Mahabharata: A Modern Retelling (57 page)

they deliver fruit. You should understand

that boastful speeches on the eve of battle

are the way a hero prepares himself,

having agreed to a great undertaking.

They are part of mental resolution,

inviting destiny to lend him strength.

These boasts of mine are never mere hot air,

but quite intentional. As for you,

you are old, unskilled—and a brahmin.

Furthermore, you love the Pandavas.

You extol their achievements, but our troops

have slaughtered their divisions by the thousand.”

At this, Ashvatthaman, a brahmin too,

and furious at the insult to his uncle,

drew his sword and started to threaten Karna,

until Duryodhana intervened: “Come, friends,

forgive each other. We need you to focus

on the task ahead.”

At the braying challenge

of the Pandava conches, and the shouting,

“Where is Karna? Come on! Fight with us!”

Karna went out calmly, and alone.

There followed spectacular feats of skill

on Karna’s part. Against the Pandava host

he held his own, and dispatched many hundreds,

splitting apart divisions, so men wandered

hither and thither, aimless as stray cattle.

Seeing his troops afflicted, Arjuna

entered the fray, skirmishing with Karna,

killing his four horses and his driver.

Karna jumped up onto Kripa’s chariot,

but the Kaurava troops started to withdraw,

smelling defeat, and fearing Arjuna.

Duryodhana cried to them, “Defend Karna!

Don’t run away, you cowards! I’ll fight myself

to show you how to challenge Arjuna!”

And he prepared to rush into the fray.

Kripa called to Ashvatthaman, “Stop him!

He’s like an insect flying into flame.

Don’t let him get anywhere near Arjuna

or he’ll be burned to ashes!”

“It isn’t right

that you should expose yourself to the enemy,”

said Ashvatthaman. “Let me fight instead.”

Duryodhana turned on him, in a frenzy:

“You and your father love the Pandavas—

is that why you never do me good?

Maybe you have a fondness for Draupadi!

But what can I do but rely on you?”

“It’s true, the Pandavas are like my brothers,”

said Ashvatthaman. “But I know my duty—

this is war, and I am a warrior

in your service. Battle is my calling.

Today, seeing my feats, Yudhishthira

will think the whole world filled with Ashvatthamans!”

“Go then,” said your son, “and do your best.”

Bhima came face to face with Duryodhana,

both full of wrath. It was a short encounter.

Bhima aimed a blazing spear; the Kaurava

cut it in three as it sped toward him.

Then Bhima hurled his mace with ferocious force,

smashing Duryodhana’s horses and chariot,

pulverizing them, so the troops who saw it

dimly, in the murkiness of night,

thought Duryodhana himself had met his end.

Karna fought a duel with Sahadeva.

The Pandava, desperate for glory,

gave the battle everything he had,

using every weapon and, when they ran out,

hurling anything that came to hand

in a furious onslaught. All of this

Karna deflected easily. Then he said,

“You should fight your equals, Pandava.

Go and join your brother over there.

Or perhaps you would be better off at home.”

He touched Sahadeva lightly with his bow.

Sahadeva wept with humiliation.

In the darkness, it was difficult to tell

what was happening. But courageous Karna

acquitted himself with honor. He defeated

Dhrishtadyumna after a long fight

and made deep inroads into the Pandava troops.

His bow glowed in a shining blur of arrows,

as he almost danced on his chariot platform

like the chief of the celestials.

Arjuna, thwarted by the lack of progress,

said to Krishna, “I should confront Karna

and fight him to the death—his or mine.”

“No,” said Krishna, “that time has not yet come.

Karna carries the celestial spear

Indra gave him. He’s reserving it for you.

Let ferocious Ghatotkacha fight him.

You apart, he is the only one of us

who can stop Karna. He is superbly skilled;

he has celestial and magic powers—

and ogres’ strength is quadrupled at night.”

Ghatotkacha, his blood-red eyes alight,

slavered at the prospect of the kill.

“I shall easily dispatch Karna

and my fame will be sung till the end of time!”

He was an awesome sight, gargantuan

with pointed teeth, skin bristly and colored

blue and red. He wore a diadem

of jewel-encrusted gold, and on his chariot,

drawn by fierce, impatient demon horses,

a hundred bells tinkled merrily.

With zest, he rushed at Karna, and there followed

such a combat, such a thrum of bowstrings,

such a wielding of celestial weapons,

such an invocation of illusions

that men in the two armies, witnessing,

thought they had never seen such a display.

The two were matched so evenly that neither

could gain the upper hand. Ghatotkacha

assumed many forms—sometimes a mountain,

then a thumb-sized creature, or many-headed

monster. Every time he changed his shape

Karna saw through the trick, and launched at him

torrents of spears and arrows, both man-made

and celestial. The courageous rakshasa

shattered Karna’s bow, but he seized another.

Ghatotkacha turned into a thundercloud

and rained down stones, which Karna pulverized

as they fell. He conjured the illusion

of demon hordes, fierce as hungry tigers,

but Karna destroyed them all. And so the duel

went on and on, wonderful to behold.

Meanwhile, the rakshasa Alayudha

approached Duryodhana with a large force,

to offer his support. He had waited years

to avenge his monstrous kinsmen, Baka

and Hidimba, dead at Bhima’s hands.

Now he saw his opportunity.

Duryodhana was, of course, delighted,

and the ogre troops heartened the Kauravas

with their loud roars and wildly clattering chariots.

Then, it seemed, every man on the battlefield

flung himself into the fray with curdling cries

as if this battle could decide for good

the outcome of the whole disastrous war.

Sparks from clashing weapons lit the darkness,

revealing for a moment the expressions

of rage and anguish. Some men carried torches

which threw garish light, making more profound

the pitchy blackness that surrounded them.

Alayudha made his way to Bhima

to settle scores with him. The two fought

ferociously, with great resourcefulness,

but blow by blow, illusion by illusion

the rakshasa was gaining the advantage.

Krishna spoke urgently to Arjuna:

“We’re in great danger. Ghatotkacha now

should leave Karna, and lend support to Bhima.

Meanwhile, let Dhrishtadyumna and Shikhandin

take Ghatotkacha’s place and harass Karna.

Nakula and Sahadeva should focus

on killing as many ogres as they can.

You and I should concentrate on Drona

and his divisions.”

Ghatotkacha flew

to his father’s aid, and the two monsters,

covered with wounds, clashed against each other

like two great storm clouds, raining sweat and blood.

Then Ghatotkacha, whirling a razor-sharp

scimitar, sliced off Alayudha’s head

and flung it down at Duryodhana’s feet.

The Pandavas beat gongs and blew their conches,

and Duryodhana started to believe

that Bhima’s vow to kill him and his brothers

was already as good as accomplished.

Now came radiant Karna’s finest hour.

Once he had been unbeatable, but now,

deprived of the protection he was born with—

the earrings and cuirass he had relinquished

to Indra—he had only the deadly spear

the wily god had given him in exchange:

a lopsided bargain.

But he also had

his courage, and his extraordinary skill.

He fought the Pandavas and the Panchalas

in a manner that took the breath away.

He stormed the enemy with whetted spears.

Handsome as a god, he loosed a torrent

of superb arrows, each finding its mark.

He cut off in mid-flight the stream of weapons

aimed at him. He seemed unreachable.

So quick were his movements, no one could see

when he touched his quivers, drew out the arrows,

when he nocked those arrows to the bowstring,

when he raised his fine bow and released them.

They only saw that the dust-filled night sky

was darkened even further by the cloud

of Karna’s well-aimed and death-dealing shafts

that slaughtered Pandava forces by the hundred

and made them flee in utter disarray.

Ghatotkacha, maddened by the sight,

advanced again at Karna—the rakshasa

roaring like an angry lion; Karna

silent, focused, graceful, dignified.

Neither of them could gain the advantage.

Each supremely skilled, they were like dancers

engaged in a miraculous performance.

Ghatotkacha beheaded Karna’s driver

and killed his horses. Then he disappeared

and, drawing on his powers of sorcery,

set the sky alight with flaming clouds

and pelted down onto the Kaurava troops

a cascade of missiles of all kinds

so that hundreds of men and animals

were massacred where they stood, powerless

to fight back. “Oh, Karna,” cried the soldiers,

“save us, for pity’s sake! Kill the rakshasa!”

Karna knew he had few means to defend

his forces, who were crying out to him.

Calmly, he thought; and knew what he must do,

although he clearly saw the consequences.

With resolution, he took out the spear

Indra had given him, the divine missile

he had reserved for Arjuna, the weapon

he had long counted on. He raised it high.

The spear destroyed the power of trickery

and Ghatotkacha, now visible,

terrified, began to run away.

Karna hurled the spear. That dreadful dart

blazed as it flew, hissing like a snake,

and plunged into the heart of Bhima’s son,

felling him instantly. As he died, he shone

like Himavat illumined by the sun.

Then proud Karna walked away in silence.

The Pandavas had loved Ghatotkacha

and saw their forces, grim and demoralized,

shed tears of grief. But Krishna was exultant,

laughing with delight, embracing Arjuna.

“How can you be happy,” asked Arjuna,

“at such a time?”

“I’ll tell you why,” said Krishna.

“With this death, our victory is certain!

If Karna still possessed the sacred spear

even you could never cause his death.

Karna is a very great hero,

greater than you know. Generous, kind

even to enemies, devoted to truth—

and a warrior of consummate skill.

There was a time when even the gods themselves

could not have defeated him. That was before

he gave away the breastplate he was born with

and the earrings that made him invincible.

The spear of Indra was his last advantage

and now it has been spent! Ghatotkacha

was created to be the instrument

of Karna’s downfall. But make no mistake,

it will not be easy to overcome him

even now. You must do as I tell you:

there will come a moment, as you fight him,