Did Arjuna kill his son?

Though there are references in several versions of the Mahabharata to Arjuna’s marriage with a Naga princess, the story of her son being killed by his own father is little known.

The Pandavas came to the forest along with Lord Krishna and spent many days together crying and laughing, talking about good times and bad times. Early one morning, while each of them was busy with their chores, Krishna, sitting under the banyan tree with eyes closed, glanced at all three worlds.

In Nagaloka, the nether world of serpents, Ulupi’s 10-year-old son, Nagarjuna, seated on his mother’s lap, asked her, “Mother, tell me who my father is. Where is he? Why hasn’t he visited us till now? Is he alive or dead? Tell me his name at least.”

Ulupi shed copious tears when she heard his words. “Don’t ask me about him, my child. I have turned my heart into stone. My mind is already like a burning wound. Don’t make it worse by pouring salt on it.” “Why are you so upset, Mother? Tell me what actually happened.”

“You are a big boy now, Nagarjuna. I shouldn’t keep it a secret from you any longer. Both my sister and I are married to Arjuna, the greatest hero in all three worlds. We are spending our days thinking about him.”

“I shall go and fetch him, Mother.” “It’s not easy. His queen, Subhadra, is the younger sister of Lord Krishna. For her sake, Krishna stays with Arjuna and ensures he doesn’t go anywhere.”

“I shall tell my father about Krishna’s mischief and try to bring him with me.”

“No child. It won’t happen as long as Krishna is around.”

“You must send me, Mother. I swear on your husband Arjuna that you shall let me go.” Ulupi admonished him but could not stop her stubborn son. She hugged him and wept. “Have no fears, Mother. I will return with my father.” Ulupi let her son go, most unwillingly.

Nagarjuna set out, armed with serpent arrows. He ground his teeth at the thought of Krishna, determined to kill him. He moved like a serpent and ran like a deer. Lord Krishna watched the antics of the boy from the world of serpents.

“He will not let me live if I don’t kill him.” While Krishna was thinking thus, Dharma came back from the stream. Through Krishna’s magic, Dharmaraya had a dream.

“What made you trek to River Ganga so early?” Krishna asked him. “My father appeared in my dream last night. I thought he said, ‘Have you forgotten me, Dharmaraja?’ I find it rather strange.”

“Aren’t you performing his death anniversary rituals?” “No, Paramathma.”

“In which case, make your offerings to him today, which happens to be Mahalaya Amavasya.”

Just then, Bhima and Arjuna, who had gone looking for fruits and roots, returned empty-handed. “Forget about fruits. We need meat for your father’s death anniversary offering. Go, shoot a deer or rabbit.”

Arjuna stood rooted to the spot listening to a sound. Nagarjuna was coming in the form of a deer. Using his knowledge of Shabdavedhi, Arjuna shot an arrow which hit Nagarjuna. To keep the truth from Arjuna, Paramathma summoned Garuda and told him to throw the boy’s body into the sea, which Garuda did.

Meanwhile, Nakula and Sahadeva returned with some fruits and tubers along with firewood. The tubers were cooked and offered to the dead King. Mahalaya Amavasya came to be known as the day when offerings were made to dead ancestors. Everyone happily feasted on the prasada.

Ulupi was lying asleep when she heard an invisible voice say, “Ulupi, your own people have killed your son and thrown him into the sea to be eaten by the fish!”

Ulupi sprang up. “How can folks who killed my son be my kin? Let the fellow who killed my son die at the hand of his own son!” she cursed.

She came to the seaside and grieved for her son. Erecting a stone under a peepal tree in Nagarjuna’s name, she said “Let barren women who bathe you in milk and worship you be blessed with a child. Wipe the tears of the folks who have lost their child.” Chitrangi comforted her grieving sister and took her back to Manipura.

The author, a retired professor of English, is a well-known theatre and television artiste and an award-winning translator.

Folktales from the Mahabharata is a monthly column that features lesser-known episodes from ‘Janapada Mahabharata’ sung by eminent folk-artiste Bettada Beedu Siddhashetty and published by Dr P K Rajashekara.