Chapter 1: The Burden of Exile

In the kingdom of Hastinapur, a somber melody hung in the air, echoing the trials of the Pandavas. Arjuna, the unparalleled archer, stood in the shadows of his own greatness, his skill with the bow unmatched by any warrior. Yet, even he could not protect his family from the humiliation they had suffered.

"Your Majesty," a voice called out, breaking the silence. "Right before your eyes, Duryodhana has greatly insulted the Pandavas. Is Shakuni planning another trick? Do I have to play dice again?"

The question lingered, heavy and foreboding. In the heart of this turmoil was Yudhishthira, the wise and noble king, torn by his love for his family and the duties of his position. "You are really Yudhishthira's spy," he heard, a voice filled with accusation. "No matter how much I love you, you will always side with the Pandavas."

The Mahabharata, an eternal epic penned by the sage Vedavyasa, had been passed down through generations. Scholars like Haridas Siddhanta Bagish, Kaliprasanna Singha, and Rajshekhar Basu had translated its wisdom into Bengali, making it accessible to all. Now, this ancient tale was being retold in a simple play, produced by Pastel Entertainment, to capture the imagination of the young and old alike.

In the midst of this unfolding drama, Bhima, with fierce determination, vowed to defeat the cunning Duryodhana and his brother Dushasana. The land of Hastinapur was soaked with the tears of Queen Kunti, mourning the fate of her sons. Terrified, Duryodhana had handed over the kingdom to the wise Dronacharya, seeking refuge from the looming threat.

In a secluded part of the forest, King Yudhishthira sought wisdom. "King, during this long exile, always remember this: the main cause of all the world's sorrow is people," he was advised. "It is people who are at the root of all kinds of suffering in the world."

"But wise sage," Yudhishthira asked earnestly, "how can people be free from this sorrow? A great knowledgeable person like you would never be overwhelmed by grief. Do you know the reasons for ordinary people's suffering?"

The sage nodded. "Illness, hard work, connection with unpleasant things or people, and distance from what is dear. These are the four troubles. The first two are physical, and the last two are mental."

Yudhishthira listened intently, seeking a path through his own despair. "Great one, to bear the burden of this long 12-year exile, it is necessary to find a way to be free from sorrow. Please help me, wise sage, and tell me the way to liberation."

"Listen, Your Majesty," the sage replied gently. "Doctors heal physical troubles. To heal mental troubles, one must do it themselves. By not thinking about the causes of mental sorrow, one can be free from mental troubles. Mental sorrow can also cause the body to become weak. This sorrow heats the body, Your Majesty. Just as water extinguishes fire, applying knowledge can relieve this sorrow, great soul."

"But if the desire for enjoyment is strong in the mind, is it really possible to be free from sorrow?" Yudhishthira inquired.

The sage shared a tale of a king born into royalty, destined for pleasure but separated from it by fate. As long as he longed for his kingdom and happiness, peace eluded him. True peace, the sage explained, comes from being indifferent to worldly things, even when surrounded by them. This state could only be achieved through wisdom.

"I have no attachment to wealth or possessions," Yudhishthira confessed, "but I do care for the holy men and priests who are with me. I wish for wealth only to provide for them. They have chosen to follow me, and it is my duty to take care of them. Without wealth, I cannot fulfill this duty, and it causes me great pain."

"But as long as Sage Dhaumya is with you, what is there to worry about?" the sage reassured him. "He can help relieve your sorrow. Remember him, King."

Despite Yudhishthira's pleas for the priests to leave, their loyalty kept them by his side. Desperate, he turned to Sage Dhaumya for guidance on how to provide for them in the deep forest. "How could he find enough food for everyone?" he wondered. "Where would the Pandavas get the ingredients for Draupadi to cook with?"

Feeling the weight of his duty, Yudhishthira approached Sage Dhaumya and shared his troubles. The sage listened patiently and then comforted him with a promise. "King Yudhishthira, do not worry. There is still a way to protect your duty, but it will require great effort from you."

Chapter 2: The Blessing of the Sun

Yudhishthira felt a deep resolve as he faced Sage Dhaumya, his heart heavy with the responsibility of feeding the hungry priests. "I am ready to do anything, Sage," he declared earnestly. "Please tell me what I must do so that these hungry priests can eat."

Sage Dhaumya nodded, his eyes filled with wisdom. "There is no other way but to perform penance, King," he explained. "In the past, kings like Prithu, Nahusha, and Bhima saved their people from all dangers through penance and meditation. You come from a noble lineage and have earned virtue through good deeds. You have a pure nature, so start your penance like them. Without penance, you cannot protect your duty."

Yudhishthira listened carefully, his mind made up. "I will do penance, great sage, but whose penance should I perform? Please guide me."

Sage Dhaumya smiled gently. "Among all beings, the Sun is the source of all food. Therefore, worship the Sun. I will teach you the 108 names of the Sun God. Listen, King. Meditate on these names. Even the gods, ancestors, demons, and giants worship him. You should do the same. With a pure heart and focused mind, worship the Sun, and you will be freed from unbearable sorrow."

Yudhishthira took the sage's words to heart. He stood in the holy waters of the Ganges, holding his breath and focusing his mind. With a pure and peaceful heart, he began his prayer to the Sun.

"O Sun God, the Lord of Food," he prayed earnestly, "I humbly pray for food to feed all my guests and well-wishers. Please be kind, Lord, and grant me food."

To his amazement, the Sun God responded, his voice like a warm breeze. "Yudhishthira, you will receive everything you ask for. I will provide you with food for the entire 12 years of your exile. As a token of my endless grace, I give you a copper vessel. As long as Draupadi has not eaten, this vessel will provide endless food—grains, fruits, vegetables, and more. Your guests will always have enough to eat. However, once Draupadi finishes her meal, the vessel will no longer produce food."

Yudhishthira bowed deeply, his heart full of gratitude. "This vessel will stay with you for 14 years, after which you will no longer need it, as you will regain your kingdom. I offer my deepest respects to you, Lord, for your endless blessings."

"You are on the path of righteousness, Yudhishthira, and you will receive what is rightfully yours. Never stray from the path of virtue, my son. May you be blessed."

With the Sun God's blessing, Yudhishthira emerged from the Ganges, his worries eased. He bathed and took the copper vessel in hand. Filled with new hope, he returned to Sage Dhaumya and shared everything that had happened. Then, he embraced his brothers with newfound joy. Draupadi came to greet Yudhishthira, and together they began to cook.

They prepared various dishes, though in small amounts. Amazingly, the food in the vessel kept increasing. Yudhishthira first served the Brahmins, then his four brothers. After the Pandavas had eaten, Draupadi served Yudhishthira. Finally, she sat down to eat. The vessel had the special power that, even if it seemed full, once Draupadi ate, it became completely empty. Thanks to the Sun God's blessing, the Pandavas no longer lacked anything.

"O great sage, we are free from the heavy worry of serving our guests," Yudhishthira said, his voice filled with relief. "Now, we wish to begin our daily religious practices. Please guide us in performing the rituals according to the Vedas."

King Yudhishthira, after completing the sacrifices and peace offerings, prepared to journey to the Kamyaka Forest. Led by Sage Dhaumya, the Pandavas moved toward the forest, followed by all the sages and Brahmins.

In Hastinapur, King Dhritarashtra sat sadly, feeling like someone who had lost everything. He wasn't happy at all. In the whole kingdom, only two people dared to tell him the truth, even if he didn't like it. One was his wise minister Vidura, and the other was his loyal charioteer Sanjaya. Sanjaya was also a student of the great sage Vyasa, so Dhritarashtra respected his wisdom. After the Pandavas left Hastinapur, Dhritarashtra called for Sanjaya.

Chapter 3: A King's Dilemma

In the grand palace of Hastinapur, King Dhritarashtra sat with a heavy heart, the weight of his worries pressing down on him like a dark cloud. The room was silent, save for the soft rustle of the drapes in the gentle breeze. He had summoned Sanjaya, his loyal charioteer and trusted confidant, hoping for some solace.

Sanjaya entered the room, his respectful demeanor evident as he approached the king. "Greetings, Your Majesty. Did you call for me?" he asked, his voice calm and steady.

Dhritarashtra nodded, gesturing for Sanjaya to sit beside him. "Yes, Sanjaya, come and sit with me," he replied, his voice tinged with melancholy.

Sanjaya settled into a chair, observing the king's troubled expression. "Your Majesty, are you well? You seem very troubled and unwell," he noted with genuine concern.

The king sighed deeply, his eyes reflecting the turmoil within. "Ever since the Pandavas went into exile, I have lost interest in eating, sleeping, and working, Sanjaya. I feel like old age is catching up with me. Worrying about Hastinapur and my sons is driving me mad. Tell me, Sanjaya, will the Kauravas be safe?"

Sanjaya leaned forward, his gaze steady. "Your Majesty, you have gained everything you wanted. You rule the entire world filled with wealth. The Pandavas are no longer here. You should be happy now, so why are you so upset?"

Dhritarashtra shook his head, the weight of his fears evident. "I can't shake off this feeling of doom, Sanjaya. Will my golden kingdom, my hundred sons, my Duryodhana—will they be safe? Will our family turn against each other? Just thinking about it fills me with sorrow. Show me a way to fix this, Sanjaya."

Sanjaya met the king's eyes with calm determination. "Your Majesty, the problem you are worried about is one you created yourself. Think about it. Aren't you responsible for today's situation? You could have stopped it before it happened, but you didn't. Duryodhana insulted the Pandavas right in front of you, and even tried to humiliate their wife Draupadi in the royal court. You saw all this and stayed silent. Why, Your Majesty?"

The king's shoulders sagged under the weight of his own choices. "Sanjaya, you know everything. I had no choice but to please Duryodhana."

"Forgive me, Your Majesty, but your love for your son has blinded you," Sanjaya said gently but firmly. "You've lost sight of what's right and wrong. When fate brings trouble, people often lose their sense of judgment. They can't tell what's good for them and see wrong as right. When destruction is near, wisdom fades, Your Majesty. Duryodhana's wisdom is clouded now, which means his happy days are numbered."

"Destruction? What are you saying, Sanjaya? Duryodhana's?" Dhritarashtra's voice trembled with fear.

Sanjaya continued, his words carrying the weight of truth. "King, you do not raise your staff to crush anyone's head. Instead, when someone's end is near, you cloud their judgment. People end up doing things they shouldn't, thinking they are right. Forcing Draupadi, the noble and respected daughter of the fire-born lineage, into the assembly and insulting her in such a horrible way will surely lead to disaster, King."

Dhritarashtra's face turned pale, dread creeping into his heart. "Sanjay, Draupadi's tearful eyes could burn the whole world. What will happen to my sons then, Sanjay? Will they all perish before my eyes?"

Sanjaya's expression was grave. "That day, seeing Draupadi's condition, the women of the Kuru family and Queen Gandhari were filled with terrible anger. The priests were so upset that they didn't perform the sacred fire rituals. The palace flags fell on their own. Great sages like Bhishma, Kripa, Drona, Somadatta, and Mallik silently left the court. Yet, you did not make peace with the Pandavas, King."

Desperation seeped into Dhritarashtra's voice. "No, no, Sanjay, I did. At Vidura's urging, I returned everything to Draupadi, Sanjay. But it was all in vain. Now, if a war truly happens, and the mighty Arjuna and Bhima attack together with the Panchal and Yadava armies, everything will be destroyed, Sanjay. Everything will be ruined. Believe me, I didn't want this. I didn't want it. What can I do? Can you tell me? What should I do?"

"There is still time, King. Bring back the Pandavas. Return their kingdom to them," Sanjaya advised earnestly. "That way, you can avoid the terrible war. Otherwise, there is no other way. Send a peace proposal to Yudhishthira through a messenger, King."

Sanjaya's words struck deep in Dhritarashtra's heart. Bringing back the Pandavas would not ensure his sons' safety. So, there was no time to waste. He began to think about how to bring the Pandavas back.

But Dhritarashtra knew very well that Prince Duryodhana and his ally Karna would never agree to this proposal. Still, he waited for an opportunity. One day, the opportunity came. Duryodhana handed over the responsibility of Hastinapur to Dronacharya. Now, he considered Guru Drona's advice as final on matters of duty and decisions for the kingdom.

Chapter 4: A Kingdom's Dilemma

In the grand halls of Hastinapur, Guru Dronacharya summoned Prince Duryodhana. The wise teacher's eyes held a depth of knowledge as he spoke, "Prince Duryodhana, you have indeed risen to become the ruler of this vast world. But remember, such honor is fleeting, and the joy it brings is temporary. Your duty is far from complete. Driving the Pandavas from Indraprastha is just the beginning. While your empire stands, you must engage in noble deeds: charity, meditation, fire rituals, sacrifices, peace, and penance."

Duryodhana nodded, his voice filled with respect and curiosity. "Yes, Guruji. Please guide us on how to carry out these auspicious tasks."

"The royal priest and the chief priest," Dronacharya continued, "will oversee these ceremonies in the presence of your family, friends, and relatives. Kripacharya will select an auspicious day based on the stars. However, if these tasks are to be performed publicly, the Pandavas must be brought back from exile."

Duryodhana's brow furrowed at the mention of the Pandavas. He turned to Vidur, the wise counselor, and said, "Vidur, take my message to Yudhishthir. If he hears my words, he will not refuse. Go, Vidur. Or perhaps one of my sons should go."

Vidur, ever calm and discerning, replied, "Your Majesty, what are you ordering? The Pandavas are not our family. They are our enemies. We have taken their kingdom, wealth, and honor, leaving them as beggars. Are you still grieving for the Pandavas, Your Majesty? Do those beggars mean more to you than your own sons?"

Duryodhana's eyes glinted with determination. "Know this, Your Majesty, I am not afraid of Bhima or Arjuna. Even if warriors from Panchal, Andhaka, or Vrishni come to fight for them, I, Duryodhana, will treat them as nothing."

Despite Duryodhana's bold words, no messenger was sent to the Pandavas. King Dhritarashtra sat in silent turmoil, aware of the people's sorrow over the Pandavas' departure. He doubted the success of Duryodhana's attempts to win their favor with gifts and rewards, knowing that the hearts of Hastinapur's people were not easily swayed.

Seeking relief from his mental crisis, Dhritarashtra called for Vidur one day. "Did you call for me, Your Majesty? Please tell me," Vidur said, entering the chamber with a respectful bow.

"I am facing a deep crisis," Dhritarashtra confessed. "You have a clear and pure mind like Shukracharya. You understand the subtle truths of righteousness. You are unbiased towards either the Kauravas or the Pandavas, which is why I have called you, Vidur."

"Please tell me everything without hesitation, Your Majesty," Vidur encouraged gently.

"Are the people of Hastinapur truly against the Kuru family?" Dhritarashtra asked, his voice tinged with worry.

"Your Majesty, the people have not accepted the Pandavas in their hearts," Vidur explained. "They held Yudhishthir, a just king, in high regard. They blame you for the misfortune of such a truthful king. Your Majesty, will the Pandavas attack Hastinapur with their relatives from Panchal and friends from the Yadu clan?"

Vidur continued, his tone solemn. "Among duty, wealth, desire, and liberation, duty is the most important. Wise people say this. Yudhishthira follows this duty. He will not break his promise of twelve years in the forest. But you, King, are not following duty. You do not treat Duryodhana and Yudhishthira equally. You have created a division between them, King. On top of that, there is Shakuni's scheme. No, King, no. I don't see any way for your sons to escape their wrongdoing. They will have to face the consequences of treating a truthful king like Yudhishthira this way."

"No, no, Vidur, don't say such things," Dhritarashtra pleaded, desperation in his voice. "Only you, only you can tell me how to escape this pain. Please tell me."

Vidur sighed, a hint of sadness in his eyes. "Vidur, even if I tell you, will you listen, King? Will you act accordingly? Your love for your sons will hold you back, King. Besides, you are defeated by Duryodhana, and you won't be able to do anything that displeases him, King."

"Vidur," Dhritarashtra insisted, "it is the chief minister's duty to guide the king correctly. Don't stray from that duty."

The weight of the kingdom's future hung heavily in the air as Dhritarashtra and Vidur continued their tense conversation, each word carrying the promise of change or the threat of ruin.

Chapter 5: The Weight of Choices

Vidur took a deep breath, his eyes steady as he faced King Dhritarashtra. "Alright, then I will tell you, King. Listen carefully," he began, his voice calm yet firm. "Return the kingdom to the Pandavas. Let your sons keep Hastinapur as it is. Call the Pandavas and give them Indraprastha. Otherwise, even Hastinapur will not remain in Duryodhana's hands. Bhima and Arjuna together will destroy the Kuru army. There is no weapon greater than Gandiva in the three worlds, King. Arjuna, the wielder of Gandiva, can shoot arrows equally well with both hands. There is no warrior who can defeat him, King, none. And you know Bhima's strength well, King. So I say, do not make unnecessary enemies of the Pandavas."

Dhritarashtra leaned back, his expression thoughtful yet troubled. "Alright, Vidur, you told me the same thing during the dice game. And now you're saying it again."

"Yes, King, because these words are true. I never lie, King, so I cannot say otherwise today," Vidur replied earnestly.

The king's eyes narrowed, a hint of frustration in his voice. "You are Vidur, the chief minister of Hastinapur. Do you never see anything good in my children? Do you think they have no virtues? You never say anything good about Duryodhana, Dushasana, or any other Kaurava, not even the great warrior Karna. What kind of judgment is this, Vidur? You always praise the five Pandavas."

Vidur's gaze did not waver as he answered, "Your Majesty, it is because I want your well-being that I told you at Duryodhana's birth to abandon him. If you had listened to me then, you wouldn't be in this dilemma today, and you wouldn't have to witness so much harm. But you didn't listen to me, King."

Dhritarashtra's voice was heavy with resignation. "Vidur, I've heard you say this many times. Yes, I agree that the Pandavas are like my sons too, but there's a big difference between being like a son and being an actual son. Duryodhan was born from my own body, he is my real son. Should I sacrifice my own flesh for someone else? What kind of justice is this? I used to be proud of you, Vidur. I thought you truly wanted the best for me, but now I see that's not the case. Today, I see you only care about the Pandavas."

"Your Majesty, please forgive me, but you are completely mistaken," Vidur said, his voice filled with quiet determination. "I am not against anyone. I always speak according to what is right and fair. However, Your Majesty, I know that fairness is not for everyone, and not everyone can accept the truth."

The king's face hardened. "Vidur, at least don't say anything against my well-being. Every word you say is filled with hidden motives. You are actually on Yudhishthira's side. No matter how much I love you, you will always favor the Pandavas. Vidur, do you know what an unfaithful wife is like? No matter how kindly you speak to her, she will still go to another man. You are just like that. I don't trust you anymore. I don't need you. Whether you stay here or go somewhere else is entirely up to you. From now on, don't come before me again."

After this harsh dismissal, King Dhritarashtra left the court, his robes sweeping behind him. Vidur watched helplessly as the king walked away, the weight of his words lingering in the air. He sighed deeply, a sense of foreboding settling in his heart. "No, nothing good will come from this family anymore," he thought to himself. "This family is truly doomed, truly doomed. I will not stay here any longer. I will go where the Pandavas are, where there are many wise Brahmins and sages. I will not stay here, not anymore."

At that time, the Pandavas were residing by the Saraswati River in the beautiful Kamyaka forest. This forest was a paradise, with its many delicious fruit trees and countless enchanting plants across the hilly plains. Different kinds of flowers bloomed on the trees, spreading wonderful fragrances. The sages and Brahmins cherished this forest, and the five Pandavas were truly amazed by its beauty. In front of the learned sages, Yudhishthira engaged in discussions about the Vedas and scriptures.

Chapter 6: A Messenger in the Forest

As Yudhishthira and his brothers stood in the forest, the sound of approaching hooves grew louder. Bhima, with his keen eyes, peered into the distance and exclaimed, "No need to wonder, brother. Look, the great Vidura is coming. But why does he look so troubled? Could he be bringing some message from Hastinapur? Are we in trouble again?"

Yudhishthira's heart sank at the thought. "Anuj," he murmured, "is this another one of Shakuni's tricks? Must I play dice again? But what do I have left to wager? Is Bhima trying to win our weapons somehow? If someone challenges me to a game, I cannot refuse. But if the Gandiva bow is at risk, our kingdom is in peril."

"Dear brother," Bhima reassured him, "do not fear for the Gandiva. It will never be in danger. Even if trouble arises, with your blessings, the strength of my arms will be as powerful as a hundred."

As they spoke, Vidura arrived. The five brothers stood in respect, greeting him warmly. They ensured Vidura was comfortable, offering him rest and a meal. Once Vidura was settled, Yudhishthira approached him with concern. "Uncle, why have you come to this Kamyak forest? Do you bring news from Hastinapur?"

Vidura sighed, his voice heavy with emotion. "No, Yudhishthira, there is no message for you. King Dhritarashtra has released me from my duties, so I have come to you."

"Uncle, what are you saying?" Bhima asked, his brow furrowed. "Has the king truly let you go?"

"Yes, Bhima," Vidura replied, nodding solemnly. "I advised King Dhritarashtra for his own good, but he did not appreciate my counsel. Much like a young girl might not favor an old husband, Dhritarashtra does not favor my advice."

Yudhishthira listened intently, understanding Vidura's pain. "But how can a minister leave his king? Was it right to come here?"

"I did not leave by choice, son," Vidura explained. "If the king no longer desires my presence, I have no reason to stay. That is why I have come to you, my refuge. You Pandavas are our guiding light, and it is an honor to be with you."

Vidura continued, his voice earnest. "Look, Yudhishthira, my duty is bound to Hastinapur. If I am called back, I must go. But you must endure thirteen years in this forest. Remember, though you suffer because of the Kauravas, wait for the right moment. Until then, forgive others and strengthen your own land. Those who do so can rule the world."

Yudhishthira listened closely. "Please, uncle, continue," he urged.

"Share what you have with those who help you," Vidura advised. "A king's duty is to ensure his followers feel valued. Then they will share in your burdens. Speak not in vain or boast before others. A king with such virtues will succeed, and his followers will remain loyal."

"Noble one, your words are true," Yudhishthira promised. "I will follow your advice. May you gain fame, and may fortune favor you."

Meanwhile, in Hastinapur, King Dhritarashtra was plagued by regret. Vidura's absence left him worried, knowing Vidura would impart his wisdom to Yudhishthira. Without his trusted advisor, the king fell into despair, losing interest in everything, even the simplest pleasures like eating and sleeping. As he brooded over Vidura's departure, disaster struck. The courtiers rushed about in alarm, fearing for the king's life. Anxiety and fear gripped the kingdom as King Dhritarashtra faced a grave crisis.

Chapter 7: A Meeting in the Forest

In the heart of the Kamyaka forest, where the trees whispered secrets to the wind and the air was thick with the scent of earth and leaves, Vidura sat quietly. The gentle rustling of the forest was suddenly broken by the sound of hurried footsteps. It was Sanjaya, the charioteer, his face lined with urgency and concern.

"Sanjaya," Vidura greeted him, rising to his feet. "What brings you here with such haste?"

Sanjaya took a deep breath, catching his breath after the long journey. "Vidura, the kingdom is in turmoil. King Dhritarashtra is in despair, and his heart is heavy with regret over your absence. The people fear for his life."

Vidura nodded solemnly, understanding the gravity of the situation. "I feared this might happen. The king's heart is troubled, and without guidance, he is like a ship lost at sea."

Meanwhile, in another part of the forest, the Pandavas sat in their humble dwelling, their minds occupied with thoughts of their kingdom and the injustice they faced. Suddenly, a familiar presence approached, one that brought both hope and solace.

Krishna, the divine friend and guide, stood before them. His eyes, filled with compassion, met theirs. As soon as Draupadi saw him, the dam holding back her emotions broke. Tears streamed down her face, each one carrying the sorrow, pain, and hurt she had been holding inside.

"Krishna," Draupadi cried, her voice choked with emotion. "You have come at last."

Krishna approached her with gentle steps, his presence as calming as a cool breeze on a hot day. "Draupadi, dear sister," he said softly, "I am here now. Tell me your troubles, and let us find a way through this darkness together."

The Pandavas gathered around, their hearts lifting with renewed strength and hope. In the forest, surrounded by the ancient trees, a new chapter in their journey was about to unfold, guided by the wisdom and support of Krishna.