Mahabharata: A Modern Retelling (60 page)

If he will do it, nothing on earth can stop me.”

Knowing Shalya would certainly take umbrage

at being asked to drive for a driver’s son,

Duryodhana spoke to him with honeyed words.

When he heard your son’s proposal, Shalya

was incandescent with hurt pride and anger.

“I am a king, a distinguished warrior!

I could split the earth with my bare hands—

see the muscles on these arms of mine!

The driver’s son is vastly my inferior;

how can you ask me to be his underling?

This is an insult! I will not fight at all.

Farewell—I shall depart for my own kingdom.”

“It is an unusual request, I know,”

said Duryodhana. “I realize

that those belonging to the driver caste

should be the servants of kshatriyas,

not the reverse. And you are a great warrior,

ruler of the Madras, virulent dart

in the contemptible skin of your enemies.

But Karna was a foundling, as you know.

Look at him, his stature, his massive chest;

think of the natural armor he was born with—

how could he really be of inferior birth?

Would his guru have taught celestial weapons

to one whom he regarded as unworthy?

“Arjuna is able to crush our forces

only because Krishna is his driver.

You are the only warrior we have

who can be compared in skill with Krishna.

Just as Karna is greater than Arjuna,

so your skill with horses is superior

by far to Krishna’s. Agree to this, my friend,

I beg you; help Karna crush the Pandavas.”

Reluctant, but flattered, Shalya acquiesced—

but specified that he would speak to Karna

as he felt inclined, not with deference.

Duryodhana, relieved, reminded him

that in the war between the gods and demons,

great Brahma acted as the charioteer

of Shiva, who was able to destroy

the triple city with a single arrow.

It was the seventeenth morning of the war.

The armies, much reduced, were riding out

to meet each other. The Kauravas rejoiced

to see Karna, resplendent on his chariot,

brilliant as the lord of light himself,

driven by Shalya. Impervious to fate,

full of cheerful trust and optimism,

they did not pay attention to dire portents—

thunder in a cloudless sky, fierce winds,

a shower of bones tumbling around them.

Karna’s horses stumbled as they set out

to tumultuous cheering from the ranks.

As they traveled, Shalya bore in mind

the promise he had made to Yudhishthira

that he would say and do all in his power

to shake Karna’s resolve and confidence.

“Do not think, Shalya, I am afraid to die,”

said Karna. “Simply, I cannot tolerate

any harm coming to Duryodhana.

Among his warriors, only I am able

to protect him and deliver victory.

With my beautiful bows, my blazing sword,

in my gorgeous chariot draped with tiger skins,

I will, today, send Arjuna to the realm

of Yama—and if all the celestials

were to combine forces to protect him,

with you as my driver I would vanquish them!”

Scornfully, Shalya laughed at him. “Stop now!

Stop these empty boasts, driver’s son,” he said.

“Think of the many brave and marvelous feats

Arjuna has performed. Remember how

he burned the Khandava Forest; how he snatched

Krishna’s sister as his bride; how he rescued

Duryodhana from the gandharvas; recall

how he beat off the Kaurava cattle raid,

sending you scurrying for safety! Why

did you not defeat him on that occasion?

Arjuna and Krishna are unsurpassed.

Stop your bragging, if you have any sense.”

“Enough! Enough!” cried Karna, full of rage.

“Time enough, when I have fought the Pandava,

to know if your taunts are fair, or puffs of smoke.

Now, charioteer, rouse up my splendid horses!

Make haste! Let us ride in search of Arjuna.”

As they went he made a handsome offer

to all the Pandava soldiers whom they met:

riches for anyone who would point out

where Arjuna could be found. Shalya sneered.

“No need to waste your wealth. For sure, Arjuna

will be easy enough for you to find.

When you are face to face with him, you’ll soon

regret your foolish boasts and windy speech

and long for the protection of your troops.

You’ll wish you’d searched for him without success.

In your longing to engage with Arjuna

you are like a jackal, rash, deluded,

who dreams of killing a ferocious tiger.

Arjuna is a tiger; and you, my friend,

are a mere jackal, and you always will be.”

“I think you are a foe in friend’s clothing!”

exclaimed Karna, furious and insulted,

“but you will not succeed in weakening me.

The Madras are known as an outlandish race,

unclean in their habits and appearance.

Your women are promiscuous and uncouth,

they scratch their arses and piss standing up.

Your people drink spirits and eat disgusting,

impure substances. They commit robbery

and procure abortions—horrible!

Fickle, disloyal, unreliable,

there is no sin a Madra won’t embrace.

You’re clearly a stooge for the Pandavas,

planted to discourage and alarm me.

But no one will deflect me from my task.

Out of respect for Duryodhana

I hold my peace. But if you carry on

I’ll separate your vile head from your shoulders.”

“It is the backward citizens of Anga,”

retorted Shalya, “who are the sinful ones—

it’s said they even sell off their own children.

That is the kind of people you rule over.

Still—good and bad are found in every country.

It’s easy to condemn the faults of others.

What I am saying should not make you angry.”

“I know better than you do,” said Karna,

“the qualities of Arjuna and Krishna.

But it is neither helpful in you, nor kind,

to gloatingly remind me of them now.

I shall fearlessly fight the Pandava.

It’s true, I am troubled by the double curse

I bear. But if my celestial weapons

prove ineffective, my enemy will learn

that I have many others. Just as the land

resists the mighty pounding of the ocean

so will I stand up to Arjuna

with calm and hopeful heart. I know my skill;

my gifts as an archer are at least as great

as his. And if I boast, it is because

boasting is fitting conduct for a warrior

on the brink of battle—quite deliberate,

not mindless bragging. Now, let us drive on.

I entrust myself to the gods’ will.”

No sooner had the two armies engaged

than the Trigartas, always in the offing,

with Arjuna their solitary target,

attacked him like a swarm of killer bees.

He made short work of them, but close behind

came the legions of the Kaurava allies,

and soon the battle became more general.

Meanwhile, Karna was fighting the Panchalas

and others among the Pandava allies,

accompanied by three of his valiant sons,

and they killed dozens of leading warriors.

Grieving for Ghatotkacha, killed by Karna,

Bhima cut off the head of Karna’s son,

Satyasena, beautiful as the moon.

He took aim at another son, Sushena,

but Karna blocked his arrow, and then injured

Bhima with several swift shafts of his own.

Then, in an even more violent assault,

he slammed seventy arrows into Bhima.

So it continued. Karna, as if inspired,

struck his enemies so fast and furiously

that no one could make out how he took aim,

only the blur of his strong arms in motion.

He found himself confronting Yudhishthira.

He destroyed the Pandava’s bow, and then,

with ninety almost simultaneous arrows,

stripped off his armor, bright with precious jewels

like the night sky glittering with stars.

Yudhishthira, enraged, fought back with lances

and wounded Karna, who quite soon, however,

deprived him of all weapons. Yudhishthira

began to withdraw, but Karna laid a hand

on his shoulder and, mindful of his promise,

merely spoke to him. “Have you forgotten

how a kshatriya should conduct himself?

Leaving the battle to save your craven life,

you are behaving like a timid brahmin.

I would not stoop to kill one such as you.”

Your nephew turned, pale with humiliation.

He shouted to his troops, “Exert yourselves!”

The Pandava troops then flung themselves against

the Kauravas, who returned their vicious blows,

yelling wildly with a savage joy

until the earth was littered with the limbs

of heroic combatants, drunk with battle.

The sound of music coming from the sky

was heard above the din, as apsarases

greeted heroes newly arrived in heaven.

That sound made those still battling below

more careless of their lives, anticipating

the pleasures that awaited them. They fought

like men possessed; if they lost their weapons

they tore at one another with their nails,

punched, bit each other, dragged at each other’s hair,

hurled themselves into the lake of blood

that grew ever wider.

Bhima had seen

Karna inflict shame on Yudhishthira

and was as eager to avenge his brother

as Karna was keen to re-engage with him.

“Truly,” said Shalya, seeing Bhima coming,

“I never saw Bhima look so menacing.

He looks as if he could dispatch the creatures

of all three worlds together!” Karna laughed.

“Quite right,” he said. “But if I can wound Bhima,

or destroy his chariot, then Arjuna

will come for me. And that is what I want—

have wanted all my life.” Shalya drove

at Bhima, and the two great warriors clashed.

Painful wounds were inflicted by each of them,

arrows thudding into each other’s body,

ripping through armor, taking the breath away.

At last Bhima, drawing his bow right back,

loosed an arrow straight at Karna’s heart

with such deadly force that Karna fainted,

and Shalya drove him out of shooting range.

Exhilarated, Bhima then attacked

and killed many more of your brave sons.

Karna, recovered, went back to the assault

against Bhima, and destroyed his chariot.

Bhima jumped down and, brandishing his mace

like Indra destroying mountains with his thunder,

charged the Kaurava elephant division,

felling hundreds. He seemed superhuman,