Stories of the Great Bharata - A Retelling

Arc 2 - Abhimanyu-Vadha Parva - Chapter 11 - The Dream of Arjuna

Sañjaya said

When night deepened over the silent camp, Dhanañjaya of unfathomed prowess sat wakeful, turning over in his mind how he might accomplish his terrible vow. Remembering the secret mantras once given him by Vyāsa, he entered meditation—and from weariness of heart and limb, he drifted into sleep.

Then, in his dream, he saw Keśava, Garuḍa-bannered, radiant as a thousand suns, approach him with a calm, unearthly smile. Out of reverence, Arjuna rose even in that vision, offered water, and laid a seat for the Lord of all creatures, though himself he remained standing.

Like dawn on snow the form divine drew near,

The cloud-complexioned Lord of sacred ear;

Brighter than moonlight on the sea of night,

He spake to Partha words of deathless might

Krishna said

“O Partha, do not set thy heart upon grief. Time is unconquerable; all beings are swept upon its tide. The wise act, they do not weep. Grief paralyses effort and gladdens the enemy. Arise, O Dhanañjaya—perform the task that must be done. To mourn is to forget thy purpose.”

Thus spake Keśava in tones that soothed and pierced alike.

Arjuna bowed and replied, his face shadowed with the weight of his oath

“Grave, O Mādhava, is the vow I have made. Tomorrow before the sun sets I must slay Jayadratha, the slayer of my child. But he is ringed about by heroes and the remnant of eleven Akṣauhiṇīs—by Drona, Kṛpa, Karṇa, and the son of Drona. How shall I pierce that wall of iron? The day is short—the sun descends swiftly. O Keśava, I fear my vow shall fail.”

Hearing this, the Lord of Yoga, compassionate, seated himself facing the east, touched pure water, and spoke again with eyes like lotus petals

“O Partha, there exists a supreme, indestructible weapon—the Pāśupata, born of the Lord of Beasts. With it Maheśvara destroyed the hosts of Daityas in ancient time. Remember Him, the Three-eyed, the Bull-bannered. Worship Him within thy heart, and through His grace the weapon shall be thine.”

Then Arjuna bowed his head and stilled his breath,

Remembering Rudra, conqueror of Death;

Brahma’s hour was come—the eastern sky grew pale,

And thought became a path, and prayer a trail.

He saw himself borne aloft with Keśava beside him, through sky and wind, faster than thought, until the Himalayan crest of Himavat glimmered like a silver flame. Together they traversed the jeweled slopes of Maināka and Manimat, bright with gemmed peaks and singing streams. They passed Mandara, the Ganges, and the gardens of Kubera; saw groves of golden fruit and rivers of crystal light. Passing mountains that shone like coal and silver, they reached the White Peak of Brahmatunga, and thence descended upon Viṣṇupāda, the holy footstep of the Preserver.

There, descending like shafts of light, they came upon a blazing height—the mountain of Śiva. Its glow equaled that of the stars and constellations. Upon its summit sat the Great Lord, the Bull-marked, the Three-eyed, shining like a thousand suns, clad in bark and skin, matted locks upon His head, trident in hand, and the goddess Pārvatī beside Him. Around them sang hosts of spirits and ascetics, Kinnaras and Gandharvas, the air fragrant with divine perfumes.

Beheld they Bhava, flaming white and vast,

Whose eyes were suns, whose breath the cosmic blast;

With Pārvatī beside Him, mild and fierce,

Whose glance could bless, whose smile the heart could pierce.

Seeing the Lord of all, Keśava and Pārtha bent their heads to the ground, uttering Vedic praises. Krishna adored Him as the origin and end of all—space, wind, fire, rain, and earth; the Supreme Brahman; wrath at the end of the age; the soul of all creatures. And Arjuna, joining palms, stood beside Him in reverence.

Then, smiling, Śaṅkara addressed the two heroes

“Welcome, O Nara and Nārāyaṇa, foremost of men! What brings ye to this place? Speak, and it shall be accomplished.”

They rose and with folded hands began a hymn of devotion, their voices mingling in a sacred cadence.

We bow to Thee, O Bhava, O Śarva, O Rudra,

Boon-giving Lord of all that lives;

To Thee of matted locks and lightning eyes,

Destroyer and Protector who ever forgives.

We bow to Thee, O Mahādeva, Three-eyed flame,

To Kapardin, to Him of the blue throat’s name;

To Pināka’s wielder, to Śaṅkara the great,

Who guardeth the worlds and governeth fate.

We bow to Thee whose eyes are the Sun, Moon, Fire,

Whose voice is thunder, whose breath inspire;

To Thee, the seed of being, the changeless soul,

The goal of sages, the world’s supreme whole.

To Thee, O death of Death, O thousand-armed!

O golden-hued, by love and power charmed;

To Thee we bow, O ever-compassionate Lord,

Grant us Thy grace, Thy weapon, Thy word!

Thus praising Him, Keśava and Arjuna adored the great God Mahādeva with mind, word, and act, seeking the gift of the Pāśupata Astra, the irresistible divine weapon.

And there, amidst the glow of the mountain and the hymn of gods, their prayer hung trembling in the air—

and Śiva, the Lord of Beasts, looked upon them with a smile that was both thunder and dawn.

Sañjaya said —

Then the son of Kuntī, Dhanañjaya, his heart now lightened and his eyes wide with wonder, stood with folded hands before that Lord whose emblem is the Bull — the Three-eyed One, the receptacle of all energies. And, O King, what marvel did he behold! The nightly offerings he was wont to lay before Keśava were lying beside the feet of Śiva, as though showing that Hari and Hara are but one flame of the same fire.

Filled with reverence, Pārtha bowed to both—the Dark-hued Lord and the White-throated One—and spoke humbly “O Lord of Beasts, I desire the celestial weapon.”

Then smiled the God, the wielder of Pināka’s might,

His matted locks a crown of light;

To Hari and to Pārtha thus He spake,

Lord of the worlds, for mercy’s sake

Śiva said

“Welcome, O Keśava and Pārtha, foremost among men! I know your purpose before you utter it. The boon you seek is already granted. Not far from here lies a lake of immortality, brimmed with Amṛta. Therein rest my ancient bow and arrow, with which I once smote the hosts of Daityas. Bring them hither, O Kṛṣṇa, for they are meant for you.”

At these words of the Great God, the two companions—Hari and Arjuna—bowed low, answering, “So be it.” Accompanied by Śiva’s attendants radiant as fire, they journeyed toward that celestial lake, a vision of wonder, its waters gleaming like the disk of the sun, its banks strewn with divine gems and flowering creepers.

As they drew near, O King, they beheld within its waters two serpents vast and fearsome. One blazed with a thousand heads; the other shone like molten gold, casting flames from his mouth. But Arjuna and Kṛṣṇa, pure in thought, touched the water, folded their hands, and bowed to Rudra. Standing on the bank, they chanted the hundred hymns of the Veda in praise of Śiva, the immeasurable, the wielder of the Trident.

Their voices rose like sacred flame,

“Hail, O Rudra! all worlds thy name;

By bow, by fire, by storm, by breath,

Thou bringest life and rulest death.”

Then, O monarch, through the power of that adoration, the serpents shed their forms and became transformed into a radiant bow and an arrow terrible to behold. Keśava and Arjuna, beholding that miracle, took up those divine weapons that glowed like lightning in their grasp. With joy they bore them back to the presence of Mahādeva.

From the left side of Śiva’s body then arose a Brahmacārin, tawny-eyed, red-haired, and blue-throated—an embodiment of ascetic energy. Taking up the bow, he fixed the arrow, and standing firm, drew the string with perfect form, murmuring mantras known only to the Lord Himself.

This content has been unlawfully taken from NovelBin; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Arjuna, watching with mind absorbed, learned every gesture, every mystic sound, every secret of that celestial archery. Then the mighty Brahmacārin loosed the arrow, sending it once more into the lake, and cast the bow after it.

The son of Pāṇḍu, understanding the sign, bowed and prayed within his heart

“Let this vision bear fruit; let my vow be fulfilled.”

Śiva, pleased, read his thought, and with a smile of flame and grace, bestowed upon him the Pāśupata Astra—the irresistible weapon that none but the pure may wield.

“Take, O Pārtha, this shaft of mine,

The Fire that ends and re-creates Time;

By it thy vow shall bear its seed,

And dharma’s cause at last succeed.”

Thus gifted by the Lord, the invincible Arjuna felt his heart swell with divine might; his hair stood on end, and he bowed low again to Hara, the Three-eyed One. Keśava too, smiling, folded his palms in reverence. Having received Śiva’s blessing, the two divine warriors—Nara and Nārāyaṇa—returned, radiant with joy, to their own camp.

Their spirits were lifted high, as when Indra and Viṣṇu themselves, granted leave by Bhava, once went forth to slay the Asura Jambha. The night of doubt had ended—

for the Lord of Yoga had smiled,

and the vow of Arjuna was already fulfilled in heaven.

Sañjaya said —

Thus, while Keśava and Dāruka conversed through the long and anxious night, the dark hours melted into dawn. The first light touched the standards of the camp, and the conch-shells sounded softly in the eastern sky. Then the son of Dharma, King Yudhiṣṭhira, rose from his slumber.

Skilled Pāṇisvanikas, Māgadhas, and Sūtas surrounded him, their songs swelling like morning waves. Dancers began their measured steps, musicians struck the mṛdaṅga and the bherī, and conches, gomukhas, and dundubhis echoed together, filling the air with auspicious thunder. The sound reached heaven itself—deep, sonorous, and pure—awakening the righteous monarch.

Yudhiṣṭhira, that tiger among men, rose from his silken bed and entered the bath-chamber for his morning ablutions. A hundred and eight attendants, all youthful and robed in spotless white, stood ready with golden jars filled to the brim with scented waters. Sitting upon his royal seat, the king bathed in waters perfumed with sandal and sanctified by sacred mantras. Strong attendants rubbed his body with oils and herbs, while fragrant vapors rose like incense. Then he rinsed himself with adhivāśa water, fresh and pure.

Having dried himself with a cloth white as the swan’s plume, he anointed his limbs with sandal paste, decked himself in fresh garlands, and put on robes of fine texture. Facing the east, with joined palms and serene mind, the son of Dharma offered silent prayers to the unseen gods.

Then he entered the fire chamber, where the sacred flame blazed bright. Feeding it with holy wood and ghee, he bowed before Agni, uttering hymns of benediction.

Before the dawn’s first crimson ray,

He hailed the gods in sacred way;

With heart serene and duty’s flame,

He offered ghee in Agni’s name.

When the rites were done, he came forth into another chamber where a thousand Brāhmaṇas, learned in the Vedas and pure in their vows, sat assembled—each radiant with the fire of austerity. Another eight thousand of the same order stood beyond them, their foreheads glowing with the light of penance.

The son of Kuntī bowed to them, and in a voice low with reverence, requested their blessings. To each he made gifts—gold niṣkas, robes, ornaments, and a hundred steeds adorned with trappings of silver. He gave also cows yielding milk at a touch, their horns plated with gold, their hoofs with silver, each attended by a calf. Circumambulating them in humility, he sought their benedictions for victory and righteousness.

Then, seeing auspicious symbols—svastikas wrought of gold, nandyāvartas, garlands, jars of water, and glowing fires—the king passed through a hall adorned with sacred emblems grains of rice, vessels of honey and curds, maidens decked in jewels, and birds of auspicious cry. Thus purified and blessed, he came to the royal chamber.

There, the attendants brought before him a circular seat of gold, overlaid with lapis lazuli, draped with a rich carpet and fine silken cloth. Yudhiṣṭhira, seated upon it, shone like Indra upon his throne of clouds. Then came the ornaments—necklaces, armlets, crowns, and gemmed anklets—each placed upon him by careful hands. When he was adorned, his beauty shone with the radiance of the midday sun, casting awe even upon the hearts of his foes.

White yak-tail fans flashed like twin moons beside him, and bards lifted songs of his praise. The palace resounded with the melody of drums, conchs, and the chant of panegyrists.

The conch resounded; steeds awoke;

The banners stirred, the dawn-light broke;

And Earth herself seemed glad to bear,

That righteous king enthroned and fair.

Then, mingled with the music of praise came the sound of wheels, the stamping of steeds, the clang of mail, and the heavy tread of elephants. The earth trembled under that blended rhythm of might and majesty.

Presently, a youthful doorkeeper—armed, bejeweled, and clad in bright mail—entered, bowing low with joined palms. He knelt upon the floor and said

“O Lord of the Kurus, Hrīṣīkeśa, the slayer of Madhu, stands at the gate, desiring audience.”

Yudhiṣṭhira, hearing these words, spoke gently “Prepare a seat of honor and bring the Arghya of welcome for Him.”

Straightway an excellent golden seat was set, and vessels filled with fragrant water and honey were brought forth. Then Kṛṣṇa, son of Vasudeva, entered the royal hall. The king of righteousness rose to greet Him, bowed low, and with clasped hands offered words of welcome. Seating Kṛṣṇa upon that costly throne, Yudhiṣṭhira duly worshipped Keśava—the friend, the guide, and the soul of the Pāṇḍavas.

Gold was the seat and sweet the word,

When Dharma’s son received his Lord;

And heaven itself, in silence deep,

Bent low to watch what men call “friendship.”

Sañjaya said —

Then, O King, the righteous son of Kuntī, Yudhiṣṭhira, saluted Devakī’s son, Janārdana, with folded hands, and greeted him cheerfully, saying,

“Didst thou, O slayer of Madhu, pass the night in peace? Are all thy senses clear and undisturbed, O thou of unfading glory?”

And Vāsudeva, the lord of all, with gentle courtesy, made similar enquiries of Yudhiṣṭhira’s welfare and comfort.

Presently an orderly entered and, bowing, announced that the other Kṣatriya warriors awaited the king’s summons.

Commanded by Yudhiṣṭhira, the man ushered in that noble assembly of heroes—Virāṭa, Bhīmasena, Dhṛṣṭadyumna, and Sātyaki of the Vrishni race; Dṛṣṭaketu the Cedi king, Drupada, Śikhaṇḍin, Nakula and Sahadeva, Cekitāna, the ruler of the Kaliṅgas, Yuyutsu of Kuru’s race, Uttamaujas and Yudhamanyu of the Pāñcālas, Suvāhu, and the five sons of Draupadī.

Those lions among men entered the chamber of the king and took their seats upon couches of gold and ivory.

Among them, Keśava and the valiant Yuyudhāna sat upon one seat, radiant as the sun and moon seated together in the firmament.

Then, in the presence of all those warriors, Yudhiṣṭhira turned toward the lotus-eyed slayer of Madhu and spoke in words deep with reverence and trust.

On thee we rest, O Kṛṣṇa, heart and breath,

Our joy in life, our hope in death;

As Indra leans upon his thunder’s might,

On thee we lean in this dread fight.

O Lord of Love, whose mercy flows,

Thou knowest all our ancient woes;

Our exile, loss, and grief of years—

Our crown of thorns, our sea of tears.

Be thou, O Keśava, our guiding boat,

When Kuru’s flood around us float;

As once thy hand the Vrishnis saved,

So now let Pāṇḍu’s sons be braved.

O God of gods, O Viṣṇu high,

Whose glance commands both earth and sky,

Lord of Śārṅga, Nārāyaṇa’s flame,

Make true, O Mādhava, thy name!

Thus did Dharma’s son, in full assembly, place his heart before the Lord. The warriors around him sat in silence, their faces lifted toward Kṛṣṇa, who seemed as calm as the ocean before a storm.

Then Keśava, the wielder of the discus, his voice deep as rain-bearing clouds, replied in words that filled all hearts with courage

“No archer lives, nor ever shall,

To match Arjuna’s might in hall or battle-call.

Endued with youth, with lion’s gait and gaze,

He blazes forth as Indra’s own in mortal ways.

His wrath consumes, his strength prevails,

His vow the very heavens hails.

Today, before the setting sun,

Jayadratha’s life shall be undone.

Though gods should guard him, ranks surround,

By Arjuna’s shafts shall he be found;

For none can foil that fatal art—

The Pasupata burns in Arjuna’s heart.

Vultures shall feast, and jackals cry,

When Sindhu’s lord in death shall lie;

And Jishnu, crowned with victory’s light,

Shall stand before thee ere falls the night.”

Hearing these words of Keśava, Yudhiṣṭhira’s heart grew calm. The fever of grief left him like mist before the rising sun. The warriors, too, lifted their heads in renewed strength; for in the Lord’s voice was the music of destiny itself—

assuring them that by dusk, the slayer of Subhadrā’s son would be no more,

and Arjuna, victorious, would return crowned in the light of his fulfilled vow.

Sañjaya said —

While Yudhiṣṭhira, Keśava, and the assembled heroes were still conversing on that bright morning, Dhanañjaya entered the royal pavilion. His armour gleamed like gold in the dawn, and his face shone with the calm of purpose fulfilled. Desirous of seeing the king and his kinsmen before the day’s great trial, he advanced and bowed low before Yudhiṣṭhira, touching his feet in reverence.

Then that tiger among men, the son of Dharma, rose from his throne, and with tears of affection embraced his brother. He kissed Arjuna’s head as a father greets a long-lost son, and said with a smile that lightened every heart

O child of Pāṇḍu, thy face is bright,

The omen’s flame is clear in sight;

Where Keśava’s grace upon thee lies,

Sure victory waits beneath the skies.

Then Jishnu, the mighty-armed, bowing again, recounted before the king and all his companions the marvellous vision of the night — his encounter with the Three-eyed Lord, his receiving of the Pāśupata weapon, and the benediction of victory.

As he spoke, wonder filled that august assembly. The heroes bowed to the unseen Mahādeva, murmuring, “Excellent, excellent is the favour shown by Rudra to Arjuna.” Their hearts, already steadfast, burned brighter with courage and devotion.

At the command of Yudhiṣṭhira, all the princes and warriors, their spirits inflamed by wrath and righteousness, prepared for battle. They saluted the king, and then Yuyudhāna, Keśava, and Arjuna departed cheerfully from Yudhiṣṭhira’s chamber.

The two Vrishni heroes, Sātyaki and Janārdana, mounted together upon the same car and proceeded to Arjuna’s pavilion. There, Hrīṣīkeśa, that master of charioteers, himself began to equip the car of the ape-bannered hero.

That divine chariot, bright as molten gold and resounding like a thundercloud, blazed forth under His touch. The pennant bearing Hanumān’s image streamed proudly in the wind. When all was ready, Keśava informed Pārtha, who had completed his morning devotions, that his car stood prepared.

Then Pārtha came, with golden mail,

And bent his head to prayer’s avail;

He walked around his car of might,

As priests invoked his path of light.

The Brāhmaṇas blessed him with holy song,

Their words of fire made his spirit strong;

Like Sūrya rising o’er the hill,

He shone, his vow a living will.

Thus sanctified, Arjuna ascended his chariot, radiant as the morning sun upon Meru’s crest. Behind him stood Sātyaki and beside him Keśava, the Lord of all beings. Those three shone together like the celestial triad — Indra, the Aśvins, and Varuṇa setting forth to war.

Govinda took the reins in His hand as Mātali guideth Indra’s steeds, and the white horses — Śaivya, Sugrīva, Meghapuṣpa, and Valāhaka — neighed like storm clouds eager for release.

Then the drums, conches, and trumpets burst forth. The bards sang hymns of victory; the panegyrists uttered auspicious benedictions. The breeze blew from behind, carrying fragrance and fortune, caressing Pārtha’s banner while sapping the strength of his foes.

A host of omens appeared, bright and propitious — fires burned without smoke, the cries of birds were sweet, and the sky glowed clear. The hearts of the Pāṇḍavas rejoiced, while those of the Dhārtarāṣṭras trembled.

Then said the son of Kuntī, bright,

To Sātyaki, whose arms were might

“O bull of Sini’s race, this day,

All omens lead to victory’s way.

The Sindhu king shall meet his fate,

My vow shall open heaven’s gate;

Yet one more duty binds my heart—

To guard the king while I depart.

Be thou his shield, his steadfast wall,

For none may shake thee—none at all;

Not Indra’s self thy strength can move,

So guard our lord with loyal love.

Where Keśava stands and I abide,

No peril’s storm can there reside;

Go, friend, protect the king today,

While I fulfil my fateful way.”

Thus spoke Arjuna, his voice calm as thunder before rain. Sātyaki, the lion of the Sātvatas, bowing low, answered briefly, “So be it.” Then, taking leave of Pārtha and Keśava, he turned his steps toward the royal pavilion to stand by the son of Dharma.

Meanwhile, Arjuna, radiant with divine armour and guided by the Lord of the Universe, set his gaze upon the horizon where Jayadratha awaited his doom.

The chariot rolled forth like a sun-driven storm,

and the world itself seemed to hold its breath.

Thus ends the Abhimanyu-vadha Upaparva —

the arc recounting the valiant deeds, the fall, and the heavenly ascent of Abhimanyu,

son of Arjuna and Subhadrā;

his mother’s lament, the vow of vengeance sworn by Dhanañjaya,

the divine granting of the Pāśupata weapon,

and the dawn of the fateful day

when the Sindhu king Jayadratha was destined to meet his end.