Mahabharata: A Modern Retelling (59 page)

and flung it on the ground contemptuously

in front of the Kauravas, who backed away

in dread. And when they looked for Drona’s body

they could not find it among the headless trunks

lying in their thousands all around.

Bhima roared and slapped his arms like thunder.

Leaderless, the Kaurava foot soldiers,

seized by terror, weeping, fled the field,

scattering like a flock of frightened birds.

Each intent on saving his own life,

men stumbled wildly over one other,

and animals, infected by the panic,

stampeded, so that many men were trampled

or crushed, or sliced in half by chariot wheels.

Many crowded round Duryodhana

seeking direction, but he was so shocked

he was incapable, and turned away.

Even Karna and Shakuni took flight.

“The Kauravas are totally destroyed!”—

that was the cry everywhere. The troops

dropped their weapons and armor as they ran,

convinced they would not now be needing them.

In a far part of the field, Ashvatthaman,

fighting still, caught sight of the main army

fleeing headlong, and he was astonished.

He ran to Duryodhana. “What’s happening?

I’ve never seen the men behave like this.”

Duryodhana could not bear to tell him.

Kripa, weeping, forced himself to speak.

“Ashvatthaman, your father is no more.

He was fighting against the Panchalas,

and his troops were suffering many casualties.

So then Drona invoked the
Brahma
weapon

and killed the enemy by the thousands—

he was fighting like a fit young warrior,

not like the ancient brahmin that he was.”

Then Kripa told him the entire story.

Ashvatthaman almost lost his senses

with grief and rage. He cursed Yudhishthira

for his duplicity. Then he attempted

to console himself, knowing that his father

was now certainly in the heavenly realm.

Then he became distraught again, to think

that Drona had died undefended, while he,

the son who should have been his father’s mainstay,

his principal protector, was elsewhere.

But he railed most against Dhrishtadyumna:

that he, a former pupil of his father,

could have treated Drona so brutally.

He swore revenge on all the Panchalas.

He swore revenge on all the Pandavas.

He swore that he would use celestial weapons,

of which he, like his father, was a master,

to grind his enemies into the dust.

Hearing these brave words from Ashvatthaman,

the Kauravas were heartened, and began

again to gather weapons, fasten armor,

harness horses to the chariots, prepared

to rally to the banners of their chiefs.

At a distance, the Pandavas picked up

the sounds of battle-readiness, and wondered

who would lead the Kaurava forces now.

“It must be Ashvatthaman,” said Arjuna.

“Protecting Dhrishtadyumna will be hard,

but we must try. The brahmin must have heard

how his father was unrighteously killed

after he had laid aside his weapons.

Dhrishtadyumna was wrong. I tried to stop him

but not hard enough, and for this fault

I’m overcome with shame.” Bhima was furious,

“You sound like a hermit living in the woods,

or like some priest! You are a kshatriya!

The task of a kshatriya is to rescue

others from harm. That means he must also

protect himself. You sound like an ignoramus.

You have done nothing you should be ashamed of.

Fix your mind on all the humiliations

we endured at the hands of Duryodhana.

We went into this war to be avenged,

yet now you seem half-hearted, almost scared

of what Ashvatthaman can throw at us.

Well,
I
am not afraid. If necessary,

I can destroy that brahmin single-handed!”

Dhrishtadyumna, too, vented his anger

at Arjuna. “Answer me this! Name me

the six duties of a brahmin. I’ll tell you—

performing sacrifices, teaching, giving,

assisting at sacrifices, receiving gifts,

and study. Which of these did Drona follow?

He was too occupied with martial skills

to observe the dharma of his own order.

He himself acted shamefully; he was killed

by trickery—what’s wrong with that? I killed him,

but I was born expressly to avenge

the insult that man offered to my father.

He used the
Brahma
weapon improperly.

Why should he not be killed by any means

available to us? Why, you killed Bhishma

through strategy. You should be offering

congratulations, not reproaching me.

I have only one regret—that I did not,

instead of throwing his gray head on the ground,

toss it among the dead untouchables!”

There was a shocked silence. No one spoke.

Then Krishna’s cousin Satyaki burst out,

“Is no one going to strike this evil man

for what he just said? As if his sinful act

were not bad enough! You say that Bhishma

has been killed by Arjuna. But in fact

Bhishma’s death will be of his own choosing,

and Shikhandin was the true instrument.

Wretched Panchala! Just let me hit you

with this mace, and you can return the stroke—

if you’re still standing!”

Dhrishtadyumna smiled.

“Strong words, Satyaki, but I forgive you.

Reflect on all the wrongs the Pandavas

have suffered at the hands of the unrighteous

Duryodhana. Just think about the death

of Abhimanyu. On this side of the balance

there is Drona and, yes, the defeat of Bhishma.

But sinfulness cannot always be countered

by narrow virtue. Ends justify means.

Being yourself unrighteous, nonetheless

you would rebuke those of us who are honest.

You are a sinful wretch from head to toe.

What about your slaughter of Bhurishravas

after Arjuna had cut off his arm,

and as he was sitting fasting unto death?

Was that a righteous act? And yet you dare

to censure me! Not one more word from you!”

Hearing this, Satyaki’s eyes bulged red.

He seized his mace, and started to rush over

to Dhrishtadyumna, with murderous intent;

but Bhima leapt up and, planting his feet,

wrapped his arms around the furious Vrishni

and held him fast. Sahadeva spoke,

“We are all friends here, and have been for years.

Surely this hostility makes no sense.

What quality is better than forgiveness?”

But the two strong antagonists continued

roaring at each other like raging bulls.

Finally, only Krishna could calm them down.

The Kauravas were in good heart again,

encouraged by the sight of Ashvatthaman.

He invoked the weapon called
Narayana
,

more damaging than any so far seen.

It released into the sky thousands of arrows,

razor-edged discuses, and iron balls

which in turn exploded into hundreds

of metal darts, spraying down like rain

over a wide area, piercing thousands.

Once in the body, the darts bent and twisted

inflicting terrible internal wounds.

Those who were able started to run away

and Yudhishthira, shocked at the fierceness

and scale of the attack, was in despair,

and was ready to surrender.

But Krishna

halted the fleeing troops. “Stop, all of you.

Lay down your weapons, leave your chariots

and stand still. Do not let yourselves even

imagine fighting. In this way,
Narayana

will not harm you.” The troops obeyed. But Bhima,

full of swagger, proposed that, single-handed,

he would resist the
Narayana
weapon

and overcome it. He started to attack

and was overwhelmed immediately.

Only because Arjuna intervened,

using his
Varuna
weapon to neutralize

Narayana
, did Bhima survive. Krishna

rebuked him, and made him cast away his mace.

All at once, everything was calm;

sweet breezes blew, birds sang, men and animals

became cheerful, and geared up once more

for battle.

“Use
Narayana
again!”

cried Duryodhana. Ashvatthaman answered,

“That is impossible. This is a weapon

that cannot be used twice.” With normal weapons,

Drona’s son rode out against the Pandavas,

and many warriors were severely wounded.

Arjuna, cast down by what had happened,

lashed out at Ashvatthaman. “You are proud

of your accomplishments, proud of your love

for the Kauravas, of your hatred for us.

Dhrishtadyumna who has killed your father

will follow that by crushing your pride too!”

Ashvatthaman, hurt and furious, invoked

the incendiary
Agneya
weapon. At once,

a choking darkness blotted out the field,

and blazing arrows rained down, burning all

they touched. A fiercely scorching wind blew, hotter

and hotter. The clouds rained blood. Desperate beasts

bucked and stampeded, breathing in great drafts

of burning air. Men’s cries were pitiful.

It was the stuff of nightmares, multiplied.

The watching Kauravas began to cheer

to see their enemies so afflicted,

but before they could draw a second breath,

Arjuna invoked the
Brahma
weapon

to neutralize the terrible
Agneya
.

Instantly, darkness lifted and cool winds

began to blow. Now the devastation

could be seen—burnt bodies everywhere;

one complete division had been reduced

to a single welded mass of blackened flesh.

But there was joy, too, at finding how many

warriors had survived. Krishna and Arjuna

blew their conches in triumph and relief.

Ashvatthaman was disconsolate

and, laying down his bow, he left the field

and ran off aimlessly. As he wandered,

he met Vyasa. Ashvatthaman’s voice

was choked with grief. “O wise sir, is there no truth

anywhere? How can this have happened?

How did my great weapon become powerless?

No one in the three worlds is capable

of baffling the
Agneya
weapon, and yet

only one enemy legion was destroyed

before it petered out. And Arjuna

and Krishna are still alive! Was there some fault

in the way I summoned up
Agneya
?”

Vyasa explained. “Mighty Narayana

in a previous existence, long ago,

as a reward for disciplined devotion

to Lord Shiva, was granted boons by him.

Nara was born as his close companion,

and each of them would be invincible.

In this earthly life, they have taken

the human forms of Krishna and Arjuna.

You too have a divine origin.

You are a portion of the great Lord Shiva.

Honor Krishna, whom Shiva greatly loves.”

Calmed by these words, Ashvatthaman did so,

and called a halt to fighting for the day.

Then Vyasa visited the Pandavas.

Arjuna spoke with him. “Master, tell me

what this strange thing means: several times,

as I have gone into battle, I have seen,

gliding in front of me, a shining figure,

lance in hand, whose feet do not touch the ground.

He never throws the lance but, at his approach,

the enemy forces break. People think

I have destroyed them, but they have already

been destroyed by him, as if a thousand

lances issue from the lance he holds.”

“It is Lord Shiva you have seen,” said Vyasa,

“lord of the universe, all-powerful god,

the deathless deity of many names.

He is acting for you. Go forth, Arjuna.

With Krishna as your counselor and friend,

be confident that victory will be yours.”

Two days later, Karna, now appointed

the next supreme commander, met his death,

cursed and alone, at the hands of Arjuna.

Sanjaya brought the news to the blind king,

sparing him nothing, and reproaching him.

“Knowing that this disaster is the outcome

of your own failings, do you not despair?

Thinking of the loss of the greatest heroes—

Bhishma, Drona, Karna . . . do you not despair?

Remembering the words of your counselors

which you ignored, do you not despair?”

“If the blind king,” said Janamejaya,

“hearing of Bhishma’s fall, then Drona’s death

and now the death of Karna, his great hope—

if the old king did not die of sorrow,

then that is remarkable indeed.”

Dhritarashtra fainted, as did Gandhari

and the other women. Every last hope

for Duryodhana’s victory had been pinned

on Karna. Now the old king feared the worst.

“I do despair,” he groaned. “I cannot believe

that such invincible heroes could be dead!

And what of my son—is he also dead?”

His legs buckled under him; he burned with grief.

“Duhshasana is dead,” said Sanjaya;

“Duryodhana still lives.” Dhritarashtra,

slightly recovering, begged Sanjaya

to tell him exactly how Karna had died.

“I will,” said Sanjaya, “but a wise man

does not despair, since the gods determine

whether or not effort is rewarded.”

“You are right,” said Dhritarashtra. “I will not

despair over-much. Now, tell me everything.”

After Drona’s brutal, unlawful killing,

the Kauravas spent the night in misery.

Duryodhana and his main advisers

sat together, hour after hour, talking.

Sleep eluded them. They kept reflecting

on all their crimes against the Pandavas,

knowing that they were unforgivable.

Ashvatthaman urged Duryodhana

to appoint Karna as supreme commander,

praising his great prowess. Before dawn

the appropriate rites were carried out.

Karna was consecrated with sacred water.

Luxurious gifts were lavished upon brahmins

so they would pray for victory, and everyone

felt somewhat comforted.

Yudhishthira

and Arjuna surveyed the battlefield

and looked at their own forces forming up.

“How few men are now left in both our armies,”

said Yudhishthira. “A few short days ago,

our ranks stretched further than the eye could see,

yet now they look so pitiful. Today,

I pray you will dispatch Karna, the sole

great warrior among the Kauravas.”

Conches announced the start of the day’s battle.

Fierce fighting began. Although Arjuna

thirsted to kill Karna, repeatedly

he was drawn away by the Trigartas,

whose dedicated mission was to slay him.

They kept provoking skirmishes, like horseflies

stinging a stallion, and although they suffered

devastating losses, they persisted,

squad upon relentless squad of them.

Later, Arjuna fought Ashvatthaman,

who inflicted painful wounds on him.

Suspecting restraint, Krishna was impatient.

“Arjuna, why are you not finishing him?

Ashvatthaman is immensely dangerous

and, just as a disease, if left untreated,

will cause more trouble later, so it is

with him.” Arjuna increased his efforts.

But Ashvatthaman, knowing that Arjuna

and Krishna were invincible, withdrew.

Karna was whirling round the battlefield

standing high on his chariot, armored in gold

like the sun himself. He was formidable,

attacking the Panchalas and Srinjayas

like a lion savaging a herd of deer.

He killed hundreds, and mutilated more,

while Ashvatthaman pursued the Pandyas.

The field was littered with the jeweled limbs,

heads and trunks of numberless fallen heroes.

Karna fought a duel with Nakula.

Onlookers might have thought them evenly matched,

but Karna could have killed the younger man

with little effort, had he not borne in mind

the solemn promise he had made to Kunti.

Nakula sustained only slight wounds

and was withdrawing when Karna, with his bow,

hooked him back as if he were a fish.

“Just stick to your equals,” he said, laughing,

and let him go. Nakula shook with rage

and humiliation.

Yudhishthira

fought with Duryodhana, while their forces

battled around them. The fight was long and hard

although eventually Yudhishthira

got the better of it, and could have killed

his opponent. But Bhima, seeing this,

reminded him that he himself had vowed

to send Duryodhana to the afterlife.

So Yudhishthira withheld his weapons,

and your son, in great pain and enraged,

limped back to camp, face like a thundercloud.

The sun had almost set. But now, at last,

Karna and Arjuna met face to face—

the greatest warriors in all the world!

For each, the other was the ultimate,

the glorious partner, destiny incarnate.

Almost like lovers, ardent and obsessed,

they rushed eagerly toward each other.

Only one would walk from Kurukshetra;

the other’s blood would feed this tragic soil.

But this was not the final act, not yet.

This was not a duel between two heroes

but a fierce battle between the armies

which the heroes led. And Arjuna,

piloted by Krishna, did most damage,

thickly raking the Kauravas with arrows

without respite, so that the battle seemed

to be raging under a mesh of shafts.

Battered and wounded, hurled out of their vehicles,

crushed by their own elephants, stripped of armor,

weapons spent, the exhausted Kauravas

had never been more grateful for the dusk.

Joyless, they limped and straggled back to camp.

Late that night, in Duryodhana’s tent,

Karna took stock. “No doubt Arjuna

is a redoubtable and skilled opponent.

His bow
Gandiva
is celestial,

but my bow is finer—the great
Vijaya

given to me by my respected teacher.

My prowess as an archer surpasses his.

No one has more courage than I do.

My will to win is absolute. But he has

Krishna—that is what makes him formidable.

Krishna advises him. Krishna inspires him.

Krishna is an unearthly charioteer,

weaving and dodging with the speed of light.

Then, too, Arjuna’s horses are immortal

and swift as thought; chariot, impregnable.

“Nevertheless, I have vowed to kill him.

Tomorrow, he will die, and I will give you

victory over all the world, or else

I myself will die attempting it.

To redress the balance of advantage,

I would like Shalya as my charioteer—

no one exceeds his expertise with horses.