novelraw Arc 5 - Tirth-Yatra Parva - Chapter 20 - Arjuna recount his sojourn in heaven
Arc 5 - Tirth-Yatra Parva - Chapter 20 - Arjuna recount his sojourn in heaven
Vaiśampāyana said:
Then the lord of treasures, seated resplendent amidst his hosts, addressed Dharmarāja with words both weighty and gracious:
“O Yudhiṣṭhira, know that five things lead men to success—patience, ability, the right time, the right place, and prowess. In the Kṛta Yuga, men possessed all these; they endured, they knew their callings, they measured time and place, and they displayed strength with wisdom.
A Kṣatriya, endowed with patience and knowledge of time and place, versed in the laws of men, alone can govern long and well. He who governs thus gains fame in this world and blessed state in the next. Even Śakra attained lordship over heaven only by displaying prowess in season, guided by wisdom.
But he who acts from blind wrath, or follows evil ways, or disregards the fitness of time and place—such a man meets with ruin both here and hereafter. Rashness consumes its own fruits. He who craves mastery in all things, yet is deceitful and without measure, destroys himself and those who trust him.
O son of Dharma, Bhīma is fearless, but he is hasty, proud, unforbearing, still like a child in judgment. Do thou restrain him with gentle wisdom. Return now to the hermitage of the sage Arṣṭiṣena. There, under my charge, ye may dwell free of fear. All the Gandharvas of Alakā and of this mountain shall guard you. The beings of these forests will henceforth wait upon you, protect you, and provide your wants.
Fear not for food or drink; my servants shall bring you meats and fruits, honey and pure water, to delight the heart. Know that as Arjuna is shielded by Indra, Bhīma by Vāyu, thyself by Dharma, and the twins by the Aśvins—so are ye all under my protection.
As for Dhanañjaya, he prospers in heaven. From birth he was endowed with all perfections that lead to heaven—restraint, charity, strength, modesty, fortitude, and unyielding truth. No man has heard Pārtha speak untruth, nor seen him act from meanness of spirit. Honoured by gods, pitṛs, and Gandharvas, he learns now the weapons of heaven from Śakra himself. Even thy grandsire Śāntanu, dwelling in Indra’s realm, is gladdened at heart by the conduct of his descendant, wielder of the bow Gandīva.”
Hearing these words of the Giver of Wealth, the Pāṇḍavas rejoiced greatly. Bhīma laid aside mace and sword and bow, and with his brothers bowed to Kuvera. The lord of treasures blessed them, saying:
“Be thou destroyers of the pride of foes, enhancers of the joy of friends. Dwell fearlessly in this my domain—the Yakṣas shall not oppose you. When Guḍākeśa returns, bidden farewell by Śakra himself, he will rejoin you in splendour.”
Having thus spoken, the great Lord of Guhyakas vanished from the summit, followed by thousands of Yakṣas and Rākṣasas in jewelled cars, their steeds coursing the firmament swift as thought, neighing like birds of the air.
At his command the slain Rākṣasas were borne away, for the curse of Agastya had reached its end—through death in battle they were released. And the Pāṇḍavas, honoured by Yakṣas and Rākṣasas alike, dwelt many nights in gladness upon the sacred mountain, awaiting Arjuna’s return.
Vaiśampāyana said:
At sunrise, when his rites were ended, Dhaumya, accompanied by the ascetic Arṣṭiṣena, came before the sons of Pāṇḍu. The princes bowed at their feet, and with folded hands paid homage to all the gathered Brāhmaṇas.
Then Dhaumya, taking the hand of Yudhiṣṭhira and gazing eastward, spoke words of solemn teaching:
“O mighty monarch, behold Mandara, vast and immovable, its roots touching ocean. To this quarter belong Indra and Vaiśravaṇa, guardians of the heavens. Here sages versed in dharma declare that the gods themselves worship the Sun as he rises from this point, and that the twice-born pay reverence where radiance first appears.
To the south lieth Saṃyamanī, the dread abode of Yama, lord of departed spirits, where the souls of men repair. It is sacred and prosperous, yet solemn with the weight of judgment.
To the west is Asta, the mountain where the Sun abides in truth when his course is done, and where Varuṇa, the keeper of oaths and of the deep, dwelleth.
But to the north—ah, son of Dharma—there towers Mahāmeru, auspicious, effulgent, refuge of the seers of Brahman. Upon its heights is the court of the grandsire, Prajāpati Brahmā, who once created all that moves and moves not. There dwell the seven mind-born sons of Brahmā, Dakṣa among them. There rise and set the seven Ṛṣis, led by Vasiṣṭha, flaming like stars across the firmament.
Upon Meru’s summit shines the seat of the Self-born, where Brahmā and the gods rejoice in the stillness of knowledge. And beyond even this lies the ineffable region of Nārāyaṇa—primeval, without beginning or end, radiant with all energies. Neither Deva nor Dānava, neither Maharṣi nor Brahmarṣi, may behold it; only the Yatis, purified by austerity, attain that vision.
There shines the Lord transcendent, where sun and moon cannot illumine, where no lamp is needed, for the eternal light alone abides. By yoga and renunciation, the high-souled enter that place and return no more to this mortal round. That region, O Bhārata, is the essence of the Supreme.
Know too, O king, that the Sun and the Moon daily circle Meru, coursing in opposite paths, drawing with them the wheel of Time. As he sets and rises, the Sun obscures the lesser luminaries, ruling the day. When he turns to the south, winter descends and creatures are chilled; when he journeys northward, heat and lassitude overtake all beings. Drawing up the essence of the waters, he pours it down again as rain, reviving all that lives.
Thus,
Unceasing he moves on the wheel of Time,
Dividing day and night, measure and season.
Withdrawing the strength of beings, he restores it again,
Animating the world with his light.
This is the course of the Sun, lord of day, unwearied and eternal.”
Vaiśampāyana continued:
Dwelling upon that best of mountains, the high-souled sons of Pāṇḍu, steadfast in vows, found their hearts enchanted by its splendour. Yet even amidst its beauty, their thoughts turned ever towards Arjuna, whose return they longed to behold.
Multitudes of Gandharvas and Maharṣis came gladly to visit those energetic heroes—men of prowess, chaste in desire, foremost in truth and fortitude. Upon that radiant mountain adorned with blossoming trees, the Pāṇḍavas rejoiced like the Maruts arriving in heaven.
They roamed its slopes and summits, strewn with flowers, resounding with the cries of peacocks and cranes. They beheld crystal lakes filled with lotuses, their shores shaded with groves, frequented by dark-hued birds, karandavas, and swans. Those flourishing regions, graced with jewels and flowers, shone as the very playground of Kubera, lord of wealth.
The splendour of the mountain was such that no difference could be discerned between night and day. Its brilliance mingled with the glow of flowering plants and the unsetting radiance of the Sun, who from this height nourishes all creatures, moving and still.
There, the sons of Pāṇḍu beheld both the rising and setting of the Sun, the cardinal quarters and the spaces between, all ever blazing with his light. Expectant of their brother’s return, they gave themselves to the recitation of the Vedas, the practice of ritual, the steadfast discharge of dharma, and the discipline of vows.
And they said to one another:
“Here let us remain, delighting in the thought that soon Arjuna, master of arms, shall join us.”
Thus they practiced yoga, fixing their minds upon him. Yet, though the woods of Gandhamādana were romantic and beautiful, each day and night seemed as long as a year, for their hearts were bound to him of the white steeds.
From the moment Jīṣṇu, with matted hair and Dhaumya’s blessing, had departed for Indra’s abode, joy had fled from their hearts. At Yudhiṣṭhira’s command he had gone forth, striding like an elephant in rut, and since then grief had overshadowed them.
So, upon that mountain, the descendants of Bharata passed a month with difficulty, yearning for Arjuna who dwelt in the halls of Śakra, learning celestial arms.
At last, when five full years had been spent in the mansion of the thousand-eyed king, Arjuna, having obtained from that lord of heaven the divine weapons of Agni, Varuṇa, Soma, Vāyu, Viṣṇu, Indra, Paśupati, Brahmā, Parameṣṭhī, Prajāpati, Yama, Dhātṛ, Savitṛ, Tvaṣṭṛ, and Vaiśravaṇa, and having circumambulated the wielder of a hundred sacrifices, bowed low and received his leave.
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Cheerfully then did the mighty Pārtha descend, returning once more to Gandhamādana, radiant as a blazing sun and armed with the power of the gods.
Vaiśampāyana continued:
And it came to pass, as the mighty charioteers thought longingly upon Arjuna, a sudden radiance blazed across the sky. Mahendra’s car appeared, yoked with steeds flashing like lightning, driven by Mātali, the celestial charioteer.
The heavens themselves were lit as though by smokeless tongues of flame, or as by a meteor borne aloft in the bosom of clouds.
From that blazing car descended Kīrīṭin, adorned with fresh garlands and ornaments gleaming like the dawn. He shone with the prowess of the wielder of the thunderbolt, yet moved with the grace of humility.
He first bowed at the feet of Dhaumya, then at those of Ajātaśatru. Unto Vṛkodara he bent in reverence, and the twins bowed low to him in return. Then he approached Kṛṣṇā, speaking gentle words to cheer her, before standing humbly before his elder brother.
So meeting at last, the brothers were filled with delight. Their joy was like the union of rivers with the sea. And Arjuna too, beholding their faces after long exile, rejoiced exceedingly and began to extol Yudhiṣṭhira, the son of Dharma.
Around that divine car they moved with reverence, the very car in which the slayer of Namuci had once annihilated seven phalanxes of Diti’s sons. The magnanimous Pārthas worshipped Mātali with honor, as though he were Indra himself.
Then did Yudhiṣṭhira enquire after the welfare of the gods, and Mātali, returning their homage, blessed them as a father blesses his sons. Having spoken words of counsel, he reascended that incomparable car and sped back through the sky to the thousand-eyed king.
When the charioteer had departed, Arjuna, radiant as a rising fire, sat amidst his brothers and the assembled Brahmanas. To his beloved Draupadī, mother of Sutasoma, he gave shining gems and ornaments bright as the sun—treasures gifted him by Śakra himself.
Thereafter, surrounded by the foremost of the Kurus, that son of Indra spoke:
“I have learned the weapons of heaven—
from Śakra, from Vāyu, from Rudra manifest,
and from all the celestials who, pleased by my conduct and my devotion,
have blessed me with their knowledge and their favor.”
Having thus briefly recounted his sojourn in the abode of the immortals, Kīrīṭin, spotless in deed, passed the night in joy beside his brothers, sharing rest with the sons of Mādrī.
Vaiśampāyana said:
When the night had passed into dawn, Dhanañjaya, with his brothers, offered reverence to Yudhiṣṭhira the Just. At that very moment, O Bhārata, a tumult arose from the heavens—mighty and wondrous. There resounded the clash of celestial drums, the tolling of bells, the deep roll of car-wheels, and the music of instruments played by unseen hands.
From every quarter beasts and birds lifted their own cries, answering the thunder of heaven. Then from the sky descended radiant cars, resplendent as the sun, carrying hosts of Gandharvas and Apsaras, attendants of joy, who came following their lord, the wielder of the thunderbolt.
Ascending his chariot drawn by steeds golden-hued and roaring like storm-clouds, the king of the celestials himself appeared—Śakra, Purandara, he of a thousand eyes, blazing in beauty.
From his shining car the god alighted, and as Yudhiṣṭhira the Just beheld him, he rose with his brothers and went forward. According to the ordinance, the son of Dharma, generous and steadfast, offered homage to that high-souled king of the immortals.
And Dhanañjaya, possessor of ascetic merit, with matted hair upon his head, bowed humbly before his father Indra, standing silent as a servant before his master. Seeing him so, sinless and reverent, Yudhiṣṭhira, filled with joy, bent down and smelled the crown of Arjuna’s head in blessing.
Thus, worshipping Śakra, the son of Dharma tasted supreme bliss. Then the lord of the celestials, intelligent Purandara, spoke in benediction:
“Rule thou the earth, O son of Kuntī—
blessed be thy path, O Pāṇḍava.
When the hour is ripe, return again
unto the forest of Kāmyaka.”
And Vaiśampāyana added:
Whoever, leading the life of a Brahmacārin for a year, subduing his senses and observing holy vows, heareth with rapt devotion this tale of the meeting of Śakra with the Pāṇḍavas, that learned soul shall live a hundred years, free from affliction and rich in happiness.
Vaiśampāyana said:
When Śakra had returned to his celestial seat, Vibhatsu, together with his brothers and with Kṛṣṇā, bent before the son of Dharma. And Yudhiṣṭhira, laying his hand upon Arjuna’s head and smelling the crown, spoke with faltering voice, filled with wonder and longing:
“O Dhanañjaya, how didst thou pass thy time in heaven? How didst thou obtain the divine weapons, and in what manner didst thou win the favour of the wielder of the thunderbolt and of Rudra, lord of the trident? Tell me, O sinless one, how thou didst behold the thousand-eyed Indra and the great Śaṅkara, and by what service they were gratified with thee. All this, O conqueror of foes, I desire to hear in full.”
Arjuna said:
“O king, hear then how I came to behold both the Lord of a hundred sacrifices and the divine Hara, wielder of the Pināka. At thy command I went forth to practise penance, seeking the science thou hadst bid me learn. From Kāmyaka I journeyed to the slopes of Bhṛgutunga, and there I spent a night absorbed in austerities.
On the morrow a Brāhmaṇa came to me and asked, ‘Whither goest thou, son of Kuntī?’ I told him truly of my vow and purpose. Pleased, he said, ‘Perform thy austerities, O Bhārata. By penance shalt thou soon behold the king of the celestials.’
Following his counsel, I ascended the Himālaya and began severe tapas: for one month I lived on roots and fruits; in the second I drank water only; in the third I took no food at all; in the fourth I stood with arms upraised. Yet my strength waned not, a marvel indeed.
When the first day of the fifth month was spent, there appeared before me a strange and terrible vision—a boar, rooting the earth with tusk and breast, trampling the ground, moving frightfully. Behind it came a mighty hunter, bow in hand, sword at his side, surrounded by women.
Taking up my bow and the inexhaustible quivers, I shot at the beast. At that very instant the hunter too loosed a shaft. He rebuked me, saying:
“Why hast thou struck first what I had already marked? For this arrogance I shall humble thee. Prepare, for I shall destroy thy pride.”
Then he assailed me with torrents of arrows, thick as rain-clouds upon a mountain. I replied in kind, and our shafts clashed like lightning against thunder. My keen missiles pierced his form, yet his body multiplied into hundreds and thousands. I struck them all down, but they merged again into one. Now huge, now small, now changing form unceasingly, he baffled all my weapons.
I invoked the weapon of the Wind—yet it failed. I tried those of Varuṇa, of Sthūṇakarṇa, of Aśmavarṣa—all were swallowed into his form. At last I loosed the Brahmāstra itself; its blazing arrows lit the heavens, but even that he quenched with ease. Fear seized me, for all my might availed naught.
Then we closed in wrestling, striking each other with fists and slaps. His strength was irresistible, and at last I fell stunned upon the ground. Laughing, he vanished from my sight with his retinue of women.
In his place appeared a wondrous form—three-eyed, wearing serpents for ornaments, bearing the trident, the crescent on his brow, his mount the bull beside him—Maheśvara himself, with Umā at his side.
Advancing, the Lord spoke:
“O son of Pṛthā, I am pleased with thy valour and devotion. Ask me a boon. Except immortality, whatever thou desirest shall be granted.”
Bowing low, my heart fixed on arms, I answered:
“O Lord, if thou art gracious, grant me thy own celestial weapon.”
Śaṅkara said:
“So be it. I bestow upon thee the Paśupata, my unfailing missile. But know this: it may not be hurled at mortals, for it would consume the universe itself. Only when pressed by foes of immeasurable power, when all thy weapons are spent, then mayst thou employ it.”
Even as he spoke, the divine weapon appeared at my side—bright, terrible, unendurable to gods, asuras, or rākṣasas, irresistible, the bane of hostile hosts. Then, having granted this boon, the Great God vanished like a flame withdrawn, leaving me awed and exalted.”
Arjuna said:
“O Bhārata, by the grace of that God of gods, the Supreme Soul, Tryambaka, I passed the night in that sacred place. When morning came, having performed the rites of dawn, I once more beheld that foremost of Brāhmaṇas, radiant as the sun, whom I had first encountered.
To him I told all that had transpired—how I had beheld the great Maheśvara, bearer of the trident, who is beyond the vision of mortals. Well-pleased, he replied:
‘Since thou hast seen the mighty Lord, soon shalt thou mingle with Vaivasvata and the other Lokapālas, and Indra himself shall bestow weapons upon thee.’
Having spoken thus, the holy one embraced me again and again, and vanishing at will, departed whither he pleased.
That evening, O king, a pure breeze arose, refreshing the world. Flowers fresh and fragrant bloomed upon the slopes of Himavat, and from every side sweet music was heard—celestial hymns to Indra, mingled with the voices of Gandharvas and the chorus of Apsaras. Then from heaven descended resplendent chariots, gleaming like suns, bearing the Maruts and the hosts of the immortals.
Soon I beheld the Guardians of the Worlds: Yama seated in the south, Varuṇa in the west, Indra blazing in splendour, each in his own quarter. With gracious smiles they spoke:
‘O Savyasācin, behold us—the Lokapālas seated here. For the work of the gods thou hast been blessed with the vision of Śaṅkara. Now receive from us these divine weapons.’
Bowing low, I accepted those mights unequalled, which the celestials placed in my keeping. Thereafter they departed to their regions.
Then Śakra, the thousand-eyed, lord of the gods, descended in his golden car, radiant as lightning. He spoke, saying:
‘O Pārtha, thou shalt ascend to the celestial realms. Long have I awaited thy coming, knowing that through tapasya and through the tirthas thou hast sanctified thyself. Yet greater austerities still must thou perform; for heaven itself shall be thy abode. At my command, Mātali shall bring thee hither. Already hast thou been accepted among the gods and the Ṛṣis.’
Then I answered:
‘O Lord of the celestials, grant me this boon—that thou thyself be my preceptor. I seek not pleasure in heaven, but knowledge of arms, for the task of dharma that lies ahead. Bestow upon me the mastery of divine weapons.’
Śakra replied with a smile:
‘O son, I tested thee with harsh words, for truly thou art born of me. Thy vow restraining the use of celestial arms against mortals alone becomes thee well. Therefore receive them all. In my abode thou shalt learn the weapons of Vāyu and Agni, of the Vasus, Varuṇa, the Maruts, the Siddhas, Brahmā, the Gandharvas, the Uragas, the Rākṣasas, of Viṣṇu and of the Nairṛtas, and every weapon that is with me. Having mastered them, thou shalt be unconquerable.’
Having spoken thus, Śakra vanished. At once there appeared a wondrous chariot yoked with steeds of celestial splendour, driven by Mātali himself.
The charioteer, radiant and skilled in the lore of horses, bowed to me, saying:
‘O son of Kuntī, the thousand-eyed lord summons thee. Come, ascend, and behold the heavenly regions even in this mortal frame.’
Obeying, I circumambulated the Himālaya, then entered that shining car. The steeds, swifter than wind or thought, sprang forward. Yet though they sped with the force of storm, I sat unmoved, steady as a mountain.
Mātali, gazing upon me in wonder, said:
‘A marvel is this, O Bhārata! Never have I seen it so. At the first leap of these horses even Śakra himself is shaken from his seat. Yet thou, unmoved, sittest firm. Surely this power surpasses even that of the lord of the celestials.’”