The sun blazed with pitiless fury, scattering sparks like molten fire upon the earth. Rivers shrank into threadlike streams, their beds cracked and dry; beasts, tormented by the relentless heat, ran wild in search of shade or water; and birds, faint with thirst, fell from the sky like withered leaves. All lesser lives seemed doomed to perish. Arjuna, oppressed by the burning season, turned to Śrī Krishna and said, “Friend, let us leave this searing plain. In the cool recesses of the mountains and the shadowed forests, let us wander, hunting for sport and delighting in the ponds of the Yamuna, where lotuses bloom and the air is rich with the fragrance of flowers and fruit. We will rest in the pavilions built upon her high banks, where the breeze from the river brings a gentle, cooling balm.”
Having taken his elder brother’s blessing, Arjuna set forth with Krishna, and ministers and soldiers accompanied them on their voyage into a world of tumult and adventure. One evening, they sat upon a terrace wreathed in sandalwood creepers, the night air soft and fragrant, the hour serene. There approached a Brahmin, frail of form yet glowing with a strange vitality and an air of transcendence. He bowed and said, “I eat without limit; my hunger knows no measure. If you are gracious, give me food enough to satisfy me.”
Krishna and Arjuna replied, “Ask what you will; whatever food you desire, we shall provide.” The Brahmin smiled and spoke: “I am Agni, the Fire-God. The forest of Khandvi is my proper food. Yet Indra, its protector, has thwarted me whenever I sought to consume it. There dwells within the wood the serpent-king Takṣaka, dear to Indra’s heart; therefore, Indra guards the forest as though it were the nectar of immortality. Its life is vibrant, but I must devour it to appease the torment that burns within me. You, who are mighty and skilled in every celestial weapon, can overcome the obstacles raised by the Lord of Heaven. Aid me, and I shall be satisfied.”
Janamejaya, hearing this tale, turned to the sage Vaisampayana and asked, “Why, O sage, did the god of Fire desire to burn a forest beloved of Indra? Tell me the cause of this strange hunger.” And Vaisampayana began:
“In ancient days, there lived the renowned king-sage Śvetaki. Year after year he performed grand sacrifices, pouring forth pure ghee without end. He gave lavish gifts to the Brahmins and sought to undertake a Sattrayāga lasting a hundred years. But the priests, wearied, said, ‘We cannot endure such ceaseless rites; our bodies faint beneath the burden. Only Śiva himself could serve as your chief priest, for no mortal can sustain such toil.’
Śvetaki therefore ascended to Kailāsa and performed a stern and single-minded penance. At last, Chandrasekhara appeared and said, ‘O Śvetaki, your austerity pleases me. Speak your wish.’ The king replied, ‘By your grace, let me complete a Sattrayāga of a hundred years, and be yourself the presiding priest.’ Śiva answered, ‘Sacrifice must be conducted by Brahmins as Brahma has ordained; none other may be the officiant. But keep a twelve-year vow of chastity, and then perform your rite, pouring ghee without stint to satisfy Agni.’
Śvetaki obeyed the Lord’s command, and with sages led by the fiery Durvāsas, he brought the mighty sacrifice to completion. But Agni, fed without pause by streams of clarified butter, grew afflicted. His own brilliance waned; his hunger turned into a burning sickness. Seeking release, he approached Brahmā.
‘This torment,’ said the Grand-sire, ‘is born of the endless flood of ghee. Only one remedy can cool and cleanse you: devour the celestial forest of Khāṇḍava, where healing herbs, potent beasts, and plants of every virtue.’
Agni hastened to that forest and kindled his flame, but Indra rained downpours like the charge of a thousand heavenly elephants, quenching the fire. Seven times Agni tried, and seven times the thunder defeated him. He returned to Brahma in despair.
The Creator said, ‘Be patient. When the primeval sages Nara and Narayana are born on earth as Krishna and Arjuna, they will wander near Khāṇḍava. Pray to them; through the might of their arms and the flight of their arrows they will shield your fire and scatter Indra’s rains.’
Thus, Agni waited long and, when Krishna and Arjuna came, he bowed to them and told his need. Arjuna replied, ‘O immortal Flame, we are ready to aid you and can withstand even the gathered hosts of heaven. But I lack a bow equal to the swiftness of my shafts, and we have no chariot fit to bear the weight of divine weapons. Krishna, too, has come unarmed. Without such aid, we cannot face the Lord of the Gods.’
Then Agni invoked Varuna, who stood nearby, and said, ‘Grant them the arms fashioned by the immortals.’ Varuna brought forth the peerless bow Gandiva, wrought by Brahma and once borne by Soma when he conquered the quarters of the world; a bow no Gandharva, Yaksha or Kinnara could master. He also gave inexhaustible quivers, a chariot of celestial make drawn by white steeds swift as the wind and flying a banner marked with the sign of a mighty monkey; and for Krishna, he brought the Sudarśana chakra, whirling and irresistible, and the mace Kaumudi that never returns without striking its mark.
“Warriors,” said Agni, “this bow is Gandiva, whose arrows, when loosed with mantra, fall like meteors. The chariot is beyond all limitation; the steeds race like the tempest. This discus, O Krishna, will slay your foes and return unsullied to your hand.”
Krishna and Arjuna rejoiced. “Though the hosts of heaven should descend,” they declared, “we shall not be overcome. Begin, O Fire-lord, and consume the Khāṇḍava forest.”
Thus began the mighty deed that would win Arjuna yet another crown of glory—a deed that set him, by the call of duty, against the will of Indra himself, his own celestial sire, in a contest of word and of act more perilous than any battle of men.
