novelraw Arc 3 - Dijvijaya and Rājasūya Parva - Chapter 1 - Arjuna’s and Bhīma’s Campaign
Arc 3 - Dijvijaya and Rājasūya Parva - Chapter 1 - Arjuna’s and Bhīma’s Campaign
Vaiśampāyana said:
When Arjuna had received the divine gifts—the mighty bow that none could string, the two inexhaustible quivers, the swift celestial chariot with its golden standard, and also the wondrous assembly hall built by Maya—he approached his elder brother Yudhiṣṭhira with reverence and clarity of purpose.
With eyes bright with resolve, the son of Kuntī spoke these words, his voice steady and filled with noble ambition:
“Weapons are ours, and allies firm,
Strength and fame like fire do burn.
Lands and halls and wealth we hold—
Yet empty lies our treasury’s gold.
O king, let now the world be shown
The glory of this royal throne.
I seek to ride beneath the moon,
When stars and omens speak of boon—
To the North, where Kuvera reigns,
To claim the tribute dharma gains.”
Thus did Dhanañjaya, the wielder of celestial arms and conqueror of foes, express his intent—not out of greed, but to fulfill rājasūya dharma, to prepare the sovereign path for Yudhiṣṭhira’s imperial sacrifice.
Vaiśampāyana continued:
King Yudhiṣṭhira, the just and wise, listened calmly. His gaze steady, his heart filled with affection and hope, he answered Arjuna in a voice deep with blessing:
“O bull among the Bharatas,
Go forth with sacred mantras chanted,
Let Brāhmaṇas bless thy every step,
So foes may fall and friends be granted.
Let righteousness attend thy sword,
Let conquest wear the crown of grace.
May victory, O son of Pritha,
Walk beside thee in every place.”
With that solemn approval, Arjuna prepared to set out on his digvijaya—the righteous conquest of the North, in the name of dharma and royal sacrifice.
Thus addressed and blessed by his elder brother, Arjuna, radiant with divine purpose, ascended his celestial chariot—crafted by the will of Agni, glowing with marvels beyond mortal art. With banners high and warriors behind him, he set out for the North, where the Lord of Treasures, Kuvera, holds sway over golden peaks and secret cities.
And Bhīmasena, the iron-limbed slayer of foes, took leave with reverence and surged eastward at the head of a formidable host. Sahadeva, calm and wise, departed to the South; and Nakula, the handsome master of weapons, rode westward with measured stride and royal bearing.
Four roads stretched beneath their might,
To East and West, to South and North.
With Dharma’s fire and Kṣatriya light,
The sons of Pāṇḍu sallied forth.
Each brother, born of a god, bore the weight of royal duty. They went not to plunder, but to establish the sovereignty of dharma, to receive homage in peace or take it by strength if denied.
Vaiśampāyana continued:
While the four Pāṇḍavas set out upon their conquests, the exalted Yudhiṣṭhira, ever just and wise, remained at Khandavaprastha. There, amid the splendid new sabhā, he ruled with benevolence, surrounded by friends, sages, and loyal kin. The treasury swelled as gifts and tributes poured in, preparing the ground for the Rājasūya sacrifice.
No envy stirred his noble heart,
Though glories came from every land.
He reigned with dharma as his art,
A lotus blooming in wisdom's sand.
Now Arjuna, whose name echoed in the hills and halls of kings, came before the mighty Bhagadatta—the aged and valiant ruler of the East, famed for his elephant army and war-skill.
Hearing of the conquest and the purpose behind it, Bhagadatta rose from his seat and spoke these words with great warmth and reverence:
“O son of Kuntī, noble and bright,
As thou art dear, so is thy king.
What thou seekest, I shall fulfill—
Speak further, what else shall I bring?”
Vaiśampāyana said:
Thus did Bhagadatta, bound by loyalty and dharma, offer his submission not with fear but with honor, recognizing in Arjuna the hand of fate and the cause of righteousness.
Having received the promise of allegiance from Bhagadatta, Arjuna, the long-armed son of Kuntī, spoke with humility and firmness:
“If this be thy word, O king,
Then all I seek is thus fulfilled.
Let friendship stand where swords might clash,
And peace be greater than blood spilled.”
With the king of Pragjyotiṣa pacified, Dhanañjaya then turned his gaze northward, to the realms ruled by the Lord of Treasures. There, amidst mountains that kissed the sky and wild regions veiled in mist, the Kuru hero rode forth like a rising sun over frozen peaks.
He subdued the hilly tracts and their outlying chiefs, bringing the mountainous lords beneath his sway. With firm might and fair diplomacy, he exacted tribute and won the goodwill of kings whose hearts were stirred by his nobility.
The clash of hooves and wheels was heard,
Through cliffs and valleys deep and wide.
The snow-born peaks, by courage stirred,
Resounded with the Kuru’s pride.
At the head of his army, Arjuna then marched upon Vṛihanta, king of Ulūka. With war-drums pounding and chariots rolling like thunder, the very earth trembled beneath the son of Indra. Vṛihanta, bold and proud, came out to meet him with a full host of elephants, horses, chariots, and infantry. A terrible battle ensued.
But Vṛihanta could not withstand the tempest of Arjuna's arms. Struck by awe at the Pāṇḍava’s prowess, the mountain king submitted, offering his kingdom and his treasures. Arjuna accepted his submission and, winning his alliance, advanced next upon Senavindu.
Senavindu resisted but was soon expelled from his kingdom by Arjuna’s swift campaign. The conqueror, now carrying the strength of allied kings behind him, overran the lands of Modāpura, Vāmadeva, Sudāmān, Suśaṅkula, and the northern Ulūkas, bringing all under submission.
With sword and counsel both he ruled,
With strength and kindness, gold and flame.
The northern lords, once proud and cooled,
Now sang aloud the Pāṇḍava’s name.
At Devaprastha, the city of Senavindu, Arjuna established his base and remained there, as instructed by Yudhiṣṭhira. From that fortress, his legions moved like the wind, spreading in all directions to complete the subjugation of five more northern lands.
Thence, surrounded by monarchs who had bowed to him, Arjuna advanced against Viśvagasva of the Pūru line. The brave mountaineers allied with that king rose in resistance, but were vanquished. The town was seized, and with it the seven warring tribes known as the Utsava-Saṅketa were brought under his dominion.
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Next he subdued the warriors of Kāśmīra and defeated King Lohita, along with ten minor chieftains. Soon after, the Trigartas, Daravas, Kokonadas, and other powerful Kṣatriyas rose against him, but their resistance was broken.
Through peaks where clouds forever dwell,
Through frost-laced lands and frozen heights,
The son of Indra fought and fell—
Upon each foe with blazing might.
He captured the city of Avisārī, and overcame Rochamāna, the king of Ūragā. Then Singhapura, guarded by a host of weapons and warriors, was pressed and brought low by the advancing tide of Arjuna’s host.
Continuing his conquest, he struck the Suhma and Sumāla regions with fire and steel. Then he came upon the valiant Vaḷhikas, long famed for resisting even the fiercest warriors. Yet they too bowed before his force.
With a specially chosen detachment, Arjuna pressed further—defeating the Daradas and the mighty Kambojas. He subdued the tribes that dwelt in the northern woods, and conquered the clans of the Lohas, the eastern Kambojas, and the fierce northern Ṛṣikas.
The battle with the Ṛṣikas was furious—its violence echoed the ancient wars between gods and Asuras. Like the slaughter when Tārakā, the wife of Bṛhaspati, became the cause of destruction, so too did the field blaze with blood.
From Ṛṣika’s field of storm and cry,
He took eight steeds like parrots' plume.
And peacock-hued and northern-born,
They bore him swift as winds of doom.
Having subdued even the highlands of the Himalayas and the Nis̍kuṭa ranges, Arjuna came at last to the White Mountains, whose summits pierce the very heavens. There, the son of Indra pitched his camp—his banner aloft, the air ringing with the songs of conquest and the silence of dharma fulfilled.
Then that heroic son of Indra, the foremost of the Pāṇḍavas, endowed with unfailing energy, pressed onward with his host and crossed the White Mountains—those sacred peaks veiled in snow and silence. Beyond them lay the realm of the Limpuruṣas, ruled by Durmaputra, a warlike king.
A fierce clash arose between the hosts, and the land echoed with the cries of Kṣatriyas falling by Arjuna’s hand. When the din had ceased, the banner of the Kurus flew high, and the region lay subdued under his noble sway.
Where steel had sung and war had burned,
The rivers ran with peace once more.
The Pāṇḍava stood with purpose firm,
As kings bent low their crowns before.
With the Limpuruṣas humbled, Arjuna, his mind composed like a silent flame, led his army to the land of Harataka, ruled by the Guhakas, a race fierce in aspect yet bound by custom and law. There, without sword or spear, but through wise conciliation, he brought the realm beneath his will.
In those tranquil lands, Arjuna beheld with wonder the sacred Lake Mānasā—clear as consciousness, still as samādhi. He passed by many other lakes and tanks sanctified by Ṛṣis, their waters whispering the songs of silent sages.
He conquered the regions around Harataka, domains once ruled by Gandharvas, and from there received tributes of rare horses—Tittiri, Kālmaṣa, and Māṇḍūka—creatures swift as thought and colored like dream.
At last, Arjuna arrived at the threshold of North Harivarṣa, beyond which lay the legendary realm of the Uttara Kurus. There, mighty guardian beings, tall as trees and radiant as flame, emerged to meet him.
They bowed in respect and said:
“O son of Pṛthā, halt thy path.
This realm lies far from mortal fate.
No human eye may pierce its cloth—
Nor war nor conquest walks this gate.
Here dwell the Northern Kurus, free
From hunger, grief, and mortal strife.
No victory waits thee here, O prince,
For time stands still, and gods know life.”
Hearing this, Arjuna smiled with humility. Folding his palms in reverence, he answered:
“I seek not glory for myself,
But Yudhiṣṭhira’s sovereign name.
If war is not ordained for here,
Then tribute paid shall serve the same.”
And so, pleased by his restraint and righteousness, those divine guardians offered tribute of celestial cloths, silken robes, gem-strewn ornaments, and skins not born of earthly beasts, fit for a monarch and touched by heaven’s hand.
No blood was shed, no blade was drawn—
Yet victory crowned his gentle way.
For Dharma’s son had known the dawn
That breaks not night, but lightens day.
Vaiśampāyana said:
Thus did the son of Indra conquer the lands of the North. In his wake were left subdued kings, chieftains of robber clans, wild tribes of the mountains, and guardians of mythic places. He took from them wealth beyond measure: jewels, ornaments, and horses of many hues—those like parrot-wings, those like peacocks, and others swift as the wind-god’s breath.
At last, surrounded by the fourfold host—elephants, chariots, cavalry, and footmen—Arjuna returned to Śakraprastha, his standard high, his vow fulfilled.
The city rose with festal cheer,
As hero home from conquest came.
His arms laid down, his heart was clear—
He sought no spoils, but Dharma’s name.
There, in the great sabhā of Indraprastha, Arjuna laid before Yudhiṣṭhira all the tribute, animals, and wealth he had gathered. Then, at the king’s command, he retired in peace to his quarters, his task complete, his soul at rest.
Vaiśampāyana said:
In the meantime, while Arjuna’s conquests echoed from the north, Bhīmasena, endowed with vast strength and ever blazing with heroic fire, received the blessing of Yudhiṣṭhira the Just. With great readiness, that tiger among men set forth toward the East—the land of dawn and kings, of fertile plains and mighty rivers.
He moved like a storm through the forests and roads, accompanied by a massive host. Elephants trumpeted, horses galloped, chariots roared, and warriors marched—each unit armed and eager, ready to crush resistance under foot.
Where dawn breaks upon battle’s flame,
Bhīma rode with Dharma’s name.
Like thunderclouds in armored form,
He bore the wrath of righteous storm.
First, he entered the realm of the Pañcālas, known for wisdom and noble lineage. There, with words of friendship and gestures of respect, he sought conciliation and alliance. Their chiefs, impressed by his dharma and strength, pledged loyalty without strife.
Soon after, the son of Vāyu advanced and vanquished the Gandakas and the Videhas, conquering them by valor and strategy. From there, he marched into the lands of the Dāśārṇas, where a fierce encounter awaited.
In that kingdom, the brave King Sudharmā, possessed of colossal strength, came forth to fight with bare arms, scorning shield or armor. The duel that followed was intense, fierce like a clash of titans beneath the gaze of the sun.
With fists like iron and breath like flame,
The king stood firm and fought Bhīma’s name.
No blade was drawn, no bow unstrung—
Their battle rang like war-god’s tongue.
So moved was Bhīma by Sudharmā’s prowess and valor that he appointed him commander of his forces—a tribute to strength acknowledged in dharma’s light.
From there, Bhīma surged farther east, the earth trembling beneath the tread of his advancing legions. Soon he reached the dominion of Rochamāna, the king of Aśvamedha, who resisted with a mighty force. But in a clash that dazzled with violence, Bhīma overwhelmed him, his strength unmatched, his resolve like a sharpened blade.
Having thus subdued the far east, Bhīma turned toward the Pulinda regions in the south. There, he brought under his command Sukumāra and King Sumitra, defeating them swiftly and absorbing their forces into his ever-growing army.
At length, by the will of Yudhiṣṭhira, he marched upon Śiśupāla, the fierce and proud monarch of Cedi. But this time, no war-signal was raised.
Vaiśampāyana said:
Hearing of Bhīma’s approach, Śiśupāla, the tiger of Chedi, came forth from his city not with weapons, but with honor. He greeted the Pāṇḍava warmly, inquiring of his welfare with the familiarity of kin and warrior-friend.
“O son of Kuntī, mighty one,
Upon what course hath fortune run?
Speak now thy will, and let me share—
For bonds of blood and dharma care.”
To this, Bhīma replied with honest words, revealing the purpose of his journey—the imperial intentions of Yudhiṣṭhira and the need for royal tribute to sanctify the path of the rājasūya.
Śiśupāla, though mighty and proud, did not oppose the righteous cause. Smiling, he offered his kingdom in token submission, honoring the bond between the houses of Pāṇḍu and Chedi.
Bhīma remained there for thirty nights, honored and feasted in Śiśupāla’s palace, his host treating him not as a rival, but as a brother in arms.
Where once swords might have crossed in flame,
Now wine was poured, and bards would sing.
For even kings with fire in name
May bend before the Dharma-king.
When the time came, Bhīma rose from the halls of Chedi, mounted his chariot, and led forth his army—ever forward on the path of conquest, yet guided by righteousness alone.
Vaiśampāyana said:
That chastiser of foes, the mighty Bhīmasena, continued his conquest across the lands of the East, fierce in power and devoted to the cause of Dharma. With arms that knew no defeat and resolve as firm as the Himālaya’s roots, he subdued kingdom after kingdom like a forest fire consuming dry wood.
He first vanquished Śreṇimat, king of Kumāra, and then brought low Vṛihadvala, the proud ruler of Kośala. His chariot wheels cut paths across kingdoms as easily as the moon glides through the sky.
Kings stood high upon their thrones—
But Bhīma’s name would shake their crown.
His arm was law, his tread was fate—
A lion loose through Dharma’s gate.
Then came the fierce battle with Dīrghāyaghna, the mighty king of Ayodhyā, whose valor was famed. But even he could not withstand Bhīma’s fiery feats, and soon his banners lay shattered. One by one, the proud lands fell—Gopālaka-kṣetra, the northern Kośalas, and the realm of the Mallas.
He moved next into the mist-laden region at the foot of the Himālayas, and in a short span of time brought the entire terrain beneath his rule. His strength was unrelenting, his strategy precise.
Then, that scion of the Bharata race conquered the Bhallata country, and scaling the slopes of Śuktimanta, a mountain beside Bhallata, brought even its highland lords into submission.
His flag flew high where clouds would nest,
His breath grew steam in mountain air.
No cliff, no king, no sworded crest—
Withstood the son of Vāyu’s glare.
In the land of Kāśī, he encountered Suvāhu, a king fierce and unyielding. But Bhīma’s prowess broke even Suvāhu’s will, and the kingdom bowed before the thunder of his chariot. He next advanced into Suparśa, defeating King Kratha in combat.
Then the Matsyas, the proud Maladas, and the peaceful realm of Pāśubhūmi came under his sway. From there he turned northward, subjugating Madāhara, Mahīdara, and the Somadheyas, and swept across Vatsabhūmi, defeating its ruler with ease.
He overcame Manimat, the Nishādas, the Bhargas, and numerous smaller kings whose names faded beneath the blaze of his banner. The southern Mallas, the Bhagavanta mountains, the Śarmakas, and the Varmakas followed, some vanquished by war, others by diplomacy.
With arms or words, with sword or peace,
He bent each land to righteous will.
The Dharma-king sent forth his flame,
And Bhīma bore the fire with skill.
At Videha, he met Janaka, famed for virtue. Bhīma subdued him not with force, but strategy, and won the loyalty of a noble heart. He then pacified the Śakas and barbarian tribes nearby, before launching expeditions from Videha to the seven Kirāta kings who dwelt about Mount Indra. All were defeated.
Continuing, Bhīma subdued the fierce Submas and Prasuhmas, and then marched toward Magadha, the jewel of the East. On his way he overcame two powerful monarchs, Daṇḍa and Daṇḍadhara, who joined him in allegiance.
Arriving at Girivraja, he sought out the son of Jarāsandha. With firm diplomacy, he secured his submission and tribute, ensuring the loyalty of this crucial eastern bastion.
From there, accompanied by a host of newly-won kings, Bhīma advanced upon Kāṅsa. The clash of arms grew fierce, and the earth trembled beneath the march of the fourfold army. At length, he encountered Karna, the famed archer, and defeated him in combat, bringing even that powerful warrior to recognize the supremacy of Yudhiṣṭhira.
The son of Rādha bent his pride—
Not with shame, but kingly grace.
For even suns may sometimes hide
Before the moon’s enduring face.
Bhīma then advanced into the highlands, slew the fierce mountain king of Madagiri, and subdued a string of powerful rulers: the warrior Vāsudeva of Puṇḍra, the mighty Mahaujah of Kauśika-kaccha, and the proud king of Vaṅga.
The conquests continued. He overcame Samudrasena, Chandrasena, the people of Tāmralipta, the Karvatas, and the Suhmas, and he crushed the proud kings along the sea-shores. With them, he subdued the Mleccha tribes who dwelled in distant and marshy coastal lands.
From coral reef to scented wood,
From pearl-strewn shores to aloes' land,
They bowed before the iron mood
Of Bhīma's ever-righteous hand.
He gathered from them gifts of immense wealth—gems, silks, sandalwood, aloes, gold, silver, pearls, and blankets of fine texture. The Mleccha kings, awed by his strength and justice, rained upon him wealth counted in hundreds of millions.
At last, having conquered the full breadth of the Eastern world, Bhīma, the son of Vāyu, returned to Indraprastha, his name resounding like thunder in the hearts of kings.
There, in the great hall of Yudhiṣṭhira, he offered all he had gathered—wealth, warriors, beasts, tribute, and allegiance—unto the son of Dharma, who sat like a blazing sacrificial fire upon the throne.