After Arjuna sought leave to undertake the year-long pilgrimage of expiation, Yudhishthira spoke with calm discernment: “Arjuna, the act of restraining evil—even if stern or severe—when it shields the Brahmins and the sacred Kine, brings no taint of sin. When two virtues seem to stand opposed, wise men know that the higher law allows an exception. To rid the land of thieves who endanger society is an act praised in the Vedas, the merit of which equals the sacrifice of the horse. But if such villains are tolerated, the ruler bears the heavier guilt of fratricide. The good you have done to the forest sages would be lost if you now falter in the duty laid upon us.”
Arjuna bowed and answered, “Yet, O king, though our conscience be clear, the world’s censure is hard to silence. From hidden corners whispers will arise that the sons of Pandu have broken their vow and seek a pretext to mask their fault. Let us be beyond reproach, faithful to the inviolable code. Grant me leave to wander on pilgrimage.” With the blessings of the elders he set forth, attended by learned priests, reciters of ancient lore, and wise companions. The son of the lunar race bathed in the holy Ganga, offered rites to the Sun and to his forefathers, and each day performed his sacred oblations.
One dawn, as he stepped from his camp before the light had kindled the horizon, a shining figure, swift of eye and radiant of form, seized his hand and drew him down to her hidden realm. When his rites were complete, he gently questioned her: “Lady of beauty, who art thou that hast borne me hither? What is this affection that seems to enchant my heart?” She bowed and said, “I am Uluchi of the serpent race, daughter of Kauravya, sprung from the line of mighty Airavata. Long have I heard the tales of your valour, and love for you has seized my soul. Destiny has bound me to be your wife. Take me to your heart.”
Arjuna replied, “Fair one, my brother has enjoined upon me a vow of holy wandering. I journey in the company of sages and keep the rule of chastity; I may not break my discipline.” With head bent she answered, “I know of your steadfast devotion to Draupadi and of the vow you now observe, yet my life hangs upon your grace. Deny me and I perish. To save a life is to win the highest merit—grant me this boon.” Moved by her humility and the purity of her plea, Arjuna consented. Their union was blessed, and Ulupi, gifted with powers beyond mortal ken, at once bore a son, Iravan.
When the next day dawned, Arjuna told the sages all that had passed; they praised his compassion and gave their benediction. Thereafter, he journeyed on, visiting the hermitage of Agastya, the sacred heights of Bhrigutunga, and the shining shrine of Hiranyabindu, where he bestowed alms and performed solemn rites. Eastward he travelled, worshipping Jagannatha at Naimisharanya, and passing through the groves of Utpalini, Nanda, Aparananda, Gaya, and the confluence where the Ganga meets the ocean. Among the fragrant cardamom thickets and along the bright sea-dunes, he moved until he entered the realm of Kalinga and the lands of Uttara Kuru, still keeping to the eastern coast and offering worship to Jagannatha.
He came next to the Godavari, the southern Ganga, and to Bheemeswara, the natural abode of Shiva at Srisaila. Through the Vengi country he passed to the southern sea and along the banks of the Kaveri, everywhere giving gifts and charities. In the thirteenth month he reached Manipura, where the princess Chitrangada, daughter of King Chitravahana, beheld him and desired him for her lord. The king, rejoicing in the noble lineage of the Pandava, said, “A single son is born in each generation of our house, for Shiva so ordained when He blessed our forebear Prabhakara. My daughter must bear the heir who continues our line. If you will consent that her child remains here as king, I give her gladly.” Arjuna agreed, and wedded Chitrangada, and their life together was filled with gentle joy.
One day he journeyed to the holy Soubhadra Tirtha upon the southern shore. As he made ready to bathe, the hermits cried, “Son of the Moon’s race, venture not! These five sacred ponds—Soubhadra, Souloma, Karandhama, Prasanna, and Bharadwaja—are haunted by monstrous crocodiles, and for a hundred years no man has dared to enter.” Arjuna smiled and said, “I have bathed in every holy stream; shall I shrink from these for fear?” He stepped into the water and was seized by a mighty crocodile which, lifting him, flung him upon the bank—and in that instant became a woman of celestial beauty.
She spoke: “I am Vanda, a friend of Kubera. My companions—Sourabheyi, Sameechi, Budbudha, and Latha—dwell yet in these waters. Deliver them also, O hero.” At his bidding, the other crocodiles came forth, and when he had drawn them from the ponds, they too took the shapes of radiant women. Vanda told their tale: “We once roamed the worlds in sportive freedom and came to the hermitage of a sage. In levity we sang and scattered garlands to disturb his penance. Angered, he cursed us to the form of crocodiles. When we begged for mercy, he declared that when a hero strong enough to cast us from the waters came, the curse would end. Narada met us later and foretold that you, Arjuna’s son of Indra, would be our deliverer. For a hundred years, we have waited for this hour.”
Thus released, the five celestial maidens blessed the Pandavas and ascended to their heavenly realms, and the waters of those ponds have since been known as Nari Kshetra, the Holy Pools of Women.
Arjuna returned to Manipura and dwelt again in quiet happiness with Chitrangada, and in time she bore him a son, Babruvahana, whom Arjuna consecrated as heir to his mother’s throne. Then, his vows fulfilled and his heart yearning for his dearest friend, he turned his steps toward Dwaravati, that he might behold Krishna and, in the sight of his beloved companion, wash away the last shadow of sin. Thus did his pilgrimage draw toward its destined close, opening the final gates of reverent wonder on the path of the Pandavas.
