According to the design contrived by Duryodhana, his hosts, joined by seasoned elders of the Kuru line and led by the revered grandsire, advanced toward the realm of the Matsyas. Reaching its borders, they fell upon the outlying hamlets where rich cattle-herds were bred and tended by trained keepers. That land was famed for the excellence of its kine and for the wealth drawn from them, forming a chief support of its prosperity. The small garrison posted there attempted resistance, but was quickly subdued by Kripa and the other commanders. The chief among the herdsmen, discerning the banners of the Kuru race, hastened to the capital in his chariot, crying aloud the danger that was upon them. Finding that the main royal force had not yet returned from its pursuit of the Trigartas, he laid the matter before Prince Uttara, declaring that the Kuru army had encircled their lands, seized the noble herds, slain all who opposed them, and now threatened the very gates. “You must turn them back,” he said.
“Your arms are mighty; your sinews strong. Equip yourself at once. Let shield and mail adorn you; let bows, tridents, arrows, swords, and hammers be gathered without delay. You and your sire are renowned for courage. You are spoken of as the light of your line, the fruit of your father’s penance and generous deeds. Act in a manner befitting this faith and preserve the honour of our people.” Knowing well how princes are moved to timely action when their worth is proclaimed, the leader of herdsmen praised the youth’s valour and pressed the urgency of the hour. The prince, delighted that his fame was whispered with admiration even in the private chambers of the palace women, answered with swelling pride that he would rout the Kurus swiftly and recover the herds. Yet he confessed one concern—that a skilled guide for his chariot was lacking, and without such guidance victory itself might slip away while the cattle were driven far afield. “Search without delay,” he urged. “A battle may be child’s play, but only when the chariot is steered by an able hand. If the Kurus escape with our wealth, what face shall we show?”
Imagining his own prowess, he added that Bhishma, Duryodhana, Karna, Kripa, and Drona would marvel at his courage and mistake him for Arjuna himself. “I shall strike with such art,” he boasted, “that the world will speak of my victory over the Kurus.” These words were overheard by Sairandhri, who, amused by his empty comparison with Arjuna, conveyed it privately to the son of Pandu. Arjuna then assured her that their vow of concealment had run its full term and bade her inform the prince that Brihannala was skilled in the guidance of chariots, having once steered the car in the burning of the Khandava forest to the praise of both Arjuna and Krishna. Many a time had he driven Arjuna’s own vehicle in battle. “Tell the prince,” he said, “that with such support, victory will be easy. If they object, speak in a manner that persuades them.”
Sairandhri approached the young prince. “O lotus-faced lord,” she said, “you seek a charioteer; I bring you tidings that will serve your need. Brihannala is deft and eager in the handling of steeds; his courage is without stain. In the burning of the forest he aided Arjuna with strength and skill and added lustre to that hero’s fame. This is the service you require.” Hearing this, the prince laughed lightly. “Sairandhri,” he replied, “why mock me? I have no desire even to look upon that person. How shall I accept such a one as guide of my chariot? People will make sport of me, saying that while the Kurus seized our herds the prince rode forth with an unfit companion, as though no proper guide could be found in the whole city.” But Sairandhri, firm in her confidence, answered, “Prince, if the reins lie in Brihannala’s hands, no force—even if the three worlds unite—shall prevail against you. Your victory is assured. A mere outward peculiarity, born of strange circumstance, does not diminish valour.” Pressed by her certainty and finding no other choice, the prince consented. Looking upon her, he said reluctantly he would go himself to bring Brihannala.
When Uttara, adorned with delicate steps and radiant ornaments, entered the hall where Brihannala taught the maidens, the place seemed touched with the glow of a crimson dawn. Her form, supple yet strong like a creeper stirred by a gentle wind, moved with grace. Her braided hair shone like a curious spirit peering from heaven; her earrings chimed to the rhythm of her stride; her anklets sang like the swans of the inner courts following her motion. Parting the shadows like a flash of light, she approached her teacher with humility. “Master,” she said, “my brother’s charioteer fell in battle, and since then the place has remained empty.
Now the Kurus have seized our herds and ravaged our villages. My brother stands ready for combat but lacks a guide. Sairandhri spoke of your skill and praised your mastery of the reins. Trusting in my closeness to you, I vowed to bring you. Reject me not. Save us in this hour. If you refuse, I shall believe your affection for me has waned.” Her words, gentle yet artfully woven, touched Arjuna deeply. The loving sincerity of her plea left no room for denial. Smiling, he answered, “Do you truly think I possess such mastery? I cannot dispute your declaration. I accept. Let us go. Whatever task you give, I shall fulfil with care and devotion.” Thus, like a mighty tusker issuing from a grove, Brihannala strode forth, the princess preceding him with reverence.
Meeting Uttara, the prince addressed him with respect. “I bear enmity to the Kurus,” he said. “Guide my chariot. Come swiftly. Accept this shield. Make haste, for the herds must be saved.” Brihannala replied, “If it were dance or music, your summons would suit me well. For battle, you might seek someone else.” But the prince insisted. “Your strength in the burning of the forest is undiminished. We know your intelligence. Aid me as a friend. Prepare for combat and speak no further.” He handed a shield, though in his haste Brihannala slung it wrongly, provoking soft laughter among the palace women. Uttara corrected it, donned his own armour, and commanded, “Harness the steeds, raise the banner, and let the people see the herds restored.”
Brihannala bowed. “Your command, I follow. You know my capacity; through you, we shall conquer.” With fresh ardour, he yoked the noble horses and set the golden pole and flag upon the chariot. The princess and her companions, looking upon Brihannala, cried to Uttara, “Win glory, strike down the mighty warriors, and bring back the turbans of your foes adorned with their bright woven flowers; we shall deck our dolls in token of your triumph.” Brihannala answered gently, “The prince will win renown far beyond such trophies. Watch, and you shall see; we shall return soon.” He arranged the weapons, unfastened the reins, and made all ready.
While the chariot was prepared, Uttara gathered knowledge of the Kurus’ position. The elders and women of the city blessed the pair, sprinkling sacred water and rice tinted with turmeric, praying that the fortune Arjuna once gained in the burning of the forest might now attend their prince. Under Brihannala’s guidance, Uttara advanced to the old burial ground near which the enemy stood. There he beheld the vast Kuru host, its masses moving behind the captured herds. The ordered array resembled a celestial garden rising toward the sky. Dust from their march drifted upward in billowing hues—grey like storm-clouds, gold like drifting pollen, green like the canopy of forest leaves, white like flocks of swans, and dark as deep foliage—until the air seemed filled with flying blossoms.
The earth quivered beneath the tread of their footmen. Astonished at the might of that force, the prince trembled. His voice faltered as he spoke to Brihannala. “This host is terrible. Bhishma, Drona, and Kripa—all are here. Duryodhana blazes like the sun with the fire of his weapons. Their banners flicker like tongues of flame poised to consume all fame before them. How shall I even approach them? I am but a youth, unskilled in archery. How can I stand before Shakuni, Saindhava, Durmukha, Vikarna, Karna, and the other masters? I knew not that the danger was so vast. What fate awaits us? These warriors are tried and proven; we cannot withstand them. I am afraid.” Thus he spoke, while the moment approached for the son of Pandu to act, dispelling the fears and doubts of the trembling prince.
