novelraw Arc 3 – Yudha Arambha Parva - Chapter 4 - Yudhiṣṭhira’s Lament and the Dawn of the Second Day
Arc 3 – Yudha Arambha Parva - Chapter 4 - Yudhiṣṭhira’s Lament and the Dawn of the Second Day
Dhṛtarāṣṭra said:
“When the generalissimo Śveta was slain by the enemy, what did the Pañcālas and the Pāṇḍavas do, O Sañjaya? When their leader fell, what passed between those who fought for his sake and our men who had fled before him? Thy tidings of victory please my heart; nor does shame touch me for our transgression, for the old Kuru chief stands ever steadfast for us. Yet Duryodhana—who once, fearing Yudhiṣṭhira, sought the Pāṇḍavas’ shelter—has courted this ruin at the counsels of Karṇa and Śakuni. Why then has Śveta, faithful to Yudhiṣṭhira, been cast down to the nether gloom? Bhīṣma liked not this war, nor Droṇa, nor Kripa, nor Gāndhārī, nor I—nor Vāsudeva, nor the sons of Pāṇḍu, nor Bhīma, nor Arjuna, nor the twins. Ever forbidden by me, by Gāndhārī, by Vidura, by Rāma Jāmadagnya, and by the high-souled Vyāsa, still did Duryodhana, with Duḥśāsana at his side, follow the malice of Karṇa and of Suvala’s son. I deem him sunk in distress. After Śveta’s slaughter, what did Pārtha, roused to wrath, do with Kṛṣṇa at his rein? From Arjuna my fears arise—fears not easily dispelled. He is Indra’s son, swift as lightning, terrible in wrath, ever victorious when he falls upon his foe. And what did Dhr̥ṣṭadyumna, the wise son of Drupada, when Śveta fell? Thinking on their ancient wrongs and the death of their commander, I cannot rest either day or night. Tell me all, O Sañjaya.”
Sañjaya said:
Hear calmly, O King, the truth of thy transgressions—lay not their fruit upon Duryodhana alone.
An embankment raised when waters are gone—such is counsel taken too late; a well dug when the house is aflame—such is repentance in the blaze.
Desire sowed deeds; deeds ripened fate;
Fate now harvests what was sown.
Counsel came when it was late—
And Time now claims what is its own.
When the forenoon had waned and Śveta had fallen to Bhīṣma’s shaft, Śaṅkha, son of Virāṭa—delighter in battle, grinder of hostile ranks—beheld Śalya standing with Kṛtavarman and blazed up in wrath like fire fed with ghee.
Bending a vast bow like the rainbow of the storm, he rushed to slay the Madra lord, a broad ring of chariots closing about him.
His arrows fell like rain upon Śalya’s car; seeing him charge like an enraged elephant, seven of thy foremost car-warriors wheeled in to rescue the Madra king, already in Death’s jaws.
Then Bhīṣma, cloud-voiced and terrible, lifted a bow full six cubits long and swept toward Śaṅkha.
The Pāṇḍava host trembled like a boat in tempest.
Arjuna, hastening, set his chariot before Śaṅkha to shield him, and the two—Bhīṣma and Pārtha—joined in combat.
Cries of “Alas!” rose on every side; ranks merged into ranks; wonder seized all.
Śalya leapt from his car with mace in hand and slew Śaṅkha’s four steeds; the prince sprang down, sword drawn, ran to Arjuna’s car, mounted, and took his stand there.
Then from Bhīṣma’s car poured a rain of arrows that roofed the sky and scoured the earth.
He mowed down Pañcālas, Matsyas, Kekayas, and Prabhadrakas without cease; abandoning for the moment Pārtha—who could draw even with his left—he drove upon king Drupada, his kinsman, and wrapped him in shafts.
Like a dry forest at winter’s end, the Pañcāla troops were seen to kindle and collapse.
Bhīṣma stood like smokeless fire, like the noon-day sun, scorching all within his reach.
The Pāṇḍava warriors could scarce behold him; their eyes cast about despairing, like cattle shaken by the cold.
Slain or in rout, crushed and bewildered, they filled the air with “Oh!” and “Alas!”
His bow drew circles bright as flame,
His arrows hissed like poisoned breath;
He named each foe before he aimed—
And spoke their names into their death.
Continuing, O Bhārata, the grandsire’s string never slackened; continuous lines of iron ran out in every quarter; car-warriors fell as he called them by name—then the sun sank and vision failed.
Beholding Bhīṣma, proud and unwearied, stand unshaken in the field, the Pārthas drew off their forces for the night.
The Moment Before Nightfall
Yet know, O King, what passed in the heartbeat before that dusk:
Arjuna barred the path to shield a kinsman; Bhīṣma burned the plain to save thy son. Between them the day bled out.
One stood a wall against the gale,
One strode a fire through the grain;
The sun slipped down behind the veil—
And silence sealed the scarlet plain.
Sañjaya said:
When the troops, O Bull of Bharata’s race, withdrew at dusk from the first day’s slaughter, and Duryodhana’s heart swelled with joy—
beholding Bhīṣma aflame with wrath like blazing Time itself—then King Yudhiṣṭhira, scorched by defeat, turned to Janārdana,
with all his brothers and the kings of his side following him in silence.
Grief weighed upon his breast; the image of Bhīṣma, radiant and terrible,
burned before his eyes. And Yudhiṣṭhira, son of Dharma, said unto Kṛṣṇa:
“Behold, O Keśava, that mighty bowman, Bhīṣma of dreadful prowess.
He devours my host with arrows as fire devours dry grass.
How may we even gaze upon that lion among men,
who licks up my armies like flame fed by clarified butter?
My warriors fly before his wrath, pierced and broken;
Even Yama, or Indra, or Varuṇa with his noose, or Kubera with his mace—
none could stand before that mighty car-warrior.
I am sinking, O Govinda, into the fathomless sea that is Bhīṣma,
without a raft to bear me across.
In folly, I have found him for my foe;
better to flee the field and dwell in forests than offer these kings to Death in his form.
Skilled in every weapon, he will annihilate my host.
My soldiers rush toward him as moths into flame.
For the sake of kingdom I have driven them into ruin;
and my brothers—heroes all—bleed for me,
robbed of crown and joy, yet fighting on for their elder’s sake.
O Mādhava, life seems bitter now;
I would rather spend what days remain in forest penance than cause their fall.
Bhīṣma, ever loosing celestial shafts, slays by thousands the foremost of my warriors.
Tell me, Kṛṣṇa, what must be done for our good.
Arjuna stands indifferent; only Bhīma, mindful of Kṣatriya duty,
toils on with his mace, striking steeds and elephants and men.
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Yet even he could not crush this host in a hundred years.
This thy friend, Dhanañjaya, alone is master of the great weapons,
yet he looks on while Bhīṣma and Droṇa consume us.
Their divine arms, ever invoked, are destroying all our kṣatriyas.
None can withstand Bhīṣma’s fury, aided by so many kings.
O Lord of Yoga, seek thou a warrior who can lay that old lion low—
one who, like the rain-cloud quenching forest fire,
will end Bhīṣma’s blaze.
Then, by thy grace, O Govinda,
the sons of Pāṇḍu, their foes laid low, shall regain their realm and live in peace.”
Having spoken thus, the high-souled son of Pṛthā grew silent; his heart oppressed,
his gaze fixed upon the earth. Seeing him thus stricken with grief and thought,
Govinda spoke words of cheer:
“Do not grieve, O best of Bharatas.
Why shouldst thou lament when thy brothers are heroes among men?
I labour for thy welfare, and so does mighty Sātyaki,
and the aged kings Virāṭa and Drupada,
and Dṛṣṭadyumna of Pṛṣata’s race,
ever eager for thy good and obedient to thy will.
All these monarchs, O Yudhiṣṭhira,
wait upon thee with love and loyalty.
Thy commander Dṛṣṭadyumna, born of sacrifice,
is resolute for thy victory;
and Śikhaṇḍin too, O mighty-armed one, is destined as Bhīṣma’s slayer.”
Hearing this, King Yudhiṣṭhira turned to Dṛṣṭadyumna and said in the presence of Kṛṣṇa:
“O son of Pṛṣata, mark well my words—
transgress them not.
Approved by Vāsudeva, thou art our commander,
even as Kārtikeya was of old for the hosts of heaven.
Exert thy prowess, O tiger among men,
and strike down the Kurus.
I, with Bhīma, with Kṛṣṇa, with the sons of Mādrī and of Draupadī,
and all our allied kings, will follow thee into the fight.”
Then Dṛṣṭadyumna, his face kindled like a torch, replied proudly before them all:
“Ordained by Śambhu himself, I am the slayer of Droṇa.
Today I shall contend with Bhīṣma, with Droṇa and Kripa,
with Śalya, Jayadratha, and all these haughty monarchs.
Let the heavens behold! I will do what must be done.”
His bold speech thundered through the camp;
the Pāṇḍava warriors shouted in acclaim,
their hearts rekindled like torches after storm.
The Plan of the Morning — The Krauncha Array
Then Yudhiṣṭhira said unto his general:
“Form for tomorrow the Krauñca-vyūha, the ‘Crane Array,’
that slays all foes—
the very formation that Bṛhaspati taught to Indra in his war with the Asuras.
Let the Kurus behold this unseen shape,
vast as fate itself.”
Thus addressed, Dṛṣṭadyumna, at dawn, arranged the army as commanded.
He placed Dhanañjaya in the van,
his chariot-banner forged by Indra’s artisan, flying radiant among the clouds.
Gemmed and many-hued, it moved in the wind like a rainbow;
and with Arjuna beneath it, bow of the gods in hand,
it gleamed as the Self-Born shines beside the Sun.
King Drupada led the array as its head;
Kuntibhoja and Śaivya were its two eyes;
the rulers of the Daśārṇas, Prayāgas, Daśerakas, Anupakas, and Kirātas formed its neck.
Yudhiṣṭhira himself stood at its heart,
flanked by the Patachcharas, Hūṇas, Pauravakas, and Niṣādas;
while the Piśācas and mountain tribes—the Kuṇḍaviśas, Maṇḍakas, Laḍakas, Tāṅgaṇas, and Udras—guarded its wings.
Nakula and Sahadeva manned the left wing,
and on the joints of each wing were stationed ten thousand cars;
the head bore a hundred thousand; the rear, a hundred million and twenty thousand;
the neck, one hundred and seventy thousand more.
Along the flanks and joints moved herds of elephants,
vast as moving mountains, golden-tusked and blazing in their armour.
The rear was held firm by Virāṭa and the Kekaya princes,
by the kings of Kāśi and Cedi with thirty thousand cars.
Thus arrayed, the sons of Pāṇḍu waited for sunrise,
each encased in armour, expectant of war.
Their white umbrellas—broad, gleaming, and pure as moonlight—
shone upon elephants and cars like silver discs amid storm-clouds.
And the field of Kurukṣetra, beneath that host assembled,
seemed at dawn like heaven itself,
with its constellations of warriors awaiting the day.
The night withdrew; the conches stirred;
Hope and wrath in equal breath;
The Pāṇḍava host in silence heard
The tread of dawn—and thought of death.
The Call to Arms — The Conches of Kurukṣetra
Sañjaya said:
When the mighty and terrible array called Krauñcha—the Crane—was formed by the son of Pāṇḍu, whose energy was immeasurable, Duryodhana, beholding it, approached Droṇa, Kripa, Śalya, Somadatta’s son, Vikarna, Aśvatthāman, and all his brothers headed by Duḥśāsana. Around him stood many heroes of boundless might, eager for battle and ready to die. Addressing them in a voice of bold resolve, the prince spoke words meant to gladden their hearts.
“Ye are masters of many weapons, O mighty car-warriors,
Well-versed in scripture, in code, and in war.
Each one among you could alone destroy
The sons of Pāṇḍu with all their power.
Our host, guarded by Bhīṣma, knows no measure;
Theirs, shielded by Bhīma, is but small.
Unite then, O heroes, for victory’s treasure—
Together we shall see their legions fall.
Let Śāṃsthānas, Sūrasenas, and Veṇikas fight,
The Kukkuras, Rēcakas, and proud Trigartas too;
Let Madrakas, Yavanas, and Śatrunjayas bright
Guard Bhīṣma’s chariot in steadfast view.”
Thus heartened by his words, Bhīṣma, Droṇa, and all the leaders of the Kaurava army arranged a vast counter-formation to meet the sons of Pāṇḍu. Bhīṣma, surrounded by countless warriors, advanced like Indra himself leading the hosts of heaven. Behind him came Droṇa, son of Bharadvāja, his chariot rolling forward like a moving mountain. He was followed by the Kuṇṭalas, the Daśārṇas, the Magadhas, the Vidarbhas, the Melakas, the Karṇas, and the Pravaraṇas, their banners shining like tongues of flame.
The Gandhāras, Sindhus, Sauvīras, Śivis, and Vasatis marched in his wake, loyal to Bhīṣma, that ancient lion of the Kurus. Śakuni of Gandhāra guarded Droṇa’s flank with his men. Duryodhana, surrounded by his brothers and chiefs, led the center, supported by the Aśvalakas, Vikarnas, Vāmanas, Kośalas, Daradas, Vṛkas, Kṣudrakas, and Mālavas, marching with joyful hearts.
On the left wing stood Bhūriśravā, Śala, Śalya, Bhagadatta, and the Avanti twins, Vinda and Anuvinda. On the right stood Somadatta, Śuśarmā, Sudakṣiṇa of the Kāmbojas, Satāyus, and Śrutāyus, each with glittering standards. In the rear waited Aśvatthāman, Kripa, and Kṛtavarman of the Sātvata race, commanding a vast reserve of troops, with Ketumat, Vasudāna, and the son of the Kāśi king closing the line.
Then, O Bhārata, the entire Kaurava host, filled with eagerness, blew their conches together. A thousand voices thundered; the sound rolled through earth and heaven. Bhīṣma, mighty among men, hearing that roar, raised his own conch and answered it with a blast like the lion’s call before battle.
Then rose a storm of sound, wild and vast—
Drums and tabors, trumpets and shells;
The firmament trembled; the wind held fast,
As the cry of war through heaven swells.
At that moment, O King, Madhava and Arjuna, standing on their great car drawn by white steeds, blew their own divine conches decked with gold and gems.
Hṛṣīkeśa sounded the Pāñcajanya; Dhanañjaya blew the Devadatta; and Vṛkodara of dreadful deeds winded the mighty Pauṇḍra. Yudhiṣṭhira, son of Kuntī, blew the Anantavijaya; Nakula and Sahadeva sounded the Sughoṣa
and Maṇipuṣpaka.
The ruler of Kāśi, Śaivya, Śikhaṇḍin the bold, Dṛṣṭadyumna, Virāṭa, Sātyaki, Drupada, and the five sons of Draupadī—all blew their conches together.
The earth and the sky resounded as one,
Flags trembled like clouds in storm;
The thunder of conches, fierce yet pure,
Proclaimed the meeting of dharma and doom.
Thus, O King, both armies, Kurus and Pāṇḍavas alike, advanced once more—each host blazing with splendour, each eager for the fire of combat, each burning to scorch the other with its might.