Dharmaraja, steadfast in resolve, continued to press his considered view before Sanjaya. The twang of Arjuna’s bow, loosed with unerring strength, sent rolling echoes across the field and struck terror into the hearts of the Kaurava hosts. Bhima, radiant, fierce, and unconquerable, brandished his mighty mace, scattering their ranks, tearing their courage apart, and driving them in panic from the battlefield. Nakula and Sahadeva advanced like twin elephants, trampling all that lay before them, crushing resistance as living creatures and creeping growth alike are crushed beneath irresistible feet.
When their forces stand against my brothers, there is no path by which death may be escaped. Therefore, abandon the thought that the Kauravas shall prevail in war. You are a virtuous man who has come here with goodwill, softening anger like a subsiding wave. We shall endure and sustain, as you know well that we have borne their misconduct even in the face of open humiliation.
Trust that we shall continue in tolerance, for we do not delight in harming them. Yet, if Dhritarashtra were to act with wisdom, if the strained bonds were restored and praised by the people, if he were to invite us, restrain his sons, and grant us Indraprastha or any rightful portion of the kingdom, peace would gladly be embraced.
Sanjaya replied that it was his faith in Dharmaraja’s forbearance, his patience even amid grave error, and his righteous discernment that compelled him to speak at such length. Still unsatisfied, he begged leave to continue. Your true wealth, he said, is non-violence and conduct beyond reproach. The Kauravas, driven by wickedness, deny your share and are prepared even to perish, yet food begged in humility is better than wealth stained with blood. He recalled how Dharmaraja had performed the great Rajasuya, how gifts were lavished upon Brahmins and common folk alike, pleasing gods and mortals, celestials and men.
His restraint of the senses and love of peace were renowned throughout the world, his life pure and sustained by the merit of noble deeds. Such conduct, Sanjaya urged, should not be darkened by violence. Why allow deceitful gamblers to ride upon your prosperity. Why endure public scorn for gentleness in that dire hour?
Why submit to forest exile and hardship? Endurance is indeed the ground on which such wrongs are borne, yet after so exalted a life, to enter the cruel enterprise of war, to slay elders, friends, and kin, would wash away accumulated merit and yield only endless sorrow. Wealth won by war is fleeting, condemned by elders and well-wishers, and brings only regret. Only you, he said, can swallow anger and restrain it like Rudra holding poison in his throat, a feat impossible for lesser men.
Thus Sanjaya sought to lift Dharmaraja toward the heavens with praise, hoping to turn him from readiness for war. Yet Dharmaraja, unmatched in restraint and holding virtue dearer than life itself, remained unmoved. Fixing his gaze upon Sanjaya, he spoke calmly. Certain acts appear righteous on the surface, yet when examined deeply, reveal another nature. By such scrutiny, the righteous and unrighteous may exchange their seeming places.
Readiness for battle may appear unrighteous, yet when weighed against the welfare of the people, it becomes righteous. Anger must indeed be cast aside, and non-violence is a high virtue, but those who harm society, stain noble lineages, and shatter the peace of the people deserve punishment. Such chastisement itself is virtue, as declared by the ancient texts. Leaving aside the subtle argument, he said, tell me plainly whether it is unrighteous for kings to wage war. The duties of Brahmin, Kshatriya, and Vaishya are clearly set forth by the ancients. Kings are born to give, not to take, and to protect all orders in their callings. How then may they neglect their own duty? When wealth is gained by just means, and another seeks to seize it by force, the law upheld by Indra himself commands the use of arms. Why do you not counsel the Kauravas on virtue, as they rush headlong toward ruin? In a full assembly, they dared to humiliate Draupadi by every wicked device. Has such a dice game ever been seen elsewhere, or such an end arisen from it?
When Sanjaya faltered, Krishna spoke. When Draupadi was insulted, Bhishma and the elders stood silent, without even seeking the will of Dhritarashtra. The king did not restrain his sons in that monstrous deed. Had he done so, the people would have praised him, and I would have rejoiced.
Thus, Krishna laid bare Dharmaraja’s conviction that Dhritarashtra was the root from which his sons’ wickedness grew, and warned Sanjaya not to cloak cruelty in sweet speech. The message borne to the Kuru throne was clear. If their rightful share of the kingdom and wealth were denied, the Pandavas would not hesitate to sound the conch of war. Each pursued his own course, diplomacy and resolve standing firm on all sides.
Sanjaya sought to dissuade them from war, Dharmaraja sought justice that might yet allow peace, and Krishna revealed how present and future deeds of the Pandavas flowed directly from the injustice of the Kuru court. In these exchanges, logic, virtue, merit, good and evil rose and fell by turns, each seeming to prevail for a moment, yet never losing its essential nature amid the shifting demands of circumstance.
