for Abhimanyu. Yudhishthira could see
that his men had lost all zest for battle.
“We must not grieve,” he told them, “we should rather
follow Abhimanyu’s great example.
Today, he slaughtered countless Kauravas.
That hero is in heaven; if we stand firm,
we shall defeat our enemies for sure.”
But privately, Yudhishthira was crushed
by grief for his brave and beloved nephew.
He sat in his tent, weeping bitter tears,
blaming himself entirely. “Oh, Abhimanyu!
It was for me that you risked everything.
For me you battled with such bravery.
Eager for victory, I urged you on.
How shall I face Arjuna? How will Subhadra
bear to live without her precious son?
And Krishna—how will he find consolation
now that his nephew, little more than a child,
has left the earth?”
At this point, Vyasa
appeared, to give comfort. For Yudhishthira
in the face of this catastrophe,
it was as if the fact of death had struck him
for the first time. “What does it mean,” he said,
that men are born, are nourished by their mothers,
nurtured with care, have rich experience,
learn the ways of human intercourse,
love, create, take pleasure in the world,
acquire a warrior’s skills, respect dharma—
what does it mean that such men can ride out
in the morning, courageous, full of hope,
and by evening are mere carrion
for crows to feast on? Why? What is death?”
“Death takes everything that lives,” said Vyasa,
“there is no exception.” And he told
the story of the lady Death herself,
and how Brahma, creator of the worlds,
sent her out to achieve his purposes,
so his created worlds would not become
overburdened. “For creatures—even for gods—
death is part of life, that is the law,
and everything that lives carries the germ
of its own destruction. Understanding this,
a wise person does not grieve, Yudhishthira.”
Yudhishthira took comfort from this story,
and Vyasa told him many other tales
of kings whose sons were taken away by Death.
Vyasa said to him, “Abhimanyu
lived his life fully, although he was so young.
He will be in heaven; and those who taste heaven
never prefer this world to that bliss.”
Arjuna had won a splendid victory
over the forces that had sworn to kill him,
but at nightfall, riding back with Krishna,
he was seized with a dreadful premonition.
The camp was silent; no one greeted them.
He had heard of Drona’s wheel deployment
and, knowing that Abhimanyu had not learned
how to exit it, he hoped and prayed
that his brave son had not been entrapped.
On every side, he noticed ashen faces.
Hearing the truth, he thought he would die of grief.
He sank down, sighing, face awash with tears.
“Krishna, Subhadra will not survive this news.
Oh, my beloved boy, I remember
how I and your mother held you in our arms.
My glorious son, the joy of all who knew you,
witty, courageous, generous and kind—
if I will never see your face again
how can I live? In that dreadful wheel,
standing alone, you must have thought that soon
your father would arrive to rescue you.
But no, you would have focused on the fight
and nothing else—a hero to the end.”
Arjuna was gripped by deep despair.
Krishna gently spoke to him. “My friend,
bear this with fortitude. You are not the first,
nor will you be the last to lose a loved one.
Abhimanyu has gone to the realm for those
who meet death courageously in battle,
with a cheerful heart. We are warriors;
for us, this is how it has always been.”
“How did it happen?” asked Arjuna, grim-faced.
“Tell me exactly. How could Abhimanyu
die with my great brothers to protect him?
Sons of Pandu, sons of Drupada,
what were you doing!? Do you carry weapons
merely as ornaments? Did you cowards watch
while my brave boy fought overwhelming odds?”
When he heard the facts, grief turned to rage
at wicked Jayadratha. He swore an oath:
“Before darkness falls tomorrow night,
I will cut off Jayadratha’s head,
unless he comes and begs on his knees for mercy.
If I do not, may I never enter heaven,
but may I meet the hideous fate of those
who kill their parents, who cuckold their teachers,
defile women, betray the innocent trust
of those who depend on them. If I do not,
if, tomorrow night, Jayadratha
still struts the earth, breathing our common air,
I shall enter a blazing fire and die!”
In the opposing camp, the Kauravas
picked up a chilling sound on the night breeze,
faint at first, then swelling ever louder,
a sound to shake the world to its foundations:
Devadatta, Arjuna’s great conch,
sounding out a challenge and a threat,
followed by furious shouts from the Pandavas.
Jayadratha knew it was meant for him.
Gripped by fear, he had a sense that death
was rushing to meet him. “Ah! What can I do?
Shall I escape at once, fly home to Sindhu?”
“Take heart, calm your fear,” said Duryodhana.
“Who could harm you, when you will be surrounded
by our bravest, most accomplished warriors?
And you yourself are a tiger among fighters.”
His spies had told him about Arjuna’s oath
and, craftily, he thought if Jayadratha
could be protected until the sun went down
Arjuna would fail and, bound by honor,
he would have to immolate himself.
Slightly reassured, Jayadratha
went to Drona’s tent, and knelt before him.
“Master, will you tell me Arjuna’s secret,
how his arrows fly so fast, so far, so deep?”
“Son,” said Drona, “Arjuna’s skill has been
honed in the crucible of suffering.
No one can defeat him. But take heart,
I will protect you. You should fight tomorrow;
be true, follow your kshatriya dharma.”
Through spies, the Pandavas were given news
of the elaborate arrangments planned
to guard the Sindhu king. Krishna, concerned,
wished that Arjuna had been less hasty
in uttering his vow. But the Terrifier
was scornful. “I assure you, Jayadratha
is already on his way to Yama’s realm.
Tomorrow, he and his ill-fated friends
will have cause bitterly to regret the day
they wallowed in the sin of child murder!”
At Arjuna’s request, Krishna visited
Abhimanyu’s mother, Krishna’s sister,
who was with Draupadi and Uttaraa,
the young hero’s even younger wife.
Krishna told them of Abhimanyu’s feats,
assuring them he was certainly in heaven.
&
nbsp; “Alas!” cried Subhadra, “O my child,
my beautiful one, deserving of the best
this earth can give, how can you be sleeping
now on the cold ground, your lovely body
punctured by arrows! O son, O sinless one,
this world is desolate without you in it!
My little boy, my arms ache to hold you,
I long for the smell of your skin, your hair.
Oh, I am hungry for the sight of you.
That you could die with Krishna to protect you
is proof of fate’s unfathomable ways.”
Uttaraa and Draupadi, Abhimanyu’s
second mother, paced wildly in their grief,
weeping without cease, inconsolable.
Krishna told them of Arjuna’s vow, and how
Abhimanyu’s death would be avenged,
but still they wept; the most extreme vengeance
could not restore to them their beloved boy.
Krishna returned to camp in sorrow. That night
no one slept well. They thought of tomorrow
and what had to be done to bring success.
What if Arjuna should fail? What then?
What if he were killed? How could Yudhishthira
pursue this war without him? What would he do?
Throughout the Pandava army, every man
prayed that Arjuna’s mission would succeed.
Before he retired to rest, long-haired Krishna
walked out onto a small rise in the land
and sprinkled it with water. Immediately
lush grass covered it, and fresh-sprung flowers.
He laid out objects for the night offering
to the gods, and Arjuna came to join him.
Learned priests consecrated the Pandava
and Arjuna felt his heart become lighter.
He hung fragrant garlands round Krishna’s neck
and gave him the ritual night-offering.
At the darkest hour, Krishna left his tent
and sought out Daruka, his charioteer.
“Tomorrow, we have the greatest challenge yet.
Arjuna swore this oath impulsively
without consulting me. I fear the worst.
Even the son of Kunti cannot kill
a man whom Drona has promised to protect.
Duryodhana will summon every means
to thwart Arjuna’s intentions. I want you
to bring my chariot and all my weapons
and follow us, so I can support him
if things go wrong. Oh, Daruka, Arjuna
is more dear to me than all the world.
I could not bear this life if he were dead.”
Restless on his bed, Arjuna wondered
how he would be able to keep his vow
if Jayadratha skulked behind a stockade
of chariots assembled by the Kauravas.
He slept at last, a sleep riven by nightmares.
Then he dreamed Krishna came to comfort him
and told him not to despair. “All that exists
rests in the lap of time. Despair is the foe
that robs you of the energy to act.
You must obtain the weapon, Pashupata,
from Lord Shiva. Fasten your mind’s eye
on him. When you have found him, be silent.
Then honor him, devote yourself to him
and, by his grace, he will give you Pashupata.”
Arjuna sat down in meditation
and it seemed he was traveling through the sky
with Krishna, over beautiful terrain,
over the snowy slopes of Himavat,
over the remotest mountain regions,
over the pleasure gardens of Kubera,
over groves where apsarases played.
They paused on a mountain peak to view the earth
shimmering gold beneath them, with its cities
and lakes scattered like the loveliest flowers.
At last, they reached the home of Lord Shiva.
The god was sitting, huge and awe-inspiring,
glowing with his own fire, trident in hand.
Parvati, his wife, was by his side.
Arjuna and Krishna bowed before him
and sang a hymn of praise, “O Lord Shiva,
to you who are the soul of the universe;
to you the unconquered, the all-merciful;
to you who have a thousand thousand eyes;
to you whose name is Death, lord of creatures,
all-powerful, and all-compassionate,
we join our hands in homage and devotion.”
“Welcome, Nara and Narayana,”
said the god, smiling. “Tell me what you desire
and I will grant it.” Arjuna looked deeply
into the flame that is the mighty god
and saw there the ritual night-offering
he had given Krishna earlier.
Shiva granted them the powerful weapon,
showed them where to find it, and how to use it.
Thus, for the second time, the son of Kunti
received the terrifying Pashupata.
Joyfully, the heroes worshiped Shiva
and returned to earth, and blissful sleep.
39.
IN PURSUIT OF JAYADRATHA
“Tell me, Sanjaya,” said Dhritarashtra,
“after they had slaughtered Abhimanyu
so contrary to dharma, so unfairly,
how could our warriors hold up their heads?
And when they heard the great conch Devadatta,
how could they march out to face Arjuna,
grim as all-destroying Death himself?
I fear what you will tell me. Oh, my friend,
I wish we had made peace with the Pandavas.
If only we had taken heed when Krishna
came as their envoy. But Duryodhana
was foolish and stubborn, and this holocaust
is the result.”
“You should blame yourself,”
said Sanjaya. “You had a hundred chances
to guide your son with a restraining hand.
You pandered to his greed—your lamentations
are like the hollow clank of empty vessels,
and come too late. What is done is done.
If you had set your son on the right path,
if you had heeded wiser heads than yours,
this disaster never would have happened.
O king, prepare yourself—your misery
has only just begun. Now I shall tell you
what happened on the fourteenth day of war.”
Arjuna woke refreshed and confident.
He took his bath and performed his devotions.
Yudhishthira was woken by the sound
of his musicians welcoming the dawn.
After his morning rituals were over
he held a meeting of his greatest warriors.
Turning to Krishna in deep respect, he begged
that he would do all he could for Arjuna.
Krishna reassured him. “Arjuna
will certainly fulfill his vow this day.”
Arjuna, worried for Yudhishthira,
asked Satyaki, that undefeated warrior,
to make all efforts to protect the king.
Everything that could be done was done:
horses fed and harnessed, the chariots
and weapons checked and blessed, well-fitting armor
carefully tied on. Last, the great standard
bearing the emblem of the divine monkey
was fixed in its socket. With a last embrace
between the brothers, the fighting day began,
a day of make or break, a day of truth.
The blare of conches, the relentless beat
of numberless war drums struck the Kauravas
like a summons to eternity.
More than any of them, Jayadratha
&nbs
p; was trembling with terror and dismay.
But as Drona laid out his battle plan,
and as he blew his conch with confidence,
the Sindhu king started to take heart.
Drona had mobilized his divisions
into a complex wheeled cart formation;
behind it, an impenetrable lotus
and, inside that, a strong needle array.
All these forces, well trained and determined,
stood between Jayadratha and his fate.
Arjuna, at the vanguard of his army,
where the densest arrow showers would fall,
was imposing—tall, muscular and graceful,
with shining eyes. Driven by dark-skinned Krishna,
he stood high on his gleaming chariot
upright, his black hair streaming out behind him.
His armor glittered. He was garlanded,
and on his head was the dazzling diadem
given to him by his father, Indra.
His jeweled earrings sparkled in the sun.
Relaxed, alert, he grasped his bow Gandiva,
while, above him, the great ape on his standard
bared its teeth and snarled at the enemy.
Battle began. Arjuna’s whole effort
must be to penetrate the Kaurava force
to reach Jayadratha. He told Krishna
to drive at your son Durmashana, the prince
positioned in the vanguard of your army.
The onslaught was devastating, and broke up
the front ranks of the Kauravas, who fled
under the fury of his attack. Heads
by the hundred were severed in a flash
of well-aimed arrows, and tumbled to the ground
like heavy fruit, while, for a short moment,
headless trunks fought on before they fell.
Duhshasana’s strong elephant division
joined the battle then, but did no better
and retreated, bristling with arrows.
Now, Arjuna formally approached Drona.
He joined his hands in respect. “Master,” he said,
“as your pupil, I claim your protection.
Look upon me as if I were your son.
Allow me to put the Sindhu king to death
as he deserves, and as I have sworn to do.
Help me keep my word.”
Drona smiled slightly.
“If you want Jayadratha, take me first!”
and he pelted Arjuna with arrows,
wounding his horses, severing his bowstring.
Arjuna fought back, volley for volley,
weapon for weapon, white horses against red.
This was a contest between the most skilled warriors,
a demonstration of most dazzling prowess.
But as the sun climbed higher in the sky,
Krishna urged Arjuna to leave the duel
Mahabharata Page 48