In the grand hall of Kampilya’s palace, an air of anticipation filled every corner. Nobles, kings, and princes from distant lands gathered in the majestic assembly, each seated in rows around the lavishly decorated arena. The room was adorned with garlands of fresh flowers and draped in silk banners, creating an atmosphere both celebratory and tense. The dignitaries exchanged whispered conversations, admiring the royal display but keeping their gaze fixed on the ornate entrance where Draupadi would soon appear. This was no ordinary event; this was a swayamvar, an occasion where the fire-born princess would choose her life companion. And for the first time in history, her beauty and strength were to be admired not just as a legend but in person.

On the dais, King Drupad sat with a dignified air, his face both calm and proud. His loyal minister whispered final arrangements, ensuring all was set for the trials to begin. It was not just a test of valor and skill but a stage set for fate, for the destinies of the assembled royals, and perhaps for kingdoms themselves, would change based on the outcome of this day.

Amid the crowd, tension simmered as eager princes waited, each harboring hopes of winning Draupadi’s hand. Their eyes gleamed with ambition; some wore suits of armor, their faces cast in fierce determination, while others draped themselves in elaborate robes, confident that lineage and charm alone might sway the princess’s heart. Murmurs filled the hall, scattered whispers of “The fire-born princess will be mine,” echoing among proud smiles and quiet assertions.

But suddenly, as the buzz of anticipation settled, a new presence graced the assembly. A divine energy seemed to ripple through the hall, and all heads turned as two figures entered—Shri Krishna and his elder brother, Shri Balram. Krishna’s radiance filled the room with a celestial glow, an aura that was at once calming and awe-inspiring. His expression was gentle yet knowing, his eyes deep with understanding, while Balram’s powerful presence radiated strength and nobility.

Together, they greeted the assembly with folded hands, their polite “Namaste” carrying both humility and grace. Some in the hall returned the gesture warmly, smiles lighting up their faces, recognizing the honor of Krishna’s presence. Others, however, regarded him with jealousy, a flicker of resentment in their eyes, feeling overshadowed by his divine charm.

Krishna and Balram approached King Drupad with respect, bowing before him. King Drupad, though a man of stern composure, couldn’t help but acknowledge their reverence with a nod of admiration. Drishtadyumn, understanding the significance of their arrival, gestured toward two seats placed beside Drupad himself, an honor reserved for only the most respected of guests.

As Krishna and Balram took their seats, a sense of calm swept over the hall. Krishna’s gaze roamed over the crowd with a gentle smile, as if he saw not just the assembled princes but the intricate weave of destinies converging in that very hall.

As the grand assembly brimmed with fervor and anticipation, two unassuming figures slipped quietly into the hall, their attire simple and worn—robes of wandering sages that blended easily into the background. They moved with a calm grace, their steps soft and unhurried, careful not to attract the attention of the crowd, their presence almost hidden amid the grandeur of the royal court. To most in the hall, they were merely two more spectaculars, blending into the sea of onlookers.

But they did not escape the keen eye of Shri Krishna. From his seat beside King Drupad, his gaze fell upon them, recognizing them instantly. A faint smile played upon his lips—a smile filled with warmth and knowing, touched by an otherworldly glow. His eyes met those of Arjun, who had, for a moment, glanced his way. And in that silent exchange, without words, a deep connection passed between them.

Arjun, his heart filled with both respect and admiration, lifted his hand in a quiet namaste to Krishna. Krishna, ever serene and radiant, inclined his head, his smile deepening—a smile so beautiful it seemed to carry the light of countless lifetimes, brimming with a divine grace beyond expression. It was as if, in that brief moment, Krishna’s gaze reassured Arjun of the path before him, of the roles they were all meant to play in the unfolding destiny of the world.

As the crowd settled, Drishtadyumna, the noble brother of Draupadi, rose to address the assembly. His voice, steady and respectful, filled the grand hall as he began:

"Apna vaktavya shuru karne se pehle main sarva pratham mere pujniya aur adarniya pita maharaj ko pranam karta hun iske uprant, main iss swayamvar main upasthit sabhi yodhaon evam shresth purushon ko naman karta hun."

("Before beginning my address, I first bow in reverence to my honorable and respected father, the King. Following that, I offer my respects to all the warriors and esteemed men present here at this swayamvar.")

He paused, allowing his words to sink into the attentive silence of the crowd. Taking a deep breath, Drishtadyumna continued with clarity and a steady gaze:

"Meri behen Rajkumari Yagyaseni Draupadi ko bulane se pehle main iss swayamvar ke niyam aur prakriyon ke vishaye main batata hun."

("Before calling upon my sister, Princess Yagyaseni Draupadi, I will explain the rules and procedures of this swayamvar.")

He gestured toward a large vessel of water positioned beneath an intricate mechanical device suspended high above where a craved image of fish with red eyes revolved on the top facing the water beneath. His voice rose with pride and purpose as he detailed the challenge.

"Meri behen Rajkumari Draupadi ko jeetne ke liye yahan upasthit iss paani ke bade ghade ke upar sthit uss yantra main jo machhli ka chitra ankit hai, uske laal ankhon ko iss neeche sthit paani main uske pratibimba ko dekh kar lakshay sadhna hai. Jo machhli ke ankhon ko bina kisi kathinayi se teer marne main saksham hota hai wahi meri behen Draupadi ke varmala ke yogya kehlayega."

("To win the hand of my sister, Princess Draupadi, each of you must aim for the red eye of the fish depicted on the device above this large water vessel. The archer must look into the reflection in the water below and strike the fish’s eye without hesitation or error. Only he who succeeds in this challenge will be considered worthy of my sister's varmala—the garland of marriage.")

As he spoke, determination sparked in the eyes of many hopeful suitors, each assessing their strength and skill, some fiercely driven by the thought of winning the swayamvar, others distracted by a hint of lust as they imagined glimpsing the beauty of Draupadi. The air was thick with anticipation, a tension growing with each passing moment as they prepared to witness the trials that would decide Draupadi’s fate.

As Drishtadyumna concluded the terms of the swayamvar, murmurs of agreement rose from the kings and princes gathered, each nodding with understanding, their gazes fixed upon him. Then, with a voice filled with pride and reverence, he announced:

"Abb jyada vilambh na karte huye main apni priya behen Pachal Kumari, Aryavart ki sabse sundar, agni ke tez aur chandrma ke komalta se yukt, ati alokik Yagyaseni Draupadi ko swayamvar sabha main ane ki anumati de raha hun."

("Now, without further delay, I grant permission for my beloved sister, the princess of Panchala, the most beautiful in all Aryavarta, imbued with the radiance of fire and the softness of the moon, the divine Yagyaseni Draupadi, to enter this assembly.")

Every head turned toward the entrance, curiosity flickering in countless eyes, eager to catch a glimpse of the fire born princess. And there, framed by the grandeur of the palace doors, she appeared—a vision of unparalleled grace, surrounded by her loyal attendants. On her right, Shikhandi held her hand, while on her left, Gurumata, her spiritual guide, walked with quiet pride.

Draupadi stepped forward with a veil draped elegantly over her head, her mangtika gleaming with a brilliance that matched the radiance of her face. Her presence filled the entire sabha with an aura both fierce and tender, like the warmth of a fire that could comfort and awe. The eyes of warriors, kings, and princes widened in astonishment, some so struck by her beauty and the aura she held that ornaments slipped from their fingers, neck and earrings clattered to the floor. Draupadi noticed this display and allowed herself a small, knowing chuckle at their bewildered faces, many not even realizing what they had dropped in their daze.

Gracefully, she approached her father, King Drupad, and bowed deeply. He looked upon her with pride and affection, placing a hand on her head in a silent blessing. She then turned to Drishtadyumna, her gaze full of warmth, and he led her by the arm to the royal seat prepared just to the left of her father’s throne.

As Draupadi took her place, she gazed across the assembly with a calm dignity. Her eyes fell upon Shri Krishna and Balram, and her face softened with an instant, radiant smile. Bowing to them, she brought her palms together in namaste. Krishna and Balram returned her gesture, offering blessings with a serene nod, their expressions filled with admiration and warmth.

With one last steadying breath, Draupadi faced forward, resolute and poised, embodying both the grace of a princess and the strength of a flame.

As Drupad declared, “Swayamvar arambh kiya jaye” (“Let the swayamvar begin”), a tense silence swept through the assembly. First to rise was Duryodhan, his face alight with pride and a flicker of arrogance. He glanced around, his gaze challenging the other competitors, before bowing to Drupad. Casting a provoking look at the others, he strode forward with a confident swagger towards the center of the hall, where the bow, arrows, and device awaited.

Observing this, Krishna’s eyes danced with a playful glint as he swayed his head slightly and murmured to Balram, “Tanik apke shishy ka ghamand to dekho, Dau.” (“Just look at the pride of your disciple, Dau.”)

Balram nodded knowingly, his gaze fixed on Duryodhan as he replied, “Dekhraha hun, Krishn, dekh raha hun.” (“I’m watching, Krishna, I’m watching.”)

Duryodhan approached the bow, standing before it with a posture of absolute confidence. He placed his hands on it, gripping it as if he alone wielded supreme strength. But when he tried to lift it, the bow didn’t budge. Laughter rippled across the hall as Duryodhan’s brow furrowed in irritation. Anger flashed across his face, and determined to prove himself, he grabbed the bow again, this time using both hands and exerting all his might. Yet, once more, he failed.

The royals burst into laughter, unable to suppress their amusement at his failed attempt. Humiliated, Duryodhan cast a furious look at them, his face dark with rage. Holding his angavastra tightly, he jerked his hands away from the bow and marched back to his seat. He sat down, bristling, as his uncle Shakuni leaned over to console him, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Across the hall, Draupadi watched from her seat, exchanging a satisfied glance and smile with her best friend Govind.

One by one, after Duryodhan’s failed attempt, the other princes, kings, and nobles took their turn. Each approached the bow with steely resolve, exerting their might, yet not a single one could even shift it. The bow was so formidable that it seemed impossible to lift, even in the wildest imagination. Resigned to defeat, each man stepped away, leaving the mighty weapon untouched.

Just then, from the crowd of royals, a figure rose—the King of Anga, Angraj Karna. He moved forward with calm poise, his face reflecting a discipline and determination that commanded respect. Reaching King Drupad, he bowed deeply. Drupad acknowledged him with a blessing, and Karna then advanced toward the bow, every step deliberate and purposeful. When he reached the bow, he respectfully bowed to it and the arrow beside it, murmuring a prayer under his breath with folded hands, his face serene in concentration.

Without hesitation, Karna gripped the bow with one hand and lifted it effortlessly from its stand. Gasps echoed through the hall, and eyes widened in shock, including Draupadi’s, who looked to Krishna as if seeking an answer, a silent question in her gaze: Is he the one meant for me?

Krishna met her eyes, his expression calm as he gently shook his head in silent response, a gentle “no.” Seeing this, Draupadi’s expression shifted. As Karna began to string the bow with disciplined ease, she took a deep breath, and in a firm, unwavering voice, called out, “Thero, Angraj!” (“Stop, King of Anga!”)

All eyes turned toward Draupadi, including Karna’s, who paused mid-action, looking toward her with a composed yet curious expression. She raised her voice, her gaze steady as she declared, “Main ek sutputra se vivah nahi karna chahti.” (“I do not wish to marry the son of a charioteer.”)

A wave of whispers rippled through the assembly, some murmuring, others laughing at Karna’s expense. Yet Karna’s expression remained stoic, undisturbed by the old insult of being a sutputra (charioteer’s son), a title he had long grown accustomed to. With an unflinching gaze, he carefully placed the bow back in its place and, unstringing it, looked at Draupadi and spoke with quiet dignity, “Swayamvar ka arth hi apne icha anusar swayam ke liye var chunna hai. Issliye main aapke baton ka maan rakhte hue ye dhanush yahi rakhta hoon. Parantu, Rajkumari, aapne mujhe apmanit karke mujhe swayamvar jeetne se roka. Yadi aise hi chalta raha to aapke varmala ke phool murjha jayenge.” (“The purpose of a swayamvar is for one to choose a groom of her own wish. So, out of respect for your words, I will leave this bow here. But, Princess, by dishonoring me, you have kept me from winning this swayamvar. If this continues, the flowers in your garland will wilt before you can place them.”)

With a final, respectful bow, he turned and made his way back to his seat. Watching him leave, Draupadi’s heart felt a pang of uncertainty, and she glanced toward Krishna with a worried expression. Krishna simply met her gaze with a serene nod, his presence a quiet assurance. His eyes seemed to convey a silent message: All will be well; keep faith, for destiny will unfold as it should.



Draupadi

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---- Guys it's true that when Draupadi entered the swayamvar hall the ornaments of the royals from different kingdoms fall on the floor. (Refrence - Mahabharata of Geetapress)

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