Once, as a consequence of the hardship he endured while hunting a deer, King Pandu was struck by a terrible calamity. From the very beginning, however, the sons of Pritha—known as the Pandavas—were raised in the ways of righteousness and discipline. With her mother’s consent and guided by the secret teachings of dharma, Kunti invoked the deities Dharma, Vayu, and Indra, desiring sons. Faithfully following these sacred instructions, Kunti, beloved of her husband Pandu, called upon Dharma, Vayu, and Indra, and by their blessings, she bore sons. Madri, too, through the power of invocation, summoned the twin Ashvins. Thus, all the sons of Pandu—born to Kunti and Madri through sacred mantras—were raised together, protected by their mothers, and grew up amidst ascetics. Their births took place in pure and holy forests, within the noble hermitages of the great sages. But, due to the power of a sage’s curse, Pandu died on the sacred mountain of Shatasringa while united with Madri. After his passing, the sages themselves brought the young Pandavas—ascetic in nature, handsome, with matted hair and vows of celibacy—to the sons of Dhritarashtra. “These are your sons, your brothers, your disciples, and your friends—the Pandavas,” the sages declared, and then disappeared from sight. When the Kauravas saw the Pandavas introduced by the revered sages, all the respected citizens and townsfolk rejoiced and shouted with delight. Some among them said, “These are his sons,” while others doubted, “They are not his,” or wondered, “How can these be his, since Pandu has long been dead?” Yet everywhere, voices welcomed them: “Welcome indeed! By good fortune, we see the lineage of Pandu!” As the initial clamor faded, a wondrous tumult arose from all directions, as if from unseen beings. There was a shower of flowers, auspicious fragrances filled the air, and the sounds of conches and drums resounded. The Pandavas’ arrival seemed nothing short of miraculous. Out of joy, all the citizens were filled with happiness; a mighty sound rose up, touching the heavens and spreading the Pandavas’ fame. The Pandavas resided there, honored and fearless, having mastered all the Vedas and various sciences. The people grew fond of Yudhishthira for his purity, of Bhimasena for his steadfastness, and of Arjuna for his valor. Through Kunti’s service to the elders, the humility of the twin brothers, and the heroism of all the sons, the entire world was satisfied. In time, at the great assembly of kings, Arjuna accomplished a most difficult feat—he won Krishna as his bride at her self-choice ceremony. From then on, in all the world, Arjuna was honored among all bowmen, his brilliance likened to the dazzling sun, difficult to gaze upon even in battle. Arjuna conquered kings and mighty hosts, and brought about the great Rajasuya sacrifice for his brother, King Yudhishthira. The Rajasuya was accomplished by Yudhishthira, with the wise counsel of Vasudeva and the strength of Bhima and Arjuna, through which Jarasandha and the proud king of Chedi were slain. When Duryodhana arrived and witnessed the many gifts—gems, gold, jewels, cows, elephants, horses, and vast wealth—he also beheld the fine garments, cloaks, coverings, woolen blankets, deer skins, precious rugs, and carpets. Gazing upon the Pandavas’ great prosperity, a deep envy took root in him, born of jealousy. The sight of the assembly hall, crafted by Maya and resembling a celestial palace, tormented him further. In his confusion, Duryodhana stumbled and was laughed at by all, right before Vasudeva and Bhima, as though he lacked noble birth. Though he enjoyed many pleasures and jewels, Dhritarashtra’s son became pale, thin, and emaciated, like a deer. Then, out of fondness for his son, Dhritarashtra approved the game of dice. Hearing of this, Vasudeva’s anger grew greatly. His mind was ill at ease, and he took no joy in the disputes; he overlooked the terrible injustices and wrongs that arose from the dice game. Rejecting the wise counsel of Vidura, Bhishma, Drona, Sharadvata, and Kripa, the kshatriyas burned with mutual enmity in that tumultuous conflict. When the sons of Pandu were victorious, and the great misfortune had occurred, Dhritarashtra, knowing the intentions of Duryodhana, Karna, and Shakuni, reflected deeply. After much thought, he spoke to Sanjaya: “Listen to all I say, Sanjaya, and do not take offense. You are learned, wise, and esteemed for your understanding. I have no desire for conflict, nor do I rejoice in the destruction of our family. I make no distinction between my sons and the sons of Pandu; yet my sons, given to anger, resent me, though I am old. Out of weakness and affection for my sons, I endure this, though I am blind; I am confused, and I share in the confusion of senseless Duryodhana. “At the Rajasuya, seeing the splendor and might of the Pandava and his ascent to the throne, my son was humiliated. Angered and unable to defeat the Pandavas in battle, though a Kshatriya, he lost heart and could not attain such prosperity. Together with the king of Gandhara, he devised the deceitful dice game. Whatever I know of what happened there, listen to it, Sanjaya. When you hear my words, spoken with reason and truth, then, O son of Suta, you will know me as one who sees with the eye of wisdom.