The "Brahmin" is, of course, Arjuna. He approaches the bow with a calm that unnerves the shouting kings. With the grace of a dancer and the strength of a titan, he lifts the massive weapon, strings it in a single motion, and nocks five arrows. He doesn't look up at the golden fish. He looks down into the trembling water of the vessel at his feet.
Twang. The five arrows fly as one. The golden fish is struck cleanly through the eye and falls to the ground. The stadium erupts. Draupadi, with a shy smile, approaches the stranger and places the garland of victory around his neck. But the kings are outraged. To them, a Brahmin winning a Kshatriya princess is an insult to their caste. A riot breaks out, and the Pandavas are forced to fight their way out of the arena, with Bhima uprooting a literal tree to use as a club.
They escape back to their humble potter's hut where Kunti is waiting inside. "Mother! Look what we have brought!" Arjuna shouts from the door, referring to Draupadi. Kunti, busy with her chores and thinking they have brought back particularly good alms, calls out without looking: "Whatever it is, you must share it equally among the five of you."
The words of a mother are law. The brothers freeze, Draupadi pales, and the world holds its breath; for a single sentence has just tied one woman to five husbands, a destiny that will spark the greatest civil war in history.