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Mahabharata #4
The Mahabharata
The Greatest Story Ever Told Dispute over land and kingdom may lie at the heart of this story of war between cousins-the Pandavas and the Kouravas-but the Mahabharata is about conflicts of dharma. These conflicts are immense and various, singular and commonplace. Throughout the epic, characters face them with no clear indications of what is right and what is wrong; there are no absolute answers. Thus every possible human emotion features in the Mahabharata, the reason the epic continues to hold sway over our imagination. In this superb and widely acclaimed translation of the complete Mahabharata, Bibek Debroy takes us on a great journey with incredible ease.
624 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 401
32 people are currently reading
479 people want to read
About the author
Bibek Debroy
158 books394 followersBibek Debroy was an Indian economist, who served as the chairman of the Economic Advisory Council to the Prime Minister of India. He was also the Chairman of the Finance Ministry's 'Expert Committee for Infrastructure Classification and Financing Framework for Amrit Kaal'. Debroy has made significant contributions to game theory, economic theory, income and social inequalities, poverty, law reforms, railway reforms and Indology among others. From its inception in January 2015 until June 2019, Mr. Debroy was a member of the NITI Aayog, the think tank of the Indian Government. He was awarded the Padma Shri (the fourth-highest civilian honour in India) in 2015.
Bibek Debroy's recent co-authored magnum opus, Inked in India, stands distinguished as the premier comprehensive documentation, capturing the entirety of recognized fountain pen, nib, and ink manufacturers in India.
In 2016, he was awarded the Lifetime Achievement Award by the US-India Business Summit. In 2022, he was conferred with the Lifetime Achievement Award by The Australia India Chamber of Commerce (AICC). In February 2024, Debroy was conferred Insolvency Law Academy Emeritus Fellowship, in recognition of his distinguished leadership, public service, work and contributions in the field of insolvency.
Bibek Debroy died on 1 November 2024, at the age of 69. He had been admitted to All India Institutes of Medical Sciences in New Delhi one month prior.
Bibek Debroy's recent co-authored magnum opus, Inked in India, stands distinguished as the premier comprehensive documentation, capturing the entirety of recognized fountain pen, nib, and ink manufacturers in India.
In 2016, he was awarded the Lifetime Achievement Award by the US-India Business Summit. In 2022, he was conferred with the Lifetime Achievement Award by The Australia India Chamber of Commerce (AICC). In February 2024, Debroy was conferred Insolvency Law Academy Emeritus Fellowship, in recognition of his distinguished leadership, public service, work and contributions in the field of insolvency.
Bibek Debroy died on 1 November 2024, at the age of 69. He had been admitted to All India Institutes of Medical Sciences in New Delhi one month prior.
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Displaying 1 - 18 of 18 reviews
January 27, 2022
One question which always baffles me, if Arjun defeated everyone during the Virat Yudh, what was the need of the battle, he could have single-handedly defeated all of them again. I've read few analysis and always debated it amongst my family and friends, but still the heroic endeavours shown during that war during their exile seems too heroic and baffling.
Karna obviously comes out as the most intriguing character, there are parts wherein he's portrayed as wicked and evil while other parts wherein he's this noble and honourable warrior who definitely shines out. Also, he was the true heir which is always debatable yet factually justified.
The war could have been avoided but then again the absurdity of the text is what makes it so relevant and perfect.
Karna obviously comes out as the most intriguing character, there are parts wherein he's portrayed as wicked and evil while other parts wherein he's this noble and honourable warrior who definitely shines out. Also, he was the true heir which is always debatable yet factually justified.
The war could have been avoided but then again the absurdity of the text is what makes it so relevant and perfect.
July 16, 2013
"Negotiating and Preparing - The Inexorable March to Destruction"
With the twelfth year of exile coming to a close, the Pandavas need to - "... spend the thirteenth year in disguise, but in inhabited places", as per the conditions of the bet (Ch 292, Anudyuta Parva). They settle upon the Matsya kingdom, and decide how each of the six is going to disguise themselves and enter the kingdom. The thirteenth year safely negotiated, but not without Bheema almost giving the game away, twice, and a concerted effort by Duryodhana to force the Pandavas to come out of hiding, the negotiations begin. The Pandavas ask for their kingdom, and the Kauravas refuse. After several rounds of discussions, war is inevitable. The preparations for the war begin, and the last sub-Parva in this volume ends with Bhishma, the commander of the Kuru army, enumerating the warriors on both sides - Ratha-Atiratha Samkhya.
This fourth volume contains the entire Virata Parva, the fourth parva (as per the 18-parva classification), and most of the fifth parva, Udyoga Parva. Going by the 100-sub-Parva classification it contains Sub-Parvas 45 through 59, the 45th Sub-Parva being Vairata Parva, while the 59th Sub-Parvas is Ratha-Atiratha Samkhya. Vol. 4 contains all the sections (adhyayas) of the Udyoga Parva, with the exception of the last adhyayay, Ambopakyana Parva, which I guess recalls the tale of Amba after she left the Kuru assembly, seething with rage and looking for revenge against Bhishma. The longest parva in this volume is Bhagavat-Yana Parva, clocking in at 2055 shlokas, which, as the name suggests, covers Lord Krishna's travel to Hastinapur to plead for peace one last time.
My complete review at http://blog.abhinavagarwal.net/2012/0...
With the twelfth year of exile coming to a close, the Pandavas need to - "... spend the thirteenth year in disguise, but in inhabited places", as per the conditions of the bet (Ch 292, Anudyuta Parva). They settle upon the Matsya kingdom, and decide how each of the six is going to disguise themselves and enter the kingdom. The thirteenth year safely negotiated, but not without Bheema almost giving the game away, twice, and a concerted effort by Duryodhana to force the Pandavas to come out of hiding, the negotiations begin. The Pandavas ask for their kingdom, and the Kauravas refuse. After several rounds of discussions, war is inevitable. The preparations for the war begin, and the last sub-Parva in this volume ends with Bhishma, the commander of the Kuru army, enumerating the warriors on both sides - Ratha-Atiratha Samkhya.
This fourth volume contains the entire Virata Parva, the fourth parva (as per the 18-parva classification), and most of the fifth parva, Udyoga Parva. Going by the 100-sub-Parva classification it contains Sub-Parvas 45 through 59, the 45th Sub-Parva being Vairata Parva, while the 59th Sub-Parvas is Ratha-Atiratha Samkhya. Vol. 4 contains all the sections (adhyayas) of the Udyoga Parva, with the exception of the last adhyayay, Ambopakyana Parva, which I guess recalls the tale of Amba after she left the Kuru assembly, seething with rage and looking for revenge against Bhishma. The longest parva in this volume is Bhagavat-Yana Parva, clocking in at 2055 shlokas, which, as the name suggests, covers Lord Krishna's travel to Hastinapur to plead for peace one last time.
My complete review at http://blog.abhinavagarwal.net/2012/0...
November 6, 2016
This contains the last bit of the exile in the forest, in which the Pandavas are in hiding. A war breaks out and Arjuna beats everyone up (amusingly, in the guise of a eunuch). And then there's a long series of negotiations, which eventually and obviously fail, and the armies march to battle.
August 29, 2017
I loved it ❤
December 8, 2025
Back in December 2018, a small accident left me with a spinal injury, forcing me to stay in bed for more than two weeks. Outside my room, the world was moving through a momentous winter: the passing of former U.S. President George H. W. Bush, headline-making decisions at the G20 Summit in Argentina, and the afterglow of the dramatic Thailand cave rescue that had captured global attention earlier that year. India, too, had its own share of notable events—sharp cold waves sweeping across the north, the country retaining its position as the world’s largest receiver of remittances, and celebrations in the fields of literature and sports, including Amitav Ghosh being honoured with the Jnanpith Award.
Amid this combination of personal stillness and global motion, I found one unexpected gift of time: the opportunity to read through all ten volumes of Bibek Debroy’s complete English translation of the Mahabharata.
When I arrived at Volume 4 of Debroy’s Mahabharata translation, I felt the shift almost physically — as if someone had gently tugged me out of the dense forest of Vana Parva and dropped me onto a threshold where the air hummed with suspense.
After twelve long years of wandering, of grief and philosophy, of austerity and anger, the Pandavas step into Matsya, the kingdom of Virata, to begin their year of living incognito.
And I, still lying with my uncooperative spine during that difficult winter of 2018, felt the irony blooming inside me. Here I was, motionless, and the Pandavas were about to disguise themselves, to hide in plain sight, to transform into roles that tested not their bodies but their identities.
Exile had taught them to survive the forest; now it would teach them to vanish.
Virata Parva is one of the shortest volumes in Debroy’s translation, but strangely, it pulses with a kind of nervous energy that the earlier ones didn’t. If the forest was a place of introspection, Matsya is a place of performance.
Everyone becomes an actor, slipping into masks and borrowed names, as if the epic momentarily becomes a Shakespearean comedy — the kind where the stakes are life and death, but everyone still ends up pretending to be someone else.
I couldn’t help but think of Shakespeare’s itch for disguise: Viola in ‘Twelfth Night’, Rosalind in ‘As You Like It’, even Kent in ‘King Lear’. Vyasa seems to know the same truth Shakespeare did centuries later — that sometimes the only way to reveal a character is to force them into hiding.
Debroy’s translation handles this transition with an admirable sense of control. There is no over-explanation, no theatrical flourish; he trusts the text’s strange blend of tension and comedy.
He lets Bhima’s playful bravado speak for itself, lets Arjuna’s transformation into Brihannala carry its layered dignity, and lets Yudhishthira’s calm Gambhira persona become its own quiet irony. And every time I read these sections, I feel that odd intimacy again — that connection between their forced restraint and my own physical inability to move.
They had to disappear into new roles; I had to disappear into stillness. Both forms of invisibility, though wildly different, felt strangely parallel.
The arrival in Matsya unfolds like a piece of theatre. Yudhishthira becomes Kanka, the gentle courtier-dice-player; Bhima becomes Vallabha, the palace cook with fists strong enough to knead destiny; Arjuna becomes Brihannala, the gender-fluid dance teacher whose presence feels like a tender ripple across the epic; Nakula turns into the horse-keeper Granthika; Sahadeva slips into the role of cowherd Tantipala; and Draupadi becomes Sairandhri, maid to Queen Sudeshna.
Each role is chosen with precision — each role reveals something essential about the character.
And as I followed them into these disguises, I realised something: exile in the forest taught them humility, but exile in Matsya teaches them adaptability. It’s one thing to suffer openly; it’s another to suffer silently while smiling politely at your oppressors.
Rabindranath would have understood this duality instantly. He wrote often about the paradox of identity — how the self becomes both mask and revelation, how dignity is preserved not by grand gestures but by small, invisible acts of integrity. Virata Parva is basically that idea in narrative form.
The drama of this volume starts quietly, almost deceptively. Life in Matsya seems calm on the surface, but beneath it simmer the anxieties of recognition. Every moment feels like the epic is holding its breath. The Kauravas loom in the background like storm clouds waiting to burst.
And through all this, Draupadi stands like a burning thread — the only one among the Pandavas whose disguise feels catastrophic from the very beginning.
Her torment begins with Kichaka, the powerful commander of Matsya’s forces, whose lust turns the palace into a battlefield of a different kind. And every time I read this part, the same knot forms in my stomach.
Her plea to Bhima, her rage, her humiliation, her refusal to be crushed — all of it has the fire of Rabindranath’s women, the defiance of Shakespeare’s heroines, the quiet, fierce glow of someone who refuses to let fate dictate her self-worth. In my injured stillness, Draupadi’s screams felt unbearably real, like echoes of all the helplessness I was trying to swallow.
Her suffering in Matsya is not physical alone — it’s existential. She knows she cannot reveal her identity. She knows justice in exile is justice denied. And yet she refuses to break.
When Bhima finally answers her plea, it is one of the most satisfying moments of the entire epic. He crushes Kichaka with a mixture of fury and tenderness, a kind of violent compassion that only Bhima is capable of.
And I, reading this while trapped in my own body, felt that vicarious release, as if Bhima’s blow struck something inside me too — all the frustration, all the helplessness, all the pent-up energy of immobility. Debroy translates this episode without sensationalism.
His restraint makes it sharper, more chilling, more honest. He doesn’t dramatise Bhima’s violence — he lets it stand as the moral consequence of Draupadi’s violation.
But Virata Parva isn’t just about hidden suffering. It’s also about patience, timing, and the slow, delicious inevitability of identity breaking through disguise. The Kauravas eventually attack Matsya, sensing the Pandavas’ presence like predators smelling blood.
And this is where the volume turns from comedy of concealment into an action drama with a Shakespearean twist — the moment when the masks fall away and the heroes reclaim themselves, not through grand declarations but through the sheer impossibility of hiding their greatness any longer.
Arjuna’s return to warriorhood is the brightest moment in this transformation. Him emerging from the dance hall, shedding the gentle grace of Brihannala and picking up the Gandiva again — it’s goosebump material.
It’s like watching an actor step out of costume and reveal the truth beneath. Shakespeare’s kings in exile always return with a burst of destiny — think Henry IV, or Malcolm’s rise in ‘Macbeth’ — and Arjuna’s emergence feels exactly like that. The kingship is not in the crown; it is in the spirit asserting itself.
Debroy translates this section with almost reverent clarity. The descriptions of Arjuna’s chariot, the vibration of the Gandiva, the way the earth seems to recognise his return — none of it feels overblown, yet all of it feels mythic.
I found myself sitting up slightly straighter (as much as the spine allowed) every time I reread it, as if the epic’s energy was tugging me upright.
Bhima too has his moment in the battle — tearing through enemies with his familiar, affectionate brutality. Yudhishthira guides; Nakula and Sahadeva hold their positions with disciplined grace.
Even Virata’s son Uttara, initially terrified, becomes a small but necessary part of the drama, bolstered by Arjuna’s calm mentorship.
Virata Parva ends with the Pandavas revealing their identities in a scene that feels almost theatrical — a sudden shift from mystery to revelation, like the final act of a Shakespearean play where the characters unmask themselves and reassert their true names.
The shock of King Virata, the awe, the embarrassment, the joy — Debroy presents it with a steady hand, letting the moment breathe without forcing grandeur. And for me, reading it in that state of physical helplessness, the moment felt oddly empowering.
It whispered something very simple: that identity can be suppressed but not erased, that strength adapts but does not die, that waiting — however painful — can become a kind of discipline.
What stayed with me most after finishing Volume 4 was not the battle, not the disguises, not even the satisfying justice of Kichaka’s death. It was the idea that exile has stages.
First comes the shock of being uprooted. Then comes the struggle of surviving. Then the long, grinding quiet of introspection. And finally this: the test of humility, the test of becoming smaller so that one day you can rise without arrogance.
In the Geeta, Krishna says, ‘Karmanye vadhikaraste ma phaleshu kadachana’ — you have the right to action, not to the fruits. Virata Parva is the living embodiment of that idea. The Pandavas act because they must, endure because they must, hide because they must, reveal themselves because the time has finally come.
When I closed Volume 4, I felt something shift — not in my spine, unfortunately, but in the space where frustration had been coiled like a tight spring. Patience suddenly seemed less like a burden and more like a strategy.
Waiting felt less oppressive and more purposeful. And I realised that the epic had slipped something into my hands without me noticing: a quiet lesson in transformation.
Virata Parva taught me that exile is not just a place you survive — it’s a place you learn how to return.
Read and reread. Keep reading. Every reading gives you a new meaning.
Amid this combination of personal stillness and global motion, I found one unexpected gift of time: the opportunity to read through all ten volumes of Bibek Debroy’s complete English translation of the Mahabharata.
When I arrived at Volume 4 of Debroy’s Mahabharata translation, I felt the shift almost physically — as if someone had gently tugged me out of the dense forest of Vana Parva and dropped me onto a threshold where the air hummed with suspense.
After twelve long years of wandering, of grief and philosophy, of austerity and anger, the Pandavas step into Matsya, the kingdom of Virata, to begin their year of living incognito.
And I, still lying with my uncooperative spine during that difficult winter of 2018, felt the irony blooming inside me. Here I was, motionless, and the Pandavas were about to disguise themselves, to hide in plain sight, to transform into roles that tested not their bodies but their identities.
Exile had taught them to survive the forest; now it would teach them to vanish.
Virata Parva is one of the shortest volumes in Debroy’s translation, but strangely, it pulses with a kind of nervous energy that the earlier ones didn’t. If the forest was a place of introspection, Matsya is a place of performance.
Everyone becomes an actor, slipping into masks and borrowed names, as if the epic momentarily becomes a Shakespearean comedy — the kind where the stakes are life and death, but everyone still ends up pretending to be someone else.
I couldn’t help but think of Shakespeare’s itch for disguise: Viola in ‘Twelfth Night’, Rosalind in ‘As You Like It’, even Kent in ‘King Lear’. Vyasa seems to know the same truth Shakespeare did centuries later — that sometimes the only way to reveal a character is to force them into hiding.
Debroy’s translation handles this transition with an admirable sense of control. There is no over-explanation, no theatrical flourish; he trusts the text’s strange blend of tension and comedy.
He lets Bhima’s playful bravado speak for itself, lets Arjuna’s transformation into Brihannala carry its layered dignity, and lets Yudhishthira’s calm Gambhira persona become its own quiet irony. And every time I read these sections, I feel that odd intimacy again — that connection between their forced restraint and my own physical inability to move.
They had to disappear into new roles; I had to disappear into stillness. Both forms of invisibility, though wildly different, felt strangely parallel.
The arrival in Matsya unfolds like a piece of theatre. Yudhishthira becomes Kanka, the gentle courtier-dice-player; Bhima becomes Vallabha, the palace cook with fists strong enough to knead destiny; Arjuna becomes Brihannala, the gender-fluid dance teacher whose presence feels like a tender ripple across the epic; Nakula turns into the horse-keeper Granthika; Sahadeva slips into the role of cowherd Tantipala; and Draupadi becomes Sairandhri, maid to Queen Sudeshna.
Each role is chosen with precision — each role reveals something essential about the character.
And as I followed them into these disguises, I realised something: exile in the forest taught them humility, but exile in Matsya teaches them adaptability. It’s one thing to suffer openly; it’s another to suffer silently while smiling politely at your oppressors.
Rabindranath would have understood this duality instantly. He wrote often about the paradox of identity — how the self becomes both mask and revelation, how dignity is preserved not by grand gestures but by small, invisible acts of integrity. Virata Parva is basically that idea in narrative form.
The drama of this volume starts quietly, almost deceptively. Life in Matsya seems calm on the surface, but beneath it simmer the anxieties of recognition. Every moment feels like the epic is holding its breath. The Kauravas loom in the background like storm clouds waiting to burst.
And through all this, Draupadi stands like a burning thread — the only one among the Pandavas whose disguise feels catastrophic from the very beginning.
Her torment begins with Kichaka, the powerful commander of Matsya’s forces, whose lust turns the palace into a battlefield of a different kind. And every time I read this part, the same knot forms in my stomach.
Her plea to Bhima, her rage, her humiliation, her refusal to be crushed — all of it has the fire of Rabindranath’s women, the defiance of Shakespeare’s heroines, the quiet, fierce glow of someone who refuses to let fate dictate her self-worth. In my injured stillness, Draupadi’s screams felt unbearably real, like echoes of all the helplessness I was trying to swallow.
Her suffering in Matsya is not physical alone — it’s existential. She knows she cannot reveal her identity. She knows justice in exile is justice denied. And yet she refuses to break.
When Bhima finally answers her plea, it is one of the most satisfying moments of the entire epic. He crushes Kichaka with a mixture of fury and tenderness, a kind of violent compassion that only Bhima is capable of.
And I, reading this while trapped in my own body, felt that vicarious release, as if Bhima’s blow struck something inside me too — all the frustration, all the helplessness, all the pent-up energy of immobility. Debroy translates this episode without sensationalism.
His restraint makes it sharper, more chilling, more honest. He doesn’t dramatise Bhima’s violence — he lets it stand as the moral consequence of Draupadi’s violation.
But Virata Parva isn’t just about hidden suffering. It’s also about patience, timing, and the slow, delicious inevitability of identity breaking through disguise. The Kauravas eventually attack Matsya, sensing the Pandavas’ presence like predators smelling blood.
And this is where the volume turns from comedy of concealment into an action drama with a Shakespearean twist — the moment when the masks fall away and the heroes reclaim themselves, not through grand declarations but through the sheer impossibility of hiding their greatness any longer.
Arjuna’s return to warriorhood is the brightest moment in this transformation. Him emerging from the dance hall, shedding the gentle grace of Brihannala and picking up the Gandiva again — it’s goosebump material.
It’s like watching an actor step out of costume and reveal the truth beneath. Shakespeare’s kings in exile always return with a burst of destiny — think Henry IV, or Malcolm’s rise in ‘Macbeth’ — and Arjuna’s emergence feels exactly like that. The kingship is not in the crown; it is in the spirit asserting itself.
Debroy translates this section with almost reverent clarity. The descriptions of Arjuna’s chariot, the vibration of the Gandiva, the way the earth seems to recognise his return — none of it feels overblown, yet all of it feels mythic.
I found myself sitting up slightly straighter (as much as the spine allowed) every time I reread it, as if the epic’s energy was tugging me upright.
Bhima too has his moment in the battle — tearing through enemies with his familiar, affectionate brutality. Yudhishthira guides; Nakula and Sahadeva hold their positions with disciplined grace.
Even Virata’s son Uttara, initially terrified, becomes a small but necessary part of the drama, bolstered by Arjuna’s calm mentorship.
Virata Parva ends with the Pandavas revealing their identities in a scene that feels almost theatrical — a sudden shift from mystery to revelation, like the final act of a Shakespearean play where the characters unmask themselves and reassert their true names.
The shock of King Virata, the awe, the embarrassment, the joy — Debroy presents it with a steady hand, letting the moment breathe without forcing grandeur. And for me, reading it in that state of physical helplessness, the moment felt oddly empowering.
It whispered something very simple: that identity can be suppressed but not erased, that strength adapts but does not die, that waiting — however painful — can become a kind of discipline.
What stayed with me most after finishing Volume 4 was not the battle, not the disguises, not even the satisfying justice of Kichaka’s death. It was the idea that exile has stages.
First comes the shock of being uprooted. Then comes the struggle of surviving. Then the long, grinding quiet of introspection. And finally this: the test of humility, the test of becoming smaller so that one day you can rise without arrogance.
In the Geeta, Krishna says, ‘Karmanye vadhikaraste ma phaleshu kadachana’ — you have the right to action, not to the fruits. Virata Parva is the living embodiment of that idea. The Pandavas act because they must, endure because they must, hide because they must, reveal themselves because the time has finally come.
When I closed Volume 4, I felt something shift — not in my spine, unfortunately, but in the space where frustration had been coiled like a tight spring. Patience suddenly seemed less like a burden and more like a strategy.
Waiting felt less oppressive and more purposeful. And I realised that the epic had slipped something into my hands without me noticing: a quiet lesson in transformation.
Virata Parva taught me that exile is not just a place you survive — it’s a place you learn how to return.
Read and reread. Keep reading. Every reading gives you a new meaning.
Read
July 13, 2021There is a major mistranslation I want to notify readers in the book.
The bold italic one is severely mistranslated. Let's analyze what's wrong here. Sixth period means sixth part of the day, dusk (1.dawn, 2.morning, 3.noon, 4.afternoon, 5.evening, 6.dusk, 7.night). And, dusk is considered the most auspicious time for activities like coronation. So, Krishna was merely mentioning that Draupadi along with other queens and princesses would come to Karna's coronation, if he chooses to side with Pandavas and war can be avoided.
KMG Mahabharata also did the same mistake.
Here also everything is correct except the things mentioned in brackets. Sanskrit verses does not have Krishna offering Draupadi to Karna as a wife. Gita Press Mahabharata translated from Sanskrit to Hindi also does not have such thing.
Let us see what the Sanskrit verses say about this.
The five Pandavas will grasp your feet as brothers, together with the five sons of Droupadi and Subhadra’s unvanquished son. The kings and princes who have gathered together in the cause of the Pandavas and all the Andhakas and Vrishnis will grasp your feet. The kings, the wives of kings and the daughters of kings will bring gold, silver and earthen vessels, herbs, all kinds of seeds, all kinds of gems and creepers for your anointment. At the sixth point in time, Draupadi will have intercourse with you.
Ref: Karna-Upanivada Parva ▶ Chapter 801(138)
The Mahabharata [Translated by Bibek Debroy]
The bold italic one is severely mistranslated. Let's analyze what's wrong here. Sixth period means sixth part of the day, dusk (1.dawn, 2.morning, 3.noon, 4.afternoon, 5.evening, 6.dusk, 7.night). And, dusk is considered the most auspicious time for activities like coronation. So, Krishna was merely mentioning that Draupadi along with other queens and princesses would come to Karna's coronation, if he chooses to side with Pandavas and war can be avoided.
KMG Mahabharata also did the same mistake.
The brothers, the five Pandavas, the son of Draupadi, and the invincible son of Subhadra, will all embrace thy feet. All the kings and princes, again, that have been assembled for the Pandava-cause, and all the Andhakas and Vrishnis, will also embrace thy feet. Let queens and princesses bring golden and silver and earthen jars (full of water) and delicious herbs and all kinds of seeds and gems, and creepers, for thy installation. During the sixth period, Draupadi also will come to thee (as a wife).
Here also everything is correct except the things mentioned in brackets. Sanskrit verses does not have Krishna offering Draupadi to Karna as a wife. Gita Press Mahabharata translated from Sanskrit to Hindi also does not have such thing.
Let us see what the Sanskrit verses say about this.
राजानॊ राजपुत्राश्च पाण्डवार्थे समागताः ।
पादौ तव गरहीष्यन्ति सर्वे चान्धकवृष्णयः ॥ ०१३ ॥
हिरण्मयांश च ते कुम्भान्राजतान्पार्थिवांस्तथा ।
ओषध्यः सर्वबीजानि सर्वरत्नानि वीरुधः ॥ ०१४ ॥
राजन्या राजकन्याश्चाप्यानयन्त्वभिषेचनम् ।
षष्ठे च तवां तथा काले द्रौपद्युपगमिष्यति ॥ ०१५ ॥
अद्य त्वामभिषिञ्चन्तु चातुर्वैद्या द्विजातयः ।
पुरॊहितः पाण्डवानां वयाघ्रचर्मण्यवस्थितम् ॥ ०१६ ॥
Ref: Karna-Upanivada Parva ▶ Chapter 138
Critical Edition of Sanskrit Mahabharata by BORI
November 28, 2025
A few weeks ago, when I was about halfway through this volume, I was feeling sad for unrelated reasons to the point that I worked myself up and couldn't sleep. When I realized I wasn't going to fall asleep anytime soon, I picked up the book and began where I left off, beginning a new chapter where an old king, burdened by his choice to enable his evil son's crimes, cannot sleep at night, knowing this will soon result in war.
"O Vidura! Sanjaya has returned. He has left after berating me. He will recount Ajatashatru's words in the midst of the assembly hall. I do not yet know the words that brave one among the Kurus has addressed towards me. Therefore, my body is burning and I am suffering from sleeplessness. What do you think should be heard by someone who is awake and whose mind is burning?"
Absolute cinema.
There really is, as an old saying goes, nothing that can't be found in this story, even if that's partially because of the length. I've felt every emotion reading it and I'm not even halfway through, but even then the best parts are characters grappling with the weight of their decisions and realizing that they just need to move forward, even if some of them don't. This book encompasses the entire spectrum of humanity.
Also sometimes they mention poo poo and pee pee, and if that doesn't reinforce my point, I don't know what will.
"O Vidura! Sanjaya has returned. He has left after berating me. He will recount Ajatashatru's words in the midst of the assembly hall. I do not yet know the words that brave one among the Kurus has addressed towards me. Therefore, my body is burning and I am suffering from sleeplessness. What do you think should be heard by someone who is awake and whose mind is burning?"
Absolute cinema.
There really is, as an old saying goes, nothing that can't be found in this story, even if that's partially because of the length. I've felt every emotion reading it and I'm not even halfway through, but even then the best parts are characters grappling with the weight of their decisions and realizing that they just need to move forward, even if some of them don't. This book encompasses the entire spectrum of humanity.
Also sometimes they mention poo poo and pee pee, and if that doesn't reinforce my point, I don't know what will.
June 11, 2020
Confusions, what's right and wrong, ego, misunderstanding and other human conflicts before a physical war unfolds. Messengers from Kauravas and Pandavas try to estimate the reality and consequences. Despise Krishna's best attempt, a war is inevitable. Karna is told his story but he stays unwavered despite knowing that he could be famous and rich if he changes his side. Just the beginning of the war at Kurukshetra, each army is sizing up their own and their enemies arsenal.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
April 18, 2023
This part of Mahabharat contains the part where Shree Krishna shows his whole swaroop for the first time in the Rajya sabha.. It made me have goosebumps.. I also made me want to watch BR Chopra's Mahabharat.. The scene in there is so understated.. I am loving this experience.. I will be reading Ami Ganatra's Mahabharat Unravelled..
Looking forward to finish this..
Book #9 series Indic books
Looking forward to finish this..
Book #9 series Indic books
January 6, 2019
The third star only because of the dramatic upheavals of Pandavas' thirteenth year in exile.
August 18, 2020
Last year in exile - disguises - epic battle for cattle - final warning - prepare for War
July 31, 2021
The language is simple and straightforward - no fancy, flowery stuff. According to the the 100-parva classification, this volume comprises sections 45 through 59.
September 5, 2024
Definitely goosebumps reading about the preparation for the war
August 4, 2025
... open war is now imminent. The suspense is killing me! 5/5
Base review here.
Base review here.
December 3, 2025
honestly fascinating
September 10, 2024
Volume 4 covers the Pandavas’ last year in fulfilling the terms of Yudhishthira’s lost gambling match. The family must come out from living in the forest and now live in civilization incognito. Arjuna comes out of hiding to defeat a Kuru cattle raiding party attack the kingdom they are residing now. Upon completion of their exile, the Pandavas begin negotiations with the Kurus for part of the Kingdom, which are denied. Preparations for war begin.
December 24, 2025
Really inspiring conversations around the start of the " WAR". The discussion around Dharma - between #
Yudhishthir and Sanjaya
Vidura and Dhritrashtra
Shri Krishna and Kunti
are simply " meaningful"
Yudhishthir and Sanjaya
Vidura and Dhritrashtra
Shri Krishna and Kunti
are simply " meaningful"
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