Krishna, the one whose face bore the calm grace of a newly opened lotus, smiled at the unusual gentleness upon the countenance of Bhimasena, whose speech was usually like a blazing fireball. With playful wonder, Krishna remarked that Vrikodara—whose words once scorched like flame and whose presence was like an unmoving mountain—now appeared softened, as though the fire had cooled and the mountain grown light. This change stirred concern in Krishna, for the mighty son of Vayu was known for towering self-respect, fierce intolerance of deceitful enemies, and an unbending spirit that scorned hollow threats and borrowed strength.
Bheema had no desire to harm his cousins and sought instead a fragile balance of peace. Yet Krishna knew that if such restraint deepened excessively, his immense power might remain suspended, and such restraint itself could become perilous to the Pandavas. With mild surprise, Krishna resolved to test the depth of this altered mood. He gently provoked him, recalling his past fury in battle, his terror to enemies, and the hope his brothers placed in him to reclaim their kingdom. With a touch of laughter, he asked what new fear had entered the fearless heart.
Bheema smiled and replied that valor required no introduction to him. Dharmaraja himself had declared their rightful share sufficient, and the coming conflict would remind Krishna of these words through Duryodhana’s suffering. He affirmed that he had neither lost his temper nor learned fear; he merely followed his elder brother’s wish for peace. Yet within him burned an unextinguished vow—to crush Duryodhana and shatter his thighs upon the battlefield, thus fulfilling his oath.
Krishna then declared that Bheema was gentle where alliance prevailed, but the very lord of death to the Kauravas where it failed. Bheema responded with fierce affection, telling his dear brother-in-law that even if heaven and earth stood guard over his enemy, he would thrust them aside to reach him.
Krishna laughed and revealed that his words had been spoken in jest, meant only to stir the spirit of a warrior of unmatched might. He reminded Bheema of his hands that had felled many fearsome foes, whose destruction still lived vividly in memory. He spoke of guiding Phalguna’s chariot in war, of the immense value of Bheema’s strength, and of the glory and wealth that could be won only through battle. He promised that when Bheema and Arjuna struck down their enemies, he himself would move like a winged mountain above their shattered ranks.
Bheema, in reply, painted a vivid vision of the battlefield: elephants struck down, horses drifting in rivers of blood, and chariots reduced to formless ruin beneath his mace. He spoke of an energy within him that would never wane, delivering grim release to countless warriors in the fury of war.
Krishna affirmed that Bheema would accomplish even more than he had proclaimed, calling him a jewel among warriors endowed with noble qualities. He then declared his intention to proceed to the Kuru assembly at Hastinapura to seek peace and alliance. Yet he made it clear that if peace were denied, the fate of their cause would rest firmly in Bheema’s hands.
Then Arjuna spoke, saying that the son of Dharma had already revealed his mind, and little more remained to be said. Yet he expressed his firm conviction that the blind king Dhritarashtra’s attachment and his son’s cruelty would never allow a just division of the kingdom. He confessed that his bow and divine arrows lay restless, awaiting the call of battle.
With reverent insight, Arjuna reflected that human effort and divine grace must move together, for results blossom only when both are aligned—though all ultimately unfolds by Krishna’s cosmic will. He recalled the injustices they had endured—deceitful defeat, public humiliation, and long exile borne with restraint—and asserted that mercy toward the wicked was no virtue. He emphasized that Krishna’s guidance alone could restore justice.
Yet, with subtle humor and wisdom, Arjuna urged that every effort toward peace must still be made, for such striving itself was the code of kings. He entreated Krishna to persuade the stubborn Duryodhana to grant their rightful share, promising harmony if peace prevailed, and seeking clear direction if war became inevitable.
Krishna replied with calm wisdom, declaring that even a farmer’s labor fails without rain, and that effort bears fruit only through divine grace. He vowed to employ all his skill in seeking peace, though the final outcome remained hidden within fate. He observed that such cruelty would never have arisen had justice been willingly granted.
Thus their profound discourse unfolded, weaving together resolve, duty, and destiny as Krishna prepared to depart on his sacred mission to Hastinapura.
