'Behold, Pāṇḍava, my condition, which I do not deserve. While you yet live, see this turning of time. She who once held sway over the earth to the shore of the ocean, now I, in fear, am subject to Sudeṣṇā. She before whom attendants once walked and behind whom others followed, now walks herself before Sudeṣṇā and behind her. Hear also this unbearable grief of mine, Kaunteya: never did I myself grind the unguent for my own body, save for Kuntī, blessings on you — yet today I grind sandalwood paste. Look, Kaunteya, at my hands: they were never like this before.' Vaiśaṃpāyana said: 'So saying, she showed him both her hands, covered with calluses.' Draupadī said: 'I, who never feared even Kuntī or any of you, now stand before Virāṭa in fear, like a servant-girl. What will the sovereign say — is the color well made or not? For, they say, the king of Matsya does not like sandal paste ground by another.' Vaiśaṃpāyana said: 'Reciting her sorrows to Bhīmasena, the radiant Kṛṣṇā wept softly, gazing upon Bhīmasena. With a voice broken by tears, sighing again and again, wounding the heart of Bhīmasena, she said: "No small sin against the gods must I have committed before, Bhīma, since, ill-fated, I live on when I ought to have died, Pāṇḍava." Then Vṛkodara, slayer of enemy heroes, took her swollen, trembling, callused hands, raised them to his face, and wept. Holding them, the mighty Kaunteya, shedding tears, then, overcome with the deepest grief, spoke these words.'