by a moat and wall, accessed through a gate and arched door,
A canopy of splendor covered the red field!

Now the festive trumpets played, and the scent from the censer filled the air,
Sprinkled chandan spread its coolness, and wreaths of the sweetest fragrance were hung,

All around were swan-white mansions, tall domes and high turrets,
Like the peaks of white Kailasa cutting through the blue sky!

Sparkling gems lit up the chambers, and golden nets adorned the windows,
Wide and lofty stairs were beautifully covered with elegant carpets,

Rich decorations and elegant garlands gently waved like cheerful streamers,
And the swan-like silver houses shimmered in the daylight,

Gates below were crowded with people, far above the chambers lay,
With their tall, gold-tipped turrets like the peaks of the Himalayas!

In these halls filled with pride and grandeur lived each wealthy and noble guest,
Driven by friendly rivalry, and adorned in expensive jewels,

Decked out and scented, these rulers sat—strongly armed, famous,
Lion kings, noble by fate, leaders of a pure and spotless name,

Devoted to the great Brahma, and the hope and support of their people,
Adored by all for their noble deeds, kind and virtuous in their rule.

Now the festive day is approaching! Like the rising of the ocean,
The ranks of gathered nations surge over the wide and open plain,

Pandu's sons, disguised as Brahmins, mingle with knowledgeable Brahmins,
Admiring proud Drupad's riches and grandeur, watching and marveling endlessly,

Dancers enchant the crowd, singers perform, and actors act,
Fifteen days of celebration welcome the audience, vibrant and lively.

Sound the drum and shout the sankha! The bridal day is here at last,
Fresh from her morning cleanse, the bride appears in her beautiful outfit!

And her golden wedding crown rests on her elegant arm,
Gently, beautifully, walks Draupadi, queen of all allure!

Then a Brahman skilled in mantra, an ancient priest of the lunar lineage,
Lights the Fire, seeking its blessings and grace through pious offerings,

Whispered words of blessing are repeated by saints and holy men,
The conch and trumpet's sound is quiet, the high war-drum's beat is muted,

And there is a serious silence, and in grand style and pride,
Drupad's son brings out his sister, the beautiful bride of Panchala!

In his loud and powerful voice, like the sound of distant thunder,
Drupad's son announces his father's wishes to everyone around:

“Pay attention to this bow, gathered rulers, and the target raised high,
Through that spinning pierced disc, let five shiny arrows fly!

Whoever is born of noble lineage and hits the far-off target,
Let him stand and claim Drupad's beautiful maiden as his reward!”

Then he turns to Draupadi, naming each prince and suitor,
Describing his race and noble heritage, along with his famous warrior feats.

“Brave Duryodhan and his brothers, princes of Kuruland,
Karna, the proud and unmatched archer, sister! seeks your noble hand,

And Gandhara's fierce princes, Bhoja's brave and noble king,
And Drona's powerful son, all adorned in jewels and gold!

King and prince from the Matsya kingdom are honoring this noble wedding feast,
Rulers from farther regions to the north, south, west, and east,

Tamralipta and Kalinga by the eastern ocean wave,
Pattan's port whose fearless children face the western ocean's dangers!

From the faraway land of Madra, the chariot-driving king Salya arrived,
And from the coastal areas of Dwarka, the famous Valadeva came,

Valadeva and his brother Krishna came from Yadu's lineage,
From the Vrishni clan, embodying truth and righteousness!

This is the powerful Jayadratha from the shores of Sindhu,
Known for his impressive martial skills and also for his sacred knowledge,

This is the fair king of Kosala, whose great deeds our messengers celebrate,
From the strong land of Chedi, the unmatched king Sisupala,

This is strong Jarasandha, coming from the distant land of Magadha,
These are other noble suitors, sister! eager for your hand!

All the powerful leaders of the world aim to hit the distant mark,
Princess, whoever strikes the target, choose that famous prince for yourself!”

Decked out in jewels, young and brave, burning with gentle desire,
Aware of their value and courage, all the suitors stood up in anger,

Nobly born, of majestic stature, full of youthful, relentless pride,
Like the powerful wild elephants on the wooded slopes of the Himalayas!

Each rival sees the other as an enemy on the battlefield,
Each considers the beautiful Draupadi his own queenly wife,

On the beautiful field, they come together with an intense passion,
And they struggle just like the shining gods did when inspired by Uma's love!

And the gods in their cloud-driven chariots came to see the beautiful scene,
Bright Adityas in their glory, Maruts in the flowing air,

Winged suparnas, scaly nagas, deva-rishis pure and exalted,
For their famous music, gandharvas, beautiful apsaras of the sky!

Valadeva, equipped with a plowshare, and Krishna, known for his righteousness,
Along with the other Yadu leaders, arrived at that amazing wedding.

Krishna saw the sons of Pandu longing for the royal bride,
Like wild elephants after a lotus, like the fire hidden by ashes,

And he recognized the warrior brothers in their sacred Brahman attire,
He directed them to Valadeva, who looked on with joyful astonishment!

But the other chiefs and rulers, watching the bride,
Did not see or recognize the sons of Pandu sitting silently beside them,

And the long-armed sons of Pandu, struck by Kandarpa dart,
Gazed at her with longing desire and with hearts full of passionate love!

Bright immortals joyfully gathered to admire the incredibly beautiful scene,
Heavenly flowers softly falling filled the air with their fragrance,

Bright celestial chariots glided across the clear sky,
Drum, flute, harp, and drumbeat echoed low and echoed high!

Uprose one by one the suitors, still keeping their eyes on the distant goal,
Powerful kings, brave princes, leaders of proud and fierce renown,

Decked out in a golden crown and necklace, fueled by pride and love,
The eager suitors boldly aimed for the prize above,

Tried to string the weapon in vain, for the bow was tough and stiff,
Slightly bent and quickly springing back, it brought down the brave princes!

The handsome suitors tried in vain, adorned with jewels and shiny gold,
Without their crowns and necklaces, every chief and brave warrior fell,

Deprived of their golden crown and garland, shamed and humbled in their pride,
the suitors groaned in their anguish, no longer seeking Panchala's bride!

Uprose Karna, the unmatched archer, the proudest of all archers,
And he went and strung his bow, prepared the arrows confidently,

Stood like Surya in his glory and like Fire in his fire,—
Pandu's sons in fear murmured, Karna surely must hit the target!

But in proud and regal tones, Drupad's noble daughter declared:
“Princess, born into the Kshatriya class, I will not marry the son of a Suta!”

Karna listened with a flushed forehead, left the almost completed task,
Abandoned the bow he'd already drawn, silently stared at the Sun!

Uprose Chedi's proud king, the strongest of all kings,
Other kings had fallen in disgrace, but Sisupala stepped forward boldly,

Steadfast in heart and determined in aim, he drew the strong, unyielding bow,
Not successfully! for the bow snapped back and brought the proud king down!

Uprose sturdy Jarasandha, far Magadha's mighty chief,
Held the bow and stood undaunted, tall and stately as a cliff,

But once again the bow snapped back, and the king fell in his shame,
He quickly left Panchala's palaces for the place he originally came from!

Uprose Salya, king of Madra, with his incredible skill and strength,
Stumbling, he dropped to his knees, falling in a disappointing and shameful manner,

So every king stumbled and fell, cheerful whispers spread,
And the sound of suppressed laughter echoed across the lively scene!

Hushed the cheerful sound of laughter, silenced each suitor in his shame,
Arjun, godlike son of Pritha, emerged from the ranks of Brahmans,

Guised as a calm and holy priest, as beautiful as Indra's bright rainbow,
All the Brahmans shook their deerskins, cheering him in their hearts' joy!

Some people, filled with worry, heard the sound of joyful celebration
And their minds were oddly uneasy, as quiet whispers expressed their fear:

“Wondrous bow that neither Sisupala nor mighty Salya could pull,
Jarasandha, known for his strength, tried to bend the string but failed,”

Can a Brahman, weak by nature and untrained in warfare,
Handle the bow that crowned kings and long-armed leaders have not managed?

Sure, the Brahman boy in his foolishness dares to take a reckless action,
Will shame be the reward for the Brahman among this crowd of kings?

Youth, filled with pride or craziness, will take on a foolish venture.
Wiser men should curb his recklessness and protect the Brahman's honor!

“It's a shame he won't bring us,” other Brahmans responded,
“Instead, in this crowd of kings, great fame and high honor,

Like a strong and majestic elephant, like the towering peak of the Himalayas,
Stands unshaken the young Brahman, broad-shouldered, deep in chest,

His walk is like a lion, agile, and confident in his demeanor,
Trust me, he can accomplish great things if he has the courage to try!

He will accomplish the brave deed, will not bring shame or disgrace,
And there is no task on this entire earth that a Brahman attempts in vain,

Holy men live on wild fruits, strong in their penance,
Thin in body, but stronger in spirit than the mightiest army!

Ask not if it's right or foolish when a Brahman takes a risk,
If it results in misfortune or success, a fatal mistake or great fortune,

Son of sage Jamadagni amazed kings and leaders alike,
And Agastya, the pure sage, dried up the endless ocean,

Let this young and bold Brahman take on the challenging task,
Let him give it a try and, with his skill, earn the noble reward of victory!

While the Brahmans' deep hopes and timid fears were expressed,
The young Arjun stood unmoved like a mountain peak,

Silent around the amazing weapon, the powerful warrior walked three times,
To the Lord of Gods, Isana, in a quiet prayer he knelt!

Then the bow that gathered warriors struggled to bend and strain,
And the rulers of the vast earth tried to string and use it in vain,

Godlike Arjun, born from Indra, filled with Vishnu's unmatched power,
Bowed the incredible bow of Drupad, set the gleaming arrows perfectly.

Through the disc, the glowing arrows zip by with a weird, hissing sound,
They hit and pierce the far-off target, bringing it crashing to the ground!

Shouts of joy and loud applause celebrated the great achievement,
Heavenly flowers gently fell, and heavenly music filled the air,

And the Brahmins shook their deerskins, but each annoyed chief
In a quiet, muttered whisper expressed his growing anger and sorrow,

Sankha's message and the sound of the trumpet celebrate Arjun's great achievements,
Poets and announcers sing his praises in a proud and timeless song!

Drupad in the Brahmin's cloak knew the proud and brave hero,
'Against the fury of frustrated suitors, he aimed to rescue the gallant prince,

With his twin-born youngest brothers gone, Yudhishthir remained peaceful and good,
Bhima sensed the approaching storm and stood alongside the brave Arjun!

Like a queen, the beautiful maiden smiled at the brave archer,
Tossed the bridal garland to him and gave him the bridal robe,

Arjun, with his skill and strength, won the princess of Panchala as his bride,
Cheers from the people and blessings from the Brahmins echoed joyfully everywhere!

The suitors spoke, shaken with anger, like a forest caught in a storm,
As the courteous king of Panchala came to welcome a Brahmin.

“Will he, like the wild grass, trample us down with arrogant pride,
To marry the proud and unmatched bride to a chattering priest and Brahmin?"

To our hopes like well-fed saplings, he will now deny the fruit,
Proud monarch who disrespects other monarchs will surely die a traitor's death,

Honor for his rank we don't know, have no mercy for his age,
Perish enemy of crowned rulers, victim of our righteous anger!

Has he invited us to his palace, blessed us with royal favor,
Feasted us with generous hospitality, only to bring about our downfall,

In this gathering of powerful kings, radiant like a celestial group,
Does he find no suitable match for his beautiful daughter's hand?

And this ceremony of swayamvara, as our sacred rules dictate,
Is for the warrior Kshatras only; priests should not be involved in this tradition.

If this woman looks at a Brahman without any shame,
She should atone for her foolishness in a fire of blazing flame!

Leave the little priest in his foolishness, caught up in a Brahman's greed,
For we don't wage war with Brahmans and forgive a silly act,

Much we owe to holy Brahmins for our realm, wealth, and life,
The blood of a priest or wise teacher shall not tarnish our noble struggle,

In the blood of sinful Drupad, we uphold the righteous laws,
Such shame in future generations monarchs shall not face again!”

The suitors spoke, fierce and strong, with hearts like tigers and hands of iron.
Driven fiercely by a desire for blood and revenge, the crazed crowd surged forward.

On they came, the furious kings, ready for brutal revenge,
Drupad, surrounded by the holy Brahmans, fled in fear for his life,

Like wild elephants in the jungle, the kings charged at their enemies,
Calm and dignified, strong Bhima and the brave Arjun stood up!

With a wilder rage, the kings saw these brothers in their way,
Rushed at the daring warriors to kill them in their fury,

Weaponless was noble Bhima, but in strength like lightning’s flash,
He tore a tree apart with unmatched skill, shaking it like a powerful wand!

And the enemy-conquering warrior grasped that mace made of living wood,
As strong as death with a lethal weapon, he faced all his enemies.

Arjun, with incredible bravery, stood steady, holding his bow,
Next to him, the fearless brothers confronted the intense and aggressive group!

Krishna recognized the sons of Pandu, dressed in Brahmin robes,
And shared his inner thoughts with his elder, Valadeva:

“Look at that young guy with a bow and arrow and a confident stride like a lion,
He is Arjun, the helmet-wearing hero! the greatest warrior among the greatest,

Mark his companion, with the tree uprooted, how he encounters the group of suitors,
Except for the tiger-waisted Bhima, no one can boast such strength!

And the young man with lotus-like eyes, who left the court not long ago,
He is the virtuous Yudhishthir, a man without sin or deceit,

And the others are Yudhishthir, the sons of Pandu, who were born as twins,
With these sons, the virtuous Pritha escaped where death and danger were present,

For the jealous and fierce Duryodhan plotted their death by fire,
But the righteous sons of Pandu escaped his unyielding anger!

Krishna stood up among the kings, trying to calm the chaos,
And spoke to the furious suitors with words of just peace,

Monarchs followed Krishna's command, departed from Panchala's vibrant land,
Arjun took the beautiful princess, gently guiding her by the hand.

A strange event happened after Draupadi's marriage. The five sons of Pandu brought her back to the potter's house, where they were living off donations as per Brahman customs, and the brothers told their mother they had received an incredible gift that day. “Share the gift together,” their mother replied, unaware of what it was. And since a mother's command cannot be ignored, Draupadi became the shared wife of the five brothers.

The true significance of this strange legend is unclear. The practice of brothers marrying the same wife still exists today in Tibet and among the hill tribes of the Himalayas, but it never took hold among the Aryan Hindus of India. Their laws and institutions clearly forbid it, and there's no approval for it in their literature, either ancient or modern. The legend in the Maha-bharata about brothers sharing a wife is unique and has no equivalent in Hindu traditions and literature.

Judging by the main events of the Epic, Draupadi might be seen as the wife of the oldest brother, Yudhishthir. Bhima had already married a woman in the forest, and she bore him a son, Ghatotkacha, who later proved himself in battle. Arjun also married Krishna's sister shortly after Draupadi's wedding, and they had a son, Abhimanyu, who was one of the heroes in the war. On the other hand, Yudhishthir took no other wife except for Draupadi, and she was crowned with Yudhishthir during the Rajasuya or Imperial Sacrifice. Therefore, despite the legend, Draupadi can be seen as married to Yudhishthir, though she was won through Arjun's skill, and this view aligns with Hindu customs and laws, both ancient and modern.

The jealous Duryodhan heard that his plan to kill his cousins at Varanavata had failed. He also learned that they had gained a powerful ally in Drupad and formed an alliance with him. It was no longer possible to deny them their rightful inheritance. The Kuru kingdom was therefore divided; Duryodhan kept the eastern and wealthier part with its ancient capital Hastina-pura by the Ganges, while the sons of Pandu were given the western part by the Jumna, which was then a forest and wilderness. The sons of Pandu cleared the forest and built a new capital, Indra-prastha, the supposed ruins of which, near modern Delhi, are still pointed out to curious travelers.

Yudhishthir, the eldest of the five sons of Pandu and now king of Indra-prastha, decided to perform the Rajasuya sacrifice, which was a formal way of claiming the Imperial title over all the kings of ancient India. His brothers went out with troops in all directions to announce his supremacy over the surrounding kings. Jarasandha, the powerful and somewhat uncivilized king of Magadha or South Behar, opposed him and was killed; however, other kings acknowledged Yudhishthir's supremacy and came to the sacrifice with offerings. King Dhrita-rashtra and his sons, who were now ruling at Hastina-pura, were politely invited to participate in the sacrifice.

The part translated in this Book includes Sections xxxiii to xxxvi and Section xliv of Book ii of the original.

Ancient halls of proud Hastina reflected vividly on Ganga's waves!
There came the son of Pandu, young Nakula, strong and brave,

Came to ask Hastina's king, leader of Kuru's royal family,
To join Yudhishthir's feast and his ritual to honor.

Dhritarashtra happily approached the city of Indraprastha,
Noticed its newly built tower and turret looming over the blue Yamuna,

With him came teacher Kripa, and the old Bhishma came,
Elders of the Kuru clan, famous chiefs and Brahmans.

Monarchs traveled from faraway lands to join in the sacred ceremony,
Bold leaders from palaces and fortresses, dressed in their shining armor,

Kshatras arrived with a generous offering for the sacred sacrifice,
Valuable gems and expensive jewels, gold and gifts of immense worth.

Proud Duryodhan and his brothers approached in a friendly and honorable way,
Along with the ancient Kuru king and the wise and good Vidura,

With his son came brave Suvala from the faraway land of Gandhara,
Car-riding Salya, unmatched Karna, arrived with bow, spear, and sword.

Came the priest and proud teacher Drona, skilled in weapons and knowledge,
Jayadratha, known for his bravery, arrived from the shores of the Sindhu.

Drupad arrived with brave princes from the famous land of Panchala,
and Salwa, the lord of distant territories, joined the grand assembly.

Bhagadatta arrived in his chariot from the land of brave nations,
Prag-jyotisha, where the red sun rises over the Brahmaputra's waves,

With him came unrefined mlechchas who live by the ocean,
Rugged leaders of dark-skinned tribes from the lands where hills rise,

Came Virata, the king of Matsya, along with his brave sons,
Sisupala, the king of Chedi, with his son adorned in gold.

Came the fierce leaders of Vrishni from the shores of the Western Sea,
And the lords of Madhya-desa, always ready for battle, always free!

Jumna's dark and clear waters washed against Yudhishthir's palace walls
And to greet him Dharma-raja, kings crowded into his royal halls,

He honored kings and chieftains with a royal grace, assigning
Palaces with sparkling waters and shady trees lined,

Honored like this, the powerful kings lived in bright white mansions,
Like the famous peaks of Kailasa rising proudly with their snowy heights!

Graceful walls that surrounded the meadows wrapped around the royal halls,
Golden nets decorated the windows, and gems adorned the shining walls,

Flights of stairs led up to rooms adorned with colorful carpets,
And hanging fragrant garlands were beautifully intertwined!

Far below the wide entrances, the people's rallying shout rose up,
And in the distance, the swan-white mansions caught the captivated onlooker's eye,

Richly adorned with precious metals, the turrets shone brightly and vividly,
Like the gleaming towers of the high Himalayas.

And the scene decorated by wise sages and by priests and powerful kings,
Glowed like a bright blue sky, enhanced by immortal Sons of Light!

Spoke Yudhishthir to Bhishma, elder of the Kuru clan,
To Drona, proud teacher, full of knowledge and martial skill,

Spoke to the wise teacher Kripa, skilled in the ancient sacred rituals,
To Duryodhan and his brothers, respected guests and brave family members:

“Friends and family, please grant your support and lend your kind affection,
May your kindness always be there to help poor Yudhishthir's ceremony,

As your own, take my treasure, expensive gifts and untold riches,
To the poor and the deserving, freely share my gems and gold!”

Speaking this way, he dedicated himself, and focused on sacred work,
Assigning different tasks to his friends and relatives:

Proud Duhsasan laid out a lavish and extravagant feast,
Drona's son respectfully welcomed the sage and the holy priest,

Sanjay warmly welcomed the powerful king and chief,
Bhishma and the righteous Drona observed the sacrificial ceremony,

Kripa protected wealth and treasure, gold and precious gems,
And with gifts to the Brahmins consecrated the sacrifice,

Dhritarashtra, old and blind, wandered through the scene of joy,
With a careful hand, Vidura covered all the great expenses.

Proud Duryodhan accepted the tribute from the leaders and kings,
Pious Krishna gave respect and honor to the Brahmins.

It was a beautiful and amazing gathering on the sacred banks of the Jumna,
where every eager king brought a thousand nishkas as tribute,

Expensive gifts announced the respect of every powerful warrior prince,
Leaders competed with competing leaders to support the sacred ceremony.

Bright Immortals, dressed in sunlight, glided through the sky,
And their shining cloud-based chariots settled on the high towers!

Heroic kings and revered Brahmans filled the halls adorned in gold,
Priests in white robes skilled in mantra mixed with the brave chieftains.

And in the midst of this beautiful scene, kind-hearted, pure, and good,
Like the sinless god Varuna, gentle-souled Yudhishthir stood,

Six bright fires Yudhishthir lit, offerings made to the gods above,
Gifts to the poor and humble spoke of the king's limitless love.

Hungry men were fed and enjoyed a generous meal of rice,
Expensive gifts for holy Brahmans honored the noble sacrifice,

Ida, ajya, homa offerings pleased the “Shining Ones” above,
Brahmins, happy with valuable gifts, showered their blessings from the sky!

Dawned the day of abhisheka, proud anointment, sacred bath,
Crowned kings and knowledgeable Brahmans gathered along Yudhishthir's path,

And as gods and heavenly rishis gather in Brahma's shining mansions,
Holy priests and noble kings adorned the inner sacred space!

Measureless is their fame and virtue, great is their penance and their power,
And in deep and learned conversations, Brahmans spent the radiant hour,

And on important and sacred topics, often conflicted in their ideas,
Different wise figures shared various and diverse teachings.

Weaker arguments appeared more convincing, while flawless arguments often failed;
Sharp debaters, like falcons, attacked the opinions their opponents believed!

Some were knowledgeable about the Laws of Duty, some took the Holy Vows,
Some, with commentary and interpretation, still challenged his learned rival,

Bright is the gathering of the Brahmins devoted to sacred learning,
Like the gathering of shining stars in the beautiful sky above,

None of the unclean caste or behavior trespassed on the holy site,
None of the unclean life and practices stained Yudhishthir's sacred ritual!

Deva-rishi, the holy Narad, observed the sacrifice,
Blessing Yudhishthir's royal power with its brilliance,

And a beam of divine insight illuminated the sage's inner vision,
As he observed the assembled kings in the grand gathering, proud and elevated!

He had heard from divine voices in the bright heavenly dwellings,
All these kings were gods in human form, pieces of Heavenly Light,

And he saw in them living beings from the heavens,
And in lotus-eyed Krishna he saw the Highest of the High!

Saw the ancient Narayana, the original cause of creation,
Who had appointed the gods as rulers to maintain his just laws,

Fight for the cause of what’s right, die in a brutal war,
Then to find their higher homes in the bright realms far away!

“Narayana, the Preserver of the Universe, sent immortal gods to Earth,
He himself took on a mortal form in the Yadu lineage,

Like the moon among the planets born in Vrishni's noble clan,—
He whom bright gods worship,—Narayana, Son of Man,

Primal Cause and Self-created! When his great purpose is fulfilled,
Narayana guides the Immortals to their home in the sky.”

Such bright flashes of the Secret appeared in his mind,
As Narad contemplated the ritual in deep thought.

Outspoken Bhishma said to Yudhishthir: “King of this vast land,
Our sacred law commands that respect is due to crowned kings,

Arghya to the wise teacher, to the relative and to the priest,
To the friend and to the scholar, to the king as the host of the feast,

To these individuals is owed the arghya, as our sacred texts state,
So, to these kings gathered should the utmost respect be given,

Noble are these crowned monarchs, shining like the midday sun,
To the noblest, first in virtue, let the greatest honor be given!”

“Who is the noblest,” said Yudhishthir, “in this galaxy of fame,
Who among leaders and crowned kings claims our highest honor?”

Pondering, the ancient Bhishma spoke in his deep and clear voice:
“Greatest among the great is Krishna! The best of men, unmatched by anyone!

Amid these kings, shining in their brilliance, pure-hearted and the most exalted,
Krishna stands out like the bright sun among the planets in the sky,

Sunless places become green with the sun's returning light,
Windless expanses come to life when refreshing breezes blow,

Even so this rajasuya, this sacrificial rite of yours,
Owes its holiness and magnificence to Krishna's divine power!”

Bhishma spoke, and Sahadeva carried out his orders as fast as thought,
And the arghya nicely seasoned was brought to the incomparable Krishna,

Krishna learned the principles of virtue, then took the offered arghya,
Darkening Sisupala's forehead, making his body tremble.

To Yudhishthir and to Bhishma, the chief directs his fiery gaze,
To the revered and esteemed Krishna, Sisupala angrily shouts.

“Not to Vrishni's uncrowned hero should this respect be given,
Among these powerful crowned kings dressed in their royal splendor,

Ill befits the noble Yudhishthir, the rightful son of King Pandu,
Respect for an unclaimed leader, to the humble honor given!

Pandu's sons are still untrained, and their knowledge is not yet refined,
Knowing that Bhishma, filled with wisdom, has broken the rules of the court,

Learned in the laws of duty, he has sinned out of biased love,
His conscious violation of the rules of honor stirs our deeper hatred!

In this crowd of crowned monarchs, ruling kings of noble repute,
Can this uncrowned Vrishni leader truly claim the highest rank and honor?

Does he, as a wise elder, demand the respect shown to him?
Surely his father Vasudeva has his claims before his son!

Does he, as Yudhishthir's relative, rank as the best?
Royal Drupad, by alliance, could certainly challenge that claim!

Does he, as a wise teacher, claim the highest, foremost position,
When the great teacher Drona visits his royal residence?

Should the top position be given to Krishna as a rishi?
Saint Vyasa takes the honor, the Vedic poet inspired by Heaven!

Should we honor Krishna for his warrior reputation?
You, O Bhishma! Death's Conqueror, certainly deserve the first place!

Should we give the Nobel Prize to Krishna for his knowledge?
Drona's son, unmatched in learning, could definitely compete!

Great Duryodhan stands alone among the princes, unmatched,
Kripa, the priest of the royal Kurus, the holiest of all priests, is here!

Archer Karna—there's no braver archer of mortal birth—
Karna learned his skills from Rama, the one who defeated the kings of the earth!

So why then do we offer this tribute to the unknown Krishna for free!
He’s neither a holy priest, nor a wise teacher, king, nor a top leader!

Tiger-hearted Sisupala spoke in anger, strong and loud,
Calmly, Krishna answered him, but there was a spark in his eye:

“Listen, chiefs and just rulers! from a daughter of our people
Evil-fated Sisupala traces his noble ancestry,

In spite of the wrongs and frequent outrage, despite the insults often thrown,
Krishna has never, in his heart, sought to do his family member wrong!

Once I went to the eastern regions, and Sisupala, like an enemy,
Burned my famous seaport Dwarka, destroying the market and temple!

Once, on Bhoja's trusting monarch, the unfaithful Sisupala attacked,
Killed his men and locked him up in the dungeon of his castle!

Once for a sacred aswamedha ceremony, Vasudeva sent his horse,
Sisupala stole the horse, trying to prevent the honorable act,

Once on saintly Babhru's wife, virtuous, pure, and fair,
Sisupala lost his mind, compelling her to his desire,

Once Visala's beautiful princess went to seek her husband's side,
In her husband's clothes disguised, Sisupala embraced the bride!

This and more Krishna has endured, for his mother is related to us,
But the disgusting story is shocking, and he’s adding sin to sin!

One more story of sin I bring up: driven by his wicked desire,
Sisupala has yearned for my holy wife, Rukmini,

As the low-born seeks the Veda, tainting it with impure breath,
Sisupala pursued my partner, and his just fate is Death!”

Krishna said; the rising red blood reveals each angry hero's shame,
Shame for Chedi's wicked deeds, sorrow for Sisupala's fame!

Loudly laughed proud Sisupala, spoke with bitter taunts and jeers,
Answered Krishna's high threats with disdain and a cruel sneer:

“Why then, in this huge gathering, do you tell your story of shame,
If your married wife and partner sparked my youthful passion?

Does a man of sense and honor, blessed with wisdom and pride,
Proclaim that his wife was once another's loving bride?

Do your worst! Whether driven by anger or weak patience,
Sisupala asks for no mercy, nor does he fear Krishna's anger!”

Lowered Krishna's gaze and brow, and in his hands appeared
The deadly disc, the terror of wrongdoers, a disc that never missed its target,

“Monarchs gathered here!” Krishna shouted in his anger,
“Often has Chedi's wicked king defied Krishna's noble fury,

For his devoted mother, a promise and loyalty were given,
Krishna would forgive Sisupala's hundred mistakes.

I’ve kept the promised vow, but his wrongs go beyond the story,
And now, under this vengeful weapon, Sisupala will tremble!

Then the shining and spinning discus, as Krishna commanded,
Struck the wicked Sisupala, and severed his head from his body,

Fell the mighty-armed king like a thunder-struck rock,
Severed from the parent mountain by the bolt's unstoppable force!

And his soul, free from passions, emerged from its mortal shroud,
Like the radiant sun in all its glory coming out from a dark, covering cloud,

To Krishna, kind and benevolent, like a bright spark ignited,
Purified of its sins and fury, Sisupala's spirit arrived!

Rain pours down in heavy sheets, bright lightning flashes quickly,
And the ground shakes with a tremor, restless thunder rumbles in the sky,

Various emotions wash over the kings as they stand in silent awe,
Silently in those wordless moments, they look at the lifeless warrior!

Some people look for their weapons, and their nervous fingers shake,
And they bite their lips in anger, and their bodies tremble with fear,

Others in their hearts embrace Krishna's just action,
See the death of Sisupala as a fitting reward for a sinner,

Rishis celebrate the actions of Krishna as they go about their paths,
Brahmans, pure and devoted, sing the praises of the righteous Krishna!

Sad Yudhishthir, kind-hearted, said to his brothers:
“Let’s carry out funeral rites and show royal honors for the deceased,”

Dutifully, his loyal brothers then carried out every sacred ritual,
Honors owed to Chedi's king, for his status and unmatched power,

Sisupala's son was seated in his powerful father's place,
And with sacred abhisheka proclaimed him the king of the Chedi lineage!

Thus removed the unfortunate obstacle, now the sacred sacrifice
Was performed with joy and splendor and with offerings of gold and rice,

Godlike Krishna watched kindly with his bow, discus, and mace,
And Yudhishthir ended the feast with his warmth and elegance.

Brahmins sprinkled holy water on the empire's just ruler,
All the kings bowed down, speaking in kind and elegant words:

“Born of the Ajamidha race! You've carried on your father's legacy,
Growing in your own virtue, you've earned an even greater name,

And this ritual for your position brings a more sacred grace,
And your royal grace and kindness fulfill all our hopes and wishes,

Grant us, king of powerful rulers, now we enter our lands,
Emperor over all earthly kings, bless us and bestow your grace!

Good Yudhishthir spoke to the kings with respect and honor as they parted,
And to his devoted brothers, he lovingly said:

"These noble kings came to our feast out of the loyal love they have,
From the edges of their kingdoms, let our friends join them as well."

And his brothers and his relatives faithfully obey his command,
As they journey home with each departing guest and king.

Arjun moves along with the noble Drupad, known for his impressive warrior skills,
Dhrishta-dyumna with Virata, king of the Matsya lineage,

Bhima waits for the ancient Bhishma and Kuru's king,
Sahadeva waits on Drona, strong in battle and great in virtue,

With Gandhara's fierce king, brave Nakula presses on,
Other leaders with their kings where their far-off realms are drawn.

Last of all, Yudhishthir's relative, the virtuous Krishna, was eager to leave,
And to the noble Yudhishthir, he reveals his joyful feelings:

“Having completed this glorious rajasuya, the joy and pride of the Kuru clan,
Grant, O friend! that Krishna may now make his way to sea-surrounded Dwarka.”

“By your grace and by your bravery,” sad Yudhishthir replies,
“By your presence, noble Krishna, I accomplished this great task,

By your all-conquering glory, kings accepted Yudhishthir's rule,
They came with gifts and valuable presents, bringing their rich tributes to pay,

Must you leave? I can't tell you, friend, to go,
Without you, power would be meaningless, and life would be filled with sorrow,

Yet you are leaving, sinless Krishna, dearest, best-loved friend,
And to Dwarka's sea-washed mansions Krishna must go!

Then to Yudhishthir's mother, kind-hearted Krishna hurries,
And in inspiring tones, he says to the ancient Pritha:

“Royal fame and noble glory surround your sons, honored lady,
Take joy in their unmatched skill, in their pure and flawless reputation,

May your sons' success and victories bring joy to a widowed mother's heart,
Please give me permission, O noble lady! for I am leaving for Dwarka.”

From Yudhishthir's queen Draupadi, the chief departs with many tears,
And from Arjun's wife Subhadra, Krishna's beloved sister.

Then, with rituals and proper cleansings to the gods, offerings are made,
Priests recite their blessings, for the righteous Krishna said,

And his loyal charioteer brings his car with the falcon banner,
Like the clouds in grand splendor and unstoppable in battle,

Pious Krishna gets on the chariot, warmly says goodbye to his friends once again,
Leaves the sacred waters of blue Jumna for the beloved shores of Dwarka,

Still, Yudhishthir and his brothers, sad, hurt, and grieving,
Followed Krishna's moving chariot, as they couldn't bear to see him leave,

Krishna paused his chariot again and offered his final blessing,
Then the leader with lotus-like eyes spoke in a steady and courageous voice:

“King of men! Always keep a watchful eye over your kingdom,
Just like a father, take care of your people with love and concern.

Be like a raindrop nourishing the thirsty earth,
Be like a tree providing shade from the heat around,

Like the endless blue sky, always be kind to them,
Free from pride and free from passion, guide them with a virtuous mind!

Spoke and left the holy Krishna, pure and good-hearted leader,
Sad Yudhishthir headed home, and his heart was filled with sorrow.

Duryodhan returned from the Imperial Sacrifice filled with jealousy towards Yudhishthir and plotted to bring about his downfall. Sakuni, the prince of Gandhara, shared Duryodhan's hatred for the sons of Pandu and assisted him in his sinister plans. Despite Yudhishthir's piety and righteousness, he had one flaw: a love for gambling, which was a common vice among rulers at the time. Sakuni was skilled at rigging dice and challenged Yudhishthir, who felt it was a matter of honor not to refuse such a challenge.

He traveled from his new capital, Indra-prastha, to Hastina-pura, the capital of Duryodhan, with his mother, brothers, and Draupadi. As Yudhishthir kept losing game after game, he felt the sting of his losses, and with the impulsiveness of a gambler, he continued with the dangerous game. His wealth, stored gold and jewels, horses, elephants, chariots, male and female servants, his kingdom, and all his possessions were all wagered and lost!

The chaos grew, and Yudhishthir bet his brothers, then himself, and then the beautiful Draupadi, and lost! So, the Emperor of Indra-prastha and his family lost everything they owned and became the servants of Duryodhan. The old king Dhritarashtra freed them from actual slavery, but the five brothers went into the forest as homeless exiles.

Portions of Section 65 and the entire Sections 69, 76, and 77 of Book 2 of the original text have been translated in this Book.

Glowing on the clear waters of the Ganges, Hastinapura's walls shine brightly.
Queen Draupadi, properly respected, lives inside the palace halls,

But just like a sneaky jackal slips into a powerful lion's lair,
Base Duryodhan's lowly servant approached the proud Draupadi's attention.

“Excuse me, Empress,” said the servant, “royal Pandu's righteous son,
lost his game and lost his mind, Empress, you are staked and won,

Prince Duryodhan claims you, lady, and the winner tells me to say,
You will serve him as his subject, as his servant in the palace stay!”

“Did I hear you right, servant?” she asked in deep anguish,
“Does a crowned king and husband gamble his wife and lose his queen,

Did my noble lord and king lose his sense and reasoning while gambling,
He didn't bet anything else but to sacrifice his wedded wife!”

“Other stakes were properly bet,” he said with a bitter sigh,
“Riches and power, everything that Yudhishthir claimed as his own,

Lost himself and all his brothers, the brave princes are now prisoners,
Then he bet his wife and empress, you are Prince Duryodhan's slave!”

Rose the queen in regal anger, and with a woman's pride she said
“Quick, servant, go to your master, take Queen Draupadi's response,

If my lord, who is also a servant, has bet his queen and wife,
It's a false bet, because a servant owns neither wealth nor another's life,

Slave can’t bet his wife or kids, and such a thing can’t be undone,
Believe me when I say to Prince Duryodhan, Queen Draupadi is not won!”

Wrathful was the proud Duryodhan when he heard the bold reply,
To his younger, wild Duhsasan, this angry command he did supply:

“Small-minded is the servant, and his heart fails in fear,
For the fear of angry Bhima, see! his cowardly heart trembles,

You, Duhsasan, tell the princess to come before us as our servant,
Pandu's sons are lowly slaves, and your heart knows no fear!”

Fierce Duhsasan heard the command, his eye burning with rage,
Immediately he rushed to the inner chambers with eager steps,

Proudly sat the beautiful Draupadi, daughter of a king, wife of a king,
To her, the vile Duhsasan delivered the insulting message:

“Lotus-eyed Panchala princess! Fairly staked and won in the game,
Come and meet your lord Duryodhan, chase away that blush of shame!

Serve us as your lords and masters, be our beautiful bright-eyed servant,
Come to the Council Chamber, and attend to the young and brave!

Proud Draupadi trembles at Duhsasan's hateful gaze,
And she covers her eyes and forehead, her pale cheeks turning white,

At his words, her pure heart sinks, and with a frantic, turned-away gaze,
Queen Draupadi rushes to the rooms where the women are.

Vainly ran the trembling princess in her fear and shame,
With her flowing wavy hair, fierce Duhsasan held her tight!

Sacred sights! with holy water sprinkled at the rajasuya ceremony,
And by mantra blessed, aromatic, flowing, deep black,

Base Duhsasan, holding the faint and fluttering queen by her hair,
No longer feared the sons of Pandu or their fierce and sharp vengeance,

Dragged her in her slipping clothes by her long, flowing hair,
And like a young tree shaken by the storm, she wept and shook, the trembling beauty!

Stooping in her shame and pain, pale with anger and fear,
Trembling and with choked words, she spoke with tears streaming down:

“Leave me, shameless Prince Duhsasan! The elders and noble lords are present,
Can a decent married woman appear in such revealing clothing?”

Vain are the words and gentle pleas that the crying princess spoke,
Vainly to the gods and humans she in painful despair prayed,

For with harsh words of insult, Duhsasan still mocked her plea:
“Wearing little or nothing at all—you’re heading to the council hall,

Slave girl, captured and defeated, serve your brave masters,
Live among our household staff, serve us as our willing slave!

Loose-clothed, with flowing hair, Draupadi entered weak and faint,
Stood in the Council Chamber, tearful as she made her sorrowful plea:

“Elders! knowledgeable in sacred sastra, and in every sacred ritual,
Please excuse Draupadi for appearing in this unfortunate and inappropriate situation,

Stay your sinful actions, Duhsasan, spare me the nameless wrongs and insults,
Do not touch me with unclean hands; a woman's hair is sacred,

Honored elders, righteous nobles, have granted me protection,
Tremble, sinner, seek no mercy from the wrathful gods above!

Here in glory, son of Dharma, sits my honorable and just lord,
Neither sin, shame, nor human weakness tarnishes Yudhishthir's actions or words,

Silent all? Will no leader step up to save a woman's life,
Not a single hand or voice is raised to defend a virtuous wife?

Lost is Kuru's rightful glory, lost is Bharat's historic name,
Lost is Kshatra's noble strength, bravery, and knightly fame,

Why do the Kuru warriors passively watch this disrespectful scene,
Why don’t righteous weapons shine to defend an insulted queen?

Bhishma, has he lost his virtue? Drona, has he lost his power?
Has the king of the Kurus stopped fighting for what is right?

Why are you silent and speechless, famous advisors?
With blank stares and trembling arms, you watch this disgraceful act of the Kuru!”

Draupadi spoke with a sharp tone, her voice clear and strong,
Anger burned in her heart and tears filled her eyes!

And her sparkling, expressive glances fell on Pandu's sons like fire,
Igniting in them a powerful passion and a deep thirst for revenge!

Lost their empire, wealth, and fortune, they cared little for the downfall,
But Draupadi's pleading glances hit them all like a dagger!

Darkly frowned the ancient Bhishma, angry Drona bit his tongue,
Pale Vidura noted with anger the insults hurled at Draupadi!

Foul words and dishonorable actions couldn't twist their honest speech,
And they condemned Duhsasan's deeds when they listened to Draupadi's cries!

But brave Karna, even though he was a warrior—Arjun's fierce enemy—
spoke his scorn bitterly against the humbled sons of Pandu:

“It's not your fault, beautiful princess! You've fallen into this humble situation,
Wife and son don’t control their actions; others control their unfortunate fate!

Yudhishthir sold his birthright, traded you away at the unjust game,
And the wife shares in her husband's fate, and her role—to obey!

Live in this Kuru household, do what the Kuru princes want,
Serve them like your lords and masters, and keep them pleased with your beauty!

Fair One! find another husband who, in silly reckless games,
Will not gamble with a loving woman, will not cast her aside in shame!

For they don't judge a woman when she's a servant,
If her desires drift toward the young and the bold!

For your lord is not your husband, and as a slave, he has no wife,
You are free to enjoy a married life with a truer lover!

They who chose you at the swayamvara, beautiful bride of Panchala,
They have lost you, dear Draupadi, lost their kingdom and their pride!”

Bhima heard this, and quickly and fiercely, his chest swelled with shame,
And his glaring gaze fell on Karna like a withering flame!

Bound by the elder's promised oath, Bhima couldn't strike out in anger,
He appeared as a painted figure of Anger, burning with deep anguish!

“King and elder!” said Bhima, and his words were brief and bold,
“Anger and righteous zeal were useless in the sold and enslaved servant!

Would that son of the chariot driver throw this sharp insult at us,
If you, noble king and elder, hadn't risked either our freedom or our queen?”

Sad Yudhishthir listened in pain, his head bowed in shame,
Proud Duryodhan laughed in victory, and said with mocking tones:

“Speak, Yudhishthir, for your brothers accept their elder's just authority,
Speak, for truth lives in you, and virtue always guides your path,

Have you lost your newly built empire, and your proud and brave brothers?
Have you lost your beautiful Draupadi, is your wedded wife our slave?”

Lip nor eye did move Yudhishthir, hateful truth would not deny,
Karna laughed, but noble Bhishma wiped his aged and strong eye!

Madness took hold of the arrogant Duryodhan, and fueled by his base desires,
He aimed to tarnish Draupadi with a terrible and shameful disgrace!

On the proud and unmatched woman, he cast his loving, lustful gaze,
Wanting to make the noble princess his slave, held close on his knee!

Bhima no longer held back his anger; with a look as fierce as lightning, he threw it out,
And the old hall of the Kurus echoed with the sound of his thunderous voice:

“I hope I never get to those grand places where my ancestors reside up above,
I hope I never encounter my forebears in the bright and joyful sky,

If that knee, by which you sin, Bhima won't break in his rage,
In the bloody battle arena with his deadly weapon!

Red fire blazed on Bhima's forehead, shining from his angry eye,
Just like crackling red sparks flying from tough, twisted branches!

Hark! in the sacred room, where the priests in white clothes
With offerings morning and evening feed the sacrificial fire,

And over sacred rights of homa Brahmans chant their mantra loud,
You can hear the jackal's wailing and the raven's ominous call!

Wise Vidura recognized the omen, and Queen Gandhari understood it as well,
Bhishma murmured “svasti! svasti!” at this unusual and new sign,

Drona and teacher Kripa also spoke that sacred word,
The Queen Gandhari expressed her fears to her husband and royal lord.

Dhritarashtra listened and felt a sudden wave of holy fear,
His weak voice shook, and his eyes were clouded with tears:

“Son Duryodhan, always unfortunate, godless, lacking grace, and thoughtless child,
Have you really insulted and mocked Drupad's virtuous daughter,

Have you sought out death and danger, as destruction obscures our way?
Can an old man's gentle pleas still prevent this sign of anger?”

Slowly and gently, the blind king was guided to Draupadi,
And in soft and kind tones, the old man spoke to her:

“Noblest empress, dearest daughter, good Yudhishthir's pure wife,
Purest of the Kuru ladies, closest to my heart and life,

Pardon the wrong and cruel insult and avoid the anger of Heaven,
Speak your wish and ask for a blessing, let my son's mistake be forgiven!”

Answered him the beautiful Draupadi: “King of the Kuru lineage,
For your grace and your kindness may every joy on earth be yours!

Since you ask me to express my wishes, this is what I request from you,
That my gracious lord Yudhishthir be free from bondage once again!

I have given him a child, a noble boy who is fair and brave,
Whether he is a prince of royal blood or the son of a bound servant!

Let not naive children mock him with complete disdain,
Calling him a slave and dasaputra, born of a slave and bondsman!”

“Virtuous daughter, have your wishes,” the ancient monarch exclaimed,
“Name a second boon and blessing, and it will be granted.”

“Please grant me, O gracious father! Mighty Bhima, brave Arjun,
And the youngest twin-born brothers—none of them shall be a slave!

With their arms and their chariots, let the noble princes separate,
Free men let them roam the land, strong and courageous!

“Fine, high-destined princess!” ancient Dhrita-rashtra exclaimed,
“Ask for another favor or blessing, and it will be granted,

Foremost of my beloved daughters, treasured and the best,
By fulfilling your gentle wishes, I now feel my home is blessed!

“Not so,” the princess replied, “I can't ask for anything else.
You are generous, and Draupadi should be humble, wise, and gentle,

Twice I asked, and twice you agreed, and a Kshatra doesn't ask for more,
Brahmans, on the other hand, keep asking for favors forever!

Now, my lord and brave brothers, now that we’re free from their hateful oppression,
Let’s seek our fortune through our skill and by our courageous and honorable actions!

Now Yudhishthir, stripped of his kingdom, far from family, home, and comfort,
With his wife and loyal brothers must wander as homeless exiles.

Parting blessings spoke Yudhishthir, “Elder of the Kuru line,
Noble grandsire flawless Bhishma, may your glory always shine!

Drona, the priest and great teacher, the noble and courageous Kripa,
Kuru's king Dhritarashtra, may the gods protect your kingdom!

Good Vidura, true and loyal, may your goodness serve you well!
Warrior sons of Dhritarashtra, let me say goodbye to all of you!”

So he spoke to his family, hoping for good despite the wrong that was done,
And in quiet shame they listened, saying no parting words at all!

Pained at heart was good Vidura, and he asked in sore distress:
“Arya Pritha, will she wander in the endless wilderness?

Royal-born, not used to hardship, weak and unaccustomed to wandering,
Your holy mother is old, so let fair Pritha stay home.

And by all who are loved and respected, Pritha will live in my house,
Until your exile is over, you will find her safe and well.”

Answered him the sons of Pandu: “As you say,
To us, you are a father, and we will follow your wishes.

Give us your holy blessings, friend and father, before we go,
Blessings from the true and righteous strengthen the weak, weary heart.”

Spoke Vidura, kind-hearted: “Greatest of Bharat's ancient lineage,
Let me bless you and your brothers, souls of truth and virtuous grace!

Luck doesn’t bring any good to people who succeed through deceit,
And sadness doesn’t bring any shame to those who are honest and true!

You are skilled in the laws of duty, Arjun is unbeatable in battle,
And Bhima shines brightly in the fight, guided by his loyal star,

And the Twins are incredibly wise, destined to lead a powerful kingdom,
Loyal Draupadi, always true, earns the favor of unpredictable Fate!

Each of you has unique gifts and is loved by everyone.
You will gain a vast empire, even greater and stronger after a setback.

This exile of yours, good Yudhishthir, is meant to benefit you,
It's a test and samadhi, because it refines you to heal!

Meru taught you wise sayings where the Himalayas rise high,
And in the Varnavata forest, Vyasa taught you sacred love,

Rama taught the principles of duty high on Bhrigu's tall hill,
Sambhu revealed the path where Drisad-vati's clear stream flows,

Fell from the lips of saint Asita, words of wisdom deep and serious,
Bhrigu touched with fire your heart by the dark Kalmashi's wave,

Now once again the teaching comes, purer, brighter, taught more often,
Learn the truth from heavenly Narad, happy is your mortal life!

Greater than the son of Ila, greater than the kings of the earth in strength,
Holier than the sacred rishis, may you shine in your virtue!

Indra help you in your battles, proud conqueror of humanity,
Yama in the greater challenge, in mastering your thoughts!

Good Kuvera, teach you kindness, feed the hungry and the poor,
King Varnua, calm your passions, free your heart from sin and greed!

Like the Moon in pure light, like the Earth in deep patience,
Like the Sun shining brilliantly, strong like the unstoppable wind!

In your sorrow, in your struggles, learn deeper lessons,
May your life be righteous while in exile, and may you have a joyful return!

May these eyes see you again in Hastina's old town,
Conqueror of earthly challenges, wearing virtue's divine crown!”

Vidura spoke to the brothers, and they sensed their strength growing,
They bowed to him in respect, filled with a deeper, more sacred peace,

Bowed to Bhishma and Drona, and to all the chiefs and elders,
Exiles went into the uncharted jungle, leaving their father's old hall!

In the private palace rooms where the royal women live,
Draupadi came to Pritha to say her heartfelt goodbye,

Monarch's daughter, monarch's partner, as an exile she must leave,
Pritha cried, and in the chambers, the sound of sorrow filled the air!

Heaving sobs shook her chest as she offered a silent prayer,
And in a voice choked with pain, she spoke her final words:

“Don’t be sad, child, if cruel fate decides that we have to part,
Virtue has her comforts for the true and loving heart!

And I don’t need to remind you, daughter, of the responsibilities of a devoted wife,
You've brought brightness to Drupad's and your husband's homes with your life!

Nobly from the sinful Kurus you have turned your righteous anger,
Safely, with a mother's blessing, walk the path through the wild jungle!

Dangers bring no trouble or sadness to the loyal and devoted wife,
Virtuous actions and righteous behavior always protect her blessed life!

Nurse your lord with a woman's kindness, and his brothers, wherever you go,
Young in age is Sahadeva, gentle and unaccustomed to sorrow!”

“Your loving blessings help me, mother,” said the beautiful Draupadi,
“Safe in righteous truth and virtue, we walk the forest paths without fear!”

Wet her eyes and let her hair down, beautiful Draupadi bowed and left,
Ancient Pritha, crying, followed, stripped of all earthly joy,

As she walked, her obedient children now stood in front of their mother,
Wearing deer-skin clothes, and their heads were lowered in shame!

Sorrow rising in her chest choked her voice and filled her eyes,
Until in barely audible, choked tones, Pritha said:

“Always true to the path of duty, noble children without blemish,
Faithful to the gods, loyal to mortals—why this undeserved suffering,

Why has premature sorrow, like a dark cloud above,
Cast its pale and deadly shadow on the children I cherish?

Woe to me, your miserable mother, woe to the one who brought you into this world,
Innocent sons, for the wrongs of Pritha have you faced on this earth!

Will you wander the pathless forest, dreary by day and dark at night,
Stripped of everything except your own inner strength, dressed in your true, natural power?

Woe to me, from the rocky mountains where I lived by Pandu's side,
When I lost him, why did I come to Hastina in my pride?

Your blessed father is happy; he lives in the heavens,
He neither sees nor feels the earthly sorrows piling up on us!

Happy is faithful Madri; she walked the virtuous path,
Followed Pandu to the bright sky, and is now his joy and support!

You alone are left to Pritha, dear to her joyless heart,
Mother's hope and widow's treasure, and you may not, shall not part!

Leave me not alone on this vast earth, my beloved sons, show me your strength,
Dear Draupadi, cherished daughter, let a mother’s tears touch your heart!

Grant me mercy, kind Creator, and let my days end with mercy,
End my sorrows, kind Vidhata, and finish my life along with all my troubles!

Help me, compassionate Krishna, friend of the friendless, ease my pain,
All who suffer call out to you, and their prayers are never in vain!

Help me, Bhishma, battle-ready Drona, wise and noble Kripa,
You are friends of truth and goodness, always valuing righteous truth!

Help me from your starry homes, husband, why do you wait,
Don’t you see your godlike children exiled by a cruel fate!

Part not, leave me not, my children, seek not the uncharted path,
Stay but one, if only one child, as your mother's hope and support!

Youngest, gentlest Sahadeva, dearest to this grieving heart,
Will you stay by your mother’s side while your harsh brothers leave?”

Whispering words of comfort, Pritha's kids wiped her tears,
Then they headed into the endless jungle with heavy hearts!

Kuru ladies rush with fainting Pritha to Vidura's palace,
Kuru queens lift their voices in response to weeping Pritha,

Kuru maids for fair Draupadi's changing fortune criticize,
And with their streaming fingers shade their tear-soaked lotus faces!

Dhritarashtra, an ancient king, is troubled by sad doubts,
He often wonders with a heavy heart what the cruel fates have in store.

True to their promise, the sons of Pandu went into exile with Draupadi and spent twelve years in the wilderness, filled with many incidents that marked their life in the forest. Krishna, who supported Yudhishthir during his times of wealth, came to see him during his struggles; he comforted Draupadi in her pain and offered wise counsel to the brothers. Draupadi, with her pride and frustration, still thought about her wrongs and the insults she faced, urging Yudhishthir to ignore the rules of exile and reclaim his kingdom. Bhima shared the same feelings, but Yudhishthir refused to break his promise.

The great rishi Vyasa came to visit Yudhishthir and advised Arjun, the skilled archer, to gain divine weapons through penance and worship. Arjun took the advice, encountered the god Siva disguised as a hunter, impressed him with his fighting skills, and received his blessings along with the pasupata weapon. Arjun then went to Indra's heaven and obtained more celestial weapons.

In the meantime, Duryodhan, not satisfied with sending his cousins into exile, wanted to further humiliate them by showing off his royal power and grandeur. However, things turned out differently than he expected, and he ended up getting into a fight with some gandharvas, a group of celestial beings. Duryodhan was captured by them, and it was the Pandav brothers who freed him from captivity and let him return to his kingdom peacefully. This act of generosity upset him and intensified his hatred.

Jayadratha, the king of the Sindhu or Indus region, and a friend and ally of Duryodhan, came to the forest and, finding the Pandav brothers absent, took Draupadi. However, the Pandavs chased after him, confronted him for his wrongdoing, and rescued Draupadi.

Even more fascinating than these various incidents are the stories and legends that fill this book. Great saints visited Yudhishthir during his exile and shared tales from ancient times and about past kings. One of these lovely episodes, the story of Nala and Damayanti, has been beautifully translated into English verse by Dean Milman and is known by many English readers. The legend of Agastya, who drained the ocean; of Parasu-Rama, a Brahman who defeated the Kshatriyas; of Bhagiratha, who brought the Ganges from the heavens to earth; of Manu and the great flood; of Vishnu and other gods; of Rama and his adventures, which are the focus of the Epic Ramayana;—these and many other legends are woven into the narrative of the Pandavs' life in the forest, making it a true treasure trove of ancient Hindu stories and traditions.

Among these various legends and stories, I've chosen one that is unique and striking. The core truth, wrapped in the form of an eastern allegory, is that a True Woman's Love cannot be defeated by Death. This story is known by Hindu women of all backgrounds—rich and poor, from every corner of India; on a specific night each year, millions of Hindu women celebrate a ritual in honor of the woman whose love transcended death. While legends like these may detract from the unity and brevity of the Epic, they provide valuable moral lessons to countless people in India that are invaluable.

The portion translated in this Book forms Sections 292 and 293, part of Section 294, and Sections 295 and 296 of Book III of the original text.

In the dark and endless forest, the Pandav brothers wandered,
In the heart of the jungle, they stayed with the beautiful Draupadi,

And they hunted the forest red deer, chopped the twisted forest wood,
From the stream she collected the water, cooked the simple daily meals,

In the morning, she cleaned the cottage and started a warm fire in the evening,
But at night, in lonely silence, her heart would often feel heavy.

Insults festered in her heart and her hair was loose,—
So she vowed,—until the right revenge had been taken against those despicable insulters!

Oftentimes, when evening darkness fell, covering the woods and fields,
When Draupadi cooked the food by the cottage under the tree,

Rishis visited the noble Yudhishthir, sitting by his evening fires,
Sharing many old stories, legends of our ancient ancestors.

Markandeya, the holy sage, once came to Yudhishthir,
When his heart was weighed down with memories of his shame,

“Excuse me, Rishi!” Yudhishthir said, “if tears come uninvited,
But the troubles of the beautiful Draupadi weigh heavy on a banished husband's heart,

By her tears, the holy woman freed me from a bondage worse than death,
Because of my sins, she endures exile and the cold breath of misfortune!

Do you, wise and holy rishi, know of a wife or woman born,
Who has been struck by such nameless sorrow, torn by such strange misfortune?

Have you in your old stories heard of a true and faithful wife,
With a stronger wife's love, and a sadder woman's life?

“Listen, king!” said the sage, “to a story from long ago,
How Savitri loved and endured, how she fought and triumphed over Fate!”

In the land of Madras, there was a king in ancient times,
Faithful to the sacred Brahma, with a pure heart and a righteous spirit,

He was admired in both the city and the countryside, at the palace and in the hermit's hut,
A worshipper of the shining gods, a supporter of his fellow humans,

But the king, Aswapati, had no sons or daughters,
Old and filled with sorrow, and his days were nearly over!

Vows he made and did his penance, following sacred rules,
Restrained in diet like a brahmachari and performed many holy rituals,

Sang the sacred hymn, savitri, to the gods and made offerings,
He fasted all day without complaint, humble and courageous!

Year after year, he gained virtue, increased in worth and strength,
Until the goddess of savitri smiled upon his holy ritual,

From the fire on the altar, which a holy light cast,
In the shape of a beautiful maiden, the goddess of savitri emerged!

And she spoke in gentle tones, blessed the good and brave king,
Blessed his rituals and holy penance and granted him a favor:

“Your penance and sacrifices can move the immortal powers,
And the purity of your behavior shows your heart's true feelings,

Ask for your wish, King Aswapati, from the Ancient Creator,
Stay true to virtue's sacred call and express your deepest desire.

“For a brave and noble heir,” the saintly king replied,
“I have performed holy rites, sacrifices, and this penance.

If these rituals and offerings earn your favor and grace,
Grant me children, Prayer-Maiden, worthy of my noble lineage!”

“Have your goal,” said the maiden, “Madra's kind-hearted king,
From Swaymbhu, Self-created, blessings to you I bring!

For He listens to human prayers coming from a heart like yours,
And He intends — a noble daughter to bless your famous and royal lineage!

Aswapati, feeling happy and thankful, accepts the blessing I offer,
Sharing in joy and in quiet, I bow to the King of Creation!”

Vanished then the Prayer-Maiden, and the king of noble fame,
Aswapati, Lord of horses, returned to his royal city,

Days of hope and nights of joy, Madra's joyful king thrived,
Until his queen, with noble heritage, finally brought a joyful promise!

As the moon grows bigger each night, driving away the dark of night,
So did the unborn baby thrive in glory in its mother's joyful womb,

And as the season reached its peak, a girl with lotus-like eyes arrived,
The hope of her father and the joy of her mother, a gift from the kind gods above!

And the king celebrated its arrival with a joyful and thankful heart,
And the people showered their best wishes on the beloved one with kindness.

As Savitri, Prayer-Maiden, had the beautiful child born,
Brahmans named the baby Savitri, a holy gift from generous Heaven!

Grew the child in brighter beauty like a goddess from above,
And each passing season added more sweetness and deeper love,

Came with youth its lovelier graces, as the buds their leaves unfold,
Slender waist and rounded bosom, image like burnished gold,

Deva-Kanya! born a goddess, or so they said everywhere,
Noble suitors dazzled by her beauty hesitated to ask for her hand!

Once upon a time, on a bright and festive day,
Fresh from her bath, the beautiful maiden came to the altar to pray,

And with cakes and pure drinks carefully offered to the Sacred Flame,
Then like Sri in heavenly light, she went to her royal father,

Bowed at his feet in silence, sacred flowers beside him placed,
And she folded her hands humbly, sweetly showing her respect,

With a father's pride, the ruler of the land looked at her,
But a hint of sadness remained, as no suitor had claimed her hand.

“Daughter,” whispered Aswapati, “I think the time has come,
You should choose a noble suitor, and adorn a royal husband’s home,

Choose yourself a noble husband worthy of your noble hand,
Choose a true and upright ruler, pride and glory of his country,

As you wish, dear daughter, in your loving heart's desire,
Blessing and his free permission will grant your happy father!

For our sacred scriptures approval, holy priests often tell,
That the duty-loving father sees his daughter married well,

That the devoted husband keeps an eye on his wife's actions,
That the caring child looks after his mother's lonely days,

Therefore, pick a loving husband, daughter of my home and love,
So your father earns no criticism from people or the gods above!”

Fair Savitri bowed to him and prayed for parting blessings,
Then she left her father's palace and wandered into distant lands,

With her bodyguards and older courtiers that her protective father sent,
She rode on her golden chariot into the forested woodlands.

Then in beautiful forests and jungles, she roamed day after day,
To asrams, hermitages, where kind-hearted people welcomed her way,

Often she stayed in holy tirthas washed by sacred clear streams,
She gave food to the hungry, wealth beyond their wildest dreams!

Many days and months have passed, and it once happened,
That the king and rishi Narad were sitting in the royal hall,

From her travels, both near and far, and from famous places,
Beautiful Savitri arrived at her father's palace with the courtiers,

Came and saw her royal father, rishi Narad by his seat,
Bowed her head in respect, honoring their sacred feet.

“Where does she come from,” Narad asked, “where was Savitri taken,
Why hasn’t Savitri been married to a happy husband?”

“Nay! to choose her lord and husband,” said the virtuous king,
“Fair Savitri has long wandered and stayed in sacred tirthas,

Maiden! Talk to the rishi, and share your choice and secret!”
Then a blush spread across her forehead, and her words came out soft and slow!

“Listen, Dad! Salwa's king was once a powerful ruler,
The righteous Dyumat-sena, now weak and blind,

Foemen took his kingdom when he lost his sight in old age,
And the king was forced to flee from his town and vast empire,

With his queen and baby, the weak king wandered,
And the jungle was his palace; his tired path was shadowy.

Holy vows taken by the king and he spent his life in atonement,
In the untamed woods, he cared for his child and fed his wife with wild fruits,

Years have passed in strict penance, and that child is now a young man,
Him I choose as my lord and husband, Satyavan, Soul of Truth!”

Thoughtful was the rishi Narad, sorrowful were the words he spoke:
“Sad disaster awaits Savitri if she marries this royal youth!

Truth-loving is his father, truthful is the royal lady,
Truth and virtue guide his actions, Satyavan is his name,

He loved horses in his childhood, and painting them brought him joy,
So, they called him young Chitraswa, the art-loving young man!

But O kind-hearted king! beautiful Savitri has truly
brought upon herself fate and sad misfortune in that noble brave young man!”

“Tell me,” asked Aswapati, “because I can't guess what you're thinking,
Why is my daughter’s behavior filled with such sorrowful trouble?”

Is the young person of noble spirit, talented in the arts,
Blessed with wisdom, skill, bravery, and fearless in their heart?

“Surya's brightness shines within him,” said the rishi Narad,
“Brihaspati wisdom resides in young Satyavan's mind,

Like Mahindra in his skill, and patient like the Earth,
Yet O king! a tragic fate has marked the gentle youth from birth!”

“Tell me, rishi, your reason,” the worried king exclaimed,
“Why should this talented and exceptional girl not be united with such youth?”

Is Satyavan generous, kind-hearted, full of charm,
Well-versed in sacred knowledge, good in spirit and good-looking?”

“Generous in gifts like Rantideva,” the holy rishi said,
“Knowledgeable in wisdom like King Sivi, who led all the ancient kings,

Like Yayati, generous and open-hearted, and like Chandra in his grace,
Like the attractive heavenly Asvins, fair and radiant in his features,

Gentle and full of patience, he manages his noble thoughts,
Humble in his kind deeds, loyal to friends and always caring,

And the forest hermits praise him for his righteous truth,
However, king, your daughter cannot marry this noble-hearted young man!”

“Tell me, sage,” said the king, “for I have no understanding,
Does this prince have some serious flaw, which is why this union is forbidden?”

“Fatal flaw!” exclaimed the rishi, “a flaw that wipes away all his grace,
A flaw that no human power or effort, rite or penance can erase!

Fatal flaw or fated grief! For it is decided above,
On this day, one year later, this unfortunate prince will die!”

Shook the startled king in terror, and in fear and trembling cried:
“My child will never be joined to a short-lived, doomed groom!”

Come, Savitri, beloved girl! Choose a different, happier husband,
Rishi Narad shares wisdom, listen to his sacred words!

Every grace and every virtue is wiped out by cruel Fate,
On this day, a year later, the prince leaves his mortal life!”

“Father!” the maiden replied, her voice soft and filled with sadness,
“I have heard your respected command; the wise Narad advises wisely,

Forgive the foolish girl's feelings! But under the gaze of Heaven,
A girl only chooses once; her promise can't be given twice!

Whether his life is long or short, and whether he has many virtues or none,
Brave Satyavan is my husband; he has won my heart and my love!

What a girl’s heart has chosen, her lips will admit,
Loyal to him, your poor Savitri goes into the wild!

“Monarch!” said then the sage, “she is steadfast in mind and heart,
The true Savitri will never, never break her vow!

More than a human's share of goodness has been given to Satyavan,
Let the true woman marry her chosen one, and leave the rest to kind Heaven!”

“Rishi and holy teacher!” the weeping king prayed,
“May heaven protect us from all future troubles, and I will follow your guidance!”

Narad wished him happiness and joy, blessed the loving young man and woman,
Forest hermits offered their heartfelt blessings on their wedding day.

Twelve months in the dark forest with her true and chosen lord,
Lived Savitri, serving his parents with her thoughts, actions, and words,

Bark from trees was used to make the clothes that elegantly covered her chest,
Or the red fabric that holy women in asrams love to wear,

And the elderly queen cared for him with a loving and daughterly pride,
Attending to the old and blind king like a daughter at his side,

And with love and a gentle sweetness, she pleased her husband and her lord,
But in secret, day and night, she still thought about Narad's words!

Nearer came the fateful morning, as the holy Narad told,
Beautiful Savitri counted down the days, and her heart felt still and cold,

Three short days left! And she made a serious vow
Of triratra, three nights of penance, holy fasts, and long vigils!

Of Savitri's strict penance, the king listened with deep concern,
And spoke to her in caring words, hoping she would abandon her vow:

“It's a tough penance, dear daughter, and your woman's body is weak,
After three nights of fasting and praying, your delicate health might give out!”

“Don’t worry, loving father,” Savitri humbly prayed,
“I’ve done my penance, and it will be offered to the gods.”

Much doubting then the king gave his sad and slow agreement,
Pale with quick and hidden tears, lonely nights Savitri spent.

Nearer came the fateful morning, and tomorrow he will die,
Dark, dark hours of night are silent! Tearless, sleepless is her eye!

“Dawns that terrifying and destined morning!” said Savitri, pale yet courageous,
Offered her heartfelt prayers in silence, to the Fire she made her offerings,

Bowed to the wise ones of the forest, to her kind and caring parents,
She brought her hands together in a greeting and stood in respectful silence.

With the usual morning blessing, “Widow may you never be,”
Anchorites and old Brahmans blessed Savitri passionately,

Oh! that blessing came to her like rain on parched air,
Struggling hope filled her heart as she absorbed those lovely words!

But the dark memory of the rishi Narad's words returned,
She watched the creeping sunbeams with a pale expression, pondering her destined husband!

“Daughter, your fast is over now,” said the loving parents,
“Enjoy your meal after the penance, for you have said your morning prayers,”

“Excuse me, Dad,” said Savitri, “let this other day be over,”
Uncried tears filled her eyelids, shimmering in the morning sun!

Young Satyavan, tall and dignified, with a heavy axe slung over his shoulder,
Stepped out calmly and confidently into the distant, shadowy jungle,

But Savitri came to him and in the softest voice pleaded,
As she rested her forehead gently on his strong chest:

“Forever I wanted to see the jungle where the sunlight doesn’t touch,
Take me to the dark forest, husband, let me go today!”

“Don’t come, my love,” he lovingly replied with the concern of a devoted husband,
“You're not used to hard work; you shouldn’t venture on forest paths,

And with recent fasts and vigils, your face is pale and bloodless,
And your steps are weak and unsteady; you may not find your way through the jungle paths.

“Fasts and vigils make me stronger,” said the wife with pride,
“I won’t feel weariness or fatigue when my lord is by my side,

For I feel a woman’s desire to be with my lord,
Please, my ever gracious husband, let me go with you today!”

Answered then the loving husband, as he held her hands in his,
“Get my parents' permission to wander in the endless woods.”

Then Savitri urged her unusual wish to the king,
After a respectful greeting, she made her humble request:

“To the jungle goes my husband, looking for fuel and fruit,
I would follow if my mom and my loving dad say so,

Twelve months have passed since Savitri stepped out of this narrow asram,
In this cottage, Savitri has always stayed true and faithful.

For the sacrificial fire guides my lord on his lonely path,
Please, my caring and loving parents, I would follow him today.

“Never since her wedding morning,” the loving king replied,
“Has Savitri whispered a wish or sighed for a boon or desire,

"Daughter, your request is granted, roam safely in the forest,
Safely with your lord and husband, seek your cottage home again.”

Bowing to her loving parents, the beautiful Savitri took her leave,
A smile on her pale face, but pain deep within her heart!

Around her lush green woods bloomed under a clear Indian sky,
Flocks of peacocks with stunning plumage flew before her amazed gaze,

Woodland streams and clear brooks softly flowed over rocky beds,
Flower-covered hills in morning dew sparkled above.

Birds with beautiful feathers sang in every grove,
Sweeter words came from her husband's loving lips!

Still with a thoughtful gaze, Savitri watched her dear and destined lord,
A wave of grief filled her heart, but her pale lips formed no words,

And she listened to her husband, still focused on her anxious thoughts,
Her pounding heart split in two, as she continued in silence!

Cheerfully, the prince filled his basket with the wild fruits he had collected,
He chopped the intertwined branches with strength and practiced skill,

Till the sweat beaded on his forehead, his aching head was exhausted,
Weak, he approached Savitri and said in a shaky voice:

“An intense pain is on my forehead, dear and loyal wife,
And I feel a hundred needles stabbing me and torturing my life,

And my weak footsteps stumble, and my senses feel unsteady,
I would gladly linger beside you, for a sleep is coming over me.”

With a wild and silent fear, pale Savitri held her lord,
She rested his head on her lap as she laid him on the grass,

Narad's deadly words echoed in her mind as she looked at her husband's head,
His lips burning and his forehead pale, and the dark, creeping shadow,

Clutched him to her pounding chest, kissed his lips with heavy breaths,
The lonely forest darkened, and he fell into the sleep of death!

In the depths of the shadows, a dark and frightening Vision emerged,
A figure draped in darkness, wearing a crown on his head!

Gleaming form of black splendor, blood-red was his sparkling eye,
And a deadly noose he carried, grim and godlike, dark and high!

And he stood in silent reverence, gazing silently at the dead,
And Savitri gently laid her husband's head on the grass,

And a shiver ran through Savitri, but a woman's love is powerful,
With her hands on her chest, she spoke with a trembling voice:

“Your glory is beyond that of mortals, and you are like a shining god,
Tell me what beautiful name you have, and what message you bring to me.”

“Know me,” replied Yama, “the powerful king of the dead,
Humans leaving their earthly home are guided to my shadowy domains,

Since you have loved your husband dearly with all your heart,
Now before you, faithful woman, Yama appears in form,

But his days and loves are over, and he leaves his loyal wife,
In this noose, I bind and carry the spark of his eternal life,

Virtue filled his life and actions, and his noble heart was pure.
That's why I came to see you in person, princess, let your husband go.

Yama from Satyavan's body, pale and lifeless, cold and silent,
Pulled the vital spark, purusha, smaller than the human thumb,

In his noose, he tied the spark, silently walked his somber path,
Leaving the lifeless body stripped of shine to its stiff, cold decay.

Southward went the dark-colored Yama with the youth's eternal life,
And, because of a woman's love, the loyal wife continued to follow.

“Turn, Savitri,” said Yama, “because your husband loved and lost,
Perform the rituals that are due to mortals as determined by their destined fate,

For your duties as a wife come to an end, don’t linger in pointless sorrow,
And no other living being can accompany the king Yama!”

“But I have no choice but to follow wherever you take my husband's life,
For Eternal Law doesn't separate a loving man and a faithful wife!”

For my love and my affection, for a woman's deep sorrow,
Please, in your divine mercy, let me go further with him!

Four main responsibilities guide us as humans: first, to learn sacred teachings;
Then to live as good neighbors, feeding those in need at our door;

Then to spend our days in reflection; finally to focus our minds on higher things;
But the ultimate aim of goodness is Truth and everlasting Love!

“Your precepts are true and sacred,” replied Yama, listening,
“And they fill my heart with joy and with noble intentions high,

I would bless you, fair Savitri, but the dead don’t come back to life,
Ask for some other gift and blessing, loyal, honest, and virtuous wife!”

“Since you allow me to, Yama,” the good Savitri said,
“For my husband's exiled father, let my most heartfelt request be granted,

Sightless in the dark forest lives the weak and weary king,
Grant him sight and grant him strength, Yama, in your mercy speak!

“Dutiful daughter,” Yama replied, “may your faithful wishes be granted,
And his eyes will be restored to the bright light of heaven,

Turn back, Savitri, weak and tired, don’t linger in pointless sorrow,
And no other living being may follow the king Yama!”

“Neither faint nor weary is Savitri,” the noble princess said,
“Because she waits for her husband, the gracious Monarch of the dead,

What happens to the married husband also happens to the loyal wife,
Where he goes, she always follows, whether in death or in life!

And our holy texts declare, and our devout rishis sing,
Temporary encounters with the divine bring countless blessings,

Longer friendship with the divine purifies human life,
A lasting connection with the sacred is the bright sky on earth!

Union with the pure and holy is eternal heavenly life,
For Eternal Law does not separate a loving man and his faithful wife!”

“Blessed are your words,” said Yama, “blessed is your pious thought,
With a higher, purer wisdom are your holy lessons filled,

I would bless you, beautiful Savitri, but the dead don't come back to life,
Ask for another favor and blessing, loyal, honest, and virtuous wife!”

“Since you allow it, Yama,” the good Savitri said,
“Once again, let my plea be made for my husband's father,

Lost his kingdom, the weakened king lives in the forest,
Give him back his wealth and kingdom, Mountain, please speak in your mercy!”

“Beloved daughter!” Yama replied, “I offer you wealth and a kingdom,
But Savitri, a living person cannot accompany King Yama!”

Still Savitri, humble and devoted, followed her departed lord,
Yama still with greater wisdom listened to her righteous words,

And the Sable King was defeated, and he faced her once more,
And his words touched Savitri like refreshing summer rain,

“Noble woman, share your desires, state your wish and noble purpose,
What a devoted person asks of the gods in heaven cannot be denied!”

“Your Majesty,” Savitri replied, “have given my father his kingdom and power,
And to his blind and empty eyes have restored their precious sight,

Grant him that the line of kings may not all end too soon,
That his kingdom may pass down to Satyavan's and Savitri's sons!”

“Have your goal,” replied Yama, “and your lord will live again,
He will live to be a father, and your children too will reign,

For a woman's promise lasts longer than a quick breath,
And a woman's love is greater than the finality of Death!”

Vanished then the Black King, and Savitri continued on her path
Where in the thick and shadowy forest her husband still lay lifeless,

And she sat on the grass beside the cold, unfeeling dead,
Gently resting her partner's lifeless head on her lap.

And that genuine touch of affection brought him back to reality,
As the prince gazed upon his wife, returning from far-off places!

“Have I slept too long, sweet Savitri, my loyal wife?
But I dreamed of a dark figure who took my life with a noose!”

“Pillowed on this lap,” she replied, “you lay for a long time on the earth,
And the Dark Figure, your husband, has come and gone,

Rise and leave this dark forest if you feel light and strong,
For the night is in the jungle and our path is dark and long.”

Rising from a peaceful sleep, the young prince looked around,
He saw the vast jungle covering the dark ground,

“Yes,” he said, “I now remember, ever loving faithful lady,
We came in search of fruit and fuel to this lonely forest,

As I chopped the twisted branches, intense pain filled my mind,
And I lay down on the grass with a throbbing, sharp ache,

Pillowed on your soft chest, comforted by your kind love,
I was relaxed, and a sleepy slumber descended on me from above.

All was dark, and then I saw, was it just a brief dream,
God or a Vision, dark and frightening, shining in the deepening shadows!

Was this dream, my dear Savitri, do you know about this Vision?
Tell me, because the Vision still seems to shine before my eyes!

“Darkness deepens,” said Savitri, “and the evening grows late,
When tomorrow's light returns, I will tell all these stories,

Now get up, because darkness is closing in, and the night is getting darker,
And your worried, loving parents are anxiously waiting to see you.

Listen to the forest rangers! Their voices are striking!
Stalkers of the dark jungle! They fill me with fear!

Forest fire is raging over there, because I see a distant glow,
And the evening breezes are lifting the bright and fiery light,

Let me grab a burning stick and get a cozy light,
With these dried-out branches, I'll chase away the shadows of the night,

And if your steps are still weak,—it's a long and tiring journey,—
Rest by the fire, my husband, and come back when it’s light.

“For my parents, who are lovingly worried,” Satyavan replied,
“It hurts my heart and makes me long for them, let’s hurry to their cottage,

When I lingered in the jungle, whether during the day or at twilight,
My parents often worried as I searched in the hermitages,

And with my dad's gentle scoldings and my mom's caring worries,
They nagged me for being slow and showered me with their tender tears!

Think about my father's sadness, my mother's painful situation,
If we now spend the whole night far away in the woods and jungle,

Wife dear, I can’t understand what troubles or burdens,
Unknown risks, hidden pains, that my parents are experiencing right now!”

Gentle drops of sad affection rolled down his strong cheek,
Pond Savitri kindly speaking softly wiped the tears away:

“Trust me, husband, if Savitri has been faithful in her love,
If she has with sincere offerings served the righteous gods above,

If she shows a sister's kindness to her brothers,
If she has conformed in her words and actions to holy truth,

Unknown blessings, great joy, trust your ever-faithful wife,
And may sorrows or disasters not wait this evening for our parents' lives!”

Then she got up and tied back her hair, gently assisted her partner to stand,
Walked with him through the uncharted jungle, gazed lovingly into his eyes,

On her neck, his left arm wraps gently in a soft embrace,
Around his waist, Savitri's right arm sweetly intertwines,

Thus they walked through the dark jungle, silent stars looked down from above,
And the quiet, pulsing midnight witnessed Savitri's eternal love.

The terms of the banishment of the sons of Pandu were tough. They had to spend twelve years in exile, followed by a year in hiding. If they were found during this last year, they would have to go into exile for another twelve years.

Having completed twelve years of exile in the forests, the Pandav brothers disguised themselves and took on menial jobs for Virata, the king of the Matsyas, to spend their year in hiding. Yudhishthir posed as a Brahmin skilled in dice and became a royal advisor. Bhima worked as the king's cook. For Arjun, who was well-known, a more strict disguise was needed. He wore conch bangles and earrings and braided his hair, like those unfortunate individuals who are not recognized as fully male or female, and he lived in the king's inner quarters. He took on the name Brihannala and taught the members of the royal household music and dance. Nakula became the king's horse caretaker, while Sahadeva was put in charge of the king's cows. Draupadi also disguised herself as a servant and worked for the princess of the Matsya household in that modest role.

In these disguises, the Pandav brothers safely spent a year in hiding despite all the searches that Duryodhan conducted for them. Finally, an incident occurred that led to their discovery when the year was up.

Cattle theft was a common practice among the kings of ancient India, just like it was for the leaders of ancient Greece. The king of the Trigartas and the king of the Kurus teamed up and attacked the king of the Matsyas to steal the large herd of prized cattle for which his kingdom was known. The Trigartas entered the Matsya kingdom from the southeast, and while Virata led his troops to confront the enemy, Duryodhan and his Kuru forces attacked the kingdom from the north.

When news arrived that the Kurus had invaded the kingdom, there was no army in the capital to protect it. King Virata had taken most of his troops to confront the Trigartas in the southeast, and Prince Uttara wasn't eager to face the Kurus in the north. The disguised Arjun stepped in to help in the way described in this book. The account of the bows, arrows, and swords of the Pandav brothers, which they had hidden in a tree wrapped like human corpses to scare off curious travelers, gives some insight into the crafts and manufacturing of ancient times. The parts translated in this book comprise Sections xxxv., xxxvi., xl. to xliii., part of Section xliv., and Sections liii. and lxxii. of Book iv. of the original text.

Monarch of the great Matsyas, brave Virata known for his fame,
Marched against the Trigarta chieftains who came from the southern lands,

From the north, the proud Duryodhan, moving forward day by day,
Swooped down on Matsya's well-fed cattle like a hawk on its prey!

Bhishma, Drona, unmatched Karna, led the brave Kuru warriors,
Flooded the kingdom of Virata like the ocean's powerful wave,

Fell upon the shaking cowherds, drove them out of the pasture,
Sixty thousand head of cattle was the Matsya country's output!

And the crying leader of the cowherds ran away hopeless, tired and worn out,
Rushing in his fast chariot toward the royal city.

Came inside the city gates, entered through the palace door,
Hit his forehead in despair and mourned his unfortunate fate.

Meeting the prince Uttara there, a young man of beauty and fame,
I told him about the Kurus' wrongdoing and lamented Matsya's disgrace:

“Sixty thousand cattle, bred from Matsya's best,
The Kuru leaders guide to Hastina's far-off land!

Glory of the Matsya nation! Save your father's prized cattle,
Hurry your steps, strong your courage, let your vengeance be fierce and intense!

'Against the fierce Trigarta chieftains, Matsya's brave king has gone,
We consider you our lord and savior as our monarch's gallant son!

Rise, Uttara! Defeat the Kurus, guide the stolen cattle back home,
Like a jungle elephant, break through the Kurus' weakened formation!

As the Vina plays music, perfectly tuned by skilled musicians,
Let your bow and arrows showcase your incredible achievements!

Quickly harness your milk-white horses to your loud battle chariot,
Raise your golden lion banner, hurry, prince, to the war!

And as thunder-wielding Indra struck down the fierce and bold asuras,
Strike the Kurus with your arrows tipped with yellow gold feathers!

As the famous and fierce Arjun is the strength of the Kuru family,
You are the protector of the Matsyas and the pride and glory of your kingdom!”

But the prince didn’t go into battle to protect the State from the enemy,
He cheerfully replied to the cowherd, safe under the palace gate:

“I'm familiar with the use of the bow and flying arrow,
I'm also aware of the warrior's duty and the warrior's noble skill,

I would win my father's cattle from the clever enemy's greed,
If a skilled chariot driver could lead my fiery horses,

For my old chariot driver died on the bloody battlefield,
For twenty-eight days we fought, many warrior leaders were killed!

Bring me a skilled driver who can spur the battle horse,
I will raise my lion banner for the uncertain fight!

Dashing through the enemy's horses, lines of elephants and chariots,
I will win back the stolen cows rescued in the battlefield!

And like the thunderous Indra, striking down Danu's sons of old,
I will strike the Kuru leaders, forcing them to retreat to their distant stronghold!

Bhishma and the proud Duryodhan, famous archer Karna,
Drona will also tremble before me and back down in deep shame!

Do those warriors steal Matsya's famous cattle while I'm gone?
But they will feel Matsya's vengeance under my countless arrows!

Bring me a chariot driver, so I can rush into battle,
And in amazement, they will ask—Is this Arjun, famous for his fighting?”

Arjun, disguised as Brihannala, heard Uttara's boast,
And to test his skill and bravery, he prayed to fair Draupadi:

“Tell him that Brihannala will drive his battle chariot,
That as Arjun's charioteer, he has learned how to control the horse,

Say that loyal Brihannala has witnessed many questionable battles,
And will earn his father's cattle in this intense and fierce contest.”

Fair Draupadi, disguised as a servant, obeyed Arjun's secret command,
She humbly stepped before Uttara and prayed in gentle tones:

“Hear me, prince! That Brihannala will lead your battle chariot,
He was Arjun's charioteer, skilled at urging the swift horse,

Trained in battle by the great Arjun, skilled at steering the chariot,
He has followed the armored Arjun on the glorious battlefield,

And when Arjun defeated Khandav, I witnessed this, Uttara,
Brihannala drove his chariot, as I served the queen of Yudhishthir.”

Heard Uttara hesitate, he spoke his quiet and shy thoughts,
“I would trust you, beautiful maiden, with a heart as pure as a lotus, always kind,

But can a poor and unmanly person control the fierce steed?
Can I really expect him, weaker than a woman, to lead in the battle's ranks?”

“There's no need,” Draupadi replied, “Brihannala's favor to ask,
He is as eager as a war-horse for this significant and battle-ready task!

And he's waiting for your sister, she'll tell the guy to hurry,
And he’ll take your father’s cattle, along with the glorious prize of victory!”

Matsya's princess spoke to Arjun, Arjun drove the chariot,
Led the uncertain prince Uttara into the terrifying and uncertain battle!

Arjun drove the prince of Matsya to a gloomy sami tree,
Spoke to the nervous warrior in his confident and fearless voice:

“Prince, your bow and shiny arrows, such nice-looking toys these are,
Hardly do they suit a warrior, and a warrior can’t win favor!

You will find on this sami, listen to my words that never miss,
Grand bows and flying arrows, flags, swords, and suits of armor!

And a bow that even the strongest warriors can hardly draw in battle,
And the boundaries of a kingdom expand when that bow is pulled back!

Tall and slender like a palm tree, perfect for a brave warrior,
Smooth like hard wood, and the tips are golden yellow!

Doubting still, Uttara replied: “In this sami's dark shade
Corpses have been hanging for many seasons, properly wrapped up,

Now I see them all hanging, terrifying, in the open air,
And touching those filthy things, my friend, is more than I can handle!”

“Don’t worry, warrior,” Arjun replied, “because the tree hides no bodies,
Warriors’ weapons, wrapped up like corpses, lie hidden in its dark shade,

And I ask you, prince of Matsya, not to touch anything unclean,
But to bring weapons and arms to a leader and warrior!”

Prince Uttara gracefully descended and climbed the dark, leafy tree,
Arjun from the prince's chariot urged him to hurry and bring the arms to set free,

Then the young prince tore open the wrappings, and the shiny bows revealed themselves
Twisted, sounding like hissing snakes, like the bright stars shining clear!

Seized with wonder, Prince Uttara silently stared at the weapons,
And to his chariot driver, he cried out in trembling tones:

“Whose bow is this, so tall and impressive? Talk to me, my kind friend,
On the wood are golden decorations, finished with gold at both ends?

Whose is this heavy weapon, strong and big in the grip,
On the staff are crafted by artists elephants made of shiny gold?

Surely some great and powerful king owns this other bow of strength,
Set with shiny golden insects on its bright black surface?

Golden suns of extraordinary brightness on this fourth day shine,
Who might be the unknown archer capable of bending this grand bow?

And the fifth is adorned with jewels, gems, and the clearest stones,
Golden fireflies glimmer and shine in the bright light of day!

Who owns these shining arrows with their heads encased in gold,
A thousand bright, feathered arrows, stored in golden quivers?

Next are these with vulture feathers, golden-yellow in color,
Made of iron, sharp and polished; to whom do these true arrows belong?

Next in this dark, shadowy jungle, golden tigers moved,
And these sharp, boar-eared arrows represent some fierce and bold leaders!

Fourth are these seven hundred arrows, their blades shine like crescents,
Thirsting for the blood of enemies, crafted by skilled artisans!

And the fifth are golden-crested, made of tempered steel and bright,
Parrot feathers decorate these arrows, sharpened and incredibly powerful!

Who owns this amazing sword, shaped like a toad on the hilt,
With a toad engraved on the blade, and the scabbard beautifully gold-plated?

Larger and sturdier, this second one is in its tiger-skin sheath,
Adorned with bells and topped with gold, and the blade is shiny and sharp!

Next, this impressive scimitar crafted by the skilled nishadas
comes in a scabbard made of stunning cowhide that protects the bright and polished blade!

Fourth, a long and beautiful weapon shining black in color,
With its softer goat-skin sheath decorated with gold on a blue background!

And the fifth is wide and huge, over thirty fingers long,
Covered in gold and embossed like a snake or a fiery tongue!”

Joyfully replied Arjun: “Check out this bow adorned with gold,
This is the amazing bow, gandiva, fit for a brave warrior!

Gift from heaven! The gods kindly sent this weapon to the archer Arjun,
And the boundaries of a kingdom expand when the bow is drawn!

Next, this heavy, powerful weapon was operated by golden elephants,
With this bow, the strong Bhima has turned the tide of victories!

And the third, inlaid with golden insects by a skillful hand,
It's Yudhishthir's royal weapon crafted by the finest artists!

Next, the bow with a dazzling solar glow is bravely wielded by Nakula in battle,
And the fifth belongs to Sahadeva, adorned with bright gems and jewels!

Listen, prince! These thousand arrows belong to Arjun,
And the darts with crescent blades are for Bhima, brave and strong.

Boar-ear shafts belong to young Nakula, kept in the tiger quiver,
Sahadeva has the arrows adorned with the parrot's feather,

These three-knotted shining arrows, thick and yellow with vulture feathers,
They belong to King Yudhishthir, their tips illuminated by gold.

Listen more! If you want to know about these swords, prince of Matsya,
Arjun's sword is engraved with a toad, always feared by the enemy!

And the sword in the tiger scabbard, huge and powerful,
Only the tiger-waisted Bhima can wield that sword of incredible length!

Next, the golden-hilted sword, black and embossed with gold,
Brave Yudhishthir held onto that sword when the king lost his kingdom!

That sword with the goat-skin sheath is wielded by brave Nakula in battle,
And the shining scimitar is kept by Sahadeva in its cowhide sheath!”

“Your speech is odd,” said Uttara, “and your bright weapons are even stranger.
Are they the weapons of the sons of Pandu, known on earth for their unmatched strength?”

Where are those devout princes now, struck by a terrible misfortune,
Warlike Arjun and noble Yudhishthir, loved and lost by their people?

Where is Bhima with his tiger-like waist, the unbeatable fighter in battle,
And the brave twin brothers skilled in the art of warfare?

Over a game they lost their empire, and we haven't heard from them since,
Or maybe they’re lonely, wandering on some wild and distant shore!

And the noble princess Draupadi, the purest and best of women,
Does she roam with Yudhishthir, unwavering in her heart and mind?”

Proudly answered brave Arjun, and a smile was on his face,
“Not in distant lands do the brothers wander!”

In your father's court, disguised lives Yudhishthir, who is just and good,
Bhima in your father's palace cooks and prepares the food!

Brave Nakula looks after the horses, Sahadeva takes care of the cattle,
While your sister's maidservant helps the beautiful Draupadi shine!

Excuse me, prince, these rings and bangles, excuse my unusual, unmanly appearance,
I'm not some weak, sexless being; Arjun stands before you!

Arjun suited up in his shining armor,
And with a voice like distant thunder commanded the powerful battle chariot!

And the Kurus looked on in amazement at Arjun's flag raised high,
Felt a chill as they heard the deep gandiva echoing again and again!

And they recognized the amazing archer circling the chariot,
And with uncertainty and serious concerns whispered to Drona, the expert in warfare:

"That’s Arjun's monkey-banner, what a sight for my old eyes!
Well, the Kurus recognize the banner like a comet in the sky!"

Hear you not the deep gandiva? How my ear welcomes its sounds!
Do you not see these pointed arrows lying at my feet?

By these arrows, his greeting to his cherished old teacher,
Years of exile now finished, Arjun sends his bold regards!

How the brave prince moves forward! Now I see his figure and face,
Emerging from his shadowy hiding place with a brighter, more confident style,

Well, I know his bow and arrows, and I know his banner well,
And the deep, echoing sounds of his far-resounding horn!

In his shining armor, gleaming in his fearsome helmet,
He shines like the flame of homa fed by proper offerings!”

Arjun watched the Kuru warriors getting ready for the upcoming battle,
He whispered to Prince Uttara as he steered the chariot:

“Stop your horses, O prince of Matsya! for we can't get too close,
Stop your chariot where my arrows can reach and take down the distant enemy,

Let's find the Kuru king, proud Duryodhan, and meet him.
If he falls, we'll win the battle, and the other leaders will back down.

There’s my teacher Drona, Drona’s warrior son is there,
Kripa and the powerful Bhishma, archer Karna, tall and handsome,

I don't look for them in this fight, lead, oh lead your chariot far,
Among the leaders, Duryodhan doesn't move, doesn't move in the lines of battle!

But to save the stolen cattle, he rushes forward in his fear,
While these warriors hang back to protect their king's rear,

But I leave these car-borne warriors; I have other work today,
Confront Duryodhan in battle, reclaim your father’s stolen cattle!”

Matsya's prince then changed direction, leaving the battlefield behind,
Where Duryodhan quickly moved forward with the cattle.

Kripa followed Arjun's path, accurately guessed his deepest thoughts,
Then he spoke to his fellow warriors, urging them to act quickly and engage in battle:

“Listen up, leaders, brave Arjun drives his loud battle chariot,
Against our prince and proud Duryodhan seeks to change the outcome of the war!

Let’s attack our enemy, and may our prince and leader be saved,
Few, except for Indra, the god of battles, can conquer Arjun, who is fierce and brave!

What are Matsya's well-fed cattle, no matter how many there are,
If our king goes down in battle like a ship in a stormy sea!”

Kripa's wise words were in vain! Arjun drove the chariot skillfully,
While his arrows whistled through the air like countless locusts!

Kuru soldiers who were filled with panic neither stood to fight nor ran away,
They stared at the distant Arjun and looked at their fallen comrades!

Arjun strummed his powerful bow, blew his echoing conch,
Weirdly spoke his monkey flag, Kuru warriors recognized it well!

Sankha's voice, gandiva's tones, and the chariot's roaring sound,
Filled the air like distant thunder, shaking the solid ground!

Kuru soldiers ran away in fear, or they lay dead,
And the rescued cattle, mooing and with their tails up, ran away!

Now, filled with joy, King Virata returned to his royal city,
He saw the rescued herds of cattle and the famous Prince Uttara.

Marked the great and brave Arjun, wearing a helmet and encased in armor,
Recognized Yudhishthir and his brothers now as royal princes dressed,

And he greeted the good Yudhishthir, who loved truth and was brave and strong,
And to the valiant Arjun offered the beautiful and young princess of Matsya!

“Excuse me, Your Majesty,” Arjun replied, “but I cannot take as my bride,
the young and beautiful princess of Matsya, whom I love with my father's pride,

She has often met me waiting in the inner palace hall,
Like a daughter waiting on her father's loving call!

I have trained her kokil accents, taught her beginner steps in dance,
Watched her skills and different charms enhance all her natural beauty!

She is pure in both thought and action, as innocent as my hero boy,
Grant her to my son, O king, as his wife and source of happiness!

Abhimanyu trained for battle, a striking young man with a face like a god,
Krishna's sister, fair Subhadra, gave birth to this noble child!

Worthy of your young daughter, pure in heart and untouched,
Grant it, sir, that my Abhimanyu may marry your lovely child!”

Answered Matsya's noble king with a happy and grateful heart:
“Words like these suit your goodness; you have truly done your part well!

"Whatever you say, Arjun; allied to Pandu's lineage,
Matsya's royal family is respected, and the king of Matsya is pleased!”

Good Yudhishthir heard the news, and he gladly agreed,
Sending friendly invitations to distant chiefs and kings.

In the town of Upa-plavya, the best of fair Matsya's towns,
Lived the devout brothers who welcomed every royal guest.

Came to them Kasi's king and his armed soldiers came,
And the king of beautiful Panchala with his sons known for their valor,

Came the sons of beautiful Draupadi, skilled in the art of war,
Other leaders and offerings arrived from places near and far.

Krishna, adorned with floral garlands, arrived with his older brother,
And his beautiful sister Subhadra, Arjun's beloved and yearning lady,

Arjun's brave son Abhimanyu arrived in his decorated chariot,
Accompanied by elephants and cavalry, soldiers skilled in the art of battle.

Vrishnis from the sea-surrounded Dwarka, famous Andhakas,
Bhojas from the powerful Chumbal came with the righteous Krishna,

He gave the brave sons of Pandu gifts that were luxurious and unique,
Jewels, gold, expensive clothes, and beautiful servants and maidens.

With its charming and joyful greetings, the wedding day finally arrived,
The Matsya maidens were cheerful and the Pandav brothers happy!

Conch shells and cymbals, horns and trumpets played soft and sweet music,
In Virata's royal palace, in the busy marketplace and street!

And they hunt the jungle red deer, set the large table,
And make the refreshing palm drink, with the finest dishes ready!

Mimes and actors entertain the crowd, bards recite the old songs,
The glories of heroic families are extended by the minstrels' tunes!

And women from Matsya, with full figures, shaped like jasmine and faces like lotus,
Wearing pearls and golden garlands, joyfully embodying the bridal beauty!

Surrounded by those royal women, all of whom are beautiful and fair,
But the fairest of them all is Draupadi, shining with a beauty that's unique and rare!

Stately women and cheerful girls guide the young and gentle bride,
Like goddesses surrounding Indra's daughter in her glory!

Arjun from the Matsya king takes the beautiful princess,
For his son with fair Subhadra, raised by Krishna's loving care,

With a godlike grace, Yudhishthir stands by loyal Arjun's side,
As a father takes his daughter, takes the young and beautiful bride,

Joins her hands with Abhimanyu's, and with cake and cooked rice,
On the altar brightly burning is the sacred sacrifice.

Matsya's king offered the groom lavish and expensive gifts,
He gave two hundred elephants and seven thousand of the finest horses,

Poured drinks on the altar, gave his gold to the priests,
Gave the sons of Pandu vast land and wealth beyond measure!

With a righteous hand, Yudhishthir, sincere in heart and clear in mind,
Gave his gifts, in gold and clothing, cattle and wealth of every kind,

Costly chariots, luxurious beds, robes woven with threads of gold,
Rich foods and sweet treats, drinks that are the finest and the best,

He gave land to the Brahmin, cattle to the hardworking farmer,
Horses to the warrior, and gifts and grain to the people,

And the city of the Matsyas, overflowing with unimaginable riches,
Sparkled with celebration and happiness, adorned with flags and golden fabrics!

The banishment period was over, and Yudhishthir insisted that the kingdom of Indra-prastha be returned to him. The old Dhritarashtra, his queen, and the wise, elderly advisors supported the restoration, but the envious Duryodhan genuinely despised his cousins and refused to compromise. As a result, all negotiations failed, and both sides began preparing for the bloodiest and most devastating battle ever seen in Northern India.

The sections translated in this Book are from Sections i, ii, iii, xciv, cxxiv, and cxxvi of Book v of the original text.

Joy and song and wedding music filled the night with sound,
Young hearts beat with happiness, love-filled looks shone bright,

But when the young, white-robed Ushas opened the golden gates of day,
The chieftains made their way to Virata's council chamber, deep in thought.

Stones set into the arch and pillar sparkled in the bright dawn,
Colorful decorations and elegant garlands glimmered on the golden cushions!

Matsya's king, Panchala's ruler, top spots of honor claim,
Krishna too and Valadeva, Dwarka's leaders of noble fame!

By them sat the brave Satyaki from the ocean-bound western shore,
And the godlike sons of Pandu,—days of dark concealment over,

Youthful princes in their glory filled Virata's royal hall,
Brave sons of brave fathers, daring in battle, noble and tall!

In their jewel-studded outfits, the warriors arrived confidently,
Until the council chamber sparkled like a starry night sky!

Kind are the greetings, sweet is the conversation, soft do the golden moments pass,
Until focused on more serious matters, everyone turns their gaze to Krishna,

Krishna, with his inner vision, then surveyed the situation,
And shared his thoughts with the kings in serious tones:

“Known to all, you mighty rulers! May your glory last forever!
True to his promise, Yudhishthir has completed his long exile,

Twelve long years wandering with fair Draupadi in the unmarked jungle,
And a year in servitude at Virata's palace.

He has kept his promise, faced suffering, sorrow, and shame,
And he asks, gathered kings, that you now name his duty!

For he doesn't stray from his responsibility to the kingdom of the sky to gain,
Values his home more than an empire, as long as his actions are free from sin,

Loss of kingdom, wealth, and glory only show his greater virtues,
Thoughts of peace and not of anger guide the good Yudhishthir!

Mark again the sleepless anger and the unyielding hate
Harbored by the proud Duryodhan driven by his unfortunate fate,

From childhood, whether by fire or poison, shameless trickery or random chance,
He has brought about dark destruction, through deception and underhanded schemes!

Ponder well, you gracious rulers, with a fair and righteous mind,
Help Yudhishthir with your advice, with your kindness and blessings.

Should the noble son of Pandu pursue his rights through open conflict,
Seek the support of just kings and local leaders from near and far?

Should he strike down his old enemies, experts in every deceitful trick,
Relentless in their vengeance, unforgiving in their hearts?

Should he send a message to the proud, unyielding enemy,
And try to find out Duryodhan's arrogant intentions through a messenger?

Should he send a noble envoy, skilled in virtue, honest and wise,
With his greetings to Duryodhan in a humble and friendly manner?

Ask him to bring back the kingdom by the holy Jumna's shore?
Either king can rule his empire like in the good old days!”

Krishna spoke words of wisdom filled with his calm thoughts,
For he sought Yudhishthir's rightful claim through peace, not violence.

Krishna's older brother Valadeva, a strong leader who carried the plow,
Stood up and spoke, the blood of the Vrishnis staining his proud forehead:

“You have listened, devout rulers, to my brother's kind word,
He has love for the good Yudhishthir and for the proud lord of Hastinapura,

For his land by the deep blue Jumna, good Yudhishthir once reigned,
Brave Duryodhan ruled his kingdom by the vibrant Ganga's bank,

And once again, in love and friendship, either prince can rule his portion,
Because the lands are wide and fertile, and each kingdom is wealthy and beautiful!

Speed the messenger to Hastina with our love and warm greetings,
Let him express Yudhishthir's wishes and find out Duryodhan's thoughts,

Make your respects to Bhishma and to Drona, who is brave and true,
To Kripa, the archer Karna, and to leaders both young and old,

To the sons of Dhritarashtra, leaders of the Kuru territory,
Upright in their royal responsibilities, brave and powerful,

To the princes and city officials gathered in the council hall,
Let him express Yudhishthir's wishes, advocate for Yudhishthir's cause to everyone.

Don't speak out of pointless anger, because Duryodhan is in control,
And Yudhishthir's anger would be foolish in this unfortunate and unlucky time!

By his closest friends persuaded not to act, but driven by anger or madness,
He has gambled away his empire; may we forgive his foolishness!

Indra-prastha's vast empire is now what Duryodhan considers his,
Through his tears and gentle pleas, let Yudhishthir pursue the throne,

Open war isn't what I recommend; I humbly seek Duryodhan's favor,
War won't bring back the empire, nor can it replace the gambler's loss!

Thus with cold and harsh honesty, strong Valadeva shouted,
Angry, the brave Satyaki rose and fiercely replied to him:

“Shame on the hesitant leader who defends Duryodhan’s cause,
Timid advice, Valadeva, shows a woman’s fearful heart!

Often from warrior lineage comes a weak leader who submits,
Just like a dried-up, unproductive sapling grows from a fruitful tree!

From a heart so weak and cowardly, weak and cowardly words must come,
Kings in their pride and glory pay no attention to such lowly advice!

Could you, heartless Valadeva, among these famous leaders,
Place this undeserved blame on pious-hearted Yudhishthir?

Challenged by his clever enemy and faced with bad luck,
Relying on their beliefs, Yudhishthir played a fair game and lost!

Challenge from a crowned monarch can a crowned king decline,
Can a Kshatriya warrior see through deception in the sons of a royal family?

Nathless, he gave up his empire, staying true to his faith and promises,
Living for years in the untamed forests, the mighty lord of Indra-prastha!

Beyond his years of tired exile, he now takes back his old kingdom,
Taking it not as a humble beggar, but as a strong king and warrior!

After a year of being hidden away, brave Yudhishthir takes his rightful place,
Arrogant Duryodhan now has to give up the jeweled throne of Indra-prastha!

Bhishma advises, Drona pushes, Kripa begs for what's right but to no avail,
Dishonest Duryodhan won't achieve his wicked victory through deceitful gains!

Open war I therefore advise, brutal and unyielding war,
Grace we do not seek when we encounter them charging in our battle-car!

And our weapons, not pleas, will make our enemies surrender,
Surrender Yudhishthir's rightful kingdom or they will die in battle!

False Duryodhan and his forces crumble under the impact of our battle,
Just like a shattered rock falls beneath a bolt of thunder!

Who will face the armored Arjun in the bloody battlefield,
Krishna with his glowing discus riding in his chariot?

Who will face the twin-born brothers led by the mighty Bhima,
And the vengeful leader Satyaki with his fearsome bow and arrows?

Ancient Drupad wields his weapon unmatched in battle,
And his fearless son, born of Fire, possesses a mighty strength that consumes all!

Abhimanyu, the son of Arjun, whom the beautiful Subhadra gave birth to,
And whose joyful marriage brought us from the distant shores of Dwarka.

Men on Earth or shining immortals can’t match the youthful hero,
When Abhimanyu leads the charge with greater skill than Arjun!

Dhritarashtra's sons we defeat and Gandhara's clever son,
We conquer Karna, though the world honors him for his heroic actions.

Win the hard-fought battle and restore Yudhishthir's own,
Put the virtuous exile on his father's old throne!

And Satyaki believes that killing a mortal enemy isn't a sin,
But asking for mercy from enemies would be a terrible sin and misery!

We quickly get to our duty, let our wicked enemies surrender,
Or the fiery son of Sini will face them on the battlefield!”

Fair Panchala's ancient king revealed his inner thoughts,
From his lips, words of wisdom flowed with a graceful tone:

"Much I fear you speak the truth, tough is Kuru's stubborn clan,
Useless is the hope, the effort wasted, to seek Duryodhan's favor!"

Dhritarashtra pleads in vain, his luck is weak and unreliable,
Ancient Bhishma, righteous Drona, cannot prevent this deadly war,

Archer Karna is eager for a fight, driven by jealousy and pride,
Cunning Sakuni, deceitful and sly, continues to back Duryodhan's side!

Vain is Valadeva's advice, our envoy will plead in vain,
Proud Duryodhan won't give up half his empire in his endless greed,

In his pride, he sees our gentleness as weak and cowardly fear,
And our plea will boost his glory, making his arrogance even stronger!

Therefore, let our many messengers travel near and far,
Seek alliances with all rulers for the great upcoming war,

To the brave and noble leaders, to nations in the east and west,
North and south, let our message and request reach the fighting races!

Meanwhile, we bring peace and friendship before Duryodhan,
And my priest will go to Hastina, trying to earn Duryodhan's favor,

If he brings peace to Indra-prastha, the land will thrive,
Or our forces will shake the empire from the east to the west coast!”

Vainly were Panchala's Brahmins sent with messages of peace,
Vainly urged Hastina's elders that the deadly feud should stop,

Proud Duryodhan wouldn't give his relatives their rightful share,
Pandu's sons refused to back down, because they had the courage to take a stand!

Fatal war and devastating destruction were commanded by the powerful gods,
Until the kings and armed nations covered the bloody and charred ground!

Krishna, in his noble quest, sought wisdom from above,
He tried to prevent the war between nations and resolve the conflict with love!

And to the distant palace of Hastinapur, Krishna went to seek peace,
He raised his voice against the killing, pleading for the fighting and conflict to end!

Silent sat the listening chieftains in Hastina's council hall,
With the voice of rolling thunder, Krishna spoke to them all:

“Listen, powerful Dhrita-rashtra, king of the ancient Kuru,
Don’t seek war and the death of family; I bring a message of peace and love!”

'Among the many nations of the vast earth, Bharats excel in their worth,
Love and kindness, pure virtue, reside in the Kuru elders,'

Father of our great nation, now at peace after life's struggles,
It is not fitting that sin or falsehood should tarnish your noble heart!

For your sons, in their wicked rage, are trying to wrong their own family,
And are denying the throne and kingdom that rightfully belong to them,

And a danger arises like the comet's ominous fire,
Slaughtered relatives, bleeding nations, will soon fuel its deadly rage!

Stretch out your hands, O Kuru king! Show your truth and holy grace,
Man of peace! Stop the killing and protect your ancient lineage.

Yet hold back your fiery children, for they follow your commands,
I will sway Pandu's honest sons with sweet and gentle persuasion.

It's for your benefit, Kuru king! that the deadly conflict should end,
Brave Duryodhan, good Yudhishthir, rule in unhindered peace,

Pandu's sons are brave and powerful,
Indra won't be able to shake your empire as long as they protect the Kuru land!

Bhishma is the stronghold of your kingdom, brave Drona leads the battle,
Karna is unmatched with his arrows, Kripa is incomparable in his chariot,

Let Yudhishthir and strong Bhima stand with these brave warriors,
And let helmet-wearing Arjun protect the holy Kuru land,

Who will challenge your strength from ocean to ocean,
Ruler of a global empire, king of kings and free nations?

Sons and grandsons, friends and family will gather around you in a circle,
And a group of devoted heroes will protect their legendary hero-king!

Dhritarashtra's grand decrees will declare his unlimited power,
Countries follow his just commands, and the kings will comply with his wishes!

If this agreement is rejected and the desire for war takes over,
Soon, within these old chambers, the sound of crying will echo!

Grant your children victory and the sons of Pandu slain,
You care for Pandu's children, and their death must bring you pain!

But the Pandavas, skilled in battle, are famous everywhere,
And I believe that the slaughter of your family and children will taint this war,

Sons and grandsons, beloved princes, you will never see again,
Brave relatives and chariot-riding leaders will cover the bloody plain!

Ponder still, O ancient king! Leaders of every distant land,
Nations from the furthest corners come together to seek their fate,

Father of a just nation! Save the leaders of the land,
On the armed and destined nations, old man, extend your saving hand!

Say the word, and at your command, leaders of every rival group
Not the bloody battlefield, but the celebration table will come together,

Dressed in jewels and adorned with garlands, they will drink the red wine,
Greet their enemies with mutual kindness, and celebrate your holy name and yours!

Think, O man of many seasons! When good Pandu left this throne,
And you cared for his helpless, loving orphans as if they were your own,