THE MAHABHARATA: A Modern Rendering, Vol 2 (56 page)

The Kaurava army runs blindly when Karna loses his chariot. Arjuna is at them in the night. Roaring, Duryodhana charges him. Kripa cries to Aswatthama, “The king rides at Arjuna. Stop him!”

Quick as time, Aswatthama cuts off Duryodhana. “My lord! Am I dead that you must go to fight Arjuna? It is dark, Duryodhana. I beg you, watch the battle from behind our lines. You are our king, you mustn’t expose yourself like this.”

Duryodhana replies, “It seems I must fight myself, since your father and you are so full of love for the Pandavas! Drona lets our enemies through our lines, because they are his favorite sishyas. And of your valor, I have hardly seen a glimmer. Is it to please Yudhishtira that you stay your hand, or to win Draupadi’s favor? All those that were loyal to me have already lost their lives.”

Aswatthama remains calm. He says, “It is true we love the Pandavas. We love you also, or we would not be here at all; and when we fight, we leave our affections off the field. But you have a suspicious nature: whenever we lose a day, you turn accusingly on us. Calm yourself, Duryodhana; Drona and I, Kripa, Karna, Shalya and Kritavarman are all here with you and we shall prevail. Don’t doubt me, I swear I will fight for you until there is no breath left in this body.”

Duryodhana cries, “Then ride at them, Aswatthama! Show me your courage tonight.”

Aswatthama sweeps at the Pandava army like a natural calamity
¹
. They run from him any way they can, but he consumes them with many flames by starlight. Suddenly, another kshatriya looms out of the night to challenge him. Through the panicstricken Pandava soldiers, Dhrishtadyumna flies at him.

The fire-prince, whose sons Aswatthama killed today, cries, “It is easy to kill young boys, who are not your equals. Come, coward, try me!”

The hatred between the two is as deep as their fathers’ is. Aswatthama is frantic to kill Dhrishtadyumna: he knows he can save Drona’s life if he does. He roars back, “The Panchala weaklings are mine to kill! Stand and fight, if you dare and I will send you after your sons to Yama.”

They battle with arrows and words sharper than arrows. But the moment belongs to Aswatthama. He cracks Dhrishtadyumna’s bow, cuts down his horses and kills the soldiers who guard his back. The Senapati of the Pandava army flees in another chariot, while the Kaurava army breaks into wild cheers. It seems the night belongs to Drona’s son; he is tameless under the stars.

Meanwhile, Duryodhana has not left the field: he seeks Yudhishtira out, roaring his name in the dark. But when he nears the eldest Pandava, Bheema challenges him. Anxious for the Kaurava’s safety, Drona, Aswatthama and some others fly to his side; while, on the other part, all the Pandavas appear around Bheema. Field and sky are lit by astras.

Satyaki, who ranges Kurukshetra again, cries to his sarathy, “Ride at Somadatta, I will kill him tonight!”

Somadatta roars to see Satyaki again. He would avenge himself on the Yadava, not just for the old humiliation by his grandfather, but now, more, for the death of Bhoorisravas. Satyaki knows he must kill this Kuru, or he will hunt him down some day. They fight without a word, silent as the night beyond, each knowing this duel is for his life. Satyaki has time on his side and presses Somadatta hard, until he saps the older man’s strength. Panting, Somadatta fights on, but finds it harder and harder. Somadatta’s vision grows blurred; resignation comes over his sad heart. Then, Satyaki finds that heart with an arrow that steals past the old man’s defenses. Somadatta falls with a roar, dead.

Ten Kaurava warriors converge on Satyaki, Drona among them. Yudhishtira rides at Drona. The brahmana turns, growling, on the Pandava king. Around them, the general carnage continues and the screams of the dying meld with the howling of the jackal-packs. Kurukshetra is an immense slaughterhouse. It seems the earth has plunged deep into hell. And, indeed, this war marks the ending of an age. The dwapara yuga sets with the war on Kurukshetra and the kali yuga rises already on time’s horizon: monstrous and malignant, eager to be loosed upon the earth. But Krishna is still in the world and as long as he is, the sinister kali dare not arrive.

The warriors of the two armies are hardly aware of the profound transformation that is afoot. They do not realize why the denizens of night, the jackals, wolves, wild-dogs, hyenas and pisachas, too, are abroad in such numbers. Butchering one another, the kshatriyas are too absorbed in the night’s bloody ritual, to notice the macabre Spirit of the kali yuga that is almost upon them; or that their own dominion over the earth nears its end. They have no sense of the distant consequences of the massacre on Kurukshetra. The moment absorbs them completely, the mindless sacrifice of the night.

Under the sorrowing stars, no bond is sacred. Guru and sishya attack each other. Yudhishtira fells Drona in the dark; the master jumps up again and looses a keening vayavyastra at his student. Just in time, the Pandava cuts down the tempestuous weapon with a vayavya of his own.

Krishna rides up anxiously to Yudhishtira and cries, “Why do you face the Acharya so often? He is dangerous. Dhrishtadyumna is the one for Drona, leave the brahmana to him. A king should fight a king. Look where Bheema battles Duryodhana. Go and join him, that is where you should be.”

The darkness on Kurukshetra is a night of the soul. That field is swathed in such terror, in such a blindness of the spirit, that frequently soldiers from the same side kill each other, mistaking one another for the enemy. The torches are few and far between and far from adequate to light up a war as great as this one. Much of the fighting is done with the loud yelling of names and armies to distinguish comrade from foe in the pitched night. Seeing how their soldiers panic in the dark and kill each other in the fearful confusion, Duryodhana and Drona confer. They have lost so many men today that they cannot hope to win the war by superior numbers any more. The Pandavas may well have more men left alive.

Duryodhana roars to his legions, “Put down your weapons! You are killing our own soldiers. Put down your weapons and every man light a torch for the maharathikas to fight by.”

The Kaurava soldiers gladly obey their king. At the edge of the field, rushlights and brands are lit and passed on, hand to hand, until every tenth man holds a flame over his head. On the other side, the exhausted Pandava soldiers follow their enemies’ example and soon Kurukshetra is wonderfully lit up with thousands and thousands of flaming torches: like some unimaginable yagnashala for the huge midnight sacrifice. The fighting begins again, but now only chariot-mounted kshatriyas battle, while footsoldiers light up the darkness so they can see their antagonists clearly.

A hundred duels flare up by marvelous torchlight and the dharma kshetra is such a spectacle!
²
Swords, red with blood, make brilliant arcs. Duryodhana cries to his warriors, “Drona will consume the enemy and no one but Dhrishtadyumna can stop him. Kritavarman, you stay close beside the Acharya on his right and you, O Shalya, guard his left side. At any cost, Drona must not face Dhrishtadyumna alone. The rest you leave to him!”

Satyaki seems to have found second wind and fights as if he has begun a new day. A king called Bhoori rashly challenges the Yadava and finds immediate death. Aswatthama burns like a thousand torches himself. Once more, he strikes Ghatotkacha senseless in his chariot. Duryodhana and Bheema duel briefly. Bheema smashes the bow in his cousin’s hands and Duryodhana’s sarathy wisely rides away from that most dangerous enemy.

Sahadeva rides against Karna and fights lustrously; but Karna is a warrior of another order. The encounter doesn’t last long, before he kills Sahadeva’s horses and snaps his bow. Seizing up a sword, Sahadeva leaps from his useless chariot. But even as he runs at Karna, that grand marksman smashes the blade in the Pandava’s hand. Sahadeva wields his mace, only to have it struck into dust. Thinking his death has arrived, Madri’s son wrenches his chariot-wheel free and runs at his sneering enemy. Karna strikes the spokes from the wheel with five amazing arrows; he breaks its rim with a sixth. Sahadeva stands panting and helpless, not ten feet from Karna. Determined to die unbowed, the youngest Pandava stands with his handsome head thrown back, his eyes raking his conqueror.

Karna laughs. Slowly, he brings his chariot nearer the trembling prince. He prods his young antagonist with the tip of his bow. Grinning, he says, “You mustn’t fight your betters, boy. Look there, at your brother Arjuna. Now, he is a kshatriya; go and hide behind him, little one, or else go home.”

With a last mocking laugh and such an inscrutable look in his eyes, Karna rides off leaving Sahadeva dazed that this enemy had spared his life. Shaking his head, he walks away toward the nearby Panchala soldiers, who have witnessed the miracle.

All around, duels rage. Shalya overcomes Virata, Arjuna a king called Ala and Acharya Kripa puts Shikhandi to flight. These are honorable contentions and a helpless enemy is never slain. At midnight, by the wonderful sea of torches, the war puts on a less bestial face. Nakula and Shakuni meet and the Pandava allows the treacherous Gandhara no chance to use any sorcery against him. He cuts down Shakuni’s banner and strikes him down to his chariot-floor.

Dhrishtadyumna finds Drona by torchlight. A brief encounter sparks up between them, but, quickly, Shalya and Kritavarman intervene. Infected by their kshatriyas’ valor, the common soldiers of both armies begin to fight again: as if war is an irresistible temptation and the brush with death too sweet to stay away from. Karna has waited just for this; now he can kill a thousand men. He is terrible past describing at the midnight hour. He is a black sun on Kurukshetra, a hungry maw to Yama’s realm.

For the Pandavas there is a kshatriya as glorious as Karna is. Wherever he goes, all heads turn to watch him. Satyaki the Yadava is so handsome he makes even his enemies wish they were women! There are those who die by his arrows, crying out his name, rapturous that he and no other has killed them. As if drawn together by fate, this night, Karna and Satyaki come face to face on Kurukshetra.

They do not fight long with common shafts. Astras of fire, water, wind and air light up the sky into which a moon rises shyly now, as if in fear of the war below. Those who die by darkness are spirited away to different worlds than those who find their end under the sun. It is inauspicious to die at night. But who thinks of such things, while the war rages?

Karna hears loud screaming among his legions, he hears the thunder of the Gandiva. Leaving Satyaki in the midst of their duel, Karna seeks out Duryodhana. He says to the Kaurava, “Do you hear the song of the Gandiva? Do you hear our men scream? I cannot ride against Arjuna yet. I have Satyaki to kill first, the sishya before the guru. Hold the Pandava up somehow, until I rid us of the Yadava. Then Arjuna will find death by his father’s Shakti and, Duryodhana, the world will be yours.”

Duryodhana and Shakuni ride toward Arjuna and Karna back at Satyaki: to fight on in the heart of the night. Fearing for him, the Pandavas and Dhrishtadyumna stream forward around Satyaki and on the other side, Drona and Aswatthama ride to Karna. The sky is lit by jagged bolts of astras. Fighting as never before, Karna dominates Kurukshetra: in majestic inspiration, he smashes Dhrish-tadyumna’s bow and his chariot, leaving the Panchala breathless.

Karna is aflame and the Pandava soldiers fly from him. They don’t care who else they face, as long as it is not him. Kunti’s eldest son rules Kurukshetra. Not only has he killed thousands, this night of torches, he has brought such fear to the enemy that Pandava soldiers cry out when the breeze brushes their faces, thinking it is Karna. Yudhishtira is terrified, as he helplessly watches the brother he does not know raze his army.

Arjuna cries to his dark sarathy, “Look at Yudhishtira, Krishna. He trembles like a child and hardly hopes we will last the night against Karna. I never knew this evil one could fight like this! It seems only now he truly reveals himself; who can stand before him tonight? I must stop him, Krishna. Come, let us ride against the sutaputra.”

But Krishna knows about the Shakti Indra gave Karna. He knows that not even Arjuna can resist that weapon. And as Karna is now, a pure kshatriya, alight on Kurukshetra, he will hardly think of Arjuna as his brother, if he dares face him. Karna would use the Shakti against the Pandava and everything would be lost. His cause deeper than anyone else can fathom, his mission in the world past common understanding, the Avatara knows that one precious life must be sacrificed to save Arjuna’s. Arjuna must be kept safe at any cost: he is the key to this war; only he can kill Karna. Karna grows in stature with every life he takes. The earlier valor of Satyaki and Arjuna pales before the way the lord of Anga rages now. After seeing Karna tonight, who could say that Arjuna is the greatest archer in the world? Karna blazes on Kurukshetra, the night belongs just to him.

Krishna says softly, “There are only two warriors on our side who can stand against Karna tonight. You are one, Arjuna and the other is Ghatotkacha. Night makes him stronger; he can kill anyone by darkness. Look where Drona stalks Yudhishtira again, stealthily through the corpses with which Karna strews the field. If the subtle brahmana takes your brother, all your valor, all the heroism of your brothers and your friends, all the lives of those that have died for you will have been in vain. Drona hunts like the night leopard and Yudhishtira is the calf he is after. Your first dharma is to protect your brother. Send Ghatotkacha out against Karna and let us ride to Yudhishtira’s side.”

Arjuna wonders at the look in Krishna’s eye. Was it a trick of the torches, or did he see a tear in those black depths? But he cannot ignore his sarathy’s warning. Arjuna summons Ghatotkacha with a thought. In a moment, the rakshasa stands before them, his eyes glowing.