On the other side of the Aryavarta, events did not unfold as they had in the grand hall of the Swayamvar. Trusted spies brought astonishing news to the court that spread like wildfire through the royal court of Hastinapur.

The beautiful and fortunate Rajkumari Draupadi had accepted the five Pandavas as her husbands. And the one who had strung the formidable bow and pierced the mark with unerring precision was Arjuna. The warrior who had single-handedly lifted King Shalya of Madra whirled him around like a mere toy and sent fear coursing through the hearts of all men in the arena with nothing but a tree in his grasp—he was Bhima, the tormentor of enemy armies, whose mere touch was as fearsome as the fury of the gods.

When this revelation reached the inner royal wing of Dritarashtra, his trusted advisors were thrown into disbelief. They had long believed that Kunti and her five sons had perished in the blazing inferno of the house of Lac. Yet here they were, standing tall, disguised as peaceful Brahmanas, only to emerge victorious in a contest that had gathered the mightiest kings of the land. Some murmured amongst themselves, their voices laced with regret and hushed curses against the one who had set the trap—Purochana. The deception had failed. The Pandavas had returned, and in their return lay the seeds of a storm that would soon shake the throne of Hastinapur.

But not all in Hastinapur lamented this turn of fate. Some ministers of Dritarashtra's court, bound by wisdom rather than malice, rejoiced in silence. They approached the blind king and, with voices tinged with wonder, declared, "Maharaj Dritarashtra! Fortune smiles upon the Kuru dynasty."

Upon hearing these words, Dritarashtra's face lit up with joy. In his ignorance, he assumed Draupadi had chosen his son, Duryodhana. Unable to contain his delight, he exclaimed, "What great fortune!" He immediately ordered ornaments to be crafted for Draupadi and instructed Krishnaa to be summoned for festivities.

But the ministers hesitated before revealing the truth—the bride had not chosen his son, but rather the sons of Pandu. They were alive, strong, and now allied with a mighty kingdom.

For a moment, silence loomed. Then, in a voice measured yet firm, Dritarashtra spoke, "Pandu's sons are dearer to me than they were to Pandu himself. If they are well and allied with such power, what king, bereft of fortune, would not wish to seek an alliance with them?"

His ministers, relieved by his words, replied, "May such wisdom shine in your heart for a hundred years, Maharaj."

At the same time, Duryodhana, the crown prince of Hastinapur, entered. His heart burned with humiliation as he marched away with his brothers, Ashwatthama, Shakuni, and Kripa. His mind was clouded with fury, his lips tight with suppressed rage. Beside him, his brother

Duhsasana spoke in a voice heavy with frustration, "Pitashree! Had Dhananjaya not disguised himself as a Brahmana, he would never have succeeded in winning Draupadi. No one recognized him! I am beginning to believe that destiny is supreme, and all our efforts are but dust in the wind. Jyeshta! Cursed be our endeavors when the Pandavas still draw breath."

Thus, with bitter words and dark thoughts, the Kauravas returned to Hastinapur, their minds filled with unease. Another truth further deepened their realization of their failure—Vasusena, Suryaputr, had already secured the eastern lands. If the Pandavas now joined forces with Drupada and the Yadavas of Dwarka, their strength would be insurmountable.

In the privacy of Dritarashtra chambers, Duryodhana and Ashwatthama approached him, their expressions dark with anger. With barely concealed impatience, Duryodhana demanded, "Pitashree! We cannot speak before your ministers. We need to talk to you alone."

The moment the ministers departed, leaving the chamber silent save for the hushed flickering of lamps, Duryodhana's anguish burst forth. "What do you intend to do now, Pitashree? Do you take the prosperity of our enemies as our own? You applauded them before the ministers. You pretend to be pleased when you should be seething with fury!"

His voice rose as he continued, "Pitashree! We must act now to weaken them before they grow too powerful. The time has come for us to scheme and ensure that the sons of Pandu do not rise to swallow us whole—along with our allies, armies, and throne!"

Then, with an almost desperate edge, he added, "And what of Vasusena? He said they were dead! Yet they live. Do you not see it? This was his plan all along! He has secured the east, and now, with Drupada and the Yadavas behind them, they will come for us. And then what?"

Dritarashtra sighed deeply as if carrying the weight of an empire on his shoulders, "Putr, my worries are no different from yours. But I cannot reveal my heart before the ministers. I praised the Pandavas only to mask my true intent. This is not the time for open war—it is the time for cunning."

Then, he turned his sightless eyes toward his son and Ashwatthama, his voice low but firm. "Tell me what you think we should do. This is the moment for counsel, not despair."

As the night deepened, the halls of Hastinapur witnessed whispers of war, deceit, and the shaping of a destiny that would soon engulf the world in flames.

A Call to Arms

Duryodhana took a step forward, his voice laced with urgency and cunning as he addressed Dritarashtra. "Pitashree, let us now use skilled and trusted Brahmanas to sow discord among the Pandavas. Let there be a rift between Kunti's sons and Madri's sons. Or let us tempt Raja Drupada, his sons, and his counsellors with immeasurable wealth so that they forsake Kunti's sons, Vasusena and Yudhishthira. If not, let them be individually convinced that life here is impossible, compelling them to leave of their own accord. If they scatter, our path to supremacy is clear."

His eyes gleamed with malevolent intent, "Or let artful men, masters of deception, turn the sons of Pritha against one another. Yuyutsu, who already walks a delicate path, can be used to achieve this. If all else fails, let us turn Rajkumari Krishnaa against them. It should not be difficult—after all, she has five husbands. Let them grow weary of her, and her disillusionment drive a wedge between them. Pitashree! The strongest among them is Bhimasena. If we can secretly orchestrate his death, their unity will crumble, and their strength will wane. And when Bhima falls, Vasusena must follow. Without him, their will to reclaim the kingdom will vanish. He is their pillar, the force that binds them."

His tone turned venomous, "Arjuna is invincible in battle, but only with his brothers flanking him. Without Vasusena and Bhima, Phalguna is not even a quarter of Ashwatthama's might. When Bhimasena and Vasusena are dead, their weakness will be evident, and our strength will be undeniable. They will fall into despair. Pitashree! If the sons of Pritha return and submit to us, we can destroy them with ease. Or, one by one, let us tempt them with the embrace of beautiful women, turning their hearts away from Krishnaa. If their love for her diminishes, their unity will follow. Or let us send Ashwatthama to summon them here and, on the journey, have trusted dacoits ambush and slay them. Pitashree, time is slipping away. We have a chance as long as their trust in Drupada, like that of a raging bull, has not solidified. But once that trust is unshakable, our opportunity will be lost forever. These are my thoughts, Pitashree! We must suppress them now. Ashwatthama! Tell me, are my words wise or flawed?"

Ashwatthama's gaze was steady, unyielding, "Suyodhana, your ideas do not reflect wisdom. The Pandavas cannot be vanquished through trickery. You have tried before, and yet they emerged victorious every time. Maharaja Dritarashtra, they were but children, isolated and friendless back then. Yet, even then, you could not hold them down. Now, they have grown, forged alliances, and won kingdoms. I am certain that no deception will bring them harm. Fate shields them, and no vice can shackle them."

His voice grew firm, "They do seek to build their own home, Vasusena said at the Swayamvar. However, they seek to reclaim what is rightfully theirs—the kingdom of their ancestors. They cannot be torn apart. Yuyutsu is one of them, bound by loyalty. Those who share a common wife cannot be divided; such a bond, though rare, finds mention in the Vedas. You will not succeed through this ploy."

He continued, his tone unwavering, "And you think Rajkumari Krishnaa can be alienated from them? She chose them when they had nothing. Now, they stand prosperous. Women desire devotion, and Krishnaa has received it. She will not turn away. Maharaja Drupada is righteous, untouched by greed. He will never forsake Kunti's sons even if we offer him our kingdom. His sons are men of virtue, bound to the Pandavas in unwavering loyalty. I see no strategy of subtle deceit that can harm them."

Placing a firm hand on Duryodhana's shoulder, Ashwatthama's voice took on a different edge, "But today, there is one path—one that is certain. The Pandavas must be struck down before they establish their roots. Maharaja, wage war! As long as our forces stand mighty and the Panchalas remain vulnerable, we must strike with our weapons without hesitation. Suyodhana, take up arms swiftly before their chariots, allies, and kin gather."

His voice turned resolute, "Maharaja, act before the King of Panchala and his formidable sons take action. Display your strength before Varshneya (Shri Krishna) arrives with the Yadava army to restore the Pandavas to their throne. Maharaja, Shri Krishna will sacrifice anything—riches, kingdoms, pleasures—for the Pandavas' sake. The slayer of Paka (Indra) attained dominion over the three worlds through valour, and among Kshatriyas, valour alone is revered. It is our dharma, the essence of the brave. Therefore, let there be no delay. Crush Drupada with the might of a vast army and bring the Pandavas here."

His eyes burned with conviction, "Gifts, deception, or conciliation cannot subdue the Pandavas. Let us vanquish them with our might. With them defeated, you will rule over the vast earth unchallenged. There is no other way."

On hearing Ashwatthama's words, Dritarashtra, his expression unreadable, finally spoke, "O son of Drona, your wisdom and skill with weapons are beyond question. These words of valour befit you. But consult with Kripa, Drona, and the others to determine the best course for our kingdom's future."

His voice wavered slightly, "I wish that Tatshree Bhishma were here to guide us. But he has abandoned the battlefield. My brother Vidura is absent as well. Therefore, let counsel be taken among you."

And with that, Maharaja Dritarashtra summoned all his advisors to deliberate on the fateful course that would shape the destiny of Aryavarta.

The Council of Elders

Hearing that Rajkumari Krishnaa had been won by Arjuna and had become the wife of the five Pandavas filled Guru Drona with immense joy. However, the arrival of a messenger bearing news that Dritarashtra and his sons wished to meet him at such an unusual hour sent a shadow over his heart. The lateness of the hour was ominous, and Drona, a man who had seen the tides of fate shift in darkened corridors, could already sense that something terrible was unfolding.

A heavy sigh escaped him, burdened with conflict. He had always wished for his son to stand with Dharma. Had Ashwatthama chosen that path, Drona would have gladly followed Bhishma, but fate had bound him to Adharma instead.

He entered the royal chambers, where Ashwatthama, Dritarashtra, and Duryodhana awaited him. The words they spoke made his heart grow heavier. His own son, the child he had raised, was descending into cruelty. A cold realization gripped him—Ashwatthama was no longer the boy who had once held his hand with innocent reverence. He had become someone else who could not see past his desires.

Drona's voice, firm yet sorrowful, cut through the tense air, "I will never agree to war against Pandu's sons. Undoubtedly, the Pandavas are as dear to me as the hundred Kauravas are. To me, the sons of Gandhari are like the sons of Kunti. Maharaja Dritarashtra, they must be protected as much by me as you. Just as they are to you and me, they should be the same to Duryodhana and all the sons of the Kuru lineage. Therefore, I can never support a war against them. Instead, they treaty with those great warriors and granted them their land.

This kingdom belonged to their fathers and grandfathers. Yuvraj Duryodhana, as you see this kingdom as your inheritance, so do the Pandavas. If the sons of Kunti, who walk the path of righteousness, are denied what is rightfully theirs, then neither you nor anyone else in the Kuru lineage has a legitimate claim. Suyodhana, if you believe you have acquired this kingdom through righteousness, the Pandavas have an even stronger claim, for they obtained it before you. Grant them half the kingdom peacefully. That will be the best for everyone. Any other course of action will lead only to ruin. There is no doubt—you will be covered in dishonor."

Kripacharya, standing beside Drona, stepped forward. His voice carried the weight of wisdom, unshaken by power or fear, "Try to preserve your reputation, Yuvraj. A good name is the source of supreme strength. It is said that a man who has lost his reputation lives in vain. O son of Gandhari, O descendant of Kuru, as long as a man's name is honored, he is immortal. He is truly destroyed only when his name is lost. Follow the Dharma of your ancestors. Act as they did. The survival of the Pandavas is fortunate, not unfortunate. The fact that Pritha still lives is a blessing. The wicked Purochana perished in his own flames, failing in his treachery. Yet, Maharaja, it is not him that the people blame. They blame you. Do not stain the honour of Hastinapur further.

Vasusena and Yuyutsu acted for the family's sake, not against it. He may have conquered the eastern lands, but that does not erase the Pandavas' claim over their ancestral kingdom. Vasusena was the rightful heir to the throne of Hastinapur. It is a right no one can deny. As long as those warriors live, even Devraj Indra cannot deprive them of their heritage. They stand united in Dharma. They have been robbed through treachery, but righteousness will prevail. If you wish to act justly and please those who truly care for you, if you seek what is good, then grant them half their birthright."

A presence filled with urgency stormed into the chamber. Gandhari, the mother whose heart carried the weight of love and fear, had heard everything. She could no longer remain silent. Dritarashtra, startled, asked, "Why are you here? At this hour, you should be resting—"

But Gandhari's voice cut through his words, trembling with anguish and motherly pain. "I am glad that Kunti and her sons live! Vasusena has done what an elder brother should do. But Maharaja, have you forgotten the curse that looms over us? Do you not understand? Killing them will only bring further ruin. And do not forget—by whose divine grace where they born? Do you think you can eradicate them without consequence? Do you believe the celestial beings will remain silent? Do you have the strength to wage war against Devraj Indra? Against Lord Yama? Against Vayu? Against any of them? No one does!

So, do not tread this path of ruin. If my son, Suyodhana, believes he has a right to the throne because his father is a temporary king, then what of Vasusena, whose father was the rightful king? Do not invite more curses upon us! Maharaja, Dharma is not about power; it is about righteousness! You are blinded by love for your son, but your duty is to all your children, not just one. The throne is not yours to grant through deceit. It belongs to those who uphold Dharma, and the Pandavas have done so. Act justly, or your name will be remembered with shame for all eternity."

Drona, moved by Gandhari's words, turned to Dritarashtra once more, "Maharaja, the duty of those summoned for counsel is to speak the truth, no matter how harsh it may be. My thoughts align with those of Kripacharya and Maharani Gandhari. Let Kunti's sons have their rightful share of the kingdom. That is eternal Dharma. Send a soft-spoken envoy to Drupada. Let him bear gifts, precious jewels, and golden ornaments. Let him speak of the good fortune that this alliance brings.

Maharaja, let this envoy reassure Drupada and Dhrishtadyumna that you and Duryodhana are pleased with this union. Let the Pandavas and Vasusena be pacified with respect and honour. Let Duhsasana and Vikarna welcome them with a grand procession. Let the sons of Pandu be given their due, as the people of this land desire. Let them be instated in their ancestral kingdom. This is the only righteous course."

Ashwatthama immediately speaks, his voice firm yet laced with deep resentment, "Pitashree, Mamashree, their lives have always been sustained by your wealth, honour, and unwavering support. And yet, today, they dare to offer counsel that is not in your best interest. What could be more astonishing? How can the wise heed advice that appears noble on the surface but is born from a heart filled with malice? A deceiver who masks his true intentions cannot be trusted, no matter how virtuous his words may seem.

In times of adversity, even friends can do neither truly good nor lasting harm. A man's fortune—his misery or happiness—is dictated solely by destiny. The learned and the ignorant, the old and the young, the fortunate and the destitute, all find what is meant for them, regardless of their actions.

Have we not heard of King Ambuvicha of Magadha, who ruled from Rajagriha? He was a king in name alone, a man devoid of strength or skill, whose sole existence was to breathe air in and out. His ministers governed in his stead, and one named Mahakarni rose to prominence among them. With unchecked authority, Mahakarni usurped all power and disgraced his king. He seized the king's treasures, desires, women, and jewels—everything that was once his. But greed, Pitashree, knows no bounds. Having stolen everything else, Mahakarni turned his covetous eyes upon the throne.

Yet, despite all his cunning and ruthless ambition, he could not take the kingdom from Ambuvicha. Why? Because it was ordained by fate. The king had no ability or endeavor, yet the kingdom remained his. Why? Because destiny had decreed it so.

Maharaja, if this kingdom is genuinely yours by fate, then not even the enmity of the three worlds can wrest it from your grasp. But if it is not meant for you, no force in existence—no strategy, valour, or war—will allow you to keep it. You are a learned man. Therefore, I urge you to weigh their honesty and deceit before heeding the words of your so-called well-wishers. Judge carefully who speaks for your true welfare and who speaks with hidden motives."

Drona's expression darkens with fury. His voice trembles with anger and disbelief as he rebukes his son, "How have you strayed so far, Ashwatthama? How can you let such thoughts poison your mind? Have you forgotten the sin you committed when you dared to compete in Krishnaa's Swayamvar, seeking to claim her hand? Did you not realize, even then, the disgrace of desiring the hand of your god-sister? And now this? Another act of reckless arrogance? Mahadev will not forgive these atrocities, Putra."

Drona's anger does not subside, but an ache beneath it is a father's anguish. His voice, though firm, carries a deep sorrow as he continues, "I know your words are not spoken out of wisdom but out of bitterness. Your heart is clouded with malice, which blinds you to what is right. In your desire to harm the Pandavas, you seek to twist the truth, to find fault where none exists. But hear me well, Ashwatthama! What I have spoken is not merely my will; it is for the supreme welfare of all. It is for the preservation of the Kuru lineage. If you see evil in my words, tell me—what course leads to the greater good? If my counsel, meant for the highest welfare, is disregarded, mark my words—the Kuru dynasty will march toward its ruin. The fall of this house will not come from the hands of our enemies but from the poison within."

Drona's gaze pierces through his son, a final warning unspoken yet undeniable.

A Voice of Reason

Hearing the voices around him, Sanjaya, Dritarashtra's trusted confidant, steps forward calmly yet resolutely: "I do not know if words will hold value in this royal chamber today. As you all are aware, the Mahamantri of Hastinapur is none other than Rajkumar Vikarna. However, as your advisor, Maharaja, I seek your permission to speak a few words."

Duryodhana, seething with impatience, was about to interrupt, but Dritarashtra raised a hand, silencing him. "Speak, Sanjaya," he said gravely, "You have stood by me through every trial. Tell me what is on your mind."

Sanjaya took a deep breath before speaking, his words measured and unwavering: "Maharaja, there is no doubt that your well-wishers have spoken with your best interests in mind. Yet words fall on deaf ears when the listener refuses to heed them. Acharya Drona, the son of Rishi Bharadwaj, has offered counsel that would secure your most excellent welfare, but you do not accept it.

Similarly, Kripacharya, in his wisdom, has advised you well, but Ashwatthama, son of Guru Drona, deems it unfit. Maharaja, upon deep contemplation, I find no one in this assembly more devoted to your well-being than Guru Drona and Kul Guru Kripacharya.

They are not only the elders in this court but also paragons of wisdom, well-versed in dharma and sacred texts. Their vision is impartial, seeing the sons of Pandu and your own as equals. There is no question that in virtue and truthfulness, they are second to none, not even to the great Rama, the son of Dasharatha, or the illustrious King Gaya.

Never have they given you misguided counsel, nor have they ever led you towards harm. Then why, Maharaja, should these tigers among men, whose strength is rooted in truth, offer you advice that does not serve your highest good? These are men revered across the land for their wisdom. They would never lead you astray with falsehoods or ill-intentions."

Sanjaya took a step closer, his voice gaining strength, "Maharaja, those who encourage you to act against dharma and whisper venom against the Pandavas do not honestly care for you. If you let your partiality dictate your actions, it will serve neither your honour nor your future. My heart tells me that Maharani Gandhari and the wise elders have spoken words of righteousness. Yet, you turn away from them. Have you ever considered, Maharaja, whether their words bear ill intent? Or do they merely seek to uphold justice?

The truth remains: the Pandavas are invincible. Can the mighty Savyasachi Arjuna, whose prowess equals that of Indra, ever be defeated in battle? Can Bhimasena, with arms that hold the strength of ten thousand elephants, be bested by gods or men? Can any warrior wishing to see another sunrise dare challenge the twin sons of Madri and Yudhishthira, the masters of war? Can anyone, in his right mind, believe that the eldest Pandava—Suryaputr Vasusena—who embodies patience, mercy, truth, and unparalleled valour can ever be vanquished?"

His words echoed in the hall, resonating in the hearts of those present, "With Yuyutsu and Balarama standing beside them, with Janardhana as their guide and Satyaki as their support, is there anyone left whom they have not already conquered in battle? Raja Drupada is their father-in-law; his mighty son, Shikhandi, and the brave Parshata, Dhrishtadyumna, and their warrior kin stand ready by their side. Knowing their strength and claim to the throne is rightful, should you not act according to dharma, Maharaja?"

Sanjaya's words stirred something profound within Acharya Drona, who looked upon him with pride. He finally understood why Vidura always spoke so highly of Sanjaya's wisdom. Even Gandhari, whose heart carried the weight of despair, found solace in his words.

Sanjaya continued, softer yet resolute, "Maharaja, the incident with Purochana has tainted your name with great dishonor. People murmur that it was you're doing. The Brahmanas curse your lineage. If you wish to cleanse yourself of this infamy, there is only one way—to extend kindness and justice towards the Pandavas. We once waged war against King Drupada. Would we not be stronger if he stood as our ally? The Yadavas are a mighty force, but their loyalty lies with Shri Krishna. And where Krishna stands, victory follows. Tell me, Maharaja, who would choose the path of war when the same end can be achieved through peace? The people of Hastinapur rejoice at the news that Kunti's sons are alive. They yearn to see them again. Do what will bring them joy. Do what is right. Duryodhana, Ashwatthama, and Shakuni, son of Subala, are driven by folly and arrogance. Their words will bring ruin. Listen not to them. Did Vidura not forewarn that this kingdom would meet destruction at the hands of Duryodhana's recklessness?"

Gandhari, who had remained silent, now trembled as Sanjaya's words struck deep. She recalled Niyati's parting words when she had left for Varnavat—the time was no longer in her favour. And now, here she stood, witnessing it unfold before her eyes. If the Kuru lineage met ruin, it would be at her son's hands, and she could no longer deny it. Tears welled in her sightless eyes, for she could see the truth more clearly than anyone else.

She spoke sorrowfully, "Arya, Sanjaya speaks nothing but the truth. My brother, my sons, and Ashwatthama are blinded by ambition. You must acknowledge this. You already know this in your heart, yet you ignore it. You are aware of their intentions. Mantri Kanika fuelled this fire within you. I turned a blind eye for your sake, but my heart and mind remain clear. I see the truth, and you must see it too. For once, choose the path of righteousness over the path of convenience. If our sons walk towards doom, it is not because of ancient jealousy but because of your insecurities. I say this before all assembled here because there is no more denying what is plain for all to see. Listen to Sanjaya."

Dritarashtra, though reluctant, knew he could no longer dismiss the voices of reason. Though his heart remained tethered to his son, the weight of his public image and the fear of disgrace forced him to act, "Acharya Drona, my queen Gandhari, and you, Sanjaya—you have spoken wisely and for my welfare. Undoubtedly, the Pandavas, the sons of my brother Pandu, are also my sons by dharma. Just as my sons have a claim to this kingdom, so too do the Pandavas. Sanjaya, bring them and their mother to Hastinapur with all honour.

And along with them, bring Rajkumari Krishnaa of divine beauty. By great fortune, the sons of Pritha have survived. By great fortune, Kunti still lives. By great fortune, these Maharathas have gained the hand of Drupada's daughter. By great fortune, our strength has been restored. And by great fortune, the wretched Purochana is no more. My great grief has been lifted."

A decision had been made. But whether it was steadfast resolve or mere pretense remained to be seen.