novelraw Arc 1 - Pandava-Pravesa and Kichak-Vadha Parva Chapter 1 - Pandava’s go into Hiding
Arc 1 - Pandava-Pravesa and Kichak-Vadha Parva Chapter 1 - Pandava’s go into Hiding
Janamejaya said:
“O Brāhmaṇa, how did my great-grandfathers, fleeing the wrath of Duryodhana, pass their year of concealment in the city of Virāṭa? And how did Draupadī, faithful to her lords, endure her sorrow unrecognised?”
Vaiśampāyana said:
“Listen, O king, to the tale of how the sons of Pāṇḍu entered Virāṭa’s realm and lived unknown. Having received the boon from Dharma by the side of the Yakṣa’s lake, Yudhiṣṭhira returned to the forest hermitage and told the ascetics all that had occurred. With reverence he restored to the Brahmana his staff and fire-sticks, thus keeping his word.
Then, gathering his brothers, the son of Dharma spoke of the thirteenth year now arrived.”
Yudhiṣṭhira said:
“Twelve years of exile are done,
The thirteenth year we now must shun.
Where shall we dwell, unseen, secure,
Till dharma’s trial we endure?”
Arjuna answered:
“Though none by boon may pierce our guise,
Still prudence bids that we be wise.
Around Hastināpura’s lands lie near—
Cedi, Pañchāla, Matsya fair.
Surasena, Daśārṇa’s ground,
Mālava, Śālva, famed around.
Avantī broad, Kuntirāṣṭra’s plain—
O king, choose where we shall remain.”
Then Yudhiṣṭhira replied in prose:
“The king Virāṭa of the Matsyas is righteous, powerful, and beloved of his people. He is generous in gifts, and holds goodwill towards us. In his city let us dwell for this year, entering his service in secret. Tell me, sons of Kuru, what guise each of you will assume before the Matsya king.”
Arjuna asked him:
“O noble king, what task for thee?
Thou mild of heart, from anger free.
A ruler bears both joy and care—
In what disguise wilt thou dwell there?”
Yudhiṣṭhira answered:
“As Kanka shall I walk the hall,
A Brahmana, yet friend to all.
With dice of ivory—red and white—
I’ll charm the king both day and night.
‘Once was I Yudhishthira’s friend,’
This tale, if asked, I shall extend.
Thus shall I live in secret stay,
Till ends the year and breaks our way.”
Then he turned to mighty Bhīma and asked:
“O Vṛkodara, what office wilt thou take in the kingdom of Matsya?”
Vaiśampāyana said:
“Then mighty Bhīma, son of Vāyu, spoke before Yudhiṣṭhira of his chosen guise.”
Bhīma said:
“As Vallabha shall I be known,
A cook, with skill that’s all my own.
Curries and feasts I shall prepare,
Beyond what royal kitchens bear.
Logs of wood with ease I’ll raise,
To win the monarch’s constant praise.
With elephants and bulls I’ll vie,
Yet spare all foes that with me try.
Wrestlers I’ll hurl, but none I’ll slay,
Thus shall I serve the king each day.
If questioned whence I came before—
‘Yudhiṣṭhira’s cook and guard of yore.’”
Vaiśampāyana continued:
“Hearing Bhīma’s words, Yudhiṣṭhira turned his thought to Arjuna, son of Kuntī, conqueror of hosts. Exalting him with comparisons, the king spoke as one in awe of his younger brother.”
Yudhiṣṭhira said:
“O Bharata, what task for thee?
For thou art strength and mastery.
As sun among the shining fires,
As Indra whom the world admires.
As cobra fierce among the snakes,
As thunderbolt when heaven shakes.
As ocean vast, as Garuḍa’s flight—
So art thou, peerless in thy might.
Arms long and scarred by bowstring’s kiss,
With marks that no disguise can miss.
Tell me, O Gudākeśa, friend,
How wilt thou hide till exile end?”
Arjuna replied:
“O lord of earth, my course is set,
A vow of guise I shall not fret.
As Bṛhannalā will I be,
A dancer, third of sex, to see.
Bangles shall hide my scarred arms well,
With braided hair and rings that tell.
Among the women I shall stay,
And teach them song and dance each day.
Tales of men I shall recite,
Concealing fire in ashes white.
If pressed of old I’ll softly say,
‘I served fair Draupadī each day.’
Thus masked, O king, in palace hall,
As fire concealed, yet ruling all,
I’ll pass the year, unseen, unknown,
Till dharma brings us back our throne.”
Vaiśampāyana concluded:
“Thus spoke Arjuna, son of Pāṇḍu, best of men, and became silent. Then Yudhiṣṭhira, full of thought, turned to his other brothers in turn.”
Vaiśampāyana said:
“Then Yudhiṣṭhira, full of affection, turned to Nakula, the son of Mādrī, graceful as the Aśvins, and spoke.”
Yudhiṣṭhira said:
“Tender and fair, O son of Mādrī,
Born to grace and luxury,
Tell me, O Nakula, thy plan—
What guise to take, what work for man?”
Nakula replied:
“As Granthika I’ll be known,
Keeper of steeds, the royal throne.
To tend the horses is my art,
For steeds are dearest to my heart.
Colts and mares obey my hand,
Docile, strong, at my command.
‘I served Yudhiṣṭhira once,’ I’ll say,
Thus shall I pass the year away.”
Vaiśampāyana continued:
“Then Yudhiṣṭhira asked Sahadeva, the wise twin, skilled in omens and the tending of kine.”
Yudhiṣṭhira said:
“O gentle child, in what disguise,
Wilt thou before king Matsya rise?
What work shall keep thy secret whole,
Concealed from spies with watchful soul?”
Sahadeva replied:
“As Tantripāla I’ll appear,
Keeper of kine, to all held dear.
In milking, marks, and signs I’m skilled,
In taming beasts with fury filled.
I know their natures, births, and breed,
Their omens, forms, their line and seed.
‘I watched Yudhiṣṭhira’s herds,’ I’ll say,
And serve the Matsya king each day.”
Vaiśampāyana said:
“Then Yudhiṣṭhira, sighing, gazed upon Draupadī, beloved more than life, the dark princess of radiant beauty, and spoke with tenderness.”
Yudhiṣṭhira said:
“This Krishna, dearest of our life,
Our beloved queen, our noble wife.
Born to garlands, scents, and gold,
How shall she live in hardship cold?
She knows not toil of common hands,
Her birth is high, her fame expands.
O Draupadī, what role is thine?
Speak, O princess, of thy design.”
Draupadī replied:
“A Sairandhrī I shall be,
A waiting-maid of modesty.
In hair and garb my skill is shown,
Yet none shall guess I am thine own.
I’ll say, ‘I served in Draupadī’s hall,’
And take the charge of Sudeshnā’s call.
Thus shall I dwell, with patience mild,
O king, be not with sorrow riled.”
Vaiśampāyana continued:
“But Yudhiṣṭhira, bound by love, cautioned her with gentle words.”
Yudhiṣṭhira said:
“Fair Krishna, born of noble line,
Chaste and pure, in vows divine.
Beware of men with hearts of sin,
Let not their gaze a foothold win.”
Vaiśampāyana said:
“Then Yudhiṣṭhira, having arranged the offices each would take, spoke of the Brahmanas, the charioteers, and the maids of Draupadī. He commanded that they be sent to the Pañcālas or to Dvārakā, so none could trace the Pāṇḍavas’ path. Thereafter they sought the counsel of their preceptor Dhaumya, who gave them words of deep instruction.”
Dhaumya said:
“The king is fire, with mantra crowned,
Approach him not without due ground.
His car, his seat, his place beware—
To covet these is rash to dare.”
Vaiśampāyana explained:
Dhaumya reminded them that to dwell with a king is perilous. Like fire, the sovereign burns those who touch him without reverence. Even the seat, the chariot, or the elephant of a monarch must never be coveted, for such pride leads to ruin.
“Let none unasked give counsel bold,
In silence sit, with homage told.
The babbler falls, the wise remain,
Pleasing the king with speech most plain.”
The sage taught that kings resent idle chatter. One should offer advice only when sought, and otherwise remain silent, reverent, and watchful.
“Avoid the harem’s guarded door,
Avoid the wrath of foes of yore.
Serve the king with even hand,
As Agni served by priestly band.”
Here Dhaumya warned them against contact with the king’s wives or enemies, for both bring suspicion. Service of the king must be like sacrifice to fire—measured, pure, without excess.
“Sit not behind where guardsmen stay,
Sit not before to block his way.
At right or left the wise man stands,
With folded speech and folded hands.”
Thus he instructed them in proper bearing: never to overstep their place, for all positions around the king are ordained and must be observed in humility.
“Laugh not aloud, nor mock with glee,
Nor cloak thy mirth in gravity.
Smile modestly, with measure due,
And keep the royal favour true.”
Even in gestures, Dhaumya urged restraint. To laugh too freely or to frown too heavily marks a man as unfit; only modest poise wins the monarch’s trust.
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“Boast not of might, nor wisdom’s fire,
Serve with a heart that doth not tire.
What pleases him, what brings him gain,
In that alone thy joy remain.”
Thus he reminded them: never claim greatness, but seek the king’s pleasure and profit, for his anger destroys and his favour is a treasure.
“Reveal not secrets, spurn all bribes,
Nor with his foes strike furtive ties.
Accept his gifts, his robes, his gold,
And in his service firm uphold.”
This maxim guided them in loyalty: to guard the king’s words, avoid corruption, accept what he grants, and never rise above him in glory.
“Strong, truthful, mild, with senses tamed,
By wrath unmoved, by honour framed—
Such is the man who safely stays
In royal courts and wins their praise.”
This was Dhaumya’s closing counsel: that only those who master themselves, neither proud in reward nor despairing in disgrace, may thrive in the palace of a king.
Vaiśampāyana continued:
“Having thus spoken, Dhaumya bade them follow his guidance. Yudhiṣṭhira bowed and said, ‘Truly, O Brahmana, this is counsel none but Kuntī or Vidura could give. Do all that is needful for our safe departure and for the conquest yet to come.’
Then Dhaumya, that best of priests, performed the departure rites. Lighting the sacred fires, he poured oblations with mantras for the success of the Pāṇḍavas and for their return to sovereignty. Circumambulating the fires and the Brahmanas, the five brothers with Draupadī set forth, placing her in their midst. Dhaumya, carrying the fires, went to the Pañcālas. Indrasena and the others departed to the Yadavas, guarding the steeds and chariots of the sons of Pāṇḍu. And so the heroes journeyed on, their disguises chosen, their vows firm, to the city of Virāṭa.”
Vaiśampāyana said:
“Then the sons of Pāṇḍu, girding their waists with swords and wearing finger-guards of lizard-skin, set out towards the river Yamunā. Those great archers, who had long lived among the hills and forests like hunters, now ended their forest-life. Wan, bearded, and carrying arms, they crossed into Matsya’s land, giving themselves out as wanderers of the wild. Passing Yakrilloma and Sūrasena, leaving Pañcāla to the right and Daśārṇa to the left, they journeyed on until Draupadī, weary from the march, spoke to Yudhiṣṭhira.”
Draupadī said:
“Here lie the paths, the fields we see,
The city yet afar must be.
O king, this night let us remain,
For weary heart and foot are fain.”
Yudhiṣṭhira replied:
“O Dhanañjaya, son of might,
Bear Krishna now through dark of night.
For soon, emerging from this wood,
We reach the city’s neighbourhood.”
Vaiśampāyana continued:
“Then Arjuna, like a lordly elephant bearing his mate, lifted Draupadī and carried her until the city walls were near. There Yudhiṣṭhira spoke of their weapons, lest discovery should betray them.”
Yudhiṣṭhira said:
“Where shall we hide our bows away,
Ere in the city’s heart we stay?
For Gandiva’s form all men will know,
And twelve years more we must forgo.”
Arjuna replied:
“Behold that Śamī tree, vast and high,
Its branches stretch against the sky.
Amidst the graveyard, beasts, and gloom,
There shall our weapons find their room.
No mortal foot that height may climb,
Its boughs are secret, free of time.
There hide we arms, and free from fear,
Within the city shall appear.”
Vaiśampāyana said:
“Then the brothers unstrung their dreadful bows. Arjuna loosed the Gandiva, whose thunderous twang had scattered gods and men. Yudhiṣṭhira unstrung the bow with which he had held the field at Kurukṣetra. Bhīma laid aside his mighty bow, that had roared like a storm-cloud when he crushed foes in the Sindhu land. Nakula unstrung the bow that had conquered the western realms, while Sahadeva loosed his bow of southern conquests. Together they bound their weapons, swords flashing like fire, and placed them with quivers and razor-edged shafts.”
Nakula then climbed the great tree, and with strong hands secured the arms on branches hidden from rain and breakage. To deter intruders, the brothers hung a corpse upon the boughs, spreading the tale that it was their aged mother of one hundred and eighty years, left there according to ancient custom. So men turned away, recoiling from the stench, and none approached the tree.
Thereafter, for concealment, Yudhiṣṭhira gave to each of them a secret name:
Yudhiṣṭhira became Jaya,
Bhīma took the name Jayanta,
Arjuna was called Vijaya,
Nakula bore the name Jayatsena,
Sahadeva became Jayatvala.
Thus, under new names and in chosen disguises, the sons of Pāṇḍu with Draupadī entered the great city of Virāṭa, resolved to pass the thirteenth year undiscovered, faithful to their promise to Duryodhana.”
Vaiśampāyana said:
“As Yudhiṣṭhira journeyed towards the fair city of Virāṭa, his mind turned in silent praise to the great Goddess. He remembered her as the slayer of Asuras, the sister of Vāsudeva, the child of Yaśodā who had baffled Kaṁsa. She who is clad in celestial garlands, who bears sword and shield, who saves the sinful as a cow is drawn out from mire. Inwardly he bowed to her and invoked her with a hymn of many names.”
Yudhiṣṭhira said:
“Salutations, O giver of boons,
Bright as the sun, yet fair as the moon.
O maiden vowed to purity,
O Krishna, source of victory.
O four-armed, four-faced deity,
O thou of beauty’s majesty.
With sapphire bangles, arms of might,
With emerald bracelets flashing bright.
O Padmā, consort of the Lord,
Armed with discus, mace, and sword.
O thou who rangest heaven’s dome,
Whose true form shines, whose vow is home.
Black as the cloud, yet fair of face,
O slayer of the Asura race.
With lotus, bell, and bow in hand,
With girdle bright as Mandara’s band.
Peacock plumes adorn thy head,
By vow of maidenhood thou art led.
For slaying mighty Mahīṣa, thou
Art worshipped by the gods who bow.
O Vindhya-dwelling Kāli dread,
Who lov’st the sacrifice blood-red.
Rescuer in sea and wild,
Protect thy servant, mother mild.
O Durga, fame and fortune’s flame,
O mercy, wisdom, night and day.
I bow to thee with folded hand,
Restore to us our throne and land!”
Vaiśampāyana said:
“Thus did Yudhiṣṭhira, bowed with grief yet steadfast in faith, praise the great Goddess. Then Durgā, pleased with his devotion, revealed herself before the son of Dharma, radiant as a thousand suns, and spoke with a voice that shook the quarters.”
The Goddess said:
“O king of mighty, patient will,
Thy foes in battle I shall still.
By grace of mine thy arms shall slay
The gathered Kurus on that day.
Again the earth shall be thy throne,
By conquest made and thorns o’ergone.
With brothers dear shalt thou rejoice,
In health, in joy, in Dharma’s choice.
Whoe’er shall chant my names divine,
Their sins are gone, their lives are mine.
I give them children, wealth, and fame,
And kingdoms raised in Durga’s name.
And ye, O sons of Pāṇḍu bold,
Though spied upon by hearts grown cold,
No foe, no spy, no Matsya’s man,
Shall know you here, by Durga’s plan.”
Vaiśampāyana said:
“Thus, having granted protection and promised victory, the Goddess vanished like lightning behind a cloud. And the sons of Pāṇḍu, strengthened in heart, entered the city of Virāṭa, their disguises firm, their fate upheld by the Mother of the Universe.”
Vaiśampāyana said:
“Then Yudhiṣṭhira, tying golden dice set with lapis in his cloth and bearing them beneath his arm, entered Virāṭa’s court. Though he came clad as a Brahmana, he shone like a cloud-veiled sun, or fire hidden beneath ash. Tall, broad-shouldered, and serene, his face was radiant as the full moon, and he moved with the unhesitating step of an elephant entering a lotus-lake.
Seeing him, Virāṭa marvelled and turned to his counsellors.”
Virāṭa said:
“Who is this stranger, bright of mien,
As if a king in humble sheen?
No Brahmana seems he, this lord of men,
Yet dauntless he walks within my den.
Without retinue, car, or steed,
Yet like to Indra in his speed.
Invested locks his birth proclaim,
Say—whence he comes, and what his name?”
Vaiśampāyana said:
“Thus wondered the Matsya lord. Then Yudhiṣṭhira, bowing slightly yet without fear, addressed the king.”
Yudhiṣṭhira said:
“O king of men, a Brahmana I,
Stripped of wealth and wandering nigh.
Grant me thy shelter, lord of might,
To serve thy will by day and night.
In casting dice my skill is shown,
In friendship once with Yudhiṣṭhira known.
By name I am Kanka—humble, true,
O sinless king, I bend to you.”
Vaiśampāyana said:
“Pleased with his bearing, Virāṭa welcomed him with honour, and offered him gifts and sovereignty.”
Virāṭa said:
“Rule thou the Matsyas as thine own,
For gamblers skilled I prize alone.
Yet thou, O Kanka, art more than all,
Like to a god in this my hall.
Ride by my side in cars of gold,
Share all my counsel, secrets told.
My doors lie open, wealth is thine,
This kingdom’s joys I make as mine.”
Yudhiṣṭhira replied:
“One boon alone, O lord, I crave—
Keep me from quarrels with the base and brave.
And whoso falls by dice to me,
Let not his wealth withheld still be.”
Virāṭa said:
“If any dare thy will withstand,
My wrath shall drive him from this land.
Behold, O court, let all men see—
As much as Virāṭa, so is he!
Ride by my side, in feast and fight,
Share wine and meat, share robe and rite.
For as my friend shalt thou remain,
As long as Matsya’s king shall reign.”
Vaiśampāyana said:
“Thus did Yudhiṣṭhira, under the name of Kanka, secure favour in Virāṭa’s palace. Honoured, protected, and unseen for who he was, he dwelt there happily, hidden in plain sight by the grace of Dharma and the Goddess.”
Vaiśampāyana said:
“Then came another—broad-shouldered, dreadful in strength, blazing with beauty, moving with the playful gait of a lion. In one hand he bore a ladle and spoon, in the other an unsheathed sword of sable gleam, spotless in its edge. Clad in black, vast as a mountain, he shone like the sun that lights the quarters, and stood before King Virāṭa.
Beholding him, the Matsya monarch was filled with wonder and spoke to his assembly.”
Virāṭa said:
“Who is this youth of lion frame,
Unknown, yet bright as solar flame?
With shoulders broad, with kingly face,
Surely he comes of godly race.
Gandharva-lord he seems to me,
Or Śakra throned in majesty.
Go, learn what boon he seeks to claim,
This bull of men, this youth of fame.”
Vaiśampāyana said:
“Then swift messengers brought Bhīma to the king. The son of Vāyu bowed and spoke in words suited to his disguise.”
Bhīma said:
“O foremost king, I am thy man,
A cook named Vallava, of this clan.
In dressing dishes lies my art,
Take me to serve in kitchen’s part.”
Virāṭa replied:
“Not so, O youth of lion eyes,
Thou seemest ruler of the skies.
In grace and strength thou art supreme,
This office fits thee not, I deem.”
Bhīma answered with a smile:
“O king of kings, thy cook am I,
With dainty meats thy want supply.
Yudhishthira once of old
Tasted my dishes manifold.
Yet not in curries lies my skill,
I wrestle too, with matchless will.
Lions, tuskers meet my hand—
I’ll sport for thee at thy command.”
Virāṭa said:
“Be it so—do as thou wilt,
Thy strength and art are free of guilt.
Though earth entire were meet for thee,
Yet in my house thou’lt honoured be.
Chief of my kitchens, take the place,
None rivals thee in form or grace.”
Vaiśampāyana said:
“Thus was Bhīma appointed lord of Virāṭa’s kitchens. Soon he became beloved of the king, pleasing him with feats of strength and skill. Yet none in the palace, nor in the city, could pierce his disguise—so did Vallabha the cook dwell unrecognised among the Matsyas.”
Vaiśampāyana said:
“Then Draupadī, lotus-eyed and dark as the blue lotus, bound her long and faultless tresses into a knotted braid, casting it upon her right shoulder and concealing it beneath her cloth. She donned but a single garment, black and soiled though costly, and clad in that guise she moved about like one stricken with sorrow.
Men and women who beheld her marvelled at her grace and asked her who she was. She answered that she was but a Sairindhrī, seeking service in exchange for food and shelter. Yet her beauty belied her claim, for none could believe such radiance to belong to a maidservant.
It was then that Sudeshnā, queen of Virāṭa and daughter of Kekaya, saw her from the palace terrace, and, struck with wonder, addressed her.”
Sudeshnā said:
“Who art thou, O lady fair,
With moon-like face and lotus stare?
Thy step is queenly, voice divine,
No Sairindhrī art thou in line.
Thy waist is slender, breast well-formed,
Thy gait as if by music warmed.
Thy skin is fragrant as the flower,
Thy beauty holds a goddess’ power.
Art thou a Yakṣī, Apsarā bright,
A Naga-maid from caverns’ night?
Art thou Sri from the lotus sprung,
Or Rohiṇī with stars among?
Tell me, O grace of form complete,
Who stands before me, mild and sweet.
No servant-maid thou canst appear—
Declare thy birth, thy lineage clear!”
Vaiśampāyana said:
“Thus pressed, Draupadī, concealing her true self, answered in words that would allay suspicion.”
Draupadī said:
“No goddess I, nor Yakṣī’s name,
No Gandharvī of heavenly fame.
A Sairindhrī, I move alone,
Seeking my bread from house to home.
I braid the hair, I pound the flowers,
To make unguents in idle hours.
I weave the jasmine, lotus red,
Champaka, lily, garlands spread.
In days gone by I served with care
Satyabhāmā of beauty rare.
And Draupadī, the princess famed,
Malinī was the name she named.
Thus do I wander, thus I stay,
Wherever food and clothes repay.
A servant-maid of Sairindhrī kind,
Nothing more in me you’ll find.”
Vaiśampāyana said:
“Hearing this, Sudeshnā marvelled yet doubted still, and spoke again, torn between fear and desire.”
Sudeshnā said:
“O lady of the shapely thighs,
Thy beauty none on earth belies.
If thou remain within my hall,
My lord may turn from me withal.
The flame of passion none could stay,
Should on thy form his glances stray.
I fear, O girl of sweetly smiling,
My home by thee may meet defiling.
As one that climbs a tree to fall,
As crab that bears her death with all—
So I may bring upon my head
Destruction by thy beauty led.”
Draupadī replied:
“Fear not, O queen, thy heart be still,
None here may bend me to his will.
My five Gandharva lords of might,
Protect me ever, day and night.
Who seeks to wrong me, dies that eve,
This fate no mortal shall reprieve.
I serve but those who honour keep,
Whose food is pure, whose vows are deep.
Thus guarded, thus in vow concealed,
My life is safe, my honour sealed.
If thou consent, O noble queen,
I’ll serve thee here, in peace unseen.”
Vaiśampāyana said:
“Then Sudeshnā, reassured by her words, replied with gladness.”
Sudeshnā said:
“If Gandharvas guard thee so,
Then in my house shalt thou bestow
Thy service, free of fear and stain,
As Malinī with garlands plain.”
Vaiśampāyana said:
“Thus Draupadī, ever devoted to her lords, entered the household of Sudeshnā the queen. And though she shone with the brilliance of Śrī herself, none in Virāṭa’s city could pierce her disguise.”
Vaiśampāyana said:
“Then Sahadeva, youngest of the Pāṇḍavas, clad in the garb of a cowherd and speaking the rustic tongue, came to the cow-pens of Virāṭa’s city. His splendour shone forth even in that humble dress, and the king, struck with wonder, summoned him. When he stood before the Matsya lord, Virāṭa questioned him.”
Virāṭa said:
“Who art thou, youth of noble face,
Of lion shoulders, stately grace?
Whence dost thou come, what work is thine?
Speak truth, O stranger, give me sign.
No common herdsman thou dost seem,
A ruler thou, or god in dream.
Tell me thy land, thy skill, thy way—
And what reward thou wouldst assay.”
Vaiśampāyana said:
“Then Sahadeva, deep-voiced as a thundercloud, replied in words measured and calm.”
Sahadeva said:
“A Vaiśya am I, Ariṣṭanemi named,
In tending kine my skill is famed.
Once in the service I was found,
Of Pāṇḍu’s sons, those kings renowned.
I know the present, future, past,
Of all the herds within me cast.
Their numbers, marks, their tale I keep,
Their breeding arts and health I reap.
By touch and scent of urine’s breath,
I mark the bull that conquers death.
Whose seed makes barren wombs conceive,
This lore I know, and thus I weave.
Thus was I called Tantripāla once,
By Yudhiṣṭhira, king of princes.
If thou wilt keep me at thy side,
Thy herds in safety shall abide.”
Vaiśampāyana said:
“Then Virāṭa, gladdened, entrusted his vast wealth of cattle to Sahadeva.”
Virāṭa said:
“A hundred thousand kine are mine,
In herds distinct, in ordered line.
To thee, O youth, I give them all,
Guard well my wealth, be chief of stall.”
Vaiśampāyana said:
“Thus Sahadeva, undiscovered by king or courtiers, lived happily in Virāṭa’s city, protected by fate and sustained by his secret brothers. None knew him for who he was, save those of Pāṇḍu’s line.”
Vaiśampāyana said:
“Then appeared at the palace gate one of towering stature and radiant beauty, decked in the ornaments of women. Conch-bracelets of gold adorned his arms, great earrings shone from his ears, and a long braid of dark hair floated down his neck. His gait was that of a lordly elephant, shaking the very earth beneath his tread.
This was Arjuna, son of Indra, concealing his true might in disguise. Entering the hall, he stood before King Virāṭa, dazzling all with his presence. The Matsya monarch, astonished, turned to his courtiers.”
Virāṭa said:
“Who is this youth of noble grace,
With lustrous form and kingly face?
His arms are strong, his step is high,
He seems a god come from the sky.
Though clad in jewels, braid, and rings,
He shines as one who conquers kings.
Can such as he of neuter be?
A ruler rather—lord like me!”
Vaiśampāyana said:
“Then Arjuna, veiling his sorrow, answered with gentle words.”
Arjuna said:
“O king, I dance, I sing, I play,
In arts of music lies my way.
To Uttara, thy daughter fair,
Assign me, lord, I’ll teach her there.
My tale of birth, my cause of woe,
Will bring thee grief thou needst not know.
Vṛhannalā I call my name,
Of no fixed sex, unknown my claim.”
Virāṭa replied:
“Vṛhannalā, thy wish I grant,
Though art too great for task so scant.
To teach my daughter, dance and song—
This place to thee doth now belong.
Yet earth entire, encircled sea,
Were fitter throne for one like thee.”
Vaiśampāyana said:
“Then the Matsya king caused him to be examined by his ministers and by women skilled in such matters, who confirmed that the impotency was real and lasting. Thus reassured, Virāṭa sent Arjuna into the maiden’s apartments.
There the mighty hero, master of arms now turned master of arts, taught the princess Uttara and her companions in dance, music, and the play of instruments. His grace won their affection, and in this manner Arjuna, steadfast and self-possessed, lived in disguise as Bṛhannalā, unrecognised by any within or without the palace.”
Vaiśampāyana said:
“After a time, another son of Pāṇḍu came hastening towards Virāṭa. Radiant as the sun emerging from clouds, his splendour dazzled all who beheld him. His eyes wandered among the king’s steeds, and seeing this, Virāṭa marvelled aloud.”
Virāṭa said:
“Whence comes this youth of noble mien,
With glance so keen, with brow serene?
His gaze is fixed upon my steeds,
Surely he knows the horse’s needs.
He shines as one of heavenly race,
A warrior clothed in humble grace.
Bring him before me—quickly go,
For such a man I long to know.”
Vaiśampāyana said:
“Then Nakula, son of Mādrī, approached the king, saluted him, and spoke with courtesy.”
Nakula said:
“Victory, O king, attend on thee,
Blest may thy wealth and kingdom be.
In training steeds my art is shown,
By kings as master I am known.
Horses I break with gentle hand,
Their temper, health, I understand.
No beast in my care falls to ill,
Even mares grow docile to my will.
By name I once was Granthika called,
By Yudhishthira I was installed.
O lord of Matsyas, if thou deign,
I’ll tend thy steeds with loyal pain.”
Virāṭa replied:
“All horses mine I place with thee,
Their keepers too in thy decree.
Wealth, dwellings, car shall be thy gain,
Chief of my stables, here remain.
Yet such an office suits thee not,
A throne entire might be thy lot.
Thy coming gladdens me as though
Yudhishthira himself I know.”
Vaiśampāyana said:
“Thus welcomed, Nakula, radiant as a Gandharva chief, entered the service of Virāṭa as keeper of horses. Beloved by all, modest and skilful, he moved unseen in his true form, undiscovered even by those about him.
And so it was that the sons of Pāṇḍu, bound by oath and patient in suffering, dwelt in the kingdom of the Matsyas. Hidden beneath humble guises, yet shining like fire veiled in ashes, they passed the year of incognito with steadfast hearts.”
Kanka the Brahman, with dice in hand,
Sat by the king at his command.
Vallabha cooked with strength concealed,
His lion power in kitchen sealed.
Bṛhannalā taught dance and song,
A bowman hid in maidens’ throng.
Granthika tamed the steeds with art,
Each horse obeyed his gentle heart.
Tantripāla, of kine the lord,
Knew every hoof and mark and cord.
And Malinī, with garlands fair,
Served the queen with braided hair.
Thus fire in ashes, sun in cloud,
The sons of Pāṇḍu veiled and bowed.
In Virāṭa’s halls they passed their days,
Awaiting dharma’s fateful blaze.
Vaiśampāyana said:
“Janamejaya, hear now how the sons of Pāṇḍu lived in Virāṭa’s court, concealed yet radiant, serving the Matsya king. By the grace of Dharma and the favour of Ṛṣi Tṛṇavindu, they remained unrecognised.
Yudhiṣṭhira, as Kanka, entertained the monarch with dice, arranging the princes in play like birds strung in a line. Whatever wealth he won from the king he distributed secretly among his brothers.
Bhīma, as Vallabha the cook, brought to Yudhiṣṭhira meats and viands from the palace stores. Arjuna, as Bṛhannalā, gave them garments and coin from the quarters of the maidens. Nakula, keeper of steeds, shared the king’s gifts with his brothers. Sahadeva, the cowherd, provided milk, curds, and ghee. And Draupadī, though suffering and disguised as Malinī, cared for them all as mother and queen.
Thus did they live together, hidden like embryos in the womb, ever watchful, guarding one another and especially Draupadī, fearful of spies from Dhṛtarāṣṭra’s sons.
After three months had passed, there came in the fourth the great festival of Brahmā, celebrated with splendour in the land of the Matsyas. Thousands of athletes gathered, men of giant frames, lion-necks and lion-shoulders, renowned in wrestling before many kings. Among them was one Jimūta, vast as Vṛtra the asura, who challenged all comers. None dared to face him. Then Virāṭa summoned his cook Vallabha.”
Virāṭa said:
“Enter the lists, O mighty one,
Show forth thy strength, thy valour’s sun.
None here will face this Jimūta’s pride,
But thou, my cook, may stem the tide.”
Vaiśampāyana said:
“Obedient, yet inwardly reluctant, Bhīma bowed to the king and entered the arena. The crowd roared with delight as the son of Vāyu girded his loins like a lion. He faced Jimūta, the titan, and the two giants advanced like twin elephants in rut.”
They grappled close with arms of steel,
Each sought the other’s strength to feel.
They hurled, they pressed, they dashed, they threw,
Till dust in clouds around them flew.
They struck with palms that cracked like mace,
With nails they tore each other’s face.
Knee crashed on knee, and head on head,
Till blood in rivulets was shed.
Like thunderbolt on mountain side,
Each shock resounded far and wide.
The people cheered, the wrestlers fought,
Each victory with fury sought.
Vaiśampāyana said:
“At last, with a mighty shout, Bhīma seized his foe by the arms, even as a lion seizes an elephant. He whirled him round a hundred times, till the man swooned, and dashed him lifeless to the ground. The crowd cried out in astonishment and joy. Virāṭa rewarded Vallabha on the spot, with gifts as bounteous as Kubera’s own hand.
Thereafter Bhīma fought and slew many athletes, and at times, to please the king and the women of the palace, grappled even with lions, tigers, and elephants.
Arjuna, meanwhile, delighted the queen and her maidens with song and dance, his grace and art concealing his might. Nakula pleased Virāṭa with swift steeds, Sahadeva with well-trained bulls, and Draupadī served Sudeshnā in silence, sighing in secret for her lords.
Thus, O king, did the sons of Pāṇḍu live in Virāṭa’s city, their greatness veiled, their sufferings hidden, awaiting the hour when fate would summon them forth.”