Stories of the Great Bharata - A Retelling

Arc 5 - Sambhava - Chapter 40 - The Rise of the Pāṇḍavas in Hastināpura

Vaiśampāyana continued:

After the lapse of a year, O King, Dhṛtarāṣṭra, moved by affection and guided by the counsel of the elders, installed Yudhiṣṭhira, the son of Dharma and Kuntī, as the yuvarāja—the heir apparent to the throne of the Kurus.

It was not merely due to birth, but to guṇa, for Yudhiṣṭhira shone with the qualities of a true ruler—firm in resolve, patient in trial, gentle in speech, open-hearted, and unwavering in satya and dharma. His conduct was pure as clarified butter poured into the sacred fire, and his mind, a well-governed realm of wisdom.

In but a short time, Yudhiṣṭhira's noble bearing and unwearied devotion to duty won the love of the citizens and nobles alike, and his fame began to outshine even that of his father Pāṇḍu, the tiger among kings.

With steady hand and modest grace,

He walked the path of dharma's face.

Beloved of people, firm yet mild,

The world rejoiced in Dharma’s child.

Meanwhile, Bhīma—Vṛkodara, the iron-limbed—was entrusted to the mighty Balarāma, the elder brother of Kṛṣṇa, who taught him the arts of mace-wielding, sword-play, and chariot warfare. Under the guidance of Sankarṣaṇa, he grew in might like unto Dyumatsena of old, the warrior of blazing strength.

When his training was complete, Bhīma roamed like a lion among men, ever loyal to his brothers, but fierce in prowess and eager for combat.

Arjuna, the third-born, became renowned far and wide. No warrior of the age could match him in skill. He was the master of all forms of weaponry—straight and curved, light and heavy.

Kṣura and Nārāca, Vala and Vipatha—

Each weapon obeyed his sovereign will.

Swift was his draw, like lightning’s path,

His aim was death, precise and still.

So deft was his hand, so faultless his aim, that Droṇa—preceptor of heroes and guardian of arms—declared before all:

“There is none, O kings, in this world or beyond, who is equal to Arjuna in speed, skill, and precision. In the realm of weapons, he stands alone, like the sun among stars.”

Vaiśampāyana continued:

One day, before the assembled Kaurava princes and noble elders, Droṇa, the master of weapons and wisdom, turned toward Arjuna, his foremost disciple, and spoke with grave and measured tone:

“O son of Pāṇḍu, know now of a weapon that burns even memory.

There was once a mighty disciple of sage Agastya, named Agniveśa,

And I was his chosen pupil. From him I received the celestial Astra—

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

The Brahmaśira—terrible, invincible, a fire that consumes the three worlds.

It can scorch heaven and split the earth,

And no mortal force may stand its birth.

But mark this, Arjuna, brave and wise:

Use it not on men of humble size.”

The preceptor then revealed that by the strength of his austerities, he had mastered that divine missile, which could be passed only to one worthy in discipline, valor, and self-restraint. He now held it ready to bestow.

“And of all this earth’s sons, thou alone art deserving of this celestial power,” Droṇa said. “But heed the command of Agniveśa: never shall this weapon be loosed upon the weak or unworthy. Now, Arjuna, give me the guru-dakṣiṇā—the fee due to thy teacher. Let all these sons of kings be witness.”

Arjuna stood tall, his eyes steady, his voice clear.

“Whatever thou demandest, O preceptor, that shall I fulfill.”

Droṇa then declared his fee: “When the time comes, thou must meet me in battle, and match thy strength against mine.”

Before the lords of Kuru’s line,

Arjuna bowed with reverence fine.

“Thy word I take, thy path I tread—

If war must come, our arms shall wed.”

Touching his master’s feet with humility, Arjuna departed northward. And even as he left, a great cry arose from the gathered multitude:

“Hail to Arjuna, bow’s true flame—

None on earth can match his aim!”

Indeed, in the use of weapons—whether the sword, the mace, or the bow—none could rival him. He mastered every missile: the Kṣura, the Nārāca, the Vala, the Vipātha, and all that flew straight or curved, light or heavy. With fluid grace and unwavering eye, he became the terror of enemy ranks.

Meanwhile, Sahadeva, the youngest, received the full science of Dharma and ethics from Bṛhaspati, the guru of the gods. Under Yudhiṣṭhira’s direction, he lived humbly, but with wisdom vast as the sea.

Nakula, peerless in beauty and beloved of all, became through Droṇa’s teaching a masterful swordsman and charioteer, earning the title Atiratha, a warrior of highest rank.

As their fame spread, the Pāṇḍava brothers began to exert their might beyond the halls of Hastināpura.

Arjuna, supported by Bhīma, began a series of campaigns, conquering mighty kings and distant realms. The great king of the Sauvīras, who had performed a sacrifice of three years' length and was protected even from Gandharva raids, was overthrown by Arjuna’s might.

The proud lord of the Yavanas—whom even mighty Pāṇḍu could not subdue—was humbled by Arjuna’s bow. And Vipula of the Sauvīras, who had long scorned the Kuru lineage, was forced to acknowledge their strength.

From east to west, from south to sea,

His banner flew in victory.

With but one car and Bhīma's might,

He conquered all, and set things right.

Even Dattamitra, called Sumitra, the valiant king of Sauvīra, who had issued a bold challenge, found himself defeated and shamed.

The third-born of Kuntī then turned his chariot southward and conquered all the kings of that quarter with a single ratha, returning to the Kuru kingdom with spoils vast and unheard of, his fame echoing like a war-drum across Bhārata.

Thus did the illustrious sons of Pāṇḍu, guided by Dharma and ablaze with valor, sweep across the compass of Bhārata, conquering proud kings and extending the frontiers of their dominion. Their fame echoed through mountain and plain, river and court, like the sound of the celestial drum struck in heaven.

Wherever they went, they upheld justice; wherever they conquered, they left peace.

With bow in hand and truth in heart,

They played the Kṣatriya’s noble part.

No land could halt their forward tread—

The sons of Kuntī, by Dharma led.

But in Hastināpura, under the shade of the Kurus' royal canopy, dark thoughts stirred like storm clouds over a tranquil lake.

Beholding their increasing strength, their celestial prowess in arms, and the love they inspired among the people, King Dhṛtarāṣṭra—who once held them dear—felt the creeping touch of fear. That fear, nurtured in silence and shadow, turned swiftly to suspicion and envy.

From that day forward, O King, the aged monarch could no longer rest in peace. His heart, once swayed by affection, now trembled with unease. And even in the stillness of midnight, when sleep embraced the world, Dhṛtarāṣṭra lay awake, his mind tormented by thoughts of the Pāṇḍavas' might.

“Too bright they shine,” he thought in dread,

“And from their glory, doom is bred.

Shall my sons stand, or fall instead—

Beneath Kuntī’s lion-hearted tread?”

Thus was the seed of disquiet sown in the court of the Kurus—

A seed that would one day grow into war.