After the sage Bruhadaśva departed, having imparted to Yudhishthira the grand and sacred mystery of the Akṣahṛdaya, with its manifold virtues and advantages, the sons of Pāṇḍu awaited the return of Arjuna with anxious hearts. Meanwhile, auspicious omens adorned the sky — gentle radiance gleamed upon the firmament, and celestial harmonies whispered of divine approach….
King Rituparna, as he entered the quiet precincts of Vidarbha, marvelled at the calm air that gently moved about him. The people went about in a tranquil manner, free from the usual bustle and excitement of a royal gathering. Nowhere did he perceive the noise or haste that generally marks a swayamvara. The silence puzzled…
The Brahmin scholars sent by Damayanti wandered through many kingdoms, yet none could answer her test of words, and most returned without result. At last, one scholar named Parnada came before her and said, “When I journeyed to Ayodhya, ruled by King Rituparna, I spoke the words you had instructed. There I met a man—short…
In the court of Rituparna, the man once known as King Nala now lived under the name Bahuka. His strange appearance—a short, dark, and deformed form—hid the splendour of a once-glorious monarch. Yet despite his outward change, his heart was fixed upon Damayanti, whose memory dwelt unceasingly in his soul. One night, as he lay…
Through the dreary wilderness, Damayanthi moved, her heart sustained by a frail yet steady hope of finding her husband. Her lotus-like eyes shone once more with faith and confidence when, amid the vast desolation, she beheld a hermitage. Such hermitages were, in those days, living streams of faith—bridges between the mortal and the divine. There…
King Nala, having lost his wealth, power, and fame, walked out of his kingdom empty-handed with Damayanthi by his side. For three days, they lingered at the outskirts of his realm, watched by the cruel eyes of Kali. Though Nala was beloved among his subjects and esteemed by neighbouring kings, none dared to approach him,…
Indra, with commanding dignity, said unto Nala, “O King of Niṣadha, thou art bound by thy word. Let not hesitation overcome thee. Enter fearlessly the guarded palace of the princess, where armed men and women keep strict watch. By divine grace, none shall perceive thee, nor will any obstacle impede thy path. Enter the halls…
Ugrasravas, the revered bard, continued his narration of the Mahabharata, his voice weaving a spell that held the assembled sages in rapt, wordless silence. Amid that sacred gathering, Dharmaja, the son of Dharma, was ever composed—his calm words alone sufficed to cool the blazing impulses of Bhīmasena, fixing his mind within the bounds of time…
Indra, seated in his resplendent court, addressed Arjuna with words of assurance and divine grace. “O son of Kunti,” said the Lord of the celestials, “you are pure and free from sin. You stand as an apostle of self-control, a master over your senses. There is no possession in the three worlds to which you…
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…
