Drustadyumna turned to the moon-faced Draupadī and said in a low, exultant voice: “Princes without number have come to this great Swayamvara. From Hastināpura are Duryodhana and his brother Duḥśāsana, the sons of Dhṛtarāṣṭra; with them stand Karṇa, Aśvatthāmā, Somadatta, Śalya and Virata. Here also are Akrūra, Śaraṇa, and the valiant Sātyaki, chiefs of the Yādus, Vṛṣṇis, and Bhojas, and leaders of many kindred houses—Sumitra and Sukumāra among them. Brahmin sages, too, are present, their faces beaming as Vedic hymns rise like incense to the heavens. O fair-browed princess, when the mighty bow sends its arrow through the whirling target of the fish, him who achieves it thou shalt receive with fond and gracious welcome.”
At that proclamation, the assembled princes pressed forward, each eager to prove his worth, more drawn by desire than assured of skill. The celestials themselves—gods, Garuḍas, Gandharvas, and Kinneras—thronged the sky in glittering flights, while drums, vīṇās, and flutes filled the air with a sweetness like honey poured upon the breeze. The mingled music rolled in waves, as though the ocean sent its own deep murmur across the earth.
Through the dust of the Brahmin enclosure, the five sons of Pāṇḍu shone like hidden fire. Kṛṣṇa, perceiving them, smiled to himself, thinking: “It is Arjuna who shall win her.” One by one the proud princes, dazzled by Draupadī’s beauty, tried the bow and failed. Murmuring arose: “This weapon is of magic—none can even bend it. How then can one fix an arrow and strike the moving fish? Not even the gods themselves might succeed.” Many, unwilling to display their weakness, quietly withdrew. On Kṛṣṇa’s own counsel, the Yādus, Vṛṣṇis, Andhakas and Bhojas refrained from contest. Śiśupāla, Jarāsandha, Śalya, and even Karṇa displayed their power and pride—yet failed, and sought the path of exit.
Then Arjuna, with Yudhiṣṭhira’s leave, stepped forth. The Brahmins whispered among themselves in wonder: “The mighty-shouldered princes could not bend the bow, yet this quiet youth dares the feat. Is he not over-bold? Or else more skilled than they? See his sinews—like iron molded by the gods; his bearing is pure, his reverence for elders marks the true Brahmin. May his noble aim be crowned; our blessings attend him.”
Arjuna saluted his teachers in silent prayer, took the bow as though it were his daily weapon, and with effortless grace bent, strung and raised it. In one swift motion, he set the arrow and pierced the revolving fish in the sky. A murmur of awe spread through kings and sages alike. “This,” they cried, “is no common man. Perhaps Indra himself, or Sūrya, or the war-God Kārttikeya has come in Brahmin guise.” Celestial drums thundered; the Brahmins waved their upper garments in salute; flowers rained from the heavens.
Yudhiṣṭhira, Nakula, and Sahadeva quietly withdrew to their dwelling, while King Drupada, with Drustadyumna and his retinue, hastened to honour the victor. Draupadī, garland in hand, approached the youthful hero and crowned him with fresh white blossoms. The defeated princes, stung with envy, cried out to Drupada: “Why summon us, why honour us as kinsmen, only to give thy daughter to a Brahmin? When warriors famed in every land stand here, thou hast bestowed her on one of the priestly orders. Thou art a black-legged king; let us chastise thy pride!”
Even as they spoke, weapons flashed. Duryodhana sprang at Arjuna; Śalya rushed upon Bhīma. The Brahmins and the celestials watched in startled silence. Arjuna met Karṇa in a duel of arrows whose shock made the earth tremble. At length Karṇa, breathing hard, said: “To master me is possible only for Paraśurāma, for mighty Indra, or for the son of Kuntī—Arjuna himself. O noble Brahmin, you bear a power beyond mortal measure; I honour your courage and skill.”
Arjuna answered with quiet fire: “I am none of those you name. Yet in the lore of weapons, I excel, and the radiance of Brahma burns within me. Cease thy vaunting and stand thy ground.” Karna, sensing the unearthly brilliance that wrapped his foe, knew further contest vain and turned away. Bhīma, in turn, overthrew Śalya and flung him aside; the prince rose, abashed, and departed without a word, while the Brahmins applauded Bhīma’s strength.
Duryodhana spoke grimly to his companions: “None can subdue Karṇa save Paraśurāma or Arjuna; none can match Śalya but Bhīma or Balarāma. We must discover where these heroes dwell.” But Kṛṣṇa counselled them: “This Brahmin who has won Draupadī has achieved the impossible. Seek not to measure him; be content.”
So, the princes withdrew in sullen silence. Bhīma and Arjuna, Draupadi beside them and the Brahmins rejoicing around, turned towards their dwelling. Thus was the song of destiny revealed: though the bride’s family found its hopes fulfilled, the true lineage of the victors remained veiled, for the world knew not yet that the sons of Pandu had claimed the prize.
