After Kurukshetra – Section 5: The Rule of Yudhishthira
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A King in Mourning
Though Yudhishthira had accepted the crown, the glitter of kingship brought him no joy. He often confessed to his brothers:
> "I am king only in name. In truth, it is grief that rules my heart. The throne I sit upon is carved from bones, the canopy above me is woven of widows' veils, and every jewel I wear is polished with tears. How, then, can I call myself happy?"
His brothers tried to lighten his heart with counsel. Bhima would say:
> "Brother, sorrow cannot rebuild kingdoms. Dharma is not only meditation and renunciation—it is also action. Rise from grief, and do your duty. The land looks to you."
Arjuna added:
> "We must not let our victory turn hollow. Yes, the war was cruel, but from its ashes let us shape a kingdom of justice. Let Hastinapura be a beacon, not a ruin."
Though Yudhishthira never truly cast off sorrow, he listened. Slowly, he began to turn his mourning into a resolve—to rule not for himself, but for the people.
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The Work of Reconstruction
The kingdom lay devastated after the war. Villages had been burned, crops destroyed, herds scattered, and the population reduced by millions. The survivors looked not for glory but for food, shelter, and peace.
Yudhishthira's first task was relief and rebuilding:
Fields were redistributed to farmers who had lost land.
Temples and wells were restored to encourage daily life.
Orphans were taken into royal care, and pensions given to widows.
Roads were repaired for trade, and messengers were sent across Bharatavarsha to assure distant rulers that peace had returned.
The treasury, though strained, was opened for the people. Unlike Duryodhana, who had hoarded wealth for war, Yudhishthira used it freely to heal the land.
Gradually, the marketplaces of Hastinapura stirred again with the sounds of barter, the rivers once more carried boats, and festivals returned to villages. Yet beneath the surface, the wound of Kurukshetra remained raw.
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The Dharma-Raja
Yudhishthira soon gained the title Dharma-Raja, the king of righteousness. His judgments were known for fairness, his generosity for boundlessness. People felt safe under his rule, for he was stern in justice yet soft in compassion.
He insisted on transparency in governance. If a merchant felt cheated, he could walk into the palace and speak. If a widow cried for help, her words reached the king's ear. Unlike kings who distanced themselves with pomp, Yudhishthira saw himself as a servant of Dharma.
It was said that in his reign:
Thieves disappeared, for justice was swift.
Hunger lessened, for granaries were opened in times of famine.
Even animals roamed freely, for hunters were restrained and cruelty punished.
The people began to say:
> "The Pandavas' rule is not the rule of conquest but of compassion. The scars of war remain, but Dharma protects us like a canopy."
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The Ashvamedha Yajna
In time, Yudhishthira sought to re-establish Hastinapura's supremacy across the land. For this, the ancient ritual of kingship—the Ashvamedha Yajna (horse sacrifice)—was performed.
A sacred horse, adorned with ornaments, was released to wander freely across Bharatavarsha. Wherever it roamed, the local kings had to accept Yudhishthira's sovereignty—or challenge it in battle.
Arjuna, Bhima, Nakula, and Sahadeva each led armies to protect the horse. Their campaigns took them across the subcontinent:
Arjuna subdued kingdoms to the west, including Gandhara and regions near the Sindhu.
Bhima marched east, where he defeated strong rulers and established friendly ties with others.
Nakula went north, negotiating with Himalayan chiefs.
Sahadeva went south, reaching the coastal lands, bringing both tribute and alliances.
Unlike Duryodhana's conquests, these campaigns were marked not by cruelty but by diplomacy where possible. Many kings submitted peacefully, recognizing the Pandavas' legitimacy.
When the horse returned, the grand sacrifice was performed with priests, sages, and nobles gathered. Yudhishthira, seated as the sacrificer, felt the weight of history. The yajna was not merely ritual—it was a statement that Hastinapura had risen again as the heart of Bharatavarsha.
Yet even amidst the chanting of priests and the pouring of offerings into fire, Yudhishthira's face remained solemn. For he remembered that his sons, Draupadi's children, and countless kin were gone. What use was supremacy, if the cost was such sorrow?
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The Brothers in Governance
The Pandavas divided duties among themselves:
Bhima, fierce yet loyal, became the enforcer of law. Criminals feared him, but the people trusted him. His presence alone was enough to keep order.
Arjuna guarded the borders and led the army. His reputation as the greatest archer of his time made neighboring kings hesitant to rebel. He was also patron to artists, musicians, and warriors alike, for his love of culture matched his valor.
Nakula oversaw the stables, trade, and animal husbandry. Horses, elephants, and cattle thrived under his care, strengthening both commerce and war resources.
Sahadeva, wise and patient, advised on agriculture and astrology. He ensured crops were planted with the right seasons, and his foresight helped avert famines.
Together, they supported Yudhishthira, who presided as the guiding light of Dharma.
Draupadi, too, played her role. Though grief for her slain sons never left her, she stood by her husbands as queen, ensuring that women in the kingdom received justice and respect.
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The Visits of Sages
During this time, many sages visited Hastinapura—Vyasa, Narada, and others—guiding the Pandavas in governance and spiritual life. Vyasa often reminded them:
> "The kingdom is not yours to enjoy, but to protect. Rule with detachment, for power is fleeting."
These reminders kept the Pandavas humble. Unlike many kings, they never fell into arrogance.
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The Growing Weariness
Though the kingdom prospered, the Pandavas grew weary of power. Years of war had drained their hearts. Yudhishthira performed his duties, but often longed for the peace of forests. Bhima and Arjuna, though still fiery, were no longer the eager warriors of youth. Nakula and Sahadeva, too, sought solace in spiritual life.
Even Draupadi, once vibrant, grew increasingly silent. She found little joy in the luxuries of the palace, for her sons were gone, and her heart remained tethered to their memory.
The Pandavas lived not as kings reveling in wealth, but as monks dressed in royal garments. Their reign was just, but their hearts were always elsewhere—seeking the higher truth beyond power.
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The Shadow of Gandhari's Curse
Always, in the background, lingered Gandhari's curse upon Krishna:
> "Just as the Kuru race has perished through your will, so too shall the Yadava race perish through yours."
The Pandavas knew that destiny had not finished its course. Though the kingdom stood strong, fate was moving silently toward its next chapter.
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The Prosperity of the Land
Despite their inner sorrow, under the Pandavas' reign the land flourished. Crops grew tall, rivers flowed clean, and trade routes thrived. Poets and scholars found patronage, temples echoed with hymns, and festivals revived the spirit of unity.
It was said that during their rule, people rarely lied, children seldom died young, and no great famine struck the land. Dharma truly stood tall, for a time.
But the Pandavas themselves remained restless, like exiles even on the throne. Their greatness lay not in their enjoyment of kingship, but in their refusal to let power corrupt them.
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