dharme cārthe ca kāme ca mokṣe ca bharatarṣabha
yad ihāsti tad anyatra yan nehāsti na tat kva cit
yad ihāsti tad anyatra yan nehāsti na tat kva cit
"In the realm of dharma, artha, kama, and moksha, (ethics, economic development, pleasure, and liberation), whatever is found in this epic may be found elsewhere, but what is not found here will be impossible to find anywhere else."
Mahābhārata, Adi Parva 56.33)
2.21: Dṛṣṭadyumna Encounters Droṇa
Beholding Bhīma’s son killed and laying like a hill on the battle-field, the Pāṇḍavas shed tears of grief. To everyone’s amazement, however, Kṛṣṇa uttered loud war cries and laughed. Dancing on the terrace of Arjuna’s chariot, He clapped His arms in happiness. He embraced Arjuna with tears in His eyes.
Arjuna looked at Him with surprise. “Why, O Madhusudana, are You showing delight at such a time? Our troops are crying in sorrow. We also are grief-stricken to see Hiḍimbī’s son slain. O all-knowing one, tell me truly why You have lost Your mind. I consider Your fickleness to be as incredible as the ocean drying up or Mount Meru walking.”
With His hand on His friend’s shoulder, Kṛṣṇa replied, “O Dhanañjaya, I feel an overwhelming happiness. Now that Karṇa has discharged his Śakti weapon, you may consider him dead. No person could have confronted him in battle if, like Kārttikeya himself, he stood with the Śakti in hand. By good fortune he has been deprived of his natural armor and now of the dart he received in exchange for the invulnerable coat of mail. He is now like an infuriated, venomous serpent stupefied by incantations, or like a fire with quenched flames.”
Kṛṣṇa told Arjuna that ever since He had heard that Karṇa had received the Śakti, He had been in anxiety. He knew the weapon’s terrible power. Even Arjuna would have been unable to check it. Now it had been spent. Karṇa could not use it again.
Arjuna looked at Ghaṭotkaca. The Śakti must surely be something extraordinary if it had brought down that mighty Rākṣasa. Why, then, had Karṇa not used it earlier against him?
Seeing Arjuna’s mystified expression and understanding his mind, Kṛṣṇa said, “Each day Dhṛtarāṣṭra’s sons would counsel Karṇa to use his Śakti and slay you, O Pārtha, and he would come out firmly resolved to do so. It was I who confounded his attempts. Keeping you at other parts of the battle, I gave him little chance to release the dart. He was always awaiting his chance. It would not have been long until he encountered you in single combat. O Pārtha, now you need have no fear of that encounter.”
Arjuna realized that it must have been more than just Kṛṣṇa’s tactical maneuvers that had saved him. Karṇa had surely had opportunities to hurl the weapon. His intelligence and memory must have been confounded by the indwelling Supersoul. The Pāṇḍava looked with wonder at Kṛṣṇa. If He desired one’s protection, then how could one be killed? And if He wished for someone’s death, then who could protect him?
Yudhiṣṭhira was sorrowful to witness Ghaṭotkaca’s death. He sat down on the terrace of his chariot and wept. Bhīma, his own heart rent with grief, tried to comfort him. Kṛṣṇa went over to Yudhiṣṭhira and said, “O son of Kuntī, do not give way to grief at such a critical time. In this dread hour of night, our roaring foes are cheering and rushing at us again. Seeing you dispirited, our own men will lose heart for the fight.”
Yudhiṣṭhira wiped his eyes with his hands. “You always see the excellent path of duty, O Keśava. We must surely remain in battle, despite reverses. But remembering the many services and kindnesses Bhīma’s son rendered us, my heart aches. That mighty-armed hero was devoted to us and has laid down his life in our service. The affection I bore for him was no less than the affection I feel for Sahadeva. The suta’s son slew him before our eyes. The evil-minded Karṇa was also instrumental in Abhimanyu’s death.”
As he spoke to Kṛṣṇa, Yudhiṣṭhira looked out into the night. The battle still raged all around the fallen Ghaṭotkaca. Karṇa’s illuminated standard could be seen moving among the Pāṇḍava forces, with fire-tipped arrows speeding away from him in all directions. Yudhiṣṭhira’s face set into firm lines. He got to his feet and took hold of his bow, the hand-carved horn studded with glowing gems.
The Pāṇḍava king called out to Kṛṣṇa as he moved off. “Karṇa and Droṇa are destroying our army like a pair of infuriated elephants destroying a forest of reeds. O Keśava, I think the time has come for them to die. I myself will advance against Karṇa. I cannot bear to see his prowess any longer. It seems Arjuna does not wish to kill him, so I will do it myself.”
After ordering Bhīma to engage with Droṇa and his supporters, Yudhiṣṭhira instructed his charioteer to take him toward Karṇa. As he left, blowing his conch and twanging his bow, Kṛṣṇa said to Arjuna, “Lo, under the influence of anger your esteemed elder brother is advancing against Karṇa. It is not right that you should allow him to engage in a fight with the suta, whose death you have sworn to accomplish.”
Arjuna told Kṛṣṇa to urge his horses on and to quickly follow Yudhiṣṭhira, but just at that moment, they saw Vyāsadeva appear on the battlefield near Yudhiṣṭhira, who stopped his chariot next to the sage and got down to offer his obeisances. Vyāsadeva touched his head in blessing and said, “O foremost of the Bharatas, it is fortunate that Arjuna still lives, although he encountered Karṇa several times in battle. The Śakti with which Karṇa slew Ghaṭotkaca was meant for Arjuna, and only by good fortune did he not use it on him. If a serious duel had taken place between Karṇa and Arjuna, he would surely have employed the Śakti. A great calamity would then have overtaken you. Ghaṭotkaca has saved you from that today. The Rākṣasa’s death was ordained by destiny. Do not give way to wrath or sorrow. All beings in this world must die.”
Pacifying Yudhiṣṭhira, the sage told him that the war was almost over. “On the fifth day from now the earth will come under your sway. Meditate on virtue. Set your mind on forbearance, charity, truth and asceticism. O son of Kuntī, victory always follows righteousness.”
After comforting Yudhiṣṭhira the sage vanished. The Pāṇḍava king, his anger abated, then called for Dṛṣṭadyumna and said, “The time for which you were born has now come. Go and check the mighty Droṇa in battle. For this express purpose did you spring from fire, armed with a bow and sword, and encased in shining mail. Attack Droṇa at once. Do not fear. Let Śikhaṇḍī, the twins, your father Drupada, Virata, Sātyaki, and all the Pañchālas and Kekayas go with you. Throw down the preceptor and end this ghastly war.”
Arjuna came up to Yudhiṣṭhira, who said, “O Dhanañjaya, I see now that you have been saved from disaster. It is Kṛṣṇa alone who is our protector. You should now exert yourself to destroy Karṇa. Dṛṣṭadyumna is advancing against the preceptor. Only four or five akshauhinis remain on the field. This war cannot last much longer.”
The two brothers looked around the battlefield. It was just past midnight and the troops were tired. Some of them had lain down to sleep wherever they had been fighting, unable to continue any longer. Others fought on, blinded by sleep and swinging out wildly with their weapons. Warriors were slain while almost unconscious from fatigue, not even feeling the blows which ended their lives.
Seeing the soldiers’ condition, Arjuna rode out into their midst and called out, “You men are all oppressed by drowsiness. If you like you may desist from the fight. Lay down your weapons and your bodies. When the sun rises we may resume the battle.”
Praising Arjuna for his compassion, the troops stopped fighting and rested. The entire battlefield gradually became silent as the men lay down to sleep on the ground or on the backs of their slumbering elephants and horses. Others lay on the terraces of their cars, their bows and swords lying next to them. Stilled by sleep, the powerful warriors and their animals lay with their many ornaments gleaming in the moonlight. The field appeared beautiful, like the work of a skilled artist.
Gradually the sky glowed red and the sun rose from the eastern hills. As the sun illuminated the field, the troops stirred and again rose for battle. The two sides were still intermingled in the positions where they had last fought. Stretching their bodies and rubbing their eyes, they bowed toward the east and offered prayers to the sun-god. Then, mounting their chariots and taking up their weapons, they regrouped into their respective divisions and waited for the order to recommence the fight.
* * *
Duryodhana had not been happy with the decision to rest for the night, but the other Kuru chiefs had disagreed with him. He had wanted to seize the advantage gained by Ghaṭotkaca’s death. The huge Rākṣasa had killed thousands of warriors as he fell, evening the odds between the two armies. Duryodhana was infuriated that the Kauravas had not been able to gain the upper hand when they had the chance. Going to Droṇa he said harshly, “You should have shown no quarter to our weakened enemy. You should not have permitted our troops to follow Arjuna’s order. Again and again you have spared the Pāṇḍavas. This is my own ill luck.”
Droṇa looked angrily at the prince. “Here I am, still clad in armor and striving to kill your enemies, and I will do whatever can be done by the might of one’s arms. Still, I do not see that we will defeat the Pāṇḍavas, especially Arjuna. If he comes at us in a wrathful mood, we will all be swiftly dispatched to Yamarāja’s mansion. How is it that you fail to understand this truth, O King, when you have seen it so many times with your own eyes?”
Enraged to hear Droṇa praising Arjuna again, Duryodhana replied, barely able to control his voice, “O teacher, today, assisted by Dushashana, Karṇa and my uncle Śakuni, I will slay Arjuna in battle.
Droṇa laughed. “May good befall you, O Bharata. Your words befit a fool. What presumptuous kṣatriya would venture to fight with Arjuna, who stands with Kṛṣṇa by his side and the Gāṇḍīva in his hand? Has any man ever returned safely after challenging Arjuna? Surely you have no intelligence. Suspicious of everyone, you are cruel and rebuke even those who work for your cause. Go and fight, then, and prove your boastful words in battle. You have declared many times that you will crush the Pāṇḍavas. Today we will see you prove your claim. Take your uncle, who prefers to fight with dice, and the vain Karṇa, and stand before Arjuna and his brothers. There they are, waiting for you. Go and do what should be done by a brave kṣatriya. You have enjoyed this life to the full. By offering sacrifices and giving charity, you have no debts. There is nothing to stop you. Go and fight without fear.”
Droṇa turned away. Nothing gave him greater pain than fighting for this arrogant prince. What sinful acts had he performed in previous lives that he was now compelled to side with Duryodhana against the Pāṇḍavas? Riding into the remaining Kauravas, Droṇa gave the order to fight. The warriors cheered, blew on their conches, and beat their drums. Then they moved off in a body toward the Pāṇḍavas, determined to fight to the death.
On that fifteenth morning, Droṇa fought with Drupada and Virata. The two monarchs stood at the head of the Pañchāla and Chedi armies. Disregarding them both, Droṇa began slaughtering their troops. He quickly caused a terrible destruction among the warriors, annihilating five thousand chariot fighters in less than half an hour. The Pāṇḍavas looked at Droṇa as if he were fire. Whichever way he directed his weapons he routed the Pāṇḍava army. None could approach him as he let go his flaming arrows.
A group of three Pañchāla princes, sons of Dṛṣṭadyumna and Śikhaṇḍī, valiantly charged at Droṇa. They struck him with hundreds of fierce shafts, but he did not waver. Licking his lips, Droṇa cut down all three princes at once with razor-headed arrows, and they fell headlong to the earth.
Drupada and Virata charged at Droṇa from both sides. They afflicted him with long shafts that made him rock on the terrace of his chariot. Drupada hurled ten lances in swift succession, followed by ten steel shafts tipped with fire. Droṇa cut down all the missiles and struck Drupada on the chest with three arrows. Drupada angrily threw a dart, decked with gold and gems, at his foe, but Droṇa cut it to pieces with his shafts.
Deciding to slay his opponents, who themselves had killed so many of the Kauravas, Droṇa took out a couple of crescent-headed arrows forged entirely of steel. Uttering mantras, he released the arrows. Drupada and Virata’s heads were severed. As the two old kings dropped lifeless from their chariots, Droṇa returned to slaughtering their armies.
Dṛṣṭadyumna, witnessing the deaths of both his sons and his father, screamed out to the troops, “Attack Droṇa! May any man who turns away from Droṇa today lose the merits of all his pious acts.”
Cheered by Droṇa’s killing of the two Pāṇḍava generals, Duryodhana came to his assistance with Karṇa and Śakuni. Duryodhana’s remaining brothers also surrounded Droṇa to protect him from attack. The Kaurava warriors knew that Dṛṣṭadyumna would now try his utmost to fulfill the prophesy that said he would kill Droṇa.
In the meantime, Bhīma became senseless with rage upon seeing Droṇa destroying the Pāṇḍava forces. He came up to Dṛṣṭadyumna and spoke harshly. “What man regarding himself a kṣatriya would stand by and watch his sons and father being slain? Having uttered a terrible oath in the assembly of kings, why do you not act upon it? There stands your sworn enemy, like a sacred fire with arrows and darts for its fuel and the bodies of men for its libations. If you will not slay him, then I will do it myself. Stand aside. I will dispatch this old Brahmin to Yamarāja’s abode at once.”
Bhīma broke away from Dṛṣṭadyumna and rushed into the Kauravas’ midst. He released torrents of shafts that swept away the fighters opposing him. Dṛṣṭadyumna, chastened by the rebuke, followed him, trying to fight his way through to Droṇa, who was now surrounded by a large number of Kauravas. The Pāṇḍava forces came up behind him and the two armies merged in a frenzied melee. As the two armies clashed, the sky was screened with dust and everyone thought night had again set in. The warriors climbed over dead bodies to reach their foes, swinging their swords and thrusting forward with sharp-tipped spears. Chariots could make no progress. Horses reared, unable to move in any direction. Men screamed in pain and then fell, dying, calling out to their loved ones. Many brave warriors lay mortally wounded and filled with joy, awaiting their ascent to the celestial regions.
Arjuna, looking for his chance to confront Karṇa, encountered Droṇa first. As Bhīma and Dṛṣṭadyumna beat a path through the Kauravas toward the preceptor, Arjuna came up behind them. While Bhīma was engaged with Duryodhana and his brothers and Dṛṣṭadyumna was held by Aśvatthāmā, Arjuna sent his gold-winged arrows at Droṇa by the thousands. A mighty battle ensued between teacher and pupil that astonished the onlookers. They appeared like two dancers on a stage, exhibiting their most wonderful motions. Arrows flew through the sky like flocks of swans. Meeting in the heavens, the shafts exploded in showers of sparks and fire.
Droṇa invoked every celestial weapon he knew, but as soon as they issued from his bow Arjuna destroyed them. Droṇa smiled and applauded his prowess. In the sky Siddhas and Gandharvas watched in wonder and praised both warriors. They could not perceive any difference between them as they stood releasing their weapons without pause. Neither could gain an advantage over the other. The gods considered the fight to be as if Rudra had divided himself in two and waged war against himself. “These two are neither humans nor celestials,” they declared. “This is a battle of brahma energy which transcends all earthly powers. If they desired, these warriors could destroy the universe.”
While Arjuna and Droṇa fought, Dṛṣṭadyumna advanced steadily toward them, intent on killing Droṇa. He was followed by the twins, who were met by Kṛtavarmā and Kṛpa. The heroes contended while the armies fought savagely around them.
Sātyaki, following Arjuna’s path, came upon Duryodhana. Long ago in Hastināpura, when Sātyaki had come to Droṇa’s school, they had been friends. Even though Sātyaki had become Arjuna’s disciple, he had maintained his relationship with Duryodhana. The two men gazed at one another across the field, remembering their youthful sports together. Duryodhana called out, “Ho there, dear friend. How cursed is the duty of kṣatriyas. Fie upon might and the desire for wealth. O foremost of Sini’s race, in the days of our childhood you were more dear to me than life itself. Alas, all those days of friendship become nothing on a battlefield. Impelled by rage and covetousness we stand here bent on each other’s death. Alas, where have the carefree days of our youth gone?”
Sātyaki lowered his bow and called back, “That he must fight even with his preceptor has always been a kṣatriya’s duty. O King, do not hesitate. If you love me, then slay me without delay. By doing so, you will launch me into the regions of the righteous. Display your full prowess. I no longer wish to witness my friends’ slaughter.”
Tears fell from Sātyaki’s eyes as he spoke. He knew the days of friendship he had enjoyed with the Pāṇḍavas and Kauravas were gone. Their friendly fights of the past were now in earnest. Bending his bow he shot a series of long shafts at Duryodhana, who immediately replied with his own arrows. The two men pierced one another repeatedly and roared in anger. A battle resembling that between Arjuna and Droṇa developed. The sky was filled with arrows as both warriors invoked their celestial weapons. Gradually, Sātyaki prevailed over the Kaurava and Karṇa came to Duryodhana’s rescue. Assisted by Karṇa, the king pulled clear of Sātyaki, his body lacerated by arrows.
Droṇa continued to destroy the Pāṇḍava army as if appointed by Death for their destruction. The oppressed troops’ screams filled the air as he assailed them with countless blazing shafts. Witnessing Droṇa’s power, Yudhiṣṭhira felt he could never become victorious. He met Arjuna and Bhīma and revealed his anxiety. “It seems that Droṇa will consume us. No one can check that mighty hero.”
Kṛṣṇa replied, “What you say is true, O King. Droṇa cannot be checked as long as he stands with his weapons raised. But if he lowers them, he can be slain. I think if he hears that his son has been killed, he will lose all heart for the fight. Tell him that Aśvatthāmā is dead. Then he will lower his bow and we will kill him.”
Arjuna was shocked. “I cannot accept this, O Madhava.” But Bhīma, upon hearing Kṛṣṇa’s words, immediately broke away. He raced into a nearby Kaurava elephant division. At its head rode Indravarma, the Malava ruler. Bhīma knew his elephant was named Aśvatthāmā. Whirling his iron mace, the Pāṇḍava smashed the beast and slew it and its rider together. He then rushed over to Droṇa and bellowed out, “Aśvatthāmā is slain! Aśvatthāmā is slain!” As he deceived Droṇa, his voice was tremulous and his heart wavered, but he knew it was Kṛṣṇa’s instruction, so he called out again and again, telling Droṇa that Aśvatthāmā was dead.
Hearing Bhīma’s words, Droṇa stopped fighting. His limbs seemed to dissolve like sand in water. However, recalling his son’s prowess, he decided it could not be true. Bhīma was known to be capricious. It would not be beyond him to speak an untruth in anger or in jest. Droṇa rallied himself and resumed his assault on the Pāṇḍavas. Dṛṣṭadyumna had reached him and they had begun to fight again. Holding off Dṛṣṭadyumna’s attack, the Kuru general continued annihilating the Pāṇḍava forces. He invoked the terrible Brahmā weapon. Warriors fell to the earth like trees uprooted in a tempest. Heads and arms flew about as Droṇa’s arrows fell on his enemies. In a short time, he had killed ten thousand chariot fighters before Yudhiṣṭhira’s eyes, even while Dṛṣṭadyumna assailed him with all his strength. Droṇa stood on the battlefield like a blazing fire without a single curl of smoke.
As Droṇa surveyed his ravaged foes, there suddenly appeared in the sky above him a group of ṛṣis headed by Agni. His own father, Bharadvāja, along with Vasiṣṭa, Viśvāmitra, Gautama, Kaśyapa, and many other celestial sages stood in the sky in subtle forms. They addressed Droṇa in a single voice that only he could hear. “You are fighting unfairly, O Droṇa, using celestial weapons against lesser warriors. It is now time for you to die. Cast away your weapons. You are a learned Brahmin and such cruelty does not become you. By employing the Brahmā weapon to kill ordinary men, you have earned disrepute. Stop these sinful acts and stop fighting. Your days are now at an end.”
Droṇa looked around. Dṛṣṭadyumna was still near him, roaring out his challenge. Perhaps the time for the prophesy’s fulfillment had arrived. Droṇa’s arms fell to his side. He could not continue. Bhīma’s words still troubled him, and the sages’ speech pained him even more. Could Aśvatthāmā actually be dead? Who could he ask and be sure to receive the truth? Seeing Yudhiṣṭhira not far away, the Kuru general went toward him. He was the one to ask--Yudhiṣṭhira would speak no lie.
Kṛṣṇa saw Droṇa coming toward Yudhiṣṭhira and said, “Save us from Droṇa, O King. If he fights for even a half day more, your army will be finished. Under the circumstances, falsehood is better than truth. Speaking falsehood in order to preserve life is not a sin.”
Kṛṣṇa cited a scriptural passage that sanctioned lying under certain circumstances, including times when life was endangered. Yudhiṣṭhira reflected on Kṛṣṇa’s words. He could not ignore them. He had never in his life spoken even an ambiguity. The thought of a lie was difficult to face. Yet if Droṇa was not checked, his forces would be defeated. The Pāṇḍava remembered Droṇa’s own prophetic statement at the beginning of the war: that he would be overpowered at a time when he heard something disagreeable from a creditable source. Reluctantly, Yudhiṣṭhira agreed to Kṛṣṇa’s suggestion. As the Kuru preceptor approached him, he gave him the false news. “Aśvatthāmā is dead,” he called out, adding inaudibly at the end, “the elephant,” as he could not tell an utter untruth under any circumstances.
Until that time, Yudhiṣṭhira’s horses seemed to move across the field without touching the earth. After he lied to Droṇa, his horses descended to earth. The sages looking on wondered why that was so. Some said that Yudhiṣṭhira’s lie had been the cause, while others argued that his reluctance to obey Kṛṣṇa’s order was the reason.
As soon as Yudhiṣṭhira spoke, Droṇa felt his heart sink into fathomless grief. His agony was compounded by the sages’ words, which made him feel like he had offended the Pāṇḍavas. Distracted by sorrow, he moved away from Yudhiṣṭhira with his weapons lowered. Dṛṣṭadyumna attacked. Droṇa was struck all over, but he did not resist. He was plunged into despair. Dṛṣṭadyumna attacked him with even more force and the old Kuru chief, incited to anger, finally raised his bow to fight back. Displaying his incomparable lightness of hand, he cut down all of Dṛṣṭadyumna’s arrows. He chanted mantras, invoking celestial weapons to destroy Dṛṣṭadyumna, but they no longer appeared at his command. Marveling, he fired volleys of ordinary arrows at his foe. Suddenly, he saw that his stock of shafts, inexhaustible for the last fifteen days, was empty.
Despondent, Droṇa decided to give up his life. He dropped his bow and repeatedly cried out his son’s name. Looking over at the other Kurus, he called out, “O Duryodhana, O Karṇa, O Kṛpa, fight with all your power. I will now lay aside my weapons.”
Droṇa sat down in his chariot and assumed a meditative posture. With his eyes half-closed and arms outstretched, he fixed his mind on Viṣṇu. As he entered into trance, he intoned the sacred syllable Om. The celestial sages, still stationed in the heavens, saw Droṇa leave his mortal frame and ascend toward the higher regions. It seemed to them as if another sun was rising in the sky as the Brahmin rose upwards.
Dṛṣṭadyumna, unaware that Droṇa had already departed, saw his chance. Taking up a razor-edged saber he jumped down from his chariot and ran toward the Kuru preceptor. All the warriors witnessing this called to him to stop, but he was not deterred. Amid cries of “Alas!” and “Fie!” he jumped onto Droṇa’s chariot with the sword held high. Grabbing hold of Droṇa’s knotted hair, he dragged him and, with a great sweep of his saber, severed his head. He then threw the head toward the Kauravas and roared in joy, whirling his blood-soaked sword in the air.
Arjuna had been shouting at Dṛṣṭadyumna to capture Droṇa and bring him alive to Yudhiṣṭhira. He was mortified by Dṛṣṭadyumna’s viciousness. His heart melted with sorrow at the cruel killing of his beloved teacher. Bhīma, however, cheered and ran over to joyfully embrace Dṛṣṭadyumna. Yudhiṣṭhira was afflicted by different emotions. Overjoyed that the hostilities would soon end, he was nevertheless full of misgivings that Droṇa’s death had been brought about by deceit. Like Arjuna, he was also saddened to see Dṛṣṭadyumna mercilessly butcher his preceptor.
The Kauravas were struck by grief and fear. Their all-conquering general was dead. Unable to believe it, they fled. Duryodhana, Karṇa, Śakuni, and the Kuru chiefs were overwhelmed by sorrow, and they ran along with their troops. As they rushed from the cheering Pāṇḍava forces, they encountered Aśvatthāmā moving in the opposite direction, like an alligator swimming against a river’s current. Surprised to see the Kauravas retreating, he stopped Duryodhana and asked, “Why do I see our army flying, O King? Why are you and all of our other heroes running away? Surely some unthinkable calamity has befallen us.”
Duryodhana could not tell Aśvatthāmā the news. He looked down and said nothing. Kṛpa came up to his side and Duryodhana said, “O son of Saradwata, tell Aśvatthāmā why we are fleeing.”
With tears flowing down his face, Kṛpa said, “With that foremost of men Droṇa at our head, we have waged a great battle with the Pañchālas, during which he has slain not less than fifty thousand of their number. Penetrating into the Pāṇḍava ranks, your father scorched our enemies like the Destroyer himself. None could stand before him. Therefore, the Pāṇḍavas decided upon an unfair means to check your father. Informing him that you had been slain, O child, they deprived him of his senses and power. Dṛṣṭadyumna, when he saw him anxious and desisting from the fight, flew at him with sword held high. Even as the preceptor sat in mystic meditation, and as many warriors shouted at him to stop, Drupada’s son lopped off his head. Thus did your father suffer death at the hands of a heartless warrior. This is why our troops are fleeing.” Aśvatthāmā cried out. His bow dropped from his hand and he fell to his knees. Insensible with rage, he shook like a tree in a tempest. His body burned and he knelt with his head between his knees for a few moments. Gradually regaining his composure, he stood up and said, “O Duryodhana, how have the so-called virtuous Pāṇḍavas committed such an act? Today they will reap the consequences. Disregarding me, Dṛṣṭadyumna has committed a heinous deed. I swear by truth that the earth will soon drink his blood, as well as that of Dharma’s son. If I do not slay every last one of the Pañchālas, I will not drag on my burdensome existence any longer. By any means, fair or foul, I will bring about the end of Dṛṣṭadyumna and his followers.”
Aśvatthāmā’s face glowed as he spat out the words. “Turn, O heroes, and fight our enemies. I will charge at your head and annihilate any who come before me. Today you will see me discharging fearful weapons equal to those of Rudra or Viṣṇu. I have in my possession the Nārāyaṇa weapon, which my father gave me, and which was given to him by Śiva. He was told by that unfailing god that the weapon will destroy any at whom it is directed. I will use it today to crush the entire Pāṇḍava army. It can only be discharged once, and I have saved it for such a moment of desperation. Now the world shall see its power.”
Aśvatthāmā roared repeatedly, inspiring new life into the Kauravas. They cheered him and rallied the retreating troops. To the beating of drums and the blasts of thousands of conchshells, the Kaurava army turned back toward the Pāṇḍavas.
2.22: The Nārāyaṇa Weapon
As the Kauravas fled, the Pāṇḍavas came together to discuss their next move. Arjuna was furious with Dṛṣṭadyumna. He smoldered as he spoke to Yudhiṣṭhira. “Drupada’s son has committed a barbaric act. You too, O King, are stained by sin. The preceptor trusted you to speak truth, but you deceived him by uttering a lie garbed as truth. You will bear the shame of this act forever, like that borne by Rāma for killing Vāli. Alas, I too am guilty in that I stood by and suffered my teacher to be cheated and killed by his own disciples. Longing for sovereignty, we have killed our own guru by foul means. I think it better for me to die than to live on after being a party to such sin.”
Arjuna lamented at length, but no one replied. Kṛṣṇa looked at him with compassion. Arjuna’s love for Droṇa was legendary. Unmanned by grief, he fell to his knees and wept.
Seeing his younger brother in the grip of sorrow, Bhīma reproached him. “It is strange indeed that today you preach morality like a ṛṣi living in the woods. Have you forgotten why we entered this war in the first place? Impelled by kṣatriya duty, we have come to punish Duryodhana and his followers. Do you not recall how they abused the sinless Draupadī in our preceptor’s presence? Have you forgotten how we were exiled to the forest even as Droṇa stood by and watched? For years we kept alive the flame of animosity so that we could mete out the proper consequences to our foes. Now that we are doing so, you lament in the name of virtue. If Droṇa’s killing lacked virtue, then why did you swear you would hurl your blazing weapons upon the Kauravas, headed by Droṇa himself?”
Bhīma’s voice rose in anger. Arjuna looked at him in silence. He was never offended by his older brother’s words. Controlling his emotions with difficulty, he listened as Bhīma went on. “Dear brother, you are rending our hearts with your piteous lamentations and reprovals. At a time when praise is in order, you are issuing stern judgments. Surely it is fortunate for our enemies that you are now bent upon forbearance. For myself, however, I see Droṇa’s death as fitting and just. Now we should waste no time in crushing the remaining Kauravas, headed as they will be by the now vengeful Aśvatthāmā.”
Arjuna clenched his teeth and said nothing. Dṛṣṭadyumna stood nearby, unrepentant. Arjuna glanced at him with reddened eyes and the Pañchāla prince addressed him in conciliatory tones.
“O Bhibatsu, I do not feel I have committed any sin. Although a Brahmin, Droṇa transgressed the duties of his order and thus became punishable by all virtuous kings. By using his brahma power, he slew countless ordinary soldiers with celestial weapons. In this way, he acted deceitfully and as a result has himself been slain by deceit. No other course was possible. You should not censure me for killing him; it was for that purpose that I took my birth from fire. I have slain the ruthless warrior by whatever means I could. Otherwise, he would have destroyed us all.”
Bhīma made sounds of approval as Dṛṣṭadyumna continued. “By killing Droṇa I am freed from my debt to my father and my kinsmen. It would have been sinful of me to have spared him. O Pārtha, you felled your aged grandsire. If that was not sinful, then why is my act condemned? Droṇa was a sinful wretch, given to serving sinful men. You should not censure me, Arjuna, but since you do, I forgive you from the love I bear for you and because you are Draupadī’s husband. Be peaceful. Yudhiṣṭhira acted rightly and so did I. Between us we have slain one whose business was injuring his own disciples. Now fight and victory will soon be yours.”
Arjuna fumed as Dṛṣṭadyumna insulted his teacher, but seeing both Yudhiṣṭhira and Kṛṣṇa remaining silent, he controlled himself. He only glanced at Dṛṣṭadyumna, muttering, “Fie! Fie!” under his breath.
Sātyaki, who had been seated on his chariot near Arjuna, suddenly leapt to his feet. Unable to tolerate Dṛṣṭadyumna’s words he exclaimed, “Is there no one who will dispatch this sinful, low, and cursed wretch? O mean-minded one, how do you dare utter such words? It is a wonder that your head did not shatter into fragments when you were on the point of slaying your preceptor. You deserve the condemnation of all pious men. Having obtained you--the disgrace of their race--seven generations before and seven after you have sunk into hell, deprived of their glory. You accuse Arjuna of killing Bhīṣma, but was it not your own wicked brother Śikhaṇḍī who caused his death? Surely there are no men more sinful than the Pañchālas.”
Sātyaki raised his mace as he continued to censure Dṛṣṭadyumna. “If you again speak such words, I will knock off your head with my mace. Simply by looking at you, O killer of a Brahmin, one has to look at the sun to purify himself. If you have any prowess, then stand before me with your weapons raised. I cannot stand to hear you abuse both my teacher and my teacher’s teacher.”
Dṛṣṭadyumna laughed. “O son of Madhu’s race, I forgive you for these words, although you are the most sinful of men. Really, no one should show forgiveness toward someone as wicked as you because forgiveness only leads people like you to think I have no power. Have you forgotten how you, O one who loves justice, slew Bhurisrava, even after he had defeated you and desisted from the fight? Hold your tongue. You should not say anything more to me. If you insist on uttering such words, I will dispatch you to Death’s abode.”
Dṛṣṭadyumna also reminded Sātyaki of all the deceitful acts committed by the Kauravas. Even on the battlefield it had been Droṇa who had arranged for Abhimanyu to be slain by unfair means. In war it is inevitable that the rules are sometimes broken. Still, righteousness ultimately decides the victory. “Therefore, fight on against the Kauravas, O Vṛṣṇi hero. There is no doubt that they should be vanquished and slain by any means at our disposal.”
Sātyaki trembled with fury. His eyes bloodshot, he seized his mace and leapt down from his chariot. He rushed at Dṛṣṭadyumna. “I will waste no more words on you. You will now be crushed by my mace.”
At a signal from Kṛṣṇa, Bhīma jumped from his chariot and stood between the two maddened warriors. He grabbed hold of Sātyaki, who dragged him a few steps, roaring in fury. Sahadeva also sprang from his chariot and said, “O foremost of men, we have no better friends than you two. Your races are as dear to us as our own. You are dear friends to each other. Remember the duties of friends toward friends and exercise forgiveness. This is no time to quarrel among ourselves.”
Dṛṣṭadyumna laughed. “Bhīma, release Sini’s grandson. Let him encounter me like the wind encounters the mountains. I will soon quell his desire for battle. Then I will destroy the remaining Kauravas. Or Arjuna can perform this feat. Let me cut off this one’s head with my arrows. He takes me to be Bhurisrava with his arm lopped off. Leave him. Either I will slay him or he will slay me.”
Sātyaki swelled in Bhīma’s arms and bellowed. He struggled to break free, but Bhīma held him fast. Like the moon spreading its cooling rays at night, Kṛṣṇa then spoke consoling words to the two antagonists. Yudhiṣṭhira also pacified them, and he and Kṛṣṇa managed at last to allay their anger. As they both calmed down and remounted their chariots, the Pāṇḍavas suddenly heard the sound of joyous roaring from the Kauravas. They looked at each other in surprise. How were their enemies so enthused? After Droṇa’s death their entire army had broken and fled.
Hearing the approaching sound, Arjuna smiled and said, “Doubtlessly, Aśvatthāmā has rallied our foes. He who upon his birth neighed like the celestial horse Ucchaishravas, and who has arms like elephant trunks and a face like a tiger, will soon come upon us in a rage. He will not tolerate his father’s heinous killing. Dṛṣṭadyumna now faces great danger. Let us prepare ourselves for the fight.”
The Pāṇḍavas saw the billowing clouds of dust rising as the Kauravas charged them once again. Forgetting their own disagreements, the warriors quickly moved into position, ready to receive the attack. They could see Aśvatthāmā’s golden standard with its lion’s-tail emblem waving at the head of the advancing Kaurava forces. Bhīma and the twins deployed a large contingent of chariot fighters to surround and attack him before he reached Dṛṣṭadyumna.
* * *
As the Kauravas raced back to battle, intent on avenging Droṇa’s death, the sun fell toward the west. Aśvatthāmā, having sworn to Duryodhana that he would annihilate both Dṛṣṭadyumna and the Pañchāla army, thought of the Nārāyaṇa weapon. Coming to within a half mile of the Pāṇḍavas, he placed the celestial arrow on his bow and recited the sacred incantations to invoke the missile. A deep roar came from the sky as Droṇa’s son summoned the weapon. Tens of thousands of fiery arrows appeared on the battlefield and flew toward the Pāṇḍava army like sun rays. Countless red-hot iron balls fell from the sky like lustrous meteors. Razor-edged discuses, axes, flaming spears, and spiked maces filled the air. The Kauravas could not perceive their foes as the hail of missiles fell toward them.
The Pāṇḍavas became anxious. It seemed that blazing missiles were springing into existence on every part of the battlefield. Wherever their warriors were stationed a shower of weapons fell from the sky. The Pāṇḍava army was enveloped in a mass of arrows and darts. The troops fell by the thousands, cut to pieces by the relentless assault. The Pāṇḍava heroes tried to resist the attack, but the harder they tried, the worse it became. The more it was resisted, the more force the Nārāyaṇa-astra seemed to have. Seeing his army being scorched, Yudhiṣṭhira shouted the order to retreat. His panic-stricken voice rose above the din of the falling missiles striking his soldiers’ armor and shields. “Flee for your lives! Do not look back. This weapon cannot be repelled. Surely this is the result of killing our sinless preceptor. I and my brothers will enter blazing fire. O warriors, go back to your homes.”
Kṛṣṇa told Yudhiṣṭhira to remain calm. He knew how to resist the weapon. Standing on Arjuna’s chariot He called, “All you kṣatriyas, quickly throw aside your weapons and come down from your chariots and elephants. Lie flat on the ground without weapons. Do not attempt to fight this weapon, for that will only increase its power. If you even think of contending with the weapon, you will be slain.”
Hearing Kṛṣṇa’s words, the warriors cast aside their weapons and threw themselves to the ground. The missiles generated by the Nārāyaṇa weapon passed harmlessly over their heads.
Bhīma saw the soldiers dropping their weapons and he shouted, “No one should lay aside his arms. Do not fear this weapon hurled by Aśvatthāmā. I will personally check its power with my swift-flying arrows. Striking Droṇa’s son with countless shafts, I will send him along the path taken by his father. O Arjuna, how can you lay aside the Gāṇḍīva and lose your fame and glory? Stand and fight. I will bear the brunt of this weapon on my broad chest. Today you will all behold my prowess.”
Arjuna called back, “Bhīma, my vow is that I will not use the Gāṇḍīva against Brahmins, cows, and any weapon of the holy Lord Nārāyaṇa. Against all these will I lay it aside. You too should stand down, O hero. This all-devouring weapon cannot be checked by the force of arms.”
Bhīma paid no heed to Arjuna and rushed at the Kauravas. Oblivious to the thick shower of missiles filling the air, he stood on his chariot releasing fierce steel arrows at Aśvatthāmā. Droṇa’s son smiled and resisted Bhīma’s attack, cutting down all his shafts as they came toward him. As all the Pāṇḍava warriors lay down on the field, the Nārāyaṇa-astra concentrated its full force on Bhīma. He became completely shrouded by blazing missiles, appearing like a sacrificial fire suddenly sprung up on the field. No one could even look at him, so brilliant was his glowing effulgence beneath the attack of the Nārāyaṇa-astra. Seeing his brother’s plight, Arjuna invoked the Varuṇa weapon. The watery weapon covered Bhīma, affording him protection from the ever-increasing power of the Nārāyaṇa weapon. But Arjuna knew it would not be long before his impetuous brother was overpowered.
Kṛṣṇa suddenly jumped down from His chariot and ran toward Bhīma, telling Arjuna to come with Him. The two heroes plunged fearlessly into the mass of fire surrounding Bhīma. They seized hold of him and dragged him from his chariot. Bhīma roared in anger as Arjuna tore his weapons from his grasp. In an urgent voice Kṛṣṇa said, “O son of Pāṇḍu, what do you think you are doing? If it were possible to check this weapon, we would all be fighting. Be still and do not act so foolishly.”
Reluctantly, Bhīma assented to Kṛṣṇa’s instructions. He lay still with his weapons put aside. The Nārāyaṇa-astra receded. Its numerous missiles went into the sky and soon vanished. When the battlefield was again clear of the missiles, the Pāṇḍavas got to their feet and took up their weapons. Saved from a grave danger by Kṛṣṇa’s advice, they mounted their chariots and horses and roared out their battle cries.
Duryodhana was annoyed to see that his foes had escaped. He approached Aśvatthāmā and said, “Quickly send that weapon again, for the Pāṇḍavas have rallied and will attack with all their power.”
Aśvatthāmā shook his head. “The Nārāyaṇa weapon can be used only once by any man. If invoked again, it will slay the person using it. Kṛṣṇa knew the secret of countering this weapon and it has thus been baffled.”
Duryodhana cursed. “Then use whatever weapons you possess. Your power is equal to that of Mahadeva himself. O son of Droṇa, slay these murderers of their preceptor without delay.”
Aśvatthāmā rushed into battle, seeking out Dṛṣṭadyumna. He assailed him with thousands of barbed arrows. Enraged, he bore down on his adversary with frightening force. He slew his charioteer and four horses and smashed his chariot. Dṛṣṭadyumna came down to the ground and warded off Aśvatthāmā’s attack with his sword and shield.
Sātyaki was near at hand and saw Dṛṣṭadyumna’s predicament. Remembering his duty as a kṣatriya, he came quickly to his comrade’s assistance. He enveloped Aśvatthāmā in a network of arrows which killed his horses and charioteer. Droṇa’s son then leapt from his chariot, still afflicted by Sātyaki’s shafts. Kṛpa came to his aid and took him onto his own chariot. Kṛpa and Karṇa then attacked Sātyaki and Dṛṣṭadyumna, as many other Pāṇḍava and Kaurava heroes rushed into the fray.
Mounting a fresh chariot, Aśvatthāmā came again toward Dṛṣṭadyumna. Once again Sātyaki came before him and Aśvatthāmā called out to the Vrishni warrior, “O grandson of Sini, I know the partiality you bear for this killer of his own teacher, but you shall not save him today. I swear by my life that I will slay all the Pañchālas, headed by this sinful wretch. You too shall fall a victim to my arrows if you try to protect him, as will all the Pāṇḍavas and their entire army. I will not be stopped.”
Aśvatthāmā pierced Sātyaki with a volley of barbed arrows. As Sātyaki reeled, Aśvatthāmā took up a long shaft that glowed with a brilliant effulgence. In an instant he released it with all his power. It penetrated Sātyaki’s armor and dug deeply into his shoulder. Stunned, the Vrishni fighter squatted on the terrace of his chariot, and his charioteer took him away from the battle to recover.
Aśvatthāmā turned his attention to Dṛṣṭadyumna, launching a vicious attack on the Pañchāla prince. Releasing his mantra-inspired shafts with all his power, he pierced every part of his body. Dṛṣṭadyumna was overpowered by the sheer ferocity of Aśvatthāmā’s attack, and he leaned on his standard pole for support. A number of Pāṇḍava heroes rushed to his rescue. Headed by Bhīma and Arjuna, they surrounded Aśvatthāmā, shooting arrows at him from all sides. Aśvatthāmā countered their arrows with astounding speed and skill. He struck all of his assailants with his own shafts and roared out his dreadful war cry.
Not caring for his own life, Aśvatthāmā fought in a frenzy. The thought of his father’s death drove him on as he forced back his attackers. No one had ever seen him fight so fiercely. While holding the principal Pāṇḍava warriors in check, he simultaneously slew a large number of Pañchāla soldiers with his celestial weapons. Kings and princes of various domains came against Droṇa’s son, but they were all quickly slain.
The Pañchālas turned and fled as Aśvatthāmā wrought an awful carnage among them. But he killed them even as they ran in fear, their weapons cast aside. Arjuna shouted, “O son of Droṇa, stop killing ordinary soldiers. Here I am, ready to destroy your pride. Exhibit the full limit of your prowess, manliness and knowledge, and also of your partiality for Dhṛtarāṣṭra’s sons and hatred for us. Dṛṣṭadyumna and I will crush you. He has already slain your father and now stands ready to kill you as well.”
Aśvatthāmā writhed at Arjuna’s harsh words. Their old friendship from the days in Droṇa’s school was obviously forgotten. Now they were fighting to the death. Glaring at the Pāṇḍava, Aśvatthāmā thought of the Āgneya weapon. He placed a golden shaft upon his bow, muttered the incantations with concentration, then let it go with a cry. At once a thick shower of arrows fell from the sky. A dense gloom enveloped the battlefield, and fiery meteors dropped down. Fierce winds blew in every direction, lashing the warriors with stones. The terrifying cries of Rākṣasas and Piśācas resounded from the darkness, and jackals howled from all sides.
Afflicted by the celestial weapon, the Pāṇḍava forces shrieked in fear and pain. They were struck by blazing arrows that came at them from all directions. Aśvatthāmā’s skill at the secret mystical sciences endowed the Āgneya weapon with menacing power. Men, horses and elephants were slaughtered and burned to ashes as if caught in the final conflagration that burns the worlds. But Agni, remembering the incident at Khāṇḍavaprastha, had his fiery weapon pass harmlessly over Arjuna and Kṛṣṇa.
Seeing the fire-god’s irresistible energy summoned for the Pāṇḍavas’ destruction, Arjuna composed his mind and thought of the brahmāstra. Invoking the most powerful of all weapons, he at once dissipated the dense darkness. As Brahmā’s weapon neutralized Agni’s, the sky cleared and a cool breeze blew. Tens of thousands of warriors lay on the battlefield, their bodies burned beyond recognition.
Aśvatthāmā was amazed to see his weapon checked and Arjuna emerging unscathed. How had he survived the Āgneya weapon, which had killed tens of thousands of other warriors? Both Arjuna and Kṛṣṇa had been right in the path of the weapon, but both were unharmed. Aśvatthāmā felt hopeless. First the Nārāyaṇa-astra, and now the Āgneya weapon--both had been foiled by Arjuna and Kṛṣṇa. How could he contend with such foes? They were invincible. Throwing down his bow in despair, Aśvatthāmā jumped from his chariot and ran from the battlefield. He cried out, “Everything is illusion!” and sped away from the fight, entering a copse of trees. His grief for his father overwhelmed him. He felt as if he would never be able to avenge him. Even his most powerful weapons were ineffectual against the Pāṇḍavas. What was the use of fighting them?
As Aśvatthāmā was running, he met Vyāsadeva, who was approaching the battlefield. Droṇa’s son stopped and bowed before the ṛṣi. He asked him why his weapons were useless against Arjuna. Vyāsadeva explained that Kṛṣṇa was the Supreme Lord. He was Nārāyaṇa, or Viṣṇu; indeed, the immortal Nārāyaṇa was simply a part of Kṛṣṇa. There was no living being anywhere who could overpower Kṛṣṇa or anyone He protected. Even Śiva considered himself Kṛṣṇa’s servant. He too had once been bested by Him in a fight.
Hearing Vyāsadeva’s descriptions, Aśvatthāmā thought better of Kṛṣṇa. If Vyāsadeva’s words were true, then it was no surprise that his weapons had been baffled. As long as Arjuna had Kṛṣṇa on his chariot, there would be little point in further encounters with him. Dispirited and sorrowful, Aśvatthāmā realized that all-powerful destiny was ultimately in control. In the face of fate, man could do nothing except execute his duty and leave the results to destiny. From Vyāsadeva’s words, it seemed as though the Kauravas would be defeated. But who could know ahead of time what destiny would finally decree?
Bowing again to the sage, Aśvatthāmā turned back toward the battlefield. It was still his duty to fight for Duryodhana and, especially, to honor his slain father; his enemies had to be punished. He could not leave the battle now.
As Aśvatthāmā returned, the sun was setting. The two armies retreated, exhausted after fighting for almost two days and a night. Despondent at Droṇa’s death, the Kauravas returned sorrowfully to their camp, while the Pāṇḍavas returned to the sounds of trumpets, drums and conchshells.
When they reached their encampment, the Pāṇḍavas saw that Vyāsadeva had arrived. Arjuna got down from his chariot and went over to the sage. Bowing and touching his feet, he said, “O all-opulent one, I have seen something today which inspired me with great wonder. As I released arrows toward my foes, I saw before me a male being, shining like fire. He held a blazing trident and whichever way he turned, my enemies were burned and destroyed. Although he never hurled his trident, nor any other weapon, his energy alone seemed to annihilate my foes. Who is this personality, O great sage?”
Placing his hand on Arjuna’s head, who still knelt before him, Vyāsadeva replied, “O son of Kuntī, you have seen Shankara, the great destroyer of the worlds. Out of his love and respect for Kṛṣṇa, he walks before your chariot, scorching your enemies with his irresistible energy. Even the powerful universal protectors could not stand before him. Go forth and fight with confidence, O Dhanañjaya. Defeat is not for one who has Janārdana by his side.”
After assuring the Pāṇḍavas that the war would soon be over, Vyāsadeva left. Worn out from the fight, the warriors went straight to their tents to rest for the night.
2.23: Karṇa in Command
In Duryodhana’s tent the monarchs and warriors sat in silence, gazing at Droṇa’s empty seat. Duryodhana himself was overcome by grief. He drew long breaths and stared at the ground. Some of his friends comforted him, citing Vedic verses about the eternality of the soul and the temporality of all things material. They also consoled Kṛpa, who was lamenting the death of his beloved friend and brother-in-law. Aśvatthāmā had gone to his tent, wanting to be alone.
After a while the kings departed, leaving Duryodhana alone with Karṇa, and Śakuni, and his brothers. They said little and sat remembering the miseries they had inflicted on the Pāṇḍavas, feeling deep regret. As the evening wore on, they lay down on costly couches. Tossing in anxiety, they could not rest. The night dragged on. Duryodhana thought again of the Dānavas. It seemed they had kept their promise to assist him. Droṇa had fought demonically, but still he had been brought down. What power did the Pāṇḍavas have on their side? Could nothing stop them?
As the sun at last approached the eastern sky, the Kauravas rose listlessly and went about their morning rituals. Coming together again with the other monarchs, they decided to install Karṇa as their commander. The installation ceremony was performed, and after giving charity to the Brahmins, they moved toward the battlefield for the sixteenth day.
Praised and blessed by the Brahmins, the Kuru army marched out, determined to avenge Droṇa. Karṇa rode at their head, clad in brilliant armor and shining like his celestial father on his resplendent chariot. As he left for the battle, Karṇa cheered the Kauravas with his roars and shouts, while bards and poets sang his glories. By his side rode Duryodhana, his remaining brothers behind him. They were flanked by Aśvatthāmā, Kṛpa, Kṛtavarmā and Śalya. Other powerful kings followed those heroes, leading their armies and forming them into an array shaped like a bird. All the warriors then put aside their previous reverses. Hoping for victory, they charged into battle with loud cries.
Seeing their foes approaching in a heroic mood, the Pāṇḍavas arranged their troops into a half-moon formation. The two armies converged, yelling out war cries and blowing their conches. Of the original six million warriors, less than one million remained. They all knew that the war would be over only when all of them were slain. Duryodhana would fight to the last and the Pāṇḍavas would not relinquish their claim to their kingdom. There were still invincible heroes on both sides who stood unflinching in battle. Thus it was certain the two armies would be annihilated, leaving the great heroes on either side to contend for the final victory.
Karṇa, fired by his position as the Kaurava commander-in-chief, began to slaughter the remaining Pāṇḍava forces. As he released his oil-soaked arrows in all directions, he seemed to his enemies to be like the blazing sun with its fierce rays. Indiscriminate about whom he attacked, he felled soldiers, horsemen, elephants, and chariot fighters alike. Bhīma, Nakula and Sātyaki rushed to check his progress. They rained weapons upon him and gradually forced him back. Other Kauravas came to Karṇa’s assistance and a fierce battle ensued between the heroes of both sides.
A terrible encounter took place between Bhīma and Aśvatthāmā which even the celestials watched with wonder. Finally, Bhīma overpowered Aśvatthāmā, who was carried unconscious from the battlefield. Bhīma was also wounded. He collapsed, exhausted, and was similarly borne away by his charioteer.
Karṇa, fighting his way free from his antagonists, careered again into the Pāṇḍava army. With innumerable arrows he crushed the troops, cutting through their ranks like fire through a dry forest. Pursued by a number of Pāṇḍava heroes, he ranged about causing carnage among their forces.
On another part of the field, Arjuna fought without mercy. Charging against the remaining Nārāyaṇas and the few surviving Samshaptakas, he ruthlessly cut them down with his unfailing shafts. The Kaurava forces under Arjuna’s attack appeared like the ocean tossed by a raging storm. Longing for his chance to encounter Karṇa for their final fight, he wasted no time in slaying his unretreating foes.
Karṇa, as he slaughtered the Pañchāla and Somaka warriors, was caught and challenged by Nakula. That fearless Pāṇḍava warrior hurled a number of deadly darts at Karṇa, who responded by cutting them to pieces with swift arrows. He shot blazing shafts at Nakula, who in turn cut them down with his own. After fighting intensely for some time, the two men stood back and glared at each other.
Nakula called out, “By good fortune have I had this opportunity to fight you today. You are the root of all the misery we have suffered, and you are also to blame for this great war. By your fault, so many great warriors now lie slain and the world is filled with widows and orphans. Take the consequences of your wickedness, O wretch. I am here to punish you.”
Karṇa sneered. “O brave one, first strike me and then speak. Only after achieving great feats in battle do heroes utter bold words. Let us see your prowess. I will surely destroy your vanity.”
Both warriors immediately pierced each other with winged arrows fired at blinding speed. They roared and circled one another. Both released countless arrows that the other countered. As they invoked celestial weapons, the sky was filled with shafts, casting a dark shadow over the battlefield. Gradually, Karṇa gained the upper hand. He slew Nakula’s charioteer and four horses. Nakula took up a sword and shield, but Karṇa quickly cut them to pieces. The Pāṇḍava then grasped his spiked mace and jumped down. Karṇa broke the mace with straight-flying shafts. Laughing, he rode over to his disarmed foe and struck him with his bow. Nakula burned with shame and grief as Karṇa rebuked him.
“O child, go to your elder brothers. You should not wage war with the powerful. Your strength lies only in words.”
Karṇa, remembering again his promise to Kuntī, did not attempt to kill Nakula, who then ran to Yudhiṣṭhira in humiliation. Climbing aboard his brother’s chariot, he shed hot tears of anger and sighed heavily. He thought of Arjuna and Kṛṣṇa. Soon the cruel-minded Karṇa would meet his end. He could display his power only for as long as those two great souls did not charge at him in anger.
Karṇa continued to assail the Pāṇḍava forces. Circling around the field with his bow constantly sending forth flaming shafts, he appeared like a wheel of fire. He came against the Sṛñjayas and slaughtered them by the tens of thousands. As Karṇa annihilated his foes, other battles took place. Kṛpa contended with Dṛṣṭadyumna, Kṛtavarmā with Sātyaki, and Bhīma battled Dhṛtarāṣṭra’s sons and slew another twenty. Yudhiṣṭhira met Śalya, and numerous other powerful heroes came together in a furious trial of arms. The celestials were awed by the encounters.
Arjuna single-handedly destroyed the Nārāyaṇa army, even though he was simultaneously surrounded by many powerful ratha and maharatha warriors. With crescent-tipped shafts he beheaded his foes and lopped off their limbs. Ranging about freely, he crushed the Kauravas with an endless stream of arrows from the Gāṇḍīva.
As the sun reached the western horizon, the battlefield presented a gruesome scene. Half of the warriors who had gone out to fight lay dead. The earth was strewn with carcasses and the wreckage of chariots and armor. Bodies lay burnt beyond all recognition. Flocks of vultures circled the field and jackals bayed. Seeing darkness enveloping the combatants, Karṇa ordered the Kaurava army to withdraw. He did not want another night battle. The soldiers pulled away from each other, praising their enemies’ prowess, and headed back to their camps.
* * *
Duryodhana sat in his tent sighing and squeezing his hands. Of his eleven akshauhini divisions, only one remained. It was almost inconceivable. So many supposedly invincible heroes had been slain. Warriors who had never before tasted defeat now lay embracing the earth like men clasping their lovers. Most of the damage had been done by Arjuna and Bhīma. How much longer could it go on? Those two haughty Pāṇḍavas had to be killed. He would take care of Bhīma, but why had Karṇa not yet killed Arjuna? Duryodhana looked at his friend.
Understanding Duryodhana’s mind, Karṇa said, “Arjuna is always alert, persevering, skillful and intelligent. Even when an opportunity arises to overpower him, Kṛṣṇa intervenes and saves him. Still, I will not be thwarted. Today he evaded me by various kinds of deceit, but tomorrow I will baffle all his attempts and slay him for sure.”
Duryodhana was heartened by Karṇa’s confidence. “So be it.” He dismissed the assembly and told everyone to meet at dawn to decide their strategy for killing Arjuna.
The next morning, Karṇa came alone to Duryodhana. The Kaurava chief waved him to a fine seat as his attendants put on his armor. Tying on his leather finger guards, he said, “Well, dear friend, are you ready to face Arjuna?”
Karṇa replied somberly. “Today I will fight an unforgettable battle with that famous hero. Either I will slay him or be slain by him. If I cannot kill him today, I will not return from the field. Even though I have been deprived of my Śakti weapon, I do not consider myself his inferior. I have received powerful celestial weapons from Paraśurāma and can match Arjuna in speed and lightness of hand. Today you will see me contend with Arjuna even as Indra fought with the Daityas. This whole earth, with its thorns removed, will soon be yours. There is no deed I cannot perform for you, O King, nor is there any man who can withstand me when I am angry. But I need something from you.”
Karṇa explained how the one area where Arjuna was superior was that he had Kṛṣṇa as his charioteer. “Kṛṣṇa guides his chariot with superb skill. I need one who can match Kṛṣṇa’s ability at driving a chariot. I can only think of Śalya for this task.”
Duryodhana looked up sharply. Śalya was one of the most powerful heroes still remaining among the Kauravas. It would be a shame to lose him. Neither would he take kindly to being asked to perform the lowly job of charioteer--especially for Karṇa. Moreover, Śalya was the Pāṇḍavas’ relative. Could he be trusted?
Seeing Duryodhana’s doubtful expression, Karṇa said, “Assisted by Śalya I see myself emerging victorious. He is famed throughout the world for his skill at handling chariots. There are none better than he at assessing the strengths and weaknesses of the enemy. He has pledged himself to your cause, O King, because you satisfied him. As a man of unfailing virtue, he will do everything in his power to help me. Therefore, go to him and convince him to become my driver.”
Duryodhana looked thoughtful. This was perhaps his only chance to win the war. Without overcoming Arjuna, defeat was certain. He nodded. “I will convince the Madras monarch to accept the office of charioteer. Numerous chariots will be placed at your disposal, each equipped with every weapon. I will also make available hundreds of cartloads of arrows.”
Duryodhana knew that the battle with Arjuna would require a vast number of shafts to match his inexhaustible supply. He issued orders to his servants, then got up and left the tent. Seeing Śalya in his tent, he approached him in a servile mood. “O mighty hero, best of men, O you of invincible prowess, I come with a humble request. Karṇa has asked that you become his charioteer for today’s fight with Arjuna. There is no other who can match your abilities in driving chariots. Indeed, you are Kṛṣṇa’s equal. O best of chariot-warriors, I therefore beg your assistance. Out of the affection you bear me, kindly accept this post.”
Duryodhana continued to praise Śalya’s abilities, assuring him that there was no other warrior in the world who could ensure, by expert chariot driving, that Karṇa overcame Arjuna. The whole army was depending on him. If Arjuna was not checked soon, the Kauravas would shortly be annihilated.
Śalya looked at Duryodhana in horror. He stood up suddenly and paced the floor of his tent. “O son of Gāndhārī, you offend me with such a request. How do you reckon me to be less than Karṇa? Are you suspecting my loyalty and endeavor in the battle? I am capable of performing any feat that the suta’s son can do. Allot to me as my share any heroes you choose. After slaying them all, I will return to my own kingdom. If you wish me to fight alone against the Pāṇḍavas, I will do so. But this request is an insult. I should leave this war at once, having heard such words from you, but I will not abandon my duty out of passion or anger.”
Śalya was furious. As a kṣatriya, it was his duty to fight and not to drive chariots. Driving chariots was the duty of śūdras. It was ordained in scripture that śūdras should serve kṣatriyas, but never vice versa. Karṇa hailed from a family of śūdras, and he, Śalya, was the crowned monarch of a great country. Śalya glared at Duryodhana. “I do not know how I can continue fighting for you now. After receiving this insult I feel more like returning home.”
Śalya stormed out of his tent and Duryodhana ran after him. The prince stopped him and reached down to touch his feet. “Please do not misunderstand me and take offense. I did not in any way mean to infer that you are less than Karṇa. Nor do I doubt your sincerity. Nor indeed do I desire the King of Madras to degrade himself by performing some inferior duty. There is no question of any of these. O lord of the earth, I see you as being in every way Karṇa’s equal and more. Please let me explain my intentions.”
Duryodhana told Śalya that among all the warriors on the field no one could equal Kṛṣṇa. He was far superior to all, yet he had accepted the role of Arjuna’s charioteer. It was for this reason that Duryodhana had thought of Śalya, who was like a second Vāsudeva. Karṇa could contend equally with Arjuna in a trial of arms, but he needed a charioteer comparable to Kṛṣṇa. The prince said that both he and Karṇa could not think of anyone better than Śalya.
Hearing Duryodhana praise Kṛṣṇa, the Madras monarch was pacified. Like his nephews, the Pāṇḍavas, he loved Kṛṣṇa. He remembered his promise to Yudhiṣṭhira. It had surely been ordained by fate that he should drive Karṇa’s chariot for this battle. Making up his mind, Śalya said, “Your glorification of Devakī’s son has softened my heart. I will consider taking this role, but only on one condition: I must be allowed to speak whatever I please in Karṇa’s presence.”
Duryodhana breathed a sigh of relief. “So be it. Let us go to Karṇa.”
Further encouraging Śalya, Duryodhana recited an old history of how Mahadeva had once fought with the Dānavas and Daityas. At that time, Brahmā had served as his charioteer. There was no shame in a powerful hero taking the position when the need arose. When they reached Karṇa’s tent, Duryodhana said, “See here this mighty hero, O monarch. Can it be that he is born of a suta? In my view he is the offspring of some great deity. Surely he was begotten in a race of kṣatriyas and abandoned at birth. Look at his immense chest and his arms like tree trunks. See his handsome face, his regal stature and bearing. He resembles the sun in splendor. I cannot accept that he was born of a suta woman.”
Śalya greeted Karṇa and said, “I will become your charioteer for the great battle. However, I am doubtful about the outcome. Even if by some chance you manage to slay Arjuna, you will then see Keśava enter the fight, weapons in hand.”
Śalya turned to Duryodhana. “Without doubt Kṛṣṇa will annihilate your race with all its allies and followers. What, then, will be the use of killing Arjuna?”
Duryodhana seemed unconcerned. “O King, I am not afraid of Kṛṣṇa when I have both Karṇa and you on my side. How will Keśava overcome you in battle? Karṇa will surely slay Arjuna. Then you and he will be more than a match for Kṛṣṇa, even if He is supported by His followers. And if Karṇa should be slain, then we will depend on you alone.”
Śalya looked at Karṇa, who was carefully tying his armor. It was probably the last time he would ever do that, the king of Madras thought. “So be it, O Bharata ruler. I will drive Karṇa’s chariot.”
Karṇa thanked Śalya and they both embraced Duryodhana. Then they left the tent together to meet with the other warriors. After agreeing on a strategy, the Kauravas mounted their chariots and horses, roared and blew their conchshells, and Śalya took up the reins of Karṇa’s great chariot and drove it out at the head of the army. Ten thousand drums and as many trumpets sounded as the Kaurava forces moved off for battle. As they went toward the battlefield, Karṇa said, “Take me at once to the place where the Pāṇḍavas stand. If necessary, I will fight with all five brothers. Drive the horses quickly, O great hero, so that I may kill Arjuna, Bhīma, Yudhiṣṭhira, and the twins. Today the world will witness my incomparable prowess.”
Śalya laughed, “O son of a charioteer, why do you make light of the Pāṇḍavas? Those five heroes are unconquerable and have Kṛṣṇa as guide and protector. O Karṇa, when you see them creating a canopy in the sky with innumerable shafts, you will not speak such words. When you hear the twang of the Gāṇḍīva, you will surely regret your proud utterances.”
Karṇa, ignoring Śalya, exclaimed, “Drive on!” and his chariot thundered forward toward the Pāṇḍavas.
As the two armies closed, dreadful portents were seen. Cloudless thunder resounded from the sky, and a shower of stones fell. Fierce winds blew in the Kauravas’ faces. On their right they saw herds of animals moving past them, and jackals howled. Their horses shed tears and their standards trembled.
Paying no heed to the omens, the Kauravas rushed into the fight, driven by destiny. Seeing Karṇa blazing like a brilliant fire at their head, they felt victory to be theirs. They shouted out their war cries and waved their weapons in the air as they charged into battle.
Karṇa called out to the soldiers, “Any man who will show me the whereabouts of Arjuna will be richly rewarded. I will give gold, gems, and fine horses to he who points out the Pāṇḍava. Show me where Arjuna and Kṛṣṇa are fighting and I will award you whatever wealth they leave after I slay them.”
Hearing those words, Duryodhana cheered his friend. Cymbals clashed and thousands of drums were beaten.
Śalya laughed again. “O suta’s son, you are foolishly offering your wealth in charity as if you are Kuvera. Do not worry, you will find Arjuna easily. There is no need to give away your riches, especially to unworthy persons. Soon enough you will find him yourself. Your bragging is of no use. Never have I seen a fox overthrow a couple of lions. You are unable to see what should be done and what should not be done, and that is why it is obvious to me that your life is at its end. O Karṇa, it appears that you have no real friends to prevent you from hurling yourself into the fire. As your friend, I advise you to approach Arjuna with caution, backed by a large division of men. Do not rush against him alone, like a man trying to cross the ocean with only his two arms and a stone tied around his neck.”
Karṇa scowled at Śalya. “You are an enemy in the guise of a friend!” he barked. “I have no fear of Arjuna. Depending only on the strength of my arms, I will meet and overpower him. No man will shake me from this determination.”
Śalya again spoke derisively. “When keen-edged, kanka-feathered arrows strike you all over, you will repent your vanity. Like a child on his mother’s lap seeking to catch the sun, you wish to defeat Savyasācin. You are challenging Arjuna like a young deer challenging an angry lion. Do not, out of folly, strike a black cobra with your bare hand. Do not shout at Arjuna like a frog croaking at a great cloud pouring showers of rain. As a jackal living among hares considers himself powerful until he meets a tiger, so you roar out your own praises until you encounter Arjuna and Kṛṣṇa. Say whatever you will. Soon your mountain of pride will be broken by Arjuna’s thunderbolt-like shafts.”
Karṇa’s breath came in short, heavy rasps. He burned under Śalya’s tirade. Although the Madras monarch had come to Duryodhana’s side, it seemed his actual allegiance lay with the Pāṇḍavas.
Tightly clutching his bow, Karṇa responded harshly. “O King, only the meritorious can recognize the merits of others. Being bereft of all merits, you cannot see what is good and what is bad. I am fully aware of Arjuna’s prowess, and I know my own power as well. Thus I have challenged the Pāṇḍava knowing full well my ability to defeat him. His Gāṇḍīva, his ape banner, and his charioteer Kṛṣṇa may strike terror into the timid, but for me they are sources of joy. Today you will see me strike down both Arjuna and Kṛṣṇa with a single shaft. They will look like two pearls on a string. Today, everyone will see my birth, nobility and power. Do not mock me, O foolish one.”
Losing his temper, Karṇa rounded on Śalya, his angry voice booming out as his chariot moved across the field. “You are wicked-minded and of bad character. Because you are afraid, you praise the enemy. Or perhaps you praise them for some other reason. Whatever it is, after killing my foes, I will also kill you and all your relatives. Born in a sinful land, you are a mean wretch among the kṣatriyas. Do not try to frighten me with your empty words. I could slay a thousand Kṛṣṇas and hundreds of Arjunas. Hold your tongue, O you born in a sinful country.”
Karṇa continued to insult Śalya. He described Madras as a country populated by low-class and degraded people. Citing many popular sayings spoken by the Madrakas’ enemies, he abused Śalya and his homeland. He was not surprised that the Pāṇḍavas’ uncle should have spoken to discourage him, but he was not prepared to tolerate it. Raising his mace he said, “O king of Madras, if you speak again in such strains I will crush your skull. Only out of regard for Duryodhana have I not done so already. Drive on toward Arjuna. Either the world will hear that I have slain Dhanañjaya and Vāsudeva, or they will hear that the brave Karṇa was killed by them.”
Unruffled, Śalya reminded Karṇa of Arjuna’s feats of valor, including the occasion when he had overpowered all the Kurus, including Karṇa.
Karṇa snorted. “I will not be affected by your words, O man of evil intent. You cannot inspire me with fear. My only fear is the curse of the Brahmins.”
Karṇa knew he faced great peril due to a long-past mistake he had once committed. Realizing that it may well prove his undoing, he told Śalya how he had accidentally slain a Brahmin’s cow when out hunting many years ago. The Brahmin had cursed him, saying, “When you face your deadliest enemy, the earth will swallow your chariot wheel. You will then become afraid.”
After describing the incident Karṇa said, “Still, I will not turn back. Accepting the Brahmin’s curse, I will stand against Arjuna and cut him down with my arrows. Even the angry words of my own preceptor will not stop me today.”
Karṇa was thinking of Paraśurāma’s curse. He would forget the mantras for the brahmāstra at the time when he needed it most. Careless of both imprecations, Karṇa commanded Śalya to drive on. Everything lay in destiny’s hands. Victory or defeat were never certain for anyone. If fate decreed it, then despite impediments he would emerge victorious. If not, then despite his greatest endeavor and superior skills, he would lose the fight.
Karṇa and Śalya continued to trade insults as they approached the battlefield. Duryodhana heard their raised voices and went up to them, beseeching Śalya with folded palms not to discourage Karṇa and asking Karṇa to forgive him. Both men fell silent and sped on across the field, seeing the Pāṇḍava forces looming large in the distance.
2.24: Karṇa’s Prowess
Yudhiṣṭhira saw Karṇa charging at the head of the Kauravas. Turning to Arjuna He said, “Behold, O Dhanañjaya, the enemy’s mighty formation which Karṇa has arranged. Take whatever steps are needed to check them. Today, you must slay the suta’s son.”
Arjuna smiled. At last he would get the chance to slay his mortal foe. He had been waiting for this moment since the day of the tournament in Hastināpura. He would have killed Karṇa then, had he had the opportunity. Perhaps all this death and destruction would have been avoided. Somehow, it had not been sanctioned by fate at that time.
Arjuna saw Karṇa’s banner billowing in the distance. “Everything will be done as you say, my Lord. By killing Karṇa I will bring about the Kauravas’ destruction.”
As Arjuna went forward to encounter Karṇa, Yudhiṣṭhira ordered Bhīma to confront Duryodhana and his brothers, Sahadeva to fight with Śakuni, Sātyaki with Kṛtavarmā, and Pandya, the king of southern Bharata, to fight with Aśvatthāmā. Yudhiṣṭhira decided to fight with Kṛpa.
The two armies converged. On Duryodhana’s order, Arjuna was surrounded by thousands of troops. If possible, the Kaurava wanted to weaken him before he met Karṇa.
Karṇa charged into the midst of the Pañchālas and slew them on all sides. Dṛṣṭadyumna, Śikhaṇḍī and Draupadī’s sons challenged him and fired thousands of shafts. Three of Karṇa’s sons, Bhanusena, Sushena and Vrishasena, came to his assistance. They were all maharathas and they contended powerfully with the Pāṇḍava warriors. Soon Bhīma entered the fray, and Karṇa was joined by Dushashana.
With a razor-headed shaft, Bhīma slew Bhanusena in front of Karṇa. He then attacked Sushena, piercing his chest with three iron arrows that made the prince fall to his knees. Raging, Karṇa struck Bhīma with hundreds of arrows. Oblivious to the attack, Bhīma fired a razor-headed shaft to destroy Sushena, but Karṇa cut it down in mid-flight. Sushena recovered from Bhīma’s attack and rushed angrily against Nakula, who was challenging him.
Other great heroes from both sides entered the fight with joyous roars. In the melee, thousands of warriors were killed or mangled by the deadly shafts that filled the air. Karṇa cut through his opponents and met Yudhiṣṭhira.
Seeing Karṇa before him, Yudhiṣṭhira called out, “O Karṇa, son of a charioteer, hear my words. Vain and arrogant, you always challenge Arjuna and foolishly consider yourself his equal. Now your pride will be crushed. Stand and fight with me. Display your prowess and your hatred for the Pāṇḍavas. I will soon destroy your desire for battle.”
Without replying, Karṇa immediately fired a number of straight-flying arrows that pierced Yudhiṣṭhira’s chest. Infuriated by Karṇa’s contempt for him, Yudhiṣṭhira took up a long golden shaft that was capable of splitting a mountain. Charging it with mantras he released it from his fully drawn bow. It penetrated Karṇa’s side, and Karṇa dropped to his knees and swooned.
The Kauravas cried out when they saw Karṇa’s plight, but then he rose to his feet and stared at Yudhiṣṭhira. Breathing heavily, he released arrows end-to-end that completely covered the Pāṇḍava king. He slew the two warriors protecting Yudhiṣṭhira’s chariot wheels and struck his charioteer with a dozen arrows.
Yudhiṣṭhira fought back valiantly and checked Karṇa’s speeding arrows with his own. Karṇa laughed and stepped up his attack, sending volleys of barbed shafts. Numerous Pāṇḍava warriors surrounded him in order to protect Yudhiṣṭhira. They rained down arrows, darts, lances and spears on Karṇa, who then invoked a celestial missile which filled the sky with blazing shafts.
Coming clear of his assailants, Karṇa trained his attack on Yudhiṣṭhira. With deadly accuracy he cut off the Pāṇḍava’s bejewelled armor. It fell from his body like a cloud decorated with lightning dropping from the sky.
Yudhiṣṭhira hurled a large iron dart at his antagonist, but Karṇa cut it to pieces before it could reach him. Yudhiṣṭhira followed it with four barbed lances that pierced Karṇa’s armor and made blood spurt from his body.
Karṇa threw the lances aside and assailed Yudhiṣṭhira with countless shafts. Without his armor and with his charioteer slain, Yudhiṣṭhira was unable to stand before the attack. He jumped down from his chariot and fled from the fight. Karṇa pursued him and jeered, “In what family were you born, O hero? It seems you do not know the duties of kṣatriyas. I think you are better suited for the life of a Brahmin in the forest. O son of Kuntī, do not fight again with powerful warriors and use harsh language. Go and give yourself to the practice of asceticism.”
Humiliated and angered, Yudhiṣṭhira ran over to Dṛṣṭadyumna’s chariot and jumped aboard. Not knowing of Karṇa’s promise to Kuntī, he could not understand why he had been spared. Dṛṣṭadyumna bore him to safety in the midst of the Pāṇḍava forces, and other warriors attacked Karṇa.
Bhīma, witnessing his elder brother’s defeat and humiliation, was seized with an uncontrollable rage. He flew toward Karṇa screaming out his battle cry. Those warriors who came before him were instantly cut to pieces by his arrows or pounded to a pulp by his whirling mace. Seeing him approach, Śalya said, “Here comes the second son of Pāṇḍu, raging out of control. I have never seen him display such a terrible form. It appears that he will annihilate the three worlds with all their mobile and immobile beings.”
Karṇa smiled. “I will slay this one at once, and thus bring Arjuna to my presence for our final encounter.”
Karṇa released a cluster of crooked arrows that flew with a twisting motion and had razor-sharp tips. Some of the shafts glanced off Bhīma’s armor, but others pierced his shoulders and arms. The fuming Pāṇḍava felt nothing. He responded with dreadful arrows shot from his fully drawn bow. Rocked by the power of Bhīma’s shafts, Karṇa released a broad-headed arrow that sundered his opponent’s bow. But Bhīma instantly took up another bow and again attacked Karṇa.
Karṇa hit Bhīma with a hundred arrows as a hunter strikes a proud and infuriated elephant in the forest. Senseless with rage, Bhīma took up a single long shaft that resembled a lance. He discharged it from his bow and it hit Karṇa like a thunderbolt hitting a mountain. Stupefied, Karṇa sat down on the terrace of his chariot.
Seeing Karṇa’s condition, Śalya, conscious of his duty as a charioteer, quickly carried him from the fight.
Duryodhana became fearful for Karṇa and he instructed his brothers to go to his assistance. The princes rushed at Bhīma like a swarm of insects approaching a fire. Over twenty of them surrounded Bhīma, backed by a large number of chariot fighters. They covered the Pāṇḍava with arrows, darts, lances and heavy clubs.
Smiling to see himself encircled by Dhṛtarāṣṭra’s sons, Bhīma set about killing them one by one. He beheaded some with crescent-headed shafts, and with long arrows he pierced the vital organs of others. Killing a dozen of the princes in a matter of minutes, Bhīma sent up a roar that terrified the Kauravas. He appeared like Yamarāja himself. Impervious to all weapons, the marauding Pāṇḍava hurtled about the field shooting arrows on all sides.
Dhṛtarāṣṭra’s surviving sons fled in terror. Bhīma slaughtered their troops without mercy. He ranged among the Kaurava warriors spreading death and destruction wherever he went.
Regaining his senses, Karṇa re-entered the fray. He rushed against Bhīma and assailed him with countless arrows. Another fierce encounter ensued between the two. Both men continued to slay the soldiers of the opposing army even as they attacked one another.
Some way off from the fight, Arjuna’s great banner flew. He was surrounded by thousands of Kaurava troops. In the midst of those warriors, Arjuna and Kṛṣṇa appeared like the sun and moon covered by dense clouds. The Gāṇḍīva’s twang and Hanumān’s roars combined to create a sound so terrifying that it paralyzed the Kauravas’ horses.
Assailed by innumerable burning arrows, the Kaurava warriors pressed forward toward Arjuna like men advancing into a tempest. Hundreds of thousands were cut down, but they continued to close on Arjuna with their swords and maces held high. They began clambering up onto his chariot and dealing both Arjuna and Kṛṣṇa violent blows. Dozens of warriors took hold of Arjuna, but he shook them off and fought back with his steel saber. Throwing the Kauravas down from his chariot, Arjuna took up a golden arrow decked with gems and invoked the Nāga’s Paridava weapon. Suddenly, the Kauravas found themselves bound by their legs and unable to move. Great snakes, brought into being by the celestial missile, held them fast as they struggled to get free.
Arjuna remorselessly slew his immobilized foes even as Indra formerly annihilated the demons with his Vajra weapon. Seeing his soldiers tied down, Susharma invoked the Suparṇa weapon. Suddenly, thousands of vultures descended from the sky and devoured the snakes holding the warriors. The serpents fled as the vultures came at them, their talons outstretched.
Freed from their bonds, the Kauravas again assailed Arjuna with all their strength. The Pāṇḍava withstood their attack and invoked the Aindrastra. Waves of blazing shafts swept across the battlefield. Sorely afflicted, the Kauravas cried out and fell in lines as the flaming arrows tore into them.
Seeing his enemies routed and fleeing, Arjuna said, “It seems that this army has been overpowered, O Madhava. They are running like deer at the sight of a lion. Surely it is time I encountered the suta’s son. I see his banner moving among Yudhiṣṭhira’s division with alacrity. Leaving aside these warriors, O Govinda, take me to that mighty hero. I shall finish his battle career at once.”
“Let it be so.” Kṛṣṇa then urged on the horses and the chariot moved off toward Karṇa, stationed two miles away. Many powerful Kauravas came before Arjuna to check his progress, but he swept them ruthlessly aside with his weapons. The Pāṇḍava steadily approached Karṇa, cutting down countless charioteers, horsemen and elephants on the way. Twenty-five thousand warriors soon lay slain by Arjuna. The fierce barbarian armies of the Kambhojas, Yavanas and Sakas were pressed back and crushed as Arjuna made his way across the field. Another twenty thousand of their number were cut to pieces by his straight-flying arrows.
Karṇa, having broken away from Bhīma, slew the Pāṇḍava forces even as Arjuna killed the Kauravas. His arrows, with a touch like poison, felled his enemies by the thousands. Other Kaurava heroes supported him and rained down arrows on the Pāṇḍavas, who in turn sent an immeasurable volume of shafts back at their foes.
The battlefield presented a ghastly scene, with mutilated bodies lying in heaps. Headless torsos ran about with blood spurting from their necks. Their severed heads lay with staring eyes and clenched teeth. Warriors slipped and fell as they fought in the blood-soaked mire, pitilessly hacking at one another.
Karṇa once again attacked Yudhiṣṭhira. Seeing this, Mādrī’s two sons challenged him and immediately covered him with arrows. Karṇa smiled and fearlessly fought against the three Pāṇḍavas together. He cut apart both Nakula and Sahadeva’s bows and struck Yudhiṣṭhira on the chest with a cluster of powerful shafts that rendered him senseless. With another dozen arrows, he killed Nakula’s horses and charioteer. Striking both Nakula and Sahadeva with a relentless stream of shafts, Karṇa placed them both in difficulty.
Seeing the plight of his maternal nephews, Śalya said, “Why are you wasting your time? You are supposed to fight with Arjuna, now that you have vaunted your prowess. It seems you are intent on avoiding him. Do you not see him coming toward you? If you are powerful, then train your weapons upon him. Do not tarry here with the others.”
Karṇa looked across the field and saw Arjuna’s chariot not far away. He also saw Bhīma, who had been waging a battle with Duryodhana. Kuntī’s second son had overpowered the Kaurava prince and placed him in a precarious position.
Remembering again his promise to Kuntī, and realizing that he could not kill any other Pāṇḍava than Arjuna, Karṇa raced to Duryodhana’s assistance. At the same time, Aśvatthāmā, Kṛpa and Kṛtavarmā came to support their king. Bhīma, backed by Dṛṣṭadyumna and Sātyaki, assailed the Kaurava heroes with arrows resembling steel spears.
Yudhiṣṭhira, afflicted by Karṇa’s attack, left the battlefield with the twins protecting him. He made his way in shame back to his camp, unable to continue the fight. His armor was smashed and his body covered with wounds. As expert physicians tended him, he told the twins to return to the fight. They charged back to the battle, where they found Karṇa releasing the Bhārgava missile. That celestial weapon caused thousands of arrows to shoot forth in streams from his bow. Those kanka and peacock-feathered shafts mowed down the Pāṇḍava soldiers. Nothing was visible on the battlefield except the dense sheet of arrows.
Under such a fierce attack, the Pāṇḍava forces cried out and ran about in terror. They repeatedly prayed to Arjuna and Kṛṣṇa to save them. Hearing his troops’ piteous cries, Arjuna said, “Behold the mighty Bhārgava weapon, O Keśava. No one can withstand it in battle. See the charioteer’s son resembling Death himself performing dreadful feats. The time for our final meeting has come. Death or victory are now the only options left for us both.”
Kṛṣṇa steered the chariot clear of Karṇa’s hail of shafts and replied, “Yudhiṣṭhira has left the field badly wounded. I think you should first see him and ensure that all is well. After that, kill Karṇa.”
Kṛṣṇa suggested that while they were seeing Yudhiṣṭhira, Karṇa would wear himself out by fighting others. He also desired to reassure Yudhiṣṭhira, whom He knew would be feeling anxiety after seeing the destruction caused by Karṇa. Agreeing to Kṛṣṇa’s suggestion, he went over to Bhīma and asked him to protect the army in his absence. Bhīma replied, “Go at once to see the king. I do not know if he survives. Have no fear for us. I will check all the suta’s weapons. When you return, you can easily slay him.”
Arjuna thanked his brother and went swiftly to Yudhiṣṭhira’s tent. Finding him well and resting, he was relieved and bowed at his feet. As he rose, Yudhiṣṭhira, thinking that Karṇa must have been slain, said, “I am indeed glad to see you, O Arjuna. Pleasing too is the sight of Keśava. That both of you are hale and hearty even after standing before Karṇa is a wonder. That suta was like a deadly serpent with his fangs ever-exposed. Energetic and powerful, no one could resist him in battle any more than one could resist the ocean. O Achyuta, O Arjuna--Karṇa and I fought, but he reduced me to this pitiable condition. Addressing me in harsh words, he cut me to the quick. Now by good fortune you have slain him.”
Arjuna was dumbfounded. He stepped back in surprise as Yudhiṣṭhira went on addressing him in joy. “O Dhanañjaya, for thirteen years I have lost sleep thinking of Karṇa’s prowess. Even while awake I would see an illusion of Karṇa. It appeared as if the whole universe was filled only with him. Surely I rushed at him impelled by Death himself. Vanquished by him, I was released and allowed to live. Alas, what use is my life after such humiliation? Only the fact that you have killed him gives me relief.”
Yudhiṣṭhira smiled broadly at Arjuna. He forgot the pain of his wounds as he went on eagerly questioning him. “Tell me how you overcame the wicked one. I want to hear all the details. Tell me how he now lies besmeared in blood and mangled by your shafts. Without doubt, the fool Duryodhana now laments and sees his imminent defeat. That the dull-headed Karṇa, who insulted Draupadī so grievously, now lies killed gives me more pleasure than ascending to heaven. O Dhanañjaya, describe everything to me.”
Arjuna took a deep breath. “O King, you are not aware of the facts. I have been under attack by hordes of Kaurava warriors. Numerous great heroes have charged at me roaring out their battle cries. Dispatching all those fighters to Yamarāja’s mansion, I pressed on toward Karṇa. Finally reaching the indomitable hero, I found him annihilating our troops with his weapons. I then learned that you had been overpowered and made to retreat. Thus I came here at once to be sure of your welfare before killing Karṇa.”
Yudhiṣṭhira’s head fell to his chest. “Alas!” he cried.
Arjuna placed a hand on his elder brother’s shoulder. “O illustrious King, do not despair. I will immediately carry out your heart’s desire. Even as Śakra encountered Vṛtrasura, I will encounter Karṇa and end his life. Do not doubt it, for it is my solemn vow. Come and witness the fight. I beg your blessings, O King. Only say to me, ‘May victory be thine’ and Karṇa is as good as dead. Let me return to the fight.”
Yudhiṣṭhira, still pained by his humiliation at Karṇa’s hands, was suddenly seized by anger. Shaking his head, he said, “Your birth in Kuntī’s womb was in vain, my brother. How could you leave the field without killing Karṇa? Surely it was out of fear that you have come here, seeking to avoid the suta’s son. How has your promise proved false? If you had told me in the forest that you could not kill Karṇa, then I would never have left that place. All our hopes have been frustrated, like a man expecting fruits from a tree and receiving flowers instead. For thirteen years we have expected much of you, like men who have sown seeds and await the rains to fall.”
Yudhiṣṭhira got to his feet. The Brahmins tending to his wounds stood back as he raised his voice against his brother. “Why, O wretch, did you not make over the Gāṇḍīva to Keśava? He would have slain Karṇa without delay. If you are unable to face him in battle, then give your famed bow to another warrior who may be equal to the task. Due to your failure, the world will see us with all our relatives sunk into the fathomless abyss of hell. It would have been better if you had come out of Kuntī in the fifth month as an abortion rather than being born in a royal line and then showing your back on the battlefield. Fie on your Gāṇḍīva! Fie on the strength of your arms and your numberless arrows. Fie on your Hanumān emblem, and fie on Agni’s chariot.”
Yudhiṣṭhira slumped back onto his bed. He gazed up at his younger brother with eyes red with anger. Arjuna said nothing. He breathed heavily and clenched his fist around the hilt of his sword. Pulling out the long gleaming blade, he raised it to kill his brother. Kṛṣṇa quickly stepped in front of him and grasped his arm. Preventing him from advancing toward Yudhiṣṭhira He exclaimed, “Here, O Dhanañjaya, I see no adversary to try the strength of your steel. You have seen that Yudhiṣṭhira is well and should now be rejoicing. Why then do you suddenly seize your sword? What makes you yearn for fight at this time, or have you lost your mind? In a sullen mood you are drawing your sword with no apparent cause.”
Arjuna stared past Kṛṣṇa at his older brother. Breathing short and hot breaths, he replied, “I have made a vow to behead anyone who tells me to give up my Gāṇḍīva. In Your presence the king has uttered these words and I cannot forgive him. I will run my sword through this pious king and redeem my vow. What else can be done now, O Keśava? You know everything. I depend on Your advice.”
Arjuna was now in a dilemma. His anger had abated when Kṛṣṇa intervened, but he could not break a vow under any circumstances. But how could he kill Yudhiṣṭhira? Lowering his sword he waited for Kṛṣṇa to speak.
“Fie on you, Arjuna! Now I can understand that you have never waited upon venerable elders, since, O mightiest of men, you give way to anger at an inappropriate time. Those versed in the subtleties of religion would never contemplate what you are considering, O Pārtha. One who performs such a heinous act is certainly the vilest of men. Surely you are a stranger to the scriptures as you do not know what is right and what is wrong. How can you rush upon your elder brother, intent on killing him, oblivious to the fact that he is your worshipable lord? He is not an aggressor nor even an enemy; he is not engaged in a fight and, as your superior, is seeking your shelter. For these as well as other cogent reasons, you cannot slay him without incurring sin.”
Arjuna replaced his sword in its scabbard as Kṛṣṇa continued. “O Pārtha, your vow was made out of childishness. Now hear from me about the higher principles of religion. Out of a desire to preserve truth, you are ready to kill your brother, but you do not know that even truth should not be uttered where it will produce an adverse result.”
Kṛṣṇa cited a Vedic verse which described instances when speaking untruth was not considered sinful. In those instances, truth was actually considered untruth. Such times were when life was threatened, when a Brahmin was in danger, or if one’s entire fortune was at stake. At those times, to lie was not considered sinful.
Kṛṣṇa added, “In all cases, O Pārtha, the highest virtue lies in not harming other creatures. Killing in righteous battle and murdering another for one’s own purposes are different and produce quite different results. Indeed, untruth which protects against the latter may be considered truth. Your adherence to so-called truth in this case simply shows your ignorance of true morality. Any act free from the motive to injure any being is surely true morality. The moral precepts exist for this purpose. Morality cannot be ascertained by logic, nor even in every case by a study of the scripture. One must seek the guidance of experienced and wise elders to learn its subtleties. All this I have heard from the ṛṣis, O Pārtha.”
Arjuna’s head fell. His anger had completely subsided. Kṛṣṇa raised His hand toward Yudhiṣṭhira and said, “Now tell e, O hero, if you feel this virtuous king deserves to be killed by you.”
Tears fell from Arjuna’s eyes as he replied. “O Kṛṣṇa, You have spoken as a man of great wisdom and intelligence would speak. Who knows the subtleties of truth better than You? Surely You are like our father and mother. You are our only sanctuary and Your words are always beneficial. Again You have saved us from a terrible calamity. I admit that the righteous Yudhiṣṭhira cannot be killed, but, O Keśava, I am in a dilemma. Whether my vow was right or wrong, it nevertheless stands. How will my words not prove false? All my vows will be worthless if I find reason to evade even one of them. At the same time, I cannot kill Yudhiṣṭhira and myself remain alive. How, then, can I preserve my vow and also the king’s life?”
Kṛṣṇa placed His arm around Arjuna’s shoulder. “O valiant one, Karṇa has harassed the king. Heavy at heart, he spoke angrily to you. He also hoped to provoke you to slay the suta’s son without delay. Dharmarāja sees none other capable of killing Karṇa. Thus he used harsh words out of frustration and disappointment. O Pārtha, you should fulfill his desire and slay the wicked-minded Karṇa in battle. As far as your promise is concerned, here is how you may be saved.”
Kṛṣṇa quoted a scriptural injunction that stated that an elder should never be addressed disrespectfully. One so addressed by his inferior is said to die at heart. Kṛṣṇa told Arjuna to insult his brother. “Thus you will kill him without taking his life. After this, you can gain his forgiveness by falling at his feet and worshipping him.”
Realizing that this was his only recourse, Arjuna reluctantly agreed and insulted Yudhiṣṭhira. He compared him unfavorably with Bhīma, deriding his power and calling him a coward. Accusing him of being addicted to gambling and of being the cause of the war, Arjuna suggested that he should not become the sovereign. As he spoke words he had never before uttered, his heart sank. He felt disconsolate and shameful, considering himself covered by sin. Sighing heavily, he again unsheathed his sword.
Seeing Arjuna with sword in hand once more, Kṛṣṇa said in surprise, “What is this? Why do I again see your sword, lustrous like the blue skies, drawn? If you still have doubts, then speak them out. I will settle them for you.”
Filled with remorse, Arjuna replied, “I will destroy my body, for it has sinned grievously against the pious king.”
As Arjuna turned his sword toward his heart, Kṛṣṇa said urgently, “Stop! O slayer of foes, this is an act as condemned as the killing of Yudhiṣṭhira. You are surely seized with some false religious zeal in that you were first ready to slay the king and now yourself. Do not give way to sin in the name of virtue. O Pārtha, if you loudly recount your own glories, that will be the same as self-destruction, for no cultured man glorifies himself.”
Once more checked by Kṛṣṇa, Arjuna sheathed his sword and did as Kṛṣṇa suggested, speaking his own praises. He then hung his head in shame and said to Yudhiṣṭhira, “O King, be pleased with me. My life is devoted to you. Forgive my foolishness and my unwarranted words. I will now go forth and kill Karṇa.”
Dropping to his knees, Arjuna took hold of Yudhiṣṭhira’s feet. “Please bless me with success,” he said, placing his head on his elder brother’s feet.
Yudhiṣṭhira got up from his bed and spoke without cheer. “O Arjuna, dear brother, I am at fault. Because of me you have been put into danger. Only by Keśava’s interference were you saved. I deserve to be killed. Who is more wretched than I? A dull-headed sinner and coward, I’ll repair at once to the forest and let Bhīma take the throne. Your harsh words rang true, O Pārtha. I am unfit to rule the earth. Let me go to the forest.”
Yudhiṣṭhira stood to leave. He tightened his cloth and walked toward the door of his tent. Kṛṣṇa quickly stepped in front of him and bowed at his feet. As Yudhiṣṭhira reached down to lift Him up, Kṛṣṇa said, “O King, where are you going in such a somber mood? You should not take Arjuna’s rebukes seriously. He could never hold such thoughts in his heart, and he spoke them only to avoid the unthinkable act of killing you. Both he and I have acted in an unmannerly fashion, O best of men. I beg your forgiveness. Be peaceful. Today the earth will drink Karṇa’s blood. Do not doubt it.”
Pacified, Yudhiṣṭhira replied, “O Govinda, I accept what You say. Indeed, You have saved me too. I was steeped in ignorance and You have rescued me, for You never lose Your intelligence. You have carried Arjuna and I over the ocean of grief and remorse.”
Turning to Arjuna, Yudhiṣṭhira said, “O hero, go and slay the suta’s son with your infallible shafts. This will surely bring about our success and satisfy Keśava.”
Arjuna was still consumed by shame for what he had said to Yudhiṣṭhira. Seeing his elder brother so deeply affected made it even worse. He fell at his feet weeping, begging his forgiveness in a choked voice. “O King, nothing of what I said was true. It was spoken only to save me from falsehood. I have hurt you most grievously. How can I ever be forgiven?”
Yudhiṣṭhira raised his brother and embraced him. He assured him that he had taken no offense. Arjuna then set his face in determined lines. Assuming a fearful expression, he said coldly, “The evil-minded one will reap the fruits of insulting you, dear brother. I swear by truth that he will fall in battle today, cut down by arrows released from the Gāṇḍīva.”
Yudhiṣṭhira held up his hand to bless Arjuna. “May you attain unfading fame and eternal life. May victory attend you and may the gods grant you continuous prosperity. Go forth, my child, and shatter Duryodhana’s hopes. I too will soon return to the fight.”
Arjuna asked Kṛṣṇa to prepare his chariot and then took his leave from Yudhiṣṭhira. After receiving blessings from numerous Brahmins, he mounted his chariot and set off for the battlefield. He blew a terrific blast on his conch shell and repeatedly slapped his arms. Seeing the mighty archer heading out in an angry mood, everyone felt that Karṇa was already slain. Various auspicious omens surrounded Arjuna as he rode out to the fight. Ahead of him flew a number of vultures, hawks and ravens in anticipation of food. Arjuna, impatient to meet Karṇa, clasped his Gāṇḍīva and stared ahead as the chariot picked up speed.
2.25: Arjuna Encounters Karṇa
While Arjuna was seeing Yudhiṣṭhira, Bhīma was locked in ardent battle with the Kauravas. Not caring for his own safety, he went into their midst, releasing blazing shafts in all directions. Sātyaki, Śikhaṇḍī and Uttamaujas followed him, beating back their foes with a furious assault.
Dushashana, Śakuni and a force of mountain warriors charged Bhīma. The Pāṇḍava met them head on and struck them down on all sides. Uttamaujas then joined Bhīma and was attacked by Sushena, Karṇa’s eldest son. Using all his strength, Uttamaujas released an arrow that tore off Sushena’s head. Seeing this, Karṇa was overwhelmed with grief and stood stunned for a few moments. Then he looked for vengeance. He turned his attention to Uttamaujas and quickly slew his horses and charioteer. With a volley of shafts he shattered his chariot and cut his standard to pieces.
Uttamaujas, countering Karṇa’s arrows with shafts of his own, leapt from his broken chariot and ran over to Śikhaṇḍī’s chariot. Both men then contended with Kṛpa and Kṛtavarmā. Rushing ahead of them, Bhīma fell upon the Kaurava troops, spitting venom. They could hardly look at Bhīma as he flew about like the mighty Rudra dealing destruction at the end of creation. A cry of woe rose from the Kauravas. Torn asunder by the noble-minded Bhīma, they rushed pell-mell. Mangled by his arrows and crushed by his mace, they screamed and ran to Karṇa for protection.
After dispersing his enemies like a gale scatters clouds, Bhīma said to his charioteer, “O Vishoka, I am afraid for Yudhiṣṭhira’s life. Arjuna went to see him and has not returned, even though Karṇa is still releasing fearsome celestial weapons. We are surrounded by numerous Kaurava warriors, who are ready to tear out our lives at the first opportunity. All this weighs heavily on my mind. When will Arjuna return?”
Bhīma had no time to find out. Dushashana and his brothers were coming at him again, backed by thousands of chariot fighters. He asked, “O Vishoka, I have hurled a huge number of arrows and other weapons at my foes today. Tell me, how much stock still remains? Should I attack my foes with arrows and darts, or simply grind them to a pulp with my mace?”
Vishoka replied, “O hero, you have sixty thousand arrows left, as well as twenty thousand of both razor-headed and broad-pointed shafts. Therefore, attack your enemies without any restraint.”
Bhīma took up his bow and sent a hundred steel shafts at Dushashana and Śakuni, who charged toward him side by side, closely followed by Dhṛtarāṣṭra’s remaining sons. As Bhīma contended with the warriors, Vishoka said, “O hero, do you hear that sound? I think it is the Devadatta filling the four quarters with mighty blasts. Look south. The Kaurava forces are fleeing like animals who have seen a lion. There in the distance is Arjuna’s ape banner. Surely the gods have favored us today, for Dhanañjaya has come again to the battle.”
Bhīma paused and gazed south. Sure enough, there was Arjuna’s celestial banner. Relieved, he said, “For this most welcome news, O charioteer, I will grant you a dozen villages, twenty of the finest chariots, and a hundred servants. Surely Yudhiṣṭhira is well because Arjuna blows his victorious conch again and again. This marks the end of Karṇa’s career.”
With joy Bhīma resumed the fight with renewed power, spreading total confusion among the Kauravas.
* * *
After leaving the camp, Arjuna’s chariot sped toward the fight. As it neared the battlefield, he wondered how he might kill Karṇa. It was already mid-afternoon. Karṇa would not be slain without a battle. Arjuna knew he would have to encounter him soon. He could not afford to be distracted by other Kaurava heroes, but Duryodhana would surely try to place obstacles in his way. Arjuna could hear the cries of the warriors and the clash of weapons ahead. No doubt Karṇa was ranging among the Pāṇḍava troops like Mahadeva among the demons.
Seeing his friend pensive, Kṛṣṇa said, “O Pārtha, there is no man equal to you in prowess and vigor. I have seen many a hero, valiant like Indra, sent off to the highest regions after meeting you in battle. There is not a single warrior anywhere who can survive after encountering you in a fight. The son of Radha is not to be taken lightly, but I cannot see him emerging victorious from the impending contest. O hero, cut short that arrogant fool’s days. He only disdains the Pāṇḍavas. Slay him and strike at the root of all evils. Frustrate the desires of Dhṛtarāṣṭra’s sons and end this war. How can Karṇa live after meeting you with the Gāṇḍīva in hand?” As he drove the chariot toward the thick of battle, Kṛṣṇa continued to reassure Arjuna. He reminded him about the many all-but-invincible warriors who had already been defeated--Bhīṣma, Droṇa, Bhagadatta, and others. Hearing Kṛṣṇa’s assurances, Arjuna shook off his apprehension. He took out his conch shell and blew a blast that filled the four quarters. He then drew his bow to its full extent and twanged the string, sending forth a thunderous crash. Looking around the field at the startled soldiers he said, “My greatest assurance, O Govinda, is that I have You as my guide. With Your assistance all things are possible. With You at my elbow, I can defy the three worlds marshaled in a mighty array and launch them into eternity--what to speak of Karṇa? I will doubtlessly lead him to his life’s final goal. Duryodhana has accepted him as his protection, but I will shatter that hope; and he will recall his many wicked deeds toward us, especially his abuse of Draupadī. He is about to reap the results of that unforgivable sin.”
Thinking back to the dice game and to Abhimanyu’s killing, Arjuna felt his anger rise like a fire fed with oil. Just ahead of him he saw Bhīma completely encircled by Kaurava warriors. He was waging a fearful battle, sending out fiery shafts that tore into his foes.
Arjuna rode straight into the fight and beat back the Kauravas with waves of arrows. Not far off, he could see Karṇa’s tall standard and he made his way toward him. At once he was met by Kṛpa, Kṛtavarmā, and a number of Duryodhana’s brothers. Repelling their attacks, he moved steadily toward Karṇa. His long shafts flew from the Gāṇḍīva like lightning bolts, sending his aggressors reeling. Arrows shot at Arjuna fell uselessly from his impenetrable armor or were struck down mid-flight by Arjuna’s own shafts. Pursing his lips and narrowing his eyes at Karṇa in the distance, he relentlessly drove into the Kaurava forces.
Arjuna struck down numerous elephants Duryodhana had directed against him. Rows of charioteers rushed at the Pāṇḍava only to be felled by thousands of arrows shot in straight lines. He crushed his foes like a maddened elephant trampling a lake full of lotuses.
After destroying four divisions of troops, each containing ten thousand brave warriors, Arjuna looked across at Karṇa and said, “O Keśava, I see Karṇa not far off. Duryodhana himself is protecting him, along with a number of other maharathas. Drive my chariot straight at them, O Kṛṣṇa. I am not going to return today without slaying him. Go quickly, before he destroys our entire host.”
Kṛṣṇa urged on the horses and the great chariot thundered toward Karṇa. Seeing them approach, Śalya said, “Here at last comes Pāṇḍus mighty son, shooting snake-like arrows from the Gāṇḍīva with the force of a thunderbolt. It appears that he is making straight for you, O hero. Save our troops by killing him, if it lies in your power. You have badly hurt the virtuous king Yudhiṣṭhira and have afflicted all of the other Pāṇḍavas. Arjuna will be swelling with wrath and vengeance. You are the only archer in the world who can face him. It appears that a furious cobra is advancing toward you, its tongue quivering. All the Kauravas are looking to you for protection. O Karṇa, rescue them from the Arjuna ocean into which they are fast sinking.”
Śalya knew the time for the final battle between the two heroes had arrived. It was not time to discourage Karṇa. Śalya gazed at the dark-complexioned Kṛṣṇa as He skillfully drove Arjuna’s chariot through the Kauravas. He resembled a blackish cloud moving through the star-studded firmament. Behind Him Arjuna looked like a second black cloud, sending out streaks of brilliant lightning as he fired his arrows.
Karṇa was cheered. “O strong-armed one, it seems you have shaken off your fear of Arjuna. You are now speaking words that are agreeable to me. Today you will witness what I have learned from my martial teachers. I will soon slay these two warriors, along with the entire Pāṇḍava force. But even if I fail--and victory in battle is never certain--my fame will be preserved by my achieving a hero’s death.”
Karṇa roared and went over to Duryodhana. After saluting the Kaurava he said, “O King, I will now encounter Dhanañjaya. Close him in from all sides so that he cannot escape. Have the best of our fighters assail him with numerous weapons. A great task is upon me, and I will need whatever help you can muster.”
Duryodhana detailed Kṛpa, Aśvatthāmā, Dushashana, and his remaining brothers to support Karṇa. They rushed in a body at Arjuna, followed by thousands of elephants, chariots and horsemen.
Arjuna met his assailants with volleys of whistling arrows. Bhīma, blowing his conch and slapping his arms in joy, came to his side and targeted Duryodhana’s brothers with his deadly shafts. Little more than twenty princes remained, and they angrily attacked Bhīma with all their strength, desiring to avenge their brothers’ killings.
Dushashana, worked up to a fury, exhibited great prowess in the fight. He struck Bhīma with a dozen arrows with such force that the Pāṇḍava was stunned, momentarily losing his grip on his bow. Taking advantage of his lapse, Dushashana sent at him a shaft as brilliant as the sun worked with diamonds and other shining gems. As powerful as thunder, the arrow hit Bhīma on the chest and made him lose his senses. He dropped to his knees and held onto his standard pole for support.
Dushashana roared and blew his conch. His brothers all cheered and rained down shafts on the stricken Bhīma. They considered their mortal enemy slain. Within moments, however, Bhīma was again on his feet. He threw a dart at Dushashana, but the Kaurava cut it to pieces in mid-flight. Dushashana then struck Bhīma with another barbed arrow that cut him deeply.
Consumed by wrath, Bhīma thundered, “Strike me while you can, wretch. You have wounded me in this fight, but you will soon lay down your life. I will drink your life-blood. Feel now the force of my mace.”
Bhīma’s chariot hurtled toward Dushashana. He whirled his huge iron mace over his head and roared furiously. Dushashana threw a blazing dart at him, but Bhīma smashed it with his mace. In moments, he was upon Dushashana and he struck him a dreadful blow on his forehead. The prince was thrown twenty paces from his chariot. He thudded to the ground, his ornaments strewn, and lay stunned for some moments. Blood flowed from his head and his body shook.
Remembering his promise in the dice game, Bhīma leapt down from his chariot and approached his fallen foe. As Dushashana struggled to his feet, Bhīma struck him again and sent him flying. He dropped to the earth, gasping for breath. Bhīma stood over him and unsheathed his sword. Looking down at the semi-conscious prince, he remembered all the evils he had committed--in particular his unforgivable treatment of Draupadī, and of the Pāṇḍavas as they had left for the forest.
Bhīma seized his terrified foe by the arm and dragged him across the field. Dushashana tried to scramble free, kicking out frantically, but Bhīma twisted his arm till he screamed. The Pāṇḍava then brought his sword down in a flashing arc and cut off Dushashana’s arm. His voice rang out across the battlefield, “Here is the arm that seized Draupadī’s sanctified hair. Watch as I drink his blood.”
Dushashana writhed in agony as blood pumped from his shoulder. Bhīma kicked him onto his back and dropped onto him with his knees. The Pāṇḍava’s roars reverberated for miles, petrifying the warriors on both sides. He grasped the ivory hilt of his sword with both hands. Dushashana’s blood-smeared features contorted in terror. Bhīma smiled, relishing the long-awaited moment of revenge, then suddenly plunged his sword into Dushashana’s chest. As the Kaurava died screaming, Bhīma ripped him open and tore out his heart. He leaned down and, with cupped hands, drank his foaming blood as it flowed from his chest. Standing up again, he shouted, “The taste of this blood is sweeter than my mother’s milk, sweeter than honey, sweeter than pure water.” His face smeared with blood, Bhīma then looked down at Dushashana and said, “You are now safe since you are dead. There is nothing more I can do to you.”
All the Kauravas who saw Bhīma drinking Dushashana’s blood were horrified. Many of them fell to the earth out of fear. Others ran away, crying, “He is not human! Save us from Bhīma!”
Bhīma laughed. “O Dushashana, you were the root of the evils we suffered. Now let us hear you again joyfully defy us with the words, ‘O cow.’”
Turning toward Arjuna and Kṛṣṇa, Bhīma said, “O heroes, I have redeemed my pledge to kill Dushashana and drink his blood. Draupadī is avenged. Soon I will fulfill my other vow and crush Duryodhana. Then only will I know peace.”
Ten of Dushashana’s surviving brothers, shocked, rushed at Bhīma hoping to kill him. Bhīma quickly remounted his chariot and faced them with a smile. They hemmed him in and fired hundreds of barbed shafts at him. In swift succession Bhīma sent a gold-winged and razor-headed shaft at each prince, severing his head.
Karṇa’s mouth fell open. His weapons dropped to his side and he gazed at Bhīma with undisguised fear. Covered in blood and roaring, the Pāṇḍava seemed like a monstrous Rākṣasa. Surely he was possessed by an evil spirit of inestimable power.
Śalya, seeing Karṇa’s terrified expression, said, “Come, O hero, do not be depressed. This is the way of war. Death and destruction are its ever- present features. Do not be afraid. Duryodhana is grieving to see the death of Dushashana and his other brothers, and the rest of the Kauravas are fleeing. Duryodhana has given you the responsibility for this war. Exert yourself and bear the burden to the best of your ability.”
Urged on by Śalya, Karṇa caught hold of himself and shook off his confusion. It was true. There was no alternative now but to finish this fight. Arjuna was nearby. This was not the time to be confused.
Karṇa’s son, Vrishasena, having seen his father shaken and holding back in battle, blew his conch and confronted Arjuna. He fired a powerful volley of barbed arrows that covered both him and Kṛṣṇa. Fighting valiantly, he overpowered Nakula, who had come to Arjuna’s support, smashing his chariot. Bhīma shouted angrily to Arjuna, “I should kill this one immediately, but I will leave him for you. Dispatch him at once.”
As Karṇa looked on, Arjuna attacked Vrishasena. Blazing shafts sped toward the prince like hissing snakes breathing fire. Four of them slew his horses, while another dislodged his charioteer and threw him to the earth. As he tried to jump clear from his immobilized chariot, Arjuna sped a crescent-headed shaft at him that severed his head. The prince fell to the earth like a tree felled by lightning.
Karṇa cried out in agony. Grasping hold of his bow, he advanced toward Arjuna, who turned to meet him. The lustrous golden chariots of the two heroes, covered in tiger skins, looked like two suns meeting. Like Indra encountering Bali, they approached one another for combat while both armies looked on in awe. As they shot their arrows at one another, the other warriors roared with excitement--some praising Arjuna and others Karṇa. Both armies struck up martial music from thousands of drums and trumpets. Conches sounded and the battlefield was filled with a deafening din.
The celestials looked on from the canopy of the sky. Seeing the two god-like heroes raising their weapons and roaring, they could not decide which of them would emerge victorious. They were reminded of the ancient battle between Paraśurāma and Kartivirya. The Siddhas and Cāraṇas sounded their horns and showered flowers on the combatants. Indra blessed his son for victory, while Sūrya shone down on Karṇa, wishing him well.
As they closed on one another, the troops of both armies came to offer support. Dṛṣṭadyumna with all the Pāṇḍava forces surrounded Arjuna, while Duryodhana backed up Karṇa with the Kauravas. A fierce battle raged between the soldiers surrounding the two warriors, who circled one another, firing their first salvos.
Hanumān suddenly leapt from Arjuna’s banner and flew across to Karṇa’s banner, which was emblazoned with a jeweled elephant’s rope resembling Yamarāja’s noose. The enraged monkey tore at the rope with his nails and teeth, screaming fearfully all the while. The horses of both fighters reared and neighed angrily. Kṛṣṇa threw wrathful glances at Śalya, who returned them in a like manner.
Karṇa said, “O Śalya, my friend, the moment has arrived. Tell me truthfully--what will you do if I am slain by Pārtha?”
Śalya replied, “I will rush at Keśava and Dhanañjaya. What greater end is there for a kṣatriya than death at the edge of weapons?”
Arjuna asked Kṛṣṇa the same question and Kṛṣṇa said, “O Dhanañjaya, the sun may fall from the sky, the earth may shatter into a thousand fragments, fire may become cold, but Karṇa will not slay you. But if it should happen that you are slain, then know that the world’s end is near. Both Karṇa and Śalya will be sent to Yamarāja’s abode, along with the entire host of kṣatriyas.”
Arjuna smiled, “O Keśava, have no fear. Karṇa and Śalya are no match for me. As an elephant in the forest rends a tree, so I will crush Karṇa, his chariot, banners, horses, armor, bows and arrows. O Madhava, soon Karṇa’s wives will be widows. Surely they dreamt of coming evil last night. I cannot check my rage when I think of the cruel acts Karṇa has committed against us, especially how he abused Draupadī and the harsh language he used at that time. Today I will console Abhimanyu’s mother by repaying his enemies in their own coin. Today You too will be able to comfort Draupadī, from whose eyes fall large tears, remembering as she does the many woes she has suffered at the Kauravas’ hands.”
Both Arjuna and Karṇa then released shafts in volume. The sky was covered with flying arrows, creating a dark shadow over the battlefield. The two warriors countered each other’s attacks, like the east and west wind struggling with one another. As they struck down their opponent’s arrows, they seemed like the sun and moon emerging from clouds. Surrounded by their troops, they resembled Indra and Bali surrounded by the gods and Asuras. Their golden bows, constantly drawn to a circle, looked like the sun’s coronas and their arrows resembled sunbeams. Bent upon each other’s destruction, they stood like two suns risen for the destruction of the universe at the end of a yuga.
As they fought they simultaneously slew thousands of troops, elephants and horses. Other warriors contended together as the battle raged between the foremost heroes on both sides. Duryodhana, Kṛpa, Śakuni and Aśvatthāmā rained down arrows on Arjuna, trying to distract him and to give Karṇa the advantage, but Arjuna dexterously cut all their shafts and beat them back with his own. Forced to a distance by Arjuna’s searing arrows, Duryodhana and Aśvatthāmā came together to discuss their strategy.
Aśvatthāmā was still deeply affected by his father’s death and Vyāsadeva’s words. Climbing onto Duryodhana’s chariot he said, “O King, be pacified. There is no need to prolong this war. Enough men have died. Bhīṣma lies prostrate on the field and your own preceptor has been slain. Make peace with Yudhiṣṭhira, who always seeks the welfare of all beings. His brothers will accept his order. With the Pāṇḍavas as your allies, what can you not attain? How can anyone overpower Arjuna? What use is there in fighting him?”
Aśvatthāmā watched Karṇa and Arjuna fighting. Blazing arrows shot from the Gāṇḍīva and lit up the late afternoon sky. Arjuna’s chariot moved swiftly from side to side, baffling Karṇa’s attacks. Kṛṣṇa stood with the reins in His hands, His face covered with perspiration, as He shouted out commands to the horses and expertly maneuvered the chariot.
“In my view we should stop this war. Friendship with the Pāṇḍavas will surely be in your best interests. Stop this fight and let the remaining kings return home. O Monarch, I speak only as your friend and well-wisher. If you want, I can dissuade Karṇa from battle. Simply order me.”
Duryodhana thought for a while without replying. Finally, he shook his head. “O friend, you have had your say and I have considered your words. Now hear my thoughts on the matter. Even as the might of a storm is checked by Mount Meru, so will Arjuna’s prowess be checked by Karṇa. Let the fight continue. The Pāṇḍavas will never place confidence in me after the ills I have done them. You should not dissuade Karṇa. Arjuna is tired from his long day of fighting and will soon be overcome. O hero, go forward and fight our enemies. I am depending upon you as much as I am depending on Karṇa.”
Aśvatthāmā sighed. He slowly returned to his own chariot and rode back into the battle. Duryodhana was grief-stricken over his brothers’ deaths. He could hardly raise his weapons. He watched as Karṇa and Arjuna waged a fearful fight. It was so terrible that no other warriors would go near them. Anyone coming within the range of their arrows was instantly slain. Both men were lacerated by the other’s shafts, and blood flowed freely from their wounds. Kṛṣṇa and Śalya, with arrows protruding from their bodies, worked their horses and wheeled the chariots back and forth.
The Pāṇḍava troops shouted to Arjuna, “Kill Karṇa at once and dash Duryodhana’s hopes for the empire.” On the other side, the Kauravas encouraged Karṇa, “Quickly slay Arjuna and send the Pāṇḍavas back to the wilderness for good.”
Smiling and licking his lips, Arjuna sent hosts of arrows with various points--some shaped like half-moons, some like boar’s ears, and some like calf’s teeth. Karṇa responded with similar numbers of crescent and razor-headed shafts that cut down Arjuna’s arrows.
Suddenly invoking a powerful celestial weapon, Arjuna fired a shaft so brilliant that it lit up the sky in all directions. The heat from the missile ignited the dresses and chariots of the warriors nearby. It flew with a crackling sound resembling a forest of bamboos on fire. Karṇa, undaunted, at once released the Varuṇa weapon which immediately quenched Arjuna’s missile. Huge clouds appeared in the sky, sending torrents of rain that extinguished the fire Arjuna had created.
Arjuna applauded Karṇa and sent another celestial weapon against him, this one dispersing the clouds. He then disappeared from Karṇa’s view and invoked a weapon he had received from Indra. Thousands of glowing arrows adorned with vulture feathers flew from the Gāṇḍīva. They fell upon Karṇa’s chariot, covering him, Śalya, and his horses. Rolling his eyes in anger, Karṇa invoked the Bhārgava weapon, which cut off all the missiles emanating from the Gāṇḍīva. The power of the Bhārgava-astra spread out on the battlefield and afflicted the Pāṇḍava forces. Thousands fell dead, their bodies hacked to pieces.
Seeing Karṇa’s prowess, the Kauravas cheered and waved their weapons. Bhīma, infuriated, called out to Arjuna, “How have you allowed this irreligious scoundrel to kill so many of our men even before your eyes? The gods themselves were not able to vanquish you before now. How has Karṇa been able to show such power? O Savyasācin, think deeply on the ills meted out by this sinful man. Remember Draupadī’s suffering and Abhimanyu’s death. Do not be mild with this wretch. Slay him at once by any means possible.”
Kṛṣṇa also spoke urgently. “O brave warrior, you appear like one confounded. How are your weapons being baffled by Karṇa? Display the fierce energy which has been displayed yuga after yuga when you slew Rākṣasas and boon-proud Asuras. Take my razor-edged Sudarśanaa chakra and cut off Karṇa’s head without delay. You will thus restore to Yudhiṣṭhira this earth with all her towns, villages and wealth, and you will earn undying fame.”
Stirred to action, Arjuna gritted his teeth and glared at Karṇa. Taking out a shining golden shaft, he said, “Now, for the good of the world and with your permission, I will invoke the mighty Brahmā weapon.”
Kṛṣṇa replied, “So be it,” and Arjuna placed the arrow on his bow. Concentrating his mind, he invoked the brahmāstra and shot the arrow with all his strength. As the shaft blazed into the sky, thousands of other arrows came into being and launched themselves from the Gāṇḍīva. Resembling ferocious snakes with bared fangs, they soared across the battlefield toward Karṇa. Thousands upon thousands of gold-winged shafts spread out from Arjuna’s chariot and tore into the Kauravas. Darts, lances and battle-axes of frightening size and shape dropped onto Duryodhana’s troops.
Karṇa replied with another celestial weapon, which sent innumerable arrows back at Arjuna. They came down on him, hissing, like a downpour of rain. The shafts also flew out at the Pāṇḍava troops, killing them in large numbers.
Arjuna lost all patience. He struck Karṇa on the chest with a group of six powerful steel shafts, then twelve, then twenty, then fifty. At the same time, he slew four hundred elephants with their riders and one thousand horsemen and their horses. Then he slew eight thousand infantry.
The Kauravas called out to Karṇa, “O hero, save us! Check Pāṇḍu’s son! He is annihilating us.”
Exerting his utmost, Karṇa sent bloodsucking shafts in showers, completely covering Arjuna and simultaneously killing many Pañchālas and Pāṇḍava troops. Arjuna, invisible beneath the assault, whirled on the terrace of his chariot, striking down Karṇa’s shafts and shooting back another volley of fiery arrows.
As Arjuna and Karṇa attacked and counterattacked, exchanging all kinds of celestial weapons, Yudhiṣṭhira returned to the battlefield. His wounds tended and healed by mantras and herbs, he appeared again in brilliant golden armor like the full moon emerging from an eclipse. The Pāṇḍava forces cheered to see him as he stood by to witness the battle between Arjuna and Karṇa.
Arjuna fought in a frenzy, sending his shafts in immeasurable volumes. The Kauravas were unable to bear the force of his weapons and they fled in fear. Karṇa stood undaunted, resisting Arjuna’s attack with supreme skill. He pressed back all the troops supporting Arjuna, and the two men soon faced each other alone.
The Pāṇḍavas and Kauravas watched with astonishment from a distance as every kind of celestial missile was released and countered. Sometimes it seemed that Karṇa had the advantage; at other times Arjuna appeared to gain the upper hand. The warriors of both sides cheered and blew their conches, and from the sky the celestials applauded both warriors and beat their drums.
While that awful fight was raging, and the earth seemed to be oppressed by the weight of the weapons being fired, a Nāga named Aśvasena came to the battlefield. The celestial snake, son of Takṣakaḥ, bore Arjuna enmity for having slain his mother and brother in the Khandhava forest. Seeing his opportunity to gain revenge, he assumed the shape of an arrow and entered Karṇa’s quiver. With his mind fixed on Arjuna’s destruction, Aśvasena used his mystic power to inspire Karṇa with the thought of using the Nāgastra.
Karṇa saw that he could not overpower Arjuna by force of arms. It would take an inspired shot with a powerful celestial weapon. He then thought of the Nāgastra. If he could catch Arjuna off guard by cutting his bowstring and striking him at the same time with a cluster of shafts, he might just have time to kill him with the snake weapon before he recovered.
Following his plan, Karṇa fired shafts with blinding speed and temporarily stunned Arjuna, sundering his bowstring with a razor-headed arrow. He then took out a golden arrow from his quiver of celestial weapons. It seemed to jump into his hand and almost place itself on his bowstring. Karṇa took careful aim at Arjuna’s neck and drew his bow to its full. Unaware that Aśvasena had entered the arrow by yogic power, he shot it before Arjuna had a chance to restring his bow, calling out, “You are killed, O Pārtha.”
As the arrow was released the celestials cried out in sorrow. The shaft sped toward Arjuna with a terrible sound, seeming to divide the sky as a woman parts her hair in the middle. Kṛṣṇa saw the weapon approach and, leaning forward, pressed down the chariot with His foot. The horses were thrown to the ground and the chariot sank a cubit into the earth.
The snake arrow soared over Arjuna’s head and struck his diadem, sending it spinning off his head like the sun falling from the heavens. It fell to the earth smoking and shattered by the force of the Nāga weapon, which was enhanced by Aśvasena’s personal power. Its brilliant celestial gems lay scattered about the ground, resembling stars shining in the night sky.
Seeing that Kṛṣṇa had saved Arjuna from certain death, the gods cheered and showered Him with flowers. Arjuna, standing like a mountain bereft of its snowy summit, thanked and praised Kṛṣṇa, who told him what had happened. Arjuna quickly bound his loose hair with a white cloth and restrung the Gāṇḍīva to attack Karṇa.
Aśvasena, thwarted in his efforts to slay the Pāṇḍava, returned to Karṇa and said, “You did not know that I had entered your arrow. Know me to be Pārtha’s enemy. He killed my mother. Shoot me again and I will avenge her and achieve your desired end.”
Karṇa looked in surprise at that Nāga. With a shake of his head he replied, “I will never seek victory depending upon another’s strength, nor will I shoot the same arrow twice. I will slay Arjuna with my other weapons. Go now wherever you please.”
Aśvasena turned back toward Arjuna. Launching himself into the air, he again assumed the shape of an arrow. Arjuna was ready for him. He swiftly fired six crescent-headed shafts that cut Aśvasena to pieces and the Nāga fell to earth like a number of burning firebrands.
Kṛṣṇa jumped to the ground and with His own hands lifted Arjuna’s chariot out of the earth. He quickly remounted and urged on the horses, circling Karṇa as Arjuna aimed deadly shafts at his vital organs. Completely furious, Arjuna relentlessly assailed his foe from all sides as Kṛṣṇa drove the chariot. His arrows pierced Karṇa’s armor and broke it to pieces. Arjuna struck off his helmet and headdress, leaving the wounded Karṇa standing like a mountain sending forth streams of red lava.
Seeing his foe stupefied and inactive, his bow falling from his grasp, Arjuna honored the codes of warfare and stopped his attack. Kṛṣṇa said in surprise, “Why, O Pārtha, are you making such a mistake? The wise never spare their enemies no matter how weak they are. Learned men gain great merit by destroying wicked foes, even when those foes are distressed. Lose no time in killing him. When he recovers, he will again present you a difficult task.”
Responding to Kṛṣṇa’s urging, Arjuna fired arrows fitted with calf’s-tooth heads. They thudded into Karṇa’s powerful frame. With blood running from his numerous wounds, he resembled a blossoming ashoka tree. Quickly recovering his senses, Karṇa took up his bow and discharged volumes of shafts at Arjuna and Kṛṣṇa. Arjuna countered his arrows in mid-flight and continued to attack his unprotected enemy.
In his plight, Karṇa thought of again using the Bhārgava weapon, inspired with Brahmā’s power. No one could resist such a mighty weapon, and it had already destroyed numberless Pāṇḍava troops. Karṇa thought it would be the only way he could hope to distract Arjuna and gain the space he needed to deal with his wounds and put on new armor. He began to chant the sacred incantations to invoke the weapon but found he could not remember them. He tried repeatedly to recite the mantras he knew so well, but they would not come to his mind. Sadly, Karṇa recalled his teacher’s curse: “When your life depends on your most powerful weapon, you will not be able to summon it.”
Unable to invoke the Bhārgava-astra, Karṇa turned to repelling Arjuna’s shafts with ordinary arrows. As he stood releasing shafts by the hundreds, he saw a black shadowy figure appear near his chariot. Karṇa recognized it as Kala, Time personified, who said, “The earth is devouring your chariot wheel.”
Karṇa looked down and saw that his chariot was sinking into the earth. Despite Śalya’s strenuous efforts, it could not be pulled out. Karṇa lamented, rebuking virtue. “It is said that you, O virtue, always protect the virtuous. I have always carefully observed my duties. How am I now being destroyed? Why are all my efforts in this battle thwarted?”
As he gave vent to his anguish, Arjuna attacked him more vigorously. Cursing virtue again and again, Karṇa fought back desperately. Arjuna’s arrows pierced him deeply and he shook like a tall tree in a storm. Worked up to a frenzy, Karṇa released his arrows in a continuous stream. They flew off his bow like streaks of fire and struck down Arjuna’s shafts. Some of them penterated Arjuna’s defenses and pierced both him and Kṛṣṇa.
Seeing Karṇa still fighting furiously even though disadvantaged and badly wounded, Kṛṣṇa said, “Discharge more powerful weapons, Arjuna. See how Karṇa remains bent on victory, rendering your arrows useless and striking us with all his power.”
Arjuna recited mantras to invoke the Brahmā weapon, but as he did so Karṇa sent an arrow that cut apart his bowstring. In a moment, Arjuna restrung his bow, but Karṇa immediately cut it again. Arjuna strung it for a second time, and Karṇa again cut it. They repeated this twelve more times, Arjuna stringing his bow quickly and Karṇa cutting the string.
Marveling at Arjuna’s lightness of hand, Karṇa kept up his fierce assault. By the sheer force of his attack he temporarily stunned his opponent. Taking the opportunity, he leapt from his chariot and seized hold of the sunken wheel. He heaved at it with all his might. With his massive shoulders and heavily muscled arms, he resembled a sal tree with two huge trunks. Pulling with all his power, Karṇa shook the earth; it seemed to rise up with all its lands, mountains and seas. But the wheel would not come out.
Karṇa wept in frustration. Seeing Arjuna near him he called, “O Pārtha, wait for a moment while I extract my wheel. Do not cherish thoughts entertained only by cowards. Brave and pious persons never aim their arrows at those who are without weapons. You are the bravest and most pious of all warriors. Excuse me for a moment, standing helpless as I am. I will soon stand again for battle. Remembering virtue and the codes of warfare, hold off your attack until then.”
Hearing his agonized plea, Kṛṣṇa smiled and replied, “It is fortunate indeed that you remember virtue, O Karṇa. Men in distress almost always censure Providence, forgetting their own evil deeds. Where, O Karṇa, was your virtue when Draupadī was brought weeping into the Kuru assembly? Where was it when Yudhiṣṭhira was robbed of his kingdom? When he asked for it to be returned, after spending his promised thirteen years in exile, did your virtue suggest that it be returned? Was it virtue that conspired to set fire to the wax house in Vāraṇāvata? Did virtue urge you to laughingly say to Draupadī, “O lady, choose another husband”? Was it that same virtue that ordered Dushashana to strip her naked? When you and six other brave heroes surrounded the boy Abhimanyu, did virtue then enter your mind?”
Karṇa’s head fell and he made no reply. He struggled frantically to pull up his wheel, as Kṛṣṇa continued. “If it was virtue acting on all these occasions, then do not waste your time summoning it now. You wish us to practice piety today, but you will not escape with your life. After vanquishing you and all their other enemies, the virtuous Pāṇḍavas will regain their kingdom.”
Karṇa could not respond. He trembled with anger. His face was covered with perspiration as he wrestled with his wheel. Kṛṣṇa moved the chariot away and said, “O Arjuna, strike Karṇa down at once with a celestial weapon.”
Arjuna, reminded of Karṇa’s many sins, was furious. Heat seemed to emanate from his pores. He raised the Gāṇḍīva and invoked the Āgneyastra. Karṇa, unable to lift the chariot wheel, leapt back onto his chariot. Grasping his bow, he countered Arjuna’s weapon with the Varuṇastra. In desperation he continued fighting, firing his powerful arrows by the hundreds. He took up a huge steel arrow worked with gold and fitted with a long, barbed point. As he discharged it from his drawn bow, uttering mantras all the while, the four quarters were suddenly shrouded with darkness. Violent winds blew and the celestials uttered cries of lamentation. The Pāṇḍavas were gripped with apprehension and they prayed to Kṛṣṇa.
Karṇa’s arrow flew off his bow like a thunderbolt. It struck Arjuna full on the chest and he reeled. Pierced even through his impenetrable armor, he shook violently and dropped the Gāṇḍīva.
Karṇa again jumped down from his chariot and seized hold of the sunken wheel. He struggled furiously, but to no avail. As Karṇa roared in anger, Arjuna regained his senses and took out an anjalika arrow. Placing it upon his bow, he invested it with the celestial power of Indra’s Vajra weapon. Kṛṣṇa moved closer to Karṇa and said, “Arjuna, release this arrow at once and cut off your enemy’s head before he remounts his chariot.”
Arjuna drew the Gāṇḍīva back to his ear and took careful aim. All the warriors on the battlefield froze. The skies seemed to shake and the ṛṣis watching from the skies cried out, “All peace to the universe!”
As he aimed the arrow Arjuna said, “If I have ever practiced penance, if I have ever respected my elders and listened to their wise counsel, then let this arrow kill Karṇa.”
Arjuna let the arrow go and it flew from his bow shining like the sun. It lit up the field as it streaked toward Karṇa. The terrific shaft struck him as he still grappled with his chariot wheel. Catching him on his broad and powerful neck, it severed his head and threw it to the earth. As the handsome head fell to the ground, like the crimson setting sun going behind the western hills, his trunk collapsed, gushing streams of blood. Then, before everyone’s eyes, a bright light came out of Karṇa’s body and rose upward, entering the sun.
The Pāṇḍavas cheered, beat drums and sounded trumpets. Arjuna and Kṛṣṇa, filled with joy, blew their conches. They were surrounded by warriors who praised them and danced on the field in happiness. They gazed in wonder at Karṇa’s fallen body, which resembled an extinguished fire or a mountain struck down by the bolt of heaven.
Śalya slowly drove Karṇa’s chariot, bereft of its hero, away from the field. Seeing that sorrowful sight, the Kauravas fell about in grief, their hopes dashed. They fled in fear, looking back repeatedly at Arjuna’s blazing standard.
Duryodhana was overwhelmed with grief. Tears flowed from his eyes and he sighed again and again. He and the other Kuru chiefs went over to Karṇa and stood around him. The Pāṇḍavas joined them to offer their last respects to the fallen hero.
Bhīma roared like a thundercloud. He danced about slapping his arms in joy. Leaping high and circling in the air, he laughed and shouted out his battle cry. The Pāṇḍava troops embraced one another with tears in their eyes. Now the war was over. Duryodhana’s greatest hope had just been shattered.
2.26: Śalya Leads the Kauravas
Less than two hours remained until sunset. Yudhiṣṭhira decided to press home his advantage. Seeing his enemies disarrayed, he ordered his troops to attack. Inspired by Karṇa’s death, they fell upon the remaining Kauravas with loud shouts. The Kuru army lost all heart for the fight and ran in all directions like bulls with broken horns. They looked around in fear, expecting Arjuna or Bhīma to pursue them at any moment. It seemed to them that those two Pāṇḍavas were everywhere today.
Then Duryodhana pulled himself together and came forward for battle. Breathing hard, his face covered in tears, he said to his charioteer, “Take me into the fight. I will avenge my friend’s death. Kuntī’s son will no more be able to resist me than the ocean can go beyond its shore. Killing Arjuna and Govinda, the haughty Vṛkodara, and my other enemies, I will repay my debt to Karṇa.”
The Kauravas were rallied when they saw their leader riding into battle. Twenty-five thousand warriors came together to face the Pāṇḍava forces. Bhīma, observing the rules of fair combat, got down from his chariot to contend with the foot soldiers. Roaring out their battle cries and not fearing for their lives, they rushed upon Kuntī’s son with raised swords and maces.
Bhīma laughed. Whirling his great iron mace, Shaikya, he moved among the Kauravas like a hawk. Heads, arms and legs flew about as he destroyed the troops. Soon, almost all of the twenty-five thousand were slain and the remainder had fled. Encountering the remnant of Duryodhana’s brothers, he quickly dispatched all of them to Death’s abode, either by smashing them with his mace or severing their heads with razor-faced shafts.
In a rage Duryodhana rushed against the Pāṇḍavas, discharging fiery arrows on all sides. He was immediately surrounded by thousands of chariot fighters who sent great showers of arrows at him. Countering the attack, the Kaurava prince slew the chariot-warriors in large numbers. He quickly struck down hundreds of fighters and sent up a great roar. Seeing his troops fleeing in fear of Bhīma, he called out, “Where are you going, brave warriors? I see no place on earth, nor indeed the three worlds, where the Pāṇḍavas will not find and kill you if you flee. Their army is now quite small. If we stand together we will win. Follow your duties and fight. Death or glory are your only choices now. Slay your enemies, or be slain by them and thus attain heaven.”
Despite Duryodhana’s exhortations, his troops continued to flee. Śalya came up to the king and said, “O King, look at this dreadful scene. The earth is covered with the carcasses and mutilated limbs of slain warriors. Your warriors are falling over each other in fear. They can hardly move across the blood-soaked ground and are crying out for a protector. Retreat now, O Bharata hero. The sun is setting. Remember that you are the root of all these evils. Go back to your camp and give your men some respite.”
Duryodhana looked across at Śalya seated on Karṇa’s empty chariot. He was seized again with grief and he cried out, “O Karṇa! O my friend!”
The sun-god, shedding his dying rays on his fallen son’s body, went in grief to the western hills. Both armies withdrew from the fight, and the gods and ṛṣis returned to their abodes. As the warriors moved through the twilight, they looked upon Karṇa, who seemed to light up the field even in death. He looked like a mass of pure gold or like a fire quenched by the shower of Arjuna’s arrows. The earth seemed to send forth cries of ‘Alas!’ and ‘Oh!’
But Yudhiṣṭhira was happy. At last Karṇa had been slain. The Pāṇḍava king felt as if a great weight had been lifted from him. As he stood on the field surrounded by his brothers, Kṛṣṇa came before him and said, “By good fortune the suta’s son lies dead, while you and your heroic brothers are all well. Arjuna has fulfilled his promise and the earth has drunk Karṇa’s blood. That wretch of a man who laughed at Draupadī has received his reward. Surely your chaste queen will rejoice upon hearing this news. Soon she will sit by your side as you assume rulership over this prosperous earth.”
Yudhiṣṭhira tearfully embraced Kṛṣṇa. “O Keśava, it is no wonder that we have been successful with You as our support. O almighty one, the wise Ṛṣi Nārada has informed me of Your true identity, as well as that of my brother Arjuna. You two heroes are always engaged in maintaining virtue in the world.”
Yudhiṣṭhira climbed onto his chariot and rode back to camp. He saw Karṇa’s body lying on the field, lit up by a thousand oil lamps and surrounded by despondent Kaurava troops. The next morning they would perform his funeral rites, having left him for his final night on a hero’s bed. Yudhiṣṭhira looked at him again and again. He could hardly believe his eyes. He said, “By Your favor, dear Kṛṣṇa, we have achieved our object. Surely Duryodhana will now give up all hopes for victory and even life itself. For thirteen long years we have suffered and known only anxiety. Tonight we will sleep peacefully, freed of our burden.”
Arjuna and Kṛṣṇa went away from the battlefield like the sun and moon going down in the sky. They blew their conches, filling the four quarters with the tremendous blasts. Gandharvas, Cāraṇas and Siddhas offered them praise and worship as they headed back to their camp, following in Yudhiṣṭhira’s track like the gods follow Indra into Amarāvatī.
* * *
All the Kauravas left the field in despair. Kṛpa, Kṛtavarmā and Aśvatthāmā headed the troops as they returned to camp. Duryodhana was crying. No one could console him and he fell to the ground weeping. The other Kuru leaders entered the royal tent and sat silently around him. All of them shed tears as they watched the king give vent to his sorrow. He rolled about on the ground repeatedly crying out, “O Karṇa, my friend!”
Gradually, Duryodhana’s anger overcame his grief and he rose to his feet, his eyes coppery with rage. Taking his place on the throne, he wiped his face with his hands and said in a cold voice, “We cannot let this atrocity go unavenged. Karṇa, the best of warriors, was slain mercilessly by Arjuna as he stood helpless on the ground. How can we tolerate it? Selecting another commander for our forces, we will rush against the sinful Pāṇḍavas and wreak revenge. We have already almost destroyed their army, and they are weak from days of fighting. They have abandoned virtue and will thus lose all their power. Surely we will soon crush them. We owe it to Karṇa to either slay them to a man or to lay down our own lives, joining Karṇa in a hero’s unending sleep.”
Duryodhana trailed off as he thought of Karṇa laying on the battlefield. His head fell and he covered his face with his hands. He wept silently for some time. The anguished prince could not come to terms with his friend’s death. He had never dared think that Arjuna might one day slay Karṇa. From the day he had first seen him, he had lived with the expectation that Karṇa would be Arjuna’s destruction. That hope was now in ruins. Duryodhana gazed vacantly upwards, tears streaking down his dark face. Was Arjuna truly invincible? Perhaps. But the war could not be stopped now. Karṇa had to be avenged. It was that or death. No other choice was possible.
As Duryodhana gained control of himself, Kṛpa said gently, “O great king, consider carefully your best course now. Seventeen days of battle have passed and so many men have been killed. All your brothers are dead. We have still to see signs of weakness or laxity in Arjuna. He ranges about the field like a massive four-tusked elephant crushing our forces at will. Now he has killed Karṇa and, before that, Jayadratha, even though our whole army tried to protect him. Who is there among your troops who could face him, O Bharata? Who also could face the enraged Bhīma? He and Sātyaki are causing a carnage among our troops that makes our hairs stand on end.”
Kṛpa looked earnestly at the Kaurava prince, who sat looking straight ahead and saying nothing. Kṛpa began to cry, but he continued. “You have committed so many sins against the Pāṇḍavas for which we are all now reaping the fruits. You mustered this huge army just to achieve your ends. Now it has been destroyed. We are actually in danger. We are weaker than the Pāṇḍavas. Policy dictates that peace be sought by diplomacy. Yudhiṣṭhira is ever-merciful and will surely accept peace on mutually agreeable terms. You will not lose your position as king, for neither Yudhiṣṭhira nor Arjuna nor indeed Kṛṣṇa will disobey your father’s orders.”
Kṛpa implored Duryodhana to make peace. He wept to think of all the kings and warriors who had lost their lives for Duryodhana’s cause. His voice trembled as he concluded, “I counsel that we stop the hostilities, O hero. This is in your best interests. I do not say it out of fear or with any malicious motive. Do not disregard my words. If you act otherwise, you will recall what I have said when you yourself are on the verge of death.”
Duryodhana remained silent. Pale with grief, he screwed up his eyes and shook violently. He sobbed, unable to reply for some minutes. Finally he composed himself with difficulty and said, “You have doubtlessly spoken as a friend. Indeed, you have done for me everything a friend could do--going against my enemies and risking your life for my good. I know that your counsel is well-meant and beneficial, but it does not please me. Like medicine to a man on the brink of death, your words are quite unpalatable. In my opinion, Yudhiṣṭhira will not trust me even if I go to him and sue for peace. I have cheated him and inflicted him with all kinds of evil. So too have I pained Arjuna and Kṛṣṇa. Since hearing of Abhimanyu’s death, Keśava has passed His nights in sorrow. We have offended Him. How can He forgive us now? Peace is out of the question. The war will end only when the Kauravas or the Pāṇḍavas are dead. Things have already gone too far. The enmity is irreversible.”
Thinking of Draupadī, he continued, “The Pañchāla princess, I have heard, is practicing austere vows to bring about my destruction. She sleeps on the bare ground and accepts only one meal a day. Subhadrā, casting away all pride, serves her like a waiting maid. O Kṛpa, everything is on fire. It cannot be extinguished. How can I, having shone rays like the sun on the heads of all kings, walk behind Yudhiṣṭhira? I could never accept his sovereignty. After ruling this earth as its undisputed emperor, I cannot possibly face a miserable life of servitude.”
The Kaurava made it clear that battle was the only choice. If he was slain, then he would at least retain his fame and go to the higher regions. Withdrawing now would mark him a coward and lead to ignominy and degradation.
Duryodhana looked at Karṇa’s seat. Fighting back his grief, he concluded his speech in resolute tones. “No kṣatriya desires a death at home in bed. It must come in battle, or his fame diminishes and dies. I have performed many a sacrifice and followed my duties faithfully. I do not fear death. Let me fight and win glory or ascend the path trodden by heroes who never retreat in battle. That path has become crowded with joyful kings, hurrying along after throwing down their bodies in this war. How can I give up the fight after seeing such noble fighters give their all on my behalf? I could not enjoy the kingdom with their blood on my hands unless I had exerted myself fully to avenge them. I will attain victory or heaven. It cannot be otherwise.”
The warriors applauded Duryodhana’s valorous speech. Shaking off their despair, they resolved to fight to the finish. They decided to select a new commander in the morning, then rose from their seats and retired to their beds for the night.
* * *
After hearing of Bhīma’s systematic slaughter of her sons, and especially of his brutal killing of Dushashana, Gāndhārī was distraught. Since the war began she had absorbed herself in the practice of penance, praying that the hostilities might come to a quick end. Perhaps Duryodhana would come to his senses as he saw the futility of his cause. How was it possible for him to overpower the virtuous Pāṇḍavas aided by Kṛṣṇa? But Gāndhārī knew of his obstinacy. It was improbable that he would end the war until every man in his army lay dead.
Although the Kuru queen understood that her sons were dying due to their own sinfulness, as a mother she could not tolerate it. Each evening she would receive news of the day’s events and her heart would be wracked with pain. All the great Kuru heroes were being slaughtered one after another. When she heard that Bhīma had slain almost all of her sons, she felt she could take no more. She had to do something. Her long practice of asceticism had given her great mystic power. If she went to the battlefield, she could use that power to make her last surviving sons invincible. Simply by glancing at them she could make their bodies invulnerable. Deciding to leave at once, she ordered her servants to prepare a chariot.
Travelling swiftly during the seventeenth day of the war, she finally arrived on the field at sunset. When she entered the ladies tent she received the terrible news that all her sons were now dead, with the exception of Duryodhana alone. The old queen dropped to the ground in a swoon. Her servants quickly raised her and sat her upon a large couch, sprinkling her face with cool water. Coming back to her senses she wept for some time. Finally she composed herself and asked that Duryodhana be brought before her. At least she could save him. Maybe destiny would allow her to keep one son. Surely he was the cause of the war, but now that Karṇa was dead perhaps he would change. No doubt Śakuni would also soon be slain. It had been in their company that Duryodhana had hatched out all his evil schemes. Alone he might be a different person.
Within a short while the prince entered his mother’s tent and bowed before her, his face drawn and darkened by grief. She blessed him and spoke consolingly for some time. Then she said, “Dear son, I had hoped that this war might end before all my sons were killed. Alas, it seems that that hope will be thwarted. But still you live. Dear son, I wish to help you. By my ascetic power I can make your body invincible. Come before me tomorrow morning naked. I will then bestow my power upon you.”
Duryodhana went out of the tent feeling encouraged. It was surely providential that his mother had come. Perhaps he would at last be able to overpower his rampant foes. He headed quickly through the darkness back towards his quarters.
The following morning before sunrise, Duryodhana took his bath and went back to his mother’s tent. As he entered the outer section of the large tent, he took off his clothes and was about to go in when he saw Kṛṣṇa coming out. The Yādava had heard that Gāndhārī had arrived, and He had gone to pay His respects. Seeing Duryodhana standing naked before Him, He opened His eyes wide in surprise. “What is this, O hero? Why do I see you standing here without any clothes?”
Duryodhana explained that he was about to see his mother, and Kṛṣṇa replied, “Have you not learned any culture from your elders, O Bharata? How can any civilized man go naked before his own mother? I am surprised. At least cover your loins.”
Duryodhana looked down at his naked body in embarrassment. Kṛṣṇa was right. He could not stand naked before his mother. As Kṛṣṇa left the tent he wrapped a cloth around his loins and went in to see the queen. When she heard him enter, she asked him to stand immediately before her. Then she lifted the cloth that covered her eyes and looked straight at him. Duryodhana felt an energy suffusing him as his mother glanced over his body, but when Gāndhārī saw his cloth she was shocked. “Why, dear child, did you not follow my directions? I asked you to come naked. You have covered your loins and, although the rest of your body will be hard like iron, your loins and thighs will remain vulnerable to attack, for I did not see those parts.”
Gāndhārī had summoned all her power before glancing over her son. She felt unable to do it a second time. When Duryodhana told her what had happened--how he had met Kṛṣṇa as he came into the tent--the queen sighed. She slowly replaced the cloth over her eyes. Her last hope had been destroyed. Surely her son would die at Bhīma’s hands, as that Pāṇḍava had vowed so long ago in the Kuru assembly. Realizing that she could do nothing against all-powerful destiny, Gāndhārī finally smiled. It was Kṛṣṇa again. As long as He was protecting the Pāṇḍavas, the Kauravas’ cause was hopeless. The queen dismissed her son. She had best return to Hastināpura to be with her grief-stricken husband. The war would soon be over without a doubt.
* * *
As the sun rose on the eighteenth morning, the Kauravas, after cremating Karṇa and the other slain warriors, mounted their chariots and came together. Their grief had given way to the numbness born from seeing so much death and destruction. Almost mechanically they prepared for battle. Duryodhana looked around at the remaining fighters. Which of them should be the commander-in-chief for what would likely be the final day of the war? Kṛpa was the obvious choice, but he was clearly reluctant to continue the fight. The prince thought of Aśvatthāmā. As the preceptor’s son, he was another possibility. But when Duryodhana asked him, he replied, “I think you should choose Śalya. In birth, prowess, energy, fame, and every other accomplishment he is superior to us all. Renouncing his attachment for his kinsmen he has joined our side and fought relentlessly. Let him lead our troops, like Skanda leading the celestials.”
Applauding Aśvatthāmā’s words, the other warriors surrounded Śalya and shouted, “Victory! Victory!” Duryodhana got down from his chariot and approached him with folded hands, saying, “O hero, once again I come to seek your favor. Become our commander. With you at our head we will strike terror into our foes. There are none among us as brave or powerful as you. O foremost of kings, take command of these forces, even as Kārttikeya commands the armies of the gods.”
Śalya, having abandoned any hope of coming out of the battle alive, accepted Duryodhana’s proposal. Folding his palms he replied, “O mighty-armed king, I will face the Pāṇḍavas without fear. Forming a mighty array, I shall defeat their assembled armies. Let us lose no time in going forth again for battle.”
Duryodhana cheered Śalya and had him installed as commander, personally pouring the sanctified water over his head. The Kauravas sent up lion-like roars and beat thousands of drums. Inspired with new hope, they moved toward the battlefield, spreading out into an eagle-shaped formation at Śalya’s command. Ten thousand elephants, eleven thousand charioteers, the same number of horsemen, and five hundred thousand infantry remained of the original four million Kaurava warriors. They fanned out and marched resolutely toward the battlefield, all of them determined to fight to the death.
Yudhiṣṭhira heard the Kauravas’ joyous cries. Receiving the news that Śalya had been appointed commander, he said, “O Keśava, what do You think should be done? I depend fully on Your advice.”
Kṛṣṇa appeared thoughtful. “I know Śalya as the foremost fighter. O King, he should not be underestimated. Empowered by the post of commander, he will be no less powerful than Bhīṣma, Droṇa, or even Karṇa. Still, I think you can kill him. I do not see another who will be able to kill him. Go forth, O hero, and slay him like Śakra slew the demon Shambara. Now that you have crossed the fathomless Kaurava ocean, do not sink into the small pond of Śalya. Display in battle all your kṣatriya strength and your ascetic power. Śalya’s time has surely come.”
Yudhiṣṭhira mounted his chariot, thinking on Kṛṣṇa’s words. It must be as He had said. Yudhiṣṭhira recalled his promise to kill Śalya. It was fitting that the Madras monarch should meet his end at the hands of his dear friend and nephew. It would be a hard fight. Both were past masters at spear fighting, and they had already met for several fierce encounters. The next one would be their last.
With Dṛṣṭadyumna at their head, the Pāṇḍava troops marched out for battle. Soon the fight began. Seeing Yudhiṣṭhira’s white umbrella in the distance, Śalya urged his charioteer to make straight for him. He was soon confronted by a large body of chariot fighters, who showered him with arrows and lances. The Madras king stood his ground and responded with volleys of gold-winged shafts that struck down dozens of those warriors.
Karṇa’s two remaining sons, Satyasena and Citrasena, charged at Nakula like a pair of tigers attacking an elephant in the forest. They covered him with keen arrows and sundered his bow, but the Pāṇḍava quickly strung another bow and returned the attack. Laughing all the while, he killed Satyasena’s four horses and struck Citrasena on the chest with three whetted shafts.
Satyasena jumped aboard his brother’s chariot and the two princes stood side by side, shooting their arrows at Nakula. Unshaken, Nakula hurled a bright dart, steeped in oil and resembling a dreadful snake. It hit Satyasena and penetrated his heart. His brother roared in anger and increased his attack on Nakula, killing his horses and smashing his chariot.
Seeing his father careless and under attack, Nakula’s son Sutasoma came to his aid. He took him onto his own chariot and Nakula carried on fighting. After releasing a large number of shafts that baffled his opponent, the Pāṇḍava let go an arrow with a razor-sharp head shaped like a half moon. It struck Citrasena in the neck and severed his head, sending it flying to the ground. The prince dropped forward from his chariot and fell to the earth like a hewn tree.
Witnessing Nakula killing Karṇa’s two sons, the Kaurava soldiers retreated. Śalya rallied them. He stood fearlessly in battle, faced by numbers of Pāṇḍava warriors. Headed by Kṛpa and Kṛtavarmā, the Kauravas rushed at the Pāṇḍavas with loud cries. They were met by solid lines of troops led by Dṛṣṭadyumna and Sātyaki. The two armies clashed with a deafening clamor. The air was filled with smoke from fiery weapons released by powerful chariot-warriors, as well as with the stench of blood.
Fighting his way through the dense Pāṇḍava ranks, Śalya approached Yudhiṣṭhira. He assailed him with a downpour of arrows, but Yudhiṣṭhira checked them all with his own. As the leading warriors on both sides contended with one another, Yudhiṣṭhira and Śalya fought a violent duel. They exchanged arrows that collided in mid-air with showers of sparks. Appearing like Indra and Bali fighting for the sovereignty of the universe, the two mighty heroes shot blazing shafts off their bows that resembled thunderbolts.
Showing his intention to slay Śalya, Yudhiṣṭhira suddenly released a broad-headed arrow that cut down his enemy’s standard. Śalya, raging, replied with thousands of straight shafts that struck Yudhiṣṭhira on every part of his body. The arrows completely covered the Pāṇḍava king as well as his horses, chariot and driver. Yudhiṣṭhira’s brothers came to his assistance and rained down long, barbed arrows on Śalya. Backed by Kṛpa and Aśvatthāmā, the Madras king put up a savage fight. The Pāṇḍavas had never before seen him so ferocious. His arrows found the weak points of his assailants, who fell back from his chariot, stunned by the force of his attack.
Śalya resisted the combined assault of Yudhiṣṭhira, Sātyaki, Bhīma, and the two sons of his sister Mādrī. Duryodhana came to his support, with Kṛtavarmā by his side. For a long time an awful battle raged between the mighty heroes, who angrily sought each other’s destruction.
In the meantime, Arjuna had been surrounded by the remaining warriors of the Trigarta army. The Pāṇḍava slew them mercilessly, and they cried out in distress. Hearing their cries, Aśvatthāmā raced over to support them. After failing in his attempt to make Duryodhana stop the war, he had resolved to fight to the end. His father and almost all his friends had been slain. Even if peace were made, what was there left to live for anyway? Careless of Vyāsadeva’s cautionary words, Droṇa’s son attacked Arjuna with all his power. The two godbrothers, forgetting their former friendship, attacked one another like a couple of maddened bulls attempting to gore the other with their horns. The sky was filled with their arrows, and the battle between them was wonderful even to the celestials.
Gaining the upper hand, Arjuna slew his opponent’s four horses and charioteer. Aśvatthāmā stood fearlessly on his immobile chariot, continuing to resist Arjuna’s attack. Even as he fought with the Pāṇḍava, he rained his shafts on other Pāṇḍava soldiers and slew hundreds.
Suddenly Suratha, a powerful Pāṇḍava chariot-fighter, bore down upon Aśvatthāmā with a great shout. Aśvatthāmā jumped to the ground with his bow in hand. He placed a keen shaft on its string and drew it back to his ear. Shot with all his strength, the arrow went right through Suratha’s chest. It split his heart and emerged from his back, entering the earth.
Aśvatthāmā quickly ran over and got up onto his slain foe’s chariot. Many other Kaurava fighters, led by Śakuni and Uluka, raced to his assistance. A fierce battle then ensued between Arjuna and the Kaurava warriors, who were backed by thousands of troops.
Not far from Aśvatthāmā, Śalya continued to fight with frightful force. Inspired by thoughts of a glorious victory, or death and elevation to the celestial regions, he encountered all the great Pāṇḍava heroes. No one could shake him as he stood on his chariot blazing like the sun-god. His arrows went out in endless lines in all directions. Thousands of brave Pāṇḍava fighters lost their lives as they tried to approach him in battle.
Remembering his vow and Kṛṣṇa’s words, Yudhiṣṭhira pressed forward toward Śalya. The Madras monarch, standing near Yudhiṣṭhira, looked like the planet Saturn near the moon. Both men blew their conches, creating a roaring sound that shook the atmosphere. Gazing at each other with burning eyes, they yelled out their challenges and counter- challenges. They shrouded each other with waves of arrows. Wounded all over, they appeared like a kinshuka and a shalmali tree in full bloom.
The soldiers watching the battle could not decide who would win--whether Yudhiṣṭhira would gain the earth after slaying Śalya; or if Śalya, after killing the Pāṇḍava, would bestow the earth upon Duryodhana.
Śalya sent steel shafts that tore into Yudhiṣṭhira’s leather hand protectors and cut his bow in two. Yudhiṣṭhira spun round in his chariot and took up another bow, stringing it as he turned again to face his antagonist. He sent a number of swift arrows that killed Śalya’s four horses and his charioteer. The Pāṇḍava king then covered Śalya with hundreds of searing shafts that rocked him as he stood on his stationary chariot. Aśvatthāmā sped over to rescue the afflicted Madras king, taking him onto his own chariot.
In moments, Duryodhana, observing the fight, had another great chariot brought for Śalya. Mounting that chariot, Śalya charged at Yudhiṣṭhira, his chariot’s huge iron wheels resounding like thunder. Flanked by other warriors, he rushed forward into the flights of gold-winged arrows Yudhiṣṭhira was shooting. Bhīma, Sātyaki and the twins also challenged him and the Kaurava heroes backing him.
The fight between Yudhiṣṭhira and Śalya was like a contest between young tigers in the jungle fighting for a piece of meat. They circled and feinted with speed and grace. Elated with the pride of prowess, they wounded each other with their arrows. Śalya simultaneously attacked Yudhiṣṭhira and Bhīma, cutting off the armor of both men. With well-aimed arrows, he slew Yudhiṣṭhira’s four horses and killed his charioteer. Having stunned the king and his brother, he then began slaughtering the Pāṇḍava forces.
Bhīma, beside himself with rage, shot long shafts that killed Śalya’s horses and stopped him in his tracks. He sent another hundred razor-faced arrows that cut apart his armor. Śalya took up a burnished steel sword and a shield adorned with a thousand stars. Leaping down from his chariot, he rushed across the field toward Yudhiṣṭhira like a hawk swooping on its prey. Bhīma took careful aim and, with a broad-headed shaft, cut Śalya’s sword in two. With another twenty arrows he broke apart his shield. Overjoyed, he roared out his battle cry. The other Pāṇḍavas laughed and blew their milk-white conches.
Seeing Śalya without armor and on foot, deprived of his weapons, the Kauravas were filled with apprehension. Yudhiṣṭhira, remaining on his horseless chariot, took up a large golden dart. It had a handle worked with coral and was set with gems. The Pāṇḍava raised the effulgent dart and gazed angrily at Śalya, seeming to burn him with his glance. Uttering mantras and hurling the weapon with all his force, he cried out, “You are killed!”
The dart flew toward Śalya like a meteor dropping from the sky. Śalya cried out and tried to catch the dart as it fell upon him, but it slipped through his hands and struck him on the chest. It passed through him without obstruction and entered the earth. Blood shot out from Śalya’s mouth, nose and ears. His arms flew up and he fell to the earth like a mountain summit smashed by a thunderbolt. Like a dear wife rising to embrace her beloved spouse, the earth seemed to rise to meet him as he fell. That king, having enjoyed the earth for so long, finally fell into her embrace and died.
Yudhiṣṭhira and his brothers sent up triumphant shouts, while the Kauravas cried out in anguish. Dispirited, they fled from the fight. The Pāṇḍava troops, seizing their advantage, rushed with raised weapons at their despondent foes.
Śalya’s younger brother charged Yudhiṣṭhira. He struck the Pāṇḍava with a cluster of barbed arrows that pierced him. Not minding the attack, Yudhiṣṭhira quickly raised his bow and responded with razor-faced shafts that cut apart his attacker’s bow. With one shaft he cut down his standard and with another arrow he severed his head from his body. Following the path taken by his elder brother, the handsome prince fell headlong from his chariot.
Duryodhana looked on in despair. All around him his troops were running in terror, leaving him alone to fight the Pāṇḍavas. Gripped by a wild rage, he fought in a frenzy to the limit of his power. His arrows flew like blazing comets in all directions. No one could approach him, and he single-handedly resisted all the great Pāṇḍava heroes.
Kṛtavarmā, Kṛpa and Aśvatthāmā, seeing now Duryodhana’s brave stand against their foes, came quickly to his support. The four Kaurava warriors checked the Pāṇḍava army like the shore resisting the ocean. In a last desperate attempt to win the day, they pressed toward Yudhiṣṭhira, who still stood upon his immobilized chariot. Seeing this, Bhīma, Sātyaki, Dṛṣṭadyumna, and Draupadī’s five sons surrounded the Pāṇḍava king. An exchange then took place between those warriors and the four Kauravas that filled the heavens with fiery arrows.
Śalya’s army, the Madrakas, rushed back into the fight with loud shouts. They cried out, “Where is Yudhiṣṭhira? Where are Dṛṣṭadyumna and Bhīma? We will slay them at once!” As those warriors charged into the fray, they were met by volleys of shafts discharged by the Pāṇḍavas. Cut to pieces, their chariots smashed and horses slain, they fell by the hundreds. As rows of brave fighters dropped to the ground, those following them stumbled and fell over their chariots. Horses screamed as their drivers pulled hard, trying to swerve clear of the melee. Fiery shafts rained relentlessly down. Well-muscled arms and heads graced with golden helmets dropped to the ground by the thousands.
Arjuna, having annihilated the remnants of the Trigarta army along with Śakuni’s mountain warriors, turned his arrows on the Madrakas. With his unfailing and irresistible shafts he soon slew two thousand elephants with their riders. The Madrakas uttered cries of terror as Arjuna rode into their midst. Ruthlessly cut down by the Pāṇḍava and his brothers, they took to their heels, only to find other Pāṇḍava heroes standing in front of them. They cried out to Duryodhana for protection.
Śakuni, hearing their piteous cries, came up to Duryodhana’s side and said, “Arjuna has killed my entire force of warriors. Now he is slaughtering the brave Madrakas. O King, rally our forces and go to their assistance at once.”
Duryodhana looked vacantly at his old uncle. His mind was sunk in dejection. Few of his forces remained. Those not slain were fleeing. He had shouted himself hoarse trying to bring them back to the fight. The war could surely not last much longer. Duryodhana looked around at the desolate scene. The Pāṇḍava troops were chasing his fleeing soldiers with shouts of joy. Only a handful of his bravest fighters--Kṛpa, Aśvatthāmā, Kṛtavarmā, about a dozen of his brothers--still survived, with less than twenty thousand troops to support them.
The prince said in a tearful voice, “O Uncle, I repeatedly hear Vidura’s words in my mind. Only out of ignorance did I ignore his wise counsel. Just see the course of destiny. Our once proud army has practically been annihilated. Bhīma and Arjuna have wrought havoc among our men. What should be done? I cannot return from this war defeated. Victory or death are my only choices. Keeping the duties of a kṣatriya uppermost in our minds, let us go forward into the fight one final time. Put forth all your power, O son of Suvala. Maybe we will yet gain the day.”
Ordering their charioteers to urge on their horses, the two Kauravas charged into the fray, roaring out their battle cries. But the Pāṇḍavas were ready. With victory in sight they stood firm against their desperate foes, releasing waves of deadly shafts that cut them down. Duryodhana looked on in horror as almost all of his remaining warriors were slaughtered.
Seeing the Kauravas practically defeated, Kṛṣṇa said, “O Dhanañjaya, this war is virtually over. Millions of warriors on both sides have been slain. Our forces are now superior to the Kauravas. All that is needed to secure our victory is Duryodhana’s death. Without killing him, there will be no end to these hostilities, for he will never admit defeat. O Pārtha, exert yourself to kill Duryodhana and end this ghastly conflict.”
Arjuna looked at Kṛṣṇa who, although wounded, shone with splendor as he held the horses’ reins. “O Madhava, you have spoken the truth. The evil-minded son of Dhṛtarāṣṭra will fight to the last man. It seems that none will escape death. Bhīma has slain all of Duryodhana’s brothers. Surely, in keeping with his promise, he will also kill Duryodhana himself. There stands Susharma, my old antagonist. His time has come. O Keśava, take my chariot toward that king.”
Arjuna pointed to Susharma, who stood releasing flaming shafts at the Pāṇḍava troops. Kṛṣṇa urged on his horses and in moments Arjuna stood before Susharma, who was supported by four Trigarta princes. They immediately attacked Arjuna in a body, striking him with hundreds of arrows. Moving with grace and skill, Arjuna assailed the princes like a hungry lion attacking deer. With razor-headed shafts he slew all four, then turned on Susharma. He struck the monarch on the chest with three powerful shafts, then killed his horses with four more. With another broad-faced arrow he cut down his standard. Then, with a long golden shaft inspired by mantras, he pierced Susharma through the heart.
As Susharma toppled from his chariot, Arjuna charged into the troops backing him. Nearby Bhīma was roaring and whirling his mace as he rushed against Duryodhana. The Kaurava resisted him valiantly, shooting thousands of arrows and holding him at bay. A short distance away, Sātyaki fought Kṛtavarmā while Dṛṣṭadyumna and the twins fought Kṛpa and Aśvatthāmā.
While those heroes engaged in combat, Sahadeva saw Śakuni assailing the Pāṇḍava army. Remembering his vow, the Pāṇḍava broke away from his fight with Kṛpa. He rushed toward Śakuni, shouting out a challenge. As Śakuni turned to face him, Sahadeva discharged fearful arrows that flew at the speed of the wind. He immediately cut Śakuni’s bow apart and broke his standard. Undaunted, Śakuni took up another bow and fought back with great energy, striking his antagonist with a volley of powerful shafts.
Sahadeva expertly warded off Śakuni’s attack and replied with sixty keen arrows that hit Śakuni on every part of his body. Sahadeva followed that with another eighty shafts that sent Śakuni spinning on the terrace of his chariot, his bow flying from his hand.
Uluka, seeing his father’s plight, rushed at Sahadeva, releasing dozens of barbed arrows. In a moment, Sahadeva spun round to face Uluka. He discharged a crescent-headed shaft that screamed through the air and beheaded Uluka. The huge-bodied warrior fell from his chariot, his head rolling away with staring eyes and earrings that gleamed from the dusty ground.
Śakuni cried out and tears sprung to his eyes. He remembered Vidura’s wise words. It had always been folly to nurture enmity with the Pāṇḍavas. The Suvala monarch, still under Sahadeva’s attack, reflected sorrowfully on his life as he fought back. His original anger with Bhīṣma for giving his sister to the blind Dhṛtarāṣṭra was long forgotten. After befriending Duryodhana, he had become implicated in more and more treachery, even though in his heart he knew it would one day have fearful consequences. Yet he had been driven by anger and attachment, always ignoring the truth, and hoping that by his cunning he could somehow destroy the Pāṇḍavas. Now he would face the results. The fire of the Pāṇḍavas’ anger had blazed up into a conflagration. His entire army--his own son--had been killed before his eyes.
Remembering his duty as a warrior, Śakuni gazed wrathfully at Sahadeva. Perhaps he could at least avenge his son’s death before dying himself. Śakuni raised his bow and placed a formidable looking shaft on its string but, before he could release it, Sahadeva cut apart his bow with three razor-faced arrows.
Roaring in anger, Śakuni picked up a scimitar and hurled it at his foe. Sahadeva immediately cut the spinning sword to pieces before it reached him. As Sahadeva countered the scimitar, Śakuni let go a dreadful mace that flew at him with a loud, rushing sound. Sahadeva struck the mace with a cluster of shafts that smashed it to pieces. Śakuni then hurled a dart at him, which the Pāṇḍava also checked.
Seeing his weapons falling uselessly to earth like the hopes of an impious man, Śakuni became afraid. Dispirited, he fled from the fight. Sahadeva, remembering his vow to slay Śakuni, gave chase. He shouted at him to turn back and fight, but Śakuni did not listen.
Racing up to Śakuni’s side, Sahadeva called, “Why are you abandoning your duty, O fool? Do you recall how you rejoiced in the Kuru assembly, O wicked man? You and the wretched Duryodhana are the only survivors of those who ridiculed us and insulted our queen. But not for long. Receive now the fruits of your evil acts. Stand and face me in battle. I will cut off your head like a man plucking a ripe fruit.”
Goaded by Sahadeva, Śakuni pulled up his chariot and turned to fight. He took up a lance adorned with gold and jewels, but it was cut to pieces even as he raised it over his shoulder. Sahadeva sent searing, razor-faced arrows that tore off Śakuni’s arms. Then, with an arrow as bright as fire, he cut off his head.
As Śakuni fell, blood spurting from his trunk, the Kauravas wailed. Duryodhana cried out and dropped his bow. All the other warriors around him threw down their weapons and ran. Only a handful of Kaurava soldiers survived, and they found themselves surrounded by the Pāṇḍava forces. Unable to escape, they stood to fight but were soon killed.
Seeing himself alone, Duryodhana turned and fled from the battlefield. Jumping from his chariot, he dashed into the surrounding woods and ran until he reached a large lake. Bewildered, and with a desire to save his life, he entered the water. As he sank into the lake, keeping his life airs circulating within himself by yoga practice, the Kaurava prince used his mystic power to solidify the water around his body.
After Duryodhana’s departure, only Kṛpa, Aśvatthāmā and Kṛtavarmā remained. With their leader gone, they too decided to flee. They raced from the battlefield. As they fled, they met Vyāsadeva. The ṛṣi told them where to find Duryodhana and then disappeared. The three warriors went to the lake and saw Duryodhana’s upper garment nearby. Realizing he had entered the lake, they fell to the ground wailing. “Alas, the king did not know that we survived. He has entered this lake in despair without knowing that all was not yet lost.”
They got to their feet slowly and returned to their chariots, deciding to make their way to the Kuru camp. Reaching the outpost they found the guards grieving. The three men carried on into the camp where they saw similar scenes. They heard the loud wails of the royal ladies in their tents, which sounded like the crying of flocks of ospreys. The ladies were being led out by their guards and placed on chariots, ready to return to the city. With their clothes and hair in disarray, their ornaments cast aside, they were a piteous sight. Many men were setting out for Hastināpura, unable to stay any longer in the desolate encampment. They rushed here and there in their haste to leave, fearful that the Pāṇḍavas might arrive at any moment to finish them off.
Unable to tolerate the mournful atmosphere, the three warriors returned to Duryodhana’s hiding place. Kṛpa stood by the edge of the lake and called aloud, “O King, rise up and face your enemies. Just see how your men have given way to grief in your absence. The Pāṇḍavas are ranging about the field looking for you. Their armies have been destroyed. Fight with them and gain control of the earth or, slain by them, rise to heaven. Why do you tarry here? Aśvatthāmā, Kṛtavarmā and I are here to help you. Surely you will win if you continue the fight.”
Duryodhana heard Kṛpa as he sat at the bottom of the lake. He called out, “By good fortune have you three heroes survived, O foremost of men. Just let me rest here for awhile and then I will surely wage war again. You are also tired and should rest. Refreshed and renewed, we may proceed toward the battle. O mighty-armed ones, you are all noble and your devotion to me is great, but it is not now the proper time to display your power. Let us rest tonight. In the morning I will join you for the fight. Do not doubt it.”
Aśvatthāmā replied, “Rise up, O King; may you fare well. We shall yet defeat the enemy. I swear by all my holy acts, by all my gifts, and by truth itself, that I will slay the remaining Pāṇḍavas. Indeed, if this night passes without my killing them, I will not again enjoy the pleasure of performing sacrifices, a pleasure enjoyed by all pious men. O King, I will not loosen my armor until they are killed. This is certain.”
As Aśvatthāmā called out to Duryodhana, a number of hunters arrived at the lake. Worn out with the day’s hunting, they wanted to slake their thirst. Seeing the three powerful kṣatriyas, they hid in the bushes and listened. They then understood that Duryodhana was hidden in the lake. Undetected by the three Kauravas, they listened as the warriors tried without success to convince Duryodhana to come out and resume the fight.
The hunters had observed the battle fought between the world’s kṣatriyas. They knew that the Pāṇḍavas would reward them richly if they told them of Duryodhana’s whereabouts. Getting up quietly, they slipped away and went toward the Pāṇḍavas’ camp to see Yudhiṣṭhira.
(Continued ...)
(My humble salutations to the lotus feet of Brahmasree Krishna Dharma and Bramhasree Manmatha Dutt and I am most grateful to Swamyjis, Philosophic Scholars and Ascetic Org. for the collection of this great and wornderful Epic of the world. )
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