novelraw Arc 5 – Ulūka Agamana Parva - Chapter 11 - The Army Camps are Made
Arc 5 – Ulūka Agamana Parva - Chapter 11 - The Army Camps are Made
Vaiśaṁpāyana said:
When dawn had washed the camp with light, the sons of Pāṇḍu gathered about their eldest, and Yudhiṣṭhira, mindful of counsel and of dread alike, drew his brethren close and spoke to them in private of that morning’s words which had reached his ear from the Kuru host.
“O brothers,” quoth he, “our spies tell me what was placed before us at early dawn. Duryodhana asked Gāṅgā’s son in council, ‘In what time canst thou annihilate our host?’ Bhīṣma answered with a man’s measure; Drona and Kripa likewise. Karṇa boldly named five days; Asvatthāman vowed ten nights. Therefore I ask thee, O Arjuna, my heart’s pillar—what sayest thou? In what time, with Vasudeva at thy side, canst thou bring this army to naught?”
Then Arjuna, the son of Pāṇḍu, called Dhananjaya, lifted his eyes to Vāsudeva and spoke with calm fire, his words like arrows loosed with measured skill.
“These chiefs are mighty—Bhīṣma, Drona, Kripa—wise in war and fierce in fight;
With them, no easy doom I cast by boast alone.
Yet hear, O king: by Vasudeva’s friendship and my hand united,
The worlds themselves might falter at our coming.
A weapon once I learned from Mahādeva—awful, last of arms—
Given when I met the Lord in guise of hunter on the hill;
That terrible astra abides with me yet; unknown to Bhīṣma, unknown to Drona,
Unknown to Kripa’s son or Karṇa’s high device.
But mark this truth: celestial arms are not fit for slaying common men.
We shall meet our foes in open fight, with skill and honour as our law.
Around us stand heroes innumerable—Śikhaṇḍin, Yuyudhana, Dhr̥ṣṭadyumna, Bhīma, the Twins,
Yudhamanyu, Uttamaujas, Virāta, and Drupada—warriors equal in valour to Bhīṣma and Drona.
With such allies, and with Vasudeva’s counsel, I say to thee plainly: fear need not lodge in thy breast; for we too are armoured with heaven’s favour.”*
Vaiśaṁpāyana said:
Thus did Arjuna speak—his words part oath, part counsel. He invoked not mere boasting but a sober inventory of strength: the marvel of a secret weapon given by Śiva, the incomparable aid of Vāsudeva, and a roll of allies whose names were banners of assurance. In calling the celestial astra unfit for slaughter of ordinary men, he reminded his brothers of a moral restraint that governed the use of dread powers—an admonition both tactical and dhārmic.
Arjuna claimed that with Krishna at his counsels he need fear no boastful timetable. He admitted the existence of a terrifying weapon (a boon received in battle with Mahādeva), but he tempered that claim with the rule that such weapons are not to be used against common soldiery; victory, he said, would come by fair combat and by the skill and unity of the Pāṇḍava champions. His catalogue of allies was both reassurance and strategy—each name he spoke was a post in the fortress of their resolve.
So the brothers took heart at these words, for Arjuna’s speech carried both the calm of scripture and the sharpened edge of one who has seen the face of war and knows its limits.
Vaiśaṁpāyana said:
When the next dawn broke clear and radiant, not a cloud marred the sky. The earth itself seemed to hold its breath, awaiting the clash of destinies. Then, urged by Dhṛtarāṣṭra’s son, the kings of the earth—each glittering with crown and armour—set forth toward Kurukṣetra, the field of righteous war.
Having bathed in sacred waters and purified themselves by rites, they adorned their bodies with garlands and donned robes white as moonlight. Libations were poured into the fire, Brahmanas uttered benedictions, and the conch-shells of the Kurus echoed through the plains like thunder before the storm. Every warrior took up his bow, every standard was raised high, each marked with the proud emblem of his house—golden lions, bulls, serpents, suns, and flaming discs—fluttering like banners of destiny itself.
They were men of Vedic learning, generous and vowed to noble conduct, but now their vows had turned to steel. They came strong in faith and stronger in wrath, each trusting in the valour of the others, bound by one grim purpose—to conquer or die and win the highest heavens through battle.
The drums rolled out like storming seas,
The conches roared in answering keys;
And chariots bright as dawn’s first fire
Swept forth in ranks of kingly ire.
First came the brothers Vinda and Anuvinda of Avanti, bold as tigers; and with them the Kekayas and the venerable Vāhlikas, their banners glinting like gold in the sun. At their head rode Drona, the son of Bharadvāja, white-haired and lion-eyed, his chariot wheels creaking beneath the weight of celestial weapons.
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Behind him followed Aśvatthāman, his fierce son, and the venerable Bhīṣma, son of Śāntanu and Gaṅgā, gleaming like the sun itself. There came also Jayadratha, lord of the Sindhus, and the kings of the southern and western seas, the chiefs of the hills and plateaus, and Śakuni, the cunning ruler of the Gandhāras.
The Śakas, Yavanas, Kirātas, Śivis, and Vasatis advanced in wild splendour—strange tongues, fierce banners, and martial cries mingling in a single tide of sound. This was the second division, a wave of the world’s power moving upon the plain.
Then in the rear marched Kṛtavarman of the Bhojas, the grim Trigarta lord with his brothers, and Duryodhana himself surrounded by his hundred kin—each in golden mail, each bearing the mark of Kuru’s pride. Around him moved mighty warriors: Śala, Bhūriśravā, Śalya, and Vṛhadratha of Kosala, a host that darkened the very earth with its array.
When all had taken their stations at the far end of Kurukṣetra, Duryodhana ordered his encampment to rise—a shining city of war.
“Raise me a Hastināpura here,”
he cried, “that none may know the one from the other.”
So the camp stretched for five yojanas—pavilions as white as moonlit clouds, banners rippling like waves upon a silver sea. Golden arches marked the entrances; broad streets ran between the tents like rivers of silk. Each monarch found his own royal pavilion, set high and guarded like a fortress, with halls for counsel and platforms for sacrifice.
The air was rich with the scent of sandal and ghee; braziers smoked with offering fires; garlands hung upon the tent poles; elephants stood in long lines like black mountains; horses champed and neighed like restless wind.
Provision flowed like a king’s generosity—grain for the soldiers, fruits and sweets for the princes, fodder for the beasts. Duryodhana, mindful even of the lowliest, commanded that all should be fed: artisans, singers, jesters, merchants, spies, and wandering minstrels, even courtesans and camp followers.
No citizen of Hastināpura, seeing that great encampment, could tell whether the capital itself had moved upon the plain, for its splendour was no less—the same palaces of cloth and gem, the same shining order of command, the same pride of the Kuru race.
The banners flamed, the conches cried,
The earth beneath their chariots sighed;
And Kurukṣetra’s ancient breast
Bore once again the storm of kings’ unrest.
Thus the host of the Dhārtarāṣṭras stood arrayed—a sea of spears and chariots waiting for dawn’s signal—the world poised on the edge of the great war.
Vaiśaṁpāyana said:
When the sun rose golden upon the plain of Kurukṣetra, the sons of Pāṇḍu also prepared for war, their hearts steady and their standards lifted high. Yudhiṣṭhira, son of Kuntī and Dharma, calm as a sacrificial flame, summoned his brothers and commanders.
He spoke in measured tones, yet his voice carried the strength of destiny:
“Let the host be marshalled beneath the command of Dhṛṣṭadyumna, born of fire, the appointed slayer of our foes. Let every king and chieftain array his men for the holy battle that upholds dharma.”
Then the leaders of the Pāṇḍava host assembled—heroes whose names were like thunder in the world: Dhṛṣṭaketu, lord of the Cedis and Karūṣas; Virāṭa, the lion of Matsya; Drupada of lofty vows; Yuyudhāna the Sātyaki, warrior of the Vṛṣṇis; Śikhaṇḍin, born to the fate of Bhīṣma; and the twin princes of Pāñcāla, Yudhamanyu and Uttamaujas, strong of arm and true of heart.
Clad in gleaming mail, their earrings flashing like lightning, they shone as planets about the sun, and their ranks, when they moved, glowed like fire fed with clarified butter.
Then the righteous king, Yudhiṣṭhira, after honouring his generals with gifts and blessings, ordered the march of his host. He commanded abundant provisions for every warrior—kings, elephants, horsemen, footmen, and the multitude that laboured for the army’s welfare.
The drums of virtue answered war’s call,
From tented field to rampart wall;
As brazen conches filled the air,
And banners rose like prayers in flare.
The first division was led by the youth of unconquered valour—Abhimanyu, Bṛhanta, and the five sons of Draupadī—marching beneath Dhṛṣṭadyumna’s command.Behind them moved the second great array, led by Bhīmasena, the thunder of the field, and Dhananjaya, the son of Pāṇḍu, radiant beside Kṛṣṇa, his charioteer and soul’s companion.The sound of yokes being fitted, elephants bellowing, steeds neighing, and warriors shouting filled the heavens with tumult; the earth trembled as though rejoicing and afraid.Last of all came the king himself—Yudhiṣṭhira, lord of men—accompanied by Virāṭa and Drupada, and by a constellation of monarchs devoted to his cause.When the army unfurled for movement, it spread wide as the Gaṅgā in flood, and its shining columns flowed across the field like a living river of iron and gold.Then, by his wisdom and subtle art, Yudhiṣṭhira altered the disposition of his troops, confounding the spies of Dhṛtarāṣṭra’s sons.He appointed mighty Bhīma to command the first, irresistible division: there stood the five sons of Draupadī, Abhimanyu, Nakula, Sahadeva, and the chosen Prabhadrakas, with ten thousand horses, two thousand elephants, ten thousand footmen, and five hundred chariots.
In the central phalanx he placed Virāṭa, Jayatsena, and the Pāñcāla princes Yudhamanyu and Uttamaujas, masters of mace and bow. Amid them rode Vāsudeva and Arjuna, the twin fires of battle, surrounded by five thousand elephants, a sea of chariots, and footmen by tens of thousands.
There moved the hosts like mountain seas,
With shields for waves and spears for trees;
And Kṛṣṇa’s banner, Garuḍa’s flame,
Lit every heart with Arjuna’s name.
Behind them came Chekitāna, stalwart and swift; Dhṛṣṭaketu of the Cedis; Sātyaki, foremost among the Vṛṣṇis; and the warriors Kṣatrahan and Kṣatradeva guarding the rear.
Farther still were the supply trains and treasure wagons, the healers, artisans, cooks, and priests, all guarded by elephants with tusks gleaming like ploughshares. Yudhiṣṭhira moved slowly, ensuring every camp, chariot, and granary remained secure.
With him went Sauchitti, steadfast in truth; Śreṇimat, Vāsudeva, and Vibhu, son of the Kāśi king, bringing twenty thousand chariots and a hundred million steeds adorned with bells that chimed like songs of victory. Twenty thousand elephants, mighty as storm clouds, moved like living hills behind them.
Behind these came the seven Akṣauhiṇīs of Yudhiṣṭhira, seventy thousand elephants with temples streaming ichor, trumpeting as if the heavens themselves had broken into sound.
Thus marched the sons of Dharma’s line,
With wisdom’s helm and fate’s design.
The earth beneath their tread did quake—
For right itself had arms awake.
Trumpets blared, conches boomed, and the vast host rolled forward like the tide of time itself. Warriors by thousands and ten thousands, exulting in purpose, beat drums and raised war-cries that reached the very vault of heaven.
Thus was arrayed, O King, the mighty army of Yudhiṣṭhira, son of Dharma—terrible, disciplined, and radiant with righteousness—ready to meet the Kuru host upon the field where dharma and adharma would at last be tried in battle.
Thus ends the Udyoga Parva of the Mahabharata.