all around, the
son of Pritha then went, at the command of Indra, to that large and
extensive starry way called by the name of _Suravithi_. There he met
with the _Sadhyas_, the _Viswas_, the _Marutas_, the twin _Aswins_, the
_Adityas_, the _Vasus_, the _Rudras_, the _Brahmarshis_ of the great
splendour, and numerous royal sages with Dilipa at their head, and
Tumvura and Narada, and that couple of Gandharvas known by the names of
Haha and Huhu. And the Kuru prince--that chastiser of foes--having met
and duly saluted them, last of all beheld the chief of the
celestials--the god of a hundred sacrifices. Then the strong-armed son
of Pritha, alighting from the car approached the lord himself of the
gods--his father--that chastiser of Paka. And a beautiful white umbrella
furnished with a golden staff was held over the chief of the celestials.
And he was fanned with a _Chamara_ perfumed with celestial scents. And
he was eulogised by many Gandharvas headed by _Viswavasu_ and others, by
bards and singers, and by foremost Brahmanas chanting _Rik_ and _Yajus_
hymns. And the mighty son of Kunti, approaching Indra, saluted him by
bending his head to the ground. And Indra thereupon embraced him with
his round and plump arms. And taking his hand, Sakra made him sit by him
on a portion of his own seat, that sacred seat which was worshipped by
gods and Rishis. And the lord of the celestials--that slayer of hostile
heroes--smelt the head of Arjuna bending in humility, and even took him
upon his lap. Seated on Sakra's seat at the command of that god of a
thousand eyes, Pritha's son of immeasurable energy began to blaze in
splendour like a second Indra. And moved by affection, the slayer of
Vritra, consoling Arjuna, touched his beautiful face with his own
perfumed hands. And the wielder of the thunderbolt, patting and rubbing
gently again and again with his own hands which bore the marks of the
thunderbolt the handsome and huge arms of Arjuna which resembled a
couple of golden columns and which were hard in consequence of drawing
the bowstring, the god of a thousand eyes eying his son of curly locks
smilingly and with eyes expanded with delight, seemed scarcely to be
gratified. The more he gazed, the more he liked to gaze on. And seated
on one seat, the father and son enhanced the beauty of the assembly,
like the sun and moon beautifying the firmament together on the
fourteenth day of the dark fortnight. And a band of Gandharvas headed by
T