The preparation for their hidden sojourn advanced in silence, and Dharmaraja, having determined the roles of Bheema, turned his thoughtful gaze upon Arjuna. “This Arjuna,” he declared, “who once consumed the Khandava forest with fire, who has beheld Lord Śiva whom even the gods rarely behold, who has delighted Indra beyond measure and shared half his throne—how shall such a radiant soul serve an ordinary mortal king?
The thought weighs heavily upon me.” Arjuna, with gentle composure, replied that, by divine providence, a boon had been bestowed upon him that suited their secret exile, and he would reveal it for the king’s judgment. He reminded them that during his sojourn in Amarāvati,
Urvaśī had cursed him to become a eunuch. Yet, compassionate Indra had ordained that this transformation should be endured during the period of concealment, after which the curse would be lifted. “I shall attire myself accordingly,” Arjuna continued. “A metal corset shall mask my powerful chest and shoulders; ornaments of pearl and conch shall veil my strong arms. In such a form, I shall enter the kingdom of Virata.
In Amarāvati, I was trained in dance; thus, I shall teach the maidens of the inner chambers with pleasing skill. Permit me, for I shall serve under the name Bruhannala. I shall move freely among the women and bring delight to the queen, and if any inquire into my past, I shall say that I was the dance-teacher of the revered Panchali, honoured by the Pandavas.” Dharmaraja, satisfied, turned his eyes upon Nakula, whose beauty was matched by a mind of refined gentleness.
“He is noble,” thought the king, “delicate in nature, and unused to serving another. How shall he endure hardship? This troubles me.” Nakula, perceiving the king’s concern, spoke with humility: “I shall enter as a trainer of horses. I am versed in the ways of taming, riding, and caring for steeds; I know their ailments, their seasons, and the nurturing of their young. Even the wildest among them I can subdue, and I can instruct the stablemen with ease. I shall go by the name Damagradhi, and if I am questioned, I shall say I served in the stables of Dharmaraja himself. Thus shall I earn the king’s favour.”
Dharmaraja accepted his words and turned toward the radiant Sahadeva, pure of heart, free of pride, just in conduct, gentle in speech, and beloved of all good men—above all, the cherished youngest of Kunti. “He is tender,” the king pondered. “How shall such a soul bend to service?” Sahadeva allayed his elder’s unease: “I am skilled in the management of great herds. My heart is set upon the welfare of cattle, and I shall join Virata’s court as protector of the cows.
Under my care, even dry cows yield milk; the weak grow strong, the lean become healthy. I know the dangers that lurk in water and pasture, and I can guide the herds to safety and plenty. Thus, shall I enrich the king’s wealth. If they question me, I shall say I oversaw Dharmaraja’s cattle.” Reassured, Dharmaraja turned at last to Panchali. “She is delicate,” he reflected, “refined, accustomed only to noble tasks, ever surrounded by attendants, far removed from menial labour.
How shall she now serve another?” Hearing this, Draupadi resolved to ease his mind. “I shall enter the women’s chambers in the guise of a sairandhri,” she said, “and, calling myself Malini, shall approach Queen Sudeshna, who is virtuous and disinclined toward deceit. I shall serve her with dignity. I know the crafting of fragrant pastes—of musk, of sandal—into rare and lovely unguents fit for the queen and her retinue. I can weave garlands of many kinds and create adornments for all occasions.
She will find favour in my skill. If asked of my past, I shall say I attended noble Draupadi.” Yet Dharmaraja cautioned her: “You know our lineage, our virtues, our fame, and your own chastity. Beware the mischief of the palace and the dangers that lurk in idle minds.” She gave a gentle smile that dispelled his fears.
“The clan of the sairandhri is honoured,” she said. “Its daughters guard their purity with wisdom. I shall speak little, remain steadfast in restraint, and never breach the vow of concealment. My dignity shall be my lamp.” Thus reassured, Dharmaraja consented to her role. The plans for their hidden life were set.
Dhoumya was charged with tending the perpetual fire; Panchali’s attendants were sent to the court of Drupada; the charioteer Indrasena with his company was dispatched to Dwaraka. To any who inquired, they were to say that all these companions had parted from the Pandavas in Dwaitavana, and that their later fate was unknown.
When all was arranged and their people sent away, Dhoumya prepared to instruct them in the righteous conduct befitting service. And so the Pandavas set forth, shaping a life rooted in virtue, ready to inscribe a new chapter upon the scroll of time.
