Stories of the Great Bharata - A Retelling

Arc 2 - Go-Harana Parva Chapter 5 - Arjuna Fights the Kuru Army I

Vaiśampāyana said:

Then Asvatthāman, son of Droṇa, arose and, stern of brow, rebuked Karṇa and those who gloried in rash words. With clear voice he set before the chiefs a mirror of shame and duty, condemning boastful pride and recalling the darker arts by which kingdoms had been won. In measured quatrains he spoke, and the narrator follows each lofty utterance with a plain remark, that the counsel may be weighed by kings and men alike.

“Boast not, O Radheya, ere the kine be thine;

The herd yet stands unshorn, the border not passed.

True heroes burn like fire, yet burn in silence—

The sun gives light, yet utters no proud boast.”

Vaiśampāyana explained:

Asvatthāman reproved Karṇa’s vaunting: glory that speaks before it is earned is hollow. The warrior who boasts while the prey lies unwon reveals more of his temper than of his triumph. True strength is manifest in deed, not in speech.

“The world has orders fixed by the Self-existent—

Brahmin to sacrifice, Kshatriya to wield the bow.

He who gains a realm by dice and guile

Is like a vendor of meat that cheats for gain.”

Vaiśampāyana explained:

He then invoked dharma’s divisions: each varṇa has its ordained work. To win a kingdom through fraud and dice—by the art of the gambler and the trickster—is base; the Kshatriya’s honour is earned on the field, not in an assembly of deceit. Asvatthāman reminded them of the ignominy of Duryodhana’s gain and of the stain it cast upon their house.

“What triumph hast thou over Dhananjaya,

O robber of fortune, that thou shouldst vaunt?

When Draupadī was dragged with but one cloth,

the sandal-root of the Pandavas was cut—remember this!”

Vaiśampāyana explained:

He named the wrongs—Draupadī’s humiliation, the losing of rightful sway—and asked: where are the victories that justify such boast? Karṇa’s wealth and victories, gained in partnership with deceit, do not stand as proofs against the single, radiant deeds of Arjuna.

“Let Sakuni, whose dice made crowns to sway,

try now his cunning in the field if he dare;

But Gandiva takes no dice—its shafts blaze,

and where they fall, the might of kings is spent.”

Vaiśampāyana explained:

Asvatthāman’s voice was contemptuous of the notion that the arts of gambling could be transposed to open warfare. The Gandiva is not a thing of chance; it pours out disciplined death. If they would meet Partha, they must meet him with arms that match his, not with schemes fit only for courts and dice-boards.

“He who would meet Arjuna must be fit of arm—

Even gods, men say, would stagger before his hand.

If thou wouldst now engage, O sons of Dhṛtarāṣṭra,

let it be for the king of Matsya, if indeed he comes.”

Vaiśampāyana explained:

Finally Asvatthāman counseled restraint: they should fight the cause for which they had marched—the seizure of the kine and the aid to their allies—yet not seek to provoke single combat with Arjuna unless they were prepared in truth. He refused to take Arjuna alone, urging that any effort against the son of Kuntī must be collective and matched by equal skill; otherwise it would be folly.

Vaiśampāyana continued:

Thus spoke Asvatthāman—stern, practical, and bitter with memory of past shame—warning the Kurus that rash boasting and tricks of the dice would avail nothing against the calm radiance of Partha’s bow.

Vaiśampāyana said:

Then Bhīṣma, son of Śāntanu, grandsire of the Kurus, spoke with calm authority. He weighed the words of Droṇa’s son, of Kr̥pa, and of Karṇa, and brought them into balance, seeking not division but unity among the Kuru chiefs.

Bhīṣma said:

“Well speaks the son of Droṇa, well too doth Kr̥pa advise;

And Karṇa, for duty’s sake, craves war, as befits a Kṣatriya’s hand.

Yet time and place now press us hard—

We must fight, for the foe stands at our gates.”

Vaiśampāyana explained:

The grandsire said that no man of wisdom could fault the preceptor, for even the learned are bewildered when facing five adversaries radiant as suns—heroes who had endured adversity and now emerged stronger. Karṇa’s words, though sharp, were meant only to raise the spirit of the army. He therefore urged Droṇa’s son to forgive, and Kr̥pa too, for this was no hour for quarrel. Disunion, said Bhīṣma, is the worst calamity for an army. He praised Droṇa and Aśvatthāman, declaring that in them shone the Brahma-weapon and the Vedas united—an unmatched mastery, never before seen save in Jamadagni himself.

Bhīṣma said:

“As beauty clings to the moon’s fair face,

So do the Vedas and Brahma’s might in you abide.

Therefore forgive, O son of Droṇa, unite with us—

For Arjuna, son of Indra, stands against us now.”

Then Aśvatthāman, abating his wrath, answered the grandsire:

“O bull among men, thy words are just,

Yet the preceptor, angered, spoke of Arjuna’s light.

The virtues of an enemy may rightly be praised,

And a preceptor’s faults, too, may be told by disciples.”

Thus he yielded ground, agreeing that truth is not diminished when even an enemy’s greatness is acknowledged.

Then Duryodhana, eager to heal the breach, said:

“Let the preceptor grant forgiveness,

Let peace return among the lords of war.

If the master stands with us,

Our work is already half accomplished.”

Vaiśampāyana continued:

So saying, Duryodhana, assisted by Karṇa and Kr̥pa, together with the noble grandsire, pacified Droṇa.

Then Droṇa himself, appeased, addressed the chiefs with measured counsel:

Droṇa said:

“Let careful guard be set, that Partha

may not approach Duryodhana’s car.

For through rashness or unripe judgment

the prince might fall captive to the foe.

Arjuna has not broken exile before its time,

Yet today he will not forgive.

He comes, not for kine alone, but wrath enflamed—

Therefore array our ranks with foresight.”

Vaiśampāyana explained:

Droṇa declared that while Arjuna’s exile was indeed not broken, still he would not pardon their act today. For having recovered the kine, he would also strike at Dhṛtarāṣṭra’s son if unguarded. Thus the preceptor urged: let Bhīṣma, wise and steadfast, say truly what is to be done, and let the leaders unite their might, for the foe they faced was none less than the son of Indra himself.

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Vaiśampāyana said:

Then Bhīṣma, son of Śāntanu, spake again, unfolding the wheel of time itself to the Kuru chiefs, to make clear that the vow of the sons of Pāṇḍu had indeed run its course.

Bhīṣma said:

“Time revolves with wheeling parts—

Kalās, Kāṣṭhās, Muhūrtas, days;

Fortnights, months, and circling years,

With stars and planets, seasons’ ways.

By excess and wandering of the heavens,

Two months are added in every five;

Thus in thirteen years the count is full—

Five months and twelve nights arrive.

What they promised, they have fulfilled,

The sons of Pāṇḍu swerved not from truth.

Bound by dharma, guided by Yudhishṭhira,

Their vow is whole, their virtue proof.

They would rather embrace their death

Than deviate from righteous way.

Yet when their hour of claim is come,

Not even Indra shall bar their sway.”

Vaiśampāyana explained:

Bhīṣma declared that the reckoning of time proved Arjuna’s reappearance lawful. The sons of Prithā, steadfast in dharma, would never cheat their word. They endured exile when they might have seized the throne, but preferred virtue to deceit. To oppose them now was to oppose destiny itself; yet oppose them they must, for war was certain when Partha stood armed before them.

He warned the king that battle never promises certainty: in every fight there is both victory and defeat, fortune and loss. Therefore, let arrangements be made swiftly and in righteous order, for Dhanañjaya was at hand.

Duryodhana, proud and unyielding, answered his grandsire:

“Never will I restore the kingdom,

Never yield to the sons of Pāṇḍu.

Let every preparation be made for war,

Delay is death, resolve our shield.”

Then Bhīṣma, still calm, spoke counsel for the field:

“If battle be thy vow, then hear me now:

Let prudence guard the Kuru line.

One fourth of the host lead to the capital,

One fourth escort the kine.

The half remaining we shall hold—

Droṇa, Karṇa, Aśvatthāman, Kr̥pa and I.

Together we’ll resist Vibhatsu’s storm,

As riverbanks withstand the surging tide.”

Vaiśampāyana said:

These words, uttered by the high-souled Bhīṣma, pleased the chiefs. The king of the Kurus acted accordingly: he sent Duryodhana back with a quarter of the army, dispatched another quarter to guard the herds, and held half to stand in battle array.

Then the grandsire marshaled the host:

He placed Droṇa in the center, firm as the sun in mid-sky.

He set Aśvatthāman on the left, blazing with youthful fire.

Kr̥pa, son of Śaradwat, he stationed on the right, wise and steady as dharma’s balance.

Karna, clad in mail, he placed at the van, the spear-point of the host.

And himself he stood in the rear, guarding the army’s back as a mountain shields the valley.

Thus arrayed, the Kurus braced themselves to meet the ape-bannered son of Indra.

Vaiśampāyana said:

After the Kauravas had arrayed themselves in order of battle, Arjuna, filling the quarters with the roar of his car, advanced swiftly upon them. The Kurus beheld afar his ape-banner streaming, heard the thunder of wheels and the twang of the Gāṇḍīva stretched again and again.

Then Droṇa, gazing upon that dread vision, spake to the Kuru chiefs:

“That, shining like flame in the distance,

is the banner of Partha.

That is the ape that roars so frightfully,

striking terror into the host.

Upon that noble car stands the wielder of the Gāṇḍīva,

its twang as loud as Indra’s bolt.

See—two shafts fall at my feet,

two more whisper past my ears.

Thus doth he salute his preceptor,

this son of Pṛthā, wise and beloved,

who after long years of exile returns,

blazing with beauty like the sacrificial fire.”

Vaiśampāyana said:

Beholding the Kurus ready for battle, Arjuna turned to Uttara, son of Virāṭa, and said in words suited to the hour:

“O charioteer, restrain the steeds at a point from which my arrows may strike. Let me search amidst this array for that vile wretch of the Kuru race. Passing by Bhīṣma, Droṇa, his son, Kr̥pa, and Karṇa, I seek Suyodhana. For when the head is struck, the body falls. There must I go, for there the battle bears fruit. Defeating him, I shall return, driving before me the rescued kine.”

Thus addressed, the prince of Matsya pulled hard at the reins and turned the steeds from the thick array of Kuru warriors, urging them southwards where Duryodhana fled with the cattle.

But Kr̥pa, ever watchful, saw Arjuna’s intent and warned his comrades:

“Vibhatsu will not tarry afar,

he speeds to strike at the king himself.

Let us fall upon his flanks with haste,

for none can meet him unassisted.

Neither Indra of a thousand eyes,

nor Kṛṣṇa the son of Devakī,

save they alone, could bear the storm

when Pārtha’s wrath is kindled.”

Vaiśampāyana said:

Meanwhile Arjuna rushed upon that division where the Kuru prince stood. He proclaimed his name aloud, and in a moment the sky and earth were filled with arrows thick as locusts. The soldiers, confounded, neither advanced nor fled, for the torrent of shafts blinded their eyes. Seeing his light-handed mastery, even the foe admired him in secret.

Then Arjuna blew his mighty conch, its blare making the hair of enemies bristle in dread. He twanged the Gāṇḍīva so that the creatures upon his banner roared with frightful voice.

At the blast of the conch,

at the thunder of wheels,

at the bowstring’s crash,

at the ape-banner’s roar—

the earth herself shook.

Terrified, the kine shook their tails and lowed together; then they turned back from the southern road, retracing their steps under the shadow of Arjuna’s might.

Vaiśampāyana said:

Having shattered the Kuru host and turned back the kine, Arjuna, the wielder of the Gāṇḍīva, pressed on towards Duryodhana, eager for combat. The Kurus, seeing the rescued herds already rushing homeward towards Matsya’s city, deemed Kiritin to have achieved his purpose. Yet before he reached the prince, the foremost warriors of the Bharata race closed around him like lions hemming a forest king.

Then Arjuna, addressing Uttara, spoke with fierce joy:

“Urge on these steeds of white, decked in golden harness, to the place where Suyodhana stands. Karṇa, puffed with pride under his patron’s shadow, craves a fight with me. Let the Suta’s son behold the might he so eagerly invokes.”

Thus spurred, the steeds burst through the car-array like wind through reeds, bearing Partha into the thick of battle. Then rushed upon him Chitrasena, Saṅgramajit, Śatruhan, and Jaya—seeking to shield Karṇa. Inflamed with wrath, Arjuna poured shafts upon them like a summer fire consuming a forest.

Arrows flew like fiery tongues,

shafts fell like burning rain;

the array cracked like dry bamboo,

and heroes trembled, struck with pain.

Vikarna then advanced, loosing a torrent of long shafts. But Arjuna cut down his bow and flagstaff in a flash; and the son of Dhṛtarāṣṭra, his pride wounded, turned his car in flight. Next came king Śatruntapa, who smote Partha with showers thick as storm; but Arjuna pierced him back with five shafts, slew his driver with ten more, and with a keen arrow struck his heart. The monarch fell lifeless, like a tree torn from the cliff by the gale.

The field grew red with blood,

the Kurus wailed aloud;

like elephants pierced with flame,

heroes toppled to the ground.

Then the mighty Saṅgramajit’s steeds were slain, his head cut off by a crescent-headed shaft. Seeing his brother fall, Karṇa, son of Vikartana, rushed roaring against Arjuna like a tusked elephant against a lion. He pierced Arjuna and his steeds with twelve shafts, smote Uttara on the hand, and pressed in with fury. But Arjuna met him as Garuḍa swoops upon a serpent. The armies held back to witness the clash, for both were foremost in skill and strength.

Then Partha, wrathful, loosed countless shafts that darkened the sky. Horses, elephants, and warriors of the Kurus fell pierced, and the field was filled with lamentation. Yet Karṇa, countering arrow with arrow, emerged visible again, his bowstring thundering like kettle-drums, the Kurus roaring in applause.

The Gandīva twanged like the crash of clouds,

the ape-banner roared from its lofty staff.

The earth shook with conch and wheel and cry,

while Karṇa bellowed in answer,

and the clash grew fierce as storm against storm.

Then both warriors poured their wrath: Karṇa like a rain-cloud with arrows as rain, Arjuna like the blazing sun with rays of fire. Shafts flew thick as swarming bees, veiling them both in darkness; they shone to the eye like the moon and sun hidden by storm-clouds.

But Arjuna, lion-hearted, drew keen crescent-headed arrows and smote Karṇa in every limb—arms, thighs, brow, and breast—each shaft striking with thunderbolt’s fury. Mangled and bloodied, pierced in all his vital parts, the son of the Suta quailed. Unable to endure the storm, Karṇa turned his car from the van of battle, fleeing like an elephant vanquished by a stronger beast.

Thus fell the pride of Vikartana’s son,

driven back before the wrath of Pārtha.

The Kurus wailed, their host dismayed—

for the lion of the Pāṇḍavas raged unopposed.

Vaiśampāyana said:

After the son of Rādhā had fled the field, other warriors, headed by Duryodhana, rushed upon Arjuna with their divisions. Like the shore resisting the sea’s surge, Pārtha withstood the tumult of that countless host. Wielding the Gāṇḍīva, he shot celestial weapons unceasingly, covering the sky with shafts as the sun covers the earth with rays.

His arrows fell like rays of fire,

his bow resounded louder than thunder.

No warrior, mounted or on foot,

escaped without wound upon his frame.

So swift was his light-handedness, so flawless the guidance of his steeds by Uttara, so ceaseless the coursing of his arrows, that men beheld in him the fire of dissolution blazing forth to consume all creation. None could gaze long upon him, radiant as a sunlit flame, for his wrath was like Agni fed with clarified butter.

The ranks of the Kurus, pierced and mangled, seemed like dark clouds reddened by the solar rays, or like groves of flowering aśoka shaken to the ground. Flags and umbrellas torn by shafts whirled away upon the wind; steeds fled riderless; elephants, struck in their tender parts, fell in heaps like mountains collapsing.

As fire devours forest at yuga’s end,

as Vāsuki stirs the ocean’s waves,

so Pārtha ranged the field, scattering hosts,

his bowstring louder than all earthly sound.

Elephants pierced shone like black clouds coruscating with lightning. Arjuna’s bow, bent to a circle without pause, sent shafts that never missed their aim, as the eye never lingers on what is unlovely. Where he moved, the path opened of itself, like forest giving way before the tread of elephants. The soldiers, seeing him, thought Indra himself fought beside him, or Death had taken Arjuna’s form to annihilate the world.

Then he loosed his arrows upon the chiefs: seventy-three at Droṇa, ten at Duḥsaha, eight at Droṇa’s son, twelve at Duḥśāsana, three at Kr̥pa, and a hundred at Duryodhana. At Bhīṣma he sped his shafts, and at Karṇa he hurled a barbed arrow that struck his ear, slaying also his horses, driver, and car. The host supporting Karṇa broke, and fear spread like fire in dry grass.

At this, Uttara, beholding the mighty carnage and eager to know his master’s will, asked:

“O Partha, thou standest on this car with me as thy charioteer. Tell me, lord—towards which division shall I drive thee?”

Then Arjuna, smiling, named the chiefs one by one:

“Yonder warrior clad in tiger-skin,

on a car with a blue flag and red steeds,

is Kr̥pa, son of Śaradwat.

There must thou drive me first.

That banner with golden water-pot marks Droṇa,

my revered preceptor, foremost of bowmen.

Circumambulate him with reverence;

if he strikes me first, then only shall I return his blow.

By Droṇa’s side is his son Aśvatthāman,

whose flag bears the device of a bow.

He too must be honored as a teacher;

stay thy steeds and let us bow before him.

There stands Duryodhana, clad in golden mail,

his flag bearing an elephant in gold,

guarded by a third of the host.

Skilled in lightness of hand,

he is chief among Droṇa’s disciples.

To him will I show my greater swiftness.

Be wary when we face Karṇa,

whose banner shows a stout elephant-rope.

He always seeks me for combat,

and his tongue is as sharp as his arrows.

And last, behold that blue flag with five stars and a sun,

where the warrior clad in golden mail stands,

umbrella of white held above his helm.

That is Bhīṣma, our grandsire, son of Śāntanu,

partial to Duryodhana, honored like a god.

Let us face him at the end,

for he may prove the greatest barrier to our course.”

Vaiśampāyana said:

Thus instructed, Virāṭa’s son guided the ape-bannered car swiftly and with reverence towards Kr̥pa, eager to behold the prowess of Pārtha in combat.