The tale, as narrated by Ugrasrava to the sage Sounaka and his company, moved from the fall of Bakasura to the quiet life of the Pandavas, dwelling in disguise as Brahmins within the house of a learned scholar at Ekachakrapura. In those days, a wandering traveller, fatigued from his journey, sought shelter with them, and Kunti, with her sons, received him with reverence. Bowing to him with courtesy, she enquired, “O venerable one, whence do you come, and what kingdoms have you beheld? Which rulers uphold virtue, and which lands shine with grace?”
The traveller replied with delight that he had passed through many realms and witnessed kings whose conduct itself was the true wealth of their dominion. Yet none shone with the splendour of Drupada’s kingdom, a land incomparable, adorned with the noble daughter Draupadi—born not of mortal womb, but from the holy fire itself, radiant, generous, and gifted. The king, he said, sought a worthy consort for her, and failing in his search, resolved upon a swayamvara.
Astonished, Kunti and Yudhishthira asked how it came to pass that Drupada had a daughter of such celestial birth. Then the tale of old was unfolded. Dronacharya, born of the sacred urn of Bharadwaja, once shared with Drupada the teachings of the Vedas and the lore of Dhanurveda under sage Agnivesa. Drupada rose to the throne of Panchala, yet when fortune made Drona preceptor of the Kuru princes, he demanded of them a tribute: to seize Drupada. In battle Arjuna captured the king and delivered him bound to his master. Drona, scorning him, mocked his weakness and then released him. The sting of that insult sank deep into Drupada’s veins, and he resolved upon vengeance greater than life itself.
He sought the aid of holy men versed in sacrifice, and at last approached the sage Upayaja by the banks of the Ganga. With folded hands he pleaded for a son strong enough to slay Drona, and a daughter fit to wed Arjuna. But Upayaja refused, saying he would not perform rites for reward. Yet Drupada served him faithfully for a year, until the sage, moved by such humility, directed him to his brother Yaja, a strict votary of Vedic law. Before Yaja too Drupada bowed, confessing his grief: “Drona has wronged me; grant me by sacrifice a son to conquer him.”
Yaja consented and, with his brother’s aid, performed a mighty yajna. From the flames there rose first a son, radiant, strong, and resolute—Drishtadyumna—destined to master arms and fulfill his father’s oath. Thereafter appeared a maiden of lotus eyes, fragrant and resplendent as a goddess—Krishnaa, Draupadi by name. A voice from heaven proclaimed their destiny to all who stood near. Thus, were born by fire the children of Drupada, fruits of sacrifice and devotion.
Yet grief shadowed the king, for he believed the Pandavas were consumed in the house of lac. “How,” thought he, “shall this daughter, born for a hero, be given to an unworthy prince, if the noblest are no more?” But the purohita assured him, “The Pandavas live. Signs auspicious proclaim their safety. As once Brhaspati comforted Sachi, bereft of Indra, saying he would return unharmed, so too do I affirm with the certainty of scripture: those sons of Dharma yet walk this earth.” The king’s heart, thus eased, turned wholly toward the swayamvara.
Orders were given: the day fixed, the conditions declared. In the midst of his court, a bow of immense weight was placed, a weapon beyond mortal strength. Whoever could string it and pierce with an arrow the swiftly moving target fashioned like a fish above the waters, that prince alone would win Draupadi’s hand.
Thus, the traveller concluded, recounting all that he had witnessed. The Pandavas, listening, understood destiny’s summons. Kunti said, “The people of Panchala are noble and hospitable, revering Brahmins with honour. Let us journey thither in humble guise, and await the path that fate unfolds.” With gratitude, they relinquished their dwelling at Ekachakra Ura and set forth—not to seek mere shelter, but to embrace prosperity; not to depend, but to protect; not to be acknowledged, but to excel; not for themselves alone, but for the kingdom that destiny had placed in their keeping.
