The Dharmaraja, troubled by the menace that Karna posed to Arjuna, abandoned all comfort in anxious thought. Meanwhile, the lord of the heavens, wishing to favour the Pandavas, descended in the guise of a Brahmin scholar and stood before the gates of Karna. At midday, Karna, as was his daily vow, bestowed charities upon Brahmins. The disguised god approached and entreated him for alms. Karna, turning toward him and sensing the hidden divinity beneath the borrowed form, said, “O Brahmin, speak your wish. Do you desire graceful maidens, fertile fields, ornaments of gold, precious gems, or sacred herds? Name what you will; it shall be yours.”
Then the god replied, “Listen, Karna of radiant virtues. I seek none of the treasures you have named. If you deem it fit, grant me instead the ear-rings and the natural mail with which you were born.” Karna, seeking to jest lightly, answered, “O Brahmin, you appear innocent indeed. These ancient ornaments you ask for—who in the wide universe has ever begged such strange things? Your very request suggests to me that you are no ordinary petitioner. You seem endowed with noble conduct and purity; therefore, ask not for these gifts that serve no mortal purpose. Choose anything else, and I shall satisfy you. Heed my counsel.” Yet the disguised Brahmin remained firm and repeated his earlier demand.
Karna then bowed, worshipped him, and, offering gold, gems, and ornaments as taught by the Sun-God, pleaded, “These ear-rings and this mail are not earned by me; they are my natural armour. Without them, I shall fall on the battlefield when mighty warriors assail me. I cannot give them. Instead, take my realm—chains of villages, clusters of towns, hamlets beside life-giving rivers, deep forests and fertile lands, the entire splendour of Aṅga. Accept this charity but trouble me no further.” Still, the Brahmin declined, unmoved, holding fast to his solitary request.
Then Karna, smiling gently, said, “Victor over demons, I know you now—lord of the heavens. Under your gracious rule the three worlds flourish. There is meaning when a mortal seeks a boon from you; but when you ask from me, it is my fortune. Yet tell me, is it just for you to come in disguise and thus obtain what you desire? Is this not a form of deception?” The god replied, “O noble Karna, your father the Sun-God forewarned you so that you might recognise me. Knowing who I am, will you still send me away empty-handed?”
Karna answered, “O lord, grant me instead the divine missile Sakti, and take in exchange my ear-rings and mail.” The god said, “I shall bestow upon you that mighty weapon, but hear its condition. In this mortal realm it will destroy but one unconquerable foe and then return to me. Do you accept this?” Karna replied, “I have but one true enemy. My wish is to slay him. I accept.”
Smiling, the god said, “I perceive your hidden desire. Arjuna, fierce and valiant, cannot be subdued. The wealth of all worlds bows before Narayana, and Arjuna is guarded by none other than Krsna, the eternal refuge of grace. He is invincible.” Karna replied, “Be that as it may, if I must tear away my mail, my body will be torn and disfigured. Will you restore my form?” The god answered, “Your body shall shine with tender rays like burnished gold, resembling your divine father.”
Thus saying, he placed the Sakti in Karna’s hands and warned him to employ it only in utmost peril. Karna then, with fearless resolve, tore away his armour as though flaying himself alive, blood flowing in streams. The heavens beheld his peerless sacrifice in awe; celestial drums resounded and Vedic hymns echoed across the sky. The god restored Karna’s form, bright and stainless, and the celestials rained blossoms upon him. Taking the natural mail and ear-rings, the lord of the heavens departed to his abode.
Later, King Janamejaya asked, “O Vaisampayana, how did my forefathers endure the remaining exile after twelve years in the forest?” The sage replied that the Pandavas, their spirits strengthened by the tales narrated by Markandeya, rested awhile and then returned to Dvaitavana. There, a Brahmin approached Dharmaraja in distress and complained, “While my sacred Arani—those wooden sticks that kindle the holy fire—hung upon a branch, a deer rushed against the tree and carried the Arani away, caught in its horns. O noble king, praised even by your foes, my rites depend on that sanctified object. Kindly send someone to retrieve it.”
Dharmaraja, knowing its spiritual worth, set out at once with his brothers. They spotted the deer and loosed their arrows, yet none struck the creature. It fled deep into a desolate forest and vanished. Exhausted from the pursuit, they rested beneath a vast banyan tree. Nakula, perplexed, said, “We are born in noble lineage, guided by righteousness and good conduct. Why has this misfortune befallen us?” Dharmaraja replied wisely, “Past deeds shape both joy and sorrow; nothing else governs fate.”
Bhīma then muttered to Nakula, though meant for Dharmaraja, “These troubles arise because we failed to slay the sons of the blind king when they summoned Draupadi to the court.” Arjuna said, “Brother, our endurance of Karna’s cruel words that day, sparing him like cowards, brought this upon us.” Sahadeva added, “Our failure to kill the deceitful gambler Shakuni is the cause.” Their thoughts diverged from Dharmaraja’s, yet in obedience they remained united.
Dharmaraja paid no heed to their reasoning and simply said, “Nakula, we thirst. Climb the tree and seek water.” Nakula obeyed, and from above perceived a distant lake, its waters sparkling. Dharmaraja sent him to drink and fetch water for the rest. Nakula hastened toward the serene, shining lake set within a sanctified grove.
Thus, the devotion to duty, the spirit of charity, and their varied values converged into a single path. The roles of the Sun-God, the lord of the heavens, Karna, Dharmaraja, and the other Pandavas—differing in nature yet united in purpose—combined to shape the destiny of victory, serving as a guiding light for ages to come.
