Mahabharata: A Modern Retelling (61 page)

tackling Kaurava riders by the thousand,

smashing a hundred of the foremost chariots

and several hundred foot soldiers.

Meanwhile,

Karna had returned to Yudhishthira,

again succeeding in making him retreat,

and killing his charioteer. Hour after hour

battle raged between the two great armies.

To and fro went the advantage, like the sea’s

shifting tides under the governing moon.

And still Karna had not come face to face

with Arjuna. Almost like one who knows

his true place is with his absent soul mate,

he longed for him. Only when they met,

weapon against weapon, body for body,

would his life achieve its resolution.

But Arjuna was fighting the Trigartas

yet again. This time, he and Krishna

blew on their conches, and while the enemy

was confused by the immense and brutal din

which scrambled the brain, Arjuna invoked

the
Naga
weapon, to paralyze the limbs

of his enemies. Each of them found

his legs encircled with strong writhing snakes,

hampering his movement. Then Susharman,

king of the Trigartas, mobilized

the
Sauparna
weapon, which brought flocks of birds

to gorge themselves, feasting on serpent flesh.

The Trigartas went back to the attack,

wounding Arjuna. Then he invoked

the
Aindra
weapon, slaughtering many thousands,

but still your son’s staunch allies would not give up;

only the death of Arjuna, or their own,

could fulfill their vow.

Karna, now,

fought like a celestial incarnate.

Wherever he was, the sun seemed specially bright.

None who saw him balancing on his chariot,

armored all in gold, could ever forget him.

Years afterward, survivors telling children

tales of their heroic past might say,

“I saw Karna fight at Kurukshetra,

mowing down the Pandavas like grass

and with extraordinary grace and beauty,

radiant as the sun. I can assure you

the world will never know his like again.”

The day wore on. If you could have looked down

on the battlefield from a great height,

it might have seemed an altar, with offerings

of all the precious wealth of the whole world.

The altar cloth was red, of varied shades

from poppy scarlet through to almost black.

It looked like a tapestry without design

(or, if there was one, it was not apparent)

and on it were objects, some moving, some still,

gray mounds, shining shapes, glittering colors,

gold and precious jewels without number.

What deity could ask such hard-won riches?

Who was entitled to such sacrifice?

Krishna scanned the field. “I fear Yudhishthira

must be badly wounded. I cannot see

his standard anywhere, and the Panchalas

are rushing forward, as if to rescue him.”

Arjuna urged Bhima to find their brother

but Bhima was reluctant, fearing to seem

as though he was avoiding Karna. Krishna

urged on the horses, and he and Arjuna

hurried to Yudhishthira’s tent, and found him

lying on his bed, hurt but alive.

Joyfully, he greeted Arjuna.

“Your coming must mean Karna is no more!

All these years, the thought of him, the dread,

has never left me. And since he overcame me

yet let me go, my rage and shame have burned me

with unbearable pain. Tell me everything!

Tell me how you fought and slaughtered him.”

“I had to fight again with the Trigartas,”

said Arjuna. “Karna was terrorizing

our troops, and I was just about to find him

to send him flying to the realm of Death

when I heard that you were injured, perhaps killed,

so I hurried here at once.” Yudhishthira

was angry and disappointed. “Arjuna,

this is dishonorable! You made a promise

that you would kill Karna, that wicked soul.

Even at your birth, it was predicted

that you would vanquish all our enemies.

How is it that you have fallen so short?

Your bow
Gandiva
is all-powerful,

you have the blessed Krishna for your driver.

The divine monkey adorns your banner.

If, despite all this, you can’t succeed,

give
Gandiva
to another warrior

and let him finish off that villain Karna!”

Arjuna blazed with anger. He drew his sword

and would have killed Yudhishthira if Krishna

had not held him back. “Arjuna! Stop now!

You came here to check on Yudhishthira;

you have seen him. Why are you so angry?”

“I made a secret promise to myself,”

said Arjuna, “that I would kill anyone

who told me I should pass
Gandiva
over

to someone braver.”

“That is no excuse,”

said Krishna. “You have violated dharma.

To draw your sword when not engaged in battle

is wrong; to draw it on your elder brother

is a deep outrage. That vow you made

was foolishness. And Yudhishthira spoke

in pain from his wounds, without reflecting.”

“Oh, Krishna,” said Arjuna, “you always speak

wisely. But now how can I do what’s right?

If I were to kill my beloved brother

I would commit the most appalling sin.

But if I break my word, I shall be unrighteous

according to the scriptures. What’s to be done?”

Krishna replied, “Scripture is well and good,

but it does not provide for every case.

Sometimes we have to use our powers of reason.

Remember the example of Kaushika:

“
T
HERE WAS ONCE
an ascetic called Kaushika, who lived in an isolated spot at the confluence of many rivers. He was not very well educated in the Vedas, but he made a vow that he would always speak the truth, and became famous in those parts as a truth-teller.

“One day, some fugitives ran past his house, being pursued by robbers, and they entered a nearby wood. Soon afterward, the robbers arrived. ‘Holy one, which way did those people go?’ they asked. ‘We know you always speak the truth.’

“‘They ran among the trees, over there,’ replied Kaushika.

“Off rushed the robbers; they caught up with their quarry and killed them all. And foolish Kaushika was consigned to deepest hell.

“So, Arjuna, you must understand:

dharma is about doing the least harm—

you decide, therefore, what you should do.”

Arjuna remained perplexed. “Well,” said Krishna,

“I suggest you could fulfill your vow

by doing harmless harm to Yudhishthira.

You could address him disrespectfully—

that could be seen as symbolizing murder.

After that, prostrate yourself before him,

touching his feet. And, in that way, honor

on your side and on his will be satisfied.

You will avoid both fratricide and falsehood.

Then, apply yourself to fighting Karna.”

A chastened Arjuna obeyed: “Yudhishthira,

what you have said to me, even if prompted

by pain and disappointment, is most unfeeling.

If Bhima had addressed me in this way,

I could have taken it, since he tirelessly

pits himself against the enemy.

But you are constantly away from battle,

protecting yourself, or else being protected.

Everything we do, the risks we take,

all the searing wounds inflicted on us,

are for your good. And the only reason

that we are here, rather than enjoying

a life of pleasant ease in Indraprastha,

is your love of gambling, nothing else.

For this alone, millions of brave men

have lost their lives, condemning wives and children

to a bereft and comfortless existence.”

Having spoken, Arjuna was appalled

at what he had just said. He drew his sword,

this time to kill himself. Krishna stopped him.

“How impetuous you are, Arjuna.

Kill yourself, and you certainly will go

to the vilest hell imaginable.

Say something now to praise your own merits—

that will be tantamount to suicide.”

Arjuna boasted of his accomplishments,

after which he put away his sword

and asked his eldest brother for forgiveness.

But Yudhishthira had taken Arjuna

seriously and, rising from his bed,

lamented, blaming himself bitterly.

“Bhima should be king instead of me!

I should retire to the farthest forest

in penance, for the remainder of my days.”

“Yudhishthira,” said Krishna, “please forgive me.

It is my fault that Arjuna was moved

to speak the way he did. Now, let all this

be forgotten. Today, without a doubt,

Karna will be killed by Arjuna.”

Yudhishthira became relieved and cheerful.

“What would we do without you? You always

guide us wisely when we lose our way!”

Yudhishthira and Arjuna embraced,

weeping, comforting each other. Arjuna

bowed to his brother, clasping his two feet.

“Today, I shall kill Karna. Until I do,

I shall not return. When you next see me

it will be as Karna’s conqueror.”

As Arjuna and Krishna traveled back

to the battlefield, Arjuna grew worried

about the task ahead—to kill Karna.

Krishna spoke words of calm encouragement.

“Think about it. He has long supported

your cousin’s wicked acts—and, but for him,

Duryodhana would not have risked this war.

He is much at fault—not from self-interest,

but from devotion to Duryodhana,

and from abiding rivalry with you.

He wants to give Duryodhana the world.

Without doubt, Karna is a towering force,

but even he is not invincible.

“On your cousin’s side, five great warriors

remain—Ashvatthaman, Kripa, Shalya,

Kritavarman and Karna. You may well

be reluctant to kill Ashvatthaman

out of your old devotion to his father,

your beloved teacher. You possibly

feel the same for Kripa, your first guru.

Shalya and Kritavarman are your kinsmen

on your maternal side. That may mean

that you will shy away from harming them.

But you should have pure enmity for Karna,

as he does for you. Your noblest duty

is to kill him—kill him today, Arjuna;

redress the wrongs against the Pandavas!”

A new zeal took hold of Arjuna.

“Today, killing Karna in single combat,

I vow to free us from the grief we’ve harbored

for all these years, and bring joy to my brothers.

I shall pay my debt to the Panchalas,

honor the memory of Abhimanyu

and all our fallen heroes, and prove myself

worthy to possess the great
Gandiva
!

Today, Draupadi will be avenged!”

He bent his bow, and wiped the bowstring clean.

“Arjuna has returned to join the battle!”

shouted Wolf-belly’s driver. Bhima’s relief

was so great, he rewarded his charioteer

with twenty chariots, fourteen villages

and a hundred female slaves! Sadly,

the man did not live to enjoy these riches.

In the desperate assault that followed

huge losses were inflicted by both sides,

mainly achieved by Karna and Arjuna

although the two did not come head to head.

In a slight lull in the hostilities,

Arjuna came within sight of Karna.

Like a swollen river in full spate,

Karna was laying waste to the enemy

and warriors’ bodies, chariots, animals

were scattered all around, like fallen trees.

Then the thunder of Arjuna’s chariot

was heard, coming closer. “Karna,” cried Shalya,

“the man you’re seeking is approaching fast.

Attack! No one else can overcome him.

Summon your great skill.”

“Ah,” said Karna,

“for the first time, I feel you are on my side.

I shall strain every nerve to kill Arjuna.

I know the son of Pandu has no equal.

He can shoot a dozen arrows in the time

another man shoots one. And he has Krishna.

Seeing them advance toward me, I sense

my skin grow cold, my hair standing on end.

But I also feel a calm resolve.

My whole life has prepared me for this battle.

If I fail, I shall sleep on the black earth.

Either way, I shall achieve my purpose.”

The Kaurava army was now breaking up

in dismal disarray, deserting Karna,

cowed by the force of Arjuna’s attacks.

But Karna, with unruffled authority,

rallied them to come to his protection.

He was like a rock to which they clung.

Karna’s son, Prasena, lost his life,

and Karna, in furious revenge, renewed

his onslaught on the Panchalas, killing

Dhrishtadyumna’s son, wounding Shikhandin.

Meanwhile, Duhshasana was fighting Bhima.

The mortal enemies wounded each other

with arrows; then Bhima took up his mace.

“Today, wicked soul,” he roared, “I shall drink

your pulsing blood, as I have sworn to do.”

He hurled the mace with such force Duhshasana

was knocked the distance of at least ten bow-lengths

and lay writhing in agony on the ground.

Bhima saw, in vivid memory,

this man assaulting blameless Draupadi

in the gaming hall. He sprang forward,

planted his foot on Duhshasana’s throat

and, ripping his chest open with his sword,

drank the warm blood from his still-beating heart,

gulping it down with relish. “This blood tastes

better than honey, better than mother’s milk!

Soon I will also end Duryodhana’s life,

honoring the second vow I made.”

All who witnessed this were terrified.

Bhima’s sheer animal ruthlessness

appalled Karna. “Take heart,” said Shalya, “focus

on Arjuna; he’s your only business now.

And here is your eldest son, Vrishasena,

rushing to your support.”

Vrishasena,

seeing that his father was set back

by Bhima’s act of butchery, launched himself

against the Pandavas. He mangled Nakula,

then vented his anger against Arjuna,

lodging arrows in him, and in Krishna.

The Kauravas were joyful. But wiser heads

knew that these great warriors would swat him

as if he were an irritating fly

whenever they saw fit. Indeed, Arjuna

wrathfully called to Karna, “I know that you,

together with other wicked Kauravas,

killed my son, courageous Abhimanyu,

when he was unprotected and alone,

contrary to all the rules of war.

For that I have vowed to kill this son of yours,

and after that, send you to Yama’s realm!”

Then, with ease, Arjuna took his bow

and with a few razor-headed arrows

cut off the arms and head of Vrishasena

who, like a lovely flowering tree that’s stricken

by a bolt of lightning, fell to earth.

Karna, scorched by grief, rushed at Arjuna.

“Keep a cool head,” said Krishna. “Our brave army

is breaking up in terror at the sight

of Karna galloping full tilt toward us.”

“Our victory is assured,” said Arjuna.

“Contemptible Karna is already dead!”

Even at this late hour, Ashvatthaman

approached Duryodhana, arguing for peace.

“Listen to me, you know I am your friend.

Stop the fighting. Arjuna and Krishna

are impossible to beat. The Pandavas

never wanted war for its own sake—

you forced it on them. If now you offer them

half the kingdom, I know they will agree.

Offer peace, and regain their goodwill.

The whole kingdom will be better off.

I will be the go-between in this,

and I will speak to Karna.”

Duryodhana

was silent. He considered. Then he sighed.

“What you say is good sense, Ashvatthaman.

But think how Bhima killed Duhshasana

as though he were a beast. And the Pandavas

will never trust me, thinking of the ways

I have made them suffer. How can there be peace?

Arjuna is tired from his many battles—

Karna still has a chance of killing him.

I know you’re speaking with the best intentions

but—no. Now, hurry back to the front line.”

The time had come. This would be the duel

that would decide the outcome of the war.

It struck onlookers that the two combatants

looked surprisingly alike: both tall,

broad-chested, well-proportioned, beautiful,

both god-like in their energy and strength.

Among the demons and celestial beings,

some supported Arjuna, some Karna.

The sky was for Karna, the earth for Arjuna.

Vaishyas, shudras and those of mixed descent

cheered for Karna, while Arjuna was the hope

of the higher orders.

The gods themselves

were divided between the two heroes.

Indra supported his son, Arjuna,

while Surya sought victory for Karna.

Karna asked Shalya, “Tell me, if I am killed

what will you do then?” Shalya replied,

“I will myself kill Krishna and Arjuna.”

Arjuna asked Krishna the same question.

“Arjuna,” said Krishna, smiling, “the earth

will split into a thousand jagged fragments

before Karna will succeed in killing you!

If it did happen, it would be a sign—

the last days of the world would be approaching,

and I would kill both Karna and Shalya

with my bare hands!” Arjuna was joyful.

“Today I shall grind Karna in the dust,

and make sorrowing widows of his wives.

Today, Abhimanyu’s grieving mother

will receive some comfort, and today

Kunti will receive the news she longs for.”

To the deafening sound of drums and conches,

the two great heroes closed on one another

like two clashing banks of rain-filled cloud,

or like two maddened elephants in season.

Although each warrior was supremely skilled

at cutting the other’s arrows in mid-flight,

soon blood was flowing freely on both sides.

Bhima, thinking Karna was doing better,

squeezed his hands in rage. “Come on, Arjuna,

how can you let your arrows miss their mark!

Think how this wretched man insulted us!”

And Krishna, too, reproached him. “Arjuna,

the Kauravas are cheering as though they think

Karna has won. Take
Sudarshana
,

my razor-headed discus, and separate

Karna’s head from his contemptible body!”

Arjuna braced himself for greater effort.

He invoked the lethal
Brahma
weapon,

but Karna, smiling, baffled it in mid-flight,

rendering it harmless. Arjuna

called up other celestial weapons, able

to inflict huge damage. So did Karna.

He fought with such panache, such superb skill,

it looked as if he would certainly prevail

as arrows poured in torrents from his bow.

The watching Kauravas yelled with delight.

But the battle was not over. The fine bodies

of both great warriors were slick with blood

but both had plentiful reserves of strength,

courage and energy. Karna released

five arrows like snakes, piercing Krishna

and passing through him to sink into the earth.

In fact, these were snakes indeed, related

to one Arjuna had killed at Khandava.

Incensed, Arjuna cut up these arrows,

and sent them winging back with such force

that Karna, deeply wounded, trembled in pain.

Then Arjuna sprayed the surrounding Kauravas

with such a dense onslaught of darts and arrows

that the sky turned black. They fled in terror.

Unsupported, Karna felt no fear

but rushed at Arjuna with a joyful heart.

O king, never before has there been seen

a duel between such transcendent warriors.