Prince Uttara Kumara trembled at the sight of the vast and terrible host drawn against him. His limbs shook, his mind wandered without direction, and he cried to Brihannala that the chariot rushed forward beyond his command and beyond his courage. “Turn back the reins,” he said, “for I cannot stand before these innumerable warriors. Life is dear, and in such a condition, I cannot meet this army.”
Arjuna, smiling at the prince’s trembling voice, replied gently, “I am not thoughtless enough to hurl myself upon the full might of the Kurus. Yet that small band driving away the cowherds deserves chastisement. It is unrighteous to abandon the helpless to the hands of the wicked. You mounted this chariot with promises made before the ladies of the inner chambers, swearing to humble the foe; now, seeing the magnitude of their strength, you shrink away. This is unworthy of a prince, whose spirit should leave no trace of fear.”
These brave words of Brihannala, instead of strengthening the prince, deepened his despair. His voice broken, he said, “Leave the cattle to their fate. Speak not of women’s praise. I cannot fight and give up my life.
Arjuna answered, “Men judge the strength of an enemy only after standing firm for a while; the bold do not yield without contest. The Kurus have not yet set their eyes upon you. Tell me then, why does fear seize your heart? O prince, without shrinking before the thunder of conches, without faltering amid the dust-storm raised by marching battalions, without yielding when weapons rain upon you and chariots fall, move forward with the single resolve to conquer and win glory. If you flee unseen, will not the world laugh? Stand firm.”
But Uttara Kumara cried out, “Susarma’s southern host surrounds us. My father has taken all the soldiers with him. Who remains to aid us? Why speak unwisely? Turn back the chariot before the foe discovers us. To survive is the highest rule.”
Arjuna replied, “Such words kindle pride in the enemy. To abandon the cattle and bear the people’s scorn is cowardice. When you lacked a guide, Sairandhri told you of me; respecting her word, you brought me here with honour. The townsfolk blessed the sacred fire and rice for this venture. Until I reclaim the cattle, I shall not return. Steady your mind. By device and daring, we shall strike fear into the Kuru lines.”
Arjuna pressed the chariot forward, while the prince, pale and distraught, pleaded, “Let the people mock; I care not. Do not force me. If your hands burn to fight, then fight—your fate is yours, not mine.” Saying this, he leapt from the chariot, leaving bow and arrows behind, and fled toward the city.
Arjuna, vexed by his conduct, tied the reins and pursued him. Some Kuru warriors who glimpsed Brihannala’s flowing hair and red robes mocked the figure, yet those wise in the ways of war studied the strong hands, the broad chest, and the commanding shoulders with suspicion. Both masculine force and feminine grace mingled strangely in that form. Whisper ran through the ranks: Could this be Arjuna himself, hidden in the guise of a dancer? Who else would dare approach the Kuru host alone?
Meanwhile, the young prince staggered under terror. His breath broke, his body trembled, his voice failed as Arjuna caught him. He begged amidst tears, “Let me depart. I shall give you a hundred gold coins, eight gems, ten elephants, and even a village—only release me. My mother waits anxiously for me; let me set her heart at ease.” But Arjuna lifted him firmly onto the chariot and said, “If you will not fight, then simply hold the reins. I shall scatter the Kuru ranks like dust in a storm and restore your herds. Fear not.”
He set the prince at the driver’s place and strode toward the same sacred tree where the Pandavas had hidden their weapons. The Kuru elders, beholding him from afar, saw ill omens fill the sky. Drona murmured that the sun had grown dim, foxes howled strangely, clouds bore unearthly hues, drums beat without touch, elephants stumbled, steeds shed tears, banners drooped, and weapons burned with unnatural fire. To him it was clear: Arjuna had arisen like a lion starved in his cave, filled with wrath from long hardship. Bheeshma understood Drona’s inner concern and spoke in a guarded tone, signalling that the exile’s final year had passed and the foes must now be faced without hesitation.
Karna, stung by Drona’s praise of Arjuna, protested fiercely, accusing the master of favouring the sons of Pandu. But Duryodhana rebuked him, saying, “If that is not Arjuna, I shall crush him at once. Yet if it is indeed Arjuna, then he must again return to the forest for twelve years.” The elders consented, though unease still clouded their hearts.
Arjuna then bade the prince halt the chariot beneath the same tree. “The Gandeeva rests here,” he said. “These lesser bows cannot bear the strain of my arms. Climb the tree and fetch the sacred bow kept with our weapons—mine, Yudhishthira’s, Bhima’s, Nakula’s, and Sahadeva’s.”
The prince hesitated, saying, “It looks like a shrouded corpse. Must I, a prince, touch such a thing?”
Arjuna answered with gentle firmness, “It is no corpse, but a bundle of arms hidden from prying eyes. Trust me. Bring me the Gandeeva.”
The prince climbed reluctantly. When he lost the bindings, a flood of dazzling radiance burst forth; the weapons shone like serpents of fire, striking fear into his heart. Arjuna comforted him and told him to open the bundle fully. He beheld the mighty bow-string, bright as lightning, and asked, bewildered, “Who could wield such a weapon?”
Arjuna said, “That which you see is the Gandeeva, pillar of Arjuna’s strength. With it he conquers gods and demons alike. Fashioned in divine realms, it passed from Brahma to Prajapati, to Indra, to the moon, to Varuna, and then to Agni, who granted it to Arjuna during the burning of the Khandava forest. Its radiance shakes the three worlds. When Arjuna’s time ends, he shall cast it into the ocean at Agni’s command.”
Thus, he instructed the trembling prince, unveiling not only the sacred weapon but also the hidden might of the Pandavas, preparing him for the great unfolding of destiny.
