The Longing Heart: Arjun and Subhadra's Tale of Exile

In Quest of Divine Weapons

In the heart of the majestic Himalayas, amidst the tranquil surroundings of Mount Kailash, Arjuna embarked on a path of intense penance to seek divine weapons from two powerful deities - Lord Shiva and Lord Indra. The son of Pandu had been driven by a deep sense of duty and a relentless desire to prepare himself for the challenges that lay ahead.

For six long years, Arjuna stood unwavering in his meditative posture, his eyes fixed on the snow-capped peaks that surrounded him. He endured the harsh conditions of the mountain, the biting cold, and the howling winds, with a focus that remained unbroken. His devotion to his goal was unwavering, his determination unyielding.

As the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, Arjuna's body grew emaciated, his clothes tattered and his face weathered. Yet, his spirit remained strong, fueled by a fire that burned deep within his being. He knew that the path he had chosen was not an easy one, but he was willing to endure any hardship to any weather.

He missed the laughter of his wife and son, the smell of food cooking over an open fire, and the feeling of being surrounded by loved ones.Yet, despite his misery, he knew that he must focus on the task at hand. He had to find a way to defeat the demon that had taken his family from him. He drew upon his skills as an archer and warrior, honed over countless years of training and battle, and steeled himself for the challenges that lay ahead.

As they sat around the crackling fire, the brothers shared stories of their past adventures, their triumphs and failures. The sound of their laughter, however forced at times, filled the air, and Arjun could not help but feel a sense of camaraderie and belonging.

Despite his inner turmoil, he found solace in the companionship of his brothers, knowing that they understood his pain and would stand by him through thick and thin.The night grew dark, and the brothers eventually retired to their sleeping bags. Arjun lay awake for a long time, staring up at the stars, his mind racing with plans and strategies.

He knew that the next day would be difficult, perhaps the most challenging of his life, but he also knew that he could not afford to fail. His family depended on him.As he drifted off to sleep, he found himself reliving the memories of his past triumphs, of the times when he had faced insurmountable odds and emerged victorious.

He recalled the training he had received from Drona, the wise and noble guru who had taught them all the ways of war and peace. He remembered the times he had spent with his brothers, the laughter they had shared, the tears they had shed. It was these memories that gave him strength, that reminded him of who he was and what he was capable of.

Arjuna knew in his heart that there would be a fight thirteen years later.
Just as Ram had fought Ravana, the Pandavas would have to fight the
Kauravas. He felt there was more merit in preparing for that fight than
spending time in the forest cursing fate like Draupadi or being angry like
Bhima.

‘Let me invoke Shiva, the God of destruction, and obtain weapons such as the Pashupadast, which contains the strength of all birds and beasts, which I can use against the Kauravas,’ he said.

He took leave of his brothers and travelled north towards the snow-clad mountains whose peaks reached up
to the sky.

At the base of the mountains was a dense forest of tall pine trees. In a
clearing of the forest, Arjuna fixed into the soft earth a smooth oval stone collected from a river bed. ‘I shall look upon this formless stone as a linga, the symbol of Shiva, God without form,’ he said. He offered it
flowers and then sat before it withholding his senses and his breath, his mind focused on Shiva.

Days passed. Those who saw the still and immobile Arjuna were
impressed by his concentration.

Suddenly, a wild boar rushed towards Arjuna and interrupted his
meditation. Arjuna opened his eyes, picked up his bow, shot one arrow that hit the boar and killed him instantly.

As Arjuna approached the boar, he noticed that he had been hit by another arrow. He looked up and found a Kirat or hunter standing next to the dead animal. Beside him was his beautiful wife. ‘My husband killed the boar,’ she said, beaming with pride.

‘No, I killed the boar,’ said Arjuna.

‘No, my husband did,’ insisted the hunter’s wife.

‘My wife is right. It was my arrow that killed the boar. You shot a dead
boar,’ said the hunter.

‘Do you know who you are talking to?’ asked Arjuna, unused to being
dismissed in this fashion.

‘A boy who always wants to win,’ said the hunter, making a face to mock
Arjuna.

An incensed Arjuna said, ‘I am Arjuna, student of Drona, and the greatest
archer in the world.’

The hunter smiled, ‘Greatest? By whose measuring scale?’

His wife said, ‘This is the forest. Your city rules don’t apply here, boy. You
may be a prince somewhere else. But here you are a common dog who
must make way for the lion.’

Arjuna was furious. He would not allow this uncouth tribal couple to
humiliate him so. ‘Let us fight then. He who wins is surely the better
warrior and the true hunter of the boar,’ he said.

The hunter accepted the challenge with a mocking look in his eyes, further annoying Arjuna.

Arjuna picked up his bow and shot arrows at the hunter. The hunter
responded calmly by shooting arrows that struck Arjuna’s arrows midair.

Arjuna grudgingly had to accept that the hunter was indeed a skilled
archer. When his quiver got empty, he picked up a sword and started
fighting with the hunter. When the sword broke, a hand-to-hand combat
followed.

Arjuna found that the hunter was not only skilled but also very strong; he overpowered Arjuna effortlessly.

Angry, desperate, stripped of all confidence, Arjuna went back to the linga of Shiva and offered it flowers. When he opened his eyes, he found the hunter sitting in front of him, smiling tenderly, covered with the same flowers that he had just offered the linga.

It dawned on Arjuna that the hunter was none other than God himself. ‘I
wanted to see how determined you are for the weapons. You don’t give up, do you?’ said Shiva, his voice booming across the forest.

Arjuna realized the hunter’s wife was the goddess Shakti. The boar with the two arrows was actually their sacred bull, Nandi, pretending to be dead.

Arjuna prostrated himself before God. ‘Here,’ said Shiva, ‘take the
Pashupadasth. Use it wisely.’

Arjuna then had a vision of Shiva’s true form. His hair was matted and his body smeared with ash. He had wrapped himself in the hide of a lion and a tiger and he held in his hand a trident, a rattle-drum and a skull as a
begging bowl. Round his neck was a string of Rudraksha beads and a
hooded serpent. He sat on a great white bull with his wife beside him.

She was dressed in the sixteen love-charms of marriage—a red sari, flowers in her hair, betel leaf in her mouth, bangles, armlets, anklets, bracelets, toe rings, rings on her nose and ears, necklaces and bejewelled belts around her waist.

The divine couple, embodiments of the soul and the flesh, raised their hands and blessed Arjuna.