novelraw Arc 9 - Pativratā Mahātmyam and Āraṇya Parva Chapter 4 - The Yaksha’s Questions
Arc 9 - Pativratā Mahātmyam and Āraṇya Parva Chapter 4 - The Yaksha’s Questions
Janamejaya said, ‘At this time, where were the sons of Pāṇḍu? From whom did they learn this joyous news? And what did they then do, as the twelfth year of exile came to its end?’
Vaisampāyana said:
“Having defeated the Saindhava king and rescued Draupadī from Jayadratha, and having heard the holy legends from the lips of Mārkaṇḍeya, the sons of Pāṇḍu passed their twelve years of exile in the forest. And when that term was fulfilled, they moved from Kāmyaka to the sacred Dvaitavana, with their cars, attendants, herds, and followers, awaiting the year of concealment.”
Vaisampāyana said:
“When the sons of Pāṇḍu, dwelling in Dvaitavana, were approached by that distressed Brāhmaṇa whose Agnihotra had been endangered, they at once armed themselves for his sake. Obedient to dharma and eager to uphold the sacred fire, they pursued the deer whose antlers had carried away the fire-sticks and churning staff. Swift as the wind they chased it, loosing arrows, darts, and javelins, yet the creature sped before them untouched, vanishing suddenly like an illusion wrought by the gods.
Weary, parched, and dispirited, the brothers came at last beneath the spreading shade of a great banyan tree in the silent forest. There, breathing heavily and tormented by thirst, they sat upon the roots. And Nakula, youngest son of Mādrī, fair as the Aśvins themselves, spoke with sorrow and impatience:
“O king, in our race dharma has never been cast aside,
Nor has wealth been lost through insolence or pride.
Never have we refused, when asked, to any being—
Yet today misfortune dogs us, strange and unseeing!
Why, O Yudhiṣṭhira, should virtue bear no fruit?
Why does this path of service end in thirst and pursuit?
Why does a Brāhmaṇa’s need, though embraced with zeal,
Leave us wandering thus, with hunger sharp and real?”
Thus Nakula lamented, voicing the weariness of his heart. His words, though edged with despair, were born of devotion to righteousness, for he could not understand how their service to the Brāhmaṇa had yielded only toil and grief.
O king, it was at that moment, beneath the banyan’s shade, exhausted and bewildered, that the sons of Pāṇḍu drew nearer to the great trial that destiny had prepared for them—one that would reveal the wisdom of Yudhiṣṭhira, the Yakṣa’s riddle, and the fateful course of their exile.”
Vaisampāyana said:
“When the son of Dharma entered that grove, he beheld a lake of surpassing beauty, clear as a mirror, its surface strewn with lotuses of gold, its banks adorned with blossoming trees, and its waters resonant with the cries of cranes and swans. The wind there was fragrant with Ketaka and Karavīra, while bees hummed amidst the blossoms. Yet though delightful to the eye, it bore a fearful secret within.
As Yudhiṣṭhira approached, parched with thirst and his heart heavy with dread for his brothers, his gaze fell upon them—Nakula and Sahadeva, Arjuna and Bhīma—all lying upon the ground as though asleep, their weapons fallen from their hands, their forms still radiant but bereft of breath.
The king of justice, beholding those tigers among men thus prostrate, was struck with anguish. His throat choked, his eyes grew moist, and his heart pounded like a storm. He thought within himself:
“This must be no common misfortune, nor the work of beasts or chance.
Surely a being of power, unseen, hath struck down my brothers in this expanse.
Alas! Why did they, urged by thirst, disregard some mighty spirit’s word?
For no mortal cause could have felled these lions, wielders of bow and sword!”
Stricken with grief, yet composed by wisdom, Yudhiṣṭhira slowly approached the limpid waters. As he bent down, desiring to quench his burning thirst, a deep and resonant voice rose from the unseen sky:
“Stop, O son of Dharma! This lake is mine.
None may drink here until my questions are answered.
One by one thy brothers have fallen,
heedless of my command.
Answer truly, and life shall be thine.
Drink without reply, and thou too shalt lie with them,
struck down by my power!”
Hearing these words, Yudhiṣṭhira’s heart was stilled. Unlike his brothers, he did not rush in wrath or despair, but bowed his head with reverence and spoke:
“Who art thou, O lord of mysterious form?
Show thyself, whether Yakṣa, or Rākṣasa, or Deva!
I will not act rashly.
Question me as thou wilt—
for truth alone is my refuge.”
Thus prepared with humility and steadfastness, the son of Dharma made ready to meet the Yakṣa’s trial, the great dialogue of wisdom by which the sons of Pāṇḍu were destined to be restored.
Vaisampāyana said:
“When Yudhiṣṭhira, the son of Dharma, saw his brothers lying upon the earth, radiant as fallen deities at the end of the Yuga, his heart trembled with grief. Arjuna’s Gāṇḍīva lay by his side, Bhīma’s mace was stilled, and the twins lay as if in gentle sleep. Yet their bodies bore no wounds, their colour had not faded, and no footprints of assailants could be seen.
The king sighed deeply and lamented:
‘O Bhīma, thou who didst vow to shatter Duryodhana’s thighs—
thy mighty promise lieth broken, fruitless now.
O Arjuna, thou whom the gods proclaimed peer of Indra,
why dost thou lie fallen, blighting all my hopes?’
And beholding the twins too, his soul was rent, yet his mind, schooled in dharma, stilled itself. He thought:
‘This is no mortal act. Surely Yama himself,
the universal ender, hath struck down these lions.
Yet their faces glow still, unfaded—
the mark of some hidden power at play.’
Thus resolved, he stepped towards the limpid waters. But even as he bent to drink, a voice thundered from the sky:
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‘Stop, son of Dharma! This lake is mine.
Thy brothers, disobedient, drank and fell.
If thou wouldst live, answer my questions first.
Drink without reply, and thou too shalt join them.’
Then Yudhiṣṭhira, bowing his head, replied calmly:
‘Ask, O Yakṣa, for I covet not what is thine. Truth shall be my only weapon.’
The Yakṣa asked:
“What maketh the Sun rise? Who is his companion?
By what doth he set, and wherein is he established?”
Yudhiṣṭhira replied:
“Brahmā maketh the Sun to rise, the gods keep him company;
Dharma causeth him to set, and he is established in Truth.”
Vaisampāyana explained to Janamejaya:
Thus did the son of Dharma affirm that the cosmic order rests upon the Creator, the Devas, and above all, Dharma and Satya, which uphold the universe itself.
The Yakṣa asked:
“How doth a man become learned? How doth he attain greatness?
By what doth he win a second self? By what doth he gain wisdom?”
Yudhiṣṭhira replied:
“By study of the Śruti a man becometh learned;
by austerity he attaineth greatness.
By intelligence he winneth a second self,
and by service of the aged he gaineth wisdom.”
Vaisampāyana explained:
Learning arises from sacred study, greatness from tapas, true companionship from discerning intellect, and wisdom from honouring the elders who hold life’s experience.
The Yakṣa asked:
“What is the divinity of the Brāhmaṇa? What their piety, their human lot?
What, O king, is their impiety?”
Yudhiṣṭhira replied:
“The Veda is their divinity, austerity their piety;
mortality is their human lot, and slander is their impiety.”
Thus he declared that Brāhmaṇas shine by knowledge and restraint, yet share man’s common death. Their fall lies not in poverty or weakness, but in the sin of slander.
The Yakṣa asked:
“What is the divinity of the Kṣatriya? What is their piety, their human lot?
And what, O king, is their impiety?”
Yudhiṣṭhira replied:
“Weapons are their divinity, sacrifice their piety;
fear is their human lot, and denial of protection is their impiety.”
Thus he taught that the warrior’s sacred trust lies in arms for justice, sacrifice for the gods, and protection of all who seek refuge. To withhold defence is the gravest sin of a king.
Vaisampāyana continued:
Yudhiṣṭhira, king among men, gazed upon the towering Yakṣa whose voice had thundered across the lake. Around him lay the lifeless bodies of his brothers, struck down for their disobedience. Yet his own spirit, though wracked with grief, did not falter. Steady in dharma, he folded his hands and spoke:
“I do not covet what belongs to another. Ask me thy questions, O Yakṣa. According to my understanding, I shall answer them.”
The Yakṣa’s eyes blazed like coals. “Tell me then,” he said, “what is it that makes the Sun rise? Who keeps him company? Who causes him to set? And in what is he finally established?”
Without hesitation Yudhiṣṭhira replied, “It is Brahmā that makes the Sun rise; the gods are his companions; Dharma brings him to rest; and he is established in Truth.”
The Yakṣa’s booming voice continued. Question after question he put, each like an arrow meant to pierce the mind. Yudhiṣṭhira answered each with calm insight.
He declared that learning is born of the Veda, greatness from austerity, wisdom from serving the aged, and a second self only through intelligence.
He explained that for a brāhmaṇa, the study of Veda is divinity, asceticism is piety, mortality is humanity, and slander is impiety.
For the kṣatriya he said: weapons are divinity, sacrifice is piety, fear is his human mark, and refusal of protection is his sin.
The Yakṣa pressed further, asking of the essence of sacrifice, of farming and sowing, of wealth and offspring. Yudhiṣṭhira replied that life is the Sāman, the mind the Yajus, the Ṛk its refuge, and rain its life-breath; seed is foremost for the sower, offspring for those who bring forth.
When asked of what was weightier than earth, higher than heaven, swifter than wind, and more countless than grass, Yudhiṣṭhira answered: the mother is weightier than earth, the father higher than heaven, the mind swifter than wind, and thoughts more countless than blades of grass.
Thus the king spoke, each answer falling like clear drops into the lake of the Yakṣa’s mind.
The questions deepened. What is the soul of man? asked the Yakṣa. “A son,” Yudhiṣṭhira answered. Who is his friend bestowed by the gods? “The wife.” What sustains him? “The clouds.” What is his refuge? “Giving.”
He taught that skill is the best of accomplishments, knowledge the richest possession, health the greatest gain, and contentment the highest happiness.
He declared, “Non-injury is the supreme duty. Vedic rites always bear fruit. The mind, if controlled, brings no regret. And alliance with the good never breaks.”
Again and again the Yakṣa tested him. “What, if renounced, makes a man agreeable? What, regretless? What, wealthy? What, happy?”
Yudhiṣṭhira said, “Renounce pride for agreeableness, anger for freedom from regret, desire for wealth, and greed for happiness.”
The Yakṣa roared, “What is the most wonderful?”
Yudhiṣṭhira, with steady eyes, replied:
“Day after day countless creatures journey to the abode of Yama, yet the living believe themselves immortal. This, indeed, is the greatest wonder.”
When pressed for the true path, he spoke with the humility of one schooled by life’s doubts:
“Reason is inconclusive, the scriptures are many and discordant, no seer’s opinion is final. Hidden is the truth of dharma in the cave of the heart. Therefore, the path is that which the great have trodden.”
And when asked the news of the world, Yudhiṣṭhira said:
“This world is like a pot. The sun is the fire; days and nights are fuel; months and seasons the ladle. Time, the cook, is boiling all creatures in that vessel.”
At last, the Yakṣa gave him a choice: “One brother alone may live. Choose!”
Yudhiṣṭhira bowed his head and said, “Let Nakula rise.”
The Yakṣa marvelled. “Bhīma is dear to thee, Arjuna is thy refuge. Why wishest thou for the step-son of Kuntī to live, forsaking those on whom all depend?”
The son of Dharma answered firmly:
“If virtue is sacrificed, the sacrificer is lost. My father had two queens—Kuntī and Mādrī. As Kuntī is to me, so is Mādrī. I would not let her line perish while my mother’s endures. Let Nakula live, so both my mothers may rejoice alike.”
The Yakṣa’s fierce form softened, his voice turning radiant:
“Since thou hast placed dharma above pleasure and profit, let all thy brothers rise!”
And lo! Bhīma, Arjuna, Nakula, and Sahadeva stirred as from deep sleep. The curse of thirst left them, and their eyes shone bright once more.
Then the Yakṣa revealed himself: “Know me, O son, to be Dharma, thy celestial sire. It was I who tested thee. Because thou hast held firmly to righteousness, your year of incognito shall pass unmarked by foes. No man shall discover you.”
The Pāṇḍavas bowed low, their grief dissolved in reverence. With the sacred fire-sticks in hand, they returned to the hermitage, their hearts strengthened by the blessings of Dharma himself.
Vaiśampāyana said:
Then, in obedience to the words of the Yakṣa, the sons of Pāṇḍu rose up as if from deep slumber, their thirst gone, their fatigue dispelled. Yudhiṣṭhira, beholding his brothers alive, was filled with wonder and joy. Yet his mind, steadfast in dharma, turned to the mysterious being who had caused such a trial.
The king spoke gently:
“O lord, thou art not as thou claimest. No mere Yakṣa could have slain these lions among men and restored them again. Art thou a Vasu, or a Rudra, or one among the Maruts? Or art thou Indra himself, wielder of the thunderbolt? Speak, for I know thee to be more than a spirit of the lake!”
Then the Yakṣa, with a voice like rolling clouds, revealed his true form, vast as a mountain and radiant as fire.
“I am thy sire, O son, the Lord of Justice,
Body of truth, restraint, and sacrifice.
Abstention from harm is my highest portal,
Through mercy and balance the soul ascends.
Fame and candour, purity, patience,
Charity, steadiness, holy vows—
These are my limbs, O child beloved;
By these, the wise draw near to me.”
Vaiśampāyana continued:
At these words, Yudhiṣṭhira bowed low, his heart overjoyed to behold his divine father. Dharma, pleased with his son’s steadfastness, offered him boons.
The king replied:
“O Lord, the sticks of a Brāhmaṇa’s sacred fire were taken away by the deer. Grant that his worship may not be interrupted.”
Smiling, Dharma said:
“It was I who bore away those fire-sticks, taking the form of a deer, only to test thee. The Brāhmaṇa’s sacrifice shall not be hindered.”
“Ask yet another boon, my son, for thou hast pleased me well.”
Yudhiṣṭhira said:
“Our exile is fulfilled, and the thirteenth year has come. Grant us concealment, that none may recognise us while we dwell in another’s kingdom.”
“Be unseen though seen, O sons of Pāṇḍu,
In Virāṭa’s halls shall ye dwell secure.
Take forms at will, pass unrecognised,
Until destiny summons your warlike fame.”
Vaiśampāyana said:
Thus assured, Yudhiṣṭhira bowed again. Yet Dharma, ever gracious, pressed him to accept a third boon.
“O son,” said the Lord of Justice, “ask once more, for my heart is gladdened by thy righteousness.”
The king, with folded palms, answered:
“It is enough to behold thee, O Father. Yet if thou wilt bless me further, grant that greed, folly, and anger never overpower me; let my mind rest always in truth, compassion, and generosity.”
“By nature art thou steadfast in dharma,
For thou art born of my very essence.
Yet gain anew what thou hast spoken:
Calm mind, clear truth, and charity’s flame.
Live long, O king, and guard thy brothers,
Guide them by wisdom and gentle law.
Through thee the earth shall be protected,
And dharma’s lamp shall never fade.”
Vaiśampāyana said:
Having thus spoken, Dharma vanished like the evening sun withdrawing its rays. The sons of Pāṇḍu, freed from hunger and fatigue, embraced one another with joy. Returning to their hermitage, they restored the fire-sticks to the grateful Brāhmaṇa.
And the sage added:
Whoever listens to this tale of the Yakṣa’s questions, of Dharma’s trial and Yudhiṣṭhira’s truth, gains tranquillity of mind, faithful sons and grandsons, and a life of a hundred years. The heart of such a man turns not to falsehood, envy, or sin, but shines like the lotus in the sun.