The pratikamin went quickly to the ladies’ chambers. Standing before Draupadī, he said in a trembling voice, “O Queen, mad- dened by dice, your husband has lost you to Duryodhana. Therefore come with me to Dhṛtarāṣṭra’s assembly, where you will be engaged in some menial work.”

Draupadī stood up swiftly and dismissed the maid who had been tending her hair. Surprised, she said, “O pratikamin, how can this be true? Who would stake his own wife in a gambling match? Surely the king was intoxicated. Could he find nothing else to stake?”

“When he had already lost all his wealth, including his brothers and even himself, he staked you, O blessed princess.”

Draupadī became angry. “Go back to the hall, pratikamin, and ask that gambler who has lost even himself if he was still my lord when I was staked. When I know the answer to this, I shall go with a sorrowful heart.”

The servant assented to Draupadī’s request and returned to the hall. Seeing him return alone, Duryodhana yelled, “Where now is the Pañchāla princess, foolish man?”

“She has sent me back with a question, O King,” the pratikamin replied. “Draupadī has asked whose lord Yudhiṣṭhira was when he staked her in the game? Did he lose himself first or her?”

Yudhiṣṭhira said nothing. He shook his head from side to side, seeming as if demented or deprived of his reason.

Duryodhana smiled slightly. “Let Draupadī come here and ask her question directly to Yudhiṣṭhira. We shall all hear his reply.”

The pratikamin again left the hall. Tears fell from his eyes as he approached Draupadī’s room for the second time. He stood before the queen unable to speak. She asked him what Yudhiṣṭhira had said in reply. With difficulty the servant said, “O princess, the assembly is summoning you. It seems the destruction of the Kurus is close at hand. When the weak-brained Duryodhana wishes to take you before the assembly, he will surely no longer be able to protect his prosperity.”

Draupadī looked with compassion upon the distressed servant. “He who is the great ordainer of the world has ordained this without doubt. Happiness and misery come in turn to both the wise and the unwise. Morality is said, however, to be the highest object in this world. If we preserve morality, it will pour blessings upon us. Let not that morality now abandon the Kurus. Go back, O suta, and speak these words to the virtuous Kuru elders. I am ready to obey whatever command those moral-minded men may give, for they are conversant with all the precepts of virtue.”

The servant folded his palms and bowed his head. He turned and left the queen’s chamber and went again to the hall. Standing before Dhṛtarāṣṭra, he repeated Draupadī’s words. No one replied. Seeing now Duryodhana’s eagerness and Dhṛtarāṣṭra’s complicity, they all sat with downcast faces. Yudhiṣṭhira then said to the servant, “Go to the bitterly weeping Pāñcālī and tell her that she should appear here, even though she is in seclusion and attired in only a single cloth. This is Duryodhana’s command.”

The Pāṇḍavas looked up at the Kuru elders who, even after hearing Yudhiṣṭhira’s words, all remained silent. The brothers could not determine what to do. They were ready to challenge Duryodhana and his one hundred brothers to a fight, but seeing Yudhiṣṭhira still silent, they did not move. Bhīma, however, could barely contain himself, and Arjuna, breathing like a serpent, seemed to be on fire.

Duryodhana laughed, enjoying every moment of his victory. He again addressed the pratikamin. “Go, O suta, and fetch the princess. She now has Yudhiṣṭhira’s order.”

The servant looked perplexed. He was always obedient to Duryodhana but he feared Draupadī’s anger. He spoke hesitantly, “What shall I say to the queen for a third time?”

Duryodhana snorted angrily. He turned to Dushashana. “O brother, this foolish servant is afraid of Bhīma. Go and bring Draupadī here. What can the Pāṇḍavas do now that they have become dependent on our will?”

Dushashana immediately rose and went straight to Draupadī like a dog entering a lion’s den. He said, “Come, O princess, we have won you honestly. Cast aside your modesty and go before your new master Duryodhana. O beautiful lady, now you must accept the Kauravas as your lords.”

Draupadī stood up, weeping loudly. She covered her pale face with her hands and ran toward Gāndhārī’s chambers. Dushashana roared in anger and ran after her. He grabbed hold of her long, wavy hair and forcibly pulled her along with him. As he dragged Draupadī by her bluish locks, the shameless prince recalled how that same hair had been sprinkled with the sanctified water of the Rājasūya. Ignoring her plaintive cries, he pulled her out into the palace passageways. Draupadī spoke to him in a low voice. “O rude one, O wretch, you should not take me before the assembly. How can I appear there in my present condition, dressed only in a single cloth.”

Dushashana laughed. “It does not matter, O Pāñcālī, whether you are attired in one cloth or naked. We have won you and you must now live among our servant women as best you can.”

The Kaurava then dragged the wailing Draupadī into the assembly hall. She prayed piteously to Kṛṣṇa and Arjuna. Dushashana threw her before Duryodhana, where she fell with her cloth in disarray and her hair dishevelled. The Kuru elders could hardly look at her. Bhīṣma, Droṇa and Vidura were unable to maintain their composure and they wept openly. Dhṛtarāṣṭra asked, “What is happening now? Is the Pañchāla princess here?”

Then Draupadī rose up like a flame and addressed the assembly in an angry voice. “All the persons in this assembly are learned in the scriptures and devoted to sacrifice. Some are my elders and gurus. How can I stand before them in this state? The high-souled son of Dharma is bound by the subtle rules of morality. Only those with clear vision can understand those rules. I am therefore unable to admit even an atom of fault in my husband.”

Draupadī looked toward Dhṛtarāṣṭra, her eyes filled with tears. By his side she saw Bhīṣma, Droṇa and Vidura, their faces torn by anguish. Everyone remained silent as she continued to reprimand them. “How do you all say nothing as this wretch drags me into the hall? Surely then you are all of the same mind. Shame on you! The Kurus’ high morality has been destroyed by this act. Droṇa, Bhīṣma, Khattwa and the king have lost their greatness, for none of them condemn this most vile deed.”

Draupadī fell to the floor of the hall, crying in helplessness and distress. The slender-waisted princess glanced at her enraged husbands. They were incensed to see her in such a state, and her glance inflamed them even more. Even the loss of their kingdom and wealth did not pain them as much as Draupadī’s glance, which was full of modesty and anger.

When Dushashana saw Draupadī look at her husbands, however, he again dragged her toward the Kurus. “Slave, slave,” he shouted. Duryodhana, Karṇa and Śakuni all applauded Dushashana and laughed along with him. Apart from those three, everyone else in the hall was afflicted with sorrow to see the princess treated in this way.

Shaking his head, Bhīṣma fought back tears and said to Draupadī, “O blessed lady, knowing that one who has no wealth of his own cannot stake that belonging to others, but knowing also that wives are always at the command of their husbands, I am unable to answer the point you raised. The ways of morality are subtle. Yudhiṣṭhira can abandon the whole world full of wealth, but he will never sacrifice morality. The Pāṇḍava played with Śakuni even though he knew that no one could defeat him at dice. He has staked and lost both himself and you, O princess. Therefore I am confused upon this matter.”

Bhīṣma looked up at Dhṛtarāṣṭra, but the king remained ever silent. Draupadī spoke again, “Yudhiṣṭhira was summoned to this assembly by the king, and although he does not possess skill at dice, he was made to play with a skillful, wicked and deceitful gambler. How then can he be said to have staked anything voluntarily? He has been deprived of his senses by the contrivances of sinful men acting together. This act lacks all propriety and will be condemned by all wise men. Here in this hall are many leaders of the Bharata race. Let them reflect on my words and answer my question.”

Dushashana began to harshly insult Draupadī. She wept grievously and looked toward her helpless husbands. Bhīma was afflicted beyond all endurance. Finally, giving vent to his anger, he said to Yudhiṣṭhira, “Gamblers have in their houses many loose women but they never stake even those women at dice. They always remain kind toward them. You have staked and lost all of our gems, jewels, gold, armors, animals, weapons and whatever other wealth we possessed, including our very selves. Even at this my anger was not excited. But I consider your gambling with Draupadī abominable. Having obtained us as her husbands, this innocent girl does not deserve to suffer in this way. Only because of you is she now being persecuted by these low, despicable, cruel and mean-minded Kurus. Although you are my lord, I can hardly control my anger toward you.”

Bhīma turned his massive shoulders toward the twins. “I shall burn Yudhiṣṭhira’s hands. Sahadeva, bring fire.”

Arjuna quickly caught hold of his brother. “O Bhīma, do not speak in this way. You have never uttered such words before. Your morality has certainly been destroyed by these cruel foes. Do not fulfill our enemies’ wishes. Practice the highest virtue and remain obedient to your elder brother. Remembering a kṣatriya’s duties, he has played today only on the king’s command and against his own desire. Such an act will surely make him famous.”

Bhīma calmed himself. Checked by Arjuna’s reproach, he felt ashamed. “You are right, O Dhanañjaya. Our brother has surely acted in accordance with duty. Had I not known this, I would long ago have snatched his arms and burnt them in a blazing fire.” Both brothers looked at Yudhiṣṭhira in his distress. They knew he felt obliged by the presence of Dhṛtarāṣṭra and Bhīṣma. If those two elders did not speak out against what was happening, then Yudhiṣṭhira would not object to the proceedings.

Duryodhana’s hearty laughter rang out again. He was relishing his cousins’ discomfort. He was especially enjoying Draupadī’s distress, remembering how she had laughed at him in the Mayasabha.

Draupadī buried her head in her hands and wept. Her husbands glared furiously at the insolent Duryodhana, but still the Kuru elders remained silent.

Finally, Dhṛtarāṣṭra’s son, Vikarṇa, spoke out. “O kings, answer Draupadī’s question. If we do not decide a matter referred to us in the royal assembly, then we shall descend into hell. Dhṛtarāṣṭra, Bhīṣma, Vidura--you are the eldest of the Kurus, yet you do not say anything. Why are Droṇa and Kṛpa silent? Let the kings who have assembled here from all directions leave aside their anger and give Draupadī a reply.”

Vikarṇa looked around the assembly, but still no one spoke. He repeatedly asked that Draupadī’s question be answered. Had she been won or not? Was she now the Kauravas’ slave?

The silence in the great hall was broken only by Draupadī’s sobs. After another agonizing minute had passed, Vikarṇa said, “If no one will respond, then I shall say what I consider just and proper. O best of men, it is said that there are four vices to which kings are prone: hunting, drinking, womanizing and gambling. The man addicted to these vices lives by forsaking virtue. Therefore, that which is performed by one under the sway of any of these sins cannot be taken seriously. Madly under the influence of gambling, and urged on by the sinful Śakuni, Yudhiṣṭhira staked this princess. She belongs to all the Pāṇḍavas and was lost after Yudhiṣṭhira had already lost himself. Nor was Yudhiṣṭhira playing the game willingly. Rather, the king invited him here to oblige him to play an unfair match. Considering all this, I say that Draupadī has not been won.”

As Vikarṇa sat down, the assembly was in an uproar. Practically everyone applauded him and censured Śakuni.

Karṇa at once leapt up and waved his huge arms about to silence the assembly. His angry voice boomed. “O Vikarṇa, I have observed many improper things in this assembly, and your words are an example of one of them. Like fire springing from a log, your anger will simply consume you. All the great personalities among the Kurus are silent. Obviously this means they consider Drupada’s daughter fairly won. You are immature. Therefore you rail in anger even though you do not know the laws of morality and speak like a fool. Yudhiṣṭhira has staked her as a fair bet and lost her.”

Karṇa, like Duryodhana, still remembered his humiliation when Draupadī refused to allow him to compete in her svayaṁvara. The pain of that refusal still rankled. “Well,” he thought, “the proud princess is now getting what she deserves.” He turned to the assembly and argued that there was no sin in bringing Draupadī into the hall in her present state. After all, she had already accepted five husbands. What kind of moral woman was she? In his opinion, she was unchaste. He pointed to Draupadī as he spoke. “For such a woman there is nothing wrong even if she is brought naked into an assembly. Indeed, she now belongs to the Kauravas and must obey our command. O Dushashana, why not take off her robes? And remove also the Pāṇḍavas’ royal dress, too. They are no longer kings.”

Bound by morality, the Pāṇḍavas slowly removed their upper garments and threw them down. They sat silently as Dushashana approached the wailing Draupadī. The Kaurava took hold of the end of her cloth and pulled on it forcefully. Draupadī held her sari tightly in an attempt to protect herself, but it was useless. Her strength was nothing compared to Dushashana’s. She looked again at her five husbands. It was obvious that they could not help her. As Dushashana pulled harder, she looked around the hall like a frightened deer assailed by a lion. There was only one person now who could save her: Kṛṣṇa. The Supreme Personality saw everything and was always her shelter. Draupadī fixed her mind on Kṛṣṇa, threw up her hands and cried, “O Govinda! O Keśava! O beloved of the gopīs and Lord of Vṛndāvana! O Janārdana, You are the destroyer of all affliction. I am sinking into the Kuru ocean. O Lord, O soul of the universe, O creator of the world! Save me who am distressed and losing my senses in this evil assembly!”

From where He was seated in Dwārakā, Kṛṣṇa heard Draupadī’s piteous cries. He expanded Himself by His inconceivable power and went swiftly to Hastināpura. By His mystic potency He immediately entered the assembly hall. Without being seen by anyone He provided Draupadī with an unlimited supply of cloth to cover her. Dushashana pulled and pulled at her sari, and as he did so the princess spun around--but he could not disrobe her. There seemed to be no end to her sari. The astonished prince pulled with even more strength, but Draupadī remained covered. Soon a large heap of cloth lay piled on the floor.

Seeing this wonderful event, all the kings praised Draupadī and censured Dushashana. The prince was exhausted from his futile attempt to undress the Pāṇḍavas’ wife. He sat down, perspiring heavily. Bhīma leapt up and raised his arms. “O kings of the world,” he thundered, “listen to my words! I shall now make a vow unlike any that has been made before. Nor shall such a vow be made in future. If I do not forcefully tear open the breast of this sinful wretch on the battlefield and drink his blood, then may I not obtain the path of my ancestors.”

Hearing Bhīma’s terrible words, the kings applauded him and again censured Dushashana. A clamor arose. Shouts of “Shame, shame!” filled the hall.

Vidura once more brought silence to the hall. He turned to Dhṛtarāṣṭra and Bhīṣma. “O learned men, you do not answer Draupadī’s question and thus in this assembly we persecute religion. A distressed person comes to an assembly of good men like a man feeling the heat of a blazing fire. The assembly should extinguish his fire and cool him with truth and morality. The distressed man asks about his rights according to morality and he is entitled to an answer. O King, Vikarṇa has offered one answer to Draupadī’s question according to his own knowledge and judgment. Now you should also reply.”

Bhīṣma, Droṇa and Kṛpa looked expectantly at Dhṛtarāṣṭra. They were unable to tolerate any more from Duryodhana. Still the blind king maintained his silence. Vidura continued, “One who knows the rules of morality yet sits in an assembly without properly answering a question receives a sinful reaction. Listen as I recount the ancient history of Prahlāda and the son of a ṛṣi named Aṅgirāsha.”

Vidura described how Prahlāda’s son, Virocanā, had once quarreled with a ṛṣi named Sudhanva for the sake of a bride. They had both gone to Prahlāda and asked, “Which of us is superior? Answer us truthfully.”

Prahlāda looked at both of them but said nothing. Sudhanva became angry and said, “If you do not answer or if you answer falsely, then your head will break into a hundred pieces.”

Trembling with fear, Prahlāda then consulted the celestial sage Kaśyapa. “O exalted one, tell me what regions are obtained by one who, being asked a question, does not reply or answers falsely.”

Kaśyapa said, “He who knows but does not answer out of temptation, anger or fear is bound by Varuṇa’s thousand nooses. He who is called as witness but who speaks falsely is similarly punished. After one full year, one of the nooses is loosened. Therefore one should speak the truth as he knows it. If virtue, pierced by sin, goes to an assembly, it is the duty of every man there to remove the dart. If they fail to do so, then they will be pierced by that same dart. In an assembly where a censurable act is not rebuked, every member of that assembly is afflicted by sin. Grief will overcome them all in due course.”

After hearing Kaśyapa’s words, Prahlāda said to his son, “Sudhanva is undoubtedly your superior, as much as his father Aṅgirāsha is mine.”

Sudhanva immediately blessed Prahlāda, “As you have spoken the truth without being moved by affection for your son, may he live for one hundred years.”

Vidura concluded, “Hearing this great instruction about religion, let all those present deliberate on what should be done. Draupadī should be given an answer.”

Still there was silence in the hall. Seeing the Kuru elders saying nothing, and considering this tacit approval of her condition, Karṇa spoke to Dushashana. “Take the servant-woman to the inner apartments.”

Dushashana again grabbed Draupadī’s hair and began to drag the helpless princess, who was trembling and crying piteously to her husbands. Pulling herself free from his grasp, she addressed the assembly in tearful words. “Wait a little, O worst of men. I have not as yet offered my respects to my superiors. Forgive me. It was not my fault as I was forcibly dragged here by this low wretch, this disgrace of the Kurus. The morality of the Kuru house has been lost forever today. Never before have we heard of a married woman being brought in this state before an assembly. She who was never before seen even by the wind or the sun has now been exposed before all men. Indeed I am being publicly persecuted by wicked men.”

Dhṛtarāṣṭra listened with his head bowed as she went on. “What could be more distressing for me than that? Although I am high-born and chaste, the Pāṇḍavas’ wife and Kṛṣṇa’s friend, I am nevertheless dragged into this assembly. Where is the religion of all these kings? O Kauravas, answer me truthfully. Am I, Dharmarāja’s lawful wife, born in the same order to which he belongs, to be considered a servant woman or not? I shall be obedient to your command. O Kurus, this despicable destroyer of Kuru fame is cruelly dragging me. I cannot tolerate it any longer. Tell me what I should do and I will happily obey you.”

Bhīṣma shed tears as Draupadī spoke. He looked at her with compassion and said, “O blessed lady, I have said that the ways of religion are subtle. Even wise men find it hard to understand them. Sometimes what a great and powerful man calls religion is accepted as such, even though it may not normally be so. What a weak man says, no matter how moral it may seem, is generally disregarded. From the importance of the matter you have raised, its intricacy and subtlety, I find myself unable to answer you.”

Bhīṣma stopped and looked around at the silent assembly. Turning back to Draupadī he continued, “It is certain that as the Kurus have become slaves of greed and folly, our race will soon be destroyed. O Pāñcālī, that even under today’s circumstances you would turn to religion shows how worthy you are and adds glory to our house. Your husbands are equally praiseworthy. They do not deviate from virtue in such difficulty. The Kauravas, however, sit with downcast faces. They look as if they are dead. I do not think they are going to answer you. You should ask your question of Yudhiṣṭhira. He alone should say whether or not you have been won.”

Draupadī wept like a female osprey. Still the kings remained silent. They appeared to be afraid of Duryodhana’s power. The Kaurava prince continued to smile, even after hearing Bhīṣma’s words. Rising, he said to Draupadī, “O Pāñcālī, I agree with Bhīṣma. The answer to your question depends upon your husband. Let the illustrious Yudhiṣṭhira, resembling Indra himself and ever devoted to virtue, state whether or not he acted rightly. If he declares himself to have gambled you away falsely, because he was no longer your lord at the time, I shall free you. I will also free his brothers if he makes the same declaration about them. Let Yudhiṣṭhira tell us first, however, that he lost his discrimination. After Yudhiṣṭhira has spoken, O thin-waisted lady, then you should accept either ourselves or the Pāṇḍavas as your lords. All the Kurus here are floating in the sea of your affliction. They are naturally magnanimous. Therefore, looking at your unfortunate husbands, they are unable to answer your question.”

Again the assembly erupted. Many kings applauded Duryodhana’s words. Others cried out, “Alas!” and “Oh!” But each now turned to look at Yudhiṣṭhira, eager to hear what he would reply.

As the hum of voices gradually died down, Bhīma stood suddenly. His voice filled the hall. “If the high-souled Dharmarāja were not our lord and guru, then we would not pardon the Kuru race. But he is the lord of all our religious and ascetic merits. Indeed, he is the lord of our lives. If he considers us won, then we are won. If it were not so then who is there among mortal creatures on this earth who could escape with their life after touching the hair of the Pañchāla princess? Look at my two arms. They are maces of steel. Having come within their grasp, who could escape? Not even Indra himself! Bound by the ties of virtue, and by the reverence due our elder brother--and because I am being repeatedly urged by Arjuna to remain silent--I do nothing. If but once commanded by Yudhiṣṭhira I would, by means of my slaps alone, kill Dhṛtarāṣṭra’s sinful sons as a lion kills a flock of small animals.”

Hearing Bhīma speak, Bhīṣma, Droṇa and Vidura said with alarm, “Be peaceful, O Bhīma. Anything is possible for you.”

Karṇa then jumped up from his seat. “It seems that Khattwa, Bhīṣma and Droṇa are independent,” he exclaimed, his face red with anger. “They always censure their master and never wish for his prosperity. I shall say what is right in this case. The slave, the son and the wife are always dependent. Whatever they possess belongs to their master. O Draupadī, you are the wife of a slave who is now incapable of possessing anything of his own. Go then to the king’s inner quarters and serve his relatives. Select another husband who will not lose you at gambling. Your husbands are all slaves and cannot be your masters any longer. Obviously Yudhiṣṭhira considers that life and manhood are useless, as he has offered Drupada’s daughter as a stake in the presence of this assembly.”

Bhīma glowered at Karṇa. Breathing heavily, it seemed he was about to leap forward at any moment. Still, he remained obedient to Yudhiṣṭhira. Bound by virtue he did nothing. Looking around as if to burn everything with his blazing eyes, he turned to Yudhiṣṭhira and said, “My lord, I cannot become angry at the words of the suta’s son since we are now slaves. O King, could our enemies ever have spoken in this way in my presence if you had not staked this princess?”

Yudhiṣṭhira sat silently, stunned. Duryodhana laughed and said, “Come, O King, tell us the truth. Is Draupadī won or not?”

Reveling in his cousins’ anguish, Duryodhana smiled at Karṇa. To further insult and incite Bhīma, the Kaurava prince then uncovered his right thigh, which resembled the trunk of an elephant, and showed it to Draupadī. “Sit here upon the lap of your new lord, O princess. What have you to do with the Pāṇḍavas now?”

Bhīma could take no more. He exploded. “Hear this, you wretch! If I do not break that thigh in battle, then let me not attain the regions of my ancestors.” Fire was emanating from every part of Bhīma’s body as he spoke, and his heavy chest rose and fell like the ocean.

Vidura jumped up and addressed the assembly. “O kings, observe the danger we are now in from Bhīma. A calamity threatens to overtake our race. This has been sent by destiny. Dhṛtarāṣṭra’s sons have gambled deceitfully. Now they are quarreling over a woman. This kingdom’s prosperity is at an end. Alas! The Kurus have given way to iniquity. This entire assembly is now polluted by sin. O kings, take to heart the precept I shall declare: having first lost himself, Yudhiṣṭhira was unable to lose Pāñcālī. She cannot be considered a slave.”

Duryodhana looked at the agonized Pāṇḍavas. “I am willing to abide by the decision of Bhīma, Arjuna and the twins. Let them declare that Yudhiṣṭhira is no longer their master and I will free Draupadī.”

Arjuna retorted, “Yudhiṣṭhira was certainly our lord and master before he began to play. Having lost himself, let the Kurus decide whose master he is now.”

As Arjuna spoke a jackal suddenly cried out in Dhṛtarāṣṭra’s nearby sacrificial chamber. Asses brayed in response and fearful birds cried in all quarters of the sky. Seized by anxiety, Bhīṣma and Droṇa cried out, “All peace!” Vidura urged the king to do something before total disaster overtook them.

Dhṛtarāṣṭra at last accepted that things had gone too far. He had remained silent long enough. Raising his hand he silenced the assembly, which was in chaos because of the evil omens. The blind king said, “O wicked-minded Duryodhana, O wretch, you are already as good as dead now that you have insulted a wife of the Kuru chiefs in this way, especially the Pāṇḍavas’ wife, Draupadī.”

Dhṛtarāṣṭra knew that they now faced grave danger. If he did not appease the Pāṇḍavas, then united with the invincible Kṛṣṇa, they would wreak a terrible vengeance upon the Kauravas. The king attempted to console Draupadī. “O Pāñcālī, please ask from me any favor you may desire. Chaste and always devoted to virtue, you are the foremost of all my daughters-in-law.”

Draupadī looked up at Dhṛtarāṣṭra, who had said nothing while she was being persecuted. She knew he had relented only out of fear. Still, this was her opportunity to rectify the situation. She bowed before the king and said, “O best of the Bharata race, if you desire to do me good then let Yudhiṣṭhira be freed from slavery. He is the father of my son, Prativindya. Let not people speak of that boy, born and raised as a royal prince, as if he were the son of a slave.”

Dhṛtarāṣṭra replied, “O blessed girl, it shall be so. Ask for another favor. I am not satisfied by giving you only one boon.”

“Then also free Bhīma, Arjuna and the twins, along with their chariots and weapons.”

Dhṛtarāṣṭra again granted the favor without hesitation. Then he asked Draupadī to request a third boon. This time the princess said, “O King, greed destroys virtue. I dare not ask a third favor. Indeed, the scriptures ordain that a kṣatriya woman may ask no more than two boons. My husbands, being freed from slavery, will be able to obtain prosperity by their own virtuous acts.”

Karṇa broke out laughing. “Just see how these great heroes have been saved by a woman. When they were sinking in a boatless ocean of distress, this beautiful princess became the boat of their salvation. I have never heard of such a thing before today.”

Bhīma flared, but again Arjuna checked him. “Desist, brother. Great men never care for the harsh words uttered by inferior men. Even if able to retaliate, they do not take seriously acts of hostility, preferring instead to remember even a little good that their enemies may have done them.”

Bhīma was hardly pacified by Arjuna’s words. He spoke in a low voice to Yudhiṣṭhira. “I shall at once kill all these foes. What need is there for further discussion? O lord, you may then rule the earth without a rival.”

Bhīma repeatedly cast angry glances at the Kauravas, even as a lion looks at a herd of small animals. Arjuna restrained him with appealing looks, placing his hand on his brother’s heaving shoulder. Smoke, sparks and flames issued from Bhīma’s ears, mouth and nostrils as he fought to restrain himself. With his furrowed brows and red eyes he appeared like Yamarāja at the time of universal destruction. Yudhiṣṭhira embraced him and said, “Be peaceful, brother.” He then turned to Dhṛtarāṣṭra, “O King, you are our lord. Command us what we should do now.”

Dhṛtarāṣṭra replied, “Go in peace, Ajātaśatru. You are full of humil-ity and you wait upon your elders. Therefore you are wise. Those who are wise do not remember an enemy’s hostility. Instead, they see only the good in them. Only the worst of men use harsh words in a quarrel, while superior men do not react when provoked. Knowing their own feelings, they can understand the feelings of others. Therefore they always act with compassion, even toward their enemies.”

Dhṛtarāṣṭra then begged Yudhiṣṭhira to forget Duryodhana’s harshness and to try instead to remember whatever kindness the king and his wife Gāndhārī had shown him. He told Yudhiṣṭhira that he had allowed the gambling match in order to examine the strengths and weaknesses of his children and the Pāṇḍavas. The king concluded, “In you, O Yudhiṣṭhira, is virtue, in Bhīma, prowess, in Arjuna, patience, and in the twins there is pure reverence for and service toward superiors. Go then, all of you, and live in peace. Return to your own kingdom. Let there be brotherly love between yourselves and my sons. Be ever fixed in virtue.”

The Pāṇḍavas bowed before the king and then left. They ascended their chariots with Draupadī and started for Indraprastha. The assembly broke up and all the kings retired to the palatial mansions provided for them by Dhṛtarāṣṭra. As they left the hall, some of them praised Yudhiṣṭhira and others Duryodhana. The blind king was led away by Vidura. As he recalled the heinous wrong committed by his sons toward the Pāṇḍavas, and especially toward their wife, he became gripped by fear. Giving them their property could hardly repair the damage that was done by the insult to Draupadī. Bhīma would certainly never forget his vows and, at the first opportunity, would doubtlessly take his revenge. Sighing, the Kuru monarch entered his chambers and began his evening prayers.