The city of Indraprastha was a testament to peace, a kingdom built on the foundations of Dharma. Under Yudhishthira's just and compassionate rule, the treasury overflowed, the granaries were full, and the citizens were so content that the very concept of crime seemed to have vanished. The Pandavas had achieved a perfect, self-contained prosperity. Yet, in the heart of a king, peace can sometimes breed a higher ambition—not for wealth or power, but for the establishment of a universal order.
One day, as Yudhishthira sat in his wondrous Maya Sabha, surrounded by his brothers and his ministers, the divine sage Narada appeared before him once more. After receiving the court's worship, Narada spoke of the heavens. He described the celestial court of Indra, where great kings of the past who had lived righteously now sat in glory. He also spoke of Yudhishthira's own father, King Pandu, who resided in the court of Yama, the God of Death and Justice, his spirit unable to ascend to Indra's heaven.
"Why, great sage?" Yudhishthira asked, his heart aching for his father. "My father was a virtuous king. Why is he denied a place among the gods?"
"Because, O King," Narada replied, "your father's work is incomplete. A king's legacy is fulfilled by his son. Pandu yearns to see you achieve the ultimate status for a mortal ruler. He wishes to see you perform the Rajasuya Yajna."
The words fell into the court like a thunderbolt. The Rajasuya was the greatest and most perilous of all royal sacrifices. It was a declaration by a king that he was a Chakravartin Samrat, an Emperor of the World, a universal sovereign to whom all other kings paid tribute. To perform it was to invite every other powerful king to either accept your supremacy or challenge you to war. It was a path to ultimate glory, but it was paved with blood and immense risk.
"If you successfully perform this great sacrifice," Narada concluded, "your father's spirit will be freed, and he will ascend to the highest heaven to sit beside Indra himself. The choice, King Yudhishthira, is yours." With that, the sage vanished, leaving behind a seed of divine ambition.
The idea took root in Yudhishthira's heart. To elevate his father's soul and to establish a universal reign of Dharma was a goal worthy of any sacrifice. Yet, his cautious nature warred with this newfound ambition. He summoned his brothers and ministers for counsel. They, filled with confidence in their own strength, unanimously supported the idea. Bhima and Arjuna were eager to prove their might, and the ministers saw it as the logical next step in their kingdom's glorious rise.
But Yudhishthira remained hesitant. He knew that such a declaration would be a direct challenge to the other great powers of the land. Before making a final decision, he knew there was only one person whose counsel could illuminate the entire complex web of politics and destiny. He sent an urgent message to Dwaraka, summoning his friend, his cousin, his divine guide: Krishna.
Krishna arrived in Indraprastha with the swiftness of thought. He entered the Maya Sabha, his serene smile a calming presence amidst the court's excited energy. Yudhishthira explained Narada's visit and the proposal of the Rajasuya.
"Tell me, Madhava," Yudhishthira pleaded, "am I worthy of this great undertaking? Is it a righteous path, or is it a path of vanity that will lead to the death of millions?"
Krishna listened patiently. His expression grew serious. "You are, without question, the only king on earth worthy of the title of Emperor, Yudhishthira," he began, his voice resonating with truth. "Your heart is pure, your rule is just, and you possess brothers whose might is unequaled. The world yearns for a universal monarch who rules with Dharma, and you are that monarch. To perform the Rajasuya is your destiny."
A wave of relief washed over Yudhishthira. But Krishna raised a hand.
"However," he continued, his voice taking on a graver tone, "you cannot perform this sacrifice yet. The title of Emperor is not vacant. As long as one great obstacle remains, your claim will be contested, and your sacrifice will be incomplete. As long as he lives, the world will never know peace."
"Who is this obstacle?" Arjuna asked, his hand instinctively moving towards the Gandiva.
"He is the Emperor of Magadha," Krishna said, and the name fell into the hall with a chilling weight. "Jarasandha."
Krishna then recounted the story of this monstrous king, a tale known and feared throughout the land. Jarasandha was the son of King Brihadratha of Magadha, who had been unable to father a child. A great sage, Chandakaushika, took pity on the king and gave him a single, enchanted mango, telling him to give it to his queen to eat. But the king had two wives whom he loved equally, and so he cut the mango in half, giving a piece to each. In time, both queens gave birth, but not to whole children. Each delivered a grotesque, lifeless half of a baby.
Horrified, the king ordered the two halves to be thrown away in the forest. That night, a powerful Rakshasi named Jara, a demoness who could join things together, was passing by. She found the two living halves of the infant and, out of idle curiosity, she put them together. The moment the two halves touched, they fused into a single, whole child who let out a mighty roar that shook the trees. Jara, seeing the miraculous baby, returned him to the king. In gratitude, the king named his son Jarasandha—'he who was joined by Jara'.
"He was born of two mothers and joined by a demon," Krishna explained. "His body possesses a supernatural resilience. He is a devotee of Lord Shiva and has been granted boons that make him nearly invincible in battle. His strength is immense, and his cruelty is boundless. He has conquered hundreds of kingdoms, not through righteous warfare, but through brutal subjugation."
Krishna's face grew dark. "But his greatest sin, the act that makes him a cancer upon this earth, is his blasphemous vow. He has captured eighty-six kings and holds them prisoner in the dungeons beneath his capital, Girivraja. He plans to capture fourteen more, to make a total of one hundred. And then, on a great sacrificial day, he intends to behead all one hundred kings as a human sacrifice to Lord Shiva, believing this ultimate act of cruelty will grant him absolute power over the three worlds."
A horrified silence gripped the assembly. The sacrifice of kings was the most heinous act of adharma imaginable.
"As long as Jarasandha lives," Krishna stated, "no Rajasuya is possible. He is the Emperor of fear. You cannot declare yourself the Emperor of Dharma while he holds the world in his thrall. He must be defeated."
"Then we shall march on Magadha!" Bhima roared, leaping to his feet. "Let us take our army and the army of Panchala and crush this demon-king! I will personally tear down the walls of his city!"
Krishna shook his head. "It is not so simple, Bhima. Jarasandha's armies are vast. He has powerful allies, including the mighty Shishupala of Chedi. A direct war would be long, bloody, and the outcome uncertain. It would cost hundreds of thousands of lives. There is another way. A more direct path, though it is fraught with peril."
He looked at the three brothers—Bhima, the strength; Arjuna, the skill; and himself, the intellect. "Jarasandha has a peculiar code of honor. As a Kshatriya, he will never refuse a challenge to a personal duel. And as a Brahmin-devotee, he will never refuse a request made by Brahmins who come to his court at the proper time."
A plan began to form in the eyes of the Pandavas.
"The three of us," Krishna said, indicating himself, Bhima, and Arjuna, "will travel to Magadha. We will go in disguise, as wandering Snataka Brahmins. We will enter his capital, bypass his armies, and approach him directly in his court. We will then throw off our disguises and challenge him. Not to a battle of armies, but to a wrestling duel. He is proud of his physical strength and will surely accept. He will choose a champion to fight. And that champion, Bhima, will be you."
The audacity of the plan was breathtaking. Three men, walking into the heart of the most powerful and dangerous empire on earth to challenge its tyrant to single combat. It was a mission that bordered on suicide.
Yudhishthira was aghast. "No, Krishna! I cannot allow it! The risk is too great! To send my two strongest brothers and you, our divine guide, into the lion's den… if you should fail, all is lost! I will abandon this ambition of the Rajasuya. My father's soul can wait. I will not risk the lives of my beloved brothers."
"This is no longer about your ambition, Yudhishthira," Krishna replied, his voice gentle but firm. "This is about Dharma. Eighty-six kings are languishing in a dungeon, awaiting a horrific death. A tyrant is about to commit an act of sacrilege that will poison the very soul of the earth. We cannot stand by and allow this to happen. To ignore this great evil would be a greater sin than any risk we might take. This is not an assassination plot; it is a mission of liberation. It is our sacred duty."
Arjuna stepped forward, his hand resting on the Gandiva. "Krishna is right, brother. We cannot hide in our paradise while such an evil exists in the world. This is our duty as Kshatriyas. We will not fail."
Bhima grinned, his eyes blazing with a fierce light. "Let me face him," he rumbled. "My mace is useless against his boons, but my bare hands are not. I will break the man who was joined by a demon. I will be the instrument of justice."
Seeing their unshakable resolve, Yudhishthira finally, reluctantly, consented. His heart was filled with a terrible dread, but he knew they were right. The path to becoming an Emperor of Dharma was not paved with peace offerings, but with the necessary destruction of great evil.
And so, the three heroes prepared for their secret quest. They shed their royal garments and donned the simple robes of wandering Brahmins. Krishna, the divine strategist and avatar of God; Arjuna, the peerless archer with his celestial bow shrunk down and concealed; and Bhima, a walking mountain of muscle, his mace left behind, his body his only weapon. They took their leave of Indraprastha under the cover of night, a secret trinity of heroes marching towards the dark heart of Magadha. They were three men against an empire, on a desperate mission to liberate the world from a tyrant and to clear the path for the dawn of a new age.