As the Pandavas and Draupadi climbed the snowy slopes of Mount Meru, seeking to attain heaven, Draupadi was the first to fall, but the Pandavas did not stop walking.

Then Sahadeva fell, and Nakula. No one stopped.

Arjuna. Then Bhima.

Alone, Yudhishthira kept on walking up the mountain.

As he walked, he reflected on the flaws that made them fall.

Draupadi had not loved all her husbands equally; she preferred Arjuna.

Sahadeva was proud of his knowledge, and Nakula of his beauty.

Arjuna had been envious, and Bhima gluttonous.

And so Yudhishthira kept walking, wondering if he too would fall.

At last, Yudhishthira came to Amravati's gate, where the devas greeted him. "Welcome, Yudhishthira! You may enter heaven's gate, but not your dog."

"What dog?" asked Yudhishthira, surprised. Then he turned and saw a dog who had followed him all the way from Hastinapura.

"The dog made the ascent," Yudhishthira protested. "His devotion is perfect! He too should enter heaven."

"No," said the gods. "You must come alone."

"If so," replied Yudhishthira, "I won't come."

Next, the dog vanished. Yama, god of dharma, appeared; Yudhishthira's father was testing him. "You have done well," he said, and Yudhishthira then entered Amravati.

As Yudhishthira entered Amravati, he saw the Kauravas mingling with the gods. Duryodhana was there, and Dushasana, happy and radiant in the light of heaven. They smiled when they saw Yudhishthira. "Welcome, cousin!" Duryodhana said.

"How can this be?" Yudhishthira cried in dismay.

"Duryodhana, Dushasana, all the Kauravas died in battle on the sacred land of Kurukshetra," said the gods. "All warriors who fall on that field ascend to Amravati."

"But where are my brothers?" cried Yudhishthira. "Where is my wife?"

"They are in Naraka," said the gods.

"I must go there!" said Yudhishthira.

So Yudhishthira then descended into hell.

In the darkness, Yudhishthira heard shrieks and groans. He recognized his brothers' voices. "Help us, Yudhishthira!"

And then he heard Draupadi. "Husband, help me!"

"Are you ready to return to Amravati now?" the gods asked Yudhishthira.

"Don't leave us!" his brothers cried.

"Stay with me!" Draupadi begged.

"I must remain here," said Yudhishthira, angry and confused.

Then he had a vision of God. He saw the Allness of God: everything, every being, all life, all possibilities. The killers and the killed, creation and destruction. Everything.

Enlightened, Yudhishthira ascended to the highest heaven, beyond Amravati. He entered Vaikuntha, God's own home.

King Parikshit had a son: Janamejaya.

One day when King Parikshit returned from hunting, Janamejaya saw he was dismayed. "Father, what troubles you?" he asked.

"I am cursed to die within seven days of snakebite," Parikshit replied. "In the forest, I entered a rishi's house. I greeted him, but he said nothing. That made me angry, so I draped a dead snake over his shoulders. The rishi's son saw me do this and cursed me."

"No!" Janamejaya said. "We will protect you."

They locked the king high in a tall tower. No snake could reach him, or so they thought.

King Parikshit climbed the tower and shut himself in the highest room. Guards stood around the tower and at every door. They searched everything and everyone, making sure no snake could find its way inside.

As the seventh day drew to a close, King Parikshit finally relaxed. He enjoyed his evening meal. Then, for dessert, he bit into a fruit.

There was a worm in the fruit.

The worm transformed into Takshaka, a mighty naga.

Takshaka then plunged his fangs into the king's flesh, and seconds later the king was dead.

He didn't even have time to call for help.

Janamejaya was grief-stricken at his father's death. "The snakes will pay for this!" he shouted. "I'll kill them all!"

He convened the brahmin priests of Hastinapura and ordered them to conduct a Sarpa Satra sacrifice which would kill all the snakes of the earth. The priests built a huge bonfire, and they chanted the words that summoned the snakes. Swarms of serpents came slithering across the ground and flying through the air, plunging themselves into the fire where they burned to death in their thousands and millions.

Then a stranger appeared. "Stop!" the young man shouted. "This sacrifice must stop!"

"Who dares interrupt my sacrifice?" shouted Janamejaya.

"I am Astika," the young man replied. "My father is a rishi, and my mother is a naga. I see both sides, human and snake. For the sake of both humans and snakes, stop this sacrifice! Takshaka sought revenge for your great-grandfather Arjuna burning Khandava forest, which was home to many nagas. Now you seek revenge for your father. Then there will be snakes seeking revenge against you for this sacrifice. The revenge must stop. We need peace, not fire. Not winners and losers. The world needs dharma."

"Tell me more," said Janamejaya.

Astika spoke to Janamejaya about King Kuru and his ancestors, about the Pandavas and Kauravas, and about the war they fought.

"God himself was there," Astika said.

Janamejaya did not understand. "How could God be there?"

"God took the form of Krishna," said Astika. "Bring the rishi Vaishampayana here, and he will tell you everything. Vaishampayana heard the story from Vyasa. Vyasa was part of the story himself, and he was also an author of the story, the Mahabharata."

So Janamejaya summoned Vaishampayana, who recited the Mahabharata as he heard it from Vyasa, and Janamejaya became enlightened. He knew dharma.

Vyasa first recited his Mahabharata to Ganesha. He also recited it to his disciples, including Vaishampayana, who repeated what he heard to Janamejaya.

Jaimini, another disciple of Vyasa, wrote his Mahabharata after meeting some birds who were present at Kurukshetra. An arrow had struck their mother flying overhead, and her eggs landed on the blood-soaked ground. Then a war-elephant's bell fell, covering the eggs and protecting them. The birds hatched and heard the war from inside the bell.

Alas, most of Jaimini's Mahabharata is lost, but there are more Mahabharatas.

Many Mahabharatas.

Now you've reached the end of this one.