As the Pandavas and Kaurava’s education progressed, their teacher Drona was eager to test their skills in a grand compeition. The young princes gathered, their hearts pounding with anticipation, as the legendary warrior-sage Drona prepared to test their skills. Among them stood Arjuna, his lean frame belying the extraordinary talent that coursed through his veins.
A Test of Focus
Drona, his eyes gleaming with wisdom accumulated over countless battles, addressed his pupils. “Today,” he announced, his voice carrying across the hushed gathering, “you will face a test that separates true archers from mere bowmen.” With a wave of his hand, he unveiled a wooden bird perched atop a distant tree.
“Your task is simple,” Drona continued, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. “Strike the eye of the bird. But first, tell me what you see.”
One by one, the princes stepped forward, each eager to demonstrate their skills. Yudhishthira, the eldest, spoke of the tree’s sturdy branches, his words reflecting his grounded nature. Duryodhana, with a cocky grin, described the bird’s colorful feathers, his answer as showy as his personality.
Bhima, flexing his muscles, confidently declared, “I see the sturdy branch on which the bird rests. I could snap it with my bare hands if you asked, Gurudev.”
Nakula, with his keen eye for beauty, observed, “The bird’s feathers shimmer in the sunlight, each one a work of art.”
Sahadeva, always thoughtful, remarked, “I see the shadow of the bird on the ground, a reminder that all things are interconnected.”
One of the other princes boasted, “I can see the entire forest beyond the tree. Nothing escapes my notice!” Another, trying to impress, said, “I observe the wind’s direction by the slight movement of the bird’s tail feathers. Surely, this will help my aim.”
Arjuna’s Concentration
When Arjuna’s turn came, he stood silent for a moment, his gaze unwavering. “Master,” he finally said, his voice calm and clear, “I see only the eye of the bird.”
A murmur rippled through the crowd. Drona’s eyebrows raised slightly, a flicker of approval crossing his face. “And what else do you see, Arjuna?”
“Nothing else, Gurudev,” Arjuna replied. “The eye of the bird is all that exists in this moment.”
Birth of a Legend
With a nod from Drona, Arjuna raised his bow. The world seemed to hold its breath as he nocked an arrow, drew the string back to his ear, and took aim. For a heartbeat, time stood still.
Then, with a whisper of released tension, the arrow flew. It streaked across the field, a blur of deadly precision, and found its mark with unerring accuracy. The wooden bird’s eye shattered, sending splinters flying.
A moment of stunned silence followed, broken by Drona’s voice, filled with pride and wonder. “Behold,” he proclaimed, “the archer who will change the course of history.”