THE MAHABHARATA: A Modern Rendering, Vol 2 (54 page)

In grudging admiration, Aswatthama says to Kritavarman, “If anyone on Kurukshetra is Arjuna’s equal and Krishna’s, it is Satyaki.”

Kritavarman murmurs, “There is no fourth.”

But Karna has swung away from the irrepressible Satyaki and confronts Arjuna. Before they actually fight, Arjuna cries to him, “You slaughtered my son like an animal. You will see me kill your boy Vrishasena!”

Arjuna sails past, always flying nearer Jayadratha, whom he now sees clearly through the slender suchimukha. Every moment the sun sinks lower, the shadows grow longer. Duryodhana rides up to Karna and cries, “You must hold him up, Karna! The sun has almost set. Just a while and he will not reach Jayadratha.”

Arjuna sees the sun turn the color of blood and its lower rim touch the horizon. Krishna takes the white chariot deeper into the suchimukha, nearer and nearer the needle’s eye. Five maharathikas led by Karna ride between Arjuna and Jayadratha. Satyaki and Bheema are at Arjuna’s side now, holding off some of the Kaurava warriors. Inexorably, they forge closer, like two tigers hunting a ruru deer, or two hawks swooping down on a shred of flesh and, nothing else for it, Jayadratha raises his bow and fights, at least to keep his terror at bay.

Between them, battling as if for their own lives, Satyaki and Bheema hold up four of the kshatriyas who protect Jayadratha. But Karna looms before Arjuna, like a hill he must cross in a few moments. An ineffable duel breaks out between them. The astras they shoot at each other light up Kurukshetra brighter than the sun, which falls away like Arjuna’s very life. Half the saffron orb is already below the horizon and Karna still bars Arjuna’s way with a hindrance of arrows.

Krishna cries to Arjuna, “We cannot reach him before the sun sets. Night is about to fall, be ready with the Paasupata. Trust me now. When I tell you, kill Jayadratha!”

In faith, Arjuna invokes that weapon with its mantra, though he does not know what Krishna means. A moment later, darkness falls on Kurukshetra and a shout goes up from the Kaurava soldiers. Duryodhana’s roar rings above all the rest. “The sun has set!”

Karna lowers his bow. Arjuna shivers with soft fear in his chariot. He still waits breathlessly, the Paasupata ready in his hand. Jayadratha’s cry of relief echoes there, “The sun has set!”

All the fighting stops. The soldiers raise their eyes to the sky where a thousand stars glimmer down at them in the suddenly fallen night. Jayadratha lifts his head to gaze at the sky. As in a dream, Arjuna hears Krishna hiss at him, “Quick! Kill him now. The sun hasn’t set, I have hidden it for a moment.”

There is no time for doubt. In the dream, past Karna’s chariot, Arjuna sees Jayadratha’s bare neck and shoots the Paasupata at that throat. Just before the astra flames out, Krishna says, “His head mustn’t fall on the earth. Jayadratha’s father sits in sandhya vandana near Samantapanchaka. Let his son’s head fall in his lap!”

Jayadratha’s roar shatters the silence as Siva’s astra takes off his head like a bud from a flowering-tree. As the others spin round, they see a stream of arrows, silvery as moonlight, pluck up that head even as it falls, neatly severed from its neck. They see the spectral shafts carry Jayadratha’s head high above the battlefield and beyond its perimeter. A million voices roar, “Arjuna has broken his vow. He killed Jayadratha after the sun had set!”

Arjuna has no answer to this; but then, a divine Chakra glides majestically away from the last sliver of the setting sun. Night and its stars vanish and Kurukshetra is bathed in ruddy light again, the color of Jayadratha’s blood. Krishna says to Arjuna, “There was no other way. I hid the sun with the Sudar-shana.”

Arjuna’s face is wreathed in a smile. Bheema’s celebrant roars rock Kurukshetra and Satyaki roars with him. Duryodhana and his army stand rooted, hardly believing what their eyes have seen.

TWENTY-FOUR
THE WAR AT NIGHT 

Arjuna chants the mantra to withdraw the Paasupatastra. From afar, the silver shaft flies back into the Pandava’s quiver. There it vanishes and a breeze laden with the scents of a thousand different flowers blows across Kurukshetra. His eyes alight, because he knew how close they had come to failure, Krishna embraces Arjuna. The Kauravas troop numbly away from the place where Arjuna kept his vow, Duryodhana sobbing in rage.

Far away, across the field, Yudhishtira hears Bheema’s roar echoing, repeatedly and he cries, “It’s Bheema roaring in joy. Jayadratha is dead!”

As if to confirm this, golden blasts from the Devadatta and the Panchajanya are borne to them on the scented breeze. Yudhishtira is beside himself. Over and over, he cries, “Jayadratha is dead! Arjuna has killed Jayadratha!”

Meanwhile, Arjuna kneels before Krishna. The Pandava says, “This is your doing. Without you, Jayadratha would be alive and I would be preparing to kill myself. Krishna, without you I would never have crossed this sea of enemies and kept my word to my child. Now I see what your grace is; now I believe Yudhishtira will rule the world again. This is your doing, Lord, all of it!”

Krishna smiles. How different this Arjuna was from the kshatriya who was so full of doubt before the war began. Krishna says, “Look around Kurukshetra. Between Satyaki and you, you have razed seven aksauhinis; and the Kauravas were glad to sacrifice them, as long as Jayadratha lived and Arjuna died. How they will rue their losses now. I think our Satyaki has killed more men than you have today.”

The wind in their faces, they ride back through the ruins of the Kaurava army. With darkness, the first hyenas and jackals are already on the prowl among the dead. As they go, Arjuna asks, “Why did I have to carry Jayadratha’s head into his father’s lap? Krishna, why did I have to kill him with the Paa-supatastra?”

“Jayadratha was born after his father Brihatkshatra performed a tapasya. And when his son was born, he asked for a boon that he could be killed only by the greatest kshatriya on earth and with the greatest of all astras! You did not know this, but that is why you had to have the Paasupata. Brihatks-hatra’s tapasya was such that he could ask for another boon. And he asked that the man who caused his son’s head to fall on the earth would have his own head burst apart.”

Arjuna stares at his sarathy and Krishna nods in reply to his unspoken question. Earlier that evening, as the sun was setting, Brihatkshatra sat in dhyana at Samantapanchaka, not far from Kurukshetra. He sat in padmasana, his eyes shut, his breath stilled, lost in himself. But he was roiled by nightmarish anxiety this evening. Suddenly, some silver arrows flew out of the sky and dropped their grisly load in the meditating king’s lap. He sprang up with a cry and his son’s staring head fell on to the ground. Brihatkshatra had no time even to scream and his own head exploded.

Through the remains of the Kaurava army, Arjuna, Bheema and Satyaki ride back to Yudhishtira. He gives such a shout when he sees them. He runs to Arjuna, to embrace him fervently, while tears course down his face.

“I thank God for this! I thank God a thousand times that you are alive, Arjuna. And you, Krishna and my Bheema and you, heroic Satyaki.” One by one, he hugs the others as well. Then, taking Krishna’s hand, Yudhishtira cries, “My Lord, by your grace my brother has prevailed today. You decided Arjuna would keep his oath and then no power on earth could stop him!” And he sobs like a child before the Dark One.

A smiling Krishna says, “There you are mistaken: Jayadratha died because your eyes blazed in rage yesterday! The wrath of a good man, a serene man not easily moved to anger, is more potent than any other force on earth. And, also,” he puts an arm around Arjuna, “this brother of yours is the greatest archer in the world.”

Across Kurukshetra, in the Kaurava camp cloaked in gloom, Duryodhana sits alone in his tent. Today, he also realizes the truth of what Bheeshma and Drona told him, so often: that no one, not Drona, not Aswatthama, not even Karna, was Arjuna’s equal in battle. By himself, the Pandava had come through three vyuhas and he had killed Jayadratha. Now Bheeshma’s warnings and Krishna’s in Hastinapura, his uncle Vidura’s sage warnings, all return to Duryodhana in new resonance; as if only now he hears them clearly and understands what they tried to tell him. Duryodhana sits sobbing bitterly.

But the war is not over and not all his heroes are slain. Drona still lives and no one has really mastered the Acharya yet. Wearily, Duryodhana rises and goes to his guru’s tent. Drona is as calm as he was yesterday. Duryodhana walks in. He takes Drona’s hands and says, “Look what Arjuna has done to our army. So many kshatriyas have died for me. Bheeshma lies dying on his bed of arrows; and today, ah, today has been the most dreadful day. Satyaki and Arjuna have destroyed seven aksauhinis. Seven legions razed by two men!

All these kings came to fight for me and now they are dead and I am still alive. I am like a coward, Drona! A man who cannot fight for himself. And look how cruel fate leaves me alive to see my precious friends slain. Each one gave his life for me.” His voice is a whisper. “They paid for my sins, for my arrogance and my stubbornness. They paid with their lives. Not a hundred Aswamedhas can wash my sins from me. How will I face my sister Dussala? I swore to her husband he wouldn’t be harmed. Yesterday I was so confident that no man could break through the whole Kuru army and strike at the eye of the needle. Now not only Jayadratha but Jalasandha, Srutayus, Achutayus, Srutayudha, all once invincible, are dead. Sudakshina is dead, my lord, Vinda and Anuvinda, the wild and brave Alambusa. And fifty-six of my brothers.”

As he counts his dead, his tears stop flowing. Instead, his eyes turn red again. Duryodhana says, “I caused all their deaths and I have nothing left to live for. But I will avenge my friends before I die; I will kill all five Pandavas. I will kill every Panchala, or die trying. How else can I pacify the spirits of my dead? With his friends gone, Duryodhana’s place is not in this world any more, but in Devaloka with those who gave their lives for him. Acharya, I will not rest until I have avenged Jayadratha, Bhoorisravas and the rest, who were killed like animals on a hunt. Why should I wait for tomorrow? Even now, by darkness, I will ride for revenge!”

Drona is moved to see Duryodhana like that. He rises and says, “I always told you Arjuna is invincible, but there is no cure for that. I swear to you, Duryodhana, I will take such battle to the enemy, as they have not tasted yet. I will not take off this armor until all your enemies are dead or I myself am killed. Do not grieve, my prince, Drona will fight for you until no breath remains in his body. Aswatthama will fight beside me. Yes, let us not wait to begin our revenge, but go out straightaway. We will fight under the moon and the stars!”

Grimly, the two of them emerge from the brahmana’s tent. Drona goes to call his legions out again and Duryodhana to find Karna. Soon, the two friends stand at the edge of Kurukshetra, gazing across the starlit ruin of their army.

Duryodhana breathes, “Look at what Arjuna and Satyaki did to our army: more than half our men are dead. The earth drinks their blood, scavengers feast on their flesh. Look where Jayadratha’s headless body lies, with hyenas tearing at him. Karna, you know Arjuna is the Acharya’s favorite sishya; he loves Arjuna more than he does Aswatthama. I am convinced Drona let Arjuna into the padma vyuha; he could never have broken in otherwise. The brahmana swore to Jayadratha that he would protect him and instead he let the Pandava in like a leopard into a calf-pen. If only I had the sense to see what would happen, I would have sent Jayadratha back to his kingdom; and now we would be rejoicing that Arjuna had killed himself, instead of this terrible grief!

It is not only Jayadratha who is dead. Drona let Satyaki and Bheema in after Arjuna and thousands of our men lie still forever under the stars. Look at the arrows that protrude, ghastly, from their corpses: every shaft bears either Arjuna, Bheema or Satyaki’s name. And do you know how many brothers I have lost today? That beast has killed fifty-six of Dhritarashtra’s sons!”

A sob rends him. Karna says, “Grief clouds your judgement, Duryodhana; you must not even think this of Drona. I have watched him: he does everything he can for you. At his age, it is a miracle he fights like this. You must be grateful to him, not suspicious. Arjuna’s chariot is yoked to gandharva horses, Krishna is his sarathy. Tell me, who can stop him, when he comes like the wind? Arjuna did not fight Drona honorably. He dodged past him and the Acharya could do nothing. Arjuna cried, ‘You are not my enemy, but my guru!’ and flew by.

It isn’t only at Drona that you can point a finger. I was there and you yourself, Duryodhana. Could we stop Arjuna? It was fate, my friend and she is more powerful than all the armies of the earth. We can only do the best we can. The rest is in fate’s hands and, despite everything we do, fate has her way with us.”

Karna puts an arm around Duryodhana. “Come, let us go out and fight. That is all that matters: that we fight side by side, for each other! That, not even fate can take away from us. Look at all the kshatriyas who have died for you, Duryodhana. What more precious gift is there? How many men are there in this world for whom so many others will give their very lives? The armies are out again. We will fight as never before, for the sakes of those who lie dead for us on Kurukshetra. Beyond that, whether we will win or lose this war is not for us to decide.”

Even as they speak, conches sound across the dark field and Drona streams into battle with his legions. Like a ghostly Deva, swathed in starlight, the brahmana rides at the head of his legions. And now he is irresistible. Weapons clash across the field and sound like a burning forest of bamboo upon a mountain. Duryodhana joins his army, with Karna just behind him. The Kaurava fights in cold rage; his arrows are a river of death under the stars. Before the Pandava frontlines can adjust to the unaccustomed battle by night, Duryodhana has killed a thousand men. He is like an ancient Asura come to hunt by darkness.