After Dharmaja’s departure with mighty Bhima and the others, the forests languished beneath the cruel blaze of the sun. Trees, scorched by fire and heat, shed their leaves as an offering to the parched earth—as if in compassion, they laid a golden carpet upon her bosom. Soon the heavens were moved to mercy, and the monsoon descended. Clouds, gathering in every direction, broke open and poured down streams of silver rain. The soil, mingled with red and black clay, flowed in rich colours, while mists and vapours veiled the hills in a twilight hue, making day appear like night. Amidst the darkness, flashes of lightning lent momentary vision to men, who gathered their needs by that heavenly torch. The sky rumbled with thunder, the earth echoed with the chorus of frogs rejoicing in the ponds, and the peacocks, seated upon trembling branches, screamed in rivalry to both frog and thunder. The mingled symphony of cloud, bird, and beast spread a mystic charm through the woods.
The air was filled with the hum of bees—gentle maidens of the forest—who swung upon garlands of fresh blossoms, singing in harmony with the whispering breeze, their unseen suitor. The perfume of the screw-pine mingled with that of other blooms, filling the woods and mountains with an intoxicating sweetness. From the moist earth sprang new grasses, mushrooms, and red-winged insects, tinting the land with a thousand delicate hues, until it seemed a heaven woven by nature’s own hand. When the rains withdrew, autumn approached with calm splendour, leaving the world renewed. The earth, adorned with the signs of the new season, shone like paradise itself. This was the time the sages adored the radiant swan—the season sacred to their worship.
Autumn advanced with the stately grace of a celestial swan bearing Brahma and Saraswati across the sky. Its nights were bright and tranquil; galaxies shimmered like scattered pearls, and cool light touched every corner of the earth. White lotuses bloomed under the moon, spreading their fragrance like sacred incense. The moon, surrounded by a choir of stars, floated in a haze of soft, camphor-like light that perfumed the night. When dawn came, it broke with splendour—the retreating clouds drifted gently away, and the tender rays of the sun spread peace over all beings. Lotuses opened like young swans upon the waters, while cranes, bees, and swans filled the air with melodious murmurs.
Wild elephants, their young frolicking in mirth, trampled the moist earth, splashing water upon themselves as though to mimic the clouds that once poured rain upon them. It seemed that the clouds, enamoured of the earth, had returned disguised as elephants. The cries of peacocks and jungle fowl echoed joyously, and their tails, spread in the sun, wove rainbows in the air. In the night sky rose the star of Agastya, the great sage who once drank the ocean dry. At his sight, the waters of ponds and lakes glimmered with a new brilliance, as if reflecting his luminous purity. The white blossoms of the cane and the bright waters of the lakes shone together like a field of stars.
In this radiant season, the Pandavas, refreshed in spirit, drank the pure waters of the Saraswati and sojourned in the kingdom of Maru. There the river’s waves bore the pollen of lotuses, and the banks glowed with fragrance. Sages worshipped upon the sandy dunes, their chants rising in harmony with the flowing stream, forming a vision of divine festivity that delighted the Pandavas. With Dhoumya and learned Brahmins, they reached Kamyakavana and performed their sacred rites.
One day, as Dharmaja sat amidst the scholars, a Brahmin friend of Arjuna entered and greeted him warmly: “O son of Dharma, your noble friend, the sinless and radiant Krishna, son of Devaki, is on his way to meet you. And the immortal sage Markandeya, born of the sage Mrukanda, who conquered time itself, also comes to bless you.”
Soon a divine chariot approached, drawn by celestial steeds—Saibhya, Sugriva, Meghapushpa, and Valahaka. Upon it stood Krishna and Satyabhama, resplendent as lightning amid clouds, like Indra with his queen Sachi. The gems adorning the chariot blazed with celestial fire; the wheels thundered like storm-clouds, and peacocks danced at their sound. Descending from the chariot, Krishna bowed to Dharmaja, embraced Bhima, Arjuna, Nakula, and Sahadeva, and saluted Draupadi. Dhoumya and the Brahmins were duly honoured, and all sat reverently as Krishna took his place beside Arjuna.
After long greetings, Krishna spoke with gentle admiration: “O Yudhishthira, the divine weapons gained by Arjuna through the grace of the gods are your true wealth, the fruit of your righteousness. You who value virtue above kingdom, who know the Vedas and their spirit, who have performed sacrifices and mastered the art of governance—your glory shines in both worlds. Your self-restraint, truthfulness, and contentment are your fortress. Greed finds no dwelling in you; hence you are famed among the three worlds.
“When in the hall of the blind king, Duryodhana robbed you of your wealth under the deceit of dice, you alone bore that outrage with divine forbearance. Your forgiveness is your crown, your patience you might. A spark of your anger would have consumed the Kauravas; yet you restrained your brothers, mighty as oceans, whose waves you alone can command. When the hour comes, their strength shall overwhelm the world like Time himself. Many noble houses—Andhakas, Vrishnis, Bhojas—stand ready to serve your cause. Once resolved, nothing is beyond your reach. You are the sovereign destined to rule the land encircled by the four seas.”
Hearing these words, Dharmaja bowed and replied, “O Govinda, as my vow ordains, our forest exile is nearing its end. One final year of concealment remains. Thereafter we shall act as befits our honour, and none may blame us. The task of destiny rests with you, our eternal refuge. Victory shall be ours under your guidance.”
Krishna then turned to Draupadi and spoke with tender affection: “Your sons dwell happily among the Yadavas, learning the arts of war and royal conduct—elephant-riding, archery, and swordplay. Pradyumna has imparted to them divine weapons, and Subhadra cherishes them as her own. Be consoled, noble lady, for the time of your glory approaches.”
Even as he spoke, the venerable sage Markandeya arrived, radiant with the lustre of countless penances. Krishna and the Pandavas received him with sacred hymns and honoured him with reverence. Then Krishna said, “O illustrious sage, whose words are pure as nectar, we yearn to hear your discourse. Bless us with tales of gods, kings, seers, and chaste women whose fame shines like the stars.”
Thus began the discourse of Markandeya, a garland of wisdom strung with jewels of virtue and brilliance—an elixir for the minds of heroes and saints alike.
