When King Drupada completed his heartfelt invocation, and the sanctified oblation was offered by the sage Yāja, a wondrous event unfolded before the assembled Pañcālas. From the sacrificial fire itself, a boy emerged—radiant as a god, his form blazing like a living flame. Terrifying to behold and crowned with a shining diadem, he wore resplendent armor and held sword and arrows in his hands, his bow resounding repeatedly with a fierce twang. Without delay, he mounted a magnificent chariot and sped away, while the Pañcālas, overwhelmed with astonishment and joy, burst into cheers, exclaiming, “Well done! Well done!” Such immense delight seized the people that it seemed the earth itself could scarcely bear their joy. The prince’s very presence dispelled all fear and brought glory to the house of Pañcāla. At that moment, a celestial voice, wondrous and unseen, rang out: “This one is born to remove the king’s sorrow and to slay Droṇa.” As the echoes of this prophecy faded, yet another marvel occurred. From the midst of the altar arose a maiden—Pāñcālī—her beauty incomparable, her limbs graceful, her eyes dark and wide, and her hips broad. Her complexion was of dusky hue, her eyes like lotus petals, her hair curling and dark as the blue lotus, her nails coppery and prominent, her brows lovely, and her breasts full and charming. Though she assumed a human form, she shone with a divine radiance, and the fragrance of blue lotuses emanated from her, spreading far and wide. Her beauty surpassed all on earth, so much so that gods, Dānavas, and Yakṣas alike desired her; she seemed a goddess incarnate. Delighted, the king’s counselors and loyal followers exclaimed, “She is a fitting match for Arjuna, son of Pāṇḍu!” As the maiden, lovely-hipped and fair, stood revealed, a bodiless voice declared, “Kṛṣṇā, the best of all women, will bring destruction upon the Kṣatriyas. At the right time, this fair-waisted lady will accomplish the work of the gods; because of her, great fear will arise among the Kauravas.” Hearing this, the Pañcālas roared their approval like a pride of lions, their joy so great that the earth trembled beneath them. King Drupada, seeing her, was moved to tears of happiness. He embraced Kṛṣṇā, called her “Pāṇḍu’s daughter-in-law,” and, lifting Pāñcālī onto his lap, was overcome with bliss. Witnessing the birth of these two, Prishata’s daughter, yearning for sons, approached Yāja and pleaded, “Let these two know no other mother but me.” Yāja, wishing to please the king, replied, “So be it.” Thereupon, the Brahmins, their hearts fulfilled, bestowed names upon the children. The prince, born of boldness, wrath, and the sacrificial rite, was named Dhrishtadyumna, while the dark-complexioned maiden was named Kṛṣṇā, for her hue. Thus were Dhrishtadyumna and Kṛṣṇā born to Drupada in that great sacrifice. Dhrishtadyumna soon attained the highest mastery in Vedic study. The venerable sage Bharadvāja took the Panchala prince to his own abode and instructed him in the science of weapons. Wise Droṇa, knowing that destiny cannot be averted and wishing to preserve his own fame, did not withhold his knowledge from the youth. Meanwhile, word reached the Brahmins of firm vows about a dreadful event at Vāraṇāvata—the house of lac. They spoke to King Drupada of the Pañcālas, relating how the sons of Dhṛtarāṣṭra, with their ministers, had conspired to destroy the Pāṇḍavas. Purochana, sent by Duryodhana, had constructed a great house of lac at Vāraṇāvata and, at midnight, set it ablaze while the unsuspecting Pāṇḍavas and Kuntī slept within. By that very fire, the wicked Purochana himself perished. When news of the conflagration reached Dhṛtarāṣṭra and his kin, they rejoiced greatly, feeling little grief. Dhṛtarāṣṭra ordered Vidura to perform the funeral rites for the Pāṇḍavas, feigning sorrow and lamenting their fate, while the funeral offerings were made. Bhīṣma informed Vidura, who carried out the last rites, for the evil plot had been fulfilled. None could say who had accomplished this deed, nor was it seen or heard of before. Thus was the fate of the Pāṇḍavas reported to Drupada. Hearing these words, King Yajnasena was stricken with grief, mourning as a father for his own sons. Deeply pained, he gathered his ministers and all the citizens, and out of compassion, spoke to them: “Day and night I am tormented by thoughts of Arjuna, my kinsman, who, with his brothers and mother, perished in the fire. What wonder is there in this world? For time is insurmountable. Now that my promise has become false before all, what am I to do?” Consumed by sorrow, he sought out Yāja and Upayāja, those faultless sages. He reminded them that he had asked for a son who would slay Bharadvāja’s killer and Arjuna’s enemy, and that the goddess herself had been invoked for this purpose. The world knew this, and so had he heard from Yāja. Desiring a son, he had performed the sacrifice with Yāja, and from it, Dhrishtadyumna and Kṛṣṇā were born, bringing him satisfaction. Yet now, with the Pāṇḍavas and Pṛthā lost, what could he do? Seeing their king so deeply afflicted, the wise and virtuous priest, learned in all knowledge, approached and prepared to offer counsel and comfort.