Arjuna’s Vow and the Brahmana’s Sons
In Dvaraka, a brahmana came weeping to the royal court: each time his wife bore a son, the child vanished on the night of birth. He stood before rulers not to accuse but to plead for a world in which cause can be named and grief can be held. Arjuna, visiting the city, felt the ache as a summons and vowed, by his bow and by his friendship with Krishna, to protect the next child—or enter fire in penance if he failed.
The vow met the night like steel meets wind. Arjuna fortified the brahmana’s home, placed arrows as guardians, and recited courage as prayer. Yet when the child arrived, nothing earthly could catch what left. The infant vanished as before, and Arjuna’s promise turned heavy. He traveled to realms of serpents and to the palace of Yama, requested and wrestled with permissions, but found no custody of the missing.
Returning humbled, Arjuna approached Krishna. Together, they rode beyond maps—through waters that remember, past darkness that measures patience, toward a radiance that does not blind because it belongs to the eye’s origin. In Vaikuntha, Vishnu received them with courtesy that felt like recognition: petitions spoken in the grammar of care are heard where care begins.
Vishnu revealed the sons, kept not as theft but as trust—a lesson staged for friendship: vows are noble, but partnership fulfills them. The children returned, and the brahmana’s house learned a new language for joy: not noisy, but thorough. Arjuna bowed, lighter for having kept his promise by releasing pride.
Dvaraka adjusted its policies: promises would be made with companions in mind, protections designed with humility that asks for help early. The city learned that failure is not an end when it becomes an invitation to the right ally. Children grew up hearing a better battle-cry: not “I alone,” but “We together.”