The Pāśupatha in Arjuna’s hands shone like the blazing sun itself, its mere radiance shaking the worlds and striking terror into Dāityas, Dānavas, Yakṣas, and even the celestial beings, who trembled knowing the boundless power it contained. For a moment, the earth quivered in her oceans and mountains, as if acknowledging the force now entrusted to the son of Dharma. Arjuna’s form, sanctified by the touch of Lord Śiva, glowed like a living flame. Freed from sin and magnified in strength manyfold, he rejoiced, for his deepest aspiration had been fulfilled—his life’s significance consummated by the grace of the Three-Eyed Lord, the slayer of demons, sustainer of the worlds, source of strength to the gods and terror to the unjust. “This,” he felt, “shall remain my highest merit, remembered in history forever.” In that moment, Arjuna knew with unshakable certainty that the son of Dharma would conquer his enemies and rule the earth, and his heart overflowed with calm contentment.
The news of Arjuna’s boon from Śiva reached the gods—Indra, Kubera, Yama, Varuṇa, the Aśvins—and they descended to him. Yama, though his voice rumbled like thunder, spoke sweetly, “Ever abide by righteousness, O son of Pāṇḍu. In appreciation, your well-wishers, Indra and the others, have come to behold you. Look upon them!” And granting Arjuna divine vision, Yama revealed his own true self. “You are Nara, the sage of ancient times,” he said. “At Brahmā’s command, you were born into the noblest lineage of Kṣatriyas. Karna came forth by the grace of Surya; many kings were born of Yakṣas, Kinnaras, Gandharvas, Daityas and Dānavas—but you shall vanquish them all, and your deeds will stand eternal in the texts of history.” Then Varuṇa gave Arjuna the invincible Varuṇa-Pāśa, and Kubera bestowed the unconquerable Kauberastra. Elevated to a divine state, Arjuna beheld his ancestors, among them Vaivasvata, standing before him. The gods worshipped by mountains, rivers, and oceans—Varuṇa, Kubera, and their Yakṣa and Rākṣasa entourages—were pleased by Arjuna’s humility, his offerings of flowers, water, and fruits, and they blessed him. From afar Indra, seated upon Airāvata and holding the Vajra, sent waves of joy toward his son and joyfully blessed him for winning the grace of all the gods. “You have obtained great boons from Śiva,” he said. “You are now capable of aiding the gods. I shall send you my chariot and grant you celestial weapons.” Then Indra departed for Amarāvatī.
At his command, Mātali descended to Arjuna with the heavenly chariot, radiant with power and drawn by steeds that could fly. As it descended from the clouds, it suffused the sky with a deep sapphire hue, its gems glittering like stars so that between heaven and earth it seemed a newborn sun or a garland of lightning flashing among the clouds. Mātali said, “The gods and demons alike bow to your father, whose feet shine as the jeweled crowns of the mighty touch them. Your father, desiring to see you, invites you to Amarāvatī. Even those who have performed Aśvamedhas and Rājasūyas many times cannot approach this chariot. Come, ascend to paradise.”
Arjuna bathed in the Gaṅgā, offering water to the ancestors, gods, and sages, purifying his soul before mounting the chariot. As he rose, he addressed Mount Mandara: “O sacred peak, whose depths have given passage to sages seeking higher worlds, whose slopes delight celestial couples in joy, and whose caves gleam with gems—I have performed penance in your shade, subsisting on your fruits and worshipping the gods with the flowers of your pious groves. Now I go to Amarāvatī, yet I shall return.” Thus, bidding farewell to Mandara, he set upon the path of the celestial world.
Amarāvatī lay before him—the realm ruled by dharma, where loyal warriors had given their lives for their lords, where yajñas for the welfare of beings were performed, and penances upheld. Brighter than countless suns and moons, it was self-luminous, for neither sun nor moon nor fire nor wind were needed within. Only the virtuous may enter; those who spurn the perpetual fire, avoid pilgrimage, speak untruth, defy the Vedas, eat flesh unlawfully, flee from battle, or flaunt vanity are barred. At its gates stood Airāvata, moonlight streaming from his form in cloudlike auras. As Arjuna entered, the celestials, Siddhas, Cāraṇas, and Vidyādharas cried “Victory! Victory!” The Wind-God bore him to the court, where the beings of heaven gazed upon him with affection, knowing he was the primeval sage Nara, son of Indra, come to aid the gods. His joy knew no limits as celestial singers welcomed him with divine songs, and Vidyādharas danced with a beauty beyond all expectation. Blessed by sages, Arjuna saluted Devendra, who embraced him and felt an ethereal joy, seating him at his side and honoring him. The celestial women looked upon Arjuna with wonder, astonished to see him sharing Indra’s seat, which no mortal had ever approached, and they sought permission to worship him. Arjuna was housed in a palace of crystal and gems, surrounded by divine music and celestial dance.
At twilight, the moon rose, cool light cascading like a silken sari across the heavens, scented with sandalwood, musk, camphor, and a thousand blossoms. In that enchanted aura, Urvasi, the nymph of heaven, entered Arjuna’s dwelling like a flash from the clouds, her anklets jingling softly, her girdle murmuring at her waist. Fearful, devoted, and respectful, Arjuna touched her feet and stood with folded hands. “Mother,” he said, “you have come to bless me; my life is fulfilled by your arrival.” Hearing him, Urvaśī—her eyes dark like bees drinking nectar from the delicate features of Arjuna—spoke: “O matchless hero of mighty deeds! I heard of you when Narada and others sang your praises. I came desiring to unite with you, but you have called me ‘Mother’—a twisted notion from the mortal world. Tell me how I am your mother! In paradise the codes of righteousness do not bind us; here, there is no relationship but man and woman. Incest is unknown, for such ties do not exist here. This is a land of immortal youth, of Mandara’s fragrant blooms, of music intoxicating as honey, of golden caverns and breezes dancing through Nandana’s trees, releasing waves of scent and sweetness. Let me drown you in these pleasures.”
But Arjuna, steadfast, replied: “Would it be fitting to speak or act in ways that harm righteousness? Your words are against virtue, and though they stir my mettle, they shall not rouse my anger. This place is sacred—the Ganga known here as Mandākinī, Bhāgīrathī in the mortal world and Bhogavatī in the underworld, yet ever purifying. Here stand Mandara, Pārijāta, Santāna, Kalpaka, and Haricandana, the same divine trees that fulfill the pious in the world of men. Yet even here, I choose the path of karma, striving to break the fetters of rebirth by righteous deeds. You are the wife of our progenitor Purūrava, and a servant of my father Indra; therefore, you are indeed my mother, and you behold me with a mother’s affection.”
Urvasi, angered at his rejection, cried: “If I am denied, then on earth you shall become impotent, living among women in a helpless form!” Thus, she cursed him. Indra, knowing this, came to his son and said, “Your self-control will be celebrated among sages. Urvasi’s curse has no atonement; in your thirteenth year of exile, you shall take that form and teach dance in the women’s quarters.” Relieved by his father’s words, Arjuna bowed. And the sage Vaiśampāyana, telling this story to Janamejaya, declared: “This tale redeems all who hear it. Out of darkness rises light; out of despair, faith; from nothing, universal fame. Values, conduct, courage, and calamity—curse and boon alike—move together in their eternal rhythm, and endurance alone leads to triumph.”
