However, this meditated suicide was not fated to be accomplished. The Daityas and Danavas interfered, “knowing that if the king died, their party would be weakened.” By means of certain rites and sacrifices they called into being “a strange goddess with mouth wide open,” who carried Duryodhana into their presence at night. The Daityas and Danavas explained to the dejected king that he was of more than human origin, and their especial ally. They undertook to help him in his struggles with the Pandavas, and promised him a complete triumph over his rivals. Cheered by these assurances, the would be suicide abandoned his purpose, resumed his royal position and, emulating the Pandavas, performed a great and costly sacrifice, known as the Vaishnava. To this important rite Duryodhana insultingly invited his cousins, who prudently declined the invitation on the plea that the period of their exile was not yet completed.
Notwithstanding the recent defeat of Karna by the Gandharvas, and his precipitate flight from the field of battle, there seems to have been a lurking dread of his prowess amongst the friends of the Pandavas. Indra, the god of heaven, determined therefore to render him less formidable, by depriving him of his native coat of golden mail and the celestial ear-rings with which he was born. For this purpose he presented himself before Karna in the guise of a Brahman, and asked him for his armour and ear-rings. Now Karna had made a vow never to refuse anything to a Brahman, and was thus placed on the horns of a cruel dilemma. However, he had been forewarned by his own father, the sun-god, of Indra’s intentions, and had been advised to ask for an infallible weapon in exchange for his armour and ear-rings. Recognizing the god of heaven under his Brahmanical disguise, Karna preferred his request, which was granted with conditions which made it almost nugatory. Karna peeled off his natural armour, which act, by Indra’s favour, left no scar upon his person. “And Sakra (Indra),” says the poet, “having thus beguiled Karna, but made him famous in the world thought, with a smile, that the business of the sons of Pandu had already been completed.” The Pandavas were naturally elated, and the Kauravas depressed, when the news of these events reached them. Though the sons of Pandu had received repeated assurances that they would ultimately triumph over their enemies, they were, it seems, subject to frequent fits of somewhat unreasonable depression; so Vyasa, ever devoted to the interests of the heroes, visited them in their forest-home, and consoled Yudhisthira once more by the prediction that, after the thirteenth year of exile had expired, he would regain his kingdom and his influence in the world.
The twelfth year of exile was now drawing to a close; the thirteenth year, it will be remembered, was to be passed by the Pandavas in disguise in some city or other. Their last experience in the woods was as wonderful as any they had previously gone through. A wild stag carried away on its branching antlers the sticks with which a Brahman ascetic was wont to kindle his fire. The five brothers were appealed to by the hermit in his trouble, and pursued the animal, but could neither kill it nor run it down. Overcome with fatigue and thirst they sat down to take rest. One climbed a tree to look-out for signs of water, and having discovered them, Nakula was sent to fetch water for the party. Not far away he found a pleasant pond, but was warned by the commanding voice of some unseen being not to touch the water. He was too thirsty to give heed to the injunction and, proceeding to drink of the crystal spring, fell down dead. Wondering at Nakula’s prolonged absence, Sahadeva set out to look for him and, coming upon the pond, heard the warning voice. He, too, disregarded it, and suffered the same penalty as his brother had done. Arjuna and Bhima in turn went through the same experiences with the same sad result. At last the wise Yudhisthira came upon the scene; he prudently refrained from touching the water when warned against doing so, and entered into conversation with the aërial voice, which now took an embodied form,—that of a mighty Yaksha. This being of terrible aspect, interrogated the king upon a number of important points, and receiving satisfactory answers,[88] revealed himself to Yudhisthira as his father, Dharma, god of justice. He then restored the dead Pandavas to life, and bestowed this boon upon them that, during the thirteenth year of their exile, if they even travelled over the entire earth in their proper forms, no one in the three worlds would be able to recognize them.
The twelfth year was now nearly completed, and the brothers left the woods resolved to spend the next twelve months in the city of Virata, which seems to have been close at hand. Before entering the city they had to conceal their weapons in order to avoid detection (for they do not seem to have placed implicit confidence in the boon granted by Dharma). Just outside the city they came upon a cemetery with a gigantic Sami tree. To the topmost boughs of this tree they fastened their weapons. They also hung a corpse on the tree that people might avoid it. This action of theirs was evidently noticed, for the poet tells us that, on being asked by the shepherds and “cowherds regarding the corpse, those repressors of foes said unto them, ‘This is our mother, aged one hundred and eighty years. We have hung up her dead body, in accordance with the custom observed by our forefathers.’”
On the way Yudhisthira, ever anxious for divine help, invoked the goddess Durga in terms which reveal at once the attributes of the goddess and the Hindu poet’s idea of the most suitable expressions to be employed in addressing a female divinity. “Salutations to thee, O giver of boons.... Salutations to thee, O thou of four hands and four faces, O thou of fair round hips and deep bosom, O thou that wearest bangles made of emeralds and sapphires, O thou that bearest excellent braces on thy upper arm.... Thou art the only female in the universe that possessest the attribute of purity. Thou art decked with a pair of well-made ears graced with excellent rings. O goddess thou shinest with a face that challengeth the moon in beauty! With an excellent diadem and beautiful braid, with robes made of the bodies of snakes, and with also the brilliant girdle round thy hips thou shinest like the Mandara Mountain encircled with snakes! Thou shinest also with peacock-plumes standing erect on thy head, and thou hast sanctified the celestial regions by adopting the vow of perpetual maidenhood. It is for this, O thou that hast slain the Buffalo-Asura, that thou art praised and worshipped by the gods for the protection of the three worlds! O thou foremost of all deities, extend to me thy grace, show me thy mercy and be thou the source of blessings to me! Thou art Jaya and Vijaya, and it is thou that givest victory in battle! Grant me victory, O goddess, and give me boons also at this hour of distress. Thy eternal abode is on Vindhya, that foremost of mountains, O Kali! O Kali thou art the great Kali, ever fond of wine and meat and animal sacrifice. Capable of going everywhere at will and bestowing boons on thy devotees, thou art ever followed in thy journeys by Brahma and the other gods,”[89] etc., etc.
“Thus praised by the son of Pandu, the goddess showed herself unto him,” and promised the exiles that, through her grace, they would remain unrecognized, either by the Kurava spies or the inhabitants of the city, as long as they resided in Virata.
Under such favourable auspices and protection, the Pandavas and their joint-wife entered Virata. Yudhisthira presented himself before the Rajah, and was engaged as a companion and teacher of dice-playing, in which art, as the reader will remember, he received special instruction from a Rishi in the woods of Kamyaka. Bhima was taken on as superintendent of the cooks, being it seems especially clever in preparing curries. Arjuna, who personated a eunuch, was appointed music and dancing-master to the ladies, having learned those accomplishments in Indra’s heaven. Nakula was taken on as master of the horse, and Sahadeva, who was skilled in milking and managing kine, as superintendent of the cattle. Draupadi professed to be a Sairindhri, or maid-servant, ready to serve anybody who would maintain her. The queen chanced to see Draupadi and took her into her service, although she felt and expressed some reluctance to have about her person a woman of such an attractive appearance. The Rani apparently had her suspicions about Draupadi, to whom she candidly expressed her opinion that she was too beautiful to be a servant, “for,” said she, “your heels are not prominent and your thighs touch one another. And your intelligence is great, and your navel deep, and your words solemn. And your great toes, and bust, and hips, and toe-nails, and palms, are all well-developed.” The Rani also naïvely added: “What man will be able to resist thy attractions? Surely, O thou of well-rounded hips, O damsel of exquisite charms, beholding thy form of superhuman beauty, King Virata is sure to forsake me and will turn to thee with his whole heart.” But the fair wife of the five Pandavas seems to have allayed the Rani’s natural jealousy and fear, by assuring her that she was watched over by Gandharvas, and that if anyone attempted to make improper advances to her the Gandharvas would put an end to him. However, the Rani’s anxiety was fully justified by after events. Her brother, Kechaka, smitten with the charms of the new maid-servant, prevailed upon his sister, by his importunities, to send Draupadi to his house on the pretext of fetching some wine from his stock. Draupadi went as directed to the house of the Rani’s brother; but, on his making insulting proposals to her, she made her escape from him, and fled direct to the king’s council chamber, followed by the baffled and enraged Kechaka, who seized her by the hair of her head before the assembled courtiers and shamefully kicked the beautiful lady in the presence of the king and his attendants. The Rajah would not interfere, and Bhima, who was present[90] and boiling with suppressed indignation, was restrained by the command of his elder brother from taking notice of the affair. But Draupadi was not to be pacified. Bent on having revenge, she went at dead of night to Bhima, and heaped reproaches upon him and his brothers; and well she might, for all the degrading insults she had had to endure while they looked tamely on. Between them they planned that Draupadi should pretend to yield to Kechaka’s desires, and should appoint a secret meeting with him, when Bhima should be her substitute, and kill the man who had insulted and ill-used her. The plan was successfully carried out. A terrible fight took place between Kechaka and Bhima. The latter at length slew his antagonist by whirling him swiftly round his head and dashing him against the ground. He then broke all his bones into small pieces, formed his body into a great ball of flesh, and brought Draupadi to behold the complete vengeance he had taken upon her hated persecutor. To wreak their malice on the person they believed to be the cause of Kechaka’s death, his kinsmen seized Draupadi, “of faultless limbs,” who was found leaning against a pillar hard by the scene of the grim revenge, and carried her off outside the city walls with the intention of burning her with the dead man’s body. In her distress she cried aloud for help, and Bhima, in disguise, came to her rescue. Panic-stricken at the sight of this supposed Gandharva, the men who had assembled at the cremation ground fled for their lives, but were pursued by Bhima, who killed a great number of them.
Of course this event created an immense sensation, and even the king feared to speak to Draupadi, while the Rani only ventured to ask her to leave Virata. But Draupadi begged permission to stay just a few days longer, assuring the Rani that her Gandharva husbands would yet be of great service to the king. Shortly after the occurrences just related, and as a consequence of the death of Kechaka, who was a man of great note and generalissimo of Rajah Virata’s forces, Suçarman, King of the Tregartas, an old enemy of Virata’s, thinking it a favourable opportunity, proposed a raid into his territory for the purpose of plunder. The Kauravas willingly agreed to make a separate but simultaneous attack upon their neighbour. When intelligence of the inroad into his territory reached Virata, he hastened to repel the invasion, taking in his train his servants Yudhisthira, Bhima, Nakula, and Sahadeva, who volunteered to fight for him. The Tregartas and Matsyas soon came into conflict, and Virata was, after a bloody fight, taken captive by Suçarman, but was rescued by the Pandavas who, as usual, performed prodigies of valour.
Meanwhile the Kauravas made an unexpected attack in another direction and began carrying off the royal herds. There was no one at the capital who could go out to oppose them—the troops being all away with the king—but the king’s son, Uttara, ventured out against the invaders with only Arjuna as his charioteer. At sight of the forces arrayed against him and the mighty heroes who led them, Uttara’s courage failed him, and leaping off his chariot he fled from the field, but was brought back by Arjuna who, directing him to take the reins, boldly resolved to give battle to the enemy. After providing himself with the famous and deadly weapons he had concealed a year previously in the Sami tree near the cemetery, he went out alone, with Uttara as his charioteer, to attack the Kaurava host. All the redoubtable heroes of the party were present that day. Old Bhisma the terrible, and well skilled Drona with his mighty son Açwatháman, and Kripa and Karna the famous offspring of Kunti and the day-god. There too, arrayed in all the glittering panoply of war, were the formidable Duryodhana and his brother Dusçasana, with the other proud princes of Dhritarashtra’s race. But Arjuna alone, armed with his wonderful bow, Gándiva, completely defeated them all in one of those incomprehensible battles which delight the Hindu bard but bewilder the European reader. In the unfortunate rank and file of the Kaurava host the slaughter caused by Arjuna was prodigious; but not a single one of the leading heroes engaged in conflict that day was killed, or even seriously incommoded—although each of them, including Arjuna himself, was pierced by scores of deadly arrows.
The defeated Kauravas, of course, recognized their conqueror; but the stipulated period of exile was now fully completed, and the enforced truce was at an end.