Some weeks passed after the killing of Baka. One evening, as twilight fell in Ekachakra, a handsome mendicant arrived at the door of the brahmana with whom the Pandavas lived. Always hospitable, the brahmana took the traveler in for the night.
When the visitor had bathed and eaten, he sat in the lamplit courtyard and began to regale his host with a fund of stories from his obviously incessant wandering. Many of these touched upon the holy tirthas of Bharatavarsha. The host begged the muni's permission to call his other guests, because surely they would be enthralled by his fabulous lore.
Soon, Kunti and her sons also sat raptly round the raconteur. The Pandavas were keen to hear what the world said about the burning of the lacquer palace in Varanasi. It was only later the stranger came to that.
He began with some glowing accounts of miracles he had either heard about or seen at the blessed tirthas; and he was a gifted pauranika. Then, he changed tack suddenly. "Tonight I am abroad on a royal mission. A king has sent me and others like me, across the length and breadth of Bharatavarsha with a very special message, meant just for one kshatriya's ears."
Sahadeva asked, "Who is the king? And the kshatriya?" Yudhishtira said quietly, "Let us also hear your message, Muni."
The wanderer retied his topknot with slim hands and began. "I am abroad on a mission for king Drupada of the Panchalas."
The Pandavas all gave a slight start. If the mendicant noticed in the lamplight, he gave no sign of it. "Drupada has sent me to spread the word about his daughter Draupadi's swayamvara in Kampilya. Did you know the lovely Draupadi and her brother Dhrishtadyumna were born not from a woman's body, but a fire?"
"Tell us about them," urged Kunti, an inkling of destiny alive in her.
"It is a long story. Are you patient enough to hear it through?"
They all nodded. The mendicant said, "Once there were two childhood friends, Drona and Dru-
pada. Both studied under Drona's father, the Rishi Bharadvaja. While they were students, Drupada swore that one day he would share his kingdom with Drona."
The Pandavas knew this part of the man's tale well. They did not interrupt him. He came to Arjuna's guru-dakshina and how the prince humbled Drupada in Kampilya. What the muni said next astonished his listeners.
"Even in defeat, Drupada was full of admiration for young Arjuna. He said, 'There is no kshatriya on earth like Arjuna. I must have a daughter to marry him.' At that time Drupada pretended all was forgiven between himself and Drona, but it was then he conceived an implacable hatred for the acharya."
His audience sat up; they did not know this. "It was as if the hatred flew out of Drona's heart into Drupada's and it was a demon that gave him no peace.
But Drona was Bhargava's disciple and a master of the brahmastra; no warrior on earth could kill him. Drupada left his city and wandered dementedly through a jungle, muttering to himself, 'A son to kill Drona and a daughter to marry Arjuna!'
For weeks, he wandered, possessed, until he arrived at a lonely asrama in the very heart of the jun- gle. Two rishis called Yaja and Upayaja lived in that asrama. Drupada managed to tell them what he wanted.
'My hatred is a fire that consumes me moment by moment. Drona is a master of the brahmastra. He was not born of a mortal woman and no man on earth can kill him.'
He paused, then changed his subject without warning, as the sages listened to him with grave attention. 'Arjuna is a peerless kshatriya! He came to my gates and he vanquished me. There is no archer like him in the world. I wish he were my son or, at least, my son-in-law. But I have no daugh- ter for him to marry and even if I was to have one now, she would be too young for the Pandava.'
