With quiet mastery, the Brahmin pierced the iron ring with his arrow and, summoning it upward, skillfully drew it out from the depths of the well, the ring now encircling the arrow’s shaft. Unshaken by his own feat, he handed the retrieved ring to the astonished princes, who, upon seeing this marvel, bowed to him in respect. “We bow to you, O Brahmin,” they said, “for such skill is not found in others. Who are you? Whose son are you? Tell us, what should we do for you?” Thus addressed, Drona replied, “Describe me to Bhishma—tell him of my appearance and my qualities.” The princes agreed, saying, “So be it,” and went at once to Bhishma, recounting all that the Brahmin had said and the wondrous deed they had witnessed. Hearing their words, Bhishma recognized at once that this was Drona. “He is indeed fit to be a teacher,” Bhishma thought, and brought Drona there himself, honoring him with great respect. Bhishma, foremost among warriors, questioned Drona with skill and care. In response, Drona shared all the reasons for his coming: “O faultless one, I once sought out the sage Agniveshya to learn the science of weapons, desiring to master archery. As a celibate, self-controlled, and matted-haired student, I stayed there for many years, devoted to serving my teacher. There, too, was Yajñasena, the mighty prince of Pāñcāla, who had come to learn archery. He was my friend, helpful and dear to me; with him I spent a long time, O lord, in close association. From childhood, O Kauravya, we studied together. He was always my friend, speaking kindly and doing what was pleasing. Bhishma, you spoke words to me that increased my happiness: ‘I am the most beloved son of my father, the great-souled Drona. When that Pāñcālya anoints me in the kingdom, at that time, by truth I swear, half the kingdom shall be yours to enjoy. My pleasures, my wealth, and my comforts shall all be under your control.’ Having said this, he departed, accomplished in arms and honored by me. I always kept those words in mind, but by my father’s command, out of desire for a son, I took an unworthy step. I married Śāradvatī, a woman of great wisdom and firm vows, ever devoted to fire-offerings, sacrifices, and self-restraint. From Gautamī I obtained a son, Aśvatthāman, my own child, whose deeds were as mighty as Bhīma’s and whose brilliance equaled the sun. I, Bharadvāja, was pleased with that son as with myself. But when I saw the wealthy men’s sons drink cow’s milk, and Aśvatthāman, as a child, cried for the same, it troubled me deeply. A twice-born should not fall into distress while engaged in his duties—thinking thus, I wandered much in that region, seeking pure gifts, righteous and free from fault, but could not find a giver of milk. With water mixed with flour I tried to comfort the boy; after drinking it, the child thought he too had drunk milk. Then, delighted and deceived by childhood, he danced joyfully among the other boys. Seeing him thus, I felt both shame and sorrow. ‘Fie on Drona, who, though alive, cannot obtain wealth! Whose son, longing for milk, dances joyfully after drinking flour-water, thinking, “I too have drunk milk”?’ Hearing these words spoken among them, my mind was shaken; blaming myself, I thought thus in my heart. Moreover, I, once shunned and reproached by the Brahmins, should not, out of greed for wealth, perform the sinful service of others. Thinking thus, I took my beloved son and, out of former affection and attachment, went with my wife to Saumaki. Hearing that my old friend had been anointed king, I thought, ‘My purpose is fulfilled,’ and, very pleased, I approached my dear friend who now held the kingdom. Remembering our meeting and his words, I went to Drupada, O lord, as a friend from before. I said, ‘O best of men, know me to be your friend,’ and I approached Drupada, united with him as with a friend. But he laughed at me, as if I were a stranger, and said, ‘Your understanding, O Brahmin, is not at all appropriate. When you said to me, “I am your friend,” know that relationships here decay with time as people grow old. Once, our friendship was bound by ability; a non-learned man is not the friend of a learned one, nor is a charioteerless man the friend of a charioteer. Friendship arises from equality; it does not occur from inequality. In this world, there is never any friendship that is ageless for anyone. Desire enjoys it, and anger abandons it. Do not cling to this worn-out friendship, which was made by you for your own purpose. O best of twice-born, our friendship was once based on need. The poor is not the friend of the rich, nor the unlearned of the learned. A coward is not the friend of a hero, nor is friendship formerly accepted by such. Never do kings of great power have such men as friends. Friendship arises with the dull, the deprived of fortune, and those who have lost wealth. A non-learned man is not the friend of a learned one, nor is a charioteerless man the friend of a charioteer.