Kunti, mother of the five sons born of gods, yet touched by the frailty of mortal feeling, sat restless and anxious. Her mind wandered through the shadows of old sorrows and cruel memories. Long had her sons been gone to the grand assembly of the svayaṃvara, yet no word had returned. Dark thoughts pressed upon her—might the vengeful Kauravas have slain them? Why had all five gone so boldly, attired in the modest luxury of disguise? Still, she trusted the unfailing foresight of Vyasa, and in trembling prayer she sought the shelter of divine grace. “May the blessings of the holy Brahmins and the mercy of the gods guard my children,” she whispered. “Shield us from the malice of the Kauravas.”
Her fears were eased when at last Yudhishthira and Nakula came safely home. Not long after, Bhīma and Arjuna arrived, Draupadi walking beside them, radiant as Laksmi incarnate. With the playful air of their wandering life they called, “Mother, we have brought alms!” Unknowing what treasure they bore, Kunti, relieved of her fear, spoke lightly as ever: “Share it equally among you five.” But when her eyes fell upon the maiden of unearthly beauty, a blush of sudden shame touched her. Dreading that her careless words might lead to unrighteousness, she turned to Yudhishthira and said, “My sons came to me in joy, saying they had brought alms, and I commanded that all five should share. My word has never been broken yet. You will not act against it. Yet this command seems against custom, for Arjuna, you won her hand and performed the fire-rites of marriage.”
Arjuna, bowing with quiet resolve, replied, “Elder brother, it is not fitting that the younger should wed while the elder stands aside. You must therefore marry her first. This is the wish of us all.” For indeed, by the secret will of destiny, Draupadi’s heart shone with a strange affection for each of the five, and the prophecy of Vyasa stirred in Yudhishthira’s memory. “This is the divine gift foretold,” he said at last. “Let us, in obedience to our mother’s words and Heaven’s design, all be joined to her in righteous union.”
Even as they spoke, the mighty Krsna and Balarama entered, their faces bright with the smile of kinship. They saluted Kunti and Yudhishthira, embraced the brothers, and inquired of their welfare. Yudhishthira told them of Duryodhana’s cruel scheme and the burning of the wax house, and how they had escaped in the guise of humble Brahmins. Krsna, with gentle laughter, answered, “Can the sun be hidden though veiled by cloud? So too your glory cannot be concealed. In the presence of so many kings, such a feat as Arjuna’s could belong to none but the sons of Pandu. The wicked designs of Dhritrastra and his son are foiled, and by the favour of the gods, you stand unharmed. Your virtue will soon bear its fruit.” Having blessed them, the two heroes departed.
Meanwhile, King Drupada, though overjoyed, pondered in secret: who is the true husband of his daughter, and what is his lineage? He sent his son Dhṛṣṭadyumna in disguise to the potter’s house where the strangers dwelt. There, the prince beheld the maiden Draupadī bowing with reverent grace before an aged matron, who instructed her gently in the evening’s duties: “First set aside a portion for the gods, for the sacred fire, for the Brāhmins and the hungry. Of the remainder, give one share to the strong warrior who bears the strength of many elephants, and divide the rest among the others; what is left we shall eat.” Draupadī, with the courtesy of a princess and the humility of a devotee, obeyed. She spread fresh kuśa grass and soft deer-skins, prepared their simple resting place, and lay at their feet like a dutiful child. Though born to splendor, she embraced the poverty of the hut with quiet joy, while the five heroes, clad as mendicants, spoke freely of horses and chariots, of arms and the arts of war. Their bearing betrayed both royal birth and Brāhminic virtue. Dhṛṣṭadyumna, perceiving their noble mien, returned to his father with the secret half-revealed.
Still seeking certainty, Drupada sent his chief priest to invite the strangers with honors and to ask their lineage. Yudhiṣṭhira, smiling with quiet dignity, replied, “Your king declared that whosoever struck the target should win his daughter. That vow is fulfilled before the gathered world. Why then this questioning? Can a man of mean birth draw so mighty a bow? The king’s desire is accomplished; what more remains?”
The priest reported these words, and Drupada devised another subtle test. He ordered that chariots of every rank be brought forth, knowing that men instinctively choose the vehicle suited to their station. The guests were invited to court. Kuntī and Draupadī were seated in the chariot of queens and princesses; the brothers mounted a royal car flashing with gold and gems. At the palace, Drupada received them with lavish honors, spreading before them gold and jewels, silks and ornaments, weapons and shields. The five, their eyes kindling, took up bows and blades as men long familiar with the tools of war. Without hesitation, they seated themselves upon the thrones reserved for kings.
Drupada’s heart was satisfied. Their broad shoulders, their sinewed arms, their fearless bearing—these were marks of the highest Kṣatriya blood. Approaching Yudhiṣṭhira, he spoke with wonder: “Are you of royal race? Or are you celestials descended to win my daughter? Tell us who you are, and end our doubts.”
Then Yudhiṣṭhira revealed the truth: “We are the sons of Pāṇḍu, scions of the Kuru line. I am Yudhiṣṭhira; these are Bhīma, Arjuna, Nakula, and Sahadeva. This noble lady is our mother Kuntī. Our deeds and our conduct are known to the world.”
At these words, Drupada was moved to tears. “Fortune indeed favors us,” he cried, “for you have escaped the murderous fire of the wax house.” Yudhiṣṭhira recounted their peril and the treachery of Duryodhana and Dhṛtarāṣṭra. Drupada, condemning that dark plot, honored the sons of Pāṇḍu with all rites of welcome and royal respect. Thus was the veil lifted, and the hidden princes stood revealed, opening a new and fateful chapter in the epic of the Bharatas.
