Nakula first reached the lonely lake, stooped to drink its clear water, when an unseen spirit’s voice rose from the air, saying, “O prince, this lake is mine. If you desire its water, answer my questions with humility.” He heeded nothing, entered the waters, drank deeply, and feel senseless upon the bank. When long had passed and Nakula had not returned, Dharmanandana spoke to Sahadeva, “Seek your brother and bring him back, and fetch water also.” Sahadeva hastened thither and, to his dismay, found Nakula stretched unconscious upon the ground. Wondering what calamity befell him, yet overcome by thirst, he neared the lake. Then the invisible warned him also, “O righteous one, this lake is under my guardianship. Answer my questions before you drink.” Disregarding the warning, Sahadeva drank and fell lifeless like a young arjuna-tree swept down by a fierce storm.
When neither brother returned, Dharmaraja sent Arjuna next, saying, “Time has grown late; discover what harm befell them and bring water.” Arjuna came swiftly, and grief seized him when he beheld both sons of Madri fallen upon the ground. Searching the four quarters yet seeing none who might have struck them down, he, too, afflicted by thirst, advanced to the waters. At once, the hidden voice cried, “This lake is mine. One who approaches in pride shall meet death. If you desire its waters, answer my questions.” Anger flared in Arjuna, who cried, “You lurk like a thief and speak harshly. I will silence you.” Stringing his arrows toward the sound, he lost them, yet they struck nothing, and only the same disembodied command replied. Distrusting the warning, he entered the water, drank, and felt senseless as the others.
Then Dharmaraja, heavy with fear, said to Bhima, “My brothers return not though long has passed. Seek them and bring water.” Bhima, slayer of Kirmira, strode through the wild forest and soon discovered the three brothers lying cold and still. Sorrow filled him, and he thought, “Men cannot do this. Perhaps some Kinnera, some deity, or the servants of the Three Worlds have wrought it.” His mighty spirit unshaken, he approached the water. The aerial voice rang out, “O mighty one, why do you dare my lake? Answer my questions if you are able.” But Bhima, unheeding, drank and fell as the others.
At last, Dharmaraja, unable to bear the delay, set forth alone through the dense and trackless forest, pondering many fearful possibilities. All around him rose stones, thorny thickets, caverns, and tangled vines. Lions and tigers, bison and boars roamed freely, and their mingled cries shook the heart. Yet he, steadfast in merit, pressed onward until he reached the lake, and grief stunned him when he found all his brothers lying senseless on the bare earth. “Bhima, Arjuna, Nakula, Sahadeva—jewels of the Puru line, strong of limb, pure of heart, guardians of righteousness—fallen thus!” His mind trembled like a dry leaf in restless wind, his face grew pale, and hot tears clouded his sight. Staggering with sorrow, he looked about, yet found no trace of struggle, no footprints, no mark of violence. “These are warriors whom none can subdue. How come they to this? The sons of Dhritarashtra are cunning, and Shakuni’s crooked counsel aids them; yet even they could not overcome these brothers unseen. The water cannot be poisoned, for its faces yet shine with natural radiance. What strange power is this?”
Then thoughts of his mother troubled him: “Kunti sorrows already for our hardships. If I return alone, what shall I say when she asks, ‘Where are your brothers, with whom you entered the forest?’ And what shall I answer when our elders—Drona, Bhishma, Vidura, Kripa—enquire?” Thirst gnawed at him, and he approached the water. At once, the unseen spoke: “O son of Dharma, I am a crane, guardian of this lake. Your brothers ignored my warning and lie thus upon the ground. If you too disdain my command, you shall follow them. Answer my questions and take what water you will.” Dharmaraja looked upward and said, “You are no common bird. Some deity—perhaps Shiva, Agni, or Vayu—stands here in disguise, for my heroic brothers could not be laid low by mortals. Reveal yourself and your purpose.” The voice replied, “I am a Yaksha. Your brothers slighted my words and were struck down.” Then the Yaksha revealed himself—towering like a tall palmyra tree, his radiance shaking the elements, his fangs gleaming, his whole form shining with unearthly splendour. He said, “Without my leave, none may drink of this lake and live. You have acted wisely. Answer my questions and be spared.” Dharmaraja answered, “In the vast ocean of knowledge, I am but a small swimmer, yet within my measure I shall reply. Ask what you will.”
The Yaksha asked, “What drives the sun? Who accompanies him? What causes his setting? What is his foundation?” Dharmaraja replied, “Brahma drives the sun; the gods accompany him; righteousness causes his setting; truth is his foundation.” Again, the Yaksha asked, “What makes one a Vedic scholar? What brings glory? What gives aid? What makes one wise?” Dharmaraja answered, “Study brings Vedic knowledge; penance confers glory; boldness gives aid; service to elders yields wisdom.” The Yaksha asked, “What grants divinity to a Brahmin? What purifies him? What stains him? What brings mortality?” Dharmaraja said, “Vedic recitation grants divinity; steadfast duty brings purity; misconduct stains him; impurity leads to fear and death.” The Yaksha asked, “Who is living though dead?” He answered, “He who eats without sharing with guests, gods, and ancestors is the living dead.”
“What is heavier than earth, higher than the heavens, swifter than the wind, and more numerous than grass?” asked the Yaksha. Dharmaraja replied, “Mother is heavier than earth; father is higher than heaven; mind is swifter than wind; worry grows more than grass.” Then the Yaksha asked, “What sleeps without closing its eyes? What is born yet lifeless? What has form yet no heart? What moves swiftly?” Dharmaraja answered, “Fish sleep with eyes open; an egg is born yet lifeless; stone has form without heart; a stream runs swiftly.”
Next came, “Who is kin to traveller, to patient, to householder, and to the dead?” He answered, “Merchants are kin to travellers; physicians to patients; the good wife to householders; charity to the dead.” Again, “What is the root of righteousness? Of glory? What path leads to heaven? What is the refuge of comfort?” Dharmaraja answered, “Compassion is the root of righteousness; charity is the root of glory; truth leads to heaven; good conduct is the refuge of ease.”
Again, he was asked, “Who is a man’s soul? Who is his God-given companion? What sustains his life? What makes him renowned?” He replied, “Son is a man’s soul; wife his divine companion; rain sustains life; charity wins renown.” The Yaksha asked, “What is the highest virtue? What yields reward unceasingly? What must be abandoned for happiness? With whom does love not wane?” Dharmaraja replied, “Non-violence is the highest virtue; sacrifice yields continual reward; abandoning pride brings happiness; relation with the noble never breaks.”
“What guides the world? What yields water? What yields food? What is poison? What is the right time for ancestral rites?” Dharmaraja answered, “The good guide the world; sky yields water; earth yields food; a Brahmin’s wealth is poison; the arrival of Brahmins is the proper time for ancestral rites.” Then, “What must one relinquish to become beloved, sorrowless, wealthy, and content?” He replied, “Let go of ego to be beloved; of anger to be free of sorrow; of miserliness to become wealthy; of greed to be content.”
Finally, the Yaksha asked, “Who is called purusha, and who is truly rich and radiant?” Dharmaraja replied, “He whose glory spans earth and sky is purusha; he who views pleasure and pain, past and future alike, with equal mind is rich and radiant.”
Pleased, the Yaksha said, “O great-souled king, your answers reveal wisdom and insight. Choose one brother to be restored to life.” Dharmaraja said, “Let Nakula rise, strong as the arjuna-tree.” Wondering, the Yaksha replied, “Bhima and Arjuna are famed warriors and dearer to you; why ask for Nakula?” Dharmaraja said, “A son of Kunti survives in me; therefore, a son of Madri too must live. I am known as a follower of righteousness, and I shall not abandon it even now.” The Yaksha praised him, saying, “Your virtue is unwavering; therefore, all your brothers shall rise.” And as though waking from deep sleep, the Pandavas stood restored.
Dharmaraja said, “You are no common Yaksha. Reveal your true nature, for you shine like Indra, Kubera, Agni, or Vayu—perhaps you are my divine father himself.” The radiant being replied, “O king, I am Yama, lord of righteousness, and you are my son. I came to test your steadfast virtue. Truth, purity, charity, penance, equality, and discernment are my forms. Those who rely on me never stray. Ask any boon.” Dharmaraja bowed low and said, “A Brahmin’s sacred Arani was borne off by a deer; restore it to him.” Yama, pleased, returned the Arani, saying, “Your twelve-year exile is past; the thirteenth year of concealment begins. Choose any form, for none shall recognize you by my boon.” Dharmaraja replied, “Your presence alone fulfils my life. Grant only that my mind dwell forever in virtue, untouched by pride, anger, or ignorance.” The lord granted the boon and vanished. Dharmaraja returned the Arani to the Brahmin, was blessed, and departed.
Thus, as narrated by sage Vaisampayana, shines the noble conduct of the Pandavas in the forest, their trials, their wisdom, and their preparation for the hidden year ahead. Though the Yaksha’s questions seem riddles, they are in truth guiding principles of life—of duty, courtesy, inner purity, and royal conduct—and the luminous answers of Dharmaraja endure as counsel to troubled minds for all ages.
