Stories of the Great Bharata - A Retelling

Arc 1 – Sabhākriyā and Lokapāla Sabhāvarṇana - Chapter 1 - Maya-Sabhā

Vaiśampāyana said:

When the fire had stilled and the forest lay consumed, Maya Dānava—he who had been spared from the flames that devoured all—approached Arjuna in the presence of Kṛṣṇa. Bowing low, palms joined in reverence, he addressed the Pāṇḍava with words gentle and grateful.

“O son of Kuntī,” said he, “thou hast delivered me from the wrath of the Fire-god, and from Kṛṣṇa's dazzling wrath, like a raft from a flood. Command me now—what shall I do in return?”

Arjuna, ever humble and noble in speech, replied:

“O mighty Asura, thy gratitude itself is gift enough.

We are pleased with thy spirit and thy friendship.

Go freely, with our goodwill behind thee.

Only be kind to us, as we have been kind to thee.”

But Maya would not be dismissed so easily. With shining eyes and voice imbued with fervor, he insisted:

“O tiger among men, thy words are worthy of a hero.

Yet, being a craftsman unmatched, an architect of wonders,

A Viśvakarman among Dānavas am I—

And my heart longs to repay thee with my art.”

Arjuna then looked upon him with gentleness and said:

“If you deem yourself saved by my hand,

Then let your gift be not to me but to Govinda.

Let Him be the one you serve, for He is the wellspring of all.”

Hearing this, the Supreme Lord Kṛṣṇa—the lotus-eyed, knower of time and destiny—reflected silently for a moment. Then he spoke, his voice calm and filled with command:

“O Maya, son of Diti, peerless in design,

If your heart is set on returning this favor,

Then build a sabhā, a court of wonder,

Worthy of Dharma’s throne and beyond mortal imitation.

Let it hold the mystery of the asuras,

The splendor of the gods,

And the grace of earthly kings.

Let it be unlike any known to men.”

Vaiśampāyana continued:

Thus spoken to by the Lord of the Yādavas, Maya was filled with joy. He bowed again and took up the task with reverent fervor. In due time, he was introduced to Dharmarāja Yudhiṣṭhira by Kṛṣṇa and Arjuna, and the king received him with great respect, honoring him as one honors a sage or seer.

Then Maya, noble-hearted and eager to serve, narrated to the sons of Pāṇḍu the tale of the Dānava Vrishaparvan, as one offering a garland of memory. Thereafter, choosing an auspicious day, he began his sacred work.

He performed the pratiṣṭhā rites with full ceremony,

Pouring sweetened milk upon the earth,

Feeding thousands of Brahmanas with rich offerings,

And giving away gifts of gold, cloth, and gems.

Upon a land five thousand cubits wide,

Delightful, smooth, and blessed by nature’s grace,

He measured space and spirit alike—

A site fit for a sabhā of eternal fame.

Vaiśampāyana said:

Janārdana, the lord of the Yādavas, the One worthy of all worship—He who moves among men yet is beyond all mortal bindings—remained at Khandavaprastha for a time, honored always with love and devotion by the sons of Prithā.

But in time, his heart turned toward his father. That lotus-eyed scion of the Vrishni race, resplendent like the sun in the company of the five Pāṇḍavas, resolved to take his leave.

He first saluted Yudhiṣṭhira, king of dharma, and bowed before Kuntī, his father’s sister. The wise Prithā, full of maternal affection, blessed him with a touch to the head and a tearful smile.

She touched his curls with trembling hands,

And kissed his brow with reverence deep.

“Go forth, O child of Dvārakā’s line,

Let peace and strength thy footsteps keep.”

Then Kṛṣṇa approached his own sister Subhadrā, and his glance softened with tenderness. He embraced her lovingly and spoke brief but noble words—truthful, precise, and filled with virtue. His eyes glistened with tears unfallen, for though his heart was firm, it beat with bonds of love.

Subhadrā, bending low in return, offered him worship with folded palms and humble words. She entrusted him with messages to their kin in Dvārakā, her voice thick with longing.

“Say to my father, my kinsmen bright—

I thrive beneath the Pāṇḍavas’ light.

May Dvārakā be safe and still,

And may your will align with will.”

Then Kṛṣṇa turned to Draupadī, the dark-eyed queen of fortune, and to Dhaumya, the noble priest. To Dhaumya he offered due reverence, and to Draupadī—words of comfort and farewell, veiled in grace.

Having thus bid farewell to all, the Mighty-armed Mādhava prepared for his journey. Arjuna, ever by his side, accompanied him to the outer court.

There stood the five sons of Pāṇḍu, their faces lit by the joy of kinship. Surrounded by them, Kṛṣṇa shone resplendent—like Indra in the midst of the gods, his Garuḍa-bannered presence a light among heroes.

Bathed and adorned with fragrant oil,

With gems that mocked the midday sun,

He prayed to gods and sages wise—

That all his path be rightly done.

Kṛṣṇa, the slayer of Madhu, completed all the rites of departure. He worshipped the gods with mantras, offered flowers and incense, and bowed with humility. Brahmanas, pure in conduct and versed in sacred lore, were honored with curds, fruits, roasted grains, and vessels brimming with offerings.

“Let blessings fall from sacred lips,

Let dharma mark the road I take.

May I return when time has turned—

With joy unbroken in my wake.”

After giving gifts of wealth and receiving their benedictions, Kṛṣṇa circled them with respectful steps, his heart steady and radiant like a flame undisturbed.

Vaiśampāyana said:

Then He of the Garuḍa-banner, Madhusūdana, prepared to depart. Ascending his golden chariot—swift as thought, adorned with celestial symbols and divine arms—Kṛṣṇa yoked unto it his steeds: Śaivya and Sugrīva, radiant and tireless. The sun shone brighter upon the earth as if saluting its master.

Upon his car of molten gold,

Bearing mace and discus bold,

With Śārṅga bow and moonbright sword,

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Rode the Eternal, Lotus-Lord.

It was an hour chosen with wisdom—a lunar day blessed with auspicious stars. All omens sang of harmony.

Out of affection, King Yudhiṣṭhira ascended the chariot behind Kṛṣṇa and gently displaced the renowned charioteer Dāruka, taking the reins into his own royal hands. Arjuna, with long arms like temple pillars, circled the car and stood fanning Kṛṣṇa with a white cāmara, its handle made of gold.

Bhīma followed close behind, flanked by the twin sons of Mādrī—Nakula and Sahadeva—while priests, elders, and citizens trailed in a solemn procession. That moment, O King, was like a scene from the heavenly realms: Govinda moving amidst his devotees, shining as a guru among disciples.

As Indra, king of storm and sky,

Walks with Maruts standing by,

So did Kṛṣṇa, calm and mild,

Shine among the Pāṇḍavas—love’s own child.

Then Kṛṣṇa embraced Arjuna with deep affection and bowed to Yudhiṣṭhira and Bhīma. He embraced Nakula and Sahadeva, and they returned his greeting with folded palms and reverence in their hearts.

When they had traveled about half a yojana—the road still fresh with dust from Kṛṣṇa’s wheels—Govinda, that knower of dharma, gently asked Yudhiṣṭhira to go no farther.

He bowed low before Dharmarāja, but Yudhiṣṭhira swiftly raised him and kissed his head, saying softly:

“Go now, O soul of Yadu's line,

Let joy and peace upon thee shine.

Return to us when time is right—

Our hearts shall wait, our lamps be light.”

Kṛṣṇa, smiling yet firm, promised to return in proper time and, with soft persuasion, prevented them from walking further by foot. He departed like Indra returning to Amarāvati, and the Pāṇḍavas watched, their gaze unblinking, their hearts stretched across the road behind him.

Though form was gone beyond their sight,

Their minds still followed him in flight.

And though the chariot disappeared,

Their souls, with longing, still stood near.

Reluctantly, with hearts still turned toward the vanishing chariot, the sons of Prithā returned to their city. But their steps were heavy with longing.

Meanwhile, Sātyaki, the lion among men, followed closely behind the chariot of his lord. And soon, Kṛṣṇa—Sauri, son of Devakī—reached glorious Dvārakā, swift as Garuḍa across the heavens.

Vaiśampāyana continued:

Meanwhile, King Yudhiṣṭhira the just—whose glory neither fades with time nor dims with fate—entered his city of Khandavaprastha, flanked by his mighty brothers and attended by friends devoted and wise.

Having discharged his royal duties and bid farewell to kinsmen, sons, and counselors, the king sought the solace of the inner chambers. There, in the presence of his radiant queen Draupadī, he found repose—not in power, but in gentle companionship.

Beneath the banners of state and fame,

He laid aside the crown and name.

And in her gaze, both fierce and kind,

The king unburdened heart and mind.

Even so, far across the sacred rivers and sunlit plains, Kṛṣṇa of the Yādavas reached the gleaming gates of Dvārakā. There, like the ocean returning to its shore, Janārdana entered his home.

The citizens greeted him with joy, and the foremost among the Vrṣṇis, including Ugrasena the aged king, rose to honor him with full rites of welcome. Kṛṣṇa, lotus-eyed and humble in greatness, received it all with a heart full of peace.

He bowed before Vasudeva, his sire,

And touched Devakī’s feet with fire.

He clasped Balarāma, the elder strong—

The plough-armed lord of right and wrong.

Then came his sons and nephews—Pradyumna, fierce and fair; Śāmba, swift in wrath; Niśātha and Carudeṣṇa, valorous youths; Gada, Aniruddha, and Bhānu. One by one, he embraced them all, like the moon drawing close the stars of its own firmament.

Love flowed not in word but deed,

In touch and glance and silent need.

The Lord of Dvārakā gave his grace

In arms that circled each warrior’s face.

Then, after taking leave of the elders—those pillars of the clan whose wisdom anchored its strength—Govinda entered the private chambers of Rukmiṇī, jewel among women, his first and foremost queen.

Vaiśampāyana said:

Then Maya Dānava, master of celestial architecture and seer of hidden treasures, addressed Arjuna with reverence, his voice low yet filled with purpose.

“O Partha,” he said, “I now take leave of thee,

But shall return with speed and certainty.

For in the north, near Kailāsa's crest,

Lies wealth of worlds—the gods' bequest.”

He spoke of the ancient mountains—of Kailāsa, lord of snow and silence, and Maināka, the golden-rooted peak. There, upon the banks of the sacred Vindu lake, the Dānavas once performed a great sacrifice. It was in that blessed region that Maya had long ago gathered rare and radiant vanda—a collection of gleaming gems, minerals, and materials unknown to mortals—variegated and wondrous.

“These,” said Maya, “were stored in the palace of the truthful Vrishaparvan, king among Dānavas. If they remain untouched by time or fire, I shall bring them for thy sabhā.”

He continued, revealing ancient secrets lost even to gods:

“Within the lake of Vindu lies a club—

No ordinary weapon of iron or wood,

But one that felled a hundred kings,

And bears the strength of a hundred thousand swings.

Golden-knobbed and mountain-weighted,

It waits, unmoved, by death created.

For Bhīma shall it rise again—

As Gāṇḍīva suits thy warrior vein.”

And more still he spoke—of a great conch-shell, divine and thunder-voiced, known as Devadatta, born of Varuṇa’s waters. That shell, which shall one day thunder through battlefields in Arjuna’s hand, was hidden beneath the sacred lake.

“Partha,” Maya said, “these boons I shall bestow—

The hall of wonders, and gifts from below.

Weapons divine and gems from the height—

For the sons of Prithā, children of light.”

Having spoken thus, the great Asura departed, his path veering northeast toward the high peaks where no man treads. There, Vaiśampāyana said, stands the towering Hiraṇya-śṛṅga, the "Golden Horn," a peak fashioned of living gems, near the divine lake Vindu.

That land is no ordinary place.

There, Bhagiratha once stood still,

In tapas firm, with iron will,

To draw down Gaṅgā from the skies—

A stream of heaven, for mortal eyes.

There Indra, of a thousand eyes,

Performed a hundred sacrifice.

Altars of gold and gem-staked grounds—

No earthly rite, no mortal bounds.

There too does Mahādeva, the eternal Lord, dwell—silent, fiery, and still, having created all beings. Thousands of spirits, ascetics, and divine beings worship him in eternal vigil.

There, at the ends of yugas, Nara and Nārāyaṇa, Brahmā, Yama, and Sthāṇu, the unchanging one, perform eternal sacrifices for the balance of the worlds.

And there, in ages lost to time,

Keśava came, both vast and prime.

With stakes of gold and garlands strung,

He offered rites while hymns were sung.

Thousands upon thousands of yajña-stambhas, adorned with divine flame and gold, were set there by Viṣṇu himself in his devotion to dharma and the welfare of all beings.

Thus did Maya Dānava depart—carrying with him not just gems and weapons, but the memory of an age when gods walked the mountains, and sacrifices bridged heaven and earth.

Vaiśampāyana said:

Then, O King, the dharmic monarch Yudhiṣṭhira—foremost of men, ever anchored in truth—prepared to enter the Māyā-sabhā, the wondrous palace born of fire and spell. But first, in accordance with righteous conduct and ancient law, he performed a sacred act of hospitality.

Ten thousand Brāhmaṇas he fed that day,

With milk and rice, and honeyed whey;

With fruits and roots from forest’s floor,

And meats from wilds, both cooked and pure.

The food was prepared with sesame and jībanti herbs, seasoned with ghee and flavored with compassion. There were varied viands fit to be sucked, diverse meats, and numerous drinks, all served in vessels clean and fine.

To each Brāhmaṇa, Yudhiṣṭhira gave a thousand kine, their bells chiming like mantras in the sacred breeze. And each guest received new garments, fragrant garlands, and respectful words.

“What an auspicious day is this!”

Thus rose the Brāhmaṇas’ bliss—

Their voices soared in joy so high

It seemed to echo through the sky.

Then, having honored gods with incense, music, and perfumes, the King of Dharma entered the great hall. Around him stood mimes, acrobats, prizefighters, and singers of praise, all displaying their gifts in celebration.

Like Indra entering Amarāvati,

With Maruts round and music free,

So strode Yudhiṣṭhira, calm and bright,

A mortal king with dharma’s light.

Within that gleaming sabhā, seats were filled not only by warriors and princes, but by ṛṣis, kings, and sages from every direction. They came like rivers flowing into an ocean of wisdom.

Among them sat:

Asita, Devala, Satya, and Sarpamāli—knowers of the Vedas;

Arvāvasu, Sumitra, Maitreya, Śunaka, and Vālī;

Vāka, Dālbhya, Sthūlaśira, and Kṛṣṇa Dvaipāyana himself;

Śuka, Sumantu, Jaimini, Paila, and his many disciples;

Tittiri, Yājñavalkya, Loma-harṣaṇa and his son;

Āpśuhomya, Dhaumya, Animandavya, Kauśika, and Dāmoṣṇīṣa;

Traivali, Parṇāda, Varāyanuka, and Mauṅjāyana;

Vāyubhākṣa, Pārāśarya, Śārikā, Bālīvaka, and Śīlivāka;

Satyapāla, Kṛtasrama, Jātukarṇa, and Śikhavat;

Alamvā, Pārijātaka, Parvata, and the long-lived Mārkaṇḍeya;

Pavitrapāṇi, Savarṇa, Bhāluki, and Gālava;

Jāṅgbandhu, Raibhya, Kopavega, and Bhṛgu;

Harivabhrū, Kauṇḍinya, Vabhrumālī, and Sanātana;

Kākṣivat, Āśija, Naciketā, and Gautama;

Paiṅga, Varāha, Śaunaka, and Śāṇḍilya;

Kukūra, Venujaṅgha, Kālāpa, and Kāṭha—

And countless others of immeasurable tapas, flawless conduct, and Vedic mastery, all seated in reverence among the sons of Pāṇḍu.

Their words were honeyed with scripture and song,

Their thoughts aligned with right and wrong.

They blessed the hall and blessed the king,

And dharma’s hymns began to ring.

Thus did Yudhiṣṭhira, the upholder of dharma, enter his enchanted hall, not as a conqueror of worlds, but as a servant of virtue—accompanied by sages, warriors, and the blessings of the three worlds.

Vaiśampāyana said:

Thus, in the radiant hall of illusion—crafted by Maya, blessed by Kṛṣṇa, and sanctified by charity—gathered not only sages of divine austerity but also Kṣatriya monarchs, famed across the lands for strength, lineage, and valor. These kings, drawn from every corner of the Earth, assembled in homage to Dharmarāja Yudhiṣṭhira, their presence reflecting his renown.

From lands of north and kingdoms east,

From Vindhya’s slopes to oceans vast,

They came—both allies and former foes—

To honor where true virtue flows.

Among them were the noble:

Mujaketu, righteous and firm;

Vivarddhana and Sangrāmjita, famed in war;

Durmukha and the mighty Ugrasena;

Kakṣasena, lord of the Earth;

Kṣemaka, unconquered in battle;

Kamāṭha of Kāmboja, and Kampana, whose very name struck terror into the hearts of the Yavanas, as Indra’s thunderbolt does the Kalakeyas.

There too were:

Jatāsura, the king of the Madrakas, Kunti, and Pulinda of the Kirātas;

The kings of Aṅga, Vaṅga, Pāṇḍrya, Udhāra, and Andhaka;

Sumitra and Śaivya, slayer of foes;

Sumanas, ruler of the northern highlands;

Chāṇūra, lord of the Yavanas;

Devarāta, Bhoja, and Bhīmaratha;

Śrutāyudha, mighty king of Kaliṅga;

Jayasena of Magadha, Sukarman, and Cekitāna;

The heroic Puru, Ketumat, Vasudāna, Vaideha, and Kṛtakṣaṇa;

And others still: Sudharmā, Aniruddha, Śrutāyu, and Anūparāja, invincible all.

Handsome was Karmajit, valiant and young;

And Śiśupāla came, with son and sword.

From the Vrishni clan came warriors bright—

Their armor gleamed like stars at night.

These sons of the Vrṣṇis—Āhuka, Vipṛthu, Sada, Śārana, Akrūra, Kṛtavarman, and Sātyaka, son of Śini—stood in strength and beauty equal to the gods.

There also came Bhīṣmaka, Ankṛti, and Dyumatsena, mighty archers and chariot warriors, along with the renowned Kaikeyas and Yajñasena of the Somaka line.

These lords of men, with golden spears,

Who once wore bark and bore no crown,

Having trained beneath Arjuna’s eye,

Now stood in glory and renown.

Even the youthful princes of the Vrishni race—Pradyumna, son of Rukmini, Sāmba, Yuyudhāna, Sudharmā, Aniruddha, and Śaivya—each one a lion on the field of arms, all who had once learned the art of war at Arjuna’s side—now gathered like stars encircling the moon of Dharma.

And beyond men and monarchs, there arrived divine musicians:

Tumvuru, the friend of Dhanañjaya,

And Cittasena, lord among Gandharvas,

Came with celestial ministers bright—

Their voices flowing like sacred night.

Accompanied by Kinnaras, skilled in rhythm and celestial melody, they sang and played upon divine instruments. Their music floated through the jeweled air, mingling with the murmur of fountains and the silence of sages. The sons of Pāṇḍu and the assembled ṛṣis were gladdened by this blissful harmony.

In that sabhā of gem and spell,

Where sages sat and music fell,

The kings of earth and stars above

Waited on Dharma’s son with love.

So radiant was this assembly, O King, that it mirrored the halls of heaven itself, where the devas gather before Brahmā. And in that wondrous hall, Yudhiṣṭhira sat like Indra among gods, while truth, beauty, and dharma shone all around him.