And so the Kauravas did not lower their weapons even when the sun set and the battlefield was covered with darkness. To help warriors see in the dark, Duryodhana ordered some soldiers to drop their weapons and carry lamps instead.
Soon, there were lamps along the entire length of the Kaurava army. The light of the lamps bounced off the golden armours and gleaming weapons of Karna and Drona and Duryodhana and Kripa. They looked magnificent. It seemed as if stars had descended on earth and were moving menacingly towards the Pandavas determined to annihilate them. The exhausted Pandava army was taken by surprise and suffered many casualties.
Then Arjuna organized his army to carry lamps as well so that they too could see in the darkness and fight back. Seven lamps were placed on each elephant, two on each horse and ten on each chariot. Thus illuminated, the Pandavas fought back, refusing to let darkness overwhelm them.
On this night, Drona slew his enemy, Drupada, father-in-law of the Pandavas, as well as Virata, the king of Matsya, who had sheltered the Pandavas in the final year of their exile.
Watching Drona take advantage of the darkness, Krishna turned to Bhima and said, ‘Summon your son, Ghatotkacha, born of the Rakshasa queen, Hidimbi. A Rakshasa is invincible at night. Let him and his hordes fight for the Pandava army is exhausted.’
Bhima did as told and Ghatotkacha came when summoned. At night, he looked tall and ferocious with his long, sharp, razor-like teeth and claw-like nails. He had the Kaurava forces running for cover in no time. Anticipating this move from the Pandavas, Drona had summoned another Rakshasa to support the Kauravas. His name was Alamvusha.
Alamvusha, tall as a mountain, challenged Ghatotkacha for a duel. They rushed at each other like wild elephants. Such was the force with which they struck each other that it produced sparks of fire. The two armies watched in the flickering light of lamps the two demons fight on behalf of the two human armies. In the end, Ghatotkacha prevailed as he managed to choke Alamvusha to death.
A desperate Duryodhana then turned to Karna. ‘Ghatotkacha fills our army with fear. We must destroy him. I beg you to use the spear Indra gave you against this Rakshasa. We have no other choice.’
Karna had planned to use the spear against Arjuna, but compelled by Duryodhana, he hurled it at Ghatotkacha. Ghatotkacha screamed as the spear ripped open his chest. Such was his cry that all the elephants and horses on the battlefield stood still. He then kept tottering, swaying back and forth, like a tree in the forest that is about to fall to the floor. He did not want to die before looking at his father one last time.
Krishna shouted, ‘Don’t fall on the Pandava side. Increase your size and fall on the Kaurava side. Crush as many of your father’s enemy as you can. Serve your father thus even in death.’ Ghatotkacha nodded his head. He stretched himself until his head touched the sky. He then threw himself on the Kaurava army crushing hundreds of soldiers, horses, chariots and elephants under him. Bhima howled as he saw his son fall. Duryodhana was happy to see Bhima cry, but the happiness lasted only until he was told of the vast numbers of Kaurava soldiers Ghatotkacha had claimed in death.
Only Krishna was happy with this incident. With Indra’s spear gone, Arjuna had little to fear from Karna. And the death of Ghatotkacha would have the same impact on Bhima as the death of Abhimanyu had on Arjuna—now, the battle was personal.
The battle continued through the night until Arjuna realized that half his soldiers were asleep or so drowsy that they had begun letting themselves be killed or had taken to killing each other, too tired to distinguish friend from foe. He directed all his troops towards Drona forcing him to leave the battlefield. With Drona driven out, the fighting stopped. The soldiers, with no energy to return to their battle camps, collapsed wherever they stood and slept along with their horses and elephants, amidst the debris of broken chariots and dead warriors.
There are Rakshasas who fight for the Pandavas and Rakshasas who fight for the Kauravas. Thus the Rakshasas, though feared for their strength, and disdained for their barbarism, are accepted as allies.
That Krishna is an opportunist is reinforced in this tale when he encourages Bhima’s demon son to inflict maximum damage on the enemy while dying.
The night battle where exhausted soldiers have lamps in one hand and weapons in the other is a metaphor for the extent of human rage. When angry, all rules collapse, all good sense vanishes and the beast of vengeance takes over.
85
A teacher beheaded
All eyes now turned to Drona. How does one defeat a great warrior like him, the Pandavas wondered. Krishna said, ‘All his motivation comes from his obsessive love for his son, Ashwatthama. Perhaps we must take away that motivation or at least let him believe that the cause of all his actions no longer exists. Let us tell him, Ashwatthama is dead.’
All the Pandavas around Drona kept telling each other, ‘Ashwatthama is dead.’
A distressed Drona refused to believe them. He turned desperately towards Yudhishtira, the most honest man in the world, and asked, ‘Is that true?’
Yudhishtira turned to Krishna. Krishna smiled a compassionate smile, for he could hear the unspoken arguments that Yudhishitra was having with himself: Was truth so important? What if a lie could end a war? Wherefrom came his desire to tell the truth? To look good or to do good? With a heavy heart, Yudhishtira decided to speak his first lie, a little white lie. ‘Yes, Ashwatthama is dead,’ he said, and then, as an afterthought, he murmured, ‘Maybe it was an elephant, or maybe it was a man.’ But in the din of the battle the devastated father did not hear the murmur.
Yes, an elephant called Ashwatthama had died, killed by Bhima on Krishna’s instructions. Yudhishtira knew this very well and still he told his teacher that he was not sure if the Ashwatthama referred to by his warriors was a man or an animal.
This plan of Krishna’s had the desired effect. A shaken Drona lost the will to fight. He even lost the will to live. He stopped his chariot, alighted, put down his weapon and sat down in deep meditation ready to die.
‘Kill him. Kill him,’ shouted Krishna. But Drona was a teacher, a Brahman. To kill him was the greatest crime in all of Aryavarta. The soldiers hesitated. Krishna shouted, ‘He was merely the son of a Brahman. But he lived as a Kshatriya for wealth and power and vengeance. Let him die as a Kshatriya on the battlefield.’
Thus instructed by Krishna, Dhrishtadyumna, son of Drupada, commander of the Pandava forces, raised his sword and in one sweep severed the neck of Drona.
When Ashwatthama saw the beheading of his father who had laid down his weapons, he was so outraged that he released the Narayana-astra. It was a dreadful missile that spat out fire and covered the sky in the form of dark serpents with giant fangs. ‘It will destroy us all,’ said Yudhishtira.
Krishna said, ‘Do not fear. Just drop your weapons and alight from your chariots. Do not fight it. Just salute it respectfully. It will not harm you.’
All the soldiers fighting for the Pandavas did as told, all except Bhima, who in his rashness, rushed towards the son of Drona on his chariot, mouthing profanities, whirling his mace. The Narayana-astra enveloped him with fire and the dark, fanged serpents would have surely destroyed him had Arjuna and Krishna not rushed to his rescue. They forced him down from his running chariot and pulled the mace from his hand. Bhima was at first furious at being stopped. But then he saw how the Narayana-astra withdrew. It would not harm anyone who was not armed and hostile.
Ashwatthama was outraged at the failure of his dreaded missile. ‘Shoot it again,’ said Duryodhana, impressed by the power of this weapon. ‘Avenge your father’s death.’
‘I can’t,’ said Ashwatthama. ‘The Narayana-astra can be used only once. If I use it again, it will turn against me.’
In Vedic India, it was important to uphold varna-dharma and ashrama-dharma. The former meant sticking to the profession of the father. The latter meant behaving as per one’s stage in life. Drona breaks the varna-dharma by living like a warrior rather than a pri
est. Bhishma breaks the ashrama-dharma by not getting married and enabling his father to shun retirement. Thus, for all their nobility, the two generals of the Kaurava army are responsible for the breakdown of dharma as much as Duryodhana.
Yudhishtira’s chariot never touches the ground until he utters the only lie of his life—that he is not sure if the Ashwatthama killed is a man or an elephant. This act of Yudhishtira makes him human. Brings him down to earth, literally.
Since Drona is a Brahman, by killing him, Dhrishtadyumna bears the burden of Brahma-hatya-paap, the sin of killing a priest, a terrible sin in the Hindu world. A person who does so loses his right to be a member of society. In mythology, only Shiva is allowed to perform this act. The epic equates Dhrishtadyumna with Shiva. Attempts are made to downplay this event. It is said that by the time Dhrishtadyumna’s sword severed Drona’s neck, his life had already left his body. So there was no killing. Just the decapitation of a lifeless body.
86
A fight between brothers
Drona was dead. Who would lead the Kauravas now? ‘It can only be the charioteer’s son,’ said Dhritarashtra to Gandhari as Sanjay concluded the narration of the fifteenth day of battle.
Kunti who sat behind the couple overheard this. She could not bear the idea that her sons would now be fighting their own elder brother. She had to stop this. The younger five would not understand, but the elder one would—he was wiser and perhaps, kinder. In the dead of the night, Kunti left the palace in Hastina-puri and made her way to the battlefield. Dawn was yet to break when she reached the Kaurava battle camp in Kurukshetra. She saw Karna meditating in preparation for the war. He looked strange, stripped of his magical earrings and armour; his ears still bled and his chest was still raw. This was her son, her firstborn, the one who was abandoned at birth. With her heart filled with love and trepidation, she addressed him for the first time in her life. ‘Son,’ she said.
Karna raised his head and recognized Kunti. Glances were exchanged between mother and son. A lifetime of unspoken emotions gushed forth. Karna bowed. ‘The charioteer’s son salutes the mother of the Pandavas,’ he said. The sarcasm in his voice was like a poisoned barb.
‘Forgive me,’ said Kunti, tears in her eyes.
‘Forgive me,’ said Karna, apologizing for his pettiness. She was after all barely a child when she had borne him. ‘What can I do for you? It is almost daybreak. I always grant the wish made to me at this time of the day.’ He paused. It dawned on him why she had chosen to meet him and acknowledge him as son so late in his life. ‘Perhaps that is what you came here for. A boon? That’s what you want, isn’t it? You came here not to give love to your outcast firstborn but to collect charity from the charitable charioteer’s son.’
The truth was grating. Kunti nodded her head shamefacedly. ‘I do not want brother to fight brother,’ she said, ‘Abandon the Kauravas, take your rightful place among your family, and let there be peace.’
Karna pulled his shoulders back, took a deep breath and declared rather forcefully, ‘Peace for whom? Them or me? I will never abandon Duryodhana. Ask for anything else but that.’
‘I do not want my sons to die.’
‘Who do you refer to? The ones born after marriage, or the one born before?’ Kunti wanted to shout, ‘All,’ but a despondent Karna continued, ‘The world knows you as mother of five sons. At the end of the war, I promise you that you will still have five sons, including one great archer, either Arjuna or me.’ Karna turned away from Kunti. He did not want her to see his pain. It was time for war. Dawn broke. Conch-shells could be heard. Kunti slipped away unnoticed, wanting to bless Karna but resisting the urge. How could she wish him victory against the sons of Pandu?
Duryodhana approached and, amidst great fanfare and cheering, declared Karna the leader of the Kaurava armies. To mark the occasion, Duryodhana appointed Shalya as Karna’s charioteer and with excitement told his dear friend, ‘All your life, the kings of the earth called you a charioteer who is supposed to serve warriors and kings. Now, ride into battle as a warrior with a king serving you as a charioteer.’
This made Karna happy but soon he realized having Shalya as charioteer was not a good idea. Rather than energizing him with encouraging words, as charioteers are expected to, Shalya kept praising Arjuna and demoralizing Karna.
Karna noticed that Krishna steered Arjuna’s chariot away from his own, avoiding a confrontation with him. So Karna decided to focus his energies on the other Pandava brothers. He defeated Nakula and Sahadeva in a duel. He then defeated Bhima and finally defeated Yudhishtira in a duel. He could have killed each one of them but, in keeping with the vow he made to Kunti, he let them go alive. The only son of Kunti he would kill was Arjuna.
Before he set them free, Karna wanted to hug the Pandava brothers and tell them that they were his younger brothers, that they shared the same mother. But Karna restrained himself. Instead, he said, ‘I give you your life in charity.’
Karna’s words seared the soul of the Pandava brothers. They realized they owed their lives to a man they hated, one who they considered nothing more than an ambitious servant.
The encounter with Karna so shattered Yudhishtira that he lost all will to fight; he had to be carried away from the battlefield by Nakula and Sahadeva. Arjuna saw this from afar and out of concern told Krishna, ‘Take me back to the battle camp. I think my elder brother is hurt.’
‘No, do not worry about him. I think we should focus on Karna. He must be tired after fighting your four brothers. Look, there is Bhima doing his duty and fighting the enemy. You must too.’
‘No, no. I insist. Let us return to the battle camp. I must see my brother,’ said Arjuna. So Krishna turned the chariot around and made his way to Yudhishtira’s tent.
On seeing Arjuna, Yudhishtira beamed. ‘You have returned alive before sunset. Karna must be dead. Tell me, how did you kill that wretched charioteer’s son? Tell me, how did you kill that venomous friend of Duryodhana’s?’
Arjuna replied, ‘No, Karna is not dead. I just came here to check if all is well with you.’
Hearing this, Yudhishtira lost his temper, ‘You coward. You come here to check on me instead of fighting and killing Karna. How could you? Are you telling me that Bhima is all alone on the battlefield fighting the Kauravas while you are here in my tent displaying false concern for me? I think you came in here because you are afraid to face the man who is perhaps a greater archer than you. I think you are afraid of Karna, despite having the great Gandiva as your bow and the great Krishna as your charioteer and the great Hanuman atop your chariot. I am ashamed of you. Fie on you, on your bow Gandiva. Give your bow to someone more worthy so that he may kill Karna.’
Arjuna’s blood boiled as he heard Yudhishtira speak so. ‘How dare you speak to me like that? How dare you insult my bow like that? How dare you suggest that someone else wield my bow?’ In fury, hissing like an angry snake, he picked up a sword and rushed towards Yudhishtira, intent on striking him. Nakula and Sahadeva threw themselves on Yudhishtira to protect him from Arjuna’s wrath. Krishna caught hold of Arjuna’s hand and pulled him back. Everyone in the battle camp was shocked to see this—never before had they seen the Pandava brothers fight so.
‘What are you doing, Arjuna?’ asked Krishna. Then turning to Yudhishtira, he said, ‘What are you doing, Yudhishtira? Has the war taken away all good sense? Rather than fighting your enemy, you are now turning against each other? What is happening?’
Krishna then told the brothers the story of Valaka. A hunter called Valaka shot an arrow at a creature he saw drinking water from a forest pond. Only after he released the arrow did he realize that the creature was blind. He regretted releasing the arrow but it was too late—the arrow hit the target and the blind animal was dead. As Valaka approached the animal, full of remorse, flowers fell upon him from the sky and the Devas appeared before him to thank him. They said, ‘This blind beast you feel sorry for is actually a demon that was planning to destroy the world. By kil
ling him you have saved the world. ‘Thus,’ said Krishna, ‘sometimes an action we think is wrong turns out to be right.’
Krishna then told the brothers the story of Kaushika. Kaushika was a sage. One day, he saw four people running into his hermitage and hiding behind a tree. Pursuing them was a fierce-looking man, who asked Kaushika if he had seen four men running before him. Kaushika, who always spoke the truth, nodded his head and pointed to their hiding place. The fierce-looking man was actually a dacoit and he found the four men he was chasing behind the tree. He killed them and took away their belongings. For this act, Kaushika was dragged to hell. ‘Thus,’ said Krishna, ‘sometimes an action we think is right turns out to be wrong.’
The reason for telling these stories was to calm the angry brothers and to tell them that sometimes things are not what they seem. Arjuna should not assume that words spoken under stressful situations were real. His brother was just angry and did not mean to insult him or his bow. One should have faith in one’s friends and family and not let one harsh word break the bond of trust.
Hearing Krishna’s words, Arjuna calmed down. ‘But I had taken the vow of killing anyone who insulted my bow. I must keep my promise.’
Krishna said, ‘You can kill your brother physically by harming his body or emotionally by insulting him. Why don’t you choose the second option?’
Arjuna took that option and insulted Yudhishtira as a weakling who had gambled away his fortune and his wife. Then Arjuna said, ‘Oh, when a younger brother insults his elder brother, he is not fit to live. I feel like killing myself.’
Jaya: An Illustrated Retelling of the Mahabharata Page 25