In the serene vastness of the Himalayas, the sages approached the great Lord Shiva and said, “O Lord of the Universe, Arjuna, son of Pandu, has undertaken a penance of such depth and fervour that his radiance has turned into a blazing fire, spreading awe and fear alike through the realms. We beseech you, O Protector of Life, to relieve us from the fierce energy of his meditation.” Shiva, smiling gently, replied, “I am aware of Arjuna’s purpose; his devotion shall not go unrewarded. I will myself attend to his aim.”
Then, in a moment of divine transformation, Shiva adorned himself in the guise of a forest hunter. His body shone with a golden hue; in his hand he bore a mighty bow and a quiver full of arrows. Beside him stood Parvati, who had taken the form of a tribal huntress—her eyes large and luminous, her hair tied in a peculiar knot and decked with wildflowers, her step firm and majestic like that of an elephant swaying through the forest. The Lord’s attendants followed behind, their forms fierce and eager for the chase, breaking through thickets and scaring away birds and beasts. The forest trembled under their movement; the squirrels and birds cried out in distress. Yet, when the divine pair entered, their brilliance subdued all creatures. The wild animals, struck by the radiance of Shiva and Parvati, stood motionless, bereft of their natural Vigor.
At that time, a demon named Mooka assumed the form of a colossal wild boar and charged toward Arjuna, intending to slay him. The warrior, ever alert, raised his Gandeeva bow, its string twanging like thunder, waiting for the beast to draw near. Just as the boar rushed upon him, a tribal hunter’s voice rang out, warning Arjuna to flee. Unmoved, Arjuna released his arrow at the same instant that the hunter shot his own. The beast, struck by both shafts, fell to the earth, writhing, and then, assuming its true demonic form, vanished into nothingness.
Arjuna stood astonished. Before him appeared the hunter, surrounded by his wild entourage, standing tall and commanding, his voice like rolling thunder. “Who are you,” Arjuna demanded, “that you roam so freely in this perilous forest with your consort and followers? Why did you strike the same quarry that I had already shot? Is this not against the sacred code of the hunt? You have transgressed righteousness, and for that, I shall punish you.” The hunter smiled, replying, “The beast fell by my arrow. Your words spring from pride, not strength. True courage lives in action, not in speech. If you possess valor, let us test it in combat.”
Thus began a duel between mortal and divine. Arjuna, famed for draining the will of his foes, rained countless arrows upon his opponent, yet none could harm the hunter. Perplexed, Arjuna thought, “Who is this being, whose brilliance surpasses all? Could he be Indra, Kubera, or even Shiva himself? No mere tribesman could withstand my celestial weapons. My arrows fail as good counsel falls on the wicked—wasted and fruitless. His shafts pierce me with divine energy. Surely, he is no ordinary being.” Determined to fulfil his warrior’s duty, Arjuna loosed sacred arrows once granted by Agni at Khandava, yet even those dissolved in vain. Amazed, he leapt forward with his sword, but it vanished from his grasp. Stones, trees, and his mightiest blows—all proved futile. At last, he grappled with the hunter barehanded. The earth trembled as the two contended, and all beings watched the valour of Arjuna. Then, with a single strike, Shiva felled him to the ground, and Arjuna lay senseless in pain.
When he awoke, the hunter stood revealed in his true form—Shiva, Lord of Lords, radiant with matted locks crowned by the crescent moon, his throat darkened by poison, his robe the hide of an elephant, a serpent wound about his arm, and the trident gleaming in his hand. The serene Parvati stood by his side, her smile soft as dawn. Shiva spoke: “O Arjuna, peerless in courage and steadfast in penance, I am pleased with your devotion and valour. No king upon earth equals you in bravery. Behold with divine vision my cosmic form.”
Overwhelmed, Arjuna bowed low, filled with reverence. He beheld the infinite majesty of the Lord, before whom gods and demons alike bowed in adoration—the source of creation, preservation, and dissolution. His voice, trembling with devotion, rose in praise: “O Mahadeva, wealth of the universe, cause of all that exists, sustainer of Indra’s power and guardian of celestial strength! The merits of all good deeds dwell in your being. Your third eye of fire shattered the pride of Daksha’s sacrifice and consumed desire incarnate, Manmadha. The wise meditate upon your boundless spirit and learn knowledge through action, wisdom through contemplation. You are the pulse of creation, the soul of the cosmos, the unfading light that dwells in all. Parvati, your consort, is the power that moves life itself. You have woven the universe from the threads of earth, air, sky, water, fire, moon, soul, and time. You, O eternal One, wear the cycles of existence as your ornament. You are the God of gods, the awakener of the slumbering soul, the refuge of the pure and wise. The sages—Bhargava, Agastya, Kutsa—ceaselessly praise you. Ganga adorns your head; celestial beings sing your glory; Gandharvas and Siddhas flourish by your grace. O Blue-throated Lord, forgive my ignorance, for thinking you a mortal hunter, I dared to fight you.”
Shiva, full of compassion, raised Arjuna by the hand and said, “O Dhananjaya, your courage pleases me beyond measure. In ancient times you were Nara, the companion of Narayana. Together, you performed austerities in Badarivana, and your divine essence still sustains the worlds. The Gandeeva you wield once belonged to you in ages past when you aided Indra in vanquishing demons. I had concealed it by my power; now take it again.”
Arjuna bowed low, saying, “O Lord of all, bestow upon me your divine Pasupathastra, the weapon that none can withstand.” Shiva, gracious and mighty, granted him the Pasupatha and the Brahmasira, saying, “These weapons are beyond mortal grasp; their power can unmake worlds. Use them with sacred care, sanctify them before release, and withdraw them upon fulfillment, else they shall devour creation itself.”
Thus blessed, Arjuna stood radiant, sanctified by Shiva’s grace. Few, not even Indra, Kubera, Varuna, or Yama, knew the full mystery of these divine arms. Henceforth he was hailed as Dhananjaya, beloved of Shiva, chosen to alter the destiny of the Bharata race and to echo through the corridors of time as the warrior who earned the favour of the Great Lord Himself.
