Mahabharata ( A Story of Dvapar Yuga in Prose) Part-34 B
By Lokanath Mishra
The Bow, the Fish, and the Truth Unspoken
Even when truth stood bare before their eyes, Bhishma and Drona could not bring themselves to accept it. Their hearts recognized what their tongues refused to confess.
Bhishma spoke softly to Drona,
“Tell me, do you recognize this Brahmin? And yet—why does my heart feel such strange joy on seeing him?”
Drona replied, “His movements are unmistakable. They are Arjuna’s.”
Bhishma sighed, “Then have I forgotten that truth?”
A sudden fear rose within him.
“Then the charred bodies in the House of Lac… were my grandsons truly alive?”
Before the bow lay three objects: a heap of gold coins, a mighty bow, and an ancient sacred book.
“If he is a true Brahmin,” Drona said, “his eyes will be drawn to wealth.”
But the young man—Dhananjaya in disguise—did not even glance at the gold. He lifted the bow with ease, tested it briefly, and then placed it down. Finally, he touched the sacred book to his forehead in reverence.
Drona whispered, “A Kshatriya… and a devotee of Vishnu. My suspicion stands confirmed.”
Bhishma felt the same quiet thrill within his heart.
Arjuna stood beneath the towering mechanism and carefully reviewed every rule of the challenge once more with Dhrishtadyumna.
“If after I strike the target, the kings create chaos?” he asked calmly.
Shikhandi replied, “Seven Akshauhinis of Panchala stand ready. Do not worry.”
With effortless grace, Arjuna lifted the bow and held it in his left hand.
As he raised it skyward, a roar echoed through the hall—
“Sadhu! Sadhu!”
Arjuna requested that all kings be asked once more if any wished to attempt the challenge. The kings, bruised in pride, refused.
He paused briefly, thinking of Karna, who had strung the bow earlier.
“Half the success,” he reflected, “belongs to the one who strings it.”
He unstrung the bow, straightened it again, and carefully restrung it upon his knee. Once more, the hall erupted in praise.
Placing an arrow upon the string, Arjuna bowed to Drona. The guru, deeply moved, raised his hand in blessing.
Arjuna then offered silent salutations—to Indra in heaven, to Vasudeva seated in the hall. Krishna smiled and conveyed Arjuna’s respect to Balarama, who blessed him inwardly:
“May Partha strike the mark.”
Krishna smiled knowingly.
As Arjuna prepared to aim, Bhishma and Drona had no doubt left—
This was Bhishma’s beloved grandson, Drona’s greatest disciple, Krishna’s dearest friend, the peerless archer, Dhananjaya.
Draupadi prayed silently to the Divine Mother:
“Let this Brahmin strike true.”
The arrow flew—swift as fate itself—piercing the fish’s left eye and exiting through the right. The garland adorning the golden fish fell to the ground.
Krishna’s conch thundered. Flowers rained from the heavens. Sages chanted blessings. Music filled the air.
Draupadi descended with the garland—but Duryodhana objected loudly.
“The arrow does not remain in the fish’s eye! The challenge is incomplete!”
Jarāsandha and Shishupala supported him.
Shikhandi countered, “Then how did the garland fall?”
“It was weakly tied,” Duryodhana scoffed.
Drupada spoke firmly, “Is Krishna’s conch not proof enough?”
Shishupala seized the chance to insult Krishna, mocking his birth and deeds. Balarama roared in anger, but Krishna gently restrained him.
“Let him speak,” Krishna said calmly.
“Each insult hastens his end.”
Jarāsandha boasted of chasing the brothers eighteen times. Bhishma finally thundered back, reminding him how Krishna had spared his life at Govardhan.
Karna stepped in to calm the rising fury.
Still doubting, Balarama asked, “Has the target truly been struck?”
Krishna replied with certainty,
“That is Arjuna. He could strike it a hundred times—no, a thousand.”
Hearing this, Arjuna stepped forward and offered to repeat the feat.
The hall quieted.
Knowing the bow had weakened, Arjuna sought permission to use another. The kings refused.
He prayed silently to Indra, who granted him the Gandiva invisibly.
Holding both bows together, Arjuna released two arrows—
One pierced the fish perfectly, the other shattered the revolving wheel.
Drupada himself descended, lifting the fish and the wheel for all to see.
Krishna’s conch rang again.
Draupadi approached with the garland—but Arjuna asked her to wait, perhaps seeking Yudhishthira’s consent.
Duryodhana whispered to Shakuni,
“Perhaps the Brahmin seeks wealth instead.”
Shakuni approached Arjuna with flattery and temptation—offering gold, honor, and position in exchange for Draupadi.
Arjuna laughed softly.
“Go ask your master,” he said,
“At what price he would sell his own wife.”
Thus, beneath disguise and destiny, truth stood revealed—
Not merely in the fall of a fish or the breaking of a wheel,
But in the unshakable dharma of one who could never be bought.
⸻( to be continued) ——-