SUDHA MURTY

THE SERPENT’S REVENGE

Unusual Tales from the Mahabharata

Illustrations by Priyankar Gupta

PUFFIN BOOKS
 Contents

Dharmakshetra Kurukshetra
Introduction

1. The Man Who Became a Woman

2. The Ring of Memory
3. The One Who Split the Vedas
4. The Cursed God
5. Arjuna and His Different Names
6. The Rishi’s Revenge
7. Food for the Fire God
8. The Enchanted Vessel
9. The Legacy of Indradyumna
10. The Yaksha’s Quiz
11. A Weapon of Mass Destruction
12. For Want of a Flower
13. The Ingenious Ghatotkacha
14. The Face of God
15. The Unusual Fighter
16. Krishna the Master Strategist
Jarasandha
Whose Side Should I Be On?
The Five Golden Arrows
The Illusion of Sunset
Drona’s Achilles’ Heel
The Sun Child
The Last Man Standing
Barbarika
17. The King of Udupi
18. The Price of Loyalty
19. The Golden Mongoose
20. The Lost Son
21. The Lucky Boy
22. Chandi and Uddalaka
23. The Last Journey
24. The Serpent’s Revenge
25. The Cycle of Vengeance

Glossary
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 PUFFIN BOOKS
THE SERPENT’S REVENGE

Sudha Murty was born in 1950 in Shiggaon in north Karnataka. She did her
MTech in computer science, and is now the chairperson of the Infosys
Foundation. A prolific writer in English and Kannada, she has written
novels, technical books, travelogues, collections of short stories and non-
fictional pieces, and four books for children. Her books have been
translated into all the major Indian languages. Sudha Murty is the recipient
of the R.K. Narayan Award for Literature. She received the Padma Shri in
2006 and the Attimabbe Award from the Government of Karnataka for
excellence in Kannada literature in 2011.
 Also in Puffin by Sudha Murty

Grandma’s Bag of Stories

How I Taught My Grandmother to Read and Other Stories
The Magic Drum and Other Favourite Stories
The Magic of the Lost Temple
The Bird with Golden Wings
To Krishnaa Khurana,
especially for you
 Dharmakshetra Kurukshetra

A great war was fought between the Pandavas and the Kauravas in the
battlefield of Kurukshetra—a place which is considered sacred to this day.
This war was called Dharma Yuddha, or the fight for dharma.
On the first day of the war, Arjuna surveyed the huge army on the
opposite side. He saw his grand-uncle Bhishma, his guru Drona and his son
Ashwatthama, his maternal uncle Shalya and many of his dear cousins.
All of a sudden, he was overwhelmed by sadness, and he decided that he
didn’t want to fight any more for the sake of a piece of land. He set aside
his bow and other weapons and communicated his decision to Krishna.
Krishna understood what was going through Arjuna’s mind. So he
disclosed his true self to Arjuna in the form of Vishwarupa Darshana—for
he was none other than the omnipresent Lord Vishnu. Krishna went on to
advise Arjuna:

I am the creator, protector, and destroyer

I am the supreme and the smallest being
The whole world runs per my wish
You are only an actor in a scene
Just act well with whatever is handed to you
That is your duty
The rest you leave to me
I will manage
Everything is as it should be
I know the past, the present and the future
I am everywhere

Firmly and yet gently, Krishna explained the concepts of duty, dharma,
knowledge and righteousness to Arjuna.
This is known as the Bhagavad Gita, popularly called the Gita—the holy
book of the Hindus that serves as a guide to harmonious living.
 After listening to Krishna, the inspired Arjuna picked up his weapons to
fulfil his duty without worrying about the results of his actions.
 Introduction

When I was a very young girl, I heard a lot of old ancient tales. I was an
inquisitive child and asked many questions when the story didn’t convince
me. It happened so often that my family eventually got tired of my endless
questions and said firmly, ‘The tales elaborate exactly what our scriptures
say and you must accept them the way they are.’
So I stopped my enquiries—I didn’t have any other choice. But I knew
that I couldn’t accept the tales the way they were narrated to me.
When I grew up, the same questions plagued me. I wondered, ‘Am I
interpreting the tales the way I am supposed to? Are my opinions fair?’
But this time, I had access to a whole lot of books on the subject and so I
could form my own opinions.
Over time, I realized that there was a difference between history and the
books we call the Puranas. The Puranas are based on history, but they are
less accurate. It is highly likely that in the past generations, the stories were
passed down through word of mouth. Just like a game of ‘Chinese
Whispers’ in which a sentence changes when it passes through different
people, the stories possibly and unintentionally changed over time to
include myths, lies and exaggerations.
With that assumption, I decided to ignore as much of the exaggeration as
I could and understand the crux of the stories. For instance, Ravana in the
epic Ramayana is famous for his ten heads. These are symbolic of his
intelligence and his ability to think in multiple ways. In Indian mythology,
we often portray a being or a creature with multiple limbs. It doesn’t mean
that the person is different or abnormal. It is usually only a figurative
representation of the strength or the skill of that individual. Sometimes even
a serpent is a depiction of an individual from the Naga tribe.
Many races and tribes lived in the times of the various Puranas—such as
the devas (or the gods), the Nagas (the serpent people), the kings (the royal
aristocrats) and the asuras (or the demigods who were classified as
demons). The devas and asuras were equally great warriors who were
forever at loggerheads, with the asuras inevitably almost always guided by
wrong desires.
My dear readers, you will come across many curses and boons in the
stories ahead. Most of the time, they are not what they seem. Don’t ever
forget that these tales are not practical or real—they are simply stories. Our
ancestors must have thought that the best way to discourage evil in the
world is through the depiction of curses and thus making one fear doing
wrong. In the same way, good deeds were rewarded with boons. God, in my
opinion, is compassionate. He doesn’t get upset or curse like us mortals or
the ancient sages. Just like a loving mother, He can never bear ill-will
towards His children. So be the person you are and do good in the world.
In the great epics like the Mahabharata and the Ramayana, you will find
tales that are less popular but exquisitely charming. They inspired me to
attempt writing a series of books with stories about the main characters.
This book is the first volume in the series and contains stories from the
Mahabharata, the most realistic of all our epics. A bitter war takes place in a
royal family, dividing parents, siblings and grandparents, among others,
along with the kingdom itself. The story explores human emotions in great
detail—love, anger, jealousy, determination, greed and so on. It is no
wonder that Rahi Masoom Raza, the screenwriter of a television series
based on the epic, once said that no matter what the situation is anywhere in
the world, it has already been reflected in the Mahabharata. If the
circumstance is not reflected in the epic, then it will never occur in real life.
While most people in India are aware of the epic’s storyline—the war
between the Pandavas and the Kauravas, the main characters and the
circumstances of their birth and their marriages—what remain largely
unknown to the new generation are the supplementary stories elaborated
here, where Lord Krishna’s main role is not that of a supreme being, but of
an outstanding strategist.
In some places, I have also given references relevant to the country today
and mentioned places such as the Mahamaya Temple in Kukunuru and
Khatushyamji in Rajasthan, among others. The stories originating from
such places are popularly called the Sthala Purana.
There is another text known as the Jaimini Bharata, authored by Sage
Jaimini, who was one of the famous four disciples of Sage Vyasa. Jaimini
was well versed in the Upanishads and the Vedic texts. The Jaimini Bharata
has remained popular through the centuries. It describes the stories of the
Pandavas and their descendants after the Mahabharata war. It is believed
that Sage Jaimini was the main priest in King Janamejaya’s serpent yagna
and hence very familiar with the royal family.
I am not the author of these stories. I am simply a storyteller who has
tried to dip into this ocean of ancient, mesmerizing tales after referring to
multiple sources and removing many illogical details in an effort to connect
to today’s readers.
I only hope that you, along with my other younger and older readers, will
take a little bit away from the stories and pass on the interesting facets of
the Mahabharata to the next generation.
I am truly thankful to my dependable and efficient editor Shrutkeerti
Khurana. I would also like to thank Udayan Mitra, Hemali Sodhi and
Sohini Mitra from Penguin for their interest in publishing this, and Nimmy
Chacko for her editorial work. Most importantly, I would like to thank the
sages who have communicated these tales by word of mouth so that others
could memorize them and pass them on through the ages. Without them,
our life would indeed have been flavourless, and I wouldn’t have had the
strength to face difficult times had it not been for the characters in these
tales facing them too.
 The Man Who Became a Woman

According to the Ramayana and the Mahabharata, the lunar dynasty (also
called Chandravansha or Somavansha) is one of the most prominent warrior
houses in India. As the name suggests, it is believed that this dynasty
descended from the moon.
A long time ago, there lived a man named Vaivasvata Manu, considered
to be the first man on Earth, and his wife, Shraddha. The couple didn’t have
a child for many years, so they decided to perform a yagna in the hope of
pleasing the gods. However, Shraddha secretly hoped for a daughter, while
Manu wanted a son. In time, their prayers were answered and a son was
born to them, whom they named Sudyumna.
Years passed and Sudyumna grew up to be a fine young man. One day,
he went hunting with his friends to the beautiful forest of Sharavana (the
forest of reeds). No sooner had the all-male troupe entered an enchanted
portion of the forest than they were magically transformed into young
women. None of them had any idea how it had happened or what they were
to do.
As the troupe began wandering deeper into the forest as women,
Sudyumna decided to reinvent himself according to the body he now had,
and called himself Ila. When Ila and her friends became desperate to leave
their beautiful surroundings and return to their homes, Goddess Parvati
appeared in front of them. ‘You and your friends have entered my garden,’
she said. ‘Look around you—this is no ordinary place. In fact, no men are
allowed to come here. If they do, they turn into women immediately and
permanently.’
Seeing Ila’s dismayed face, Parvati smiled. ‘I know you came here by
accident,’ she said gently. ‘So I will bless you, child. May you lead a happy
life irrespective of your gender. From this day on, you will be able to
choose what you want to be—male or female—whenever you want.’
 To everyone’s surprise, beautiful Ila chose to remain a girl, and embraced
her new identity with her heart and soul.
Meanwhile, Budha, the god of the planet Mercury and the son of the
moon-god, Chandra, noticed Ila’s exquisite beauty and fell hopelessly in
love with her. Ila reciprocated his feelings and the two were wed. In due
course, Ila gave birth to a son called Pururava.
Time passed and Ila chose to revert to her male form, Sudyumna. He
returned to his kingdom and ruled it wisely. As was expected of a king,
Sudyumna got married and had many children of his own. He continued
taking care of his subjects until he was old, after which he handed over the
kingdom to his first son, Pururava, and retired to the forest to live out the
remainder of his days.
Pururava, the grandson of Chandra, thus introduced the lunar dynasty. He
ruled from his kingdom’s capital, Pratishthana (today’s Allahabad in Uttar
Pradesh).
 The great Pandavas of the Mahabharata are a part of this dynasty. King
Yayati, one of the ancestors of the Pandavas, was succeeded by his
youngest son, Puru. His dynasty came to be known as the Puru dynasty.
Another one of Puru’s descendants was Emperor Bharata, the son of
King Dushyanta and Shakuntala. Bharata was such a great king that our
country was named after him and called Bharat or Bharatvarsha.
King Kuru was born after twenty-five generations of the Puru dynasty,
and gave rise to the Kuru dynasty. King Hastin, the great-grandson of King
Kuru, ruled an area called Kuru Jangal and established the capital of
Hastinapur (today’s Meerut). After fifteen more generations, the Pandavas
and the Kauravas were born. In theory, both the Pandavas and the Kauravas
are descendants of King Kuru, but the Pandavas, who were the sons of
Pandu, chose to carry their father’s name and not the identity of the clan.
 The Ring of Memory

Once there lived a king named Vishvamitra who gave up everything to

become a sage, and went into meditation in a forest for several years.
Lord Indra, the king of the gods, was afraid that the powerful sage’s
penance would be a threat to his throne, so he sent his most beautiful
celestial dancer, Menaka, to distract Vishvamitra.
Menaka came down from the heavens and tried to distract the sage. After
a lot of effort on her part, Vishvamitra opened his eyes. The moment he laid
eyes on Menaka, the sage forgot his meditation and fell in love with her.
The couple lived happily for a while, until they had a baby girl.
Vishvamitra couldn’t take his eyes off the cherubic baby. But she
reminded him of his purpose, and he realized to his great dismay that he had
completely forgotten about his penance. Instead, he had become the father
of a child.
Angry and upset, he said to Menaka, ‘I understand now what has
happened here. You are the one who diverted my attention from my
purpose. From this day on, it is your sole responsibility to look after this
baby. Don’t ever approach me again. If you do, I will curse you in such a
manner that you will regret the day you came looking for me.’
Without another look at the newborn, Vishvamitra stomped out of their
home, never to return.
Menaka was distraught. ‘What am I to do?’ she thought. ‘I can’t take my
baby back to Lord Indra’s court in the heavens. Humans aren’t allowed
there.’
Weeping, she prayed fervently to the gods above and the creatures in the
forest. Finally, she placed the baby on a plantain leaf under a shady tree and
said to her, ‘My dear child, please forgive me. I am helpless. I was
commanded to distract Vishvamitra and now that he is no longer with me, I
must go back. I leave you here with a prayer, and I request these animals
and birds to look after you. I promise you that whenever you are in trouble,
I will come down from the heavens to help you.’
With tears and desperation in her eyes, Menaka went back to Indra’s
court.
For a long time, the baby girl lay there, with only some birds for
company, who kept her entertained. The sound of her laughter reached the
ears of the sage Kanva, who was on his way to a river nearby. He followed
the sound to its source—a baby girl surrounded by birds who were making
her laugh!
Sage Kanva looked around for her parents but there was absolutely no
sign of human life. He finally sat down and meditated until he realized
through his yogic powers that the baby had been abandoned.
He picked up the baby in his arms. ‘Oh my dear child,’ he said, ‘I am a
hermit, but I will bring you up like my very own. Since you are surrounded
by these delightful shakuntas who have kept you cheerful, I will call you
Shakuntala.’
Shakuntala grew up to be a beautiful woman in Sage Kanva’s ashram.
She formed a close friendship with two girls named Anusuya and
Priyamvada. Gautami, another hermit in the ashram, played a huge role in
raising Shakuntala. Young Shakuntala was very fond of the animals and the
birds and the trees in the ashram, and content with her life there.
One day, Sage Kanva had to leave the ashram for some work. Shakuntala
got busy tending to the garden and watering the trees and plants.
After some time, she heard a voice saying, ‘I am thirsty, will you please
give me some water?’
She turned around to find herself face-to-face with a handsome young
man, who was none other than Dushyanta—a descendant of the Kurus from
the lunar dynasty, and the king of Hastinapur. Dushyanta had heard that the
forests near the ashram were full of wild animals that were constantly
attacking his people, so he had taken it upon himself to hunt those creatures
down.
Dushyanta and Shakuntala were instantly drawn to each other. She shyly
poured him some water, while he stood staring at her face, struck by her
beauty and grace. Taking advantage of Sage Kanva’s absence, the king
began visiting the ashram every day on the pretence of taking a break from
his search for the wild animals.
 Weeks passed and the couple finally got married in a simple ceremony
without the consent of their families.
Soon after the wedding, Dushyanta had to go back to the capital.
Shakuntala was heartbroken.
Dushyanta consoled her saying, ‘Dear wife, take this ring as a reminder
of my love. I promise to send word to your father as soon as I reach
Hastinapur. I must ask for his permission before taking you back with me.’
Shakuntala calmed down a little and agreed. She wore the slightly loose
ring on her finger and looked at her husband with trust and confidence.
Dushyanta became busy with matters of the state as soon as he reached
the capital, so he decided to put off sending word to Shakuntala’s father
until he had more time on his hands.
Meanwhile, Shakuntala found that she was pregnant. When Sage Kanva
came back to the ashram, he learnt of everything that had happened.
‘Though I have raised Shakuntala as my daughter, she has chosen to marry
a king and not a sage. But I know that she will make an elegant queen,’ he
thought. He said to his daughter, ‘Let’s not wait to hear from Dushyanta. It
is time for you to go to your husband’s home.’
Though Shakuntala was delighted at the thought of reuniting with her
husband, she was also very nervous about the life ahead of her. ‘I have
never gone out of the ashram or the forest. I have never even seen a city. I
only know my dear foster father and my husband. I wonder if I can live or
adjust to the life in the capital,’ she thought fretfully.
While she was lost in her thoughts, Durvasa, a sage infamous for his
short temper, entered the ashram to meet Sage Kanva. Shakuntala was so
distracted by her worries and apprehensions that she forgot her duties as a
host and didn’t offer so much as a greeting to the sage.
Durvasa was livid at this presumed blatant lack of respect! He poured a
little water from his kamandalu into his palm and sprinkled it on the young
woman and said, ‘Oh Shakuntala, you forgot your responsibility as a host
because you were clearly thinking of someone else. The person in your
thoughts will have no recollection of you from this moment on.’
Poor Shakuntala barely registered his words.
Her friends, who had just entered the room, heard the terrible curse and
immediately fell at Durvasa’s feet. ‘O revered sage, we urge you to take
back your curse,’ they pleaded. ‘Shakuntala is as naïve as a newborn. She is
going through difficult times, so she’s consumed by her worries. We have
never known her to hurt people even unintentionally. Please hear us. We ask
for forgiveness on her behalf.’
Durvasa calmed down. ‘I can’t undo the curse,’ he said. ‘However, I can
give you a remedy. If Shakuntala possesses a material item of the person
she was thinking about, then that person will remember her as soon as he or
she sees the item.’
Shakuntala was still in a daze and remained unaware of the gravity of the
situation. She refused to believe that her husband would not remember her.
Soon, it was time for Shakuntala to depart. Her friends warned her,
‘Don’t forget to carry the ring. Be careful, Shakuntala. Don’t lose it, no
matter what happens.’
Shakuntala nodded distractedly and, along with Gautami and a few sages,
left the ashram. She looked back at her home with a heavy heart.
The troupe left the forest and took a boat across the river Ganga to reach
Hastinapur. As usual, Shakuntala started thinking of Dushyanta, while
absent-mindedly dipping her hand in the water. As the ring was slightly
loose, it slipped from her finger and fell into the river, and was swallowed
by a fish.
Shakuntala, however, didn’t even realize that she had lost the ring.
After a long journey, the troupe finally reached the royal court, where
Dushyanta was busy with matters of the court. When they finally got a
chance, Gautami addressed him, ‘O king, I present to you this beautiful
maiden, the daughter of Sage Kanva. You met her in his ashram and
married her. She is now with child, and it was our duty to bring her to her
marital home. Our guru sends his regards and requests you to look after his
daughter like a delicate flower. Since our work is now complete, we would
like to take your leave and return to the ashram.’
Of course, because of Durvasa’s curse, King Dushyanta could not
recollect Shakuntala. He instinctively felt that he had seen her somewhere
and knew her somehow, but he wasn’t ready to accept her as his wife.
‘Revered ones,’ he said gently, ‘I respect your guru’s sentiments. However,
I don’t recall meeting this maiden before. So how could I have married her?
She may have mistaken me for someone who looks like me. I am a king,
after all, and my wedding must take place in front of witnesses. Believe me,
I don’t know this young woman.’
Shakuntala was shocked by the king’s response. In tears she said, ‘O
king, it was you who married me. I know that I don’t come from royalty,
but I am not a liar—I am the daughter of a sage and money doesn’t have
any meaning for me. Values and virtues are the only wealth I possess. I
married you because I loved you and not because I wanted to become a
queen. O king, hear me out . . . listen to the memories of our time together. I
am sure that you’ll be able to remember it all.’
Shakuntala went on to share a few incidents, trying her best to remind her
husband of their past but alas, it was of no use!
Finally, the king said, ‘Look, do you have any kind of actual proof? I am
unable to recollect anything from your stories.’
Suddenly, Shakuntala remembered the ring that he had given her. ‘Of
course,’ she cried out. ‘I can show you one thing!’
She stretched out her hand in front of the king and said, ‘You gave me
this ring.’
But when she looked at it, she realized to her horror that the ring was
lost. ‘Oh my God, it is gone!’
The king waited. Shakuntala searched desperately for the ring but
couldn’t find it anywhere in her belongings.
Gautami asked worriedly, ‘Where did you leave it, Shakuntala?’
‘I had it when we were in the boat but I don’t remember anything clearly
now,’ Shakuntala replied with sadness in her voice and tears in her eyes.
The people in the court began snickering and laughing at her. Helpless,
Shakuntala left the court in silence. Dushyanta, though convinced that he
hadn’t met Shakuntala before, was still left with a terrible sense of
despondency.
Gautami and the other sages decided to return to the ashram, but
Shakuntala insisted on staying back in the city.
When she was finally alone, Shakuntala remembered her mother who had
abandoned her in the forest. She cried out, ‘O mother, look what fate has
done to me. My parents left me when I was born and now my husband
refuses to recognize me so soon after our marriage. I am pregnant and I
don’t want to go back to my father’s home in disgrace. You are the only one
who can help me.’
True to her promise, Menaka came down from the heavens and took
Shakuntala to Sage Marichi’s ashram, where Shakuntala gave birth to a
healthy baby boy and named him Bharata.
A few days later, a soldier came to Dushyanta and said, ‘Sir, the local
market is in chaos after we arrested a fisherman.’
 ‘Why? What did he do?’ asked Dushyanta.
‘He was trying to sell a royal ring in the local market. We identified it as
yours and arrested him.’
‘Bring the fisherman to me,’ the king ordered.
When the fisherman was brought to the king, it was evident that he was
scared out of his wits. In a shaky voice, the man said, ‘Sir, I am just a poor
fisherman. When I put the net out today, I caught a big fish. Pleased with
my find, I asked my wife to cook the fish and make us something special,
but when she cut it she found a huge ring inside the stomach. I thought that
the quickest way for me to make some money would be to sell it in the
market. While I was at the shop, a few of your soldiers arrested me. I don’t
know anything about this ring other than where I got it from. I had no idea
that a simple fish could bring so much trouble! Please let me go, sir! I am
telling you the truth.’
The ring was handed over to the king. The moment he saw it, he
remembered everything about Shakuntala. It was the ring that he had given
his wife! He recalled her tear-streaked face and how he had mercilessly sent
her away. She was pregnant with his child but he hadn’t cared a bit. Instead,
he had allowed the people in his court to humiliate her.
Overcome with remorse, Dushyanta rewarded the fisherman and
instructed his soldiers to find Shakuntala. They searched every nook and
corner of the kingdom but couldn’t locate her.
Meanwhile, Bharata was growing up quickly under Shakuntala’s care. He
was a plucky young boy whose playmates were wild animals!
Years rolled by.
One day, Indra requested Dushyanta to help him in a war against the
asuras. Dushyanta agreed and managed to defeat the asuras. On his way
back from Indra’s abode, he stopped to take rest at Sage Marichi’s ashram.
There, he saw a wonderful sight. A young boy was fearlessly playing
with a lion cub and forcing its mouth open so he could count its teeth.
‘Such a brave child! His parents are fortunate to have him as their son,’
thought King Dushyanta. ‘It would be wonderful to have an heir like him to
take my dynasty forward.’
The king looked around and noticed a strange armlet on the ground. He
picked it up and asked the boy, ‘Is this yours?’
‘Yes, it must have fallen down.’
 Suddenly, a maid came running to Dushyanta, saying, ‘Please don’t touch
it, sir. It is dangerous!’
‘Why? What is so dangerous about this black thread?’
‘Our guru Marichi has powered the armlet with a special mantra to
protect this boy—Bharata. If anyone other than his parents or guru touch
the armlet, it will turn into a snake and bite the person holding it. Please,
drop it immediately,’ she said, panic-stricken.
King Dushyanta only smiled and held on to the armlet.
Hearing the loud voices, Shakuntala came out of the ashram to see what
was going on. When she saw Dushyanta, she stopped in her tracks and
stared at him in disbelief.
Dushyanta looked back at her, overpowered by guilt. Shakuntala had
been kind and loving to him, and he had been nothing but cruel to her. The
young maiden he had fallen in love with had turned into a mature single
mother now. Her once-innocent eyes now shone with wisdom and
intelligence. He begged Shakuntala for forgiveness.
But by now, Shakuntala had understood the reason for the turn of events.
It wasn’t Dushyanta’s fault that he hadn’t recognized her. So she consoled
her husband saying, ‘There’s nothing to forgive. Life’s journey is filled with
both good and bad. Some things are beyond our control. It was our destiny
that we had to live this way.’
 King Dushyanta went straight to Sage Marichi, sought permission to take
his family home and finally brought Shakuntala and Bharata back to
Hastinapur.
Bharata grew up to be a great ruler and conquered lands all over India. In
time, he came to be known as Bharata Chakravarti or Bharata
Sarvabhauma. He performed many yagnas, such as the Ashwamedha yagna,
the Rajasuya yagna, the Vajapeya yagna and the Vishwajit yagna, among
others. Usually, a successful king performed only one of the yagnas but the
warrior-king Bharata surpassed everyone. He performed hundreds of
Ashwamedha yagnas—a hundred on the banks of River Yamuna, 300 on
the banks of River Saraswati and 400 on the banks of River Ganga.
It is this Bharata, an ancestor of the Pandavas and Kauravas, after whom
our country is named—Bharat. Our land is also known as Bharatvarsha, or
the kingdom of Bharata.
Bharata had many children. As he aged, he recognized that none of his
children were capable of handling his vast kingdom. After long discussions
with his ministers, children and subjects, he understood that a good
successor had to be strong, intelligent and compassionate—even if it meant
that none of his children or relatives could ascend the throne. The blood
running through one’s veins must not entitle an unworthy successor to a
position he was unfit for.
Bharata then found a young boy named Bhumanyu, who wasn’t from a
royal family. When the time was right, he called for a meeting at court. He
gazed at his children and knew that he was taking the right decision. With
confidence, he announced, ‘I have given a lot of thought to the matter of my
successor. And I have decided that Bhumanyu will ascend the throne after I
step down.’
He looked at Bhumanyu and said, ‘Come here, son. I find you worthy of
this throne. It’s your duty to look after this kingdom now.’
Thus Bhumanyu succeeded Bharata and ruled just as fairly as his
predecessor.
This paved the way for merit as the basis of Bharata’s dynasty, until the
day the blind king Dhritarashtra turned it all around by caring more for his
offspring than for providing the kingdom with a worthy ruler.
This, in time, became the cause of the great war of the Mahabharata,
bringing Bharata’s forward vision to an end.
In the Hindu tradition, there are about eight types of marriages. Shakuntala and Dushyanta had
a gandharva vivah , or a love marriage without any rituals. A swayamvara is a ceremony in
which the girl chooses her groom from a group of suitors. Sometimes the girl’s father arranges
for a test and promises to wed her to the winner. Arjuna of the Pandavas won Draupadi’s hand
in marriage in such a contest of skill. Then there is the vaidic vivah where the bride, the groom
and their respective parents agree to be bound in marriage and the ceremony takes place in
front of their families and friends with the loud chanting of Vedic mantras. There is also
rakshasha vivah , where a girl is abducted and married to someone against her will.
 The One Who Split the Vedas

Satyavati, the daughter of the fisherman Dasharaja, was a beautiful maiden.

Because she always smelt of fish, she was also known as Matsyagandhi.
Her job was to ferry travellers to and from the banks of River Ganga in her
boat.
One day, the great sage Parashara came to her and requested for her
services. Satyavati agreed and began the familiar journey.
In the middle of the river, Parashara pointed to an island nearby and said,
‘I have changed my mind. I want to stay on that island for some time.’
As soon as they landed on the island, Parashara professed his love for
Satyavati and asked her to stay with him. The awestruck Satyavati couldn’t
refuse his request and so, together, they settled on the island. In the course
of time, they were blessed with a baby boy. As the baby was dark and
attractive and born on an island, he was named Krishna Dwaipayana.
Time passed and Parashara decided to leave the island and make his way
to a deep forest to meditate. But he also wanted to educate his son when he
was older. So he told Satyavati, ‘I will come back for our son at the right
time to ensure that he gets the best education that I can give him.’
Satyavati nodded in agreement. ‘Of course,’ she said.
Before leaving, the sage blessed Satyavati saying, ‘May you become
famous and spread your fragrance everywhere. Your scent will extend for
miles and you will be known as Yojanagandhi.’
When he grew up Krishna Dwaipayana joined his father, completed his
education and became a great scholar. Once he was old enough to pursue
the path of a sage, he said to Satyavati, ‘O mother, please remember me
whenever you are in difficulty. I may be leaving you for a higher purpose
but I am always at your service.’
Krishna then studied the Vedas in great detail and decided to split them
into the Sama Veda, the Rig Veda and the Yajur Veda. The Atharva Veda
was added later, and that’s how Krishna came to be known as Veda Vyasa
(the one who split the Vedas).
Veda Vyasa was called upon by his mother many times. He was an
important character in the Mahabharata without having even participated in
the war. Satyavati requested Vyasa’s assistance in producing an heir for the
throne of Hastinapur. Thus Dhritarashtra (father of the hundred Kauravas),
Pandu (father of the five Pandavas) and Vidura were born—each from a
different mother.
Veda Vyasa eventually married Vatika, the daughter of the sage Jabali.
Together, they had a son named Shuka, who was considered to be Vyasa’s
spiritual heir and the one who took the Mahabharata to the common man.
 It is believed that Vyasa requested Lord Ganesha to aid him in writing the
Mahabharata.
Lord Ganesha, however, had a condition. ‘Only if you can narrate the
entire story without pausing will I agree to write it.’
‘Well then, Ganesha, you must understand the verse before you write it
down,’ retorted the sage.
Lord Ganesha smiled and nodded.
Thus Sage Vyasa began his narration of the Mahabharata, the various
Upanishads and the eighteen Puranas, while Ganesha understood and
diligently wrote each verse, because of which he came to be known as ‘the
lord of knowledge’.
It is said that the river Beas (derived from the word ‘Vyasa’) in the region of Punjab is named
after him for his contribution to Indian culture.
 The Cursed God

There once was a sage named Mandavya, who had taken a vow of silence.
He lived deep in a forest so he could pursue his spiritual goals in peace.
One day, four thieves, after looting the king’s treasury, ran into
Mandavya’s ashram to hide from the royal soldiers, who were in hot
pursuit. The king’s soldiers realized that the thieves were in the ashram and
so approached Sage Mandavya, saying, ‘Sir, have you seen some thieves
enter your home?’
The sage, because of his vow, stayed silent.
The soldiers began searching the entire ashram. Soon, they found the
thieves along with the loot and arrested them.
Since Sage Mandavya remained calm and silent, the soldiers mistook him
as one of the thieves in disguise and detained him as well.
The king of the land was so enraged by the robbery that he didn’t order a
proper investigation. Instead, he decreed, ‘These five men have taken part
in a great crime and must suffer the punishment of crucifixion.’
The soldiers followed the king’s order and crucified all five men. The
four thieves died immediately, but Sage Mandavya remained alive because
of his yogic powers.
When the king learnt of this, he realized what he had done and
immediately went to the site of the crucifixion and fell at the sage’s feet.
‘Please forgive me. I have made a grave mistake,’ the king said.
Sage Mandavya, the kind and compassionate soul that he was, only
blessed the grateful king.
The king then took him to his royal physicians, who were able to remove
all the nails from the sage’s body except for one. So from that day onwards,
Mandavya was called Animandavya (ani meaning a ‘small nail’).
That one nail caused immense pain to the sage. Unable to take the agony
any more, he approached Yamaraja, the lord of dharma and death. ‘O
Yamaraja,’ said the sage. ‘Why must I carry this pain? Tell me, how have I
sinned to deserve this extreme suffering?’
‘You haven’t done anything in this life,’ Yama replied. ‘But in your last
birth, you tortured butterflies by inserting twigs into their bodies. It is that
sin that has caught up with you in this life.’
‘I can’t recall my past life. Can you tell me at what age I committed this
horrible act?’
‘You did it when you were a little child,’ came the response.
This upset Sage Animandavya greatly. ‘Yamaraja, when a child makes a
mistake before the age of twelve, it is a pardonable offence, because it is
made without malice or any evil intention. You are the lord of dharma. You
are supposed to ensure that a sinner is punished according to his sin. Your
punishment is much greater than the mistake I have made. Therefore I curse
you to be born as a human being. Despite your great knowledge of dharma,
you will be completely ineffective in the circumstances you will find
yourself in.’
 Yamaraja knew that he had no choice—he would have to bring the curse
to its fruition. Thus, he was born as Vidura, the son of Vyasa. Vidura was
famous for his intelligence, articulation and the knowledge of dharma. He
was the one who would later advise his brother King Dhritarashtra and his
son Duryodhana about the path of righteousness, but they would ignore his
advice, which would eventually lead to the Mahabharata war.
 Arjuna and His Different Names

Arjuna was the third of the Pandava brothers. He was a supremely talented
archer, a skilled fighter and Bhishma’s favourite. Bhishma, an unparalleled
warrior himself, was the grand-uncle of both the Kauravas and the
Pandavas.
Even as a child, Arjuna was an excellent archer compared to the others,
including the Kauravas and his own brothers. His teacher, Drona, was very
fond of him, which the other students resented sometimes, as they felt
Arjuna always got their guru’s attention.
One night in the gurukul , the candles went out because of heavy winds.
Suddenly, Arjuna woke up, hearing a noise in the kitchen, and went to
check the source of the disturbance. There, he saw a shape that looked like
his brother Bhima gobbling up some food.
‘Bhima, there is absolutely no light here! How are you eating in the
darkness?’ Arjuna asked, baffled.
‘If you practise anything hard enough, you can do it any time—be it dark
or light! I practise eating every day and that’s why I can eat any time I
want,’ Bhima replied casually.
Realizing that there was great truth in Bhima’s words, Arjuna started
practising archery at night until he became perfect at shooting in the dark.
He also trained both his hands to handle the bow and arrow and hence came
to be known as Savyasachi, the ambidextrous one.
Because of his multiple talents and achievements, Arjuna’s epithets grew
in number over time.
He was called Phalguna because he was born in the Uttara Phalguni
nakshatra .
He was frequently referred to as Jishnu (the conqueror of enemies) since
he never lost a battle, Vijaya (the victorious one) and Vibhatsu (the creator
of terror during a war).
 Partha or Kaunteya were two other names that he was known by, as he
was the son of Pritha (who later came to be known as Kunti). Pritha was the
sister of Vasudeva, from the famous Yadu dynasty. She had been given
away by her father to his childless cousin King Kuntibhoja. After the
adoption, Pritha’s name was changed to Kunti.
Arjuna was called Kiriti (the one who wears the celestial crown given by
Lord Indra), Shwetavahana (the one who always mounts a white horse),
Gudakesha (the one with thick and lovely hair) and Dhananjaya (the one
who brings prosperity and wealth). He was given the name Dhananjaya
after he amassed a lot of wealth during a Rajasuya yagna.
Because of his dynamic and superior persona, Arjuna was popularly
referred to as Bharata because his subjects often felt that they got a glimpse
of his ancestor Bharata when they looked at him.
According to one story, Arjuna was known as Nara in a previous lifetime
in the holy spot of Badrinath, in today’s Uttarakhand. Nara and Narayana
were born to Dharma and Murti Devi. In their time there lived a demon
named Sahasra Kavacha, whose body was protected by a thousand armours.
And each armour could only be destroyed by an opponent who had done a
thousand years of penance and who could fight the demon for a thousand
years. But whoever destroyed an armour would immediately fall to the
ground and die. First, Nara meditated and fought with Sahasra Kavacha for
a thousand years before dying but only after he had destroyed one of the
demon’s armours. Narayana instantly took his place and resumed fighting
with the demon even as Nara was reborn and meditated for the strength to
defeat Sahasra Kavacha. Thus Nara and Narayana alternated until only one
armour was left to destroy the demon. With the loss of each armour, the evil
inside the demon kept decreasing until there was barely any left. At that
point, the demon managed to escape. It is said that the same demon was
later born as Karna, who was slain by Arjuna and Krishna, incarnations of
Nara and Narayana, of course.
 The Rishi’s Revenge

Drupada, the prince of Panchal, was sent to Sage Bharadwaj’s gurukul to

study. There he met the sage’s son, Drona, an outstanding archer, and the
two soon became inseparable, despite the difference in their family
backgrounds. They studied together, ate their meals together, played sports
together, and spent as much time together as they could.
Years went by and it was time for the two friends to go their separate
ways.
‘My friend,’ said Drupada. ‘It is my destiny to eventually become the
king of Panchala. So even though we are parting now, please know that
whenever you are in need, you can come to me and I will share half my
kingdom with you. It is a promise.’
Drona nodded, sad at the thought of leaving the gurukul and Drupada.
Though Drona was intelligent, he was extremely poor. He tried to make
some money by becoming a teacher and imparting his skills to others, but
he wasn’t very successful. In time, he married Kripi, the sister of the rishi
Kripacharya, and they had a son named Ashwatthama, but his situation
remained the same.
One day, young Ashwatthama craved for some milk but there was none
at home. His helpless mother mixed a little bit of rice flour with water and
gave it to her son.
Ashwatthama took a sip and said, ‘Mother, this tastes strange.’ But Kripi
consoled him and convinced him to drink the concoction.
Drona, who was observing this, couldn’t take it any more. He became
frustrated and angry at himself. ‘What kind of a father am I? I can’t even
afford a bowl of milk for my child!’
It was then that he remembered Drupada’s words. He decided to go and
ask his friend for a cow so his child could drink milk every day.
 And thus Drona journeyed to Ahichatra, the capital of Panchala. When he
was questioned at the royal gates, he told the guard to tell the king that it
was his friend Drona who had come to meet him.
Drupada was now a changed man, and more aware of the ways of the
world. He asked the guard to bring Drona to him, while nervously thinking,
‘Drona must have recalled the promise I made to him when I was young. I
am a king now. What if he asks me for half the kingdom?’
Minutes later, Drona entered the room. He was tired and hungry, and his
clothes were filthy. He expected his old friend to embrace him and offer
him some solace, but Drupada made no move and remained seated on his
throne. Before Drona could say anything, Drupada said, ‘O friend, I made
you a promise years ago when I was immature and didn’t know any better. I
hope you know by now that a friendship can exist only between two people
of similar standing. Today, I am a king and you are but a poor commoner.
Please don’t ask me for something which does not befit your stature.’
Drona was humiliated. ‘Drupada has not even asked me what I came here
for. All I wanted was one cow for my little son, not his kingdom. With these
words, Drupada has insulted not just my honest intentions but also our
friendship,’ he thought with fury.
With barely contained anger, Drona responded, ‘King Drupada, I only
came here to ask for a cow. But what you say is right—there really is no
match between you and me. My knowledge is far superior to yours. And
since our old friendship no longer exists, I don’t even need what I came
here for. I will befriend you again once I have obtained half of your
kingdom. Until then, I bid you goodbye.’
Drona turned around and walked away.
While he was going back home, he encountered a few boys playing with
a ball. Just as he was passing them by, the ball fell into a well and the boys
gathered around it, wondering how to get the ball back.
Drona asked them with disdain, ‘From your appearance, all of you seem
to be from a royal family—young princes, perhaps. Don’t you know how to
get the ball out? Hasn’t your teacher taught you anything about archery?’
The young boys fell silent. Drona then used his knowledge and expertise
to bring the ball out and handed it to the boys. One of the little boys was
amazed at the power of archery and was inspired to learn more about it.
Together, the boys ran back to the palace and narrated the entire story to
their grandfather, who was none other than Bhishma. And the little boy was
Arjuna, of course!
Bhishma realized that this stranger was indeed a special man and
immediately went to meet him. He found Drona residing outside the city in
an ashram, and begged him to tutor his grandchildren—the Pandavas and
the Kauravas.
And that’s how Drona became their guru.
Days passed and Drona’s son, Ashwatthama, also joined as a student and
studied along with the Pandavas and the Kauravas.
When the boys grew up, their education with Drona came to an end.
Bhishma gave Drona enough wealth to last a lifetime, but the teacher
wanted something else. He said to his students, ‘I want a different
gurudakshina from you. I want you to march to Panchala and defeat King
Drupada. Then tie him to a chariot and bring him to my ashram. That will
take care of my fee for teaching all of you.’
None of his students questioned the task or the reason behind the request.
The Kauravas said, ‘That’s easy enough, guruji. Allow us to go on our
own and fulfil your desire. We don’t want to mix our gurudakshina with
that of the Pandavas and share the glory.’
Drona smiled and agreed.
The Kauravas went to battle with their entire army, but Drupada was no
ordinary man. He managed to defeat the Kauravas.
When Drona heard the news, he turned to the Pandavas with faith in his
eyes and said, ‘You are my last resort now. I hope you will accomplish this
task.’
‘Guruji, I will accomplish the mission at any cost. Your smallest desire is
my command,’ said Arjuna with confidence.
In the next battle, Drupada could not stand strong against the five
Pandavas. Arjuna finally caught him, tied him to a chariot and brought him
back to his teacher.
‘Thank you, my worthy students. Your duty is over. You may go now.’
Drona thanked Arjuna and watched his students leave.
When they were gone, Drona untied Drupada’s knots and offered him a
seat. ‘Drupada, my old friend, please sit,’ he said.
The sullen Drupada did not pay heed.
‘I know you may not feel like sitting at my request after losing your
kingdom to my students, but I still respect you despite the current inequality
in our positions. I will not behave the way you did with me. So I will divide
the Panchala kingdom into two halves. You may take back one half and
your capital, Ahichatra. And I will keep the other half and announce
Kampilya as my capital. You may now go back as a king in my chariot.’
Since Drupada was in no position to negotiate, he went back to his share
of the kingdom in silence. He was furious at the way he had been treated—
tied like an animal, presented like a gift and given his own kingdom back
like it was a favour.
‘Drona could do this to me only because he had the great warrior
Arjuna’s support, while I have none,’ he reasoned.
Drupada was not angry with Arjuna. On the contrary, he appreciated his
valour and loyalty. ‘I wish I had a daughter who could be married to him,’
he thought to himself.
 Then his mind turned to Drona again. ‘I desire a son who will be
responsible for Drona’s death.’
With a carefully directed passion, Drupada began a penance and
performed a yagna to obtain such a daughter and a son. As the ritual went
on, a yagnapurusha emerged. He asked Drupada, ‘What is your wish?’
‘Give me two children who are already young adults. I will be like a
parent to them. But I need them immediately.’
A strong, handsome warrior, armed with weapons, stepped out of the fire.
Drupada named him Drishtadyumna. Then a dark and beautiful girl arose
from the fire, and Drupada named her Draupadi, after himself. Drupada
embraced both the children with affection.
As fated, Draupadi married Arjuna later and Drishtadyumna killed Drona
on the twelfth day of the Mahabharata war.
Thus, a tender teenage friendship that began in a peaceful ashram ended
in tragedy only because of the arrogance that comes with privilege.
 Food for the Fire God

The Kauravas and the Pandavas had been rivals even as children, and this
enmity only increased when they grew up. Bhishma, convinced that the two
sets of cousins would never see eye to eye, decided that the only way to
prevent conflict was to divide the kingdom equally among them.
The blind king Dhritarashtra, father of the Kauravas and the ruler of
Hastinapur, agreed to the plan and declared, ‘The Kauravas will rule
Hastinapur while the Pandavas will rule the forest area of Khandavaprastha
across the river Yamuna.’
This was clearly an unequal distribution—the forest land was
uninhabitable and uncivilized. Still, the Pandavas accepted their share with
grace.
When they went to Khandavaprastha and saw the thick forest with its
wild, dangerous animals, they wondered how they would make a kingdom
out of it. But their friend Krishna suggested, ‘This is your opportunity to
create a new land based on your values.’
With Krishna’s assistance, the Pandavas created the city of Indraprastha
in a part of the forest and soon their followers made the city their home and
chose to become their subjects.
One day, an old man came to meet Arjuna and Krishna. Strangely
enough, the old man’s body seemed to be glowing and Krishna thought he
could see fire in his bright eyes. The man said, ‘Sir, I am extremely hungry.
No matter how much and whatever I eat, I am not satisfied. Will you help
me?’
‘I have sworn to help anyone who approaches me with a legitimate
request,’ said Arjuna. ‘Tell me, what would you like to eat? I will try my
best to ensure that you get your fill.’
In a wink, the old man transformed into his real form—Agni, the god of
fire. ‘I can only satisfy my hunger by burning something,’ said Agni. ‘I
have been longing to scorch the Khandava forest. But Indra’s friend
Takshaka, the king of snakes, resides there with his friends. Whenever I
approach the forest, Indra prevents me from burning it by sending down
heavy rain. My hunger is now unbearable. Will you protect me while I burn
the Khandava forest?’
Arjuna was unprepared for this. ‘Why do you want to burn the Khandava
forest?’ he asked.
‘Every yagna provides me with food. Because so many people in your
kingdom conduct yagnas, I have no choice but to overeat. I have now
developed a stomach ailment. I need to consume the herbs of the forest to
recover.’
‘I will help you,’ said Arjuna. ‘I will stand with my bow and arrow on
one side of the forest and Krishna will guard the other. Both of us possess
weapons that can prevent the rain from reaching the forest. But I want two
things—a chariot that can move as fast as my thoughts, and a few suitable
weapons for Krishna. If you can arrange these for us, we can start right
away.’
 ‘I already have such a chariot, so you may have it. And my friend Varuna
has an extraordinary bow called Gandiva that will be suitable for you. The
bow was made by Brahma, from the celestial Gandi tree. As for Lord
Krishna, he already has his celestial discus.’
Thus Arjuna was presented with a solid gold chariot yoked with white
horses while Krishna was equipped with the mace Kaumodaki.
On the designated day, the trio marched to the edge of the forest. Agni
started burning the forest, and the flames shot up high, covering even the
sky. Arjuna and Krishna stopped everything that came in Agni’s way. The
news reached Indra soon enough, who was immediately concerned about
Takshaka’s family. Takshaka was away at the time, but his family would
have been trapped in the fire.
Indra called for a storm of clouds and commanded them to rain over the
forest and quench the fire. Arjuna used the mighty Gandiva bow and
covered the forest with so many arrows and in such a manner that even a
drop of rain couldn’t get through. A furious Indra descended to Earth with
his friends—the god of wealth, Kubera, and the god of water, Varuna, and
the god of death, Yama.
The battle, with Arjuna and Krishna on one side and the gods on the
other, was fierce. And yet, Arjuna and Krishna retained the upper hand.
Meanwhile, Avasena, Takshaka’s son, fled with the help of his mother.
When Arjuna learnt of the escape, he killed Takshaka’s wife in rage.
The battle continued with no end in sight until a voice came from the sky.
‘Indra, you have done enough. You must understand that Krishna and
Arjuna cannot be defeated.’
Recognizing the heavenly intervention, Indra stopped trying to save the
forest and went back with his friends.
Maya, the architect of the asuras, was also trapped in the fire. Krishna
spotted him when he was trying to flee and threw his celestial discus at him.
Terrified, Maya ran to Arjuna, seeking his protection. Krishna then agreed
to spare his life.
Slowly, the flames started to die and the forest was reduced to ashes.
Agni resumed his form as an old man and approached Arjuna and
Krishna. ‘I can’t thank you enough. You have performed a feat impossible
for even the gods. The weapons I have given you are yours to keep. If
you’re ever in a situation where you need my help, rest assured that I will
always be on your side.’
 From that day on, Arjuna came to be known as Gandivi. The same
chariot, horses and the bow Gandiva were later used in the Mahabharata
war.
Meanwhile, Takshaka learnt of his family’s destruction and vowed to
take revenge.
Since Arjuna had saved Maya, the architect promised him, ‘I will build
you a fantastic palace, a building that can never be replicated.’
True to his word, Maya created a striking palace in Indraprastha and the
Pandavas performed the Rajasuya yagna, at the end of which they invited
all their relatives to their new home.
When Duryodhana saw the exquisite palace, he was taken aback. He
thought, ‘My father isn’t a wise person. He can’t see, I know, but he can’t
even think properly. He gave us the old city of Hastinapur and gave the
untouched beauty of the Khandava forest to the Pandavas. Just look at what
they have made—it’s a better city and they have created an even more
beautiful home.’
Duryodhana couldn’t contain his jealousy or his curiosity about the
palace. He decided to explore it properly. Draupadi, who was standing with
Bhima in a balcony, saw Duryodhana walking around and began to observe
him keenly.
As Duryodhana wandered about the premises, he saw a waterbody in
front of him. He lifted his dhoti slightly and started walking across it, but
then he discovered that there was no water at all—it was an illusion! Then
he saw bright flowers from a window and wanted to smell them. But alas!
As soon as he tried to get closer, they seemed to disappear. Next, he found
himself in front of an ornate door but when he tried to pass through it, he
banged his head—the door was enchanted; it was only a wall! A little while
later, he came across a mat embroidered with flowers. Confidently, he
stepped on it and fell into water.
These were just a few of the well-placed illusions that the great Maya had
incorporated into the palace.
Draupadi and Bhima chuckled and commented rather loudly, ‘Poor
Duryodhana! A son of a blind person must also be blind.’
Unfortunately, Duryodhana heard the last statement. It was then that he
decided to teach Draupadi a lesson. This eventually led to the dice game
between the Pandavas and the Kauravas and the disrobing of Draupadi,
which, in turn, caused them to be exiled and became the root cause of the
Kurukshetra war.
Thus, Maya’s enchanting palace never truly brought the Pandavas any
happiness. People believe that it was Maya’s way of taking revenge for the
burning of the Khandava forest.
 The Enchanted Vessel

While the Pandavas were in exile, numerous people visited them—from

sages and kings to ordinary folk, all of whom were stunned and horrified at
their plight.
When Draupadi was the queen of Indraprastha, she would enjoy
entertaining guests and was known for her generosity. But of course, she
couldn’t entertain the same way while in the forest. So Yudhishthira prayed
to Surya, the sun god, who gave them a special vessel saying, ‘This vessel
is known as the Akshaya Patra. It will produce as much food as you need,
but there is a condition—once it is washed after the lady of the house has
had her meal, it cannot produce anything more until the next day.’
Draupadi was only too glad to accept the Akshaya Patra and the
condition. She was now able to provide delicious food to all their guests,
and in great quantities! And she washed the vessel only after she had
finished her cooking for the day and had eaten herself.
Soon, the news of the exiled Pandavas’ generous hospitality reached
Hastinapur.
Duryodhana wondered, ‘How do the Pandavas manage to feed all their
guests such scrumptious meals every day when they are so poor?’ Then he
heard about the Akshaya Patra and was overcome by jealousy.
His uncle Shakuni devised a wily plan when the famous short-tempered
sage Durvasa came to visit them in Hastinapur. Duryodhana welcomed the
sage with great pomp and show and treated him and his troupe to a fantastic
meal.
Sage Durvasa said, ‘Duryodhana, I am very pleased with your hospitality.
So ask me whatever your heart seeks. I have the power to give you anything
you desire.’
Duryodhana replied politely, ‘O sage, I am incredibly fortunate to have
you visit my palace. But I have only one desire. I wish for my cousins, the
Pandavas, to also have a chance to welcome you as a guest. May I request
you to go to the forest and experience their hospitality and bless them too?
Since they don’t have any cooks, they will probably be more comfortable if
you arrive a little late for the midday meal so they have more time to make
all the arrangements.’
Shakuni and Duryodhana knew that the Pandavas would not be able to
feed Durvasa’s huge troupe. They were certain that the news of the
Pandavas feeding everyone who came to them was exaggerated. If the sage
approached them after Draupadi had eaten, she wouldn’t be able to provide
more food. This would offend Sage Durvasa who would definitely curse
them. The uncle-nephew duo was proud of their strategy.
Sage Durvasa, however, was oblivious to this devious plan. He smiled
and agreed, and then left for the forest with his students.
The troupe reached the Pandavas’ home late in the afternoon, as
Duryodhana had advised. The sage entered their home and said, ‘Your
cousin is very kind. He has sent me here to bless you.’
When the Pandavas saw the number of people accompanying the sage,
they were alarmed.
‘I will take my students to the river for a bath first and come back for the
meal,’ said Durvasa and went away with his troupe.
As soon as the sage left, Yudhishthira went into the kitchen hoping that
Draupadi hadn’t washed the vessel but to his horror, he found that she’d
already washed it and even finished eating her meal. He said, ‘Draupadi,
Sage Durvasa has come to our home for lunch with a big group of
followers. He has gone to take a bath but he will be back soon. What should
we do now? If we don’t feed him, he will curse us. Besides, it is our duty to
feed whoever comes to our home.’
Draupadi looked at him helplessly.
Bhima roared, ‘This must be Duryodhana’s underhand plot. Otherwise,
why would the sage come here at such a late hour for a meal?’
Everybody gathered around, lost in thought. There was no solution in
sight.
Draupadi then recalled how Krishna had always helped her out in
difficult situations. So she folded her hands and meditated, ‘O Lord
Krishna, my dearest brother, please help me now. I need you.’
Suddenly, the Pandavas heard the sound of horses outside. Lord Krishna
had already arrived at their doorstep! Draupadi smiled. ‘You are here, dear
brother? I was just praying to you now!’
Krishna smiled back. ‘I was passing by when I heard your call. I am
always here for you. Whenever anyone surrenders to me and calls me, I am
there. Tell me now, dear sister, what is the problem?’
Draupadi explained the situation to him.
Krishna’s smile grew deeper. ‘I will take care of this. But first, feed me. I
have travelled such a long distance and I’m hungry.’
‘O Krishna, you know how the Akshaya Patra works!’ said Draupadi in
despair.
‘I can’t imagine coming to my sister’s home and going hungry! Bring me
the vessel.’
Draupadi did as she was told and brought him the empty vessel. Except,
it wasn’t really empty. There, at the bottom of the vessel, was a single grain
of cooked rice.
‘O Draupadi, you are so naïve!’ exclaimed Krishna. ‘Can’t you see that
grain of rice? That is enough to satisfy my hunger.’
Krishna ate the grain of rice and immediately burped, as if he had had a
full meal!
‘Now don’t worry about Sage Durvasa or his students,’ he said and left.
Meanwhile, Durvasa and his students had finished their bath. As soon as
they got out of the river, they all started burping. One of the disciples said,
‘Guruji, all our stomachs are full and we can’t think of eating any more
right now. I know that the Pandavas are generous . . . they may get offended
if we visit them and leave their home without eating anything. So I suggest
we don’t go back there.’
 ‘I am also of the same opinion,’ admitted Sage Durvasa. ‘I will bless
them from here and we can go on our way.’
Thus Durvasa and his group never returned to the Pandavas’ home and
Duryodhana’s plan failed miserably.
The day the Pandavas received the Akshaya Patra from the sun god is still celebrated in our
country as Akshaya Tritiya, which comes every year during the spring harvest in April or May.
It is an extremely auspicious day and people believe that whatever they buy that day will grow
in value. Most people prefer to purchase gold on this day.
 The Legacy of Indradyumna

One day, the old and pious sage Markandeya visited the Pandavas when
they were in exile.
He said to them in consolation, ‘Let me tell you about Indradyumna. The
story will help you understand life better.
‘King Indradyumna was the son of Bharata and his wife, Sunanda. The
king performed many yagnas and donated a lot of cattle and wealth, among
other things, to the poor. He earned plenty of good karma through his deeds
and went to heaven after his death. He stayed there for many years,
exhausting his bank of good karma, until one day he realized to his great
surprise and dismay that his karma was almost down to nothing. Indra,
seeing his troubled face, told him, “O king, go down to Earth and show me
one single being who remembers your good deeds, or is still enjoying their
benefits. If you can point out even one, you can continue staying in heaven.
The truth is that no man can stay here forever no matter how much good he
has done in the past.”
‘So Indradyumna came down to Earth. He was confident that people
would remember him and all that he had done.
‘The first person that he met was me. Indradyumna was aware that I had
defeated the god of death with Shiva’s help, and had been on the planet for
a long, long time.
‘“Sage Markandeya, do you remember my deeds?” asked Indradyumna.
“I am King Indradyumna.”
‘“I am sorry, but I don’t remember who you are. I spend most of my time
meditating and reading sacred scriptures or going on pilgrimages. However,
there is an owl much older than me in the great Himalayas. He might know
you. Come with me and I will take you there,” I said.
‘Indradyumna nodded and the two of us went to the Himalayas and met
the owl.
 ‘“I am Indradyumna,” the king said, introducing himself. “I think you
can help me. You are one of the oldest beings in this world. Do you
remember me?”
‘“I don’t remember you,” replied the owl. “You must have lived on Earth
way before my time. But don’t lose heart. There is a lake not far from here.
My friend, a giant crane, resides there. He is much older than I am. Maybe
he knows who you are. Come, let us go to him.”’
‘The three of us soon reached the lake. The crane, however, didn’t know
Indradyumna. He said, “It is quite possible that my old friend, the king of
the turtles, might remember you. He has lived here from the time of my
parents.”
‘The four of us together went to meet the turtle. When the turtle saw
Indradyumna, his eyes filled with tears of joy. He prostrated before the king
and said, “O Indradyumna, I have heard of you from my grandfather. I am
blessed to see you. In your time, you were known for your generosity. My
grandfather told me that you gave away millions of cattle as charity. This
waterbody was formed by the movement of those cow hooves and that’s
why the lake bears your name—Indradyumna Lake.”
 ‘Indra immediately sent his chariot to bring Indradyumna back to heaven.
‘The king realized that it was his generosity that made him great. In time,
the presence of the waterbody led to the turtles settling there for a long
time, thus benefiting from Indradyumna’s actions.’
The sage thus ended his story.
Today, Indradyumna Lake is near Puri and there are still turtles living in it. The progeny of the
turtles can be seen when a large group of turtles gather offshore at the mouths of the
Rushikulya river to lay their eggs every year. This area is also home to one of the world’s great
nesting areas of the olive ridley turtles, that are believed to be descendants of the turtle
mentioned in this story.
 The Yaksha’s Quiz

One day, a man approached the Pandavas while they were in exile in the
forest. ‘I need your help, Yudhishthira!’ he said, addressing the oldest of the
five brothers.
‘I had hung some arani from a tree branch next to my ashram,’ he
continued. ‘Suddenly a deer came and started scratching its back on the
tree. In the process, it shook the arani, which fell from the branch and got
stuck in its horns. Startled, the deer took off at a high speed. I ran behind
the deer but couldn’t catch up with it. I can’t start my yagna without the
wood. Please, will you help me?’
The Pandavas knew that they could easily get the arani wood back for the
man. It was their duty to care for their subjects, so they agreed to help him.
The five brothers began to look for the deer. Soon, they saw the animal
from a distance and tried to surround it, but it sprinted away. They tried
again and again to capture the deer, but it proved too fast for them. Tired,
the brothers finally sat down under a tree.
Yudhishthira said to his younger brother Nakula, ‘Brother, will you fetch
some water for all us?’
Nakula nodded and climbed up a tree so he could locate the nearest
waterbody. He saw one not too far away from them so he got down and told
his brother, ‘There is a pond nearby. I will bring some water for all of you.’
When Nakula reached the pond, he was mesmerized by the fabulous
sight in front of him—the crystal-clear water was surrounded by beautiful
trees, creepers and flowers. Then he remembered his thirst and stepped into
the pond. He wanted to drink a little water before taking it back to his
brothers.
Just as he was about to take a sip, there was a loud voice from the skies
above. ‘Don’t drink this water, Nakula.’
 Nakula stopped, stood up straight and looked around. There was nobody
in sight.
‘I am the owner of this pond,’ said the voice. ‘You have to answer my
questions before you proceed. You can take the water only if I am happy
with your replies.’
‘Maybe I’m just too tired and that’s why I am hearing voices,’ thought
Nakula. Ignoring the voice, he bent down to drink the water again.
The voice repeated the warning. But by then, Nakula was too thirsty and
drank the water. Satisfied, he turned around and started walking away from
the pond. Suddenly, he fell to the ground and died.
Meanwhile, Yudhishthira was starting to get worried about Nakula. He
said to Sahadeva, ‘Go and find out what’s taking Nakula so long.’
The tired and hungry Sahadeva reached the same pond and saw his
younger brother lying dead on one side. Shocked and upset, he took a few
minutes to calm down and then, unable to take the thirst any more, hurried
to the pond to drink some water. As soon as he touched the water, the voice
warned him, ‘Be careful, young man. Stop whatever you are doing and
listen to me first. If you don’t, you will share the same fate as that man
lying there.’
Disregarding the warning, Sahadeva drank the water and immediately
fell dead.
When Sahadeva also didn’t come back, Yudhishthira turned to Arjuna.
‘Take your bow and arrow and find our brothers,’ he said to the master
archer. ‘I suspect some danger has befallen Nakula and Sahadeva.’
Arjuna saw his dead brothers lying near the pond, and looked around
carefully for the hidden foe. Then, overcome by thirst, he too bent close to
the water.
Right on cue, the voice repeated its warning to Arjuna.
‘Show yourself! Come out and talk to me,’ Arjuna roared. If you don’t, I
will use my shabdavedi arrow and destroy you.’
Without waiting for the voice to respond, Arjuna drank the water and
dropped dead immediately.
Now, Yudhishthira sent the mighty Bhima, the strongest of the five
brothers, to the pond. When Bhima saw Arjuna, Nakula and Sahadeva and
heard the voice, he shook in anger, but the same fate befell him as well.
Finally, the weary and thirsty Yudhishthira trudged to the pond himself.
When he saw his brothers lying dead on the ground, he rushed to examine
them. There were no physical injuries on their bodies. Yudhishthira
understood that they had not been in a fight and that some other forces were
at play.
Yudhishthira went closer to the pond to have a sip of water. Just as he
was about to commit the same mistake as his brothers, the voice spoke yet
again. ‘My child, stop. I own this pond and you can’t drink the water unless
I say so. See what happened to your brothers because of their arrogance. I
only want to ask you some questions and hear your replies. Then I will
decide whether you can drink from the pond or not.’
Yudhishthira thought for a while and stepped back. ‘Fine,’ he said. ‘Ask
me your questions. I will try my best to answer them . . . but, tell me first,
who are you?’
Suddenly, Yudhishthira saw a yaksha approaching him. The being sat in
front of him and began firing questions rapidly at him.
‘What is bigger than the Earth?’ the yaksha asked.
‘A mother,’ replied Yudhishthira.
‘What is taller than the sky?’
‘A father.’
‘What is faster than the wind?’
‘The mind, of course.’ Yudhishthira smiled.
‘What grows faster than hay?’
‘Worry.’
‘What is the greatest dharma in the world?’ queried the yaksha.
‘Compassion and conscience.’
‘With whom is friendship never-ending?’
‘With good people,’ responded Yudhishthira patiently.
‘What is the secret to never feeling unhappy?’
‘If one can control his or her mind, then that person will never feel sad.’
The yaksha increased his pace now. ‘What is the greatest kind of
wealth?’
‘Education.’
‘What is the greatest kind of profit?’
‘Health.’
‘What is the greatest kind of happiness?’
‘Contentment,’ said Yudhishthira, ever prompt with his replies.
‘What is man’s worst enemy?’
‘Anger.’
 ‘What disease will never have a cure?’
‘Greed is incurable.’
The yaksha smiled again. ‘A last question, my friend. What is life’s
biggest irony?’
‘It is the desire to live eternally. Every day, we encounter people dying
but we always think that death will never come to us.’
‘Yudhishthira,’ said the yaksha. ‘I am pleased with your answers. So I
will grant you the life of any one of your brothers.’
‘I choose Nakula,’ responded Yudhishthira immediately.
‘Yudhishthira, you will need warriors like Arjuna or Bhima in the war
that’s coming. What makes you choose your stepbrother Nakula instead of
your mighty brothers?’
Yudhishthira bowed to the yaksha. ‘My father, Pandu, had two wives,
Kunti and Madri,’ he explained. ‘While my mother, Kunti, had three sons,
mother Madri had twins—Nakula and Sahadeva. If I choose Arjuna or
Bhima, it will be unfair to my other mother, Madri, who will be left with no
sons of her own. I must be fair and hence I choose one of her sons. That is
the call of dharma—to live with compassion and conscience, without bias
and in peace.’
 The yaksha was delighted. ‘O Yudhishthira, I bless you. You are truly a
follower of your path. I grant back the lives of all your brothers. From this
day on, you will also be known as Dharmaraja or the king of dharma.’
Thus Nakula, Sahadeva, Arjuna and Bhima came back to life and
together they knelt down in front of the yaksha. Yudhishthira said, ‘I am
sure that you aren’t just a yaksha. You killed my four brothers within
seconds and you revived them equally quickly. You must be Lord Vishnu or
Lord Shiva or someone just as powerful. Will you please reveal your true
identity to us?’
The yaksha then transformed into Yamaraja, the god of death. ‘I bless all
of you,’ he said, smiling. ‘I am the one who went to the poor man in the
form of the deer, causing you to come here. I would like to give you a boon.
Tell me, what would you like?’
‘O Yamaraja, give us a boon that will allow us to live the thirteenth year
of our exile in anonymity, as is the condition of the bet that we lost. If we
are recognized, then we are bound to repeat the thirteen years of exile again.
Please help us disguise ourselves during that year,’ said Yudhishthira.
‘So be it,’ said Yamaraja.
 A Weapon of Mass Destruction

Krishna, being a great friend of the Pandavas, would visit their home
frequently while they were in exile.
During one such visit, Krishna advised Arjuna, ‘I foresee a great war at
the end of these thirteen years. Your cousin Duryodhana will never give you
the kingdom back or even a small share of it. If he does, it will bring me
endless joy, of course. But my advice to you would be to prepare for the
worst.
‘I know you are a strong warrior,’ continued Krishna. ‘But you will need
equally powerful weapons to survive this war. You will face the world’s
best warriors, like your grand-uncle Bhishma, your master, Drona, and his
son, Ashwatthama, as well as Karna. Each of them will be an obstacle to
your success.’
Arjuna was baffled. He asked, ‘What must I do, my lord?’
‘Lord Shiva is a kind-hearted deity. He has an extraordinary weapon
named Pashupatastra, which can destroy everything in this universe. You
must possess it.’
‘And how do I obtain this weapon?’ asked Arjuna.
‘Pray to Lord Shiva, of course! When he appears in front of you, as he is
bound to, ask him for the weapon. He won’t be able to refuse you. Simply
possessing the weapon is enough to make your enemies nervous!’
Arjuna accepted the challenge and told his family, ‘I’m going to a dense
forest in the Indraneela mountain. Nobody will disturb me there and I will
be able to meditate in peace.’
Arjuna found his way to the Indraneela mountain, which was in the
Himalayas, and began his penance. Years went by. Lord Shiva was aware of
Arjuna’s meditation, but he made no move to appear in front of his devotee.
Finally, his consort, Parvati, could resist no further and asked, ‘My lord!
You know you have to bestow your weapon on Arjuna. Then why are you
not going to him?’
‘What he asks for is no ordinary weapon,’ explained Shiva. ‘I once
owned two powerful weapons—the first was the bow Pinaka, which I gave
away to King Nimi after I had finished using it, and now all I have is the
Pashupatastra—the weapon that Arjuna seeks. If he wants it, he has to
prove that he is worthy of it.’
Parvati was interested in how her husband was going to test Arjuna. She
asked him, ‘Are you going to have a contest of physical strength with him?’
‘Yes, I plan to,’ replied Shiva.
‘Well, a warrior must never show his back to his opponent during a fight.
It is an indication of defeat. So you must have a clear view of Arjuna’s back
if he is to lose.’
Lord Shiva agreed and came down to Earth disguised as a hunter. He
conjured up a wild boar and sent it to Arjuna to disturb his meditation.
Annoyed with the boar, Arjuna grabbed his bow and arrows, took aim and
shot the animal dead at the first attempt. When he went near the boar, he
was surprised to see another arrow in its body. ‘I have been living here
alone in this thick forest without seeing any sign of a human for the longest
time. Is there someone else around here?’ he wondered.
Just then, a hunter, who was really Shiva in disguise, appeared and
claimed the boar as his kill. ‘This is my prey. I shot him first.’
‘I haven’t seen you here before. Where are you from?’ asked Arjuna.
‘You may not have felt my presence but I have seen you many times,’
replied the hunter mysteriously, smiling.
Arjuna did not return the smile. ‘I am one of the best archers in the
world,’ he said proudly. ‘I am skilled in the art of shabdavedi , or shooting
without seeing, and only with the advantage of sound. In fact, I can shoot
arrows blindfolded or in the night and with either hand. How dare you tell
me that you shot the boar first?’
The exchange of words continued between Arjuna and the hunter, neither
of them willing to relent. At last, they decided to fight each other without
the use of the bow and arrow.
While they were wrestling, Arjuna’s back faced Shiva very clearly. Once
Parvati had also noticed it, Lord Shiva appeared in his true form.
When Arjuna understood who he was fighting with, he fell at the god’s
feet and begged for forgiveness. Pleased with Arjuna, Shiva presented him
with the Pashupatastra even as he warned him, ‘Arjuna, this is the most
dangerous weapon in the world. Use it only if you have no other way out. It
must never be used against lesser enemies.’
Arjuna took Shiva’s advice and never actually used this weapon.
This story is frequently referred to as ‘Pashupatastra Prapti’ (The Possession of the Pashupata
Weapon) or ‘Shabarashankara Vilasa’ (The Enchanting Duel of the Hunter Shankara) or
Kiratarjuniya (Of Arjuna and the Hunter).
 For Want of a Flower

One day, when Draupadi was taking a bath in a river near their forest home,
she saw a beautiful pink flower in the water. The fragrance of the flower
enchanted her and she wanted it desperately. She glanced at the plants and
the trees nearby but didn’t see a similar flower anywhere. A little
disappointed, she gathered her belongings and went back home.
For days, Draupadi thought about the flower. Her desire to possess it
increased by the day, until she was unable to control it any more. So she
went to the brave and adventurous Bhima, described the pink flower to him
and said, ‘Oh please, Bhima, will you bring me the flower?’
Bhima immediately went in search of the flower. He travelled far and
wide, but didn’t find anything that seemed even remotely like the flower
Draupadi had described. Still, he didn’t give up and continued his quest.
At one point, he came across an old monkey sleeping in the middle of his
path. Since there wasn’t enough room for him to go around the monkey,
Bhima requested him to move a little.
The monkey was tired. He sighed. ‘I am old and weak. Will you please
lift my tail and keep it aside so that you have some space to go?’
‘I can’t believe he finds the act of moving his tail so tough! Ah well, if he
can’t do it, I will,’ thought Bhima.
So he tried to move the monkey’s tail, using only one hand, but found
that he couldn’t lift it! He tried with the other hand, and then with both, but
the tail simply wouldn’t budge. Then Bhima used all of his incredible
strength but no matter how much he tried, the tail just seemed to get
heavier! Bhima, who had always been proud of being one of the mightiest
men on Earth, felt humbled. He realized that the monkey before him was by
no means ordinary.
He gave up and said, ‘I can move rocks and mountains but not your tail,
sir. You must be a great being. Tell me, who are you?’
 ‘I am Hanuman. My father is Vayu, the wind god,’ replied the monkey.
‘I’ve been around from the time of Lord Rama. I wanted to teach you an
important lesson, which is why I gave you the task of moving my tail.
Never be too proud of your accomplishments, and don’t underestimate
anyone’s powers.’
Bhima felt ashamed of his mistaken sense of pride and entitlement and
asked Hanuman for forgiveness.
‘At the time of the inevitable war,’ said Hanuman, ‘I will remain with
you.’
The Pandavas would later depict Hanuman on their flag to remind
themselves of the deity who had protected them through their trials.
Bhima asked, ‘I am looking for a special flower, Lord Hanuman. Will
you be able to help me?’
 ‘I was the one who sent the enchanting flower to Draupadi so it would
lead you to me. That flower is from the garden of Kubera, the god of
wealth. Feel free to go there and take as many as you want.’
Bhima journeyed to Alkavati, Kubera’s city, and found his way to the
famous garden, which contained flowers of many different types, shapes
and smells, including the Saughandika Pushpa, the flower he was looking
for.
Today, it is believed that Bhima met Hanuman in the valley of Uttaranchal. Interestingly
enough, Bhima and Hanuman are half-brothers, as the mighty Pandava had been born out of
Kunti’s invocation of Vayu, the wind god.
 The Ingenious Ghatotkacha

Krishna’s nephew Abhimanyu, one of Arjuna’s sons, had moved to Dwarka

along with his mother, Subhadra, during the exile. Abhimanyu grew up to
be a brave young man under Krishna’s tutelage. It was Krishna who trained
the boy in archery.
Shashirekha was the daughter of Krishna’s brother Balarama and his wife
Revati. The tales of her extraordinary beauty reached far and wide. Many
young men were fascinated by her but Shashirekha’s heart belonged only to
one—the talented and courageous Abhimanyu.
Her mother, Revati, however, did not approve of the match. She was
convinced that Abhimanyu would never become king as the Pandavas no
longer had a kingdom of their own. Even if they did get their kingdom
back, the claim to the throne would obviously first go to Draupadi’s
children. Revati was thus more interested in getting her daughter married to
Lakshmankumara, Duryodhana’s son, who in her opinion was a better
match than Abhimanyu.
Shakuni, Duryodhana’s uncle, was in agreement with Revati. Balarama
was a great warrior, and had taught Bhima and Duryodhana the art of
fighting with a mace, so Shakuni was sure that the alliance would
strengthen their relationship with him.
Thus, the marriage between Shashirekha and Lakshmankumara was
fixed, much against the bride’s wishes.
Upset and disgraced, Abhimanyu and Subhadra left Dwarka and made
their way to the forest where the Pandavas resided. On the way, they met a
giant-like man who seemed to recognize them.
The big man introduced himself. ‘I am Ghatotkacha, the son of Bhima
and Hidimbi. This forest belongs to me. I would like to invite you to my
home—please don’t refuse! After all, we are family.’
 Happy to meet his cousin, Abhimanyu agreed and he and his mother
followed Ghatotkacha to his house.
While they were at Ghatotkacha’s house, thoughts of Shashirekha
plagued Abhimanyu’s mind, and he withdrew from conversation, looking
sad. Feeling sorry for him, Hidimbi told her son, ‘Ghatotkacha, you are
powerful; you know how to perform all sorts of illusions. You can
transform yourself into any form and travel anywhere you want. Can’t you
figure out a way to help your cousin marry Shashirekha?’
Ghatotkacha readily agreed and sped like the wind to Shashirekha’s
chamber in her palace. Since it was the middle of the night, Shashirekha
was scared at the sight of the stranger who had seemingly appeared from
nowhere. Just as she was about to scream, he shushed her saying, ‘Don’t be
scared, Shashirekha. I am Ghatotkacha, the son of Bhima and Hidimbi. I am
not here to harm you. I know that you love my cousin Abhimanyu. He is
staying in my house in the forest right now. Come with me—I can take you
to him.’
‘But how can I come with you?’ asked Shashirekha, after she had calmed
down. ‘If I disappear like this, it will bring disgrace to my parents. The
groom’s family and friends have already arrived for the wedding
ceremony!’
‘Don’t worry, Shashirekha.’ Ghatotkacha smiled. ‘I will take care of
things in such a manner that the groom himself will refuse to marry you.
Trust me.’
Shashirekha agreed and climbed on to Ghatotkacha’s palm. The giant
then flew back home with her, where Abhimanyu and Subhadra were
waiting impatiently. They were ecstatic to see Shashirekha.
Ghatotkacha returned to the palace, transformed himself into Shashirekha
and went to sleep in her bed.
The next morning, the maids came to wake Shashirekha, unaware of the
events of the night. The way Ghatotkacha snored and grunted and snorted
upset the maids. That’s when Ghatotkacha remembered that he was
supposed to behave like a girl!
The maids requested her, or rather him, ‘Get ready soon, princess. People
are waiting for you.’
‘But I am hungry and want to eat first,’ insisted Ghatotkacha.
The maids brought him a meal, which Ghatotkacha ate in seconds. When
he asked for more, the maids were greatly concerned. Shashirekha was a
delicate girl and hardly ever finished what was on her plate, but the new
Shashirekha seemed different somehow. Ghatotkacha went with the maids
to the kitchen and ate everything in sight, much to the dismay of the cooks,
who had to make more food now.
 Meanwhile, the groom’s relatives and friends were busy celebrating.
Lakshmankumara was obviously happy to be marrying Shashirekha, and
Shakuni was also overjoyed.
Finally, it was time for the groom to see the bride. When
Lakshmankumara saw who he thought was Shashirekha, Ghatotkacha, the
talented illusionist that he was, turned her face into that of a lion’s.
Lakshmankumara backed away in horror and screamed, ‘Lion! That’s a
lion!’
But Shashirekha looked the same to everyone else. Shakuni scolded his
grandson and asked him to calm down.
A few minutes later, Shashirekha stood before Lakshmankumara with a
garland in her hands—this time with the face of a tiger. Again, only he
could see the illusion.
Just as she was about to garland him, the groom stepped back, shaken.
‘No, I don’t want to marry her,’ he said. ‘She is frightening!’
Again, Shakuni convinced him to go ahead with the ceremony.
Finally, when it was time for the groom to tie the mangalsutra around the
bride’s neck, Ghatotkacha turned Shashirekha’s face into that of a cheetah’s.
Lakshmankumara cried out to his family, ‘This may be a great alliance
for all of you because she is Balarama’s daughter, thus giving you an
advantage in the upcoming war, but I refuse to marry her!’
Duryodhana and Shakuni were terribly embarrassed—their secret was
now out in the open.
‘I thought you wanted your son to marry my daughter because you liked
her, and not because it suited your purpose. I’m sorry, but after this incident,
I don’t think your son is worthy of my daughter. Even if he was, I would not
give away my daughter in marriage to your family. The wedding is off,’
said Balarama firmly.
Duryodhana and Shakuni, along with the rest of the family, went back to
Hastinapur in shame.
Meanwhile, Shashirekha’s parents were sad and disappointed. Revati
bitterly regretted her decision. ‘Abhimanyu loved our daughter with all his
heart, but I refused to see that, blinded by what I thought was security for
her. I made a great mistake. If he were here, I would get them married right
away.’
When Ghatotkacha heard this, he knew that his work was done. That
same night, he brought the real Shashirekha back to her chamber and
escorted Abhimanyu to the palace. Balarama and Revati were happy to see
Abhimanyu.
The next day, Shashirekha was married to Abhimanyu and the secret of
how it all happened was revealed only to Krishna.
This story is a popular folk tale from Karnataka and Andhra Pradesh, and has inspired many
dances and puppet shows.
 The Face of God

When their exile was over, the Pandavas went back to the Kauravas to
reclaim their kingdom, but Duryodhana refused to give it back, thus
breaking his promise. The Pandavas also found out to their dismay that
Indraprastha, their beautiful capital, had been reduced to a village in their
absence. Even then, they didn’t want to wage a war on their cousins and so
they went to Krishna for advice.
‘A war brings unimaginable destruction of every kind. I agree with you,’
said Krishna. ‘I have a plan,’ he added. ‘I will be your messenger of peace
and go to Duryodhana’s court. I will request for five villages—one for each
of you. We will ask for Indraprastha, Sonaprastha, Paniprastha, Tilaprastha
and Bheemasthala. It is nothing compared to what Duryodhana owes you,
so I hope he will agree and this issue is resolved soon.’
Krishna sent a message right away to Duryodhana informing him of his
visit as the ambassador of the Pandavas. Duryodhana began to panic—
Krishna was not only a great statesman, but also a gifted orator, known for
his powers of persuasion. If he managed to convince the elders of the
family to see things his way, Duryodhana knew that he would be forced to
give back the kingdom to the Pandavas.
Despite his concerns, Duryodhana, wanting to show off his hospitality as
the prince of Hastinapur, arranged for a fantastic meal for his visitor.
Krishna visited the court and presented the proposal that required
Duryodhana to relinquish his power over only five villages. There were
murmurs of agreement in the court. After all, what were five villages
compared to half a kingdom?
Duryodhana’s friend Karna said to him, ‘I suggest you agree to this
proposal and hand over the villages for the sake of peace in the kingdom
and the family.’
 Duryodhana, however, did not listen to him. He hated the Pandavas too
much to let go of anything. ‘Karna,’ he said, ‘if you want half of my
kingdom, I will give it to you without a second thought, but I don’t want to
give the Pandavas anything, not even a tiny dot equalling a pinpoint. They
don’t deserve anything from me.’
Krishna, keenly observing what was going on, now spoke to
Duryodhana’s father, Dhritarashtra. ‘O king, you must intervene. If you
don’t, you will be responsible for a horrific war. A kingdom can only
flourish when there’s peace. So I entreat you, advise your son to take the
deal.’
King Dhritarashtra turned to his son and tried to convince him, but to no
avail. Duryodhana refused to budge.
Finally Krishna looked at Duryodhana and said, ‘I have tried my best to
prevent the war that is coming. I understand now that this is your destiny.
You will be responsible not only for the death of your family and friends
but also many innocents who have nothing to do with this petty fight. You
will also be accountable for the deaths of all the good people who will stand
by your side out of friendship or loyalty. Women will lose their husbands
and parents will lose their children, but I see no other way out.’
He stood up. ‘I must leave now,’ he said with resignation.
‘But you must eat with us before you depart,’ said Duryodhana. ‘I have
got the most delicious dishes in the kingdom prepared for you.’
‘Ah, a meal must be eaten at a place where your heart has affection for
the people around you or the compulsion to feed your body because of
hunger. I have neither right now. I must go,’ insisted Krishna.
Duryodhana’s ego was hurt. ‘Who does he think he is?’ he thought. ‘He
has grown up with cowherds and doesn’t even own a kingdom. How can he
turn down an invitation from the prince of Hastinapur?’
He lost his temper. ‘Put this man in jail,’ he ordered his soldiers. ‘How
dare he reject an offer of a meal from me?’
Krishna was immediately surrounded by soldiers.
He smiled. ‘I was born in a prison and yet, nobody could stop my
chained father from taking me to Vrindavan despite the number of soldiers
on guard, heavy winds and the cold rain in the dark night. Those who have
tried to poison me or kill me have invariably brought death upon
themselves. I have neither a beginning nor an end. I have everything but I
have nothing. I am all-seeing—I can behold both the creation and the
destruction of this world. Try all you want, but you cannot imprison me.’
Krishna started growing in size and, in a few moments, became so big
that his head touched the high ceiling of the court. Everyone was amazed.
Suddenly, there was so much light that Duryodhana had to close his eyes.
So did all the soldiers.
Karna, Bhishma and Drona, however, could see this form of the god.
Krishna, in this particular form, had many heads and multiple arms holding
weapons and other divine objects. They also saw a vision—the terrible war
and their own deaths.
Bhishma knelt before Krishna in awe.
Before anyone could recover, Krishna reverted to his human form and
walked out of the room.
Karna ran behind Krishna and said, ‘O Keshava, you are no ordinary
human being. I’ve known this for a long time but it is only today that I
realized who you are. You are beyond any description or understanding.
You are everywhere and you are nowhere. I am fortunate and blessed to
have seen you in this great avatar of Vishwarupa. You showed me how I
would die and I retain the knowledge that we are all going to perish in the
imminent war. But I noticed that you were Arjuna’s charioteer. I am an
archer but also the son of a charioteer myself. May I have the pleasure of
being your charioteer today and escorting you to wherever you wish to go?’
‘Let’s go towards the Ganga,’ Krishna replied thoughtfully.
Once they reached their destination, Krishna said, ‘You don’t know
everything about your past, Karna. You may have been raised by the king’s
charioteer Adiratha and his wife, Radha, but you are also my cousin—the
first child of my aunt Kunti. You are the oldest brother of the Pandavas.
That is why you are a lot like them.’
 Krishna paused. He wanted to give Karna time to absorb this.
Karna was unprepared for this life-changing revelation. He had noticed
Kunti a few times and always thought of her as the Pandavas’ mother.
Suddenly, he felt an inexplicable pain run through his body—how could he
be the brother of the hated Pandavas, especially his arch-enemy Arjuna? He
had always been ready to fight them for Duryodhana, but now the thought
made the blood drain from his face.
But he knew that Krishna wasn’t lying. He had always felt like a misfit in
his clan and among the Kauravas. He had never even considered the
possibility that he had been adopted. His parents Adiratha and Radha had
never given him any reason to think so. Krishna’s revelation explained
many of the things that had puzzled him about his life.
He looked at Krishna with hurt and betrayal in his eyes. ‘Why did you
tell me this before the war? How can I fight with the people I cannot be
enemies with? I am lost now.’
Krishna cajoled him saying, ‘The truth is the truth. Now that you know
that you are the oldest of the Pandava brothers, you should join them. I’m
hoping Duryodhana will agree to give the Pandavas their due at least for
your sake and make you their leader. The Pandavas are obedient and will
accept your governance. You are the only one who can help prevent the
war.’
Karna was astonished by Krishna’s logic. ‘Krishna, how can you ask that
of me? I can’t simply switch sides! I know that Duryodhana is in the wrong
but he is my best friend. His wish is my command. You have shown me my
death and that remains my destiny. I will follow the path of my conscience.
Please let me know where else you would like to go and I will take you.’
Krishna was disappointed at the refusal, but he appreciated Karna’s
devotion to Duryodhana and accepted his decision. ‘You can take me to
Vidura’s house for lunch,’ he said.
Karna was puzzled. ‘May I ask you a question?’
Krishna nodded.
‘You rejected Duryodhana’s sumptuous feast and are instead going to
Vidura’s humble home for a meal. Why?’
‘Vidura is my friend and has always been kind to me. Eating a simple
meal with a friend is better than partaking of a royal feast at Duryodhana’s
house. It is not food, but affection that I crave,’ said Krishna, smiling.
The form that Krishna appeared in at Duryodhana’s court is called Vishwarupa Darshana or the
Universal Form.
 The Unusual Fighter

Devavrata, the son of Ganga and Shantanu, came to be known as Bhishma

after his fierce vow to remain celibate throughout his life.
When Vichitravirya, the son of Shantanu and Satyavati and therefore
Bhishma’s half-brother, came of age, Bhishma took it upon himself to find
him a suitable bride. He’d heard that the three princesses of Kashi—Amba,
Ambika and Ambalika—were going to have a swayamvara, so he decided
to go there on his brother’s behalf.
The day of the swayamvara arrived. As soon as Bhishma entered the hall
where the ceremony was taking place, there was a tense silence. The other
princes who had come to participate in the swayamvara became
increasingly nervous. Bhishma’s status and skill were unmatched.
Bhishma announced, ‘I am taking these three maidens to Hastinapur so
they can marry my brother Vichitravirya, the present king of the lunar
dynasty. And I am ready to fight anyone who is opposed to this.’
Nobody had the courage to battle Bhishma, of course. Even the king of
Kashi was too petrified to offer any resistance and sent off his three
daughters with Bhishma.
On their way back to Hastinapur, the eldest maiden, Amba, said to
Bhishma, ‘I can’t marry your brother. I love Prince Salwa of the Saubala
kingdom and I know he also feels the same way. I was going to garland him
as my husband. But you forced me to come with you without even asking
for my opinion or consent.’
Bhishma was surprised. He hadn’t even imagined that Princess Amba
would have someone else in mind. ‘I have made a mistake,’ he thought.
Immediately, he stopped the chariot and said to her, ‘You should have told
me this at the swayamvara. Had you done so, I would have left you there to
marry your beloved and brought only your sisters with me.’
He turned to the other two and asked, ‘What about you?’
 Ambika and Ambalika shook their heads.
Bhishma commanded one of his servants to take Amba to Saubala.
Amba thanked Bhishma profusely and went on her way while he and her
sisters resumed their journey.
All along the journey to Saubala, Amba thought that the prince would be
ecstatic to have her back. To her horror, Prince Salwa refused to have
anything to do with her. ‘No,’ he said. ‘I can’t marry you. You are
Bhishma’s now. I am a warrior. I should have tried to stop him but I sat
back and did nothing. Getting married like this . . . it’s . . . it’s not right. I
am sorry.’
Amba was stunned, livid and upset. ‘Where am I to go now?’ she
thought. ‘I can’t go back home to my father . . . in our family, once a girl
has been wed, she is expected to stay with her husband. I have to go back to
Bhishma.’
Meanwhile, Hastinapur was busy celebrating Vichitravirya’s marriage to
Ambika and Ambalika.
Bhishma was surprised to see Amba, who explained the circumstances of
her return and said, ‘Prince Salwa doesn’t want to marry me now and I
don’t want to marry your brother. I wish to marry you as you are the one
who kidnapped me from the swayamvara. You must accept me as your
wife. It is the right thing to do.’
Bhishma was surprised at her logic. ‘The whole world knows about my
vow of celibacy. I can’t marry you—it is out of the question. Shall I speak
to Prince Salwa? I will be glad to help in any way that I can. Or perhaps, if
you want to marry someone else, I will go and request them on your
behalf.’
Amba, however, insisted that Bhishma marry her and so the argument
went on for a while.
Finally, Amba left the palace in anger and went away to a forest. She
knew that Bhishma was the disciple of Parashurama, the great sage, and
that he was an obedient student. So she went to Sage Parashurama and told
him the whole story.
Parashurama sent word to Bhishma, saying, ‘Bhishma, you must marry
Amba—you are responsible for her situation. It is my command.’
Bhishma rushed to his teacher to explain his side of the story. He bowed
his head and said, ‘O respected teacher, you can cut my head off if that’s
what you think is right. But I am Bhishma—I have taken a vow that cannot
be broken under any circumstances. I cannot marry anyone.’
The short-tempered Parashurama challenged his student to a fight, which
the latter accepted.
And so teacher and student fought a fierce battle, but in the end, the
student proved undefeatable.
Parashurama turned to Amba and said, ‘I am sorry, but I have done all
that I could. Bhishma is the greatest warrior on Earth and I am proud and
honoured that my own student has defeated me. You will have to forge your
own path now.’
And the sage quietly went back to his meditation.
Bhishma again requested Amba, ‘Please, I beg you to reconcile with the
hand that fate has dealt both of us.’
Amba, however, refused to listen to him. ‘You have destroyed my life,’
she cried. ‘I will ensure that I become the one responsible for your death.’
Bhishma went back to his kingdom, disturbed by the incident, while
Amba decided to perform penance. She meditated for years until Lord
Shiva appeared and asked her what she wanted. Amba replied, ‘In my next
birth, I must be the one responsible for Bhishma’s death.’
Lord Shiva blessed her and she died soon after.
Then Amba was reborn as the transgender Shikhandi to King Drupada.
Years passed, and it was almost time for the war.
Krishna, though he chose to side with the Pandavas, vowed not to take up
arms.
Bhishma, when he heard of the vow, remarked, ‘Krishna, I have heard
that you are not going to fight or use any weapon in the war, but I will see
that you do.’
‘No, I won’t,’ replied Krishna.
Only fate would unfold what was to follow.
Soon, the war began and its rules were set with both sides agreeing not to
violate them. A charioteer must never be harmed or killed. The war must
begin every day at sunrise and end at sunset. During the night, the soldiers
could cross over to each other’s camps.
On the first day, Bhishma’s arrows fell on Arjuna and some even fell on
his charioteer, Krishna, who cleverly manoeuvred the chariot to shield
Arjuna from the onslaught of more arrows.
 When another arrow came and hit Krishna, clearly against the rules of the
war, he became upset and dismounted from the chariot in anger. He aimed
his celestial discus at Bhishma. ‘I may be breaking my vow but I will kill
Bhishma for not following the rules,’ he thought determinedly.
Bhishma also descended from his chariot and approached Krishna. ‘O
lord, please kill me and make me the happiest man on Earth. I am glad to
see you take up arms. I have been fortunate enough to fight two avatars of
Vishnu—Sage Parashurama, my teacher, and you. If I die at your hands, I
know I will go to heaven.’
Krishna realized his folly and recalled his conversation with Bhishma
from before the war. He understood that Bhishma was goading him into
using his celestial discus. ‘No, I can’t kill you. You are destined to die in a
different way,’ he said and resumed his duty as a charioteer.
Bhishma, being the formidable warrior that he was, single-handedly
decimated a large part of the Pandavas’ army. The Pandavas grew
concerned. At this rate, their army would soon be reduced to nothing.
Krishna advised Yudhishthira, ‘Go to your grand-uncle Bhishma and
seek his blessings.’
Yudhishthira didn’t see the point of this advice but he had faith in
Krishna. So he crossed over to the enemy camp after sunset. He hadn’t seen
Bhishma since the war had begun. Now he was approaching him as his
grandson and not as his enemy.
Bhishma was pleased to see him. When Yudhishthira touched his feet,
Bhishma blessed him with the standard blessing, ‘Vijayi bhava , may you be
victorious.’
Seeing a suitable opening, Yudhishthira asked him, ‘How can I be
victorious with you siding with my enemy? We can never win if you are on
the opposing side.’
Bhishma smiled. ‘Yes, but I must fight the war for Duryodhana as long as
there are men fighting against me on the other side.’
Yudhishthira nodded and understood. This meant that Bhishma would not
fight anyone who was not a man.
Just as he turned to leave, Bhishma remarked, ‘I am certain that it was
Krishna who sent you here—so you can learn how to defeat me. He may
not be fighting this war directly but he does think of the best strategies.’
Bhishma was not sad, even though he had given away the secret of his
defeat.
 Yudhishthira went back with the information to Krishna, who
immediately turned to Shikhandi and said, ‘Tomorrow, you will stand right
in front of Bhishma and block his view of Arjuna. You don’t have to do
anything else.’
The next day, Shikhandi stood tall in front of Bhishma. Instinctively,
Bhishma realized who it was—Amba from a previous life and a harbinger
of his death. Bhishma surrendered. He refused to fight Shikhandi and stood
motionless in the battlefield.
 It was the moment Krishna was waiting for. He indicated to Arjuna that it
was time to kill Bhishma. But Arjuna was in tears.
‘If you want to win, this is the only way. Otherwise, your defeat is
certain,’ said Krishna firmly.
With shaking hands, Arjuna let his arrows loose one after the other, as if
in a daze, until Bhishma fell to the ground supported by a painful bed of
arrows.
Amba’s revenge was complete.
 Krishna the Master Strategist

Jarasandha

Brihadratha, the ruler of the kingdom of Magadha, was married to twin

princesses. A long time passed and yet Brihadratha was not blessed with
any children. This was a matter of great sadness for the king, and he would
frequently wonder about how he could remedy the situation.
One day, he met a sage named Chandakaushika who, after learning the
cause of his misery, offered him a rather unusual solution. The sage was
unaware of the fact that the king had two wives and not one. He gave the
king a magical fruit and said, ‘Give this fruit to your wife and she will bear
a child in due course.’
The king felt that it was unfair to prefer one wife over the other. So he cut
the fruit into two halves and gave one half to each of his wives.
The wives soon became pregnant and the people of the kingdom rejoiced.
At the end of nine months the wives gave birth to two dead and incomplete
half-babies—it was almost as if one baby had been split into two vertical
halves. The king was shocked at this horrific sight. Unable to understand
what to do with the infants, he ordered his men to leave the half-newborns
in a forest.
The men followed the king’s orders without question and went back to
the palace. Now the forest where they had left the babies was home to a
demoness. Her name was Jara. Picking up the smell of human flesh, she
found the two half-babies and picked one up in each of her hands. She had
heard the rumours about the king’s half-babies. Something tugged at her
and she brought the babies close to each other—they seemed to fit together
like a puzzle. Suddenly, their bodies snapped together and a cry filled the
air—she had a live infant in her arms!
Jara could not bring herself to eat the newborn and went to the capital to
meet the king and return the prince. She told Brihadratha about how the two
lifeless bodies had fused into one.
The king couldn’t thank her enough. He said, ‘I will name him
Jarasandha, or the one joined by Jara, in your honour.’
Jarasandha grew up to become an influential king, just like his father.
Unfortunately, he was also very ruthless. His ambition and merciless nature
contributed to the expansion of his father’s kingdom. As a result, he also
developed a network of powerful but unscrupulous allies and friends such
as Shishupala of the kingdom of Chedi.
The royal astrologers advised Jarasandha that if he imprisoned sixteen
thousand young maidens, it would help him conquer and occupy many
more lands and elevate his status to that of an emperor. Jarasandha wanted
to become as famous as the emperors of Hastinapur. With the help of his
friends, he managed to capture sixteen thousand young women over the
years.
 Meanwhile, his own twin daughters—Asti and Prapti— were both
married to King Kamsa of Mathura. When Kamsa was killed by his nephew
Krishna, Asti and Prapti returned to their father. Furious, Jarasandha
promised to avenge his son-in-law’s death, and Krishna became his sworn
enemy.
He marched to Mathura, Krishna’s home at the time, with a large army.
Krishna, aware of his enemy’s might, told his subjects to run away from
Mathura with him so that they could establish a new kingdom elsewhere.
Everyone, including his devotees, advised him against it. ‘Running away is
an act of cowardice,’ they said. ‘It is your duty to fight for our land. If you
flee now, then history will always remember you as a coward and not as a
statesman.’
‘It doesn’t matter how people remember me,’ said Krishna, smiling
mysteriously. ‘The fact is that we are sure to lose against Jarasandha’s
massive army and the troops of his allies. I would rather be referred to as a
coward than send my people to certain death.’
Krishna took his subjects to a land near the sea and established a new
kingdom called Dwarka.
Jarasandha reached Mathura, but a little too late—there was nobody left
in the kingdom. In frustration and anger, Jarasandha burnt the capital and
went back to his kingdom.
Sill bent on revenge, he then approached his friend Shishupala, who was
also Krishna’s cousin. Jarasandha had a devious plan in his mind—he
encouraged Shishupala to marry the beautiful princess Rukmini, the
princess of Vidarbha, so that it would be easier for Jarasandha to have his
army pass through the kingdom when needed. Unfortunately, the plan failed
because Rukmini fell in love with Krishna and married him instead.
Both Shishupala and Jarasandha now hated Krishna with renewed vigour.
Over time, Krishna devised a plan to eliminate Jarasandha. When
Yudhishthira was planning to perform the Rajasuya yagna after his
coronation at Indraprastha, Krishna convinced him to get rid of Jarasandha
with the help of Bhima and Arjuna. So Krishna, Bhima and Arjuna
journeyed to Rajagriha, the capital of Jarasandha’s kingdom. Jarasandha
was an ardent devotee of Lord Shiva and performed a puja for him every
day. He was known to grant his subjects whatever they asked for at that
time.
 Krishna, Bhima and Arjuna disguised themselves as poor men and
approached the king after the puja.
‘I am not here to ask you for money or your kingdom. I wish to have a
wrestling match with you,’ said Bhima.
Jarasandha found the request unusual. But he said, ‘If it is a wrestling
match that you want, then it should be among equals. I will choose my
opponent.’
Jarasandha saw that Bhima was the only one of the three men who had
the physique of a wrestler, so he chose him. But Jarasandha was an
intelligent man. He saw through their disguise soon enough on closer
observation. ‘I know that you are no ordinary men—you are Krishna,
Arjuna and Bhima,’ he said. ‘But I will give you the wrestling match you
want—I will defeat Bhima first and then think of what to do with the
others.’
The wrestling match went on for fourteen days from sunrise to sunset. It
was unclear who would emerge the winner since both Bhima and
Jarasandha were equally strong.
Krishna knew about Jarasandha’s circumstances of birth, and decided to
use that knowledge to help Bhima during the next match. As the opponents
wrestled, Krishna picked up a twig and split it vertically into two, ensuring
that Bhima saw his actions. Bhima understood—he grabbed Jarasandha and
split his body into two vertical halves. To his surprise, the body snapped
back again and Jarasandha stood up.
Krishna signalled to Bhima again—he indicated that Bhima must split
Jarasandha into two but then make the two halves face away from each
other. Bhima followed Krishna’s advice and just as the latter had predicted,
Jarasandha’s body remained in two halves, thus killing him.
Krishna then released all the imprisoned women and kings and crowned
Jarasandha’s son Sahadeva the king of Magadha. Krishna wanted to prove
to the world that he wasn’t fighting for Jarasandha’s kingdom but against
the evil that he represented.
Later, Sahadeva, along with the released kings, became the Pandavas’
allies in the war.
Even now, Krishna is also famously known as Ranchod—the one who ran away from the
battlefield. Today, the city of Dwarka is located on the seashore in the state of Gujarat.
 Whose Side Should I Be On?

Krishna had a son named Samba who was married to Lakshana,

Duryodhana’s daughter. When it was certain that the war would happen,
Lakshana wanted Krishna to help her father. She feared that Krishna would
be more inclined to join the Pandavas, who were not just his cousins but
also very dear to him because of their values and ideals.
After much deliberation, Krishna called Arjuna and Duryodhana to his
home in Dwarka.
Duryodhana reached first and entered Krishna’s chambers while the latter
was fast asleep. Silently, Duryodhana sat on the bed behind Krishna’s head.
A little while later, Arjuna also reached Krishna’s home and was directed
to his chambers. He entered the room with hesitation. He didn’t want to
wake Krishna so he sat down on the floor near his feet.
Some time passed and Krishna, who had only been pretending to be
asleep, stirred and opened his eyes. First, he saw Arjuna near his feet. Then
he turned to one side and his eyes fell on Duryodhana. Krishna greeted both
of them.
 ‘We have come to ask you for help in the upcoming war,’ said
Duryodhana.
Krishna said, ‘Since both of you want my help, I will give you a choice.
One of you can have my army, the Narayana Sena, and the other can have
me but without my army, of course. I must also add that I will not fight or
use any weapons in the war.’
‘I hope I get to choose first,’ thought Duryodhana. ‘The Narayana Sena
hasn’t lost a single battle since Krishna established his home in Dwarka. If
they join the troops I already have, I will have the mightiest army the world
has ever seen. My victory will be assured. What is the use of having
Krishna only as a statesman and a strategist? He says he won’t even fight!’
Before Arjuna could say anything, Duryodhana piped up, ‘I want to
choose first.’
Krishna said, ‘I saw Arjuna first when I opened my eyes, so I will give
him the first choice.’
‘I choose you, Krishna, not your army,’ replied Arjuna. ‘It doesn’t matter
whether you fight in the war or not.’
Duryodhana couldn’t contain his happiness. He would now get the army
he wanted and the victory!
Thus both Arjuna and Duryodhana left for their homes content with their
choices. Krishna smiled as he saw them go.
When Duryodhana reached Hastinapur, he told everyone how he now had
the Narayana Sena on their side. Shakuni, his maternal uncle, gave
Duryodhana a pat on his back and said, ‘This is the best deal you could get,
son. Good job! What is the use of only having Krishna?’
Bhishma, however, didn’t agree. ‘You have made the wrong choice,
Duryodhana. What is the point of having the Narayana Sena without
Narayana? If Krishna isn’t there to lead his army, then the army has no
strength by itself. We need a skilled strategist and a leader who understands
the weaknesses and strengths of our opponents. This move has given the
Pandavas a big advantage.’
Meanwhile, in the Pandavas’ home, Yudhishthira was ecstatic. ‘You did
the right thing by choosing Krishna, brother. Without him, we won’t be able
to survive the war. He may not use his weapons but he will tell us how and
when to fight.’
In the end, it was Krishna’s strategies that helped the Pandavas win the
great war.
 The Five Golden Arrows

The Mahabharata war took place in the battlefield of Kurukshetra, and went
on for eighteen days. During the first ten days, the commander-in-chief of
the Kauravas’ army was the old and respected warrior Bhishma. Despite his
age, he was a fierce fighter and killed a great number of soldiers.
Duryodhana, however, was unhappy. He had noticed that Bhishma, who
had played the role of a grandfather in his life, did not intend to kill the five
Pandava brothers. Duryodhana was well aware of Bhishma’s affection for
them and was upset about his grand-uncle’s partiality.
Unable to let things be, he approached Bhishma’s tent one night.
‘Grandfather,’ said Duryodhana. ‘You are a fine combatant but I am
ashamed of you. You are Sage Parashurama’s disciple and one of the
greatest warriors in the world, and still you haven’t been able to kill even
one of the Pandavas! I have a feeling that you are actually fighting on their
behalf in secret.’
Bhishma was hurt. With much effort, he calmed down and replied, ‘How
can you say that to me, son? The world knows that I am sincere in my
duties and true to my word.’
Then he pulled out five arrows from his quiver, closed his eyes and
touched them briefly. The arrows glowed with the colour of gold.
‘What are these?’ asked Duryodhana, afraid to touch them.
‘I have energized these five arrows with my strength and vitality—one
for each of the Pandavas. If I use them in battle, they are sure to hit their
target. There is no escape, I assure you.’
Duryodhana was pleased. ‘If Grandfather uses these arrows tomorrow,
then the Pandavas will certainly be destroyed,’ he thought. ‘But I can’t trust
him completely. What if he hands over these arrows to them?’
So he looked at Bhishma and said, ‘Grandfather, I will keep the arrows
and hand them over to you tomorrow.’
Bhishma understood what Duryodhana was implying. ‘I am the one who
created the arrows with the specific purpose of destroying the Pandavas.
Don’t you have faith in me?’ he questioned.
‘Please, Grandfather, I would like to keep the arrows with me tonight,’
Duryodhana insisted.
Bhishma nodded and gave him the five arrows.
The news of the golden arrows reached Krishna through a spy, and he
immediately told Arjuna about them.
Seeing Arjuna’s alarmed face, Krishna said to him, ‘Do you remember
your encounter with the gandharvas during the exile?’ he asked.
Arjuna recalled the incident.
 Once Duryodhana brought his friends and camped near the hut in which
the Pandavas lived so he could keep an eye on them. While he was
wandering in the forest during the visit and making fun of the Pandavas in a
loud voice, he met some gandharvas and got into a heated argument with
them. The gandharvas and Duryodhana agreed to a short combat. Within
minutes, the gandharvas defeated Duryodhana. They tied him to a tree and
began making fun of him.
Yudhishthira heard about the incident and immediately asked Arjuna and
Bhima to go and help Duryodhana.
Bhima refused, but Arjuna obeyed his elder brother and rescued
Duryodhana.
Duryodhana was ashamed of his behaviour and felt that it was his duty to
give Arjuna something in return for his assistance. He said to Arjuna, ‘You
have freed me from the gandharvas. Tell me what you want and I will
ensure that your wish is fulfilled.’
‘I don’t want anything. I only came because my brother asked me to.’
But Duryodhana insisted on returning the favour somehow.
Finally, Arjuna said, ‘Let’s keep this on hold. If I need something in the
future, I will let you know.’
Later, Arjuna narrated the incident to Krishna but he himself forgot all
about the favour.
Now Krishna reminded him of Duryodhana’s promise. He said,
‘Bhishma’s arrows will slay you and your brothers. It is time for you to ask
Duryodhana for the favour he owes you. You know what to do.’
Arjuna went to Duryodhana’s tent that same night.
After they had exchanged greetings, Arjuna reminded him, ‘Do you
remember how you had promised me a favour whenever I needed it after I
defeated the gandharvas who’d attacked you?’
Duryodhana nodded.
‘Well, I’d like those five golden arrows that Grandfather has given you.’
Duryodhana wasn’t expecting this. Even though he was very upset he
knew that he had to keep his promise. He sighed and handed over the
arrows to Arjuna. ‘Here, take them,’ he said. ‘But tell me, who advised you
to take the arrows from me today?’
Arjuna smiled. ‘You already know the answer—it is Krishna.’
Helplessly, Duryodhana watched Arjuna walk away with the precious
arrows.
 The next morning, when Bhishma asked Duryodhana for the arrows, he
hung his head in shame and said, ‘I am sorry, Grandfather, I gave the arrows
to Arjuna. Can you please create them again?’
‘Sorry, Duryodhana, I can’t. Had they been with me, I wouldn’t have
given them to the Pandavas. You have handed over victory to your enemies
with your own hands,’ remarked Bhishma.
 The Illusion of Sunset

While they were in exile, the Pandavas once left Draupadi with Sage
Trunabindu as they had to go to the forest to hunt and collect firewood.
King Jayadratha, the ruler of the Sindhu kingdom, happened to pass by
their hut a little while after the brothers left. Jayadratha was married to the
Kauravas’ only sister, Dushala. As he went close to the hut, he happened to
notice Draupadi, who was engaged in some household chores, and was
enchanted by her beauty. He didn’t know who she was so he went to her
and introduced himself, hoping to learn more about her. That’s when he
found out that she was the wife of the Pandavas.
Draupadi was happy to meet a relative and welcomed him inside.
Jayadratha, now growing bolder, said, ‘O beautiful lady, come with me.
You shouldn’t stay with men like the Pandavas, who were careless enough
to lose you in a bet. It is obvious that they don’t know how to treat you. You
can become my queen and I promise you that you will want for nothing.’
‘Please behave yourself!’ said Draupadi, trying to put Jayadratha in his
place. ‘You are our guest and a relative.’
Jayadratha wouldn’t take no for an answer and forced her into his chariot.
The sage Trunabindu, who had been inside all this while, heard
Draupadi’s cries and came running out of the hut but the chariot had already
left by then. The sage screamed for help, and, fortunately, the Pandavas,
who were returning from their task, heard the shouts and raced back.
Arjuna and Bhima rushed to rescue Draupadi. The two of them soon
caught up with the chariot and fought with Jayadratha. They then tied him
up and brought him back to the hut along with Draupadi.
 Bhima wanted to kill him but Draupadi begged him not to. ‘Dushala is
your cousin, dear husband. Think of her. In your anger, you will make her a
widow. But I agree that he must not go unpunished—you may send him
back in shame as you see fit.’
So Bhima shaved Jayadratha’s head, but left five spots of hair on his pate
—the mark of a slave. Then he set him free.
This incident filled Jayadratha with angst and a thirst for revenge. He
performed an austere penance for Lord Shiva, who appeared and asked him
what he desired.
‘I want to defeat the Pandavas,’ said Jayadratha.
‘That is impossible,’ replied the god. ‘Lord Krishna is on their side.’
 Jayadratha knew that a war was to come in the future. He said, ‘Then at
least give me one such day in the war when I can stop them from advancing
further.’
‘So be it,’ blessed Lord Shiva, ‘but Arjuna will be an exception to this.’
Jayadratha’s father, Vridhakshtra, had become an ascetic after handing
over the kingdom to his son. Through his powers, he divined that his son
would be killed for his bad deeds. So he performed multiple penances and
harnessed his spiritual powers into designing a curse: whoever caused his
son Jayadratha’s head to fall to the ground would turn to ashes.
During the war, Jayadratha chose the side of the Kauravas. On the
thirteenth day, Arjuna’s son Abhimanyu entered a battle formation created
by the Kauravas’ army, which was known as the chakravyuha. But he had
only learnt to breach the formation, not to exit it. Using the boon from
Shiva, Jayadratha stopped Yudhishthira, Bhima, Nakula and Sahadeva from
advancing and entering the chakravyuha to help Abhimanyu, who was
brutally killed by the Kauravas.
Unfortunately, Arjuna was busy fighting elsewhere and remained
unaware of the fate of his son. When he later learnt how his brave son had
been slaughtered and how his brothers couldn’t help him in the
chakravyuha because of Jayadratha, he took a vow: ‘I will kill Jayadratha
before tomorrow’s sunset. If I fail, I will kill myself by jumping into fire.’
Krishna, who heard the vow, was greatly concerned. He knew that the
Pandavas didn’t stand a chance of winning the war without Arjuna. So he
devised a strategy to save him.
Meanwhile, in the opposing camp, Drona was busy formulating a plan to
protect Jayadratha. The Kauravas had to hide him only for a day.
Eventually, Drona arranged for the finest soldiers in the army to line up in
front of Jayadratha in such a manner that it would be almost impossible for
Arjuna to reach him.
The next day—the fourteenth day of the war—was long and weary. All
day, Drona’s strategy had worked and Jayadratha was still alive.
Sunset was almost upon them. The Pandavas started to worry. Then
Krishna discreetly used his celestial discus to mask the sun and create the
illusion of a sunset.
Within minutes, the lines of soldiers in front of Jayadratha were
dismissed and the Kauravas rejoiced thinking that the sun had set and that
Arjuna’s death was now certain.
 Jayadratha himself stood before Arjuna and taunted him.
Sensing that the moment was close, Krishna removed the discus masking
the sun. The illusion of the sunset was shattered and the rays of the setting
sun dispelled the darkness.
Jayadratha now stood in full view of both armies and without any
protection.
Krishna instructed Arjuna, ‘Kill Jayadratha in such a way that when his
head is dismembered, it flies through the air and lands on his father’s lap.’
Arjuna’s shot resulted in just that. Jayadratha’s head fell into
Vridhakshtra’s lap, who had been busy meditating. Startled, the ascetic
stood up and his son’s head fell to the ground. Vridhakshtra was reduced to
ashes, doomed by his own curse.
Thus Krishna saved Arjuna from certain death and dealt a heavy blow to
the Kauravas by helping to slay both Jayadratha and his father with a single
shot.
 Drona’s Achilles’ Heel

Drona was a prodigious warrior and hard to defeat on the battlefield. As the
war went on, Krishna wondered how Drona could be defeated. He was
aware that Drona’s Achilles’ heel was his son, Ashwatthama.
One day, Krishna learnt that there was an elephant in their cavalry also
called Ashwatthama. He knew what he had to do to defeat Drona.
He approached Yudhishthira and said, ‘Let’s use the elephant
Ashwatthama in battle today.’
During the course of the day, the elephant fell down and died.
As Bhima had a loud voice, Krishna asked him to announce loudly that
Ashwatthama had met his end. Bhima obeyed and began shouting, ‘Listen
to me! Ashwatthama is no more!’
When Drona heard the news, he wondered in confusion, ‘Is my son really
dead?’
 He searched everywhere for his son but couldn’t find him. Drona had
difficulty believing Bhima but he trusted Yudhishthira blindly. So he asked
the oldest and the most righteous of the Pandavas, ‘Tell me, who has died?’
Krishna had already told Yudhishthira and Bhima what to say and do.
‘Ashwatthama hataha ,’ said Yudhishthira truthfully. It meant that
Ashwatthama had died. Yudhishthira opened his mouth to clarify further but
Bhima, as if on cue, blew a conch so loudly that Drona couldn’t hear the
rest of the sentence.
Yudhishthira added, ‘Narova kunjarova (I don’t know whether it is a
human being or an elephant).’
But Drona only heard that Ashwatthama had died. Overwhelmed by
sadness, he just sat on the ground, numb, and refused to fight. ‘Why should
I fight when my son is no more? What do I live for?’ he thought.
Taking advantage of Drona’s vulnerability, Drishtadyumna, Drupada’s
son, cut off the great teacher’s head, thus fulfilling his father’s vow of
vengeance.
 The Sun Child

Before Kunti married Pandu and became mother to the Pandavas, she’d
received a boon from a sage that would allow her to invoke any god and be
blessed with his child. Curious to test the boon, she called upon the sun god,
Surya. The boon worked, and Kunti gave birth to Karna.
Afraid of what the world would say since she wasn’t married, Kunti
abandoned her newborn. Karna was found and raised by Adiratha, a
charioteer, and his wife, Radha. Adiratha and his wife brought him up with
such love and care that Karna also came to be known as Radheya, the son
of Radha.
Karna was as intelligent as his brother Arjuna but because he wasn’t from
royalty he wasn’t formally trained in warfare under Drona. However, he
learnt most skills in the ashram of Parashurama.
When the Pandavas and the Kauravas completed their education, Drona
arranged for a display of their skills where all could come and witness their
learning in the form of a tournament. Yudhishthira demonstrated his javelin-
throwing abilities while Bhima and Duryodhana exhibited their skills with
the mace. Arjuna demonstrated his archery and Nakula and Sahadeva
showed their mastery in horse riding.
Everyone present was stunned by Arjuna’s outstanding performance.
Duryodhana thought, ‘I don’t think any of my brothers can match
Arjuna’s skill.’
Suddenly, a young man who had been part of the crowd all along stood
up. ‘I can match whatever Arjuna has presented here,’ he declared.
Drona was certain that no one could even get close to Arjuna’s level. So
he invited the young man to the arena without hesitation.
 To everyone’s surprise, the young man proved to be Arjuna’s equal.
‘What kingdom do you belong to?’ Drona asked the young man. ‘Are
you a prince?’
The young man shook his head. ‘I am Karna, the son of charioteer
Adiratha,’ he said.
The crowd burst into laughter—he was a nobody. He had neither land nor
a kingdom.
Duryodhana, however, was intrigued and wanted to befriend the young
man. So he invited Karna to sit beside him and presented him with the
kingdom of Anga. Karna thus became Angaraja. This was the beginning of
a lasting friendship between the two men.
Karna was a generous man. He worshipped Surya every day on the banks
of the river Ganga. He was especially grateful to the river because she had
guided the basket he was abandoned in into the hands of his adoptive father
Adiratha. After the puja, Karna would give alms to the poor and fulfil the
needs of all who came to him.
 Karna had been born with a pair of special earrings and a body shield that
were permanently attached to his body. The earrings were blessed by Surya
and contained supernatural strength that would allow Karna to defeat any
opponent and emerge victorious.
When it was time for the war, Krishna knew that as long as the earrings
and the shield remained with Karna, it would be difficult for the Pandavas
to beat him.
One day, Krishna called upon Indra and said to him, ‘If you want your
son Arjuna to be successful in the war ahead, then please go to Karna after
his daily puja and ask for his earrings and his shield as alms.’
Indra went to the river Ganga at the appropriate hour and waited for
Karna in the guise of an old man. After the puja, Karna approached the old
man and asked gently, ‘Sir, what can I give you?’
‘Your earrings and the body shield,’ said the man.
Karna instantly realized that the old man was not who he seemed. But
that did not deter him from giving away the objects that he had been asked
for. Without another word he gave away the earrings and the body shield as
alms.
Indra was humbled by Karna’s generosity and felt sorry for him. He
appeared in his true form. ‘Karna!’ he said. ‘I am touched by your big-
heartedness and would like to bestow upon you this powerful arrow—it will
never miss its mark. But remember, you can only use it once.’
‘Maybe this arrow will help me in defeating Arjuna one day,’ thought
Karna.
However, he would later use the arrow to execute the giant-like
Ghatotkacha, the son of Bhima and Hidimbi, who would cause great havoc
in the Kurukshetra war and fall like a mountain on the Kauravas’ army.
Despite Karna’s loss of the earrings and the shield, Krishna still worried
about him and his friendship with the Kauravas.
Just before the war Krishna went to Kunti and said, ‘You must go to your
firstborn, Karna, and try and convince him to join his real brothers. He
already knows that you are his mother. Maybe you will succeed where I
have failed.’
Kunti agreed hesitantly and approached Karna after his daily puja. When
she saw him, her heart filled with sorrow, and tears threatened to spill over
at the memory of how she had abandoned him in the river. She had been
young and immature and worried about her honour. Today, she was proud
of how well her son had done for himself.
‘Tell me, what can I do for you?’ asked Karna when he saw the old lady.
Then he realized who she was and found himself unable to utter another
word.
Kunti tried her best to convince him to join his brothers, but Karna
refused outright. He was not going to change his mind.
Finally Kunti begged, ‘At least promise me that you will not kill your
brothers, Karna.’
‘I can’t promise you that, Mother. But I assure you that I won’t fight any
of my brothers except Arjuna. At the end of the war, either Arjuna or I will
remain standing, and you will still have five sons.’
While Krishna did not disclose the truth to the Pandavas, Karna was
excruciatingly aware of who he was fighting against. Thus Karna’s
unquestioning loyalty to Duryodhana, coupled with his reluctance to slay
his brothers, restricted his progress at climactic moments in the war.
When the day of the fight between Karna and Arjuna arrived, as it was
destined to, the wheel of Karna’s chariot became stuck in mud. Just as he
got down from the chariot to free the wheel, Krishna advised Arjuna, ‘Use
your arrow and kill Karna now!’
‘That is unfair, Krishna! He is on the ground and I am in my chariot. He
is unable to defend himself. It is not right to attack him now.’
‘This is the war of righteousness,’ said Krishna firmly. ‘Karna is clearly
supporting the wrong side. There’s no such thing as “fair” in this war.
Listen to me carefully and kill him now. Don’t waste time.’
Because Arjuna trusted Krishna completely, he eventually gave in and
killed Karna.
 The Last Man Standing

Within days, all of Duryodhana’s friends and loyalists were dead except for
Ashwatthama. With a heavy heart, Duryodhana headed to a placid lake
called Dwaipayana in Kurukshetra. Duryodhana used a special mantra
called the Jala Mantra there, which gave him the ability to stay at the
bottom of the lake for as long as he wanted.
When they did not see Duryodhana for a long time, the Pandavas became
confident that victory was now theirs.
However, Krishna warned them, ‘The war is not over until you defeat
Duryodhana.’
So the Pandavas went in search of Duryodhana. They looked everywhere
but he was nowhere to be found. Finally, they came across a set of
footprints heading towards the lake but there was no matching set of
footprints coming back.
A hunter who was passing by remarked, ‘I saw a person going towards
the lake. He looked like a king and I assumed that he was going there for a
bath.’
Krishna was sure that the man was Duryodhana.
 ‘Maybe he went there to commit suicide . . . he has no one left,’
Yudhishthira said thoughtfully.
Bhima was worried. He had sworn to break Duryodhana’s thighs. ‘If that
is so, how will I fulfil my vow?’ he wondered.
‘Duryodhana will not kill himself,’ said Krishna. ‘He has gone to the lake
to recover from his tiredness and loss. We have not seen the last of him.’
‘Then what should we do?’
‘The only way to make him emerge from his hiding place is to provoke
him,’ advised Krishna. ‘We all know that he can’t help the way he reacts.
And I can’t think of anyone better for this task than Bhima—his childhood
enemy.’
Hearing this, Bhima promptly raced to the lake and began shouting, ‘O
Duryodhana, I know that you are inside the water.’
There was no response.
‘Why are you sitting in the lake like a coward? Aren’t you a kshatriya?’
‘I think you are scared of dying,’ continued Bhima.
Still, there was silence.
‘Dying in a battlefield is the greatest honour for a warrior, but maybe
you’ve changed your mind after all your losses. Maybe now you are more
attracted to the flowers in the water than the weapons of war . . .’
Bhima continued in this vein for some more time.
‘Foolish Duryodhana! Look how the world will remember you—a
coward like they’ve never seen before!’
Suddenly, Duryodhana emerged from the lake, his face red with anger.
His pride and ego had been hurt and he couldn’t contain himself any more.
‘Bhima, stop! Let’s just fight so that I can silence you once and for all. The
winner of the duel will be the winner of the war.’
‘I accept,’ said Bhima simply and watched Duryodhana as he began
walking away from the lake.
This was to be the end—the last battle between two extraordinary mace
champions.
Duryodhana went to his mother to take her blessings—the mother who
had chosen to live her life blindfolded. When she heard about the
impending fight, she knew what she had to do. ‘Today, I will open my eyes
for the first time in decades,’ she said. ‘The energy from my eyes will
provide you with a special power. So go have a bath in the river Ganga and
come to me the way you were on the day that you were born.’
 Desperate for all the power he could get before the mace battle,
Duryodhana took a bath in the river and made his way back to his mother’s
tent.
Out of nowhere, Krishna appeared in front of him and smiled upon
seeing Duryodhana naked. ‘Duryodhana, what are you doing?’ he asked.
Duryodhana explained why he was without clothes.
‘I know your mother has great affection for you and that you are devoted
to her,’ said Krishna. ‘But you are not a small child any more. How can you
go like this in front of your mother? It is completely inappropriate, isn’t it?’
Duryodhana, who was already embarrassed at the thought, agreed. ‘What
should I do?’ he said out loud.
‘Take a few banana leaves from this tree here,’ suggested Krishna, ‘and
cover yourself—at least from the waist till the knees.’
Duryodhana wrapped a few banana leaves around himself and went on
his way.
When he entered his mother’s tent, Gandhari took off her blindfold and
saw her son for the first time in her life. Though she was familiar with his
voice, she had never seen any of her children. Her eyes moistened when she
saw his face. As her eyes fell upon him, Duryodhana felt a wave of energy
pass through his body—almost as if it was charging him. Gandhari’s eyes
made their way down her son’s body. When she saw the banana leaves, her
eyes changed.
‘O son,’ she said with sadness in her voice, ‘I told you to come exactly
like you were the day you were born. Then why did you cover yourself with
leaves? I had opened my eyes to transform your entire body in such a way
that it becomes as hard as diamond. It would have made you strong enough
to withstand every blow from Bhima’s mace. But alas! Now the covered
portion of your body will remain as vulnerable as it was before.’
Saying this, she closed her eyes and blindfolded herself again.
Duryodhana begged her to open her eyes, but Gandhari refused.
‘I have already exhausted my powers and cannot open my eyes a second
time,’ she said. ‘Maybe this is your fate, my son, and I have failed to
prevent it. Tell me, who told you to cover yourself? A mother always looks
at her offspring as a child, no matter his age.’
‘The cowherd Gopala gave me this idea,’ he said, angry at Krishna’s
intervention.
 ‘If that is so, I curse Krishna,’ shouted Gandhari in rage. ‘O Krishna, you
have destroyed our family. Dhritarashtra and I have seen the deaths of our
children. I curse you and your parents—you will all suffer the deaths of
your children and your clan.’
Krishna heard about the curse. ‘The Yadavas are too powerful to be
destroyed by anyone. However, it is true that everyone must perish one day.
If it must happen to the Yadavas, then the only way the curse can come true
is if they fight among themselves. If that is to be the destiny of the Yadavas,
then let it happen,’ he thought, unperturbed.
Decades would pass before the curse would come true. It would result in
the destruction of the Yadava kingdom in Dwarka due to fighting among the
Yadavas themselves.
Even today, whenever a civil war takes place, it is called Yadavi Yuddha,
or a war fought in the way of the Yadavas.
Shortly thereafter, the duel began.
Duryodhana was desperate—he knew that it was the moment of truth.
Almost everyone he had cared for was no longer alive and he fought like a
man who had nothing to lose. Bhima, however, was happy that he had a
chance to end the fierce war and exact revenge on his enemy.
Duryodhana fought fiercely, and while Bhima kept up his onslaught, it
had no effect on Duryodhana because of his mother’s blessings.
Bhima was perplexed. After a while, he became certain that he would
lose. Almost instinctively, he looked at Krishna. The god smiled and just
patted his thighs. Bhima nodded. He carefully aimed for Duryodhana’s
thighs.
The blow was so powerful that Duryodhana fell immediately. Fighting
like a provoked tiger, Bhima kept hitting his opponent’s thighs mercilessly.
Bhima screamed as he landed a powerful blow on Duryodhana, ‘This is
for what you tried to do to us in the house of wax.
‘This one is for Draupadi’s disrobing,’ he said, with another blow.
‘This one is for cheating during gambling and this one for the exile,’ he
said and landed another two powerful blows on Duryodhana’s bloody
thighs.
Krishna intervened. ‘Stop it, Bhima, stop it. His thighs are broken now
and the war is over. Duryodhana has lost to you.’
Bhima stood still, uncertain of what to do next.
‘Let’s go back to our tents,’ Krishna said and pulled him away.
 Duryodhana, the royal prince and the last of the Kauravas, was left to die
alone.
The lake mentioned in the story exists today as the Brahmosarovara in the state of Haryana.
 Barbarika

Much before the Kurukshetra war, Duryodhana had made an attempt to kill
the Pandavas by setting their wax palace on fire. However, the Pandavas
managed to escape with their mother to the forest, where they lived in
disguise.
It was there that the Pandavas met a demon named Hidamba, whose
sister, Hidimbi, fell in love with Bhima. The two got married and had a son
named Ghatotkacha.
When it was time for the Pandavas to go back to their kingdom, Hidimbi
promised Bhima that their son would be at his service whenever he needed
him.
Ghatotkacha grew up to be a fine man with a kind heart and a huge,
strong body. He was also a master illusionist. In time, he married Maurvi, a
princess of the Yadava dynasty, and they had a son whom they called
Barbarika (also known as Belarsen).
Barbarika learnt the arts of war from his mother and archery from a great
guru, and so grew up to be a skilled warrior. He was an ardent devotee of
Lord Shiva, and he’d received an extraordinary gift from him—three
infallible arrows that would stay with him for as long as he was alive. But
when his guru learnt of the arrows, he was worried. ‘It is highly unlikely
that you can ever be defeated now,’ the guru said to Barbarika. ‘So I ask—
which side of a war would you choose?’
‘I promise that I will take the side of the weaker opponent, which most
people would hesitate to do,’ he said without a moment’s hesitation.
The guru nodded and blessed his disciple.
 When the great war was announced, Barbarika visited his parents and
grandparents. Hidimbi remembered her promise to Bhima and told
Ghatotkacha and Barbarika, ‘Both of you must participate in this war. You
belong to the family of the Pandavas. I’d promised my husband that our
children would be there whenever he needs them. A promise is a promise—
it must be kept under any circumstances.’
Taking the blessings of his parents and his grandparents Barbarika went
to the camp of the Pandavas. Bhima and the others were ecstatic to see him
and welcomed him with open arms. They had already heard about his
exceptional skills.
Surprisingly, Krishna was a little detached and wasn’t as thrilled as the
others about Barbarika’s arrival. One day, he sought out Barbarika when the
latter was meditating under a tree. ‘Tell me,’ asked Krishna, ‘why do you
want to join the Pandavas?’
‘There are two reasons,’ said Barbarika. ‘First, these are my people and
my family. Second, they have only seven akshauhinis while the Kauravas
have eleven. This makes the Pandavas the weaker of the two camps. I
promised my teacher that I would always support the weaker opponent.’
Krishna fell silent. After a few minutes, he changed the subject and
asked, ‘Tell me about your special arrows.’
‘My arrows are no ordinary ones. The first one will mark my enemies
and return to me. The second will kill those marked by the first arrow and
then come back to me. The third is just a spare.’
Krishna recalled a conversation that he had had with different warriors
about the number of days they thought the war could last. Bhishma had told
him that he could end the war in twenty days. Drona had given an estimate
of twenty-six days while Karna gave it twenty-seven days. Arjuna, on the
other hand, had specified twenty-eight days.
Now, Krishna asked Barbarika the same question, ‘My dear child, how
many days do you think it will take for this war to end?’
‘No more than three days,’ he responded.
‘In that case, you are possibly the greatest warrior today, maybe even
better than Bhishma himself. Do you see this tree?’ said Krishna pointing to
a tree nearby.
Barbarika nodded.
‘Now assume that each leaf is a soldier and pretend that they are your
enemies,’ continued Krishna. ‘Use your arrows and show me what you can
do.’
Barbarika shut his eyes and took out his bow and the first arrow. Quickly,
Krishna hid a leaf under his foot.
Barbarika opened his eyes and shot the first arrow. The arrow had a red
mark on its tail and began touching all the leaves and marking them with a
red dot. Once that was done, Barbarika took out the second arrow and shot
it. One by one, it began destroying the leaves with the red dot. Finally, it
pierced Krishna’s foot and blood started oozing out of the wound.
 Barbarika was upset. He apologized, ‘Sir, my arrow has hurt your foot! I
am very sorry.’
‘It’s not your fault,’ said Krishna, consoling him. ‘I had placed a leaf
below my foot in order to test your arrows.’
‘But the area of the wound will now always be vulnerable. Please take
care of your foot!’ Barbarika requested earnestly.
Krishna’s mind was somewhere else. He said, ‘I am curious, Barbarika.
You have joined the Pandavas now because they have a smaller army. But
once the Kauravas lose more people, they will become weak. Then whose
side will you be on?’
‘Well, then I will have to switch sides and support the Kauravas!’
‘If that happens, you will damage the Pandavas’ army and they will again
become feeble. Then what?’
‘Then I must return to the Pandavas.’
‘What will happen if I hide all the Pandavas? Will your arrow still find
them?’
‘Yes,’ said Barbarika. ‘It will find them. For sure.’
‘So you will kill your grandfather and his family?’
Barbarika did not answer. He was speechless.
‘Because of the foolish promise you made to your teacher, you will
oscillate between the two camps along with your powerful arrows. At the
end, everyone will die and only you will remain. Barbarika, it is a good
thing to make a promise or a vow, but you can’t do it without thinking about
long-term consequences. Think about it—Bhishma’s vow of celibacy could
very well be the root cause of this war. Your promise to your teacher
brought you here but you might end up killing your own family! You are a
fantastic warrior and a kind man. But . . . what a conundrum!’
‘I never thought of it that way,’ admitted Barbarika. ‘But I can’t change
anything now. The promise has been made.’ Then he remembered his
grandmother. ‘O Krishna, but I also promised my family that I would fight
in the war. Tell me, what should I do now?’
‘I can guide you and be your guru,’ said Krishna. ‘But you have to give
me gurudakshina.’
‘I am ready to give you my life, dear Krishna. Tell me what you want and
I will give it to you.’
‘In that case,’ said Krishna sadly, ‘I want your head.’
 Barbarika smiled gently. ‘Of course, Krishna. It is a great honour—you
accepting my gurudakshina. But I have one last desire. Will you help me?’
‘I will ensure that it is done,’ said Krishna.
‘I am a warrior—even if I can’t fight, I would at least like to observe the
war. You may have my head, but how will I witness the war?’
‘That won’t be a problem, Barbarika. Even though your head will be
separated from your body, I can guarantee that you will be able to hear and
see the war till the end. That is my promise to you,’ said Krishna.
Just then, the Pandavas arrived at the spot. They had heard the last part of
the conversation and understood that it was another of Krishna’s strategies.
Still, they couldn’t hold back their tears. Barbarika was their grandson and
they were proud of his courage and commitment.
The young man bowed to his grandfathers, and decapitated himself.
After the deed was done, Krishna turned to Bhima and said, ‘Take your
grandson’s head and put it on the top of a hill so he can view the unfolding
of the war of Kurukshetra. From this day on, he will be known as Mahatma
Barbarika. He has become the first warrior to give up his life for this war.’
Following Krishna’s orders, Bhima placed Barbarika’s head on the top of
a hill, from where Barbarika could see everything that happened in the
battlefield.
Soon after the war, everybody from the Pandavas’ side gathered together
and talked about how each one had contributed to the victory.
‘I was able to kill many Kauravas because of my skill with the mace,’
said Bhima.
‘Well, it was my powerful Gandiva that helped slay Drona, Karna and
Grandfather Bhishma,’ remarked Arjuna.
By then, Sage Vyasa had also joined the conversation. ‘None of us really
knows who has contributed the most to the victory because we did not see
the whole picture. Let’s ask Barbarika—he is the only true witness,’ said
the sage.
So they all went to meet Barbarika, who was still at the top of the hill.
He said, ‘I could see a fascinating war with many nuances, but my
opinion is that the war was won because of the sudarshan chakra—the
celestial discus. I saw the chakra circle the person who was destined to die
that particular day, whether it was Bhishma, Karna or Dushasana. It is clear
that death is predestined and everything is just a means or an instrument to
that end. To me, Krishna is the only one responsible for the victory.’
 Krishna then joined Barbarika’s body to his head and he came back to
life.
However, Barbarika refused to go back home to his family. He said, ‘I
have seen the worst of humanity and am not interested in living the life you
expect me to. I don’t want or need any arrows or power. I want to spend the
remainder of my days as a sage.’ Then he turned to Krishna, ‘You did the
best for me.’
Krishna smiled. ‘In the time ahead, people will remember you and the
sacrifice you made. Your unconditional love for me will join my name to
yours and you will forever be called by my name—Shyam.’
Thus Krishna never used his weapons during the war. Time made it clear
that Arjuna had made the right choice in choosing Krishna over the
Narayana Sena.
Today, Barbarika is worshipped in the state of Rajasthan as Khatushyam.
 The King of Udupi
A Folk Story

When the war of Kurukshetra took place, even the rulers of other lands
ended up choosing sides and were compelled to fight each other.
For instance, King Shalya, the maternal uncle of Nakula and Sahadeva,
was tricked into siding with the Kauravas. King Vinda and King Anuvinda,
Krishna’s brothers-in-law, also fought for the Kauravas. One of the
Kauravas, Yuyutsu, was the only one to switch sides and join the Pandavas.
Krishna’s brother Balarama, upset with the whole affair, went on a
pilgrimage instead.
The king of Udupi, unable to choose a side, refused to take a decision. He
said, ‘I will be in charge of the kitchen and feed soldiers from both camps.’
The war began.
Each day took the lives of many soldiers. At the end of the day, the
remaining fighters from both the camps came to the kitchen and ate
together.
 There was one strange thing that didn’t escape notice—no food was ever
left over after everyone had finished their meal in the evening. The king of
Udupi seemed to know exactly how much food had to be made every day,
but that also meant that he knew beforehand how many soldiers would not
live to see another night. Curious, the Pandavas asked the king one day,
‘Please tell us how you know the exact number of soldiers that will make it
back alive each day?’
He smiled. ‘I have a simple technique. I take a bag of peanuts to Krishna
at the end of every day and observe him closely. Then I multiply the
number of peanuts he eats by one thousand and deduce the number of
soldiers that are going to die the next day.’
The Pandavas were stunned.
After the war ended, Krishna blessed the king, saying, ‘You have taken
care of all the soldiers who’ve fought in this battle, without any bias. Your
future generations will be famous for making delicious food and serving it
efficiently.’
People say that this is the reason we see so many Udupi restaurants
across India!
 The Price of Loyalty

Vikarna was the son of Dhritarashtra and Gandhari and one of the hundred
Kauravas. Three Kauravas are frequently remembered—Duryodhana,
Dushasana and Vikarna. While the first two are notorious for their bad
deeds, Vikarna stands out for opposing his brothers.
During the infamous dice game, Vikarna was the only one who raised his
voice against the way the game was played and the mistreatment of
Draupadi, while even the elders of the family like Bhishma, Drona and
Dhritarashtra remained silent.
Duryodhana was upset with his brother, but Vikarna stuck to his guns.
‘By insulting Draupadi you have brought downfall upon our own clan,’ he
warned.
Out of loyalty, he fought for his brothers in the war against the Pandavas.
While he killed the other Kauravas without a moment’s remorse, Bhima
didn’t touch Vikarna.
However, when they finally had to face each other in an unavoidable one-
on-one fight, Vikarna said, ‘Bhima, you and I both know that the Kauravas
are not going to win this war, and it’s all because you have Krishna’s
support. When it was my duty to oppose the dice game, I did. Now it is my
duty to fight for my brother, and I will.’
 Thus the two cousins engaged in a fierce battle until Bhima killed
Vikarna. Bhima wept bitterly and lamented, ‘Vikarna, you knew what was
right and what was wrong and yet your fate was sealed. You chose loyalty
over dharma. This war is a curse for people like you and me.’
Vikarna’s story is similar to that of Kumbhakarna in the epic Ramayana.
Both Kumbhakarna and Vikarna were well aware of the right path but they
still chose to fight for their respective brothers and even die for them.
 The Golden Mongoose

After the Pandavas won the war, Yudhishthira became the emperor of the
land. He performed many yagnas and made large donations to all those who
approached him for help. In time, word spread about his large-heartedness.
One day, a little mongoose came to the site of one of Yudhishthira’s
yagnas and began rolling in the ashes from the ritual. One half of the
mongoose’s body was golden.
When the murmurs finally settled down and the mongoose had rolled
around in the ashes to his satisfaction, he spoke in a human voice. ‘O King
Yudhishthira, I have heard great praises of your yagnas and the lavish
donations you make to those in need. But I am disappointed. I wasn’t
expecting you to conduct a yagna in this ordinary way!’
Yudhishthira was hurt by the mongoose’s words. ‘I have followed all the
rules for peforming this puja. How can you call this . . . ordinary?’ he
asked.
‘Let me tell you about my experience of a great yagna,’ said the
mongoose.
The audience fell silent, keen to hear the mongoose’s story.
 ‘In a small village not far from here,’ the mongoose began, ‘there once
lived an old man, along with his wife, son and daughter-in-law. They were
very poor and could barely make ends meet. To add to their woes, a famine
struck their land and the family began to starve.
‘One day, the old man found a little rice for his family from somehere.
His wife cooked the rice and divided it into four parts. Just as they were
about to eat, there was a knock on the door. When the old man opened it, he
found a man looking so fatigued that he was about to drop to the floor.
Taking pity on the unexpected visitor, the old man invited him inside and
remarked, “You look hungry.”
‘“Yes, I have been wandering around for a long time . . . it has been
several days since I have eaten,” said the visitor.
‘“You have come at the right time. We were just about to have our meal.
Please take this portion and satisfy your hunger,” said the old man and
offered his share of the food to him.
‘Too tired to even thank his host, the traveller took the bowl and wolfed
down the rice in less than a minute. Then he looked at the old man—he was
still hungry.
‘The old man’s wife now came forward and gave away her portion too.
Seeing her husband’s surprised face, she said, “This man is our guest. When
you have been so kind to give our visitor your portion and are willing to go
hungry for another day, then it is my duty to do the same.”
‘The traveller ate the second helping but he still looked as hungry as he
had when he’d walked in through the door. Now, the old man’s son came
forward, “When my parents can go hungry, I can too.”
‘Thus the traveller ate the son’s portion too.
‘Finally, the daughter-in-law also offered her share. The old man stopped
her, saying, “You are the youngest in the family . . . I cannot let you starve!”
‘The daughter-in-law smiled and said, “Feeding our guest is like
performing a yagna for the gods above. The three of you have been selfless
. . . I would like to give my portion as an offering to the yagna too.”
‘And she too handed over her share to the traveller. The visitor blessed
the family saying, “You have given me everything without keeping
anything for yourselves. This is the most sincere yagna I have ever seen.
May God bless you.’
‘Almost as if this was some kind of a test, God himself arrived and began
escorting the family to heaven.
 ‘It was then that I happened to pass their house and saw all of them going
to heaven,’ the mongoose’s voice rang loud and clear as the people in the
yagna returned to the present moment, after having been completely
transfixed by the story. ‘I glanced around and saw a scrap of food lying on
the ground nearby. Before I knew it, I slipped and fell on the food. When I
got up, I found that the side of my body that had fallen on the food had been
transformed into gold.’
The mongoose turned slightly to display the golden half of his body. ‘I
wanted to transform my entire body but there was no more food left. That’s
why my body looks like this now,’ he added. ‘Since this happened to me, I
have been travelling from one yagna to another in the hope of turning my
other half into gold. But I couldn’t find a single worthy yagna. When I
heard about King Yudhishthira and this yagna, I was sure that my wish
would be fulfilled. But alas! O king, your yagna is not as sincere or pure as
the one performed by the family of that poor man.’
The golden mongoose then disappeared from sight.
Yudhishthira felt humbled. He had been taught an important lesson—it is
not the lavishness of a gift that counts, but the purity of one’s soul and the
spirit of sacrifice that makes a yagna successful.
 The Lost Son

Sometime before the Kurukshetra war, while the Pandavas were still ruling
Indraprastha, a man approached Arjuna one day. ‘Some wild animals are
troubling my cattle, Arjuna! Please help me,’ he pleaded.
‘I will,’ promised Arjuna, who was always willing to help the needy.
But the bow and arrows were in Yudhishthira’s room and he was resting
there with Draupadi, and Arjuna didn’t want to disturb them. It was an
unwritten rule amongst them that whoever disturbed the resting couple
would have to go on a one-year exile.
Arjuna wondered, ‘What takes priority—the man who needs my help or
the danger of a one-year exile?’
After some thought, Arjuna decided that it was more important to help
people, so he entered the room, took his bow and arrows silently and chased
away the wild animals that were attacking the man’s cattle.
When Arjuna returned, he told Yudhishthira and Draupadi what he had
done and not wanting to escape the consequences of having broken the rule,
left the house. Before departing, he went to his mother, who blessed him
saying, ‘Kalyana mastu, kalyana mastu, kalyana mastu (May good things
happen).’
Arjuna spent his self-imposed exile wandering around the neighbouring
kingdoms in disguise. All his life, he’d only known fame, so now he
enjoyed the anonymity the disguise brought him.
At some point, he found himself in the kingdom of Manipur. Arjuna
stayed at a small temple on the outskirts of the capital, from where he could
observe the goings-on of the kingdom. To his surprise, he noticed that the
most important positions in the king’s court were held by women!
The king of Manipur, Chitrabhana, had a beautiful daughter named
Chitrangada, who was a warrior herself. When the princess encountered the
handsome Arjuna, she fell in love with him. Her father requested Arjuna to
marry her but he refused. ‘I have to get back to Indraprastha,’ was Arjuna’s
honest reply. ‘Manipur has become dear to my heart, but I cannot stay here
all my life.’
King Chitrabhana was insistent. He said, ‘I would still like you to marry
my daughter. You are free to leave whenever you want, but Chitrangada
cannot go with you, and neither can the children you have together. They
belong to my kingdom—their home is here.’
Arjuna agreed and married Chitrangada.
Through her, he met her friend Ulupi—a Naga princess. Ulupi also fell in
love with Arjuna and married him. However, like Chitrangada, she couldn’t
leave her kingdom—the underwater world—either.
Soon it was time for Arjuna to leave. He journeyed to Dwarka, where he
met and married Subhadra. After a year, Arjuna went back to Indraprastha
along with her.
Legend has it that this was the reason Kunti blessed him three times—a
way to signify his three marriages during the exile.
Years passed, and the Kurukshetra war happened, causing countless
deaths and throwing even the gods in turmoil. Dharma was restored once
the Pandavas won.
Vrishaketu, the son of Karna, was lonely after his father’s death in the
war. When the Pandavas learnt the truth about Karna after the war, they
were horrified at what they had done—they had killed their own brother
and in a heinous way! So they decided to accept Vrishaketu as one of their
own and bestowed all their affection on him.
After some time had passed, Yudhishthira decided to hold an
Ashwamedha yagna, and Arjuna was instructed to follow the horse so he
could fight whoever dared to stop it.
After wandering through many lands, the horse stopped at Maheshvati.
The king of the land was a man named Neeladhwaja—an ardent devotee of
Lord Krishna. He had a wife named Jwala and a daughter, Swaha, who was
married to the fire god, Agni. Agni stayed at his father-in-law’s home and
helped protect the kingdom.
Neeladhwaja’s son Pravira tied the horse from the yagna on Jwala’s
suggestion. As was the norm, this was viewed as an act of defiance.
Neeladhwaja advised his son to untie the horse and accept Yudhishthira as
the sovereign king, as the Pandavas were close to Lord Krishna. However,
Jwala was furious at the thought of giving in to the Pandavas and incited
her husband against them.
 Jwala called her son-in-law Agni to her and made him promise that he
would do anything she asked of him. After he assured her that he’d do
anything she wished, Jwala said, ‘I want you to burn Arjuna’s army and the
camps. The battle is going to begin soon and we must win.’
Agni was shocked. ‘Mother,’ he said. ‘Don’t ask this of me. You know
Krishna is always with Arjuna. This is an unfair demand!’
Jwala was adamant. Agni thus, with the greatest reluctance, began
burning the camps and creating havoc.
Arjuna was advised to use a ‘water weapon’ to fight back against Agni.
Once discharged, the weapon would release heavy volumes of water—
enough to counter Agni’s attacks. But he knew better—he had seen Agni’s
hunger during the burning of the Khandava forest. So Arjuna prayed to
Agni and beseeched him to withdraw, saying that Draupadi, who had been
born out of the fire from a yagna, was Agni’s daughter and that made
Arjuna his son-in-law.
Agni, after much thought, stopped his rampage.
The rest of the battle played out fiercely between the armies of Arjuna
and Neeladhwaja. At the end, Arjuna was able to slay Pravira, and
Neeladhwaja was also eventually seriously injured and forced to surrender.
When Jwala learnt of the death of her son and the loss of her kingdom,
she walked out of the capital in fury until she reached the river Ganga.
Standing by the river, she thought of Bhishma, Ganga’s son, and said to her,
‘O Ganga, don’t you have any concern for your dead son Bhishma? Arjuna
killed him treacherously . . . made him lie on a bed of arrows . . . and yet,
you let him be. Look what he has done to our kingdom!’
Jwala’s words hit home and Ganga became upset, recalling how Arjuna
had killed her son. She cursed Arjuna saying, ‘May you be killed by your
own son.’
Jwala was then transformed into an arrow and she made her way into a
quiver that belonged to Babruvahana, the young king of Manipur, which
was where the horse stopped next.
King Babruvahana tied up the king’s horse, thus challenging the warriors
accompanying the animal to a battle.
Arjuna agreed.
Now Babruvahana was actually the son of Arjuna and Chitrangada, but
neither of them knew about the other. By the time Babruvahana was born,
Arjuna had already left Manipur. Chitrangada, along with Ulupi, had raised
her son to be a skilled warrior just like his father.
Meanwhile, Chitrangada learnt about Arjuna’s presence in Manipur and
revealed the truth to Babruvahana, who was overjoyed.
He rushed to welcome his father with cartloads of gifts, and introduced
himself as his son. But Arjuna mistook this gesture as an act of cowardice.
‘I only had one son, Abhimanyu, who became a martyr in the war,’ said
Arjuna firmly. ‘I think you are nothing but a coward trying to escape a
fight. Now that you know who I am, you are well aware that you won’t be
able to match my skills, so this is nothing but an act of surrender.’
‘No, Father. Please believe me. My mother, Chitrangada, told me about
you . . . it’s the first time we are meeting each other, these gifts are only a
token of my love and respect for you. We can fight if you want. If I am your
true son, then I am sure to defeat you.’
By then, Chitrangada had also reached the spot, but Arjuna failed to
recognize her.
Not able to bear the insult to his mother, Babruvahana became livid.
‘What kind of a husband are you?’ he shouted. ‘All right, if you want a
fight, then let’s begin.’
Chitrangada was horrified at the thought of father and son battling each
other.
‘Mother,’ called out Babruvahana. ‘You are a skilled warrior yourself.
Come and fight by my side.’
‘Before I became your mother, I was Arjuna’s wife,’ said Chitrangada.
‘My loyalty lies with him.’ She went to Arjuna and took over as his
charioteer without his consent.
Babruvahana was at a loss. He was a devoted son and a good king and
yet his fate was playing terrible tricks on him. His own parents were
warring against him.
Ulupi, the Naga princess, came to his rescue then. She said, ‘You are not
just my student but also dear to my heart. In my opinion, a son is more
important than a husband who has forgotten his own wife. What is the use
of such a husband? I would rather be with my son.’
Saying that she took over the reins of Babruvahana’s chariot and the
battle between the father and the son began.
It wasn’t long before Arjuna understood that the boy was much superior
to him. Babruvahana then used that special arrow in his quiver, the one that
Jwala had transformed into, to wound his father. Arjuna, the great warrior,
thus lay dead before them, killed by his own son.
Chitrangada cried bitterly. ‘O Babruvahana, why did you kill him? Your
father may have been wrong but he’s still the one who gave you life. Ulupi
and I have become widows because of you.’
Ulupi, however, was quiet. She sensed that all was not lost. She carried
Arjuna to her underwater world and brought him back to life by removing
all the poison from his body.
Once Arjuna had been revived, the memories of his old life came rushing
back and he accepted Babruvahana as his son. Thus the curse of River
Ganga came true and reached fruition.
 The Lucky Boy

Chandrahasa, the son of the king of Kerala, was born with six toes in his
left foot. Soon after his birth, his father was killed in a battle, and his
mother died of shock.
The baby was left with a trusted maid, who knew that the land was no
longer safe for the young prince. So she took the infant to a province named
Kuntala and looked after him for a few years, until she also passed away.
The poor orphan boy was left alone, without anyone to call his own.
Fortunately, the people around him were kind and, out of pity, provided him
with food and shelter.
One day, Chandrahasa was playing on the banks of a river when he
spotted a black marble-like stone on the ground. He immediately picked it
up and popped it into his mouth to keep it safe. After a few days, he
realized to his astonishment that whatever he said with the marble in his
mouth would come true! The young boy knew there was something special
about the black marble, so he showed it to a priest.
‘Why, this is a Vishnu shaligram,’ said the priest.
‘Don’t keep it in your mouth,’ advised the priest. ‘Pray to Lord Vishnu
and worship the stone every day. It is sure to bring you prosperity.’
Chandrahasa duly followed the instructions of the priest.
Kuntala had a devious and wicked minister named Dushtabuddhi. One
day, he invited many learned men to his home for a meal. One of the guests
noticed Chandrahasa playing with a few children on the road near the
minister’s house. He instinctively felt that there was something very special
about the boy. So he approached Chandrahasa and examined his hands and
feet. He exclaimed, ‘This boy is very lucky! He will become the king of this
land some day.’
Dushtabuddhi, who happened to hear this prophecy, was alarmed. Surely
this would spoil his future plans! Dushtabuddhi had two children—a son
named Madan and a daughter named Vishaye. He had harboured dreams of
his son marrying the king’s daughter Champakamalini and taking over the
throne when the king was old. So Dushtabuddhi was not at all happy to hear
that some orphan boy who didn’t even have the means to get one meal a
day would take on the position meant for his son!
The minister therefore devised an evil plan. He called his servants and
commanded them to murder the boy in return for a handsome sum.
The servants lured the boy into a forest to kill him. When Chandrahasa
learnt of their intentions, he said, ‘Will you give me a few minutes? I would
like to pray to my shaligram one last time.’
The servants agreed.
While he was praying, the servants heard the roar of a lion. They turned
around to realize that the lion was right behind them, ready to pounce.
Immobilized by fear, they fainted. Chandrahasa ran to a nearby stream, got
some water, and came back and revived them. Chandrahasa’s kind
behaviour and the timely appearance of the lion, almost as if it had
appeared only to protect the boy, made the servants change their minds.
They decided to let him go. However, they had to show proof of the boy’s
death to the minister. So they cut off his sixth toe and went back. Having
seen the proof of the crime, the minister rewarded them.
Meanwhile, Chandrahasa was left in the forest, bleeding and crying in
pain. He called upon Lord Vishnu to help him.
Just then, Kulinda, the king of the forest tribes and a subordinate king of
the land of Kuntala, came across Chandrahasa. When he saw the wounded
boy lying helplessly on the forest floor, he decided to take him to his house.
Kulinda and his wife had no children, so they adopted Chandrahasa and
raised him as their own and as the prince of their tribe. Kulinda’s kingdom
became very prosperous and people attributed this to the luck that
Chandrahasa seemed to have brought with him.
Dushtabuddhi also heard about the handsome prince of the prosperous
tribal lands and went to meet him. When they met, it was obvious to the
shrewd minister that the prince was not Kulinda’s biological son. When he
asked Kulinda about the matter, the king told him about how he had found
the boy, and Dushtabuddhi realized that he had been fooled by his own
servants. He promised himself that he would punish them suitably.
However, his first priority remained the young man. ‘Chandrahasa must be
killed, in one way or the other,’ he thought, and formulated a new plan.
 While he was still staying at King Kulinda’a home, Dushtabuddhi wrote
a letter to his son Madan instructing him to poison the bearer of the sealed
letter. Then he handed over the letter to Chandrahasa and said to him,
‘There is an urgent matter in the capital and this must be delivered to my
son Madan. I trust no one but you to deliver this confidential message
safely.’
The obedient Chandrahasa set off for the capital unaware of the contents
of the letter.
It was Chandrahasa’s first long journey. By the time he reached his
destination, he was very tired. Just as he felt that he could no longer carry
on, he came across a beautiful garden, on the outskirts of the capital. He
decided to rest there for some time before resuming his journey and
promptly fell asleep.
Chandrahasa didn’t know that he was in the royal gardens. Vishaye,
Dushtabuddhi’s daughter, happened to visit the garden along with her
friends at that time. When she saw the sleeping face of the handsome
Chandrahasa, she instantly fell in love with him. She went closer and saw
the letter lying next to him. She recognized the handwriting as her father’s,
and it was addressed to her brother. Curious, she picked up the letter,
opened it and began reading the contents.

Dear Madan,

This may seem like a strange request, but you know your father doesn’t do
anything without reason. Make sure you give the bearer of this letter Visha
as soon as possible. Don’t wait for my arrival, and don’t discuss this with
anyone else.

Your father, Dushtabuddhi

Something was amiss. Visha meant poison in Sanskrit, but surely her father
couldn’t have meant that. Vishaye thought for a minute. Her infatuation
with the young man caused her to completely reinterpret the letter. ‘I’m sure
Father means that I must be given in marriage to this young man. He must
have written this letter in a hurry, which is why instead of writing Vishaye,
he has written Visha!’
Convinced of her theory, Vishaye picked up a mango leaf, dipped its
pointy edge in kohl and changed the word ‘Visha’ to Vishaye. She sealed
the letter and kept it back as she had found it.
Chandrahasa was still asleep.
When he awoke much later, he delivered the note to Madan, who got his
sister Vishaye married to Chandrahasa without waiting for his father’s
return.
After a few days, Dushtabuddhi returned to the capital, and was shocked
to find that Chandrahasa had now become his son-in-law and Vishaye was
terribly in love with him. The king and everybody else at court
congratulated him on the unexpected wedding of his daughter while he
could barely contain his anger.
 Dushtabuddhi was still determined to murder the young man. He called
Chandrahasa one day and said, ‘It is a custom in our family for the new
son-in-law to visit the Mahamaya temple located on the outskirts of the city.
Please take a plate laden with all the items necessary for the puja and
worship the goddess.’
The unsuspecting Chandrahasa obeyed his father-in-law and left for the
temple.
Meanwhile, Dushtabuddhi arranged for two of his servants to kill the
next man who approached the temple with a plate full of puja items.
At the time, Madan was in the royal palace assisting the king of Kuntala
and taking care of the affairs of the kingdom. The king wanted to consult
Chandrahasa on a certain matter so he asked Madan to bring him there
immediately.
Madan left the palace in a hurry to find Chandrahasa. When he found
him, Chandrahasa told him that he was going elsewhere.
Madan stopped him saying, ‘But you must go to the palace first!’
‘But your father’s asked me to visit the Mahamaya temple. He said that it
is very import—’
‘This is the king we are talking about! Don’t worry—I will take care of
the puja for you, but the king cannot wait. Here, give me the plate and off
you go to the palace,’ said Madan.
Reluctantly, Chandrahasa handed over the plate to Madan, trudged to the
palace and sat down with the king. The king, who had now met
Chandrahasa many times, was convinced that he was the right successor to
the throne. The king asked, ‘Chandrahasa, I would like you to marry my
daughter Champakamalini and take over the kingdom. I believe you would
make a fine ruler!’
Chandrahasa respected the king and wanted to honour his wish, so he
agreed.
‘I am old and sick and I don’t know how many minutes, hours or days I
have left. So you would be doing me a great kindness if you agree to marry
her right away.’
By then, Madan had reached the temple with the plate and was
immediately slaughtered by his father’s goons, who mistook him for
Chandrahasa.
Back in the palace, Chandrahasa married Champakamalini in a simple
ceremony.
 Hours later, the news reached Dushtabuddhi that Chandrahasa had
married the king’s daughter and was next in line for the throne while Madan
had been killed in the Mahamaya temple. The wicked minister realized that
he had been responsible for his own son’s death and decided that he
couldn’t live with what he had done. Heartbroken, he went to the
Mahamaya temple and killed himself.
When Chandrahasa learnt about the deaths of Madan and Dushtabuddhi,
he raced to the temple and prayed to the goddess to restore both their lives.
Seeing that his prayer wasn’t answered, he prepared to kill himself too. That
is when the goddess, recognizing his sincerity and piety, granted his wish
and restored all their lives.
For the first time, Dushtabuddhi felt ashamed of his evil deeds. He had
tried to get Chandrahasa murdered twice, and yet, the young man was the
one who begged the goddess for his life.
In time, Chandrahasa became the ruler of Kuntala and also took over his
father Kulinda’s kingdom. He was blessed with two sons. His strong and
just rule brought happiness to his subjects, who were devoted to their king.
One day, the two young princes went for a stroll in their capital and
happened to encounter the horse from the Pandavas’ Ashwamedha yagna.
They ran back to inform their father. Chandrahasa was happy to hear the
news and invited Arjuna and Krishna, who accompanied the horse, to be his
guests for some time. He also helped them with the conclusion of the yagna,
proving his loyalty to Krishna and the Pandavas.
It is said that Kuntala lies somewhere between today’s Kotepur and Banavasi in the state of
Karnataka, and that the Mahamaya temple is actually the Lakshmi temple in the town of
Kukunuru.
Even today, shaligrams are special stones found on the banks of the Gandaki river in Nepal.
These stones have natural designs on them and are known by different names such as
Sudarshan shaligram, Vishnu shaligram and Narasimha shaligram, based on the pattern on
each stone.
 Chandi and Uddalaka

Vrishaketu, Karna’s son, was accompanying the horse from Yudhishthira’s

Ashwamedha yagna when he found himself in Sage Saurabh’s ashram in
the Vindhya valley. The sage welcomed the troupe with open arms and they
all sat together in the veranda of the ashram, where there was a huge black
boulder.
Suddenly, the horse went near the rock and began rubbing its back
against it.
To everyone’s shock, the boulder gradually transformed into a lady.
The sage, observing the stunned expressions on the faces of his guests,
began telling them the story of Chandi.
‘Once upon a time, there lived a sage named Uddalaka. He had a wife
who was called Chandi (or the angry one) by everyone because of her
nature. She always did the opposite of whatever the sage told her. He was
unable to hold gatherings or invite anyone to their home without getting
into a huge argument with her. Time passed and he became tired of the lack
of peace in their home.
‘One day, Uddalaka met another sage—Kaundinya—and explained his
situation to him, barely able to contain his tears.
‘Sage Kaundinya consoled him saying, “You have to learn how to handle
things, Uddalaka. It is obvious that you have more patience than your wife.
So why don’t you try something new? Whenever you want something done,
tell your wife to do the opposite. You know her nature—she will certainly
act in a contradictory manner, which is exactly what you want. Then your
life will become much easier!”
‘Uddalaka liked the advice and headed home. By the time he reached, he
was famished.
‘He recalled Kaundinya’s advice and said to his wife, “Chandi, don’t
cook anything for me today. I will fast.”
 ‘Chandi made a delightful meal for him in an hour and brought it to him.
“Please eat, dear husband,” she said. “You must take care of your health.’”
‘Uddalaka was ecstatic at the turn of events but didn’t show it. “This is
wonderful,’” he thought. “Why didn’t I think of this earlier?”
‘The next morning, Uddalaka said to his wife, “Chandi, please don’t
clean the house. Let it stay dirty.”
‘By the time he came back from his morning walk, the house was neat
and tidy.
‘Armed with this new knowledge, Uddalaka lived happily for some time.
‘One day, he suddenly remembered that the day of his father’s shraddha
was approaching. So he told Chandi, “On the day of the shraddha, there’s
no need to cook or invite people for a meal. In fact, you don’t need to clean
the house either.”
‘Chandi nodded.
 ‘A few days later on the day of the shraddha, everything was ready—the
house was sparkling clean, a delicious feast had been prepared and people
had already been invited. Uddalaka performed the ritual with sincerity and
happiness in his heart.
‘At the end of the ritual, a rice bowl remained as an offering to his dead
father. Momentarily forgetting his new way of instructing Chandi, Uddalaka
told her, “Please go ahead and leave the bowl in the river.”
‘Chandi took the bowl and threw it in the trash. It was a great insult to
Uddalaka’s father.
‘Uddalaka’s fury knew no bounds. It was as if a bubble had burst in his
head. “Chandi, it is impossible for anyone to live with you. There has to be
a limit to the terrible things that you do. I curse you to transform into a big
boulder—a just punishment for somebody whose heart seems to be made of
stone,” he shouted.
‘Chandi felt sorry about what she had done and begged her husband to
forgive her.
‘It took some time for Uddalaka to calm down. Finally, he took pity on
his wife and said, “You will turn into stone, Chandi, like I have said. But
one day, a horse from an Ashwamedha yagna will come and touch you.
With Lord Krishna’s blessings, you will return to your original form.”
‘So Chandi transformed into a big boulder and Uddalaka left to meditate
in the forest.’
The story ended and Chandi stood there thinking about her past. She was
already a changed person. She now bowed down to the sage and said, ‘I
have realized the error of my ways. It is time for me to find my husband and
lead a better life.’
 The Last Journey

The Mahaprasthana, one of the eighteen books of the Mahabharata,

describes the last journey of the Pandavas and Draupadi.
After the Mahabharata war, the Pandavas ruled the kingdom peacefully
for a long time. One day, Sage Vyasa visited Indraprastha and advised the
Pandavas to retire and renounce their kingdom as it was their time to do so.
The Pandavas agreed and King Yudhishthira crowned their grandson
Parikshita the king of Hastinapur. He also appointed Yuyutsu, one of the
Kaurava brothers, as the caretaker of the kingdom.
Together, the Pandavas began the journey through the Himalayas and to
heaven.
While departing from the capital, a dog befriended them and
accompanied them on their journey. The Pandavas first headed south and
reached the Salt Sea.
There, they met Agni, who requested Arjuna to give him back the
powerful Gandiva bow. Agni explained, ‘The bow was bestowed on you so
you could fight against evil. Since the purpose has been served, the bow
must go back to where it came from.’
 Arjuna returned the bow and the Pandavas headed south-west, where
they saw the city of Dwarka submerged under water. From there, they went
to Rishikesh. On their way from Rishikesh to their next destination,
Draupadi fell down and met her end.
Bhima asked Yudhishthira, ‘Why did Draupadi die here? Why couldn’t
she continue her journey to heaven?’
‘Maybe she did not treat her five husbands equally. She could be biased
sometimes,’ replied his brother, aware that the journey of a soul to heaven
wasn’t an easy one.
The Pandavas continued their passage.
Soon, Sahadeva fell to his death. ‘Sahadeva suffered from pride and
vanity and thought that none was equal to him in wisdom,’ remarked
Yudhishthira.
When Nakula also died, Yudhishthira said, ‘Nakula always thought that
he was the most handsome in the world.’
Three brothers and the dog remained.
Arjuna also died without completing his journey. ‘Arjuna was convinced
that he was the most skilled and the most powerful warrior in the world. He
was too proud of his accomplishments,’ said Yudhishthira.
After some time, Bhima became really tired and fell down. ‘Why can’t I
complete my journey?’ he asked his brother.
‘You ate a lot for your satisfaction, without thinking of others,’ said
Yudhishthira kindly, before moving on alone with the dog.
After some time, Indra appeared in his chariot. ‘You don’t have to walk
any further, Yudhishthira. Hop into my chariot and I will take you to
heaven,’ he said.
‘I can’t go without my brothers and my wife,’ said Yudhishthira.
Indra smiled. ‘They are already waiting for you.’
Then Yudhishthira asked if his friend—the dog—could also come with
him.
‘Dogs can’t enter the chariot. Only you can.’
Yudhishthira refused. ‘The dog is my friend now and I can’t betray him.
It is a great sin.’
‘Abandon the dog for the sake of your happiness. Come, enter the
chariot,’ insisted Indra.
‘No, I can’t. He has been a true companion in one of the most difficult
journeys of my life. I saw my family dying one by one. This dog has stayed
with me all the way,’ said Yudhishthira firmly.
In an instant, the dog transformed into Dharma, the deity of justice.
Dharma praised Yudhishthira for his virtues, and the oldest of the Pandavas
finally entered the gates of heaven.
 The Serpent’s Revenge

Many years before the war, when Subhadra was pregnant, she had a
conversation with her husband, Arjuna, that would have long-term
consequences.
‘Subhadra, there are a number of vyuhas or techniques we can use to stop
the enemy from advancing or entering,’ said Arjuna, trying to explain the
many facets of warfare to Subhadra. ‘These vyuhas have different names
and various levels of difficulty.’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Subhadra.
‘Well, Garudavyuha is a formation in which the soldiers stand in line in
such a manner that it resembles the bird Garuda from a distance. There is
another one in which a king can be protected in such a way that he remains
at the centre of a circle while being surrounded by soldiers in a particular
formation. The toughest is the chakravyuha —a group of concentric circles
arranged in a manner that makes it almost impossible for an enemy to enter
it. Even if a skilled opponent somehow manages to make it through the first
circle, he would still find it difficult to go deeper because the formation is
like a maze. He will go from one circle to another and eventually lose his
sense of direction. Only a few can make it through the chakravyuha and cut
to the actual target. This vyuha requires smart thinking and practice.’
‘How many people in this world can survive the chakravyuha?’
‘The only people who know how to get in and out are my teacher Drona,
his son Ashwatthama, Grand-uncle Bhishma and me. Do you want to
learn?’ asked Arjuna.
‘Yes, Arjuna, please teach me,’ said Subhadra and lay down on the bed.
Enthusiastically, Arjuna took a handful of grains, instructed his wife to
assume that they were soldiers and created a design with concentric circles.
Then he explained the process by which a warrior could avoid the
unnecessary circles and determine the direct path to the target. When he
glanced at his wife a little later, he found that she was fast asleep, so he
stopped his explanation midway.
The matter was then completely forgotten.
After a few months, Subhadra gave birth to a baby boy who was named
Abhimanyu. When he reached adulthood, Abhimanyu was married to
Princess Uttara. During the time of the Mahabharata war, Princess Uttara
became pregnant.
While Arjuna was busy fighting a border battle, Drona used his
knowledge and created a chakravyuha.
When the young warrior Abhimanyu learnt of this development, he told
the other Pandavas, ‘I know how to get in. When I was in my mother’s
womb, I heard Father telling her how to enter the chakravyuha.
Unfortunately, she slept before Father could finish. So I don’t know how to
escape the formation. But I am happy to lead the way and with your help, I
am confident that we can find a way out.’
With Arjuna nowhere in sight, the other Pandavas agreed, and allowed
him to lead the way. To their misfortune, Abhimanyu was the only one who
managed to enter the chakravyuha. The Kauravas blocked the other
Pandavas from entering. Within minutes, Abhimanyu was surrounded by
the mighty Karna, Drona, Ashwatthama, Duryodhana and Dushasana,
among others, and brutally killed.
By the end of the eighteenth day, only five of Draupadi’s children had
survived.
But that night, while they were asleep, Ashwatthama—Drona’s son and
Duryodhana’s loyal friend—mistook them to be the Pandavas and killed
them in revenge for his father’s death. So the Pandavas were left with no
child to call their own except for the one yet to be born to Uttara. When she
finally gave birth, the body of the baby seemed lifeless.
The Pandavas panicked. Was this the end of their lineage?
They prayed to Lord Krishna fervently, who revived the infant. The
newborn was named Parikshita, because it seemed like the little child was
testing the dynasty’s continuance.
Parikshita was raised with a lot of care. Eventually, he became king and
ruled the land in a fair and just manner. He was well liked by his subjects.
One day, King Parikshita went hunting with his soldiers. He went far
ahead of his troupe and wandered into the ashram of Sage Shamik, who was
meditating and thus completely unaware of his surroundings. Nobody else
was present in the ashram at the time. Parikshita was thirsty and desperate
for water. He called out for someone to bring him some but there was no
response. Then he saw the sage sitting in silence with his eyes closed.
Parikshita also noticed a dead snake lying in the corner. Thirsty and
frustrated, the king assumed that the sage was only pretending to meditate
and, in a fit of anger, he picked up the dead snake with a wooden stick and
put it around the sage’s neck. Then he left the ashram.
After some time, Sage Shamik’s son Shringi came home to find his father
meditating with a dead serpent around his neck. He became really upset—
somebody had obviously tried to insult his pious father. He shouted out a
curse: ‘Whoever has garlanded my father with this dead serpent will die
within seven days of snakebite.’
By then, Sage Shamik had opened his eyes. When he learnt of the curse,
he said, ‘Shringi, you shouldn’t curse anyone without knowing the entire
story. You must hear both sides. When you lay a curse on someone, you
lose some of your power. We are here to help and make a better world.
Curses should only be used in exceptional cases.’
After making some enquiries around the area Sage Shamik found that it
was the benevolent King Parikshita who had visited his ashram. He
immediately sent some of his disciples to the royal palace to inform the
king about his impending death so that he could take care of his affairs.
Meanwhile, King Parikshita was already regretting what he had done. He
had dishonoured a sage, of all people!
When the disciples informed the king of the curse, he remained calm. He
handed over the kingdom to his ministers as his son Janamejaya was still a
young boy and decided to spend the remainder of his days by making
donations and listening to stories of his ancestors and Lord Vishnu. He
requested Sage Shuka, the son of Veda Vyasa, to chant the stories.
 Parikshita’s ministers struggled to find a way to save their king. Finally
they came up with a plan. The ministers got a tall pillar built overnight on
the banks of the river Ganga, upon which a small house was constructed for
Parikshita to stay. The house was surrounded by the best guards in the
kingdom, and were given strict instructions not to allow anyone or anything
inside.
Parikshita had already accepted the curse and knew that it would come
true. He was prepared for death. However, he gave in to his ministers’
earnest requests and stayed in the house they had built for him.
Meanwhile, Sage Shuka and the king sat together every day. Shuka’s
stories—also known today as the Bhagavata—lasted for a period of six
days.
On the seventh day, a well-meaning visitor sent the king a basket of
fruits. When the king cut one of the fruits open, he found a small worm
wriggling out of it. Within seconds, the worm morphed into a big poisonous
serpent and bit the king before he could take another step. Parikshita died
instantly. This serpent was Takshaka, the king of snakes, who had taken a
vow of revenge against the Pandavas for his family’s destruction in the
Khandava forest.
 The Cycle of Vengeance

There once lived a sage who had an unusual name—Jaratkaru. He was so

dedicated to his penance that he wanted to stay away from any sort of
emotional entanglement for his entire life.
One day, the sage had a vision, in which his ancestors said to him, ‘We
cannot rest in peace until you have a child. It is essential that you take our
lineage forward.’
Jaratkaru, however, was reluctant. ‘If that is the only reason why you
want me to marry, then I have a condition too. I will only marry a woman
with the same name as me,’ he said, certain that such a girl could never
exist.
Little did he know that this condition would be fulfilled some day.
For some reason, at that time, the number of snakes in the world was
growing steadily and rapidly. They had also become much bolder and were
killing human beings. Terrified for their lives, a large group of people
approached Sage Kashyapa, who assured them that he would find a
solution.
The sage meditated for a long time, and out of his meditation a daughter
was born, Manasa.
Manasa was very devoted to Shiva and Vishnu. She performed many
austere penances and over time, she also came to be known as Jaratkaru.
Vishnu, pleased with her sincerity, blessed her with a boon and gave her
twelve names—such as Nageshwari, Astik Mata and Visha Hara. One only
had to chant her twelve names to be safe from snakes!
One day, as Sage Jaratkaru was travelling through a forest, he met the
king of serpents, who was also one of the sons of Sage Kashyapa. The
serpent king Vasuki invited Jaratkaru home so he could rest for a while
before continuing on his journey. Jaratkaru agreed and accompanied Vasuki
to his home, where he met the serpent king’s sister, Jaratkaru.
 The sage knew then that he had to keep his promise to his ancestors and
explained the situation to Vasuki. Now Vasuki had already divined that his
sister’s child would be the saviour of their clan in the future, so he agreed to
the match. Thus Jaratkaru was married to Jaratkaru! And the two soon had a
child, whom they named Astik.
In Hastinapur, when King Parikshita died, his son, Janamejaya, was too
young to ascend the throne, so the kingdom was looked after by the
ministers until he came of age. Janamejaya was as popular as his ancestors
—the Pandavas.
One day, a sage named Vaishyampayana came to visit the king.
Janamejaya requested the sage to tell him all he knew about his father.
That’s when the sage disclosed the truth about how Parikshita had died.
Janamejaya was furious. He said, ‘I want to perform a sarpa yagna and
invite all the powerful sages in the kingdom and beyond. The yagna has to
be powerful enough for all the serpents in this world to be pulled towards
the fire. This will ensure that they are destroyed once and for all.’
The news of the yagna spread, and the terrified snakes moved as far away
from the yagna as they possibly could. However, once the yagna began,
they couldn’t resist its power and began falling into the burning fire in
hordes. A few of the remaining serpents gathered their strength and made
their way to the serpent lady Jaratkaru.
Jaratkaru and Jaratkaru sent their son Astik, who had grown up to be a
sage, to Janamejaya in the hope of persuading him to stop the yagna.
Astik went to the site of the yagna and joined the other sages. The
serpents were still falling into the fire. However, Janamejaya’s primary
target, Takshaka, remained at large. The king looked at the sages and asked
them to use their powers to find out where the serpent was.
Finally, Astik said to Janamejaya, ‘I know where he is.’
‘Then tell me.’
‘He is hiding in Indra’s home in heaven.’
Janamejaya became thoughtful. ‘Let us chant a mantra to invoke Indra,’
he said. ‘Takshaka will have no option but to come with him.’
As the other sages began chanting, the king turned to Astik and said, ‘O
sage, you have helped me find my sworn enemy. I promise to give you
whatever you want.’
 Astik only nodded.
Some hours later, Indra heard the chanting, and was drawn to the yagna.
He began descending to Earth with Takshaka in tow.
When Takshaka saw the large fire, he held on to his friend Indra with all
his might. But he was unable to stop his body from being pulled towards the
fire.
Just when he was about to let go of Indra and fall into the fire, Astik
shouted out to Janamejaya, ‘O mighty king, you told me that I could ask
you for anything. I want you to stop the yagna right now—that is my wish.’
The king stared at him. ‘Ask me for anything but that,’ he said.
‘No, I don’t want anything else,’ insisted Astik.
The king, being a man of his word, had no choice. The yagna was
stopped and Takshaka escaped death by mere seconds.
Astik now revealed his true self—he too was a serpent. He said, ‘O king,
I know that you are upset with what Takshaka did, but know that your
ancestors weren’t completely blameless either. Didn’t they kill all the
serpents of the Khandava forest when they let Agni burn it to ashes? That’s
why the serpents took their revenge on your father by sending Takshaka. If
you continue to kill, there will be yet another revenge waiting for you or
your descendants. I beseech you to stop this madness. Don’t kill all the
serpents in your quest for the one you want.’
Janamejaya was silent.
‘Any person who is born must die,’ continued Astik. ‘Your father would
have died anyway—it just so happened that he died in an act of revenge.
Learn from your ancestors—the great war of Mahabharata was nothing but
an act of vengeance. Wars kill men and leave behind their children as
orphans and women as widows. You have already killed more serpents than
you should have. Stop it now!’
The king realized the wisdom of Astik’s words and ended the dynasty’s
enmity with the Naga clan.
It is said that in some parts of India, people still say ‘Astik, Astik, Oath
on Astik’ to drive snakes away and to protect themselves when they cross
dark paths in the night.
 Glossary

Ashwamedh A type of ritual in which a king’s horse is allowed to wander

a yagna around for a year. Wherever the horse goes, the king of that
land has to either accept the sovereignty of the master of the
horse or challenge him. This ritual was conducted by many
kings. In fact it’s been performed as late as 1743. In India, if
you visit the Nagarjunakonda Island museum in Andhra
Pradesh, you can see the site of one such yagna. It was built
by the Ikshvaku dynasty around 1700 years ago.
arani A kind of firewood
gandharvas Heavenly beings
kamandalu A small water pot
Manasa From the mind
shakuntas Birds
shraddha A ritual performed for deceased ancestors
Vishnu A stone representing Lord Vishnu
shaligram
yagnapurus A being born out of a sacred fire
h
yaksha A type of benevolent spirit or being
 THE BEGINNING
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This collection published 2016

Copyright © Sudha Murty 2016
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Jacket images © Priyankar Gupta
ISBN: 978-0-143-42785-8
This digital edition published in 2016.
e-ISBN: 978-9-385-99017-5
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