Stories of the Great Bharata - A Retelling

Arc 1 - Droṇābhiṣeka Parva - Chapter 7 - Vṛkodara’s Rage

Sañjaya said:

Beholding Vṛkodara surge forward on a car drawn by dappled steeds the hue of the antelope’s hide, the brave grandson of Sini, Sātyaki, flashed beside him, borne by silvery horses. Yudhamanyu, irresistible and wrath-stirred, sped straight at Droṇa on a team of variegated chargers. Dhṛṣṭadyumna, son of the Pāñcāla king, came swift on pigeon-grey steeds in golden trappings; and for his sire’s safeguard, Kṣatradharman of steady vows followed close on red-hoofed horses. Kṣatradeva, son of Śikhaṇḍin, urged lotus-leaf green steeds, white-eyed and bright of harness. Nakula’s reins held Kāmbhoja horses decked with green-parrot plumes, while dark cloud-coloured coursers bore Uttamaujas raging toward invincible Droṇa. Sahadeva’s wind-swift, many-hued steeds drew him with weapons upraised; and the ivory-white, black-maned team of Yudhiṣṭhira—tiger among men—raced at the fore, many princes streaming after him on gold-caparisoned mounts. Behind the king rolled mighty Drupada beneath a golden umbrella, shielded by that press of troops. Sautābhi, best of bowmen, rode steeds that never shied at clangor; Virāṭa thundered after with his great car-warriors. The Kāikeyas and Śikhaṇḍin and Dhṛṣṭaketu moved in their own proud clusters: trumpet-flower red horses made Virāṭa blaze; Uttara, his son, flew on yellow chargers in golden chains; the five Kāikeya brothers, bannered in red and glowing like gold, loosed cloud-bursts of arrows as their deep-red teams devoured the ground.

Śikhaṇḍin’s car, strong as his resolve, ran behind Tumvuru’s gift-steeds, clay-pot brown; twelve thousand Pāñcāla chariots mustered to war, six thousand tight about Śikhaṇḍin. Dapple-hided antelope-hued horses brought the son of Śiśupāla, while Cedi bull Dhṛṣṭaketu—hard to overthrow—swept in on variegated Kāmbhoja steeds. Sindhu racers, smoke-grey and fine of limb, bore the Kāikeya Vṛhatkṣatra. Lotus-tinted Valhīka horses, white of eye, drew Kṣatradeva, Śikhaṇḍin’s son. Senavindu, foe-tamer, stood upon red-silk steeds in cloth of gold; crane-white horses bore the delicate Kāsirāja-kumāra to battle. Prativindhya’s team ran white with black necks, mind-swift and perfectly obedient; whitish-yellow steeds drew Śutasoma, Arjuna’s son by Draupadī—Udayendu-born, moon-thousand bright, famed among Somakas. Śatānīka, son of Nakula, shone upon sāla-blossom or sunrise-hued horses; Śrutakarman, Bhīma’s boy by Draupadī, rode peacock-neck blue chargers under golden tack; kingfisher-bright steeds bore Śrutakīrti, Draupadī’s son, an ocean of lore like Pārtha. Tawny horses carried youthful Abhimanyu—held one-and-a-half times peer to Kṛṣṇa or Arjuna in the shock of war. Gigantic coursers drew Yuyutsu, Dhṛtarāṣṭra’s lone righteous son, to our side. Vardhakṣemī’s paddy-stalk teams, well-fleshed, trod hard; black-legged, gold-barded, perfectly handled steeds bore the youth Sauchitti. Śreṇimat advanced on red-silk horses under gold chains; Satyādhr̥ti, Veda-skilled and sure of arm, on red chargers. Dhṛṣṭadyumna—commander of the Paṇḍava host, vowed to Droṇa’s fall—rode pigeon-grey; after him ran Satyādhr̥ti, Sauchitti, Śreṇimat, Vasudāna, and Vibhu, the Kāśi-kumāra, upon the finest Kāmbhoja teams ringing in gold. The six-thousand Prabhadrakas of Kāmbhoja—bows bent, death-fixed—rolled with him on jewel-bright cars, making foes tremble beneath their iron rain. Chekitāna came on tawny-silk steeds, golden-chained and eager. Purujit Kuntibhoja, Arjuna’s maternal uncle, rode a rainbow-hued span; Rocabāṇa rushed on star-flecked firmament-coloured horses; Gopati’s son Siṃghasena, Pāñcāla prince, on red-deer steeds streaked with white. Janamejaya the Pāñcāla flashed on mustard-flower chargers; the Pāñcāla lord himself—dark-blue giants with curd-white backs and moon-bright faces under gold chains—sped like storm-clouds. Reed-white-headed, lotus-bright steeds led Daṇḍadhara; light-brown mounts, mouse-backed and proud of neck, bore Vyāghradatta; dark-spotted chargers carried Sudhanvan fierce as Indra’s bolt; indragopaka-freckled beauties whirled Citrāyudha. Belly-chakravāka red, gold-chained horses bore Sūkṣatra, the Kosala prince; tall, variegated, gold-chained giants bore Satyādhr̥ti again to the fore. Śukla advanced with standard, harness, bow, and steeds all white; sea-born moon-white chargers carried Candrasena, son of Samudrasena. Blue-lotus teams with gold adornment and flower garlands bore Śaiva; kālāya-blue steeds with white and red streaks bore Rathasena hard to stem; the king who slew the Patachchāras came on white.

Kinsuka-red racers bore Citrāyudha in shining arms and garlands; Nīla the king came all in blue—standard, armour, bow, banner, steeds; Citrā rolled with car-fence, gems, and banner ablaze; lotus-hued steeds drew Hemavarṇa, son of Rocabāṇa. Reed-spined chargers, white-stoned, hen-egg tinted, weapon-brave, bore Daṇḍaketu. Then Śārṅgadhvaja, wealthy in energy, Pāṇḍya king, moon-ray horses under lapis-inlaid armour, bent his excellent bow against Droṇa. Long ago his realm was ravaged, his kin scattered, his sire slain by Kṛṣṇa in war; tutored by Bhīṣma, Droṇa, Rāma, and Kr̥pa, he rose to the prowess of Rukmī, Karṇa, Arjuna, and Acyuta—burning once to strike Dvārakā and conquer the earth, yet turned by wise friends to rule in peace. Atruṣa-flower coloured horses—one hundred and forty thousand cars—rolled behind that Pāṇḍya lord. Diverse hues and mixed arms bore heroic Ghaṭotkaca; immense Aratta steeds drew red-eyed Vṛhanta on a golden car—he who left the Bhāratas for Yudhiṣṭhira out of reverence, abandoning private longings. Gold-glowing horses followed righteous Yudhiṣṭhira’s rear; many Prabhadrakas of celestial form, on splendid steeds with golden standards, marched with Bhīmasena like gods with Indra at their head—well-liked by Dhṛṣṭadyumna.

Among them all, O King, Droṇa outshone in splendour. His standard with black antelope-skin and shining water-pot streamed fair; Bhīmasena’s banner bore a silver lion with lapis eyes; Yudhiṣṭhira’s device was a golden moon ringed by planets, beneath which hung the great kettle-drums Nanda and Upānanda, whose hidden gears beat music that delighted friend and daunted foe. Nakula’s standard reared a fearsome Śarabha with a back of gold; Sahadeva’s shone with a silver swan hung with bells, grief to enemies. Draupadī’s five sons bore Dharma, Marut, Śakra, and the twin Aśvins upon their flags. Abhimanyu’s golden peacock blazed like heated ore; Ghaṭotkaca’s vulture glared, and his steeds went where they willed as once did Rāvaṇa’s.

In Yudhiṣṭhira’s hands lay the celestial Mahendra bow; in Bhīma’s, the Vāyavya; Phālguna held the indestructible bow Brahmā wrought to guard the three worlds; Nakula bore the Vaiṣṇava; Sahadeva the Aśvina; Ghaṭotkaca the dread Paulastya. The five jewels borne by Draupadī’s sons were the Raudra, Agneya, Kauverya, Yāmya, and Girīśa; the Raudra—won by Rohiṇī’s son—Balarāma gave in delight to Subhadrā’s boy. Gold-trimmed banners without number climbed the sky and troubled the heart of foes; Droṇa’s host—no coward in its ranks—its forest of standards seemed to paint the very air. Names and lineages rose like the recitation at a svayaṃvara as heroes pressed toward Droṇa’s chariot.

Then old Drupada rolled upon him with a mighty division, and those two elders thundered at the heads of their herds like rival tuskers with temples rent. Vinda and Anuvinda of Avanti grappled Virāṭa at the front, Indra and Agni once more against Vali. Matsyas and Kāikeyas clashed in god-and-Asura fashion, elephants, cars, and steeds meeting without fear. Bhūtakarman Śabhāpati tried to hold Dhṛṣṭadyumna from Droṇa; Satanīka, Nakula’s son, intercepted him—three broadheads later the foe’s two arms and head lay on the field. Viviṃśati barred heroic Śutasoma and was stung in mail by straight flights; Bhīmaratha, in iron haste, sent Śālva with steeds and charioteer to Yama. Citraseṇa’s son rose against thy grandson Śrutakarman—two grandsons, both hard to subdue, fought for their fathers’ ends. Seeing Prativindhya at the van, Aśvatthāman, lion-tail on his flag, shielded his sire’s honour; Draupadī’s eldest pierced him in wrath, sowing arrows as a farmer seeds his field. Duhśāsana’s son barred Śrutakīrti, Arjuna’s boy; but that equal of Arjuna sheared bow, banner, and driver in three keen strokes and went on at Droṇa. Lakṣmaṇa opposed the slayer of the Patachchāras—bravest among both hosts—yet lost bow and flag beneath a shower and saw his foe blaze the brighter.

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

Vikarna, wise and youthful, stood before Śikhaṇḍin; Yajñasena’s son rained arrows, Vikarna broke the storm and shone the more. Aṅgada and Uttamaujas tore at each other like lions; Durmukha crossed Purujit and took a shaft between the brows that lotus-marked his face. Karṇa barred the five Kāikeyas; they scorched and were scorched in arrow-clouds till car and team vanished within the hail. Durjaya, Jaya, and Vijaya held Nīla, the Kāśi lord, and Jayatsena three-on-three, a spectacle like lion, tiger, wolf set against bear, buffalo, bull. Kshemadhurti and Vṛhanta mangled Sātyaki of the Sātvatas; lion against two rutting elephants the fight raged bright. The Cedi king, wrathful, hewed down warriors and kept king Amvaṣṭha from Droṇa; Amvaṣṭha’s long shaft struck to the bone and dropped him, bow and cord sliding from his hands. Noble Kr̥pa, Śāradvata’s son, with small keen arrows matched Vardhakṣemī of the Vṛṣṇis—so close their duel that eyes forgot all else. Somadatta’s son, to lift Droṇa’s glory, faced nimble King Manimat; Manimat cut bowstring, standard, banner, charioteer, umbrella from his car, but the stake-bannered youth leapt down and with his great sword lopped man, steeds, driver, flag, and car, then remounted, took a new bow, guided his own reins, and burned the Paṇḍava line.

Vr̥śasena, Karṇa’s son, fit for great deeds, drenched King Pāṇḍya’s advance in arrow-showers as that lord drove like Indra upon Asuras. Then Ghaṭotkaca came—maces, bludgeons, swords, axes, stones, discs, short darts—wind, dust, fire, and water in his hands; hurling, breaking, terrifying, he tore the ranks to get at Droṇa. Rākṣasa Alambusha, rage-bright, rose to meet him with diverse weapons and woven wiles; their duel was like Saṃvara against the thousand-eyed of old.

Thus, O blessed king, hundreds of single combats flamed amid the general slaughter: car to car, elephant to elephant, horse to horse, foot to foot—some terrible, some beautiful, some fierce beyond the telling—as men strove either to fell Droṇa or to save him in that day of vow and destiny.

Sañjaya said:

When the wings of both hosts spread and struck at one another in scattered divisions, O King, thy son Duryodhana, eager for renown, led forth his elephant-corps and himself rushed upon iron-limbed Bhīmasena. Like tusker upon tusker, like bull upon bull, Vṛkodara answered the summons and drove at that mountain-herd. Then the son of Pavana, strong in arms and craft of war, shattered the elephant phalanx. Huge beasts, hill-high and dripping ichor, turned beneath his storm of shafts as banks of cloud are torn and scattered by the rising wind. Bhīma burned upon his car like the sun new-risen, and his arrows were the day’s hot rays; the elephants, sun-pierced and bleeding, shone like rain-clouds rent with light.

Duryodhana, stung, shot keen shafts at the Wind-born; Bhīma, eyes reddened, aimed to send the king to Yama’s gate and answered with a hard hail of steel. Smiling despite his wounds, the Kuru smote again—till Bhīma, with two broadheads, shore the royal bow and felled the jeweled elephant-banner.

Then the lord of Aṅga, towering upon a roaring tusker, charged to cover thy son. Bhīma’s arrow, long and deep, flew between the frontal globes, tore through flesh, and rooted in the earth; the beast collapsed like a thunder-cleft cliff, and, while beast and rider toppled, Vṛkodara’s keen broadhead took the Mleccha’s head in air before it kissed the dust. Their lines broke; panicked steeds, cars, and elephants crushed their own foot by flight.

The king of Pragjyotiṣa came next, O Bhārata—Bhagadatta upon Supratika, wrath in rolling eyes, trunk and forelegs gathered like a springing fire. He stamped Bhīma’s team and car to splinters. Then Vṛkodara slipped beneath that colossus, knowing the subtle art called Añjalikābheda; with bare arms he hammered the belly, and the beast spun like a potter’s wheel. Supratika caught him in its trunk and cast him down, knee pinning neck to kill; but Bhīma twisted the living noose and broke free, slid under again, and then burst out, waiting the countercharge. Fleeing swift to draw the beast aside, he vanished in dust—whereat a cry rose, “Alas—Bhīma is slain!” The Paṇḍava host wavered and streamed toward the place he’d marked.

Yudhiṣṭhira, deeming Bhīma fallen, ringed Bhagadatta round with Pāñcāla cars and poured a thousand barbed petitions. But the hill-king, warding arrows with iron hook, made his elephant a fire among dry reeds. The feat we saw of the aged monarch with his mount was a wonder, O King. The lord of the Daśārṇas met him tusk to tusk upon a sweat-slick elephant; those two mountain-wings clashed like forested peaks at war. Supratika wheeled, ripped the rival’s flank, slew both beast and rider—the seven sun-bright lances of Bhagadatta nailed the man in the very moment of his fall.

Still Yudhiṣṭhira hemmed him with cars; upon that height of flesh and thunder the Pragjyotiṣan shone like summit-fire in a nighted wood, calm within a ring of bowmen’s rain. Pressing with his toe he urged the giant toward Sātyaki’s banner; the tusker seized the Sāini’s car and flung it far, while Yuyudhāna, springing aside, lived by a heartbeat. Bursting the car-ring, the elephant cast down kings as a flood tears trees from banks; men saw but one beast multiplied a thousandfold and quailed as if Airāvata himself were loosed.

Then, while Pañchāla lines screamed and broke, Bhīma, wrath rekindled, ran again at the hill-king. Supratika’s trunk drenched his oncoming horses; terror bore them backward and Bhīma with them. Ruciparvan, Kṛti’s son, drove in like Time with a storm of arrows, and Bhagadatta’s straight shaft sent him swiftly to the Lord of Justice.

Abhimanyu, the sons of Draupadī, Chekitāna, Dhṛṣṭaketu, and Yuyutsu ringed the beast with cries and feathered it like clouds drench earth in season. The skilled rider’s heel, hook, and toe brought the trunk level, eyes and ears fixed; he trod down Yuyutsu’s steeds and slew the charioteer—Yuyutsu fled afoot. Still the Paṇḍavas shouted and sent their rain; then thy son, blazing, drove at Subhadrā’s child even as Bhagadatta, radiant as the sun scattering rays, loosed on all. Abhimanyu pricked him with twelve, Yuyutsu with ten, each son of Draupadī with three, and Dhṛṣṭaketu with three more; shafts studded the giant like sunbeams in a storm-dark cloud. Goaded, the prince of elephants heaved foes from both flanks as a herdsman flails cattle with a rod; the Paṇḍava cry turned crow-harsh and ragged beneath hawks. Under the hook’s bite that beast was a winged mountain of old; and fear filled hearts like merchants sighting a surging sea. Kings and beasts and cars fled with a din that filled the earth and interspace. Mounted on that foremost elephant, Bhagadatta pierced our host as Virocana once pierced the gods’ array, well-warded. A wild wind rose, dust roofed the sky, and all men thought that single tusker had become ten thousand, coursing everywhere at once.

Like daybreak’s fire on a forested height,

Bhagadatta blazed on the swaying white;

Hook for a thunderbolt, tusks for a blade—

Ranks were the reeds his hot tempest laid.

Sun-son Abhimanyu’s arrows sang,

Five princes’ feathers in sun-shafts rang;

Cloud-beast Supratika, gold-lit with gore,

Moved like a storm over flood-struck shore.

Vṛkodara vanished, then rose again,

Breaking the noose of the mountain’s chain;

Wind in his sinews, iron in breath—

He danced with the beast at the edge of death.

Dust veiled the heavens, courage was tried;

Fate was the charioteer, dharma the guide.

Still through the thunder of hoof and cry,

The wheel of Kuru and Pāṇḍu rolled by.