As the assembly watched with anticipation, murmurs spread among those present. Some remarked in awe, “He is young and radiant, with arms and shoulders like the king of serpents, steadfast as the Himalaya in courage.” Others observed his lion-like gait and splendid presence, noting the valor of a maddened elephant within him. His enthusiasm made the daunting task seem possible. They spoke of his great strength and zeal, reasoning that no one without power would approach such a challenge alone. Indeed, there was no task in the world that could not be accomplished. Among men, Brahmanas were known for their extraordinary attainments; some lived only on water, air, or fruits, unwavering in their vows. Even those Brahmanas who appeared weak were powerful through their inner energy, and none should ever be despised—regardless of their actions. The assembly recalled how pleasure or pain, great or small, made no difference to the mighty; even the Kshatriyas had been defeated in battle by Rama, son of Jamadagni. Agastya, through Brahmanical power, had drunk up the unfathomable ocean. Thus, all agreed: this youth was great, and so was the bow before him. “Let him string it quickly,” urged the foremost of the twice-born. Arjuna, unmoving like a mountain, stood near the bow. Then, the best of the Pandavas spoke to Drupada’s son, Dhrishtadyumna. Hearing Arjuna’s words, Dhrishtadyumna replied, “Whether he is a Brahmana, Kshatriya, Vaishya, or even a Shudra—whoever among them strings this excellent bow, O best of the twice-born, to him shall my sister be given; this is my truthful word.” With great energy and radiance, the mighty and unconquerable Pandava circumambulated the bow, performing a clockwise circuit. He bowed his head to the god in the form of a fish, the bestower of boons and lord, and fixed Krishna in his mind. Then Arjuna took up the bow. This was the bow that kings with golden standards and curved shafts—Karna, Duryodhana, Shalya, and the Salva prince—along with lion-like masters of archery, had failed to string despite their great efforts. Yet Arjuna, proud among the valiant, possessing the power and splendor of Indra, strung it in a moment and took up five arrows. He struck the target, and it fell swiftly to the ground, pierced through the opening. A sound arose in the sky, and a great uproar filled the assembly. The gods showered divine flowers upon Partha, the slayer of his enemies. Thousands of Brahmanas waved their garments, astonished and crying out in wonder, as flowers fell everywhere from the heavens. Musicians played hundreds of instruments, and groups of bards and panegyrists praised him with sweet voices. Seeing Arjuna, Drupada, the destroyer of foes, was pleased and, along with his armies, wished to assist Partha. As the great sound swelled, Yudhishthira, foremost among the righteous, quickly returned to his quarters with the two exalted sons of Yama. Having witnessed the target struck and Partha’s resemblance to Indra, Krishna, though outwardly composed, seemed newly blossoming; though not smiling, she appeared to smile like a maiden. Though not intoxicated, she seemed unsteady with emotion; though silent, she spoke with her glance. Taking the white garland of choice, she approached the son of Kunti, smiling gently. Without hesitation, Krishna placed the garland upon Partha’s chest in the midst of the assembled kings, choosing him as her husband among the Brahmanas. Just as Shachi chose Indra, Svaha chose Agni, Lakshmi chose Mukunda, Usha chose Surya, Rati chose Madana, and the mountain-daughter chose Maheshvara, so did she choose Arjuna. Having won her in the arena and honored by the Brahmanas, Arjuna, whose deeds are beyond comprehension, departed from the assembly, accompanied by his new wife. But when the king was about to give his daughter to the Brahmana, anger arose among the assembled kings. They looked at one another, and gathering together, spoke for their mutual welfare: “We were all summoned here by Drupada, that wicked-minded one, to witness the svayamvara. He disregards us, who have assembled here, and wishes to give Draupadi, the best of women, to a Brahmana.” Just as a tree is felled when its fruit has ripened, they declared, “Let us strike down this wicked man who does not regard us. He does not deserve honor, nor the respect due to age or virtue. Let us kill this evil-doer, enemy of kings, together with his son. After inviting all the kings, honoring and feeding the worthy, he now disregards us. In this assembly of kings, like a gathering of gods, has he not seen any king here who is his equal?” They argued that among Brahmins, there was no right regarding the choice; the svayamvara was renowned in tradition as belonging to Kshatriyas. “Or, if this maiden does not desire any of us, let us, O kings, surround her with fire and return to our kingdoms.” Yet, they conceded, “If a Brahmin, out of recklessness or greed, has done this act displeasing to the lords of the earth, he is by no means to be slain. For our kingdom, our lives, our wealth, our sons and grandsons, and whatever riches we possess, are all for the sake of Brahmins. And out of fear of disgrace and for the protection of our own duty, let not such an outcome befall the svayamvaras of others.” Having spoken thus, the tiger-like kings, enraged and armed with clubs, rushed upon Drupada, intent on killing him.