To those assembled seekers, the blessed one of mighty bow granted the boon they desired, as was proper. He bestowed upon them the woman cherished in all the worlds, assigning her as their wife—a mark of fortune among humankind. Then, together with them, that divine being went to Narayana, who is immeasurable—eternal, unmanifest, unborn, ancient, everlasting, the very universe itself, infinite in form. Among these two, one was white and the other black. The one called Kesha is said to be of black complexion. Those who once took on the forms of Indra, bound in the hollow of the northern mountain, are now these valorous Pandavas. Among them, Savyasachi is particularly a portion of Indra. Thus, O King, these Pandavas were formerly Indras, and to them was previously assigned this fortune: their wife, Draupadi, of divine form. For how else, except by divine arrangement, could a woman arise from the earth by her own deeds—she whose beauty shines like the moon and sun, and whose very body exudes fragrance? Now, O King, with affection, I grant you another wondrous boon: behold the sons of Kunti with divine sight, and see them as they were, endowed with the merits and divine bodies of their previous births. Then Vyasa, pure and of supremely noble deeds, by his austerity, bestowed divine sight upon the king. With this vision, the king beheld them as they were in their former divine forms. He saw them adorned with golden crowns, shining with the radiance of Indra, fire, and the sun. Their crested hair gleamed; their forms were beautiful, youthful, broad-chested, and tall as palm trees. Clad in divine garments and adorned with pure, fragrant garlands, they shone greatly—like the three-eyed ones, or the Vasus, or the Rudras, or the Adityas—endowed with every virtue. Seeing these former Indras, handsome and resplendent, and hearing that Savyasachi was in the form of Indra, King Drupada was filled with delight and wonder at that immeasurable divine sight. Beholding also Draupadi, the foremost among women, radiant as the very light of Soma and Agni, and worthy of such men by her form, splendor, and fame, the king of kings rejoiced, considering her truly their wife. Overwhelmed by the marvelous vision, he grasped the feet of Satyavati’s son, and with a tranquil mind, said, “O supreme sage, nothing is surprising for you.” Vyasa then spoke: “Now, O ruler of the earth, hear this ancient account as it is remembered by royal sages, regarding the marriage customs of old. There was once a royal sage named Nitantu, famed upon the earth. He had five sons, mighty archers all: Sālveya, Śūrasena, the valiant Śrutasena, Tindusāra, and Atisāra—Kshatriyas, performers of sacrifice. These brothers did not surpass one another, always speaking kindly, free from envy, knowers of righteousness, gentle, and doers of what is dear to each other. At the svayaṃvara, the daughter of Śibi, named Bhaumāśvī, chose these five sons of Nitantu as her husbands—heroes, lords of men, and rulers of earth. Like a vīṇā attuned to the Gandharva mode, Bhaumāśvī became the foremost among women, for whom those five princes, bulls among Kshatriyas, became husbands. She, the noble daughter of Uśīnara, became the single wife of those five kings, endowed with remarkable form and virtues. From these five, she bore five sons, O king; thus, she gave heirs to the Nitantu princes. Their five sons each bore a separate name on earth: the Sālveyas, Śūrasenas, Śrutasenas, Tindusāras, and Atisāras—these are their lineages. Thus Bhaumāśvī, renowned on earth, became the wife of five. In the same way, O Drupada, your daughter Krishna, faultless and divine in form, is appointed wife to five. There was once, in a hermitage, a maiden, daughter of a great sage. Though beautiful and virtuous, she did not obtain a husband. She pleased Shankara with severe austerity, and the Lord, pleased, said to her, ‘Choose a boon as you desire.’ The maiden, speaking repeatedly to the boon-giving Lord, said, ‘I wish for a husband endowed with all virtues.’ The Lord of gods, well-pleased, granted her that boon: ‘O blessed one, you shall have five husbands.’ She, seeking to please the god, again said, ‘O Shankara, grant me a single husband endowed with virtues, for I am worthy.’ To her, the god of gods, pleased in his heart, replied: ‘You have asked me five times, again and again, for a husband. So it shall be, O blessed one; when you take another birth, all this will come to pass for you.’ Indeed, she was born as Drupada’s daughter, Krishna, faultless and divine in form, destined to be wife to five. She, having once been Nalayani, unmatched in beauty, took Mudgala as her husband, desiring a boon from Shiva. This divine secret, O best of kings, is a mystery of the gods and must not be revealed to anyone. For the sake of the Pandavas, the splendor of heaven arose at the great sacrifice; after severe austerity, she became your daughter. This radiant goddess, cherished by the gods, by her own deed has become the single wife of five; created by the Self-born as the wife of the gods. Having heard this, O king, act as Drupada says. King Drupada then replied, “Without having heard these words from you, O great sage, I had previously tried to arrange matters otherwise. But what has been ordained cannot be undone—thus, this arrangement has come to pass. The decree of destiny cannot be reversed; what is ordained by one’s own actions must come to be. Here, no single cause alone is at work—thus, this arrangement has arisen.