Arjuna, the foremost among warriors, spoke gently to Prince Uttara, whose mind was shaken by the sight of the sacred Gandeeva and the splendour of the weapons hanging upon the mighty tree. He began to reveal the lineage of symbols borne upon the bows of the Pandavas, for each hero had adorned his weapon with the mark of his own nature.
The bow graced with the sign of the bull belonged to Dharmaraja, for he embodied righteousness itself; the long bow carved with the figure of a monkey was Bheemasena’s, vast in form like a palm tree and suited to one who in wrath could tear trees from the earth, and who, like Anjaneya, was born of the wind-God. The gleaming bow enriched with golden fish belonged to swift-footed Nakula, whose movements were quick and subtle, as though guided by the very force that preserves fortune.
The bow adorned with peacocks belonged to gentle Sahadeva, whose grace and beauty were mirrored in that noble bird. And Gandeeva, the holy bow blooming with lotus-motifs—the emblem of purity, abundance and divine joy—was matched to Arjuna’s soul, for he was the disciple of Krishna, beloved of the powers that sustain the worlds. Thus did each brother choose a symbol that answered to the truth of his heart.
Arjuna then directed the prince’s gaze toward Bheema’s colossal mace that shone like a pillar of radiance, and he explained the nature of the Pandavas’ quivers, shields, swords, armour and weapons of every kind; yet Uttara’s bewildered mind could not grasp that only Arjuna could speak so with such authority. In simple trust he turned to the one he still believed to be Brihannala and asked where the Pandavas had gone, lamenting their trials, remembering that he was kin to them, and grieving that the great queen Draupadi, lamp of royal women, had endured suffering at the hands of the wicked.
He bewailed the exile of the Pandavas, their loss of kingdom, and the silence that veiled their fate. Arjuna, perceiving the childlike innocence of the prince, consoled him and said that the heroes had completed their years of wandering and concealment and now dwelt secretly within the very city they protected. He named their assumed identities—Dharmaraja as Kankubhattu, Bheema as Valala, Nakula as the keeper of steeds, Sahadeva as the guardian of cattle, and Draupadi known as Malini—and told of the punishment Bheema had delivered in disguise to the foes who dishonoured her.
When Arjuna gently revealed these truths, Uttara gazed at him in awe and asked for proof. Then Arjuna smiled and spoke the names by which the world knew him: Phalguna, Kiriti, Swetavahana, Partha, Bhibatsa, Jishnu, Savyasachi, Dhananjaya and more. Uttara, freed of doubt, requested the tale of each name, and Arjuna obliged, telling how he became Dhananjaya by conquering the kings of earth, Vijaya for being unconquerable in war, Swetavahana for guiding white-maned steeds, and Kiriti for the resplendent crown bestowed by the lord of the heavens.
Bhibatsa for never shrinking from dreadful battle, Savyasachi for drawing a bow with either hand, Arjuna for his radiant fairness, Phalguna for the star beneath which he was born, Jishnu for the unstoppable fury that rose when Dharmaraja was harmed, and Partha for being the son of Pritha. He told how, with Krishna beside him, he protected the burning of the vast Khandava forest, earned the favour of the gods, received Astras of every kind, defeated the Nivata-kavachas in their hidden realm, and scattered the demon-armies of Hiranyapura. He recalled how he released Duryodhana from the captivity of the Gandharvas and vowed to humble the Kaurava host even in the presence of their mightiest: Karna, Bhishma, Drona, Kripa, Ashwatthama, and Duryodhana himself. Hearing this, Uttara descended from the tree, prostrated before Arjuna, and begged forgiveness for his earlier ignorance, his heart overflowing with joy at beholding the one whose very presence felt like the blessing of wealth.
Arjuna embraced him with moist eyes and assured him of unbroken protection, bidding him mount the chariot and take the reins. When Uttara humbly asked how Arjuna had taken his unusual guise, Arjuna revealed the vow of celibacy commanded by Dharmaraja and the curse of Urvashi that had shaped his form for the year of concealment, now fulfilled and ended. Strengthened by Arjuna’s affection, the prince declared he feared neither gods nor demons so long as Arjuna guarded him.
Arjuna then gathered Gandeeva, his armour, sword, and quivers, and instructed Uttara to cherish the remaining weapons until the Pandavas reclaimed them. As he donned his celestial earrings, arranged his hair in regal fashion, and mounted the chariot shining like a rising sun, he strung Gandeeva; its thunderous note sent birds and beasts fleeing, trees trembling, and disorder spreading among the Kaurava ranks.
Praying to sacred fire, he raised the banner bearing Hanuman’s emblem and took up the divine conch Devadatta. Teaching the prince the ways of guiding the steeds, he ordered him to circle the tree and hasten after the distant cattle. When he sounded Devadatta, the heavens and earth shook as if struck by unending thunder; seas roared, mountains quivered, the firmament spun, even the abode of the gods stirred, and Uttara fainted from terror. Arjuna restored him with a gentle touch and urged him to regain courage, saying such sounds were the daily breath of great armies.
Yet when the conch blazed again, the guru Drona, listening from afar, spoke gravely to Duryodhana, recognising the voice of Gandeeva, the roar of Devadatta, the banner of the great vanara, and the brilliance of Indra’s crown. He knew his dearest pupil had come, and though he veiled his words, the signs announced that the mere arrival of Arjuna was enough to shake the heart of the Kuru host. Thus began the first shimmering line in the grand turning of the world’s destiny.
