Two days after the return of Pandavas, Bahubali, accompanied by his parents and a retinue of trusted advisors, entered Hastinapur in his divine chariot Rashmi, its white horses gleaming under the sun. The city, adorned with marigolds and silk banners, buzzed with anticipation.
At the palace gates, the Kuru royal family—Dhritarashtra, Gandhari, Bhishma, Kunti, Dronacharya, Ashwatthama, Shakuni, Duryodhana, Bhanumati, the Kauravas, the Pandavas, Draupadi, and Lord Krishna—awaited, their faces a mix of warmth and restraint.
Dushala, radiant in a crimson sari, stood beside Gandhari, her smile shy but joyful.
Dhritarashtra stepped forward, his voice booming despite his blindness. "Pranipat, Magadha Naresh Bahubali. Hastinapur welcomes you and your parents."
Bahubali bowed, his tone humble. "Pranipat, Maharaj Dhritarashtra, Queen Gandhari, revered elders, and Kuru kin. Magadha is humbled by your trust. I come with my parents to forge a bond through Dushala's hand, uniting our kingdoms in dharma."
Gandhari, veiled, smiled warmly. "Welcome, Putra Bahubali, and your parents also."
Dushala blushed, exchanging a glance with Bahubali, while Duryodhana clapped his shoulder, grinning. "Mitra, you're family now!"
The Pandavas, standing with Draupadi, offered stiff nods, though Krishna's serene presence eased the tension. The group moved to the main hall, where Maharishi Veda Vyasa awaited, poring over astrological charts with priests.
The air was thick with incense as Vyasa spoke, his voice calm yet authoritative. "After consulting the stars, I declare an auspicious muhurta for the marriage of Magadha Naresh Bahubali and Princess Dushala in eight days, under the blessings of Chandra and Surya. This union will strengthen dharma's path."
All present nodded, Dhritarashtra proclaiming, "So be it! Let preparations begin!" Both sides agreed, and Hastinapur's palace bustled with activity.
Invitations, inscribed on silk scrolls, were sent to neighboring kings—Anga, Kalinga, and others—though the short notice meant only a few, like Karna and Bhanumati's kin, could attend.
Artisans adorned the palace with floral mandalas, and tailors crafted silks for the couple.
On the wedding day, Hastinapur glowed under a golden dawn. The palace courtyard, transformed into a sacred mandap, was draped in saffron and white cloth, its pillars wreathed in flowers.
A havan kund blazed at the center, tended by priests chanting Vedic mantras.
Bahubali, in a white with a dhothi, sat in a mandap.
The rituals began with **Ganesh Puja**, by offering modakas and durva grass to a Ganesha idol, invoking blessings to remove obstacles.
The priest chanted, "Om Gan Ganapataye Namah," as Bahubali sprinkled ghee into the havan.
Next came the **Kanya Agaman**, Dushala, resplendent in a gold-embroidered red sari, her hands adorned with henna depicting peacocks and lotuses, entered on a palanquin borne by Kaurava brothers.
Then Gandhari and Kunti escorted Dushala to the mandap, her anklets chiming. Bahubali's parents, beaming, placed a tilak on her forehead, welcoming her as their daughter.
The **Jaimala** followed, with Dushala and Bahubali exchanging garlands of roses and marigolds, the crowd cheering as petals rained down. Duryodhana whispered to Vikarna, "Our sister's joy lights the day!"
The **Kanyadaan** saw Dhritarashtra and Gandhari offer Dushala's hand to Bahubali, pouring holy water over their joined hands as priests chanted, "May this union uphold dharma."
The **Mangalsutra** ritual culminated the ceremony. Bahubali, with reverence, fastened a black-and-gold beaded mangalsutra around Dushala's neck, whispering, "May Mahadev and Mata Parvati bless our bond."
The crowd showered rice and turmeric, blessing the couple, while drums and flutes filled the air.
During the **Saptapadi**, the couple took seven steps around the havan, each vow binding their souls.
Bahubali's voice was steady:
"With this step, I vow to nourish you;
with this, to protect you;
with this, to share joy and sorrow…" Dushala echoed, her voice soft but firm, pledging loyalty and partnership.
The priest tied their sashes together in the **Granthi Bandhan**, symbolizing unity, as conch shells sounded.
As the rituals ended, Bahubali's heart turned to Mahadev and Mata Parvati, yearning to seek their blessings first, but he hesitated, not wishing to offend his parents or the Kuru elders.
Krishna, his eyes twinkling, sensed his dilemma and spoke, his voice warm and knowing. "Before the couple seeks elders' blessings, let them visit the nearby Mahadev mandir. Bahubali is a devoted bhakta of Shiva. Let the newlyweds go alone, to begin their journey under divine grace."
Dhritarashtra nodded, smiling. "Well said, Dwarkadhish. Bahubali, Dushala, go with our blessings."
Gandhari added, "Go, putra putri."
The Pandavas, still sour, remained silent, while Vidura's face stayed neutral, his reservations unspoken.
Bahubali gave Krishna a grateful nod, his eyes conveying silent thanks. He and Dushala, hand in hand, walked to the small marble temple nearby, its sanctum glowing with oil lamps.
Inside, they knelt before the Shiv ling, offering bilva leaves and chanting, "Om Namah Shivaya." As they bowed, a radiant light erupted from the ling, enveloping the temple.
When it subsided, Mahadev, Mata Parvati, Ganesha, and Kartikeya stood before them, their divine forms resplendent.
Dushala gasped, her eyes wide, but Bahubali gently squeezed her hand, whispering, "Bow, my love."
They touched the feet of each deity, seeking blessings. Mahadev's voice was warm. "Rise, my priya shishya, Bahubali, and your bride, Dushala. Your union pleases us."
Ganesha, grinning, teased, "Bahu, you've traded your bow for a mangalsutra! Will you wield love as fiercely as Ajaydhansu?"
Kartikeya chuckled, "Careful, brother, Dushala might bind you to her pallu!"
Dushala, still reeling, smiled shyly, her shock deepening as Mahadev called Bahubali his shishya.
Mata Parvati, her eyes tender, asked, "Dushala, bride of our beloved disciple, what boon do you seek as you begin this journey?"
Dushala, gathering courage, bowed. "Pranipat, Mata Parvati, Mahadev, Ganesha, Kartikeya. I'm honored beyond words. As for the boon, I seek a son with Bahubali's qualities—his strength, his dharma, his heart for the poor—who will continue his work of uplifting Aryavrat, even after us."
Mahadev smiled, his trident gleaming. "Your wish is pure, Dushala. I grant you a son with a vajra body, unbreakable and righteous, who will carry his legacy."
Parvati added, "This son's talent will be unmatched in Aryavrat, surpassed only by the Trimurti in their purna swaroop. He will shine as a beacon of dharma."
Dushala's face lit with joy, her voice trembling. "Thank you, Mahadev, Mata, Lord Ganesha, Lord Kartikeya. Your blessings complete our union." The deities vanished, their light lingering in the temple's air.
As they rose, Dushala turned to Bahubali, her voice awed. "Prabhu, why didn't you tell me you're Mahadev and Mata Parvati's shishya? Such a secret, even from your wife!"
Bahubali smiled, his tone gentle. "I swore to share it only with those closest to my heart, Dushala. You're my wife now, and this truth is yours. I kept it from my parents to spare them the weight of such knowledge—they live happily, and I didn't wish to overwhelm them with divine matters."
Dushala nodded, her eyes warm. "I understand, my love. Your heart is as vast as your strength. Let's keep this sacred moment between us, for now."
Hand in hand, they returned to the palace, where the Kuru family awaited, ready to shower blessings on the couple, unaware of the divine encounter that had sealed their union in Mahadev's light.