novelraw Arc 2 - Go-Harana Parva Chapter 2 - Vrihannalā helps the Prince of Matsya
Arc 2 - Go-Harana Parva Chapter 2 - Vrihannalā helps the Prince of Matsya
Vaiśampāyana said:
When the dust and the night’s gloom had wrapped the field, both armies, though fierce in wrath, held their order, resting awhile. Then the moon arose, silver and cool, dispelling the darkness, gladdening the weary Kṣatriyas. As the light spread, the clash was renewed, fiercer than before, till warriors could no longer discern friend from foe.
Susarman, lord of the Trigartas, burning with fury, pressed hard upon king Virāṭa. With his younger brother he cut down Virāṭa’s steeds, slew his charioteer, and overwhelmed the guard at his rear. Dragging him helpless, they placed the Matsya king upon Susarman’s own car, and bore him away captive, as a lustful man might bear off a defenseless maiden.
The Matsya troops, seeing their lord seized and their ranks shattered, fled in fear. Then Dharmarāja Yudhiṣṭhira turned to mighty Bhīma and said:
"The king of Matsya is taken by the Trigartas. O Bhīmasena, redeem our debt to him who gave us shelter. Rescue him, that he fall not into the hands of foes. We have lived in his city, guarded and honoured; it behoveth thee now to repay him with thy arms."
Bhīma, licking the corners of his mouth, replied:
"So be it, O king! Stand thou aside and behold what my strength shall do. I shall rout the foe even with this tree for my mace!"
But Yudhiṣṭhira checked him gently:
"Restrain thy wrath, O Vṛkodara! Take not up a tree, for that deed will reveal thee. The world will say, ‘This is Bhīma!’ Take, rather, a bow, a dart, or a sword, such as men wield. Thus, unseen, thou shalt free Virāṭa, and none will know thee."
Hearing this, Bhīma snatched up a great bow and loosed shafts thick as a monsoon rain. Arrows rained upon the Trigarta ranks, cars shattered, elephants fell trumpeting, horsemen reeled and fled. Then he rushed upon Susarman, crying aloud:
"Stay, wretch! Stay! Face me now, and witness my might!"
Terrified, Susarman turned his car. Yet within moments Bhīma cut down all that opposed him. Yudhiṣṭhira smote a thousand, Bhīma sent seven thousand to Yama’s abode, Nakula slew seven hundred, and Sahadeva three hundred more.
At last Yudhiṣṭhira himself challenged Susarman, piercing him with volleys of shafts. Bhīma then crushed his steeds, slew his followers, and hurled his charioteer to the ground. Virāṭa, leaping down, seized a mace and, though aged, rushed like a youth into the fray.
But Bhīma, bounding from his car, seized Susarman by the hair. With the strength of a lion seizing a deer, he dashed him down. Placing his knee upon his breast, he struck him blows that made the Trigarta lord senseless. The whole Trigarta host, seeing their king fallen, broke and fled in panic.
Then Bhīma, binding Susarman fast, dragged him like a beast and laid him upon a car before Yudhiṣṭhira. The son of Dharma, smiling gently, said:
"Let this wretch be set free."
But Bhīma growled:
"Not so! If he would live, let him declare before all men—‘I am a slave!’* Such is the law of the vanquished."
Then Yudhiṣṭhira, ever merciful, spoke softly:
"Release him, O Bhīma. He is already slave to king Virāṭa. Spare him; let him go free, and sin no more."
So Susarman, shamed and broken, was set at liberty. Thus did the sons of Pāṇḍu, concealing their might, rescue Virāṭa and scatter the Trigartas.
Vaiśampāyana said:
Thus addressed by Dharmarāja, king Susarman was overwhelmed with shame, and hanging down his head, accepted his release. Freed from captivity, he went first to king Virāṭa, bowed low, and then departed with heavy heart.
The sons of Pāṇḍu, modest and steadfast in their vows, having scattered the Trigartas and restored the kine, passed that night upon the battlefield in peace. Virāṭa, gladdened beyond measure, poured forth gratitude upon those heroes of superhuman prowess. With honour, wealth, and soft words he sought to reward them, saying:
"All these gems, all this wealth of mine, are now yours as much as mine. Dwell here at your pleasure, O mighty warriors. Damsels adorned with ornaments, wealth in plenty, steeds, elephants, and treasures of every kind I shall bestow upon you. Delivered from peril by your arms, I am today crowned with victory. Therefore, be ye the lords of the Matsyas!"
Then the Pāṇḍavas, led by Yudhiṣṭhira, bowed with joined palms and answered with humility:
"O king, well-pleased are we with thy gracious words. Yet greater is our joy that thou hast been freed from the grasp of thine enemies. That, indeed, is our truest reward."
Hearing this, Virāṭa once more spoke with devotion:
"Come, O son of Dharma, let us install thee as sovereign over the Matsya land! Rich gifts, rare on earth, I shall bestow—gems, kine, gold, rubies, and pearls—for thou art worthy of all. O foremost of Brāhmaṇas in guise, it is by thy wisdom and prowess that I behold today my sons, my city, and my realm safe once more. Threatened as I was by disaster, it is through thee that I have not fallen beneath the power of my foes."
But Yudhiṣṭhira, ever steadfast, replied gently:
"O king, we are content with thy words, which delight our hearts. Mayst thou ever walk in dharma, protecting all creatures with humanity. Now, let messengers swiftly depart for the city to proclaim thy victory, so that thy people may rejoice, and thy friends be gladdened."
At his command, Virāṭa ordered the messengers forth:
"Go ye quickly into the city and announce my triumph in battle! Let the maidens, decked with ornaments, come forth with music and song to greet us."
Hearing these words of their lord, the messengers placed the mandate upon their heads and departed with cheerful hearts. That very night they entered the city, and when the sun rose in splendour, they proclaimed from the gates the victory of king Virāṭa.
Vaiśampāyana said:
When the king of the Matsyas had gone forth with his army in pursuit of the Trigartas and their captured kine, then Duryodhana, with his trusted counselors, seized the occasion to invade the dominion of Virāṭa.
Bhīṣma and Droṇa, invincible in battle, Kṛpa skilled in every weapon, Karṇa of fiery energy, Aśvatthāman, Śakuni the son of Suvala, Duḥśāsana, Vivingsati, Vikarna, Chitrasena of great strength, Durmukha, Duḥsaha, and many other renowned warriors of the Kuru host, suddenly fell upon Matsya’s land. Surrounding the cow-pens with countless chariots, they swept away the herds, sixty thousand kine in number, bellowing in fear as they were driven off by the clatter of arms.
The cowherds of Virāṭa, smitten sorely by the Kurus, raised cries of grief that filled the land like the wails of a storm-tossed sea. One chief of the herds, trembling with terror, mounted a swift chariot and sped towards the city. Entering in haste and alighting at the palace, he rushed to the inner apartments where the prince Bhūminjaya, son of Virāṭa, tarried among the women. Bowing low, he cried in anguish:
"O prince, disaster hath fallen! The Kurus have swooped upon our land and are driving away sixty thousand kine. Rise up, enhancer of Matsya’s glory! Seize thy bow, mount thy car, and let not thy father’s boast be falsified. Day after day in the court he saith: ‘My son is equal to myself, a hero of arrows and weapons, a support to our race, a warrior of steadfast courage.’ Let not these words of the king prove vain!"
"Go forth like a tusker rushing upon a herd. Pierce the ranks of the Kurus with thy golden-winged shafts, swift from thy bow like musical notes from a Vīṇā. Thy bow is that Vīṇā—the ivory tips its pillows, the taut cord its string, the polished staff its finger-board, and the arrows its ringing notes. Play, O prince, that melody of destruction in the midst of the foe!"
"Let thy steeds of silvery whiteness be yoked to thy chariot. Hoist aloft thy lion-banner of gold. Let thy shafts blot out the very sun and stop the Kurus in their track. As the wielder of the thunderbolt smote the Asuras in ancient days, so do thou smite these proud Kurus and return to the city laden with fame and victory. Thou art to Matsya what Arjuna is to the sons of Pāṇḍu—the one refuge, the one protector. We, the subjects of this realm, place our hope in thee alone!"
Vaiśampāyana continued:
Thus urged by the cowherd before the eyes of the women, the youthful prince, puffed up with pride, sitting amidst the inner chambers, spoke words of self-praise.
Vaiśampāyana said:
When the cowherd’s urgent tidings had been delivered, the young prince Uttara, proud in spirit and filled with vainglory, rose amidst the women of the palace and boasted in a voice loud and exultant.
Uttara said:
“Steadfast am I in the use of the bow, firm as a mountain peak.
Were but a skilful hand to guide the steeds, this very day I would ride forth in the track of the stolen kine.
But alas, my charioteer fell in the long war that raged for eight-and-twenty nights, and I find none fit to hold the reins.
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Yet once I gain a driver, I shall unfurl my lion-banner and plunge into the midst of the Kurus’ host of elephants, steeds, and cars.
Like a second wielder of the thunderbolt will I scatter them;
Duryodhana, Bhīṣma, Karṇa, Droṇa and his son, and Kṛpa shall tremble to behold my wrath.
This day shall the Kurus whisper in astonishment, ‘Is it not Arjuna himself who bars our way?’
Then, like Indra returning from slaying the Daityas, I shall bring back the herds to Matsya’s fold.”
Vaiśampāyana continued:
Hearing these high words of the prince, Arjuna, who knew the truth of all things, smiled within himself. In secret he turned to Krishnaa, Draupadī of the fire-born grace and slender waist, ever faithful to her lords, and softly said:
“Beloved, tell the prince this: Vrihannalā, whom he knows as the eunuch, was once the charioteer of Arjuna himself. In many battles he held the reins of my steeds and proved himself resolute and skilled. Bid Uttara take him for his driver—then shall his wish be fulfilled.”
At this, Draupadī, hearing the constant boasts of Uttara likening himself to Arjuna, could no longer bear the mockery of fate. Blushing, yet resolute, she stepped forth from among the women and spoke gently:
“This youth, tall as an elephant and fair of face, whom you call Vrihannalā, was indeed the chosen charioteer of Arjuna.
I knew him well in the days when I dwelt with the sons of Pāṇḍu.
It was he who guided Arjuna’s steeds when Agni devoured the Khaṇḍava forest;
it was with him as driver that Pārtha conquered the world at Indraprastha.
In truth, there is no charioteer equal to him.”
Uttara, still doubtful, replied:
“O Sairindhrī, thou knowest this youth; thou knowest what one of the neuter sex may or may not be. Yet I cannot myself entreat Vrihannalā to hold the reins of my steeds.”
Then Draupadī said with calm assurance:
“If thy sister of the fair hips will but speak the word, Vrihannalā will obey. Let her request him, and thy return shall be crowned with victory, the kine restored, and the Kurus vanquished.”
Thus urged, Uttara turned to his sister and said:
“Go, O maiden of faultless beauty; seek out Vrihannalā in the dancing-hall and bring him hither.”
Obeying her brother, the princess hastened with swift steps to the hall where Arjuna, disguised as Vrihannalā, the strong-armed son of Pāṇḍu, was teaching the arts of dance and song.
Vaiśampāyana said:
The fair princess of Matsya, golden-garlanded and slim-waisted, with peacock plumes in her hair and anklets tinkling as she moved, hastened like lightning flashing towards a dark cloud—the dancing hall where Vṛhannalā dwelt. She shone with the splendour of Lakṣmī, her hips girt with pearls, her eyes wide as a gazelle’s, her limbs graceful as a creeper.
There she beheld Arjuna in disguise, the son of Pṛthā, and with modesty bowed before him.
Arjuna, as Vṛhannalā, said:
“Why hast thou come, O gazelle-eyed maiden, decked with gold and radiant garlands?
Why is thy brow clouded, thy lips pale, thy step hasty?
Speak, O fair one, what grief or need compels thee?”
Vaiśampāyana continued:
The princess, standing amidst her attendants, spoke with proper shyness:
“The kine of Matsya are driven away by the Kurus. My brother goes forth with bow in hand to meet them, but his charioteer has been slain.
None equal to him remains, and Sairindhrī, who knows thy skill, spoke of thee.
Thou wert once Arjuna’s chosen driver, and with thee he conquered the earth and aided Agni at burning of the Khāṇḍava.
Therefore, O Vṛhannalā, take the reins of my brother’s steeds!
If thou refuse, O friend, I who come in affection will renounce my life.”
So addressed by the maiden of swan-like gait, Arjuna rose and went with her, she following like a she-elephant after her young. When Uttara beheld them, he exclaimed:
“With thee as charioteer, Arjuna gratified Agni in Khāṇḍava and subdued the world!
Sairindhrī has praised thy skill, saying thou knewest the sons of Pāṇḍu well.
Take now my reins, O Vṛhannalā, and drive me against the Kurus. For thou wert once Arjuna’s beloved charioteer!”
Arjuna (as Vṛhannalā) replied with feigned humility:
“How should I, a singer and dancer, guide steeds in battle?
If it be music or steps of dance, I can delight thee; but in the clash of arms, what can I do?”
But Uttara urged:
“Be thou singer or dancer, hold the reins today! Without loss of time, mount my car and guide my steeds.”
Vaiśampāyana said:
Though master of all weapons, Arjuna, in play, made mistakes in donning armour, lifting the corselet wrongly, so that the maidens laughed aloud. Uttara, amused, himself clad Vṛhannalā in a shining mail, and donned for himself a blazing coat of solar radiance. Raising aloft his lion-banner, he set Vṛhannalā as his charioteer.
With many bows and quivers stored upon the car, Uttara stood eager, while his sister and her maidens said playfully:
“O Vṛhannalā, bring us bright garments for our dolls when thou returnest, after vanquishing the Kurus whose leaders are Bhīṣma and Droṇa!”
Then Partha, deep-voiced as thunder, smiling, answered:
“If Uttara indeed routs those warriors, I shall surely bring back cloths, fine and many, for your play.”
Thus, with steeds yoked and banner raised, Arjuna drove forth the prince. Women and Brāhmaṇas of Matsya blessed them as they circled the car, saying:
“May the victory once won by Arjuna at Khāṇḍava, when he aided Agni, be thine, O Vṛhannalā, today when thou meetest the Kurus with Uttara!”
Vaisampayana said:
Issuing forth from the gates of the city, the dauntless son of Virata spoke to his charioteer with the eagerness of one born to the bow. “Drive on,” he said, “to where the Kurus stand. I shall rout these gathered warriors who have come desirous of victory, and reclaim the kine they seized. Then swiftly shall I return to the capital.”
At the prince’s command, the son of Pandu urged the noble steeds onward. Fleet as the wind, crested with ornaments of gold that flashed like sunlit fire, those coursers, driven by that lion-hearted warrior, seemed to cleave the very air.
They had scarcely traversed much ground when those two smiters of foes—Dhananjaya and the young scion of Matsya—beheld the vast array of the Kurus. Nearing the old cremation ground, they saw the enemy’s army drawn up in perfect order, a living wall of elephants, chariots, and armored men.
In its immensity that host resembled the heaving sea, or a forest of innumerable trees uprooted and moving across the sky. Dust arose from the marching ranks, veiling the heavens and dimming the vision of all creatures.
There stood the Kurus—mighty, bristling, disciplined—shielded by Karna, Duryodhana, Kripa, Bhishma the son of Śāntanu, and the irresistible master Drona with his invincible son Aśvatthāman. Beholding them, O king, the son of Virata trembled, the hairs on his body rising in fear as he turned to Partha and said:
“I cannot fight these Kurus. Look how my limbs shiver, how my breath falters! This host, countless and fierce, is not one I can face. Even the celestials would hesitate before these bowmen of terrible valor. How shall I, a mere youth, penetrate the army of the Bharatas—its horses, its elephants, its banners, its crushing chariots?
“My mind reels at the sight of Drona and Bhishma, Kripa, Karna, Vivingsati, the mighty Aśvatthāman, Vikarna, Saumadatti, Vahlika, and the king Duryodhana himself—foremost among car-warriors. My heart sinks; my breath escapes me. I cannot stand before these smiters assembled in their battle array.”
Vaisampayana continued:
Thus, out of childish fear and clouded judgment, Uttara lamented before the high-souled Arjuna, still disguised as Vrihannala. “My father,” he cried, “has marched against the Trigartas with all our troops, leaving me alone in this empty city. Bereft of warriors, a boy untrained, how shall I, unaided, face these innumerable masters of weapons? Turn back, O Vrihannala! Turn back before ruin claims us both!”
But Arjuna, still veiled in his dancer’s attire, spoke in calm reproach:
“Why does fear pale your face
and gladden the hearts of foes?
Not yet have you loosed a single arrow—
why flee before the battle begins?”
He continued:
“It was you who commanded me to drive toward the Kauravas. I shall therefore take you toward those very banners you pointed out. Whether they fight for kine or for the sovereignty of the earth itself, I will lead you into their midst. And having boasted before the men and women of the city of your valor, will you shrink now from the test?
“If you return without regaining the kine, both warriors and maidens will deride you. As for myself—I cannot return without them, praised as I have been by the Sairindhrī for my skill at handling the chariot. For her praise, and for your earlier words, I stand ready to fight. If you will not, then remain where you are.”
But Uttara cried in desperation:
“Let the Kurus plunder the Matsyas of all their wealth; let me be mocked by men and women alike; let the kine perish, and the city fall to ruin—still I will not fight, O Vrihannala! Let my father behold me shamed; even so I shall flee, for what is battle to me?”
At these words, the terrified prince, shining still with golden earrings yet bereft of courage, leapt down from the chariot. Casting aside his bow and arrows, he fled across the field, abandoning honor and the pride of his heritage.
Then Vrihannala spoke sternly:
“Not thus acts a son of kings,
forsaking the field in fear.
Death in righteous battle is nobler
than life won through cowardly flight.”
Having said this, Arjuna—the son of Kunti—sprang from the chariot and ran after the fleeing prince. His braided hair streamed behind him, his red garments billowed like a flame in the wind.
Not knowing that it was Arjuna himself whose braid danced in the air, many Kuru soldiers laughed aloud at the sight. Some pointed, some whispered, and others mocked the strange figure running across the field.
And seeing this, the Kurus wondered among themselves:
“Who is this person, disguised—like fire covered in ashes—running with such swiftness? What strange secret hides beneath this form, that moves like a dancer yet strides like a warrior?”
Thus did they murmur, O king—unaware that the very bowman who would scatter them like chaff in a storm was advancing toward them under the guise of a eunuch, with destiny coiled upon his brow.
Vaisampayana said:
Beholding that bull among men—Arjuna himself—seated upon the chariot in the guise of a person of the third sex, and seeing him drive swiftly toward the great Śamī tree with the fleeing Uttara gathered up beside him, all the foremost warriors of the Kurus became troubled at heart. Bhīṣma, Droṇa, Kripa, Karṇa, Duryodhana—each one, O king—felt fear rise within them, suspecting that the approaching figure could be none other than Dhananjaya, son of Prithā.
And as they gazed, strange omens, terrible and celestial, began to stir the sky and earth. Seeing these portents, the mighty preceptor Droṇa—foremost among all wielders of arms, son of Bharadvāja, whose knowledge of weapons flowed like a sacred river—spoke in grave and solemn tone:
“The winds blow fierce and hot today,
hurling gravel through the air;
the heavens dim to ashen smoke,
the thirsty clouds hang bare.
The weapons rattle in their sheaths,
as though remembering war;
the jackals howl from every side,
our banners shake in fear.”
Then Droṇa continued in measured speech:
“Behold! The horses shed tears, their hearts trembling with dread. Fire glimmers on the horizon though no grass burns. Banners quiver though no wind stirs them. These omens, O Kurus, speak of great danger. Stand vigilant, array your forces with care, and protect the herd of kine. A terrible slaughter approaches—guard yourselves well!
“The one who comes in the attire of a woman is none other than Partha. Of this there is no doubt. O scion of the Ganges,” he said to Bhīṣma, “this is Kīrīti—named after the celestial tree; the son of Him who smote the mountains; the warrior whose banner bears the emblem of the devastator of Lanka’s gardens. After vanquishing us, he will surely reclaim the kine.
“This chastiser of foes is the heroic Savyasāchin, son of Prithā—equal in battle to Indra himself, taught by the king of the gods. He contends even with gods and demons and does not draw back. Wronged in exile, honed in hardship, he comes now in wrath. I see none among the Kurus able to withstand him.
“It is known that even Mahādeva, disguised as a hunter in Himavat’s heights, was pleased with this son of Prithā after testing him in battle. Such is the warrior who now approaches.”
Hearing these words, Karṇa replied with disdain:
“You ever praise Fālguna while censuring us! But Arjuna is not equal to even a sixteenth part of myself—or of Duryodhana. Do not magnify him beyond measure.”
Then Duryodhana, laughing confidently, said:
“If this is indeed Pārtha, O Rādheya, then our purpose is fulfilled! For if the Pāṇḍavas are discovered, they must wander the forests for twelve more years. And if this be some other person masked in the garments of a eunuch, I shall cast him to the earth with sharp and deadly arrows.”
Having declared thus, the son of Dhṛtarāṣṭra looked around with pride, and Bhīṣma, Droṇa, Kripa, and the son of Droṇa—Aśvatthāman—applauded his bold speech, though their hearts remained troubled by the omens and the name of Arjuna that echoed in their thoughts.