Dharmaraja, seated in calm dignity, first questioned Sanjaya about the health and comfort of the aged Dhritarashtra and his sons. He then inquired about their children and households. From these courtesies, his thoughts moved outward to the greater duties of kingship. He asked whether the people of the kingdom lived in contentment, whether towns and villages prospered, whether the fields yielded abundance, and whether the waters remained pure. He wondered if piety grew alongside prosperity and whether Drona, Kripa, and Ashwatthama lived without want. He also asked if the grandsire Bhishma remained unharmed and whether the elders were honored with proper reverence. Further, he questioned whether Brahmins lived in dignity, whether gifts of land, grain, and cattle fulfilled their sacred purpose without being seized or diminished, and whether the realm suffered harm from hostile hands.
Beneath these questions lay deeper anxieties. Dharmaraja feared that faithful service might be forgotten, that the merit of the righteous could be stolen by the weak and cunning, and that honors due to the great might be diminished by envy. He worried that the deeds of Arjuna and Bhima were constantly undermined by the Kauravas, though the world had witnessed the valor of the Pandavas too often to forget it. Even the capture of Duryodhana by the Gandharvas could not fade from memory. With grave calm, he asked Sanjaya whether anyone who had faced Arjuna in battle had returned with honor intact, while remarking that Karna still ruled over trifles in Duryodhana’s chambers with loud pride.
Sanjaya replied with humility. He admitted that those halls were filled with strength mixed with arrogance and with many voices unwilling to listen to one another. He pleaded that such matters need not be stirred further and instead praised Dharmaraja, describing him as cool and pure as the moon and worthy of alliance. He assured him of safety from that moment onward and spoke of Dhritarashtra, who was weighed down by age and worry. The old king, he said, was unable to restrain his sons, yet he slowly sought peace. Sanjaya expressed hope that Dharmaraja’s virtue would eventually dissolve old wrongs, declaring that the world knew his true enemy had not yet been born.
Sanjaya further affirmed that gifts offered to Brahmins—born of Brahma’s sacred light—could never truly be stolen by evil intent. Those who grasped at such sins in pursuit of long life would surely fail. In moments of terror, he said, people took courage knowing that if Bhima, Arjuna, or the sons of Madri stood nearby, rescue would swiftly follow. Even in deep wrath, the Pandavas would not transgress righteousness. They were brave yet peace-loving, a truth commonly acknowledged by the people.
Having come as a messenger with words but no gifts—carrying, as it were, an empty casket wrapped in sweetness—Sanjaya then sought permission to speak in the royal assembly where Krishna sat apart in radiant stillness. Dharmaraja granted him leave and commanded him to deliver Dhritarashtra’s message without loss or concealment. He knew well that Sanjaya was free to shape his account for the advantage of the Kauravas.
At this, Sanjaya, trembling inwardly, gazed with devotion upon Krishna, with affection upon the Pandava brothers, with humility toward Drupada, and with respect toward Virata. Folding his hands, he spoke: Dhritarashtra, in a gentle mood, had sent him to urge wisdom over war. He reminded Dharmaraja of his fame for good governance and described Duryodhana as a stain upon a fair cloth—a stain that only Dharmaraja could cleanse. He asked what gain could come from the slaughter of elders, kin, teachers, and friends. Praising Krishna as a fortress of safety and Bhima and Arjuna as blazing towers of battle, he also named Satyaki, Virata, and Drupada as warriors of equal fire.
Yet Sanjaya also emphasized the strength of the Kaurava side. There stood Bhishma, Drona, Kripa, Ashwatthama, Karna, and Shalya, along with bold brothers and well-trained sons. Bahlika and Somadatta, he said, feared not even the gods. With such mighty forces assembled on both sides, he concluded, they should not meet in mutual destruction. He begged that anger be set aside and peace embraced, invoking the joy that Bhishma himself would feel in such concord.
Dharmaraja then answered with composed brilliance. He asked why the fear of war was laid upon him when he had spoken only of peace. What wise man, he asked, would reject peace if it could be secured without battle? War was no delight to him or his brothers. They sought only what served the people through righteous means. The unwise, driven by greed for crooked gain, rushed toward grief. War, he declared, was a house of sorrow that denied comfort to all. How, then, could such ruin please their uncle?
He reproached Dhritarashtra for straying from the path of justice while preaching fairness. The old king, he said, remained bound by the will of his sons. Wise counsel had been ignored, ill-won wealth stubbornly defended, and blind faith placed in Duryodhana’s strength. Such trust had bred dangerous delusion. Duryodhana, Dharmaraja said, would heed neither Krishna nor reason. He relied upon Karna to stand against Arjuna and sought dominion through destruction.
At last, Dharmaraja declared that greed for the kingdom was the true seed of war. To face the Pandavas in battle would be an invitation to death, for the blaze of Arjuna’s banner alone would blind their enemies. He rejected the partial praise that claimed the Kauravas were unconquerable. Through Sanjaya, he sent a firm truth to the blind king, unveiling the long-contained distress within his heart.
Sanjaya, stripped of choice and burdened with the weight of these words, bowed deeply and accepted the duty of carrying them back to Dhritarashtra.
