A week had passed since Niyati's divine arrival, and the world buzzed with an insatiable desire to glimpse the celestial child. Rulers, sages, and noblemen across Aryavarta sent emissaries and envoys with gifts and proposals of alliance, many even daring to suggest marriage for the infant. The audacity of these overtures enraged King Ugrasena.

Standing in the royal court of Mathura, his voice thundered like a storm, silencing the whispers. "From this moment," he declared, his tone sharp and unyielding, "no one shall see Putri Niyati until the time is right. Let it be known to all kingdoms and all rulers: the gates of Mathura will remain closed to anyone seeking an audience or attempting to learn more about her. My granddaughter is not a commodity to be bartered or ogled at. Spread this decree far and wide!"

The announcement sent ripples across the land, halting the endless stream of envoys. Yet it also fueled intrigue as whispers of Niyati's unparalleled grace and celestial origins spread like wildfire.

Meanwhile, within the city of Mathura, an unbridled joy reigned. Balarama and Krishna, the protectors of the Yadava clan and beloved sons of Vasudeva – Devaki - Rohini, reveled in their time with their new-born sister. Their days were filled with laughter, pranks and play, the air around them seeming lighter as if even nature delighted in their companionship. With his boundless curiosity, Krishna often sat by her cradle, gently humming melodies that seemed to lull even the stars. Balarama, ever the elder brother, watched over her with a fierce protectiveness that matched his strength.

But their hearts were not blind to their duty. One afternoon, as the royal family gathered in the grand hall, Krishna spoke with his characteristic blend of charm and gravity. "Matamaha," he addressed Ugrasena. "Dau and I have decided to seek knowledge and wisdom. Our hearts tell us that we must go to the city of Avanti, where Rishi Sandipani now resides. He is the ideal guru for us, and we wish to continue our learning journey under his guidance.

Balarama nodded in agreement. "We are certain, Matamaha. This is our path."

Ugrasena, though reluctant to part with them, understood the importance of their quest. With a solemn nod, he blessed their decision. "Very well, my sons. Go forth and learn all you can. The Yadava clan will await your return, stronger and wiser than before."

As preparations for their journey began, the court made another decision. Some of the younger children of the Yadava clan would be sent to study under Guru Dronacharya, the famed preceptor of Hastinapur, ensuring that the next generation would also be skilled in warfare and strategy.

The day of departure arrived quickly. Krishna and Balarama, their hearts alight with purpose, bid farewell to their family. Standing before Niyati's cradle, Krishna gently touched her tiny hand and whispered, "Be well, little one. I will return sooner than expected, and we will fulfil our Dharma."

Balarama placed his hand over his heart and said, "Until we return, know that you are always in our thoughts, little sister."

With those words, the two brothers, flanked by a small retinue, began their journey to Avanti, leaving behind a city that seemed quieter in their absence yet still vibrant with the divine presence of Niyati. The Yadava dynasty stood poised on the cusp of a new era, their hearts united by hope, wisdom, and the light of a child destined to change the world.

The Guru's Pride

In the grand halls of Hastinapur, the momentous day had arrived when Bhishma, the patriarch of the Kuru dynasty, along with the young Kauravas and the sons of Pandu, formally accepted Drona as their revered preceptor. The ceremony was resplendent, with offerings of riches and reverence, as Bhishma handed over the future of the Kuru lineage to the great archer. Drona, the embodiment of wisdom and skill, welcomed his disciples with an unwavering gaze, sensing the immense responsibility that lay before him.

Gathering the princes in Gurukul, Drona observed them closely, speaking in a calm yet commanding tone. He sought to understand their strengths and weaknesses, drawing out their natures.

During one such session, a Kuru prince curiously inquired about Drona's life. Drona recounted the tale of his humiliation and unfulfilled promises with a sigh that carried the weight of past struggles. The story stirred something deep within Arjuna, who listened with unwavering attention.

Rising to his feet, Arjuna declared with conviction, "Gurudeva, I vow to avenge your honour whenever you command. This is my promise to you."

Drona, deeply moved by the sincerity of Arjuna's words, embraced him with tearful eyes. Drawing him close, he inhaled the scent of his disciple's forehead, whispering words of pride and blessing. From that moment, Arjuna became Drona's most cherished student, a bond forged in devotion and destiny.

Under Drona's meticulous guidance, the sons of Pandu, the Kauravas, and other princes from various kingdoms—including the Vrishnis, Andhakas, and monarchs from far-off lands—embarked on their journey to master the art of war.

Drona, the supreme Brahmana, imparted knowledge of divine and mortal weaponry with unparalleled skill. Among them, Arjuna stood out, and his dedication to his preceptor was unmatched. He worshipped Drona with unwavering devotion, tirelessly honing his skills and absorbing every lesson with unyielding focus.

But even as Drona nurtured his pupils, he harboured an extraordinary ambition for his son, Ashwatthama. To give his son an advantage, he secretly instructed the cook to serve Arjuna food only during daylight hours. Yet fate had its plans. As Arjuna ate his meal one evening, a sudden wind extinguished the lamp. Realizing he could eat without light, Arjuna conceived the idea of practicing archery in the dark. The night echoed with the twang of his bowstring as he trained relentlessly under the stars.

Hearing the sound, Drona approached Arjuna and embraced him warmly. With a voice filled with pride and determination, he said, "You have proven your dedication beyond measure. I promise you, Arjuna, that I will make you the greatest archer the world has ever seen. None shall rival you in the art of war."

From that day, Drona taught Arjuna the use of weapons and the nuances of combat—from fighting on horseback, elephants, and chariots to engaging in close combat with clubs, swords, and spears. Arjuna's prowess grew with each passing day, his skills surpassing even the most seasoned warriors.

The fame of Drona's gurukul spread far and wide, drawing thousands of kings and princes eager to learn the sacred science of Dhanur Veda. Witnessing Arjuna's unmatched abilities, the assembly marveled at his brilliance.

The Guru's Wish

In the serene surroundings of Avanti, Rama and Janardhana approached the revered Rishi Sandipani with humility and devotion. Bowing deeply, they informed him of their lineage and offered themselves as disciples. The sage from Kashi, a repository of pure knowledge, observed their reverence and noble conduct. He accepted them as students, recognizing their innate divinity and resolve.

With unwavering focus, the two brothers immersed themselves in their studies. Day and night, for sixty-four days, they absorbed the wisdom of the Vedas and Vedangas, their exceptional intellect allowing them to grasp even the most complex teachings effortlessly.

Their mastery astonished the preceptor, who marveled at their superhuman intelligence. He saw the embodiment of the moon and the sun in them, radiant and eternal.

The sage imparted to them the sacred knowledge of Dhanurveda—the fourfold science of warfare, encompassing weapons, military strategy, the art of combat, and its spiritual dimensions. Alongside their studies, Rama and Krishna performed their duties with utmost humility, serving their guru and worshipping Mahadeva.

When the brothers completed their education and stood before Sandipani, their eyes shone with gratitude. Speaking for both, Krishna asked, "Gurudeva, what can we offer you in return for your teachings? Your wish is our command."

Sandipani, knowing the immeasurable power of his disciples, responded with a request that shook the earth. "My only son, my heart's joy, was taken from me long ago during a pilgrimage to Prabhasa. A great whale devoured him, and he now lies somewhere in the depths of the salty ocean. If it is within your power, bring him back to me."

In seeking Rama's consent, Krishna promised the sage, "Your wish shall be fulfilled." With unwavering resolve, the mighty Hari descended to the ocean. The waters parted as the ocean deity appeared before him, hands folded in reverence. "O Madhava," the sea said, "Sandipani's son was consumed by a daitya named Panchajana, who has taken the form of a great whale."

Without hesitation, Krishna sought out Panchajana. The ocean trembled as the supreme being confronted the monstrous creature. In a swift and decisive battle, Krishna defeated Panchajana, slaying the daitya. He retrieved a divine conch shell from its remains, the Panchajanya, which would become renowned in the worlds of gods and men. However, Sandipani's son was nowhere to be found.

Determined, Krishna journeyed to the realm of Yama, the god of death. There, in the eternal abode of Vaivasvata, Krishna challenged the forces of death itself. With his divine prowess, he overcame Yama and retrieved the soul of Sandipani's son, restoring him to life. The young boy, who had been dead for a long time, returned to his father's arms, alive and unchanged. The earth, heavens, and all creatures witnessed this miracle, a feat beyond mortal comprehension.

Krishna and Rama returned to their preceptor, bearing not only the revived son but also treasures of untold value—jewels and riches wrested from the rakshasas. Krishna offered all to his guru, placing the radiant Panchajanya and the boy, restored to his former youth and vitality, at Sandipani's feet.

Sandipani embraced his son, overwhelmed with joy, tears streaming down his face. "You have given me the greatest gift," he said, trembling. "I am forever indebted to you." He worshipped Rama and Krishna, showering them with blessings.

Having mastered every weapon, the mace, the club, and the bow, and having proven their devotion and valour, Rama and Krishna sought their guru's permission to leave. Sandipani, though reluctant to part with his extraordinary disciples, bid them farewell with pride.

The two brothers, accomplished in knowledge and skill, returned to Mathura, their divine mission continuing to unfold. The city awaited their return, unaware of the profound deeds they had accomplished, deeds that would echo through eternity.

The Guru's Dilemma

The exploits of Krishna and Balarama became the talk of Aryavarta, their names resonating with awe and reverence. The miraculous tale of their learning everything in 64 days and nights, their audacious journey to Yam Lok, and bringing the dead back as Guru Dakshina spread like wildfire. A single thought echoed in the hearts of men and gods alike—Krishna was no ordinary being.

The very act of reviving the dead became a benchmark of divine power. Jealousy and admiration intertwined, especially among those aware of the extraordinary prowess of Vasudeva's children born to Rohini and Devaki. Whispers filled the air, carrying both reverence and envy.

Meanwhile, in Drona's gurukul, the students heard of this marvel. During this time, the story of Ekalavya unfolded—a tale of unmatched dedication and piercing emotions.

Ekalavya, the son of Hiranyadhanu, king of the Nishadas, approached Dronacharya, yearning to learn the sacred art of archery. But Drona, bound by societal norms, refused him. "I cannot teach you," he said with a heavy heart, his voice weighed with dharma's intricate burden. Ekalavya, undeterred, bowed low, touched his feet, and walked away.

In the forest's heart, Ekalavya sculpted a clay image of Drona, his chosen guru. Worshipping the idol with unwavering devotion, he immersed himself in rigorous practice, guided by sheer determination. His faith bore fruit as he mastered the art of archery, his skills sharp and unparalleled.

One fateful day, while the Pandavas hunted in the forest, their servant's dog wandered off and began barking incessantly at a figure in the shadows. Ekalavya, smeared with dirt and clad in deerskin, silenced the dog with an extraordinary display of skill—seven arrows flawlessly shot into its mouth without harming it.

The Pandavas, astonished at this act of "shabdabheda"—the art of aiming through sound alone—praised the mysterious archer. "Who could achieve such mastery?" Arjuna wondered aloud, a mix of awe and unease shadowing his thoughts.

They sought him out and found Ekalavya tirelessly practicing, his focus unbroken. When questioned, he said, "I am Ekalavya, son of Hiranyadhanu. I am a disciple of Dronacharya, striving to master Dhanurveda."

The Pandavas returned to their guru, recounting the tale. Arjuna, his heart heavy, approached Drona. "Gurudeva," he said softly but firmly, "you once promised me that no student of yours would ever surpass me. How, then, does this Nishadas boy possess such skill?"

Drona, torn between his promise and dharma, resolved to act. Arjuna accompanied him, and he went to meet Ekalavya. As they approached, the forest echoed with the sound of arrows. Ekalavya, upon seeing his guru, fell to the ground in reverence, touching Drona's feet.

"Ekalavya," Drona said, his voice steady, "if you claim to be my student, you must offer me a Guru Dakshina."

"Command me, Gurudeva," Ekalavya replied with unwavering devotion. "There is nothing I will not give you."

"Give me your right thumb," Drona said, the words heavy with finality.

"No!" Arjuna interjected, stepping forward, his eyes ablaze. "Gurudeva, this is not dharma. Maharshi Atri taught us that it is better to perform one's own dharma imperfectly than another's perfect. Ekalavya's self-taught archery skills were still remarkable, though not perfected under your guidance. Despite the challenges and setbacks, his commitment to his own path ultimately defined his character and purpose. Please do not do this, Adharma.

Arjuna turned to Drona, his voice steady but filled with emotion. "If he is interested in archery, let him be under your guidance. Like sunlight, education should illuminate everyone equally. As for me, I will strive to surpass him, improving myself every moment."

Drona, moved by Arjuna's words, embraced him. He turned to Ekalavya and said, "You have shown devotion that few can match. Your journey is yours, and your dharma will guide you."

Tears welled up in Ekalavya's eyes as he knelt before Arjuna. "No one has ever stood for a Nishadas like you have, Arjuna. You have my loyalty. No matter where I stand, I will aid you on the path of dharma when the hour of need arises."

And just like that, Niyati weaved her game skillfully from the cradle. Watching it all unfold, Krishna glanced at his baby sister with a mischievous smirk. "Can't stop for a second, ah? Always weaving the narratives."

In her mind, Niyati replied, "How can I? I came to change and establish Dharma, didn't I? How could I stop myself?"

Krishna chuckled, popping a piece of butter into his mouth. "Work when you grow up, sister. Enjoy the mortal baby age while it lasts." He offered her a bit of his stolen makhan.

"Oh, I'm enjoying," Niyati quipped, her eyes twinkling.

Suddenly, Devaki entered the room, catching Krishna red-handed with makhan smeared on his face. Niyati burst into playful cries.

"Oh, Kanha! It's you again!" Devaki exclaimed, rushing to her daughter. "And now you've got your little sister crying and feeding Makhan on an empty stomach!" She twisted Krishna's ear gently.

Krishna winced theatrically and pointed at Niyati. "She asked!"

Niyati raised an eyebrow, her laughter bubbling up inside. "Can you prove it, Brata?" she teased in her thoughts, a sly grin dancing on her lips.

The Unyielding Focus of Dhananjaya

Among the Kuru princes trained by Drona, two excelled in club fighting—Duryodhana and Bhima. Ashwatthama mastered all secret weapons, while the twins were unmatched in swordsmanship. Yudhishthira stood supreme in chariot combat. But Arjuna, known as Dhananjaya, surpassed all with his unmatched skill in every weapon, earning fame across the land for his intelligence, perseverance, and strength. His devotion to his preceptor, Drona, set him apart, making him the only atiratha (can fight 60,000 warriors single handed) among the princes.

Drona had an artificial bird placed atop a tree as a target to test their skills. Summoning the princes, he instructed, "Pick up your bows, aim at the bird's head, and shoot only when I command."

First came Yudhishthira. Bow taut, he stood ready. "Do you see the bird?" asked Drona. "I see the bird, the tree, you, and my brothers," Yudhishthira replied.

Displeased, Drona said, "This is not for you. Step aside." One by one, Duryodhana, Bhima, and the others attempted but failed, distracted by everything around them.

Finally, Drona called Arjuna. "This task is yours. Focus."

Arjuna drew his bow into a perfect semicircle and stood unwavering. "Do you see the bird?" Drona asked.

"I see only the bird," replied Arjuna.

"Describe it to me," demanded Drona.

"I see only its head, nothing else," said Arjuna with precision.

Elated, Drona commanded, "Shoot." Arjuna's arrow struck true, severing the bird's head. Drona, beaming with pride, embraced him thinking - "With this focus, Drupada is already defeated."

Days later, while bathing in the Ganga, a crocodile seized Drona by the thigh. Testing his disciples, Drona called out, "Save me!" Arjuna released five arrows before the others could act, slaying the crocodile instantly.

Pleased by his speed and skill, Drona presented him with the invincible Brahmastra weapon, cautioning, "Use this only against a superhuman enemy. Against a weaker foe, it could destroy the universe."

With joined hands, Arjuna vowed to use the weapon wisely. Drona declared, "No archer in the world will surpass you."

The Wrath of Jarasandha

Upon hearing of Kamsa's death, the lord of Rajagriha, the formidable King Jarāsandha, was consumed by fury. His anger, stoked by the loss of his son-in-law and the slight to his daughters, Asti and Prapti, knew no bounds. These two daughters had been bestowed upon Kamsa by King Barhadratha, and their marriage was a symbol of power, only for Kamsa to imprison his father, Ahuka, and dishonor the legacy of his rule.

With Kamsa dead, Jarāsandha's heart burned for revenge, not just for the loss of his ally but for the humiliation of his family. He could not abide the rise of the Yadavas, whose very existence mocked his bloodline. His wrath was no longer a storm but a blinding, unrelenting rage. The death of Kamsa and the loss of control all turned into a vengeful thirst for destruction.

With his mind set on slaying the Yadus, Jarasandha gathered his vast army—powerful enough to rival the gods. Six sections of warriors, each a hurricane in its own right, followed him. They were warriors of legend, kings from distant lands, mighty archers, and fierce fighters, each bound by the same bitter hatred for Janardhana.

Among them, the likes of Dantavakra, the lord of Karusha; the powerful Bhishmaka, who stood by his side through thick and thin; and Rukmi, who rivalled the great warriors like Vasudeva and Arjuna, sought to quench the burning fire of vengeance.

The king of Kalinga, the mighty Poundra, and Kaishika, the deceitful king, followed closely, their armies as imposing as their reputations. Venudari, Shrutarva, Kratha, Amshuman, the mighty king of Anga, the lord of Vanga, Koushalya, the king of Kashi, the lord of Dasharna, the brave Suhveshvara, the lord of Videha, the mighty king of Madra, the lord of Trigarta, the king of Salva, the courageous and immensely strong Darada, the lord of the Yavanas, the valiant Bhagadatta, the king of Souvira, Shaibya, Pandya, supreme among the strong, Subala, the king of Gandara, the immensely strong Nagnajit, these and other powerful maharatha kings followed Jarasandha, driven by their hatred for Janardhana.

Their aim was precise—to take the city, destroy the Yadavas, and erase the insult they had suffered. But the question remained: could the Yadavas, protected by Krishna, Rama, and the strength of their allies, withstand this tidal wave of vengeance?