Mahabharata

by Carole Satyamurti

  and keep his mind fixed on the main objective.

  “What?” cried Drona, “Are you giving up

  on an opponent who is not yet beaten?”

  “You are not my opponent,” said Arjuna,

  turning away from him, “but my dear master.”

  Mounting an assault on Drona’s forces,

  Arjuna released a thousand arrows

  in the time a normal fighter would fire ten.

  Kauravas fell by the hundred. Pandavas

  also suffered losses. And Arjuna

  was knocked senseless by a well-aimed lance

  flung by Shrutayus. Quickly recovering,

  he invoked the Shakra weapon, which spewed out

  many thousands of straight and speedy arrows,

  and the Kauravas were washed glistening red

  as bloody fountains sprang from elephants,

  horses and men, splashing to the ground.

  Gaining, yard by yard, Krishna drove forward

  until at last they broke through Drona’s lines

  and shattered the well-planned lotus formation

  as the Kauravas scattered in disarray.

  Horrified, Duryodhana rushed over

  to where Drona stood. “It’s a disaster!

  Arjuna is scorching our infantry

  like a raging fire consuming tinder.

  It is as if my troops were feeble children!

  How long have you eaten at my table?

  I have pampered you in every way,

  yet I know your heart is with the Pandavas—

  I was a fool to trust you!” Drona sighed.

  He was expecting this; Duryodhana

  could not bear things not to go his way

  and had to find somewhere to pin the blame.

  The tantrum soon passed. “Forgive me, Drona—

  put it down to rage and disappointment.

  We must at all costs guard Jayadratha.

  What hinders you?”

  “It’s the sheer speed,” said Drona.

  “Those horses are the finest in the world,

  and Krishna drives with supernatural skill,

  swerving, dodging through the smallest gaps.

  I am not young, pace is not my strength.

  I propose that you protect Jayadratha,

  block the Pandava from getting near him,

  while I attempt to seize Yudhishthira.”

  “But how can I do that,” groaned Duryodhana,

  “when even you have failed? The gods themselves

  couldn’t stop him.”

  “I have a solution,”

  said Drona; and he gave Duryodhana

  a gleaming, finely wrought golden breastplate

  and fastened it on, chanting secret mantras,

  tying it with sacred Brahma strings.

  Pausing only to receive Drona’s blessings,

  Duryodhana, restored to confidence

  and followed by the hosts of the Trigartas,

  set out to do battle with Arjuna.

  Bent on capturing Yudhishthira,

  Drona turned to the front of the array

  where he sought to hold back Dhrishtadyumna,

  advancing at the head of a vast force.

  Drupada’s son aimed to divide and conquer.

  Drona tried to stop him, but repeatedly

  the Kauravas were split in three. One part

  gravitated toward Kritavarman,

  hotly harassed by Yudhishthira;

  another coalesced round Jalasandha,

  chased by mace-wielding Bhima; while a third,

  harried by the brilliant Dhrishtadyumna,

  gathered around Drona. Fighting was fierce;

  shafts of sunlight struggling through clouds of dust

  made seeing difficult, but showers of arrows,

  loosed with no special target, found a mark

  in man and beast alike.

  Dhrishtadyumna

  urged his charioteer, “Quickly! Approach

  Drona, that boastful warrior, that great teacher,

  that brahmin traitor to his natural calling!”

  Then the two accomplished fighters clashed.

  It was a spectacle—all around them

  other fighting stopped, so men could watch

  the consummate display of archery,

  the two well matched, making little headway

  against each other. Then Drishtadyumna

  rashly leapt up onto Drona’s chariot,

  poised on the backs of his rust-red horses

  to fight him hand to hand. It was a feat

  to remember. But Drona knocked away

  his sword, wounding him in many places

  and, if Satyaki had not rescued him,

  and himself taken on the fight with Drona,

  it could have been the end for Dhrishtadyumna.

  Satyaki and Drona fought like gods—

  fiercely, but with finesse and self-possession.

  The sky grew overcast as clouds of arrows

  blotted out the sun, and soon they both

  ran with blood. Each hoped for victory,

  and other warriors stood around, watching,

  gripped by such astounding mastery.

  (At heart, Drona, too, applauded Satyaki,

  noting that he had learned from Arjuna

  skills Drona himself had taught the Pandava.)

  Both were masters of celestial weapons,

  and each of them could neutralize the other.

  Neither won. Eventually, Yudhishthira

  called his troops to arms, and general battle

  was resumed.

  Now the white sun had started

  on its inexorable downward course

  toward the outline of the Asta hills.

  Krishna and Arjuna, with their divisions,

  forced a passage through the Kaurava ranks,

  their sights set steadfastly on Jayadratha.

  Arjuna, with his limitless supply

  of iron-tipped arrows, inflicted dreadful harm,

  but the Kauravas had too much at stake

  to slacken their resolve.

  So did Arjuna.

  The going was hard. The chariot maintained

  enormous speed, and still the Terrifier

  was killing men a league ahead of him.

  No chariot had moved as fast before.

  It moved with the speed of imagination,

  the speed of thought, the speed of rapt desire.

  But the horses were becoming tired.

  Krishna was concerned. “We must unyoke them,

  remove their arrows, give them time to breathe.

  And they need to drink, but there is no water.”

  Arjuna shot an arrow at the ground

  and at once a sparkling lake appeared,

  with water birds and dense, shade-giving trees.

  Then he made a shelter out of arrows

  and, while he held back the Kauravas,

  Krishna led the horses under it

  and calmly unyoking them from the chariot,

  rubbed and stroked them with an expert touch

  so they revived from their fatigue and wounds.

  To unyoke horses in the midst of battle!

  Such a thing had never been done before.

  Seeing this, at first the Kaurava troops

  roared in triumph; surely now they had him,

  heroic Arjuna, on foot and alone!

  But, calm and focused, the great Pandava

  raked your forces with his powerful weapons.

  “Just our luck!” groaned some of them. “Duryodhana

  has set us up as sacrificial sheep.

  He doesn’t seem to understand that no one

  can defeat Arjuna. King Jayadratha

  is a dead man already. Duryodhana

  should make arrangements for his funeral rites.”

  Now, with the horses rested, Krishna drove

  furiou
sly forward, sweeping aside

  all attempts to block their headlong progress.

  The two heroes shone like twin dazzling suns.

  At last, they caught a glimpse of Jayadratha

  with Duryodhana protecting him.

  Joy seized them. Now Arjuna roared in rage

  and exultation. “Even Indra himself

  with all the celestials could not save him now!”

  They advanced all the faster, hooves thundering,

  terrible ape banner striking terror

  into the heart of the cowering Sindhu king.

  “Attack Duryodhana!” shouted Krishna.

  “It’s time to kill that wicked ill-wisher,

  that greedy villain!”

  “Drive on!” cried Arjuna,

  remembering his cousin’s many wrongs.

  Duryodhana jeered, “Come on, son of Pandu,

  fight me if you dare! Show everyone

  if this great prowess people talk about

  is real heroism, or empty talk!”

  Arjuna took aim and loosed his arrows

  at Duryodhana, who stood there, laughing

  as the shafts bounced harmlessly off his armor

  time after time. Krishna was astonished.

  Arjuna realized: “The villain’s armor

  must have been tied onto him by Drona.

  But I know a mantra that will make him

  vulnerable again, a powerful weapon.”

  He invoked that weapon, but before

  it reached Duryodhana, it was deflected

  by Drona, from a distance. If Arjuna

  had invoked the weapon a second time

  it would have killed his own troops, and himself.

  Instead, he used his ordinary skill

  to kill Duryodhana’s charioteer and horses

  and smash his chariot. He then shot off

  your son’s leather gauntlets, and pierced his hands.

  Krishna blew his conch Panchajanya,

  Arjuna gave a blast on Devadatta,

  and the Kaurava forces stood stupefied.

  Meanwhile Drona tried again to capture

  Yudhishthira, but the king was whisked away

  on Sahadeva’s chariot. Alambusha

  now lusted to avenge his monstrous brother.

  Ghatotkacha advanced to fight with him.

  He plucked him from his chariot, whirled him round

  as though he were a doll, and flung him down

  onto the ground where, like a brittle pot,

  he was dashed to fragments.

  Yudhishthira

  had picked up the sound of conches blown

  by Krishna and Arjuna, and he was fearful

  for their safety. He spoke to Satyaki,

  consumed by anxiety, tears in his eyes,

  and told him to go to Arjuna’s defense.

  Satyaki, fast as lightning in the field,

  was slow in his reactions otherwise.

  Arjuna had told him to guard his brother

  and guard Yudhishthira he must. Desperate,

  Yudhishthira was forced to press him hard:

  “Arjuna may be in mortal danger

  floundering in an ocean of Kauravas!

  You, Satyaki, have always been our mainstay,

  second only to Krishna in weaponry.

  You must obey me.” Satyaki was perplexed

  since he owed obedience to Arjuna,

  his teacher, just as he did to his leader;

  and Arjuna had said . . . So the conundrum

  went round and round in poor Satyaki’s mind.

  At last, reluctant, he agreed to go,

  but only after repeating once again

  Arjuna’s parting words to him; and after

  assuring Yudhishthira that Arjuna

  was bound to be quite safe, and did not need

  rescuing by him. “And another thing,

  who will protect you from Drona while I’m gone?”

  Yudhishthira assured him Dhrishtadyumna

  and Bhima would be constantly at his side.

  “Very well, I’ll go,” said Satyaki.

  “Let no one think me slow to obey orders.

  I have your interests constantly before me

  as I do Arjuna’s. I’ll follow him

  and battle by his side until he slaughters

  Jayadratha. I shall scourge the Kauravas.

  Like fire, I shall certainly destroy them.

  But please arrange to have the proper weapons

  placed in my chariot in the correct places—

  in fact, let five times as many weapons

  as usual be provided.” Then Satyaki

  went to his tent and took a ritual bath,

  changed his clothes, drank honey for energy,

  gave gifts to brahmins to secure good fortune

  and, saying goodbye to Yudhishthira,

  was finally off. The sun was sinking fast.

  Following the route blazed by Arjuna,

  Satyaki sliced through the Kaurava lines,

  killing hundreds. Again, he encountered Drona,

  but wasted no time fighting him. Instead

  he told his charioteer to find a passage

  between the separate divisions led

  by Drona and Karna.

  Now he had set his mind

  on his objective, all his mastery

  and his celestial weapons came into play.

  At one point he dueled with Duhshasana

  but with restraint, remembering Bhima’s oath.

  Duhshasana ran for Drona’s protection.

  “Why are you fleeing from the fight, my son?”

  asked Drona scornfully. “You were brave enough

  when you insulted Draupadi. Where now

  is your pride and insolence? What will you do

  when you are up against real opposition,

  faced with Arjuna the invincible?

  If you are that frightened, urge your brother

  to make a just peace with the Pandavas.”

  Once again, Drona and Dhrishtadyumna

  met in battle. They wounded each other badly,

  but neither of them could get the upper hand.

  Drona, white-haired, eighty-five years old,

  fought like a youth. In fact, the rumor spread

  that this was Indra himself, armed with thunder.

  Yudhishthira was desperate to know

  what was happening to Arjuna.

  Again he heard Krishna’s conch, and was afraid—

  suppose it meant his brother had been killed?

  He said to Bhima, “I’m seeing Arjuna,

  seeing him in my mind—his tall, straight form,

  his shining hair and dark skin, his strong arms.

  I cannot see his standard, so I fear

  he has been overwhelmed. And Satyaki—

  what has become of him? You, my Bhima,

  must go and find out. Dhrishtadyumna here

  can certainly protect me from abduction.”

  Bhima set off, though with some reluctance,

  and found that Arjuna was fighting strongly.

  He uttered a great roar, and Yudhishthira,

  hearing it, was reassured. Then Karna,

  that hero endowed with preternatural skill,

  desiring battle, his first formal duel

  of the war, mounted an assault on Bhima.

  What a fight that was! The two great warriors

  fought differently—Karna graceful, subtle,

  Bhima more dependent on sheer strength,

  but accurate for all that. Each let loose

  hundreds of arrows. Roaring still, Bhima

  bisected Karna’s bow, then wounded him

  with ten straight shafts. Seizing another bow,

  Karna shot a lightning cascade of arrows.

  Bhima blocked them. Then, with broad-headed shafts,

  he killed Karna’s charioteer and horses,


  and all the while he smiled and roared with pleasure.

  Karna quickly mounted his son’s chariot

  and fought on; but, mindful of the promise

  he had made to Kunti, he fought with restraint.

  Soon, the heroes were bristling with arrows

  sticking out all over, like porcupines,

  and blood flowed down over their golden mail,

  rendering it coppery. They exchanged

  insults: “You contemptible driver’s son!”

  “Eunuch! You lumbering half-wit! You glutton!”

  Seeing Karna hard pressed, Duryodhana

  sent one of his brothers, Durjaya,

  to support him. It was not long before

  Bhima sliced his head from his body. Later,

  after Karna had twice more had his chariot

  smashed to bits beneath him, another brother,

  Durmukha, came—and met with the same fate.

  Then Duryodhana sent several more

  of your sons, each of whom was felled

  by the furious Bhima. Karna, grieving

  and feeling responsible for all these deaths,

  withdrew from the fighting for a while

  and ritually walked around each body

  out of respect for these fallen princes

  who for years had been like his own brothers.

  Dhritarashtra interrupted Sanjaya:

  “Something in your tale is disturbing me.

  Duryodhana pins all his hopes of victory

  on Karna. This war was only started

  because the driver’s son assured my boy

  that he could annihilate the Pandavas.

  But (as you have told me) he has promised

  that he will not kill Kunti’s other sons,

  only Arjuna. I am wondering, then,

  how can Karna, with his heart divided,

  act completely for Duryodhana’s good?

  “But these things are beyond my comprehension.

  It is time, after all, that will decide.”

  Sanjaya continued:

  Bhima began to make his way to where

  Arjuna and Krishna could be found.

  But Karna followed him. Breathing hot sighs,

  keen to avenge the dead Kaurava princes,

  keen, too, to prove his worth to Duryodhana,

  Karna shot a cloud of golden arrows

  radiating in a shining blur

  like the sun itself. So many were there

  it was as if they sprang not just from his bow

  but from all round his chariot. The arrows,

  beautifully fletched with peacock feathers,

  were like a flight of the most lovely birds.

  And he himself was radiant: tall, handsome,

  crowned with a chaplet of blue lotuses.

  Bhima, remembering his former wrongs,