novelraw Arc 5 - Sambhava - Chapter 30 - The 5 Pandavas
Arc 5 - Sambhava - Chapter 30 - The 5 Pandavas
Vaiśampāyana said:
O Janamejaya, when Gandhārī’s conception had completed a full year, it was then that Kuntī, remembering the boon of Durvāsas, invoked the eternal god of justice to obtain a child.
Without delay, she offered the prescribed oblations and chanted the sacred mantra imparted by the sage. Drawn by the power of her invocation, Dharma himself—resplendent as the Sun—descended in his divine form and stood before her.
Smiling, the god spoke gently:
“O Kuntī, what boon dost thou seek?”
And Kuntī, serene and composed, replied with a smile,
“Grant me a child—pure, righteous, and mighty.”
Thus, by the union of Dharma and Kuntī—though he came to her in spirit alone—was born a son, radiant and noble, a blessing to the world.
At the eighth muhūrta called Abhijit, on the bright fifth day of Kārttika, under the ascendant moon in Jyeṣṭhā constellation, that excellent child was born.
And from the heavens an incorporeal voice proclaimed:
“Foremost among men shall he be,
Upholder of truth and piety.
In dharma rooted, strong and wise,
Let Yudhishthira’s glories rise.”
Thus was born the eldest son of Pāṇḍu—truthful in speech, firm in dharma, and destined to rule the earth.
Pāṇḍu, having obtained that virtuous son, spoke once more to Kuntī:
“The wise declare that a Kṣatriya must be endowed with great strength—
Without power in arms and frame, what warrior is he in truth?
Ask, then, O noble one, for a son of boundless might.”
Thus commanded, Kuntī invoked the Wind-god, swift-moving Vāyu.
He came riding upon a deer, radiant in his form, and said with a voice like thunder,
“O Kuntī, what dost thou desire? Declare what lies in thy heart.”
With modest smile and lowered eyes, Kuntī replied:
“Grant me, O best among the celestials, a child of immense strength and vast limbs—
One who can humble the pride of all who boast of power.”
At her request, Vāyu joined with her in spirit and begot a mighty son—
Bhīma of iron arms, of fierce might, the terror of foes.
And when the child was born, a voice resounded through the sky:
“Among the strong shall he stand first—
His wrath a storm, his grip a curse.
Thunder-limbed and battle-blessed,
In strength, this child shall outmatch the rest.”
O Bhārata, listen further to a wonder that followed the birth of Vṛkodara.
While still an infant, Bhīma fell from his mother’s lap upon a rocky slope.
Kuntī had risen in fright at the sudden approach of a tiger,
Unaware that the child slept nestled against her.
The babe, falling with force upon the mountain’s breast,
Shattered the stone into a hundred pieces—
Yet his body, hard as the vajra, was unharmed.
Seeing this marvel, Pāṇḍu stood in silent awe.
And know, O best of the Bhāratas,
That on the same day Vṛkodara was born,
Dhṛtarāṣṭra’s son Duryodhana too entered the world—
The one who would one day claim dominion over the earth.
After the birth of Vṛkodara, Pandu again began to think. "How am I to obtain a son far superior, one who shall achieve world-wide fame? Everything in this world depends both on destiny and personal exertion. Yet even destiny yields only through timely and sincere effort. We have heard it said that Indra is the foremost among the gods. Indeed, he is endowed with immeasurable might, energy, prowess, and radiant glory. If I can gratify him through penance and devotion, then I may obtain from him a son of unparalleled strength—one who surpasses all others, and who can vanquish in battle both men and beings beyond men. Therefore, I shall undertake the severest austerities, with full commitment in heart, deed, and word."
After this, the Kuru king Pandu, taking counsel with the great ṛṣis, instructed Kunti to observe a sacred and auspicious vow for a full year. Meanwhile, Pandu himself began the severest austerities: standing upon one leg from morning until dusk, restraining the senses, and fixing his mind in meditation—all to propitiate Indra, the king of the gods.
Days turned to seasons, and at last, the thousand-eyed god was moved by his devotion. Then, shining with the brilliance of a storm-lit sky, Indra descended and addressed Pandu, his voice like thunder rolling across the peaks:
“O son of Kuru, thy penance hath pleased me well.
A child I shall grant, of strength none can quell.
He shall shield the meek, and punish the vile—
A hero whose fame shall stretch mile upon mile.
Protector of kine, and friend of the just,
In his arms shall the wicked turn to dust.
Fierce in the fight, yet in virtue supreme,
A prince of the gods, born out of dream.”
Hearing these divine words, Pandu, ever mindful of dharma, turned to his wife and spoke with joy:
“O Kunti, thy vow hath borne sacred fruit. The lord of the celestials has been appeased. Soon, through his grace, thou shalt bear a son of radiant might—invincible in battle, noble in wisdom, and radiant as the Sun himself. He shall be the delight of his kin and the scourge of all who walk the path of adharma. Call now upon Indra, and receive into thy womb the virtue of kings.”
"From heaven’s king, a child shall rise,
With lightning-glare and fire-bright eyes.
Upholder of law, and slayer of lies—
A warrior god in mortal guise."
Vaiśampāyana continued:
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Thus addressed by her lord, the virtuous and steadfast Kuntī invoked Śakra, the king of the gods. He came unto her, radiant like a storm-cloud bearing thunder, and from their divine union was born a son destined for greatness.
As soon as the child emerged into the world, a deep, resounding incorporeal voice echoed through the sky—its thunderous tone heard by every creature dwelling in the forest retreat.
“This son of thine, O Kuntī, shall match Kārtavīrya in might,
In power he rivals Rudra’s light.
Peerless in valor, like Indra above,
He shall fill thy life with unending love.
As Viṣṇu brought joy to Aditi’s name,
So shall Arjuna uplift thy fame.
From Madra to Kāśi, from Cedi to Kuru’s land,
He shall conquer all with bow in hand.”
The voice continued, a divine oracle across the sky:
“When Khaṇḍava burns in Agni’s flame,
Through him the fire shall earn its name.
With strength to shake both gods and men,
He’ll cleanse the earth with sword and pen.
Sacrifices three he’ll see fulfilled,
By noble deeds and warrior’s will.
He shall please Maheśvara in battle’s glare,
And earn the mighty Pāśupata there.”
The son of Indra, blessed at birth by such celestial prophecy, would one day destroy the Nivātakavachas—those Dānava foes of heaven—and reclaim the fortune and fame of the Kuru race. He would be the one to master every divine weapon, the hope of his brothers, and the glory of his lineage.
“O Kuntī, rejoice, thy son is born—
Of godlike strength and warrior’s form.
Arjuna his name, wide shall it ring,
In dharma and battle, unrivaled king.”
Kuntī, resting within her chamber, heard those extraordinary words reverberate through the air—loud, clear, and otherworldly. At their sound, the ascetics who dwelt upon the mountain of a hundred peaks raised their eyes in astonishment, and the celestials, seated in their radiant aerial chariots beside Indra, were filled with joy.
The heavens echoed with the rhythmic beat of invisible drums. The entire sky bloomed with garlands of celestial flowers descending in showers, as if the very firmament rejoiced.
From unseen hands the blossoms fell,
And all the sky rang like a bell.
The air was sweet with sacred sound—
The earth with joy and light was crowned.
The hosts of divine beings assembled in reverence to honor the newborn child of Pṛthā. From every corner of the heavens they came—the serpents born of Kadru, Garuḍa the mighty son of Vinatā, the celestial musicians and singers, and the Prajāpatis, ancient lords of creation.
There also arrived the seven great ṛṣis: Bharadvāja, Kaśyapa, Gautama, Viśvāmitra, Jamadagni, Vasiṣṭha, and the illustrious Atri—he who once illumined the world in the Sun’s absence. Their presence bathed the scene in sanctity.
The sages came with voices clear,
To hail the child with blessings near.
From time's beginning they had trod—
The silent paths once walked by God.
Marīci, Aṅgiras, Pulastya, Pulaha, Kratu, Dakṣa—the patriarchs of old—were also seen among them, accompanied by Gandharvas and the shining host of Apsarases. Adorned in celestial garlands and ornaments, clad in silken robes that shimmered like moonlight, these heavenly nymphs danced in unison, singing praises to Vibhatsu—he who would later be called Arjuna.
All around, the great ṛṣis chanted maṅgalamantras—sacred hymns of blessing and protection, their voices rising like incense into the heavens.
They sang of dharma, fate, and fire,
Of warrior's heart and kingly ire.
A child was born, the gods did see—
A beacon of the Kuru tree.
The sound of heavenly music soared across the skies as Tumburu, leader of the Gandharvas, sang in enchanting notes. In accompaniment came Bhīmasena and Ugrasena, Urṇāyus and Anagha, Gopati and Dhṛtarāṣṭra, and Sūryavarchas, the eighth in the chorus. Yugapa and Trināpa, Karṣṇi, Nandi, and Citraratha, followed by Śāliśira the thirteenth, Parjanya the fourteenth, and Kali the fifteenth—each with voices like flowing rivers. Nārada, the divine sage and minstrel, was the sixteenth.
Celestial choirs in rhythm rose,
With voice and lyre in sweet repose.
The skies themselves in joy were stirred,
As hymns of Arjuna’s birth were heard.
Great souls and famed singers such as Vṛhatta and Vṛhaka, Karāla the ascetic, Brahmacārin and Bahuguṇa, joined with Suvarṇa of renown, and Viśvāvasu, Bhūmanyu, and Suchandra. Then came the legendary tribes of Hāhā and Hūhū, famed for their magical melody.
The Apsarases—celestial nymphs of peerless beauty and grace—gathered in radiant splendor to dance and sing. Among them were Anuchanā and Anavadya, Guṇamukhyā and Guṇavarā, Ādrikā and Soma, Miśrakēśī and Alambuṣā, Mārīcī and Sucikā. Alongside them danced Vidyutparṇā and Tilottamā, Ambikā, Lakṣmaṇā, and Kṣemadevī, as well as Rambhā, Manoramā, Asitā, Suvāhu, Supriyā, and Suvapuh. Also present were Puṇḍarīkā, Sugandhā, Sūrasā, Pramathinī, Kāmyā, and Śāradvatī.
They danced like stars in woven flight,
Their anklets chimed with golden light.
Heaven's garden bloomed anew—
As Arjuna’s fame to future grew.
Menakā, Sahajānyā, Karṇikā, Puñjikasthalā, Ṛtusthalā, Ghṛtācī, Viśvācī, Pūrvacittī, and the radiant Ūrvaśī came to sing in chorus, along with the famed Pramlōchā and Ūlōchā. These daughters of immortality, gifted with heavenly allure, filled the firmament with movement and song.
The twelve Ādityas—Dhātṛ, Aryaman, Mitra, Varuṇa, Bhaga, Indra, Vivasvat, Pūṣan, Tvaṣṭṛ, Parjanya, Viṣṇu, and Savitṛ—descended from the heavens to glorify the birth of Pāṇḍu's son.
The lords of light with banners bright
Came riding through the day and night.
From sun and fire, their voices came—
To bless the child of sacred name.
The eleven Rudras followed: Mṛgavyādha, Sarpa, Nīriti, Ajaikapāda, Ahirbudhnya, Pinākin, Dahana, Īśvara, Kapālin, Sthāṇu, and Bhaga, of blazing forms and terrible might.
The Aśvinī twins, the eight Vasus, the mighty Maruts, the Viśvedevas, and the Sādhyas were present in full array. The Nāgas, too, came in majestic coils: Karkoṭaka, Vāsuki, Kacchapa, Kuṇḍa, and the great serpent Takṣaka, lords of the underworld, radiant with tapas.
Tārkṣya, Ariṣṭanemi, Garuḍa, and Asitadhvaja flew in, and Aruṇa and Aruṇi of Vinatā’s line graced the skies.
The winds stood still, the clouds held breath,
As gods arrived from life and death.
To honor one who soon would rise—
A thunderbolt beneath the skies.
Only the ṛṣis crowned with ascetic power could behold the full extent of this divine assembly—celestial beings seated in aerial chariots or stationed atop mountain peaks. The sight astounded them. In that moment, their love and admiration for the sons of Pāṇḍu grew deeper, as if touched by divine will itself.
The celebrated Pāṇḍu, still moved by the desire for more children, contemplated once again requesting Kuntī to invoke another deity. But before he could speak, Kuntī gently addressed him with measured words:
“O noble one, the wise do not approve of a fourth union, even in times of distress. A woman who lies with four different men is known as a svairiṇī—a woman of free conduct. But if she lies with five, she is deemed a harlot in the eyes of society and scripture.
Therefore, O learned king, you who are well-versed in the sacred law—why do you speak thus, forgetting, it seems, the ordinance prescribed by the sages? Are you truly unaware, or are you letting desire cloud the clarity of dharma?”
Vaiśampāyana said:
After the birth of Kuntī’s sons and also of the hundred sons of Dhṛtarāṣṭra, the daughter of the king of the Madra—Mādrī—privately addressed Pāṇḍu and spoke thus:
“O slayer of foes, I do not complain, even if you are less kind to me than to Kuntī. Nor do I resent that though by birth I am her superior, I am regarded as lower in station. I do not grieve, O sinless one, that Gāndhārī has borne a hundred sons. But this, above all, is the sorrow that weighs upon me: while Kuntī and I are equals, I remain childless, and she alone bears you sons.
If the daughter of Kuntibhoja were to grant me the chance to bear children as she has done, it would be a great favour to me—and a benefit to you as well. Yet she is my co-wife and rival, and I feel a certain hesitation in asking her myself. But if you are truly well-disposed towards me, O king, then speak to her and seek this favour on my behalf.”
Hearing these words, Pāṇḍu replied, “O Mādrī, I have often pondered this matter in my own heart, yet I held back, not knowing how you would receive it. Now that I know your wish, I shall act without delay. I am certain that Kuntī, if asked by me, will not refuse.”
Vaiśampāyana continued:
After this, Pāṇḍu addressed Kuntī in private, saying, “O Kuntī, grant me more offspring for the continuation of my lineage and for the welfare of the world. O blessed one, ensure that I, my forefathers, and yours as well may always receive the funeral offerings. Do what is truly beneficial for me—grant both me and the world that which is the highest of blessings.
Even if the task is difficult for you, I implore you—undertake it, driven by the desire for imperishable fame. Behold, even Indra, though he holds the sovereignty of the celestials, still performs sacrifices solely for renown. Brahmanas well-versed in the Vedas and rich in ascetic merit approach their gurus with devotion, seeking fame. Likewise, royal sages and ascetics alike endure great austerities only to earn eternal renown.
Therefore, O flawless one, extend thy grace to Mādrī—rescue her like a raft rescues one adrift. Let her too become a mother, and through that act, secure for thyself fame that shall never fade.”
Thus addressed by her lord, Kuntī consented without hesitation and turned to Mādrī, saying, “Choose, without delay, a celestial being. Whomever you invoke, you shall indeed bear a son like him.” After a moment’s reflection, Mādrī invoked the twin Aśvins. They appeared swiftly and begot upon her two sons—twins of radiant beauty—named Nakula and Sahadeva, matchless among men for their grace.
At their birth, an incorporeal voice resounded from the heavens:
“In brilliance and form, in strength and fame,
These twins shall outshine the Aśvins’ name.
With every glance, the earth shall see
The gods reborn in dynasty.”
Blessed with energy and charm, the twins seemed to fill the land with light.
O King, when all five children had been born, the Ṛṣis who lived upon the sacred mountain of a hundred peaks gathered. With joy they chanted blessings, lovingly performed the sacred rites, and bestowed names upon the noble sons. The eldest of Kuntī’s children was named Yudhiṣṭhira, the second Bhīmasena, and the third Arjuna. Of Mādrī’s sons, the elder twin was named Nakula, and the younger, Sahadeva.
Born year after year in divine succession, these sons stood together like the five fingers of fate—distinct, yet united in purpose. King Pāṇḍu, beholding their celestial form, immense vigor, and deep inner strength, was filled with delight. The children, radiant and virtuous, won the hearts of the Ṛṣis and their wives alike, who took great joy in nurturing them amidst the quiet grandeur of the mountain retreat.
Some time later, King Pāṇḍu once again approached Kuntī, gently requesting her to aid Mādrī further. But the noble daughter of Kuntibhoja, when addressed thus in private, responded with restraint, saying:
“I granted her the sacred mantra only once, O king,
Yet from that boon two sons did spring.
By trick or chance she gained her way—
While I gave truly, she made it play.”
“Have I not, then, been outwitted?” she continued. “O king, I fear she will soon surpass me in the number of children born. This is the way of cunning women—always finding advantage in the smallest turn. Alas, I was ignorant that by invoking the twin deities one might be granted twins in return. Foolish was my understanding. Therefore, I entreat you, let this be the last request you ask of me. Grant me this boon—that I shall not be asked again.”
Thus, O king, were born unto Pāṇḍu five sons from divine fathers—each imbued with celestial vigor, destined for renown, and fated to uplift the Kuru line. They bore every auspicious sign upon their bodies and grew in grace and power with each passing year.
Their chests were broad, their arms like steel,
Their gaze unwavering, minds of zeal.
With lion-hearts and footsteps grand,
They strode as princes born to command.
Handsome as the moon-god Soma, skilled with the bow, proud and valiant, their gait and gaze marked them as lords of men. The Ṛṣis who dwelt upon the sacred, snow-crowned peaks watched them mature with awe. Indeed, these five sons of Kuntī and Mādrī, and the hundred sons of Dhṛtarāṣṭra, flourished in strength and virtue, blooming together like a lotus grove in the still waters of the Kuru destiny.