novelraw Arc 7 - Chitraratha - Chapter 3 - Chaitraratha
Arc 7 - Chitraratha - Chapter 3 - Chaitraratha
Vaiśampāyana continued his narration:
Thus, after hearing their mother’s counsel, Kuntī spoke gently to Bhīma, Arjuna, and the twin sons Nakula and Sahadeva, regarding the journey to Pāñcāla. The brothers, always obedient, bowed their heads and said:
“So be it, O mother; thy wisdom is our guide.
Wherever thou leadest, we shall follow,
For a mother’s will is the path of dharma.”
Having thus agreed, they approached the venerable Brahmana whose house had sheltered them through many trials. Bowing low with reverence, they saluted him with folded hands and words of gratitude. Then, with blessings received, Kuntī and her sons set forth toward the sacred land of the Pāñcālas, where destiny awaited them.
As they prepared to depart, O Janamejaya, an auspicious visitor arrived—the sage Vyāsa, son of Satyavatī, knower of past, present, and future. Clad in bark, radiant with tapas, his arrival was like a cool breeze upon parched earth.
Beholding the sage of boundless wisdom,
The Pāṇḍavas rose swiftly, their hands joined in reverence.
They bowed low, offering him worship,
As one offers water to the rising sun.
Vyāsa, seeing their humility and devotion, was pleased. Seating himself upon a sacred seat, he addressed them gently:
“O sons of Pāṇḍu, are ye walking the path of dharma?
Do ye honor the Brahmanas, protect the weak,
And show reverence where it is due?
May virtue be ever your constant guide.”
After speaking of many sacred truths, Vyāsa turned to them with words laden with fate’s hidden design:
“Hear now, O princes, of a tale most strange,
Rooted deep in karma’s web.
In ages past, a chaste maiden dwelt
In a hermitage of sages pure.
Slender of waist, with brows like painted arcs,
Her beauty shone like a lotus bloom.
Yet though adorned with every grace,
She found no husband in that life.
With heart distressed, she turned to penance,
Seeking union through Mahādeva’s boon.
The great god Śaṅkara, moved by her tapas,
Appeared before her, pleased and kind:
‘Ask, O maiden, what thou desirest;
No boon shall be denied to thee.’
Filled with longing, she pleaded thus:
‘Grant me a husband endowed with every virtue.’
Five times she uttered her prayer aloud,
And Śiva, smiling, thus replied:
‘Because thy words have called for five,
Thou shalt indeed have five husbands—
Princes of the Bharata line—
In another birth, O blessed one.’
Distraught, the maiden pleaded still:
‘O Lord, let me have but one alone!’
But Śiva spoke again with calm:
‘The words are spoken; so it shall be.’
Know, O mighty sons of Pāṇḍu, that maiden of surpassing beauty is now reborn in Drupada’s line as Kṛṣṇā, the dark-hued Draupadī. She is destined to be the wife of you all, joined to your fates by divine will.
Through her, O heroes, your destiny unfolds;
Joy and sorrow shall mingle in your path.
Go now unto Pāñcāla’s capital,
And let the wheel of time turn forward.”
Thus spoke the great sage Vyāsa, unveiling the mystery that tied their futures to the house of Drupada.
Vaiśampāyana continued:
Having thus spoken, the illustrious Vyāsa, ocean of wisdom, blessed the sons of Pāṇḍu and prepared to depart. His eyes, deep as the cosmic void, lingered upon them for a moment, as though witnessing all that was yet to come.
“May dharma guard your every step,
May destiny unfold its sacred design.
Fear not, O tigers among men,
For what is written shall surely be.”
With these words, the great sage rose. The Pāṇḍavas bowed low, their hands joined in reverence, as one offers homage to the rising sun.
Slowly the sage withdrew,
Like the setting of the crimson moon.
The winds grew still, the trees stood silent,
As Vyāsa vanished into the sacred wood.
Thus did the grandsire depart, returning to his distant abode, leaving behind sons whose fates were bound now to Pāñcāla and to the unfolding will of the gods.
Vaiśampāyana continued:
After the great sage Vyāsa had withdrawn into the forest's sacred depths, the Pāṇḍavas, those bulls among men, offered final reverence to the Brahmana whose house had sheltered them. With respectful farewells, they set forth joyously, their hearts light with hope, and Kuntī, the noble mother, walking ahead to lead her sons.
Northward they moved, beneath the stars,
The cool night air upon their brows;
Day and night they pressed ahead,
Toward the land that fate had marked.
Thus, traveling by steady foot, they came upon a holy shrine of Mahādeva—Lord Śiva, the three-eyed one, whose brow bears the crescent moon.
There in silent awe they stood,
Beneath the god’s eternal gaze;
The forest whispered sacred songs,
As moonlight bathed the wooded glades.
Soon they reached the mighty Ganga, her sacred waters gleaming beneath the pale glow of night. At the forefront strode Dhanañjaya—Arjuna the mighty bowman—bearing a flaming torch to light their path and guard against the lurking beasts of the night.
But in those very waters, O Janamejaya, another presence stirred. The proud king of the Gandharvas, Angārparṇa by name, was sporting with his wives in the moonlit waves, his celestial retinue dancing and laughing in joy.
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The scent of night-blooming lotuses rose,
The Ganga’s waves caressed their feet;
Celestial music filled the air,
As Gandharva wives wove garlands bright.
Yet as the Pāṇḍavas approached the riverbank, their footsteps echoed through the still night. Hearing these sounds, the Gandharvas paused. Angārparṇa’s brows furrowed with sudden anger.
“Who dares disturb my sport?” he cried,
His voice like thunder cleaving sky.
“This hour belongs to beings free—
The Yakṣas, Rakṣasas, and we.”
Drawing his great bow in a gleaming arc, Angārparṇa addressed the intruders with scorn:
“Know ye not the law of twilight?
The first forty moments of dusk—
This time belongs to the beings of ether;
Men who trespass invite their doom!
Even kings with countless troops
Dare not approach these sacred pools.
Fools are they who violate this hour,
And by us and Rakṣasas are swiftly slain!
I am Angārparṇa, Gandharva proud,
Friend to Kuvera, king of wealth.
This forest bears my mighty name;
Its glades and waters are my realm.
Neither gods nor Yakṣas dare approach
My sovereign pools upon the Ganga.
How then dare ye—mere men—
Intrude upon my celestial sport?”
Thus spoke the radiant Gandharva, his voice reverberating through the sacred night, while his companions gazed with flashing eyes.
Vaiśampāyana continued:
Hearing the proud words of the Gandharva, Arjuna, the son of Indra, stepped forward, his voice ringing with steady defiance:
“Foolish one! Whether it be day or night,
Who dares forbid man the earth’s wide gifts?
The Himalayas, the vast oceans, this Ganga—
Are these barred by the whims of any being?
Hunger does not wait for hour or dusk;
Nor does virtue wait on your pride.
The sacred Ganga, daughter of Himavat,
Falls from golden heights to bless all worlds.
Divided into seven streams she flows—
Ganga, Yamunā, Sarasvatī, Vitastā,
Sarayū, Gomati, and Gandaki—
Washing clean the sins of countless souls.
In heaven she is Alakanandā,
Among the Pitṛs she is Vaitaraṇī.
Vyāsa himself hath declared her merit;
She leads to heaven those who seek her touch.
O Gandharva, why then this arrogance?
Who are you to bar men from her waves?
Your boast defies dharma’s law;
You speak not the words of the righteous.
Therefore, disregarding your idle threats,
We shall approach this sacred stream.
None may forbid what the gods have given;
The Bhāgīrathī flows free for all.”
At these words, O King, the wrath of Angārparṇa blazed like kindled fire. Drawing his mighty bow into a shining circle, he let fly arrows swift as venomous serpents, their tips gleaming in the moonlight.
His shafts sped forth like streaks of flame,
Hissing through air with dreadful force;
Like cobras loosed from a mountain cave,
They raced toward the sons of Pāṇḍu.
But Arjuna, master of weapons, stood unshaken. With one hand, he held high the burning torch; with the other, he wielded a broad shield, turning aside every arrow that sought his life.
The sparks from his torch leapt like fireflies,
Dancing among the rain of shafts;
His shield flashed bright like Indra’s vault,
Defying the furious storm of steel.
Then, his voice calm amid the onslaught, Arjuna spoke again to the raging Gandharva:
“O sky-ranger, waste not your strength
Upon those who know the art of war.
Against skilled hands, vain are weapons—
Like froth dissolving in the sea.
Yet since thou art no mortal foe,
I shall not strike with crooked means.
With celestial arms shall we contend,
That power meet power, as equals fight.
This weapon I now prepare to loose—
The fiery Astra divine.
Vṛhaspati gave it to Bharadvāja,
From him to Agniveśya passed it on.
Agniveśya bestowed it upon Droṇa,
My master in the art of arms;
And from Droṇa’s hand it came to mine—
A lineage of sacred might.”
Thus declaring, Dhanañjaya invoked the fiery Astra, his form blazing like a second Agni beneath the star-filled heavens.
Vaiśampāyana continued:
Having declared his celestial lineage, Arjuna invoked the blazing fiery Astra and hurled it toward the Gandharva with wrathful precision. The weapon flared like a second sun, consuming the Gandharva’s chariot in a brilliant conflagration.
Flames leapt high into the night,
The chariot’s frame dissolved in fire;
The horses screamed, the wheels collapsed,
As embers scattered like falling stars.
Deprived of consciousness by the fierce energy of the weapon, Angārparṇa fell headlong from his burning chariot. Before his limp form could strike the earth, Dhananjaya seized him swiftly by his long, flower-adorned hair, and dragged the unconscious Gandharva before his brothers.
The flames still flickered in the sky,
As Arjuna stood, victorious and calm;
The forest wind sang a somber hymn,
Bearing witness to dharma’s power.
At this sight, the Gandharva’s wife, Kumbhīnāśī—her heart gripped by terror and grief—rushed forward and fell at Yudhiṣṭhira’s feet, her voice trembling with desperate plea:
“O king of virtue! Protect me, I pray.
Release my husband from his fate.
I am Kumbhīnāśī, his wedded wife;
Mercy, O lord, is the ornament of the strong.”
Hearing her supplication, Yudhiṣṭhira, ever firm in righteousness, turned to Arjuna and spoke with gentle authority:
“O child, who slays one already vanquished?
Stripped of power, fame, and strength,
Protected by a grieving wife,
No glory lies in such a deed.
Mercy is the crown of victory;
Compassion the might of kings.
Release him, O Arjuna—
Let virtue shine brighter than arms.”
Obedient to his brother's dharma, Arjuna lowered his hand and spoke to the defeated Gandharva:
“O Gandharva, thy life is spared;
Go forth and grieve no longer.
Yudhiṣṭhira, lord of the Kurus,
Commands thy release in mercy’s name.”
Rising slowly, his pride humbled but his spirit kindled with admiration, the Gandharva bowed before Arjuna and said:
“O hero of peerless strength,
I have been conquered by thy might.
No longer shall I bear the name
‘Angārparṇa, the blazing car.’
My chariot, once my pride and title,
Lies reduced to ashes now.
Let me henceforth be called by another name—
For boasting ill becomes the vanquished.
Yet fortune smiles upon me, O Arjuna!
For having been defeated, I now gain thee.
Receive from me a gift most rare:
The secret of Gandharva illusion!
This sacred science, born of tapas,
Was passed from Manu unto Soma,
From Soma unto Viśvāvasu,
And from Viśvāvasu unto me.
It is called Chākṣuṣī—the vision of sight.
One who holds it may behold
All things, in all ways he desires;
The hidden, the distant, the unseen revealed.
Long ascetic penance wins this art,
Standing one-legged for six full months.
But unto thee, O slayer of foes,
I shall bestow it freely, without austerity.
For such is the reward of mercy given,
When one spares the fallen foe.
This knowledge makes us Gandharvas
Superior to men in the ways of perception.”
Thus, O Janamejaya, even in defeat the Gandharva repaid Arjuna with a gift beyond worldly treasure—a celestial art that reveals the unseen paths of existence.
Vaiśampāyana continued:
The Gandharva, his pride subdued but his heart filled with gratitude, spoke once more to Arjuna with joy:
“O best of men, know that by the gift of this Chākṣuṣī sight,
We Gandharvas behold all realms,
The seen and the unseen, the near and the far;
In vision we stand equal to the gods.
But hear also of another gift I offer:
To thee and thy noble brothers I bestow
A hundred steeds of Gandharva kind,
Born in the celestial regions of our race.
Though lean of flesh, they tire not in flight;
Their speed matches the mind’s own swiftness.
Endowed with hues of rainbow flame,
They bear the gods and sky-born beings.
In ancient days, when mighty Indra
Received the thunderbolt to strike down Vṛtra,
That Vajra shattered into myriad pieces,
Yet its fragments still infuse the world.
The hand of the Brahmana pouring sacrifice,
The Kṣatriya’s chariot that cleaves the field,
The Vaishya’s charity, the Śūdra’s loyal service—
All embody portions of that thunderbolt’s power.
Know that horses, bound to the Kṣatriya’s chariot,
Are also born of this sacred force.
Especially those born of Vāḍavā’s line
In Gandharva realms—
These steeds defy fatigue, change their hue,
And travel as their masters wish.”
Thus, O King, the Gandharva offered Arjuna both his secret knowledge and the gift of his celestial steeds. But Arjuna, ever guided by humility, answered with righteous clarity:
“O Gandharva, though thou art pleased to reward me
For sparing thy life in battle’s heat,
I cannot accept thy gifts freely,
For the balance of honor would weigh unequal.
Let there be mutual exchange between us,
That friendship may stand upon even ground.
Take from me, O friend, my Fire Astra—
The eternal weapon granted by Droṇa’s hand.”
The Gandharva, delighted, replied:
“So be it! Let this bond endure.
I receive thy weapon of fire,
And in return, the steeds and science are thine.
May our friendship flourish through all ages.”
Thus enemies became companions bound,
As virtue turned strife to sacred bond;
The forest night bore silent witness
To dharma’s higher path fulfilled.
Then Arjuna, his heart still curious, inquired further:
“O Gandharva, tell us this, we pray:
Why should men, though virtuous and trained,
Fear the Gandharvas in night’s dark hours?
Why dost thou forbid our travels at twilight?
We are chastisers of foes, followers of dharma,
Learned in Vedic law and righteous paths;
Yet we have been censured by thee tonight.
Reveal to us, O friend, this cosmic rule.”
Thus questioned, the Gandharva prepared to disclose the hidden truths of dharma, destiny, and the divine laws that govern men and celestials alike.
Vaiśampāyana continued:
Thus questioned by Arjuna, the Gandharva smiled, his voice soft yet luminous with celestial wisdom, as he explained the hidden laws that govern the worlds:
“O sons of Pāṇḍu, know that I censured you
Not for want of virtue or noble birth,
But because you stood apart from dharma’s full path—
Bereft of certain protections due.
Ye are without wives though your studies are complete,
Without an āśrama properly declared,
And no Brahmana priest walked before you
To sanctify your journey’s path.
O heroes, such is the custom among gods,
Among Yakṣas, Rākṣasas, Gandharvas,
Pīśācas, Uragas, and Dānavas too—
They all hold knowledge of ancient ways.
From Nārada and sages high,
I’ve heard of your noble ancestors;
And roaming across this earth entire,
I too have seen your house’s fame.”
The Gandharva continued, his gaze resting softly on Arjuna:
“O tiger among men, I know your mighty preceptor,
Droṇa of Bharadvāja’s great line,
Whose Vedic lore and martial arts
Are renowned across the three worlds.
I know your divine sires as well:
Dharma, Vāyu, Indra, the Aśvin twins,
And your father Pāṇḍu, mortal son.
All these I know, O scions of Kuru.
Brave you are, high-souled and learned,
First among all masters of arms;
Observant of vows, virtuous in conduct—
You walk firmly in dharma’s light.”
Then lowering his voice with grave reflection, the Gandharva spoke of his wrathful outburst:
“Yet still I spoke harshly, O Partha,
For no man of strength may bear insult
In his wife’s presence without response—
So is the law of warriors and gods.
Our might, O Kuru prince, waxes at night;
And so, in my passion, I challenged you.
But now hear why I fell to thy hand:
The power of brahmacharya shields the pure.
O slayer of foes, while you are yet unmarried,
Walking the path of self-restraint,
You wield a strength subtle and vast
Before which even night-beings fall.
Had you been a married Kṣatriya,
You could not have bested me by force alone.
Yet if a married king sanctified by Brahma,
Guided by a pure priest, takes up arms—
Then even Gandharvas may fall before him.”
Then, like a teacher revealing secret wisdom, the Gandharva spoke of kingship and priesthood:
“O child of Tapati! The king who seeks prosperity
Must ever honor the Brahmana wise;
He who is pure, self-restrained, and Veda-taught,
Becomes the king’s celestial guide.
A monarch with such priest beside him
Acquires the earth, encircled by seas;
And even heaven’s gates are opened
To the sovereign who walks thus rightly.
Valor and birth alone cannot sustain
The rule of kings upon the earth;
But where Brahmana wisdom governs,
There the kingdom endures eternal.”
“Know, O perpetuator of Kuru’s race,
The kingdom shall flourish evermore
Where Brahmanas possess due power,
And kings heed their virtuous counsel.”
Thus, O Janamejaya, did the celestial Gandharva reveal the secret unity of king and priest, power and dharma, valor and wisdom—threads upon which the fate of rulers hangs.