Vidura felt within his heart that he was favoured by unseen divine powers, urging him to restrain the blind king from bringing calamity upon society through a simple and righteous act, namely, the sincere granting of the Pandavas’ rightful share. With this resolve, his mind turned toward Bhishma, Drona, Kripa, and Ashwatthama, to whom he intended to convey this hopeful change in the king’s disposition.
He reflected that King Dhritarashtra had spoken of the ineffable power of the Divine, declaring that such might lay beyond mortal judgment, for divine grace surpasses human effort. Yet a lingering doubt regarding the firmness of the king’s resolve compelled Vidura to examine the matter more deeply, knowing the decision was encircled by great complexity.
Dhritarashtra then addressed him, saying, “O virtuous Vidura, you have set forth with crystal clarity the path of righteousness and ethical conduct. Tell me now, what is the nature of that inner voice which awakens spiritual insight?” Vidura replied with humility that he had spoken only what lay within his own understanding, and that higher wisdom would be imparted by the sage Sanatsujata.
The king responded that the sage was distant and inaccessible, and he longed instead to hear those hidden jewels of wisdom from Vidura himself. Vidura answered that he was not high-born nor a knower of sacred lore, for the deepest truths are revealed by those steeped in the Vedas. Yet he knew the heart of that eternal sage, who was keeper of secrets unknown even to the gods, and who alone could dispel the king’s doubts.
This response inflamed Dhritarashtra’s curiosity, and he asked how such a sage might be reached. Vidura advised that Sanatsujata was a treasury of compassion toward sincere seekers, and that pure prayer would surely draw him forth. The king prayed inwardly with unwavering devotion, and by that silent call the sage manifested. Vidura prostrated himself and informed the king of the divine arrival, completing all rites of hospitality. With folded hands he said, “O great sage, by the grace of your coming, we are blessed with merit and fulfillment.
The king seeks from you the supreme truth, spoken in words that bring solace to the soul. By faith he has prayed, and by tender compassion you have appeared. Teach him how those who surrender to a true preceptor may be freed from the bonds of sorrow and joy, gain and loss, love and hatred.” Dhritarashtra too prayed according to sacred custom. Pleased, the sage began his discourse, gently loosening the knots of ignorance and opening the king’s mind to deeper meaning and clarity. Before dawn, having fulfilled his purpose, the divine sage vanished from sight.
In that hour the moon waned, as though grieving the discord of the Kuru line and the loss of its honour. The stars faded like lotuses sinking into a sea of squandered wealth. Ruddy shelducks rose in graceful flight after a night of contentment with their mates, gleaming like moving stars across the sky. Lotus fragrance drew bees that slowly alighted, drank their fill, and drifted away in soft, drowsy song.
Parrots in the gardens echoed sacred chants heard in hermitages, while koels sang gently, as if unwilling to wake their young, yet stretching their tender necks to join the chorus, lending sanctity to the dawn. A mild breeze carried pollen through the first golden rays, spreading it like a celestial carpet. Red lotuses bloomed, blushing like a shy bride beneath a lover’s gaze. The sun rose along the eastern slopes, resembling a full cluster of Ashoka blossoms veiled with melting frost, its rays piercing foliage and flowers so that riverbanks gleamed like hopeful windows of prosperity, and all realms seemed bathed in grace and gratitude.
Dhritarashtra completed his morning rites, adorned himself suitably, and took his seat upon the throne. He was greeted by Drona, Kripa, Kritavarma, and Ashwatthama, and he returned the salutations of elders such as Bhishma, Vidura, Bahlika, Somadatta, and Bhrishrava, along with his sons Duryodhana, Dushasana, and the rest. At that moment Sanjaya sought permission to enter the assembly and, once seated, began to report on his mission to Upaplavya.
He said that he had met the Pandavas as commanded and was received by Dharmaraja, who inquired graciously after the welfare of each Kaurava by name, offering salutations in due order and honouring all bonds of kinship and friendship. Sanjaya stated that he himself spoke suitably to the occasion and conveyed the purpose of his visit, to which Dharmaraja responded fairly in both word and spirit. When asked by the king about the outcome, Sanjaya faithfully conveyed the substance of Dharmaraja’s reply to Bhishma, Duryodhana, and the assembled elders.
Seeking to dispel any remaining uncertainty, Sanjaya added that he had first met Krishna and Arjuna. The king, anxious, asked about the state of Krishna’s mind, knowing well that the intellect of Dharmaraja and the might of Arjuna were both placed at Krishna’s feet, and that his counsel would shape the future course of events. Dhritarashtra feared Krishna’s political wisdom more than he trusted his own resolve, aware of the discord between his thoughts, words, and deeds.
Sanjaya then described how Krishna was in his private chambers with family, and upon learning of his arrival summoned him in. Krishna and Arjuna reclined upon a radiant couch, with Arjuna pressing Krishna’s feet upon his lap. Draupadi and Satyabhama sat nearby upon jewel-studded seats. Sanjaya prostrated himself humbly, and Krishna signalled for a golden seat to be placed, which Sanjaya touched reverently before sitting upon the ground with folded hands, beholding Krishna and Arjuna as though divinity itself had descended to bless him.
This vivid narration conveyed the warmth and trust of the encounter, in keeping with the tradition that an envoy recounts the manner of his reception, for such details shape future relations between rival thrones. Sanjaya reflected that Krishna and Arjuna would unfailingly follow Dharmaraja’s command, even unto fearsome deeds, and that to face Arjuna in battle was to challenge death itself.
He told how they dined together and bestowed upon him jewels and garments matching their own. When he stated the purpose of his visit, Arjuna prepared to speak, but Krishna intervened, instructing Sanjaya to repeat his words in Dhritarashtra’s court before sons, kin, and elders alike. Krishna declared that when one without enemies grows wrathful, it is like fire born of water, for which no remedy exists.
He counselled that all remaining wealth be justly distributed, friends and allies honoured, desires fulfilled, affection shown to wife and children, and life embraced fully before stepping without delay onto the battlefield. This warning, urging the enjoyment of life before its surrender to war, stood alongside Vidura’s counsel, Sanjaya’s caution, and Sanatsujata’s profound teaching, leaving the assembly to ponder how wisdom is received or ignored when destiny presses close, offering guidance to the discerning and a trial to wavering hearts.
