The Swayamvara’s Climax and Departure

The grand hall of Kampilya's palace was a cauldron of tension, its golden pillars and jasmine garlands overshadowed by the drama unfolding at Princess Draupadi's swayamvara.

Bahubali, Magadha Naresh, had just lifted the divine bow with ease, his skill silencing the crowd, only for Draupadi's sharp voice to cut through the air: "Stop! I will not marry a sutaputra." The words struck like a thunderbolt, the hall falling into stunned silence.

Bahubali's face turned cold, his eyes narrowing, but before he could respond, Duryodhana, yuvraj of Hastinapur, leapt to his feet, his voice booming with indignation.

"Maharaj Drupad, what is happening here?" Duryodhana demanded, his gaze blazing as he faced the Panchal king on his high platform. "You invited Magadha Naresh Bahubali, a warrior whose valor humbles kings, to your swayamvara, only to let your daughter insult him with such disdain? If Panchal had no intention of honoring him as a suitor, why summon him at all? This is not hospitality—it's a calculated slight, a mockery of his honor and ours! Explain this injustice, or Hastinapur will remember this affront!"

Karna, standing beside Bahubali, joined in, his voice sharp with restrained fury. "Maharaj Drupad, I echo Suyodhana's words. If Panchal deems sutaputras unworthy, why extend invitations to both Magadh Raj Bahubali and me? We came in good faith, honoring your call, yet your daughter's words spit on our dignity. If I step forward and lift this bow, will I face the same scorn? This is no swayamvara—it's a stage for humiliation! You've disrespected warriors who've earned their place through deeds, not birth. Speak, Maharaj, or Anga too will reconsider its ties with Panchal!"

The hall buzzed with murmurs, some kings nodding in agreement, others shifting uncomfortably.

Draupadi's face tightened, her fists clenched, while Drupad's expression wavered between defiance and unease.

Bahubali, however, raised a hand, his smile calm yet firm, silencing his friends. "Mitras, enough. I thank you for defending my honor, but let's not taint this day with anger. The bride has every right to choose her husband, as dharma allows. Rajkumari Draupadi's words, though sharp, reflect her heart's truth. I harbor no grudge—she has spoken her will, and I respect it."

Duryodhana shook his head, his voice low but fierce. "Bahu, you're too forgiving! This isn't just about her choice—it's about inviting you under false pretenses, only to cast you aside with an insult. Panchal's court should bow to your deeds, not scorn your birth. I won't stand for this disrespect to you!"

Karna's eyes flashed, his tone equally resolute. "Bahu, Drupad knew of your prowess, yet allowed this public shame. If they reject us for our origins, let them say so openly before inviting us to their grand farce!"

Bahubali placed a hand on each of their shoulders, his voice steady, carrying the weight of his resolve. "Suyodhana, Karna, your loyalty warms my heart, but anger clouds judgment. Rajkumari Draupadi's choice is hers, and I'll not force her heart. Let's not let pride turn this into a feud. We came for dharma, not discord. Calm yourselves, and let's honor the sanctity of this hall, even if its hosts falter."

Reluctantly, Duryodhana and Karna nodded, their fury subsiding under Bahubali's calm influence.

Bahubali turned to Drupad, his voice clear and unwavering, addressing the king directly. "Maharaj Drupad. I thank you for inviting me to Kampilya, for the honor of standing in your court. But your daughter has made her choice, and I respect it. However, this moment reveals a rift in trust. From this day, Magadha will halt trade relations with Southern Panchal. Our paths diverge here, but I wish your kingdom prosperity. With your leave, I take my departure."

The hall gasped, Drupad's face paling at the diplomatic blow. Before he could respond, Duryodhana stepped forward, his tone curt. "Maharaj, Hastinapur also takes its leave. I came to honor your invitation, but this insult to my mitra cannot be ignored. Farewell."

Karna followed, his voice firm. "Anga joins Magadha and Hastinapur. We depart, Maharaj, with no ill will, but no further ties."

As the trio turned to leave, Krishna, seated beside Draupadi, gave a knowing smile, his eyes glinting with unspoken wisdom. Leaning toward Draupadi, he spoke softly, his voice laced with gentle rebuke. "Sakhi, you've chosen your path, and that is your right. But to disrespect a warrior like Bahubali, whose deeds rival the gods, was unwise. His heart is pure, his strength divine, yet you judged him by birth, not merit. Reflect on this, Draupadi, for dharma sees beyond titles."

Draupadi's eyes flickered with doubt, but she held her silence, her resolve unshaken.

In the audience, the Pandavas, disguised as Brahmins, stifled laughter, their hearts gleeful at Bahubali's rejection. "See, Arjuna," Bheem whispered, "our foes face their own humiliation. Let them taste defeat." Arjuna, his eyes burning, nodded. "Karna and Bahubali's failure soothes my heart. That sutaputra deserves this for the kalapradarshan. Yet, I wish I could compete."

The swayamvara continued, Dhrishtadyumna calling the remaining kings. One by one, they failed to lift the divine bow, their pride crumbling.

Drupad, now visibly anxious, turned to Krishna, his voice low. "Dwarkadhish, not one has lifted the bow! I crafted this for Arjuna, believing he lived, but this failure risks Panchal's honor. What now? The swayamvara teeters on collapse!"

Krishna's smile remained serene, his tone calm. "Maharaj, if no king can lift the bow, open the contest to all—Brahmin, Kshatriya, or otherwise. A task this divine demands a worthy soul, and one is present. Let the swayamvara proceed, and you'll see victory."

Drupad, desperate, nodded. "As you advise, Dwarkadhish." He signaled Dhrishtadyumna, who announced, "By Maharaj Drupad's decree, the contest is open to all! Let any man attempt the bow!"

From the audience, Arjuna, disguised as a Brahmin, felt his heart race. Rising, he approached the stage, his saffron robes hiding his Kshatriya frame. With a silent prayer to Mahadev, he gripped the bow, lifting it effortlessly, drawing gasps. Stringing it with practiced ease, he shot an arrow through the revolving fish's eye, each hitting true.

The hall erupted in cheers, Drupad's relief palpable. Draupadi, her eyes softening, placed the garland around the Brahmin's neck, accepting him as her husband.

Outside the palace, Bahubali, Karna, and Duryodhana stood by Rashmi, Bahubali's divine chariot.

Duryodhana, still seething, demanded, "Bahu, why didn't you challenge Drupad's insult? You lifted the bow with ease—Draupadi's rejection was a calculated slight! You should've demanded answers, shown them Magadha's might!"

Bahubali smiled, his voice calm but insightful. "Suyodhana, anger solves nothing. Draupadi's heart was set before the swayamvara began—she chose her husband long ago, in spirit if not in deed. This contest was never about us. Drupad crafted it for Arjuna, believing him alive, to secure a warrior unmatched. I respect her choice, even if her words stung."

Karna's eyes narrowed, his tone sharp. "So it was a ruse to humiliate us? Drupad invited us knowing he'd reject sutaputras, yet dangled the prize to mock our honor? Bahu, this reeks of Panchal's arrogance!"

Bahubali shook his head, his smile unwavering. "Not quite, Karna. Drupad's ambition drove him to seek Arjuna. The test was designed for one of four in our age: Arjuna, Sri Krishna, you, or me. Krishna, calling Draupadi his sakhi, abstained. Drupad shunned us for our birth, leaving Arjuna. My spies whispered the Pandavas live, hidden as Brahmins. When Drupad opens the contest to all, Arjuna will rise, disguised, and win. Mark my words—he's here, and he'll claim Draupadi."

Duryodhana's eyes widened. "So they are here?"

Bahubali nodded. "Arjuna will win, and Panchal will have its alliance. Our path lies elsewhere."

Karna, convinced, clasped Bahubali's shoulder. "You see further than us, mitra. Let's return to our kingdoms and continue our work."

With a final glance at Kampilya's palace, the trio boarded their chariots and departed for Magadha, Anga, and Hastinapur, their bond unbroken, their resolve strengthened, as dharma's intricate web wove on in Aryavrat.