What about your slaughter of Bhurishravas
after Arjuna had cut off his arm,
and as he was sitting fasting unto death?
Was that a righteous act? And yet you dare
to censure me! Not one more word from you!”
Hearing this, Satyaki’s eyes bulged red.
He seized his mace, and started to rush over
to Dhrishtadyumna, with murderous intent;
but Bhima leapt up and, planting his feet,
wrapped his arms around the furious Vrishni
and held him fast. Sahadeva spoke,
“We are all friends here, and have been for years.
Surely this hostility makes no sense.
What quality is better than forgiveness?”
But the two strong antagonists continued
roaring at each other like raging bulls.
Finally, only Krishna could calm them down.
The Kauravas were in good heart again,
encouraged by the sight of Ashvatthaman.
He invoked the weapon called Narayana,
more damaging than any so far seen.
It released into the sky thousands of arrows,
razor-edged discuses, and iron balls
which in turn exploded into hundreds
of metal darts, spraying down like rain
over a wide area, piercing thousands.
Once in the body, the darts bent and twisted
inflicting terrible internal wounds.
Those who were able started to run away
and Yudhishthira, shocked at the fierceness
and scale of the attack, was in despair,
and was ready to surrender.
But Krishna
halted the fleeing troops. “Stop, all of you.
Lay down your weapons, leave your chariots
and stand still. Do not let yourselves even
imagine fighting. In this way, Narayana
will not harm you.” The troops obeyed. But Bhima,
full of swagger, proposed that, single-handed,
he would resist the Narayana weapon
and overcome it. He started to attack
and was overwhelmed immediately.
Only because Arjuna intervened,
using his Varuna weapon to neutralize
Narayana, did Bhima survive. Krishna
rebuked him, and made him cast away his mace.
All at once, everything was calm;
sweet breezes blew, birds sang, men and animals
became cheerful, and geared up once more
for battle.
“Use Narayana again!”
cried Duryodhana. Ashvatthaman answered,
“That is impossible. This is a weapon
that cannot be used twice.” With normal weapons,
Drona’s son rode out against the Pandavas,
and many warriors were severely wounded.
Arjuna, cast down by what had happened,
lashed out at Ashvatthaman. “You are proud
of your accomplishments, proud of your love
for the Kauravas, of your hatred for us.
Dhrishtadyumna who has killed your father
will follow that by crushing your pride too!”
Ashvatthaman, hurt and furious, invoked
the incendiary Agneya weapon. At once,
a choking darkness blotted out the field,
and blazing arrows rained down, burning all
they touched. A fiercely scorching wind blew, hotter
and hotter. The clouds rained blood. Desperate beasts
bucked and stampeded, breathing in great drafts
of burning air. Men’s cries were pitiful.
It was the stuff of nightmares, multiplied.
The watching Kauravas began to cheer
to see their enemies so afflicted,
but before they could draw a second breath,
Arjuna invoked the Brahma weapon
to neutralize the terrible Agneya.
Instantly, darkness lifted and cool winds
began to blow. Now the devastation
could be seen—burnt bodies everywhere;
one complete division had been reduced
to a single welded mass of blackened flesh.
But there was joy, too, at finding how many
warriors had survived. Krishna and Arjuna
blew their conches in triumph and relief.
Ashvatthaman was disconsolate
and, laying down his bow, he left the field
and ran off aimlessly. As he wandered,
he met Vyasa. Ashvatthaman’s voice
was choked with grief. “O wise sir, is there no truth
anywhere? How can this have happened?
No one in the three worlds is capable
of baffling the Agneya weapon, and yet
only one enemy legion was destroyed
before it petered out. And Arjuna
and Krishna are still alive! Was there some fault
in the way I summoned up Agneya?”
Vyasa explained. “Mighty Narayana
in a previous existence, long ago,
as a reward for disciplined devotion
to Lord Shiva, was granted boons by him.
Nara was born as his close companion,
and each of them would be invincible.
In this earthly life, they have taken
the human forms of Krishna and Arjuna.
You too have a divine origin.
You are a portion of the great Lord Shiva.
Honor Krishna, whom Shiva greatly loves.”
Calmed by these words, Ashvatthaman did so,
and called a halt to fighting for the day.
Then Vyasa visited the Pandavas.
Arjuna spoke with him. “Master, tell me
what this strange thing means: several times,
as I have gone into battle, I have seen,
gliding in front of me, a shining figure,
lance in hand, whose feet do not touch the ground.
He never throws the lance but, at his approach,
the enemy forces break. People think
I have destroyed them, but they have already
been destroyed by him, as if a thousand
lances issue from the lance he holds.”
“It is Lord Shiva you have seen,” said Vyasa,
“lord of the universe, all-powerful god,
the deathless deity of many names.
He is acting for you. Go forth, Arjuna.
With Krishna as your counselor and friend,
be confident that victory will be yours.”
VIII
THE BOOK OF KARNA
42.
KARNA IN COMMAND
Two days later, Karna, now appointed
the next supreme commander, met his death,
cursed and alone, at the hands of Arjuna.
Sanjaya brought the news to the blind king,
sparing him nothing, and reproaching him.
“Knowing that this disaster is the outcome
of your own failings, do you not despair?
Thinking of the loss of the greatest heroes—
Bhishma, Drona, Karna . . . do you not despair?
Remembering the words of your counselors
which you ignored, do you not despair?”
“If the blind king,” said Janamejaya,
“hearing of Bhishma’s fall, then Drona’s death
and now the death of Karna, his great hope—
if the old king did not die of sorrow,
then that is remarkable indeed.”
Dhritarashtra fainted, as did Gandhari
and the other women. Every last hope
for Duryodhana’s victory had been pinned
on Karna. Now the old king feared the worst.
“I do despair,” he groaned. “I cannot believe
that
such invincible heroes could be dead!
And what of my son—is he also dead?”
His legs buckled under him; he burned with grief.
“Duhshasana is dead,” said Sanjaya;
“Duryodhana still lives.” Dhritarashtra,
slightly recovering, begged Sanjaya
to tell him exactly how Karna had died.
“I will,” said Sanjaya, “but a wise man
does not despair, since the gods determine
whether or not effort is rewarded.”
“You are right,” said Dhritarashtra. “I will not
despair over-much. Now, tell me everything.”
After Drona’s brutal, unlawful killing,
the Kauravas spent the night in misery.
Duryodhana and his main advisers
sat together, hour after hour, talking.
Sleep eluded them. They kept reflecting
on all their crimes against the Pandavas,
knowing that they were unforgivable.
Ashvatthaman urged Duryodhana
to appoint Karna as supreme commander,
praising his great prowess. Before dawn
the appropriate rites were carried out.
Karna was consecrated with sacred water.
Luxurious gifts were lavished upon brahmins
so they would pray for victory, and everyone
felt somewhat comforted.
and Arjuna surveyed the battlefield
and looked at their own forces forming up.
“How few men are now left in both our armies,”
said Yudhishthira. “A few short days ago,
our ranks stretched further than the eye could see,
yet now they look so pitiful. Today,
I pray you will dispatch Karna, the sole
great warrior among the Kauravas.”
Conches announced the start of the day’s battle.
Fierce fighting began. Although Arjuna
thirsted to kill Karna, repeatedly
he was drawn away by the Trigartas,
whose dedicated mission was to slay him.
They kept provoking skirmishes, like horseflies
stinging a stallion, and although they suffered
devastating losses, they persisted,
squad upon relentless squad of them.
Later, Arjuna fought Ashvatthaman,
who inflicted painful wounds on him.
Suspecting restraint, Krishna was impatient.
“Arjuna, why are you not finishing him?
Ashvatthaman is immensely dangerous
and, just as a disease, if left untreated,
will cause more trouble later, so it is
with him.” Arjuna increased his efforts.
But Ashvatthaman, knowing that Arjuna
and Krishna were invincible, withdrew.
Karna was whirling round the battlefield
standing high on his chariot, armored in gold
like the sun himself. He was formidable,
attacking the Panchalas and Srinjayas
like a lion savaging a herd of deer.
He killed hundreds, and mutilated more,
while Ashvatthaman pursued the Pandyas.
The field was littered with the jeweled limbs,
heads and trunks of numberless fallen heroes.
Karna fought a duel with Nakula.
Onlookers might have thought them evenly matched,
but Karna could have killed the younger man
with little effort, had he not borne in mind
the solemn promise he had made to Kunti.
Nakula sustained only slight wounds
and was withdrawing when Karna, with his bow,
hooked him back as if he were a fish.
“Just stick to your equals,” he said, laughing,
and let him go. Nakula shook with rage
and humiliation.
Yudhishthira
fought with Duryodhana, while their forces
battled around them. The fight was long and hard
although eventually Yudhishthira
got the better of it, and could have killed
his opponent. But Bhima, seeing this,
reminded him that he himself had vowed
to send Duryodhana to the afterlife.
So Yudhishthira withheld his weapons,
and your son, in great pain and enraged,
limped back to camp, face like a thundercloud.
The sun had almost set. But now, at last,
Karna and Arjuna met face to face—
the greatest warriors in all the world!
For each, the other was the ultimate,
the glorious partner, destiny incarnate.
Almost like lovers, ardent and obsessed,
they rushed eagerly toward each other.
Only one would walk from Kurukshetra;
the other’s blood would feed this tragic soil.
But this was not the final act, not yet.
This was not a duel between two heroes
but a fierce battle between the armies
which the heroes led. And Arjuna,
piloted by Krishna, did most damage,
thickly raking the Kauravas with arrows
without respite, so that the battle seemed
to be raging under a mesh of shafts.
Battered and wounded, hurled out of their vehicles,
crushed by their own elephants, stripped of armor,
weapons spent, the exhausted Kauravas
had never been more grateful for the dusk.
Joyless, they limped and straggled back to camp.
Late that night, in Duryodhana’s tent,
Karna took stock. “No doubt Arjuna
is a redoubtable and skilled opponent.
His bow Gandiva is celestial,
but my bow is finer—the great Vijaya
given to me by my respected teacher.
My prowess as an archer surpasses his.
No one has more courage than I do.
My will to win is absolute. But he has
Krishna—that is what makes him formidable.
Krishna advises him. Krishna inspires him.
Krishna is an unearthly charioteer,
weaving and dodging with the speed of light.
Then, too, Arjuna’s horses are immortal
and swift as thought; chariot, impregnable.
“Nevertheless, I have vowed to kill him.
Tomorrow, he will die, and I will give you
victory over all the world, or else
I myself will die attempting it.
To redress the balance of advantage,
I would like Shalya as my charioteer—
no one exceeds his expertise with horses.
If he will do it, nothing on earth can stop me.”
Knowing Shalya would certainly take umbrage
at being asked to drive for a driver’s son,
Duryodhana spoke to him with honeyed words.
When he heard your son’s proposal, Shalya
was incandescent with hurt pride and anger.
“I am a king, a distinguished warrior!
I could split the earth with my bare hands—
see the muscles on these arms of mine!
The driver’s son is vastly my inferior;
how can you ask me to be his underling?
This is an insult! I will not fight at all.
Farewell—I shall depart for my own kingdom.”
“It is an unusual request, I know,”
said Duryodhana. “I realize
that those belonging to the driver caste
should be the servants of kshatriyas,
not the reverse. And you are a great warrior,
ruler of the Madras, virulent dart
in the contemptible skin of your enemies.
But Karna was a foundling, as you know.
Look at him,
his stature, his massive chest;
think of the natural armor he was born with—
how could he really be of inferior birth?
Would his guru have taught celestial weapons
to one whom he regarded as unworthy?
“Arjuna is able to crush our forces
only because Krishna is his driver.
You are the only warrior we have
who can be compared in skill with Krishna.
Just as Karna is greater than Arjuna,
so your skill with horses is superior
by far to Krishna’s. Agree to this, my friend,
I beg you; help Karna crush the Pandavas.”
Reluctant, but flattered, Shalya acquiesced—
but specified that he would speak to Karna
as he felt inclined, not with deference.
Duryodhana, relieved, reminded him
that in the war between the gods and demons,
great Brahma acted as the charioteer
of Shiva, who was able to destroy
the triple city with a single arrow.
It was the seventeenth morning of the war.
The armies, much reduced, were riding out
to meet each other. The Kauravas rejoiced
to see Karna, resplendent on his chariot,
brilliant as the lord of light himself,
driven by Shalya. Impervious to fate,
full of cheerful trust and optimism,
they did not pay attention to dire portents—
thunder in a cloudless sky, fierce winds,
a shower of bones tumbling around them.
Karna’s horses stumbled as they set out
to tumultuous cheering from the ranks.
As they traveled, Shalya bore in mind
the promise he had made to Yudhishthira
that he would say and do all in his power
to shake Karna’s resolve and confidence.
“Do not think, Shalya, I am afraid to die,”
said Karna. “Simply, I cannot tolerate
any harm coming to Duryodhana.
Among his warriors, only I am able
to protect him and deliver victory.
With my beautiful bows, my blazing sword,
in my gorgeous chariot draped with tiger skins,
I will, today, send Arjuna to the realm
of Yama—and if all the celestials
were to combine forces to protect him,
with you as my driver I would vanquish them!”
Scornfully, Shalya laughed at him. “Stop now!
Stop these empty boasts, driver’s son,” he said.
“Think of the many brave and marvelous feats
Arjuna has performed. Remember how
he burned the Khandava Forest; how he snatched