Chapter 1: The Disgrace in the Royal Court

Yudhishthira had lost everything—his four brothers, himself, and even Draupadi—in a fateful game of dice. The cunning Dushasana dragged Draupadi, clad in just a single cloth, into the royal court with a cruel sneer. Following Karna's malicious suggestion, Dushasana attempted to strip Draupadi of her dignity by taking away her clothing. But then, something extraordinary unfolded.

From the depths of her despair, Draupadi closed her eyes and called out silently, "Oh friend, oh Krishna, oh remover of shame. Madhusudana, oh Krishna, who helps those in sorrow, protect my honor, friend. Protect my honor. I have no one else to turn to but you. Oh greatest friend, oh Krishna, oh Govinda, save me, save me."

Dushasana looked at the struggling prince beside him and sneered, "What are you doing? Are you tired just from trying to remove a simple cloth, prince?"

The prince, exasperated and bewildered, replied, "I am only following your orders. Panchali has only this one piece of clothing, but how did it become so long, like twelve hands' length? Where are these endless clothes coming from? I have never seen anything like this before, prince, never."

In the royal court, a great disgrace unfurled, staining the sacred land with an act of humiliation never before witnessed. I, Krishna Dvaipayana Vyasa, the ancient sage of Archavarta, watched in dismay as such a grave injustice unfolded. In a court where all the wisdom of the world was gathered, the Kauravas had brought shame and a curse upon themselves. Bhishma surely knew it, and Vidura had already marked this court of Dhritarashtra as the gateway to doom. All the honor and virtue of the Kaurava clan were lost at that very door today.

There, in the heart of the court, stood Draupadi, nearly unconscious. She had forgotten everything around her, focusing entirely on remembering Lord Krishna—her only refuge, her only hope. As I watched, countless pieces of cloth joined the single garment she wore. Some were dyed in various colors, others pure white. So many clothes covered Draupadi that Dushasana, tugging with both hands, grew exhausted. It seemed as if righteousness itself protected Draupadi in the form of these clothes.

The kings and courtiers were astonished by this incredible sight. The royal princes were struck with wonder, and the invited kings, regaining their senses, began to praise Draupadi and criticize Dushasana. "Shame on Dushasana, shame on the Kauravas for such behavior! Such injustice against the righteous Pandavas! They will fall from grace. You will face the consequences for publicly humiliating Draupadi, the noble wife, in this court. Be prepared for that."

How could King Dhritarashtra permit such a terrible act by the Kauravas in this assembly? This was against all that was right. Bhima, his voice booming, addressed everyone present, "I am Bhima. Today, I make a vow—a vow that no one in the past or future will ever make. I will tear open the chest of the wicked Dushasana in battle and drink his blood. If I fail to fulfill this vow, may I be denied the honor of joining my ancestors."

What a dreadful vow! The third Pandava was about to unleash chaos, perhaps a necessary lesson for this great family. How strange it was that Dushasana sat there, tired, beside the disheveled clothes, yet King Dhritarashtra remained silent.

Bhima turned to the assembly, his voice filled with righteous anger, "Princess Draupadi cries like someone without support, asking questions one after another, yet none of you answer her. Is this what you call justice? If someone comes seeking justice, it is the assembly's failure not to provide it. Set aside desire, anger, and fear, and deliver fair justice."

The silence of the court was deafening as Bhima's words hung heavy in the air, a reminder of the justice that had been denied and the consequences that would inevitably follow.

Chapter 2: The Lone Voice of Reason

The tense atmosphere in the court was palpable as young Prince Vikarna, the lone voice of reason among the Kauravas, bravely spoke up, challenging the silence that had enveloped the assembly. Yet, his courage only highlighted the cowardice of the others. As the silence dragged on, the wicked Dushasana stepped forward, his eyes gleaming with malice.

"Take this servant Draupadi to our quarters," he commanded, his voice echoing in the grand hall.

Draupadi stood in the center, her heart pounding with a mix of fear and anger. She was no ordinary woman; she was the beloved wife of the Pandavas, the daughter of King Drupada, and a friend of the divine Krishna. Her dignity was her armor, yet here she was, being humiliated in front of the very kings who should have defended her.

“Duryodhana, who hides in the shadows, now watches as I am shamed,” she thought bitterly, glancing at the haughty prince who smirked from his seat. "The wind itself would not dare touch me without facing the wrath of my husbands, yet here stands Dushasana, laying his vile hands upon me."

Her voice, though trembling, was filled with defiance as she cried out, "Yudhishthira, Arjuna, mighty Bhima, will you remain silent? Will you not speak for me?"

The court was still, her words a haunting echo in the silence. Draupadi, her eyes burning with unshed tears, continued, "I am Krishnaa, the friend of Krishna. I am Draupadi, daughter of Drupada. How can I deserve such pain and humiliation? Where is the righteousness of the kings? Am I truly defeated?"

The silence was her only answer, and her heart ached with the weight of betrayal and sorrow. "Have mercy on me, noble ones of the great lineage," she pleaded, her voice breaking. "Do not remain silent. I beg you, I plead with you. Answer my questions."

Bhima’s voice boomed across the hall, a low rumble of thunder, "Don't cry, Kalyani, calm down. The ways of righteousness are very subtle. Draupadi, I told you this before. Right now, I can't give you a proper answer to your question. The Kauravas are lost in greed and desire. Soon, they will face their downfall."

His words were a promise, a vow of impending justice, but they did little to ease Draupadi's immediate suffering. Karna, ever eager to fan the flames of discord, spoke up with a twisted smile, "Princess Draupadi, there is only one way for you to be free. Let your mighty husbands, Arjuna and Bhima, claim that Yudhishthira is not your husband. Or let the son of Dharma himself say he is not your husband. Only then will you be free from slavery, Panchali."

Duryodhana laughed, a harsh, mocking sound that grated against the ears. "If King Yudhishthira were not my teacher, I would destroy you right now," Bhima growled, his fury barely contained. "Look at my hands, Duryodhana. Even the king of gods, Indra, would not escape if caught by them."

Arjuna placed a calming hand on Bhima’s shoulder, his eyes filled with a silent plea for restraint. "Calm down, Bhima, calm down," he urged gently.

Karna’s voice cut through the tension like a knife. "Panchali, I am giving you a judgment. Listen, a slave, a child, and a wife have no rights over their own wealth. A slave cannot have any claim over his master's wife. The Pandavas have no claim over you anymore. Draupadi, according to the law, you are now a servant of the Hastinapur royal family."

Draupadi's heart sank as Karna continued, "The sons of King Dhritarashtra are your masters. Serve them now, Panchali. The Pandavas are defeated and are no longer your husbands. You must accept another husband."

The words were like a death knell, each one striking her heart with unbearable pain. She looked towards King Yudhishthira, her eyes filled with desperation. "King Yudhishthira, speak up, let us hear your judgment. Draupadi, Bhima, everyone wants justice. They are looking to you. King, where is your judgment now? Why are you silent, King of Righteousness?"

But Yudhishthira remained silent, his head bowed in shame and regret, as the echoes of Draupadi’s pleas lingered in the air.

Chapter 3: Echoes of Betrayal

The grand hall of King Dhritarashtra's court was filled with a tense silence, only broken by the steady, unyielding gaze of Duryodhan. He shot question after question at Yudhishthira, who remained silent, his head bowed low, as if he were a statue of defeat and regret. The once proud emperor seemed unaware of the chaos swirling around him.

Duryodhan's eyes flicked towards Karna, sharing a conspiratorial smile. Moments ago, something miraculous had occurred when they attempted to disgrace Draupadi, and everyone had seen it. Now, with a smirk, Duryodhan brazenly pushed aside his garment, revealing his left thigh—strong and firm as a thunderbolt, round like the trunk of a banana tree.

Bhim's eyes blazed with fury at the sight. His entire being seemed to ignite with righteous anger. Clenching his fists, he roared, "Evil Duryodhan, mark my words! If I do not shatter that thigh with my mace during the great war, let me never see the realm of my father. The sons of Dhritarashtra will face their downfall. You may not grasp the danger now, but you will in time. You have defiled the sacred rules of the dice game by involving a woman."

His voice thundered through the hall, "You are corrupting righteousness, sowing seeds of conflict. This court is tainted. Hear my judgment. Yudhishthira staked himself first, and upon losing, he staked Draupadi. This makes the stake void. He had no right to wager Draupadi after losing himself. It is as futile as gaining wealth in a dream."

Arjun stepped forward, his voice calm yet firm. "Noble ones, I caution you. Do not be led astray by Shakuni's deceit. Draupadi, I wish to hear from the other four Pandavas, aside from Yudhishthira. If they declare Yudhishthira has no right over you, then you shall be free from this bondage. Kauravas, remember, King Yudhishthira was once our lord. But after losing himself, he holds no authority over anything."

As Arjun's words echoed, an extraordinary event unfolded in the court. A jackal's eerie howl pierced the air, joined by the cries of donkeys and ominous birds. The sound was heard by only a few—Vidur, Bhishma, Dronacharya, and Kripacharya. The wise men exchanged uneasy glances.

Just then, Queen Gandhari rushed in from the inner chambers, her face pale with concern. "King, why are you shouting so loudly? What has happened, dear? Why have you come to the court?"

"Gandhari," Dhritarashtra replied, his voice troubled, "I heard a terrible sound. How can such dreadful creatures as jackals and vultures be near the palace? What is this, my queen? I have never heard such cries before."

"Yes, Your Majesty," Gandhari insisted, "ask the wise men if they heard it too."

The courtiers murmured in agreement, and Vidur stepped forward, his voice grave. "Your Majesty, the queen speaks truly. This ominous sound is a bad omen for our royal family. How can it be good? In a court where a noblewoman is dragged and humiliated, is there any good left?"

Vidur's words hung heavy in the air. "In this assembly, where great sages like Dronacharya and Kripacharya are present, and Vidura, the embodiment of righteousness, is here, it should be as noble as the assembly of the god Indra. How can such a disgraceful act happen here? Yudhishthira, the son of Dharma, is as pure as the sacred fire. Queen Draupadi, born from the sacred fire, is a woman of immense strength. The gods will never accept their humiliation."

Gandhari turned to Draupadi, her eyes softening. "Come, Panchali, come to me, my daughter," she implored gently. "Hold back your tears. Each tear of yours can bring misfortune to the Bharata dynasty. Forgive this family like a mother, Krishna. You are a mother too."

Draupadi, though her heart was heavy with sorrow, took a step towards Gandhari, her spirit unbroken, even amidst the turmoil and betrayal.

Chapter 4: Boons and Bonds

Gandhari's voice was gentle yet firm as she spoke to Draupadi, her words a plea wrapped in wisdom. "For the well-being of your children, control yourself, Draupadi. Your Majesty, I beg you with folded hands, do not let any more misfortune befall the Bharata dynasty. Let this wrongdoing end now, I plead with you. Nature is angry, the gods are angry. Your Majesty, can you not hear?"

In the grand hall, the atmosphere was tense, charged with the weight of unspoken truths and the echoes of past wrongs. Duryodhana, standing defiantly, was called out by the voice of reason and justice. A voice, strong and condemning, cut through the tension, "Oh foolish Duryodhana, are you speaking to the wife of Dharma in this Kaurava assembly? Are you being rude? You are doomed, Duryodhana, you are doomed. Oh insolent one, because of you, this Bharata family has been shamed, yet you feel no shame."

Gandhari, turning her gaze back to Draupadi, spoke with a warmth that pierced the coldness of the hall. "Panchali, you are the foremost among my daughters-in-law. I give you that honor. You are a virtuous woman, ask me for a boon. Panchali, whatever boon you desire, I will grant it to you. Tell me, what do you want?"

Draupadi, her voice steady and filled with a quiet dignity, replied, "Oh great Bharata, if you are truly pleased with me, then I ask that the righteous King Yudhishthira be freed from his bondage of servitude. Let my son Prativindhya not be considered a slave's son."

Gandhari nodded, her expression softening. "Dear one, what you wish for shall be granted. But my heart wants to give you another boon because you truly deserve it. Tell me, dear one, what else do you wish for?"

Draupadi's eyes were resolute as she answered, "Your Majesty, please free the other four Pandavas along with their chariots and weapons from their servitude. Let them be free as they were before."

"Child, what you wish for shall be done. I grant you this boon. But these two boons may not be enough for your deserving honor. Accept a third boon from me," Gandhari offered, her voice filled with compassion.

Draupadi shook her head gently, her voice respectful yet firm. "Please forgive me, Your Majesty, but I cannot ask for anything more. The scriptures say that a merchant can ask for one boon, a warrior for two, and a priest for a hundred. I am a warrior woman, so I cannot ask for more than these two boons. Greed destroys righteousness, Your Majesty. My husbands are virtuous, and by freeing them from servitude, they will achieve greater good through their virtue."

In the background, Bhima's voice rumbled with the fervor of a storm, "Our luck is truly unfortunate. Sage Devala has said that men have three strengths: children, work, and knowledge. Today, Panchali's insult has tainted even our children. Your Majesty, please allow me, and I will destroy all enemies today. Then you shall rule this world."

But Yudhishthira, ever the voice of calm and reason, interjected, "No, elder brother, be calm. Why should good people be upset by what lowly people say? You cannot do anything without King Yudhishthira's command. Elder brother Bhima, be calm and restrained."

Dhritarashtra's voice, filled with the weight of age and authority, reached out to his nephew. "Dear elder father, we are your loyal subjects, and we are under your command. Please tell us what to do now, Your Majesty."

"Yudhishthira, enemy-less one, may you be blessed, my child. I return all your wealth, kingdom, servants, horses, elephants, chariots, and weapons. Now, return to your kingdom peacefully with Panchali. My son, rule the kingdom. You are truly righteous and understand the subtle ways of righteousness. You are humble, and you have behaved like a saint in this assembly. Noble people never see faults in others. Yudhishthira, you have done just that. Only you truly think of people's welfare," Dhritarashtra declared, his words carrying the weight of a father's love and a king's command.

"My child, I have a request for you," Dhritarashtra continued, his voice a gentle plea.

"What are you saying, Your Majesty? It is not a request, but an order," Yudhishthira replied, bowing his head in deference.

"Please do not remember the cruelty of today's assembly, Yudhishthira. I am your old blind father, and Gandhari is your mother. May your duties and goodwill towards us always remain, my son."

"I bow to your command, Your Majesty. You and the elder mother have always been our most revered, and you will continue to be so. Now, please grant us permission, Your Majesty, to journey to Indraprastha," Yudhishthira said, his voice steady and respectful.

With Dhritarashtra's blessing, Draupadi and the five Pandavas set out on their journey to Indraprastha. The people cheered their names, their voices a chorus of hope and renewal. But amidst the celebration, Dushasana, the arrogant and cruel prince, could not bear the Pandavas' victorious journey. Seething with rage, he rushed to his brother, Crown Prince Duryodhana, who sat on a golden throne surrounded by ministers and courtiers.

"Dear Dushasana, why are you so worried?" Duryodhana asked, his voice laced with curiosity and a hint of malice. "The king is old and may make mistakes. But why do you forget that what is given can be taken back?"

Chapter 5: The Plot Thickens

Dushasana's eyes gleamed with a sinister light as he listened to his brother's words. "Yes, Dushasana," Duryodhana continued, his voice dripping with confidence. "Uncle Shakuni is right. There's no need for you to worry. Before the Pandavas can even reach their kingdom, we will seize Indraprastha. But first, you must visit the king again."

With a determined nod, Duryodhana left his friends and made his way to the private chambers of King Dhritarashtra. He requested the room be cleared of servants, leaving just the two of them alone. Duryodhana leaned forward, his voice urgent and persuasive. "Father, you have let the Pandavas, who are as dangerous as a coiled snake, go free. They are already angry, and their ally kings will surely share in their fury. If they all attack Hastinapur, can we truly defend it, Your Majesty?"

King Dhritarashtra paused, a flicker of doubt crossing his face. "No, my son, do not worry," he replied, attempting to sound reassuring. "Yudhishthir promised me peace."

Duryodhana's eyes flashed with frustration. "Your Majesty, you are placing your trust in our enemies' words. Yudhishthir may be righteous, but have you forgotten about Bhim and Arjun? They will never accept the insult to Draupadi. You underestimate how much influence Bhim and Arjun hold over Yudhishthir. If they sway him, whose counsel will he heed—yours or his brothers'?"

The king listened intently as Duryodhana continued, his voice growing more intense. "Do you know how Arjun departed, Your Majesty? He climbed onto his chariot, his powerful bow and arrows in full display, breathing heavily like a storm. We have heard that the Pandavas are readying their army."

King Dhritarashtra nodded slowly. "I understand, Duryodhana. Even though I know the other four Pandavas are loyal to Yudhishthir, we must remain vigilant."

"You are right, Father," Duryodhana agreed, a sly smile playing on his lips. "There is a saying that one should not leave an enemy behind. I have devised a plan, Your Majesty. We can take all the Pandavas' wealth and distribute it among their loyal kings, turning them against the Pandavas. But how do we acquire that wealth? We invite them to another dice game..."

He paused, letting the idea sink in. "We should block their return to their kingdom. Let us play with the condition that the loser must go to the forest for twelve years and remain hidden for one year. If we lose, we will accept the same fate. But with Uncle Shakuni on our side, we can't lose. The Pandavas will surely go to the forest, and our enemies will be no more. We can begin gathering allies. Even if the Pandavas return, they won't reclaim the throne of Indraprastha. Please, Father, agree to my plan."

King Dhritarashtra sighed, his resolve weakening. "If the Pandavas have gone far away, make arrangements to bring them back. Let them play dice with you again."

"As you wish, Father," Duryodhana replied, a triumphant gleam in his eyes. "I will make the arrangements right away."

Chapter 6: A Mother's Plea

The news of King Dhritarashtra's decision spread quickly, reaching the queen's quarters. Queen Gandhari, hearing of the king's orders, trembled with fear for the future. She was already burdened by the consequences of the sin that had occurred once in the royal court. If this sin happened again, hope for the survival of their noble family would be lost. Gandhari was deeply worried, her heart heavy with anxiety for her children's future. She knew she had to stop this wrongdoing at any cost.

With determination, Queen Gandhari made her way to King Dhritarashtra's chamber, her mind set on a special request. "I have come to you for an important reason, my king," she announced as she entered.

"Come in, my queen," replied the king, his voice gentle. "You only come here when it's necessary."

Gandhari took a deep breath, her voice filled with earnestness. "Forgive me, my king. I speak from my heart. Talking about righteousness and justice seems pointless now. I have spoken many times before, but your deep love for your son has made you just a devoted father, not a king."

King Dhritarashtra's brow furrowed. "Isn't Duryodhana your son too, Gandhari? Aren't you his mother?" he asked.

"Of course, I am his mother," Gandhari replied, her voice steady. "But I value righteousness and principles more than affection, my king. That's why I trust the wise minister Vidura's words more than my own brother's. Do not give Duryodhana more than he deserves, my king. I beg you with folded hands. Our family already bears much disgrace because of him. If this disgrace grows heavier, there will be no escape, my king."

Her words hung in the air, a desperate plea for justice and wisdom in a world where both seemed to be slipping away.

Chapter 7: The Weight of Fate

Gandhari's voice trembled with a mixture of sorrow and conviction. "Gandhari, I have seen that you value Vidura more than Duryodhana," the king said, his tone edged with frustration. "If Duryodhana has any faults, remember he is your heir, Gandhari. Don't forget that he is your future."

A shadow of pain crossed Gandhari's face. "Duryodhana being my son is the greatest pain, my king," she replied softly. "I cannot forget that pain even if I want to. I remember the signs of bad omens when he was born, my king. After his birth, the wise Vidura warned you. He said that this child would bring disgrace to the family..."

Her words echoed with the memory of Vidura's grave warning, "Destroy him, or else a terrible disaster will come to your kingdom." Gandhari's voice was steady as she continued, "You did not listen to him, my king. If you had, this great fear would not have come today. I am your queen, Duryodhana's mother, Gandhari. I am telling you, this son will one day destroy the Kuru dynasty, my king."

The king's eyes widened with disbelief. "Gandhari, what are you saying, my queen?"

"You still have the power to change things, my king," Gandhari urged. "Not everything is lost yet. Discipline your misguided son. Do not listen to their demands, my king. Do not let the destruction of this great Bharata dynasty fall upon you. Why are you reigniting a fire that has already been put out? The Pandavas have found peace with great difficulty, my king. Why are you calling them to play dice again?"

Gandhari's gaze was firm, her resolve unyielding. "A mischievous boy cannot be disciplined by any teachings. But you are a wise king. Why are you behaving like a child? I am Gandhari, bound by fate. Whatever fate desires will happen. How can I stop it? Forgive me, my king. It is not fate, but you are under Duryodhana's influence. You mistake your deep affection for Duryodhana as fate. Right now, let go of the troublemaker, my king. You will see peace and happiness return to your family. Royal fortune cannot rest on a cruel person, my king. Fortune becomes angry. A gentle and righteous person is the true bearer of royal fortune. You know this, my king."

Her plea was sincere, filled with the desperation of a mother and a queen. "I have a request, my king."

Dhritarashtra sighed heavily, his voice weary. "What do you wish for, Gandhari?"

"Bring back the happiness, comfort, and peace that once graced our family, my king. Do not let your family be destroyed. This is my plea to you."

The king's face was shadowed with regret. "No, Gandhari, I cannot save this family from destruction. Do not ask this of me, my queen. Let the sons do as they wish. I cannot stop them. They want to play dice with the Pandavas again. I have given my permission, Gandhari, and I cannot take it back."

With those words, the king sealed the fate of his family. This time, instead of Vidura, Dhritarashtra sent a messenger to Yudhishthira. He didn't even touch Vidura. The messenger conveyed the royal command for Yudhishthira to return to Hastinapur for the dice game. Bhima, Arjuna, Nakula, and Sahadeva were filled with deep darkness. Should Yudhishthira prioritize his brothers' anger, Draupadi's humiliation, or Dhritarashtra's order?

The emperor of Indraprastha seemed truly troubled. What new suffering awaited him, he did not know. I am Krishna Dvaipayana Vyasa. I know this is a very difficult time for Yudhishthira. Accepting fate's decision, the five Pandavas left their kingdom dressed as ascetics. Seeing Draupadi in a beggar's attire left the people of the kingdom bewildered. Meanwhile, the Pandavas' mother could not bear to be away from her sons. What will happen now? Will she also take to the road?

The story continues as the shadows of fate loom large over the Kuru dynasty.