Years went past, and a day came when Yudhishthira and his brethren and their wife Draupadi journeyed to the dwelling-place of their elders. They found them all there save Vidura, who had departed to a sacred place on the banks of the Ganges to undergo penance and wait for the coming of Yama, god of the dead. Then all the kinsfolk, young and old, went forth to find Vidura; but when they came to him he was wasted with hunger and great age, nor could he speak unto them. They waited beside him until he died, and then they mourned together. This new sorrow awakened old-time grief, and they spoke of all those who had fallen in the great war. Fathers and mothers lamented for their sons, and wives for their husbands.

While they wept and moaned together, the great sage Vyasa came near and spoke, saying: “I will soothe all your sorrows. Let each one bathe at sunset in the holy waters of the Ganges, and when night falls your lost ones will return to you once again.”

Then they all sat waiting on the river bank until evening came on. Slowly passed the day; it seemed to be as long as a year.

At length the sun went down, and they chanted mantras and went into the Ganges. Vyasa bathed beside the old Maharajah Dhritarashtra and Yudhishthira. Then all came out and stood on the bank.

Suddenly the waters began to heave and foam, and Vyasa muttered holy words and called out the names of the dead one by one. Soon all the heroes who had been slain arose one by one. In chariots they came, and on horseback and riding upon lordly elephants. They all uttered triumphant cries; drums were sounded and trumpets were blown; and it seemed as if the armies of the Pandavas and Kauravas were once again assembled for battle, for they swept over the river like a mighty tempest.

Many of the onlookers trembled with fear, until they beheld Bhishma and Drona, clad in armour, standing aloft in their chariots in splendour and in pride. Then came Arjuna's son, the noble Abhimanyu, and Bhima's Asura son. Soon Gandhari beheld Duryodhana and all his brethren, while Pritha looked with glad eyes upon Karna, and Draupadi welcomed her brother Dhrishta-dyumna and her five children who had all been slain by vengeful Aswatthaman. All the warriors who had fallen in battle returned again on that night of wonder.

With the host came minstrels who sang of the deeds of the heroes, and beautiful girls who danced before them. All strife had ended between kinsmen and old-time rivals. In death there was peace and sweet companionship.

The ghostly warriors crossed the Ganges and were welcomed by those who waited on the bank around Vyasa. It was a night of supreme and heart-stirring gladness. Fathers and mothers found their sons, widows clung to their husbands, sisters embraced their brothers, and all wept tears of joy. The elders who were living conversed with those who were dead. The burdens of grief and despair fell from all hearts after lone years of mourning and the past was suddenly forgotten in the rapture of beholding those who had died.

Swiftly passed the night as if it had endured but for an hour. Then when dawn began to break, the dead men returned to their chariots and their horses and their elephants and bade farewells.

Vyasa spoke to the widows and said that those of them who desired to be with their husbands could depart with them. Then the Kaurava princesses and other high-born ladies, who never ceased to mourn for their own, kissed the feet of the Maharajah Dhritarashtra and Queen Gandhari and plunged into the Ganges with the departing hosts. Vyasa chanted mantras, and all the drowned widows were transported to heaven with their husbands.

The Pandavas returned to Hastinapur, and when two years had gone past a new sorrow fell upon them. One day Narada, the sage, stood before Yudhishthira and told that a great fire had swept through the jungle, and that Dhritarashtra, and Gandhari, and Pritha, and all who were with them, had perished.

Soon afterwards the Pandavas came to know, by reason of dread omens which appeared, that a great calamity was drawing near, but no man could tell what it was or when it would take place.

Before long it became known that the city of Dwaraka was doomed to be destroyed. A horror in human shape was beheld in the night. It was coloured yellow and black, its head was bald and its limbs misshapen, and men said it was Yama, god of the dead. Visions of headless men contending in battle were beheld at sunset. The moon was eclipsed, a dread tempest ravaged the land, and a plague of rats afflicted the city.

Krishna forbade all the people, on pain of death, to drink wine, and commanded them to perform devotions on the seashore.

Then the night was haunted by a black woman with yellow teeth who grinned horribly at house doors. All the inhabitants of the city were stricken with terror. Evil spirits came also and robbed the jewels of the women and the weapons of the men. At length the chakra of Krishna went up to heaven, and his chariot and horses followed it. The end of the Yádavas was not afar off, and the day came when Apsaras called out of heaven: “Depart from hence,” and all the people heard them.

When the people gathered on the seashore they held a feast, and being allowed to drink wine for one day, they drank heavily and began to quarrel. At length Satyaki slew Kritavarman, who had gone to the Pandava camp with Drona's son on the night of slaughter. Then Kritavarman's friends killed Satyaki and one of Krishna's sons. Krishna slew the rebels, but he could not quell the tumult and in the fighting which ensued fathers slew their sons, and sons their fathers, and kinsmen contended fiercely against kinsmen.

Then Krishna and Balarama left the city, and both died in the jungle. From Balarama's mouth issued a mighty snake, for he was the incarnation of the world serpent. Krishna was mistaken for a gazelle by a hunter, who shot an arrow which pierced his foot at the only spot where he could be mortally wounded. He then departed to his heaven, which is called Goloka.

Before Krishna had left Dwaraka he caused messengers to hasten for Arjuna, who came speedily, to find the women wailing for the dead. Then Vasudeva, father of Krishna, died, and Arjuna laid the body of the old man upon the pyre, and he was burned with four of his widows, who no longer desired to live. The bodies of Krishna and Balarama were cremated also.

Arjuna then set forth towards Indra-prastha with a remnant of the people and when they had left Dwaraka, the sea rose up and swallowed the whole city, with those who had refused to depart from it. Such was the end of the power of the Yadavas.

Deep gloom fell upon the Pandavas after this, and Vyasa, the sage, appeared before them, and revealed that their time had come to depart from the world.

Then Yudhishthira divided the kingdom. He made Parikshit, son of Abhimanyu, Rajah of Hastinapur and Yuyutsu, the half-brother of Duryodhana, who had joined the Pandava army on the first day of the great war, was made Rajah of Hastinapur. He counselled them to live at peace one with another.

The Pandavas afterwards cast off their royal garments and their jewels and put on the garb of hermits, and the bright-eyed and faithful Draupadi did likewise. Yudhishthira departed first of all, and his brethren walked behind him one by one, and Draupadi went last of all, followed by a hound. They all walked towards the rising sun, and by the long circuitous path which leads to Mount Meru, through forests and over streams and across the burning plains, never again to return.

One by one they fell by the way, all save Yudhishthira. Draupadi was the first to sink down, and Bhima cried: “Why has she fallen who has never done wrong?”

Said Yudhishthira: “Her heart was bound up in Arjuna, and she has her reward.”

Sahadeva was next to fall, and then Nakula. At length Yudhishthira heard the voice of Bhima crying in distress: “Lo! Now the noble Arjuna has fallen. What sin has he committed?”

Said Yudhishthira: “He boasted confidently that he could destroy all his enemies in one day, and because he failed in his vow he has fallen by the way.”

The two surviving brothers walked on in silence but the time came when mighty Bhima sank down. He cried: “O Yudhishthira say, if you can tell, why I have fallen now.”

Said Yudhishthira: “O wolf-bellied one, because of your cursing and gluttony and your pride you have fallen by the way.”

Yudhishthira walked on, calm and unmoved, followed by his faithful hound. When he drew near to sacred Mount Meru, the world-spine, Indra, king of the gods, came forth to welcome him, saying: “Ascend, O resolute prince.”

Said Yudhishthira: “Let my brethren who have fallen by the way come with me also. I cannot enter heaven without them, O king of the gods. Let the fair and gentle princess come too. Draupadi has been a faithful wife, and is worthy of bliss. Hear my prayer, O Indra, and have mercy.”

Said Indra: “Your brethren and Draupadi have gone before you.”

Then Yudhishthira pleaded that his faithful hound should enter heaven also; but Indra said: “Heaven is no place for those who are followed by hounds. Do you not know that demons rob religious ordinances of their virtues when dogs are near?”

Said Yudhishthira: “No evil can come from the noble. I cannot have joy if I desert this faithful friend.”

Indra said: “You did leave behind your brethren and Draupadi. Why, therefore, can you not abandon your hound?”

Said Yudhishthira: “I have no power to bring back to life those who have fallen by the way: there can be no abandonment of the dead.”

As he spoke, the hound was transformed, and behold Dharma, god of justice, stood by the rajah's side.

Dharma said: “O Yudhishthira, you are indeed mine own son. You would not abandon me, your hound, because that I was faithful unto you. Your equal cannot be found in heaven.”

Then Yudhishthira was transported to the city of eternal bliss, and there he beheld Duryodhana seated upon a throne. All the Kauravas were in heaven also, but the rajah could not find his brethren or fair Draupadi.

Said Indra: “Here you shall dwell, O Yudhishthira, in eternal bliss. Forget all earthly ties and attain to perfection; your brethren have fallen short, therefore they sank by the way.”

Yudhishthira said: “I cannot remain here with the Kauravas who have done me great wrong. Where my brethren are, there would I be also with our wife Draupadi.”

Then a celestial being conducted Yudhishthira to the abode of his brethren and the Princess of Panchala. He entered the forest of the nether regions, where the leaves were like to sharp weapons and the path was covered with knives. Darkness hung heavily, and the way was miry with blood and strewn with foul and mutilated corpses. Shapes of horror flitted round about like to shadows, fierce birds of prey feasted upon human flesh. The damned were burning in everlasting fires, and the air reeked with foul odours. A boiling river went past, and Yudhishthira saw the place of torture with thorns, and the desert of fiery sand. He gazed mutely upon each horror that was unfolded before his eyes.

Gladly would Yudhishthira have turned back, but he heard in the darkness the voices of his brethren and Draupadi bidding him to stay a little while to comfort them while they suffered torment.

Then Yudhishthira said to the celestial being: “Depart now from me, for I must remain here to assuage the sufferings of my brethren and Draupadi.”

As he spoke the gods appeared, and the scene of horror vanished from before the eyes of Yudhishthira, for it was an illusion conjured up to test his constancy.

Then Yudhishthira was led to the heavenly Ganges, and having bathed in its sacred waters, he cast off his mortal body and became a celestial. Then, rejoicing, he entered Swarga, the celestial city of Indra, and was welcomed by Krishna in all his divine glory, and by his brethren and by Draupadi, and all whom he had loved upon earth.

Indra spoke and said: “This is the beautiful and immortal one, who sprang from the altar to be your wife, and these bright beings are her five children. Here is Dhritarashtra, who is now the king of the Gandharvas; there is Karna, son of Surya, the peerless archer who was slain by Arjuna. Here comes towards you Abhimanyu, son of Arjuna; he is now the star-bright companion of the lord of night. Here are Pandu, your sire, and Pritha, your mother, now united in heaven. Behold! also, Yudhishthira, the wise Bhishma, whose place is with the Vasus round my throne: Drona sits with Dharma, god of wisdom. Here are all the peerless warriors who fell in battle and have won heaven by their valour and their constancy. So may all mortals rise to eternal bliss, casting off their mortal bodies and entering by the shining door of the celestial city, by doing kindly deeds, by uttering gentle words, and by enduring all suffering with patience. The holy life is prepared for all the sons of men.”

Thus ends sublimely the story of the Great War of the Bharatas.

This story was first written by Donald Alexander Mackenzie. It has been adapted for Readomania by our editorial team.