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Victories and Victims, Arjuna Counts

Check the theme here: Pandava Mahaprasthana

***

The cool breeze of the Himalayan foothills was a balm to his sunburnt skin. Arjuna breathed the chilly air and felt a sense of peace. He traveled the same path many decades ago to meet his birth father, Indra, and train under him. It was in the Himalayas that he reunited with his brothers and wife after staying in swarga for five long years. Now, nearing the end of their Mahaprasthana, they came to the same region.

Though their initial plan was to stay at Mansarovar, Yudhistira wanted to see if they could climb Mount Kailasa for the last time. After a bit of back and forth, Draupadi and the twins agreed. Arjuna could see that they weren’t eager for it. He knew he felt the same. It would be better to die in a cozy ashram by the celestial lake, but if his elder brother wanted to climb a mountain, they would. Moreover, what could be better than breathing their last on Kailasa, Shiva’s beloved mountain?

Arjuna waved the sturdy stick in his hands, still missing the majestic Gandiva. He understood he had to return it to Agni, who would give it back to Varuna. However, the bow was an extension of his arm for over six and a half decades. Setting it in the bubbling red waters of Lauhitya was like cutting off a limb.

He told himself they did not need it. Arjuna hadn’t lost a duel or a fight with or without the Gandiva. Though Mahadeva had gifted him the Pasupata astra, Arjuna fought the war without using it. The astra was more like a blessing from Shiva, an assurance that he would be on their side and guide them to a win. Arjuna was also called Vijaya because he had only victories to his name. Shiva had ensured his streak continued. However, it came at a price.

“Abhimanyu, Iravat, Srutakirti… my sons!” Arjuna murmured, blinking hard to wipe his tears. He hadn’t even known Ulupi gave birth to his son. He met Iravat in swarga when the young Naga prince came and introduced himself. They spent two days together and then a week during the war. That was all Arjuna got with a son he hardly knew. He steeled himself, but Abhimanyu’s death broke him. Before he could recover, Ashwatthama had killed the other five in their sleep.

Arjuna was grateful that his other son, Babruvahana, was alive and his grandson, Parikshit, lived for over forty years. Yet, it hurt. What use were victories when most of his loved ones were dead?

***

“Bhima!!!”

“Arjuna!!”

“Help!!”

The faint cries for help reached them deep inside the forest. Arjuna and the twins looked at each other and ran, trying to follow the direction of the cries.

“Yudhi!”

“Nakula!”

“Sahadeva!”

“Draupadi is in danger,” Nakula whispered without pausing his run.

“What happened? Her voice is getting fainter.” Sahadeva replied.

“Maharani!” Bhima bellowed. Arjuna hoped his call would reach Draupadi and she would respond.

“Bhima! Helpp!”

They turned to the north and ran that way with Yudhistira following behind. He was carrying the deer they hunted to feed the sixty-odd ascetics and others who lived with them. Throughout the exile, a handful of servants and fifty ascetics stayed nearby. They refused to leave the Pandavas, and Yudhistira was glad for their company.

“Draupadi!” Arjuna called when he could hear the hooves of horses and chariot wheels.

“There!” Sahadeva pointed at the dust that rose at a distance. Some soldiers stood in between, looking uncertain.

“Attack!” a man ordered.

Arrows whizzed at them.

Bhima roared and charged at the small group of soldiers blocking the path. He tackled whoever was within reach. While Nakula and Sahadeva shot arrows at the soldiers, Arjuna aimed at the chariot’s flagpole. His arrows could travel the longest distance. A few seconds after the twang of his Gandiva, the arrow hit the moving flagpole.

“Arjuna!!” Draupadi cried. He could sense a touch of relief in her voice.

“We are coming!” He yelled.

Meanwhile, Yudhistira spotted their purohit, the seventy-year-old Dhaumya. He was limping towards them in urgency.

“That man… he kidnapped Maharani. She fought, but he was too strong.”

“Who, Guruji?” Yudhistira asked. He set the deer carcass aside to carry the purohit.

“Sindhu Raja,”

“Jayadratha…” Bhima bellowed.

Arjuna shot another arrow towards the chariot.

“Argghh!”

Sahadeva ran forward, dodging the remaining soldiers.

“Do you want to get killed or save your lives?” Nakula asked the soldiers, giving them a chance to escape. It would also save time to reach Draupadi.

The soldiers stopped for a second. They dropped their bows and scattered in random directions. By then, Sahadeva was holding a limping Draupadi. Bhima rushed forward and took her into his arms. She had a split lip and a swollen cheek. There were blood splatters on her saree.

“All that blood! We’ll kill him!” Bhima declared.

“This is his blood. I attacked him but…” she whispered, resting her head against Bhima’s shoulder and looking at Arjuna. “Don’t let him go.”

He nodded.

“Wait for me,” Bhima said, shifting Draupadi into Nakula’s arms.

“Arjuna, Bhima! Don’t kill him. Bring him to us alive.” Yudhistira said when they were about to take off.

Arjuna gave a terse nod. They could discuss the details later.

It took him and Bhima a while to catch up, but they did.

“There!” Bhima pointed.

Arjuna let out three arrows in succession. They shot through the air and hit the chariot wheels, breaking them. The chariot swayed and broke down. Jayadratha jumped down and took off in a run. However, he was no match for them.

Arjuna shot another arrow that pierced Jayadratha’s leg, and he fell to the ground with a cry.

Bhima pounced on him and rained blows so quickly that his fist was a blur of movement. He smashed Jayadratha’s face into the ground when Arjuna remembered Yudhistira’s words.

“Bhima, stop!” He said. “We have to take him back alive.”

“Nonsense. Did you see her face? He did that to her.” Bhima growled.

“His face looks worse. We’ll give him more beatings, but keep him alive.” Arjuna said, as he joined his brother to take a shot at Jayadratha.

When the raja looked like he would die, they stopped. Bhima swung his semi-conscious body over his shoulder.

Back at the ashram, Sahadeva was applying sandalwood paste to Draupadi’s swollen cheek. Yudhistira was wrapping a cloth around her sprained ankle while Nakula was treating the purohit’s wounds.

Bhima threw the battered Jayadratha at Draupadi’s feet and said. “Tell me to kill him, Maharani.”

Draupadi looked at the moaning body on the ground and then at Yudhistira and Sahadeva. With a sigh, she shook her head. “We can’t kill him, Bhima.”

“Why? Any man who touches a woman without her permission doesn’t deserve to live.”

Arjuna knew why. Jayadratha wasn’t any other king. He was Duryodhana’s brother-in-law, the husband of Duhsala, the only daughter of Dhritarashtra and Gandhari. Killing him would give Duryodhana a chance to attack them with a full army.

“We are not in a position to fight an entire army, Bhima. Duryodhana will use this opportunity to achieve what he always wanted—to eliminate us,” Yudhistira explained.

“Arjuna and I can defeat them,” Bhima replied, indignant.

Draupadi once again shook her head. “Not now, Bhima. You will face them in a proper war with your own armies, weapons, and armor.”

“She is right,” Arjuna said, vowing in his heart to kill Jayadratha in the war when the opportunity arose.

“Fine! He needs a lesson.” Bhima muttered, kicking Jayadratha’s shin when he tried to move.

“Shave his head and mustache,” Nakula suggested.

Arjuna removed an arrow from his quiver and did that. He wasn’t gentle and left as many nicks and cuts as possible.

Then, they made Jayadratha apologize to Draupadi and shoved him from their ashram. The Sindu raja left, limping, his blood creating a trail behind him.

That was the end, or so they thought. Arjuna hadn’t forgotten his vow either, but facing Bhishma, the grandsire, as his opponent, disturbed him. If not for Krishna’s advice and support, Arjuna wouldn’t have known what to do when the momentary sense of anguish and disillusionment dulled his senses. Krishna’s words were rays of bright light, dispelling the fog in his brain. Yet, it took him more than a week to set his emotions aside and fight Bhishma. When the grandsire had no issues killing the Pandava army and allies, why was he hesitating?

Still, as Bhishma fell to his arrows at the end of the tenth day, Arjuna felt tears slide down his face. When the old warrior asked him for water, Arjuna knew what to do. He shot an arrow into the earth for a fresh stream of pure water, which directly poured into Bhishma’s open mouth.

“In a way, the war has just begun.” Krishna reminded them that night.

Arjuna nodded. He knew Karna would join the Kaurava army now that Bhishma was out of action. He had vowed to kill Karna, and he would do it. Unlike his love for his grandfather and acharyas, Arjuna had no soft corner for that man.

On the thirteenth day, Arjuna was on a high after wiping out a good portion of the Samsaptakas who challenged him. However, a sense of unease remained. Little did he know he would hear earth-shattering news at his camp!

“Abhimanyu… he entered the chakravyuha but couldn’t come out,” Yudhistira whispered.

Arjuna’s vision swam. His darling son, a sixteen-year-old who could take on any warrior, was killed in the chakravyuha. Why hadn’t he taught him how to exit when he could? Arjuna moaned, falling to the ground. He blamed himself for it until Yudhistira mentioned Jayadratha’s name.

The name echoed in his ears. If only he had killed Jayadratha during the first few days of the war instead of feeling conflicted about fighting his cousins!

Arjuna stood and poured water into his palm. “Now, from this spot, I, Arjuna, the son of Pandu, vow to kill Jayadratha tomorrow before the day ends. If I fail to keep my word, I will jump into a burning fire and offer my life to the devas.”

Krishna was furious. He admonished Arjuna for announcing his intentions. It didn’t matter to Arjuna. He wanted his prey to know what awaited him. That man would spend the next few hours in constant terror and die for his crimes.

With Krishna’s guidance, Arjuna kept his vow. He felt a slight sense of relief when his arrow sliced through Jayadratha’s head and carried it away from the battlefield.

It didn’t bring Abhimanyu back from the dead. It didn’t keep his other son alive. Yet, it mattered. Arjuna made sure there were fewer leeches on the earth, and the sacrifice of his loved ones wasn’t in vain.

***

“We should stop here. The blizzard looks dangerous.” Yudhistira said.

“It’s better to seek shelter when we have a chance,” Sahadeva replied, his words half carried away by the wind that turned fierce in an instant.

Arjuna pushed the thoughts of the past and focused on the present. His brothers formed a circle around Draupadi as she hugged the dog to her chest. He stepped into his place in the circle and shielded his eyes to look around like the others.

“There! I see something like a cave.” Bhima pointed.

“We should make it there before it hits. Come!” Nakula said. He and Bhima led them in that direction. Arjuna took the dog from Draupadi so that she could hold Sahadeva and Yudhistira’s arms and walk against the pushing winds.

They were panting and huffing by the time they reached the dark cave. Arjuna was the last one to step inside when a forceful gust of snow dust swirled and rose like a tornado.

“That was close!”

“We are safe, though.”

Arjuna nodded. It was very much the story of their lives.

***

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  1. You have woven a chapter filled with sorrowful ponderings. And this chapter feels like a reality check, so many lines struck a chord!

    1. Thank you so much, dear! As we get closer to the end, the chapters get heavier.

  2. Arjuna’s internal conflict about his victories and the cost of those wins is so raw and relatable. The way he reflects on his sons—Abhimanyu, Iravat, and Srutakirti—and the pain of their losses, especially Abhimanyu’s, is gut-wrenching. I can’t imagine what it’s like to have such a legacy of triumphs but also carry the weight of so much grief. The moment when he parts with Gandiva, his trusted companion for over six decades, felt like a symbolic shedding of his warrior identity. And then, the sudden danger to Draupadi, hearing her cries for help, brought back the urgency and chaos of their past battles. I was on the edge of my seat, hoping they’d reach her in time. This story beautifully captures the complexities of heroism, loss, and the enduring bonds of family.

    1. Thank you so much, Romila! They won many wars, but they also lost precious people.