novelraw Arc 3 - Jayadhratha-Vadha Parva - Chapter 18 - Duryodhana’s Frustration
Arc 3 - Jayadhratha-Vadha Parva - Chapter 18 - Duryodhana’s Frustration
Sañjaya said:
When the ruler of the Sindhus had fallen beneath Pārtha’s shafts, thy son Duryodhana, O king—his heart scorched by grief, his face bathed in tears, sighing like a serpent shorn of its fangs—was overcome by sorrow. The vast field around him, strewn with the wreckage of his hosts and the blood of kings, seemed to mirror his despair. He beheld the heaps of slain warriors, the broken banners of proud allies, and he murmured to himself in anguish:
“None upon earth can equal Arjuna in war.
Not Droṇa, nor Kṛpa, nor Aśvatthāman, nor even Karṇa—
no, not any man alive—can stand before him when wrath inflames his soul.
Jayadratha is slain, and my proud legions crumble.
I once deemed Kṛṣṇa a mere envoy of straw,
trusting Karṇa’s might to humble him—
but even that Karṇa hath been vanquished in battle,
and my faith hath perished with him.”
Brooding thus, the offender against the world went to Droṇa, the master of weapons, to pour out his lament. Entering the preceptor’s tent, he spoke, his voice heavy as thunder muted by rain:
“O reverend teacher, behold this ruin of kings. I went to war placing the grandsire Bhīṣma at our head; he lies now upon his bed of arrows, and Śikhaṇḍin, fulfilled in vengeance, rides foremost amid the Pāñcālas. Another of thy pupils, the invincible Savyasācin, hath slain seven Akṣauhiṇīs of troops and sent Jayadratha to Yama’s abode.
How shall I repay the debt I owe my friends— kings who strove for my sake and have met their death? They sought the earth’s sovereignty, and now they lie upon her breast, forsaking all her riches.
Truly am I a coward and a sinner. Though I slew countless friends, even a hundred horse-sacrifices could not cleanse me. Greedy and faithless have I been, a breaker of kinship and law. Because of me these lords of men have perished, seeking victory for my name. Why, O earth, dost thou not open before me to hide my shame and my sin?
When I meet Bhīṣma, his eyes blood-red in wrath, what shall I say to him, that lion among men who lies pierced yet unconquered? Behold Jalasandha, slain by Sātyaki— a mighty bowman who came to die for me. The king of the Kāmbojas is fallen, Alamvuṣa is slain, and the kings of Sivi and Vasati no more— all for my cause. What joy remains for me in life?
Those heroes who fought till death for my crown now dwell in Yama’s realm. Today, I swear by my strength, by my sons, and by my honor, that I shall repay my debt to them— either by slaying the Pāṇḍavas and the Pāñcālas, or by following my friends to their dark abode. Let my body be washed in the Yamunā’s stream, that I may offer libations of my own blood to those who died for me.
My allies, seeing that I can no longer protect them,
lose faith and turn their hearts toward the sons of Pāṇḍu.
Thou, O preceptor, treatest Arjuna with gentleness
because he is thy disciple;
therefore our ruin, ordained by fate, draws near.
Only Karṇa now stands firm for my sake.
Alas! the fool who trusts without discernment and draws to himself a friend unproved, wins not safety but ruin— even as I have found in this ill-starred venture. Covetous, crooked, blinded by greed—such am I. Jayadratha lies slain, and with him Somadatta’s son, the Abhīṣahas, the Sūrasenas, the Śivis, the Vasatis—all dead for me. I shall go today, O lord of arms, to where those heroes, struck down by Arjuna for my sake, have gone. Without them I have no will to live. Therefore, O teacher of the sons of Pāṇḍu, grant me thy leave to seek my end.”
Thus, lamenting with a heart torn by despair, the son of Dhṛtarāṣṭra stood before Droṇa, torn between his thirst for vengeance and the shadow of his doom.
Sañjaya said:
When the Sindhu king had been slain by Savyasāchin and the mighty Bhūriśravā had fallen, cries of woe rose through the Kaurava ranks. A dark grief seized the hearts of thy warriors, O Bhārata, for their strength was broken and their hope extinguished. None now heeded the words of Duryodhana—the same counsels that had drawn hundreds of princes to their death.
As for Droṇa, hearing his king’s lament, he sat still for a time, the weight of fate heavy upon him. His face grew pale, his heart was torn, and at last he spoke, his voice slow and heavy like a man bound to doom.
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“Why, O Duryodhana,” said he, “piercest thou me with these arrows of speech? Did I not tell thee before that Arjuna is not to be conquered? It was under his shelter that Śikhaṇḍin struck down Bhīṣma; and when Bhīṣma, who was invincible to gods and Dānavas alike, lay pierced upon his bed of arrows, I knew the Kuru host was doomed. Who now remains for us to trust, when even that great warrior hath fallen?
The dice that Śakuni cast in the royal hall were not dice—they were keen arrows,
winged with deceit and barbed with ruin.
Even now those same arrows, sped by destiny, strike us down.
Vidura, wise and sorrowing, warned thee then with tears in his eyes,
bidding thee choose peace, but thou wouldst not hear him.
The evil he foresaw hath come upon us.
The fool who scorns the counsel of faithful friends and follows the crooked path of his own desire soon finds himself fallen into misery.
Think, O son of Gāndhārī, of that sin in the assembly— Kṛṣṇā, dragged by her hair before the Kurus, she who never merited such shame, who was virtue incarnate. Even that act is small beside the fate that now awaits thee in the next world. By deceit thou didst win at dice and sent the sons of Pāṇḍu forth in deerskin. Who but I, among Brāhmaṇas, would fight for men so wronged, they who are to me as my own sons?
With thy father’s assent and with Śakuni’s guile,
thou didst stir the wrath of the Pāṇḍavas.
Duḥśāsana and Karṇa fanned it to flame,
and thou, blind with pride, hast fed it day by day.
Now, surrounded by ruin, thou askest me why Jayadratha fell.
Did ye not all stand about him, sworn to guard his life?
Why, then, is he gone, and ye yet live?
Jayadratha looked to me for deliverance,
but I could not save him, nor can I see safety for myself.
Until I have slain the Pāñcālas and their leader Śikhaṇḍin,
my heart sinks as one mired in the slough of Dhṛṣṭadyumna.
Thou sayest I am to blame—yet I too burn with grief,
seeing that I have failed the one who trusted in my strength.
Look around thee, Duryodhana— the golden standards of Bhīṣma shine no more. When I saw him, that unconquerable hero, struck down by Arjuna before thy eyes and Duḥśāsana’s, I knew then that the earth herself had turned her face from thee. How canst thou hope for victory when even the grandsire lies still, when Bhūriśravā and the Sindhu king are dust?
Kṛpa yet lives, and I honor him for not following their path;
but the rest of our hope is gone.
The Pāṇḍavas and the Śṛñjayas, united, rush upon us now.
For thy sake, I will go forth once more
and strike at the heart of the Pāñcālas until I fall.
But mark my words, O king: go thou and tell my son Aśvatthāman
that he must not let the Somakas escape.
Bid him remember the teaching of his father—
to be humble, self-restrained, truthful, and righteous;
to serve religion and profit, yet never forsake the higher path;
to honor Brāhmaṇas as fire itself,
for their blessing is life, and their curse, destruction.
As for me, I shall enter the foe’s ranks, my armor upon me, my heart resolved, for this battle must be met though my strength be spent. If thou canst, go and rally thy troops, for both Kurus and Pāñcālas are aflame with wrath. They will not wait for dawn; they will fight even through the night.”
So speaking, Droṇa rose, his eyes like burning coals, and strode to his car. He lifted his bow once more and drove into the press of war, his fury blazing like the sun that swallows the stars.
Sañjaya said:
Thus roused by Droṇa’s stern command, Duryodhana’s wrath flared like oil upon fire. With eyes bloodshot and breath quickened by despair, he turned to Karṇa and spoke bitterly, his words trembling with both anger and grief:
“Behold, O son of Rādhā, how fate mocks me!
The diadem-decked son of Pāṇḍu, with only Kṛṣṇa for ally,
has broken through the preceptor’s array—
that labyrinth which even the gods could scarce have pierced—
and, in Droṇa’s very sight, in mine, and in the gaze of all my heroes,
slew the Sindhu king.
Our proud hosts lie strewn upon the earth,
mighty monarchs struck down like forest beasts before a lion.
Arjuna hath devoured my army like fire in dry grass.
How could he, passing unharmed before Droṇa,
slay Jayadratha in battle unless the preceptor himself willed it so?
Truly, Pārtha is dear to Droṇa’s heart,
and so the teacher gave him passage unopposed!
Behold my misfortune—
the same Droṇa who vowed to shield the Sindhu lord
granted free entry to his slayer.
Had he permitted Jayadratha to return to his home that morning,
this dreadful slaughter had not been!
Alas, that foolish king begged for leave to depart,
and I, blind with pride, forbade him.
Now my brothers, with Citraseṇa at their head,
have perished before my eyes.
O Karṇa, ruin is upon us!”
Then Karṇa, steady and grim, replied:
“Censure not the preceptor, O king.
That Brāhmaṇa fights to the full measure of his strength,
careless of his life, loyal to his duty.
The fault is not his. Consider Arjuna—
young, tireless, peerless in arms,
master of celestial weapons, swift as thought,
guided by Kṛṣṇa himself,
mounted on his ape-bannered car and wielding the unfading Gāṇḍīva.
Against such might, even Droṇa, aged and worn,
could not long withstand.
The teacher’s limbs are heavy, his strength spent with years.
What wonder then if Arjuna broke through?
It is no failing of Droṇa but the hand of Fate.
Destiny rules all, and effort is its servant.
Though we fought with all our might,
Fate frowned upon us and gave the victory to the sons of Pāṇḍu.
We have schemed and strove against them—
by poison, by fire, by deceit at dice—
yet every plot was shattered by destiny’s will.
Who can outmatch Fate, O king?
Even wisdom and valour bow before it.
Still, courage is the duty of kings.
Let us fight with firm resolve and mock at fortune.
Between two sides striving with equal might,
destiny oft favors the worthier arm.
Therefore, set thy heart on battle once more!
Whether through cunning or strength,
let victory—if it be destined—fall to us.”
Thus spoke Karṇa, his words hard yet bracing like steel against despair. And while they spoke, the horizon darkened with dust— the Pāṇḍava legions, their banners gleaming, advanced once more.
Then from both hosts rose the roar of conches and drums, and chariots crashed against chariots, elephants against elephants, as the night of destruction deepened upon Kurukṣetra.
All this, O king, was born of thine own unrighteous counsel.