Stories of the Great Bharata - A Retelling

Arc 7 - Draupadi-Satyabhama Samvada and Ghosa Yatra Parva Chapter 1 - Draupadi-Satyabhama Samvada

Vaiśampāyana said:

After the Brahmanas had taken their seats and the illustrious sons of Pāṇḍu rested in their hermitage, two radiant women entered—Draupadī of Pāñcāla, and Satyabhāmā, daughter of Satrajit and dearest wife of Kṛṣṇa. Their hearts overflowed with joy, for they met after long separation. Laughing sweetly, they sat together, speaking in gentle voices of the deeds of the Kurus and the Yādavas, weaving memories of kin and friend.

At length, slender-waisted Satyabhāmā, moved by curiosity and affection, drew Draupadī aside and inquired in private.

She spoke:

“How, O dark-eyed princess, do you hold sway

Over heroes mighty as Indra’s peers?

What secret art compels their hearts

To bow to your will without anger or fear?

Is it by vow or ascetic rite,

By charms or powders at bath-time laid,

By subtle spells or whispered hymns,

Or youthful beauty in its bloom arrayed?

Tell me, O Krishnaa, daughter of Drupada,

That blessed and auspicious way,

By which I too may bind to me

The heart of Kṛṣṇa, night and day.”

Hearing her words, Draupadī of noble vows smiled gently, yet gravely, and thus replied in measured tones.

“O Satyabhāmā, beloved of Mādhava, you ask of me practices that belong to women of wicked intent. Such ways are not mine. A husband who suspects enchantments and drugs in his wife comes to fear her, as one would dread a serpent hidden in his chamber. Where fear dwells, peace departs; and where there is no peace, how can joy endure? No husband is ever won by charms of that kind.”

She then spoke of her own conduct:

“I cast aside both pride and wrath,

I master longing in my heart;

With single mind and humble hands,

I serve my lords with reverent art.

No glance of envy leaves my eyes,

No false or angry word I speak;

I rise before my lords return,

And place cool water for the meek.

I eat not, bathe not, rest not down,

Till they have bathed and fed and lain;

My joy is but their joy alone,

Their grief is mine, their loss, my pain.”

Vaiśampāyana explained:

Thus did Draupadī set aside the suspicion of magic and declare her dharma—that service without vanity, control of passion, and devotion in action are the true bonds of husband and wife.

Draupadī continued:

“I keep the house in order, the food clean and timely, the rice carefully stored. I do not laugh idly, nor wander long at the gate, nor tarry in pleasure gardens. I never offend by loud mirth or anger. To me, separation from my lords is misery; their absence makes me fast, renounce flowers, and live in penance. What they do not touch, I do not touch. What they do not enjoy, I renounce.”

She uttered:

“My lords I serve as gods on earth,

With humble will and steady hand;

My mother-in-law I honour first,

Obeying all her wise command.

Their wealth, their kine, their steeds, their gold,

Their thousands fed each day with care—

I bore the burden day and night,

That love and trust we all might share.”

Vaiśampāyana said:

She spoke of her past at Indraprastha, when thousands of Brahmanas were fed daily, when singers, dancers, and maidens thronged the palace of Yudhiṣṭhira, and when elephants and horses followed in countless numbers. She told how she bore the burden of order, of treasury, of service, without complaint, waking before all, sleeping last of all, her heart bent to their welfare.

Then she concluded:

“This is the charm that binds their will—

Not powders, chants, or wicked art;

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But diligence, humility,

And faithful love from heart to heart.

The husband is the refuge sure,

The god a wife must hold most dear;

To serve, to guard, to never harm—

This path alone is virtue here.”

Vaiśampāyana said:

When Draupadī had thus spoken with virtue shining from her every word, Satyabhāmā was moved. Folding her palms, she said with reverence:

“O princess of Pāñcāla, forgive me! I spoke in jest, as friends often do, not knowing the weight of my question. Truly, your words are jewels of dharma, and I bow to your wisdom.”

Vaiśampāyana said:

Then Draupadī, daughter of Drupada, turned to Satyabhāmā and spoke again, her words filled with dharma and wisdom, showing the way of a wife who desires to win her husband’s undivided love.

She declared:

“No god in heaven, no power on earth,

Can equal the husband’s sacred worth.

From him descend both joy and fame,

From him is heaven’s promised claim.”

Vaiśampāyana explained:

Here Draupadī affirms that the husband is the wife’s foremost deity. From him come children, wealth, and every delight of the senses, as well as the path to heaven. Thus, the wife’s prosperity rests on his satisfaction.

Draupadī continued:

“When he is pleased, all gifts are thine,

When wrathful, all thy joys decline.

Therefore with love, with service sweet,

Adore his heart at every beat.”

Vaiśampāyana said:

By this she meant that the husband’s favour is the key to all success. The wife must restrain anger, cherish humility, and with constant devotion soften his heart.

Draupadī further instructed:

“Rise with haste when his voice you hear,

Prepare cool water, a seat kept near;

Even what he bids a servant do,

Perform thyself with reverence true.”

Vaiśampāyana explained:

Thus she taught Satyabhāmā that personal service, even in small tasks, reveals true devotion. When the wife does with her own hands what others are commanded to do, the husband feels assured of her love.

She continued:

“Keep secret all he speaks to thee,

Reveal it not in levity.

Feed those he loves, his friends uphold,

But shun the wicked, harsh, and cold.”

Vaiśampāyana said:

A wife must never betray her husband’s confidence, even in matters trivial, for careless speech breeds discord. Instead, she should nourish those loyal to him and avoid those who plot against him.

Draupadī then spoke of conduct with women:

“Choose friends of virtue, meek and pure,

Whose lords they honour, whose vows are sure;

Shun those who drink, who rage, who steal,

For such bring ruin, not true weal.”

Vaiśampāyana explained:

Here she instructs that a wife’s companions shape her destiny. To dwell among the sinless strengthens virtue, but to mix with the unrighteous leads only to disgrace.

Finally she said:

“With garlands rare thy form adorn,

With scents anoint at eve and morn;

Decked in delight, with gentle grace,

Worship thy husband face to face.”

Vaiśampāyana concluded:

Thus did Draupadī counsel Satyabhāmā: that beauty, ornament, and perfume, when combined with humility, service, and silence, make a wife not only pleasing to her lord but also prosperous and honoured in this world and the next.

Vaiśampāyana said:

Then Keśava, slayer of Madhu, also called Janārdana, after conversing on many sweet themes with the sons of Pāṇḍu and the venerable ṛṣis headed by Mārkaṇḍeya, prepared to depart. Mounting his car, he called for Satyabhāmā, his beloved.

Before leaving, Satyabhāmā embraced Draupadī, the daughter of Drupada, and spoke words warm with affection.

She said:

“O dark-eyed queen, dismiss thy fear,

Thy griefs shall swiftly disappear;

The sons of Pāṇḍu, godlike, strong,

Will win again the earth ere long.

The world shall see Yudhiṣṭhira reign,

When Dhṛtarāṣṭra’s sons are slain;

The wives who mocked thy exile’s pain

Shall weep in loss, their pride in vain.”

Vaiśampāyana explained:

Here Satyabhāmā assured Draupadī that the wheel of karma would turn. The Pāṇḍavas would avenge their wrongs, Yudhiṣṭhira would regain the throne, and those who laughed at Draupadī’s suffering would themselves taste the fruit of cruelty.

Satyabhāmā continued:

“Thy sons, O Krishna, brave and fair—

Prativindhya, Sutasoma there,

Śrutakarman and Śatānīka bold,

Śrutaseṇa of Sahadeva’s hold—

Like Abhimanyu, skilled in fight,

They dwell in Dvāravatī’s delight;

Subhadrā tends them, heart and hand,

As thou thyself, with love so grand.”

Vaiśampāyana said:

Thus she told Draupadī of her children—safe and happy in Dvārakā. Subhadrā cherished them as her own, grieving in their sorrows and rejoicing in their joy. The mother of Pradyumna loved them deeply, and Keśava himself, with his sons Bhānu and others, watched over them with affection. Even Rohiṇī, Rāma, and all the Andhakas and Vṛṣṇis treated them as Pradyumna’s equals, lavishing on them the warmth of kinship.

Then Satyabhāmā, having spoken these tender truths, walked reverently around Draupadī, as one honours a sister of fortune and sorrow alike. Having saluted her, she ascended Keśava’s car.

Janārdana, smiling, comforted Draupadī with a glance, and with swift steeds the chief of the Yādavas turned back toward his shining city. The sons of Pāṇḍu, their hearts eased by his words and Satyabhāmā’s embrace, returned again to their hermitage in the forest.

Vaiśampāyana said:

When Keśava, the mighty slayer of Madhu, rose to depart, his glance lingered upon the exiled princes of the Bharata line and upon the great ṛṣis who had assembled. Having spoken to them words sweet and grave, he ascended his radiant car. Satyabhāmā, jewel among the Yādavas, followed him; but before leaving, her affection for Draupadī compelled her to embrace the dark-eyed queen.

In gentle tones, yet shining with certainty, she spoke to the daughter of Drupada:

“O Krishna, let not thy nights be filled with tears,

Nor thy thoughts be seized by fear;

For thy lords, the sons of Pāṇḍu,

Shall win again the earth, freed from thorns.

Those who mocked thee in thy sorrow

Shall themselves be bowed by grief;

The throne shall return to Yudhiṣṭhira,

And thy name shall shine with honor.

Thy sons, brave as Abhimanyu,

Grow in strength within Dvārakā’s walls;

Subhadrā guards them as her own,

And Keśava shields them with his love.

The Vr̥ṣṇis, the Andhakas, Rāma himself,

All cherish thy children with affection;

The love they bear for Pradyumna,

That very love they show to thine.”

Vaiśampāyana said:

These words of Satyabhāmā, sweet as nectar, fell upon Draupadī’s heart like rain on parched earth. She felt her sorrow lighten, for she heard of her sons thriving, nurtured in Dvārakā by loving hands—by Subhadrā’s tenderness, by Keśava’s vigilance, by the Vr̥ṣṇis’ and Andhakas’ affection. The news of their training in arms, their growing skill and valor, was to her a promise that the line of Pāṇḍu would not perish.

In that moment, the flame of hope, long hidden beneath the ashes of exile, stirred anew in Draupadī’s soul.

She thought within herself:

“Surely fate moves, though unseen. If my sons live, if my lords yet breathe, if Keśava himself guards us, how can the wheel of dharma not turn? The proud who wronged me shall reap what they have sown, and the world shall again see truth enthroned.”

And though she spoke not aloud, her eyes shone with renewed fire, like hidden embers kindled by the wind.

Then Satyabhāmā, having circled Draupadī in reverence, ascended the car of Kṛṣṇa. Radiant as the moon beside the sun, she took her place at his side.

Keśava, smiling with serene assurance, cast a last look upon Draupadī and the sons of Pāṇḍu. That smile, O king, was like the rising of dawn, dispelling the night of grief. Comforted, the Pāṇḍavas returned to their hermitage, their minds steadied by his presence.

And Janārdana, lord of the Yādavas, with swift steeds yoked to his golden car, turned back toward Dvārakā, his banner of Garuḍa gleaming in the sky like a comet of fortune.

Thus ended the meeting of Draupadī and Satyabhāmā, a meeting woven of sorrow and solace, of counsel and affection, where the bonds of sisterhood shone like jewels amid the dust of exile.