The return of the three heroes to Indraprastha was like the breaking of a new dawn. When the citizens saw Krishna, Arjuna, and Bhima ride through the gates, not as disguised Brahmins but as triumphant warriors, a wave of joyous relief washed over the city. The news of their impossible victory—the slaying of the tyrant Jarasandha and the liberation of the eighty-six captive kings—spread like a divine fire, igniting the hearts of the people with pride and wonder.
In the Maya Sabha, Yudhishthira embraced his brothers, tears of relief streaming down his face. The terrible weight of fear that had settled on his heart during their absence was lifted. His family was whole, his city was safe, and the greatest obstacle to his imperial ambition had been removed from the world. The eighty-seven kings, their lives and kingdoms restored to them, had all sworn fealty, their combined might now a formidable shield for Indraprastha.
With the shadow of Magadha lifted, the path to the Rajasuya Yajna was clear. Yudhishthira, his heart now filled with a quiet but firm resolve, formally announced his intention to the court. The great sacrifice would be performed. It would be a declaration to the world that a new order had arrived, an empire built not on fear, but on the unshakeable foundation of Dharma.
Krishna, his purpose in Magadha fulfilled, now took on the role of the master strategist. "O King Yudhishthira," he addressed the court, his voice resonating with divine authority. "You have slain the greatest tyrant of our age. You have earned the allegiance of many kings through an act of liberation. But the Rajasuya requires more than just the removal of an obstacle. It requires the active consent of the entire world. A Chakravartin Samrat does not simply declare himself; he must be acknowledged by all. Before the sacred fires can be lit, you must prove your dominion."
He outlined the next great phase of their quest: the Digvijaya Yatra, the Campaign of World Conquest. "This is not a war of annihilation," Krishna explained, his eyes sweeping over the five brothers. "It is a campaign to unify the world under a single banner of Dharma. Your brothers must now journey to the four corners of the earth. They will carry your standard and your message. They will go to every kingdom and offer every king a choice: accept the righteous sovereignty of Emperor Yudhishthira and offer tribute as a sign of allegiance, or face the might of the Pandavas in battle. Those who submit with honour will be treated as friends and allies. Those who are defeated in battle will have their lives and kingdoms spared, but they too will be bound by oath to attend the sacrifice as your vassals. Every king must choose."
The plan was audacious, a formal challenge to the entire world. The four younger Pandavas, their hearts swelling with pride and purpose, accepted the charge without hesitation. The world would be divided among them, each brother's unique skills assigned to the direction that best suited them.
Arjuna, the peerless archer, the wielder of the Gandiva, was given the most challenging direction: the North. The northern lands were a wild and rugged territory of fierce mountain tribes, powerful warrior kingdoms, and mystical realms guarded by celestial beings. It was a land that required not just strength, but a skill so profound it bordered on the divine.
Bhima, the embodiment of raw, untamed power, was assigned the East. The eastern kingdoms were known for their powerful armies, their war elephants, and their proud, stubborn kings. This was a direction that required not subtlety, but an overwhelming force of nature that could shatter all resistance.
Sahadeva, the youngest and wisest of the brothers, whose knowledge of statecraft and strategy was second only to Krishna's, was given the South. The southern empires were ancient, wealthy, and culturally sophisticated. They could not be conquered by brute force alone. This campaign required a sharp intellect, a mastery of diplomacy, and the ability to win respect through wisdom.
Nakula, the handsome and charming swordsman, renowned for his speed and his way with horses, was dispatched to the West. The western lands were a network of powerful, trade-rich kingdoms, famous for their swift cavalry and independent spirit. This was a campaign for a warrior who could combine charm with lightning-fast action.
With the blessings of their mother, their wife, and their king, the four brothers set out from Indraprastha, four streams of power flowing out to the four corners of the world.
Arjuna's journey north was an epic in itself. He battled his way through the mountainous kingdoms of the Kulindas and the Anartas. He faced the fierce, warlike tribes of the Sakas and the Pahlavas, warriors who fought with a savagery he had never before encountered. In the high passes of the Himalayas, he did not just fight men; he fought nature itself, leading his army through treacherous, snow-bound terrain. He reached the fabled city of Pragjyotisha, ruled by the powerful King Bhagadatta, and after a fierce battle that lasted for eight days, the proud king finally acknowledged Arjuna's supremacy. He continued north, into the mystical realms that bordered the heavens, defeating the Gandharvas, the celestial musicians who guarded the passes, and even earning the respect of the divine guardians of Mount Kailash. He returned not just with chests of gold, but with tributes of rare celestial herbs, divine horses, and the sworn allegiance of kings who had never before bowed to a mortal ruler.
Bhima's campaign in the east was a thunderous storm of conquest. He first marched on Panchala, not as a conqueror, but as a son-in-law, where King Drupada joyfully offered his entire treasury as tribute. From there, he rolled eastward like a tidal wave. He crushed the kingdom of the Chedis, whose king, Shishupala, was a powerful rival and a cousin to Krishna. Shishupala, though filled with pride, recognized the futility of resisting Bhima's might and grudgingly submitted. Bhima then marched on, his reputation preceding him. Kings, hearing of the approach of the man who had torn Jarasandha in two, would often send their tribute carts out to meet him on the road, wisely choosing submission over annihilation. Those few who dared to resist were met with a fury that was absolute. Bhima's mace fell upon their armies like a thunderbolt, and their resistance crumbled in a single, decisive battle. He returned to Indraprastha with a train of seven thousand war elephants and a river of gold so vast it took weeks to tally.
Sahadeva's conquest of the south was a masterclass in strategy. He did not lead with the sword, but with the mind. He sent envoys ahead of his army, carrying messages of peace and proposals of alliance. He defeated the powerful King Bhishmaka of Vidarbha, the father of Krishna's wife Rukmini, not by destroying his army, but by outmaneuvering him on the field and then offering him an honorable peace. He journeyed deep into the Dravidian south, to the ancient and powerful kingdoms of the Pandyas, the Cholas, and the Cheras. He showed them not the arrogance of a northern conqueror, but a deep respect for their ancient traditions and wisdom. He debated their scholars, honored their gods, and proved that Yudhishthira's empire was one of mutual respect. He won their allegiance not through fear, but through admiration. He returned with ships laden with the legendary pearls of the southern seas, fragrant sandalwood, and priceless gems, his conquest a testament to the power of intellect over brute force.
Nakula's journey west was a whirlwind of charm and steel. He used his legendary good looks and charismatic personality to win over many of the western kings without a single drop of blood being shed. But when diplomacy failed, his speed was his greatest weapon. He led his cavalry in lightning raids that stunned his opponents, his army appearing as if from nowhere, striking hard and fast before the enemy could even mount a proper defense. He conquered the desert tribes, masters of the camel, and the powerful kingdoms of the coast, securing the trade routes and bringing back a tribute of thousands of magnificent war horses and immense wealth from the sea-faring merchants.
After many long months, the four brothers returned. The sight of their armies converging on Indraprastha was one of the most magnificent spectacles the world had ever seen. They came from the four corners of the earth, four victorious rivers flowing into the great ocean of their brotherhood. The tribute they brought was beyond measure. The royal treasury of Indraprastha, already full, now overflowed with a wealth so vast it was said to rival that of Kubera, the God of Treasure, himself.
But more important than the gold, the jewels, or the elephants was what they represented. Every king in the known world, from the highest Himalayan peak to the southernmost tip of the subcontinent, had acknowledged the supremacy of Yudhishthira. The Digvijaya Yatra was complete. The world had been conquered.
Yudhishthira wept as he embraced his brothers. His heart was filled with a mixture of pride, gratitude, and a profound sense of responsibility. He was now, by right of conquest and by the consent of the world's kings, the Chakravartin Samrat.
The final obstacle to the Rajasuya had been removed. Invitations were sent across the land. They were sent to every king who had offered tribute, summoning them to attend the great sacrifice not as rivals, but as honored vassals. They were sent to their allies, to Drupada and the Yadavas. And, as a final, formal gesture of respect, they were sent to Hastinapura, inviting their great-uncle Bhishma, their guru Drona, the wise Vidura, and their uncle, the blind King Dhritarashtra, along with his one hundred sons. It was not a challenge. It was a summons to witness the consecration of an Emperor.
The stage was set. The wealth was gathered. The world was united. All that remained was for the sacred fires to be lit. But as the smoke from a thousand preparatory altars began to rise from Indraprastha, it carried on the wind to the east, to the court of Hastinapura, where it smelled not of incense and piety, but of bitter, suffocating envy. The Pandavas' greatest triumph was about to become the catalyst for their deepest tragedy.