Oh, that Dhananjaya whose head was
formerly decked with a diadem of solar splendour, is now wearing braids
ending in unsightly curls. O Bhima, beholding that terrible bowman,
Arjuna, now wearing braids and in the midst of women, my heart is
stricken with woe. That high-souled hero who is master of all the
celestial weapons, and who is the repository of all the sciences, now
weareth ear-rings (like one of the fair sex). That youth whom kings of
incomparable prowess could not overpower in fight, even as the waters of
the mighty ocean cannot overleap the continents, is now the
dancing-master of king Virata's daughters and waits upon them in
disguise. O Bhima, that Arjuna the clatter of whose car-wheels caused
the entire earth with her mountains and forests, her mobile and immobile
things to tremble, and whose birth dispelled all the sorrows of Kunti,
that exalted hero, that younger brother of thine, O Bhimasena, now
maketh me weep for him. Beholding him coming towards me, decked in
golden ear-rings and other ornaments, and wearing on the wrists
bracelets of conchs, my heart is afflicted with despondency. And
Dhananjaya who hath not a bowman equal unto him on earth in prowess, now
passeth his days in singing, surrounded by women. Beholding that son of
Pritha who in virtue, heroism and truth, was the most admired in the
world, now living in the guise of a woman, my heart is afflicted with
sorrow. When I behold, the godlike Partha in the music-hall like an
elephant with rent temples surrounded by she-elephants in the midst of
females, waiting before Virata the king of the Matsyas, then I lose all
sense of directions.
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