THE MAHABHARATA: A Modern Rendering, Vol 2 (42 page)
Read THE MAHABHARATA: A Modern Rendering, Vol 2 Online
Authors: Ramesh Menon
Arjuna’s vayavyastra has just swept away the Trigarta army, when he hears the alarm of the Pandava forces being savaged by Bhagadatta and Supritika. Arjuna says, “He was my father Pandu’s friend, but he kills thousands of our men. Bhagadatta must die today, if I have to kill him myself.”
But as soon as Krishna turns his horses round, Susharma roars at Arjuna again, “Are you afraid to fight that your little wind has died down, Pandava? Why do you run from us at every chance?”
Krishna holds his horses and says, “Enough of these Trigartas. Burn them with the Vajra, there are more important battles to fight elsewhere.”
Already, Susharma and his brothers cloak the white chariot again in a bank of arrows. Arjuna invokes the Vajra and shoots a silver shaft charged with that final weapon at the Trigartas. It is an adamantine thunderbolt and gashes across the field in a jagged thousand-jointed streak. Like a small sun, it erupts among the Trigarta legions and nine of every ten men Susharma brought to war are pillars of ash. Susharma himself survives and some of his brothers. That king still calls arrogantly to Arjuna, “Fight me to the end, Pandava. You will not live to see the sun set. Fight me if you dare!”
Arjuna says in amazement, “Susharma isn’t dead. You decide, Krishna, shall I fight him or ride against Bhagadatta?”
Without a word, Krishna turns his chariot back to the Trigartas. His ire up, because he can hear the screams of the Pandava army beset by Supritika, Arjuna faces Susharma and his men. Arrows radiate from the Gandiva like rays from a star and he lights up the field with a clutch of astras. The Trigartas have not yet seen such battle from Arjuna: he wilts them. He takes Satyaratha’s head off with a crescent-tipped shaft, like the one with which Drona killed Satyajit and attacks Susharma himself with such violence that king faints. The rest of his men, those left alive, take to their heels.
Krishna laughs, “At last you fight as you can. One man has wiped out the dreaded Trigarta legion. Today I am proud of my kshatriya!”
And Arjuna’s heart is full with his sarathy’s rare praise. They turn back to the main Kaurava army on Kurukshetra. Seeing the gandharva horses, a cheer goes up from the Pandava ranks. Like a bright and dangerous wind comes Arjuna and Kaurava soldiers run from him for their lives. Their roars turn quickly to cries of fear. Seeing how many of his men had died while he fought the Trigartas, Arjuna blazes on Kurukshetra like Siva’s son Karttikeya did when he fought Tarakasura’s fell legions!
Krishna steers his chariot to confront Bhagadatta. The Pandava and the Asura fight. The air is an opaqueness of arrows, some plain and sharp, others astras, locking with each other, burning the sky. Bhagadatta prods Supritika with his goad so the elephant rushes at Arjuna’s chariot. The Pandava does not have the heart to shoot the magnificent beast, so, at the last moment, Krishna has to veer out of the way and the colossus thunders by, his tread missing the chariot by a hand’s width.
Swirling his mount round with astonishing speed, Bhagadatta covers Arjuna with arrows. Arjuna fights back powerfully and Bhagadatta begins to shoot more at Krishna than his warrior. He burns him with flaming shafts, while the dark sarathy bears no arms and can make no reply. Bhagadatta has remembered that Krishna killed his father Narakasura and means to have revenge. In fury, Arjuna cuts the demon’s bow in shards. At once, fourteen eerie lances appear one after another in Bhagada-tta’s hands; he casts them, bands of light, at Krishna. Arjuna smashes them in the air with some ethereal archery.
Arjuna aims at Supritika’s armor, cutting it away piece by piece. Bhagadatta casts a livid shakti at Krishna. Arjuna snuffs its fires in flight and the next two missiles. With a roar, Bhagadatta casts another shakti at Arjuna himself, knocking his crown askew. Smiling, the Pandava rights the jeweled kirita with his hand, while the Gandiva still streams arrows, miraculously! Once more, he breaks Bhagadatta’s bow.
Maddened that this mere boy shames him yet again, the lord of the mountain chants a deep mantra and hurls the elephant-goad in his hand at his antagonist. The goad turns into an occult ayudha, which lights up earth and sky with towering flames, as it flares at Arjuna. The Pandava shoots ten arrows, quick as thoughts, at the infernal thing. It consumes them easily and flies on at him. A cry goes up from Yudhishtira’s men that Arjuna would be killed. At the last instant, Krishna stands up and receives the weapon in his chest!
A flash of light as of a star exploding: then, utter darkness for another moment. When the darkness clears, Krishna stands smiling, unhurt and the vaishnavastra that Bhagadatta cast has turned into a garland of blue lotuses around the Avatara’s neck. Rapturous cheering echoes across the Pandava ranks. Bheema hugs Yudhishtira, crying, “They are both alive!”
But Arjuna says, “Krishna, he cast the astra at me; why did you take it upon yourself? You swore to be just my sarathy.”
Krishna smiles, “A sarathy will save his kshatriya’s life, won’t he? Besides, I only took back what was mine.”
“How is that?”
“It was the vaishnavastra he cast at you, which Bhumi Devi begged from Vishnu for her son Nar-akasura. Naraka was invincible for it, until I killed him. Before he died, he gave the astra to his son. It is not only an astra of fire, Arjuna; it protects whoever has it against every other weapon. The vaish-nava was Bhagadatta’s strength and his elephant’s. Now you can kill them.”
Arjuna raises the Gandiva again. He feels a new current of power in his fingers. He looses an orient shaft at the white elephant Supritika. It hums into the beast’s lofty brow, from where Arjuna has shot away the armor. Splitting the creature’s temples as thunder does a mountain, the arrow of golden wings pierces deep into the animal’s brain, like a snake into an anthill and, with a long scream, the pale giant sinks to his knees, already dead. Bhagadatta roars in shock. Another crescent-headed shaft from Arjuna crashes into his chest, cleaving his old heart and the lord of Pragjyotishapura falls from his elephant’s back, dead himself.
Jubilation breaks out among the Pandavas. Both armies stop fighting and gather thickly around the fallen ancient. Arjuna climbs down from his chariot and approaches the dead asura. Folding his hands to one of the last kshatriyas from a bygone age and both his fathers, Pandu and Indra’s, friend besides, Arjuna walks around Bhagadatta in a reverent pradakshina.
It is high noon when Bhagadatta dies. Soon, the fighting resumes, fiercer than ever. The Kauravas surge forward to avenge their slain warrior. But now Arjuna leads the Pandava army: resplendent in his chariot, inspired by his triumph over the Trigartas and Bhagadatta. He kills hundreds of enemy soldiers, burns them with many fires. Shakuni’s brothers ride to challenge Arjuna. From two sides, they attack him at once. They are gifted archers. But the ambidextrous Arjuna switches the Gandiva from hand to hand and he kills both in a moment, so you cannot tell which one dies first: the one whom he shot through the heart, or the other whose neck he severed.
Roaring shrilly to see his brothers die, Shakuni flies at Arjuna. Serpent’s eyes glinting, he raises a soft hand and casts a spell at the Pandava. The earth cracks open; a pride of lions leaps from the fissure and surrounds Arjuna’s chariot! But Shakuni’s maya has no power over the Gandiva. A gleaming arrow dissolves the beasts and the moment’s fright they brought.
Arjuna roars at Shakuni, “This is war, not a game of dice! Come, fight me if you dare.”
He covers Shakuni’s chariot with flames from the Gandiva. His rage forgotten, Shakuni bolts, the Pandava soldiers laughing at him. Arjuna pulls on his bowstring and Kurukshetra trembles with that sound, even as Lanka did when Rama once pulled on the Kodanda at the gates of that evil city. The Kaurava soldiers run to Drona to save them from the dreadful Pandava.
Bheema, Satyaki, Dhrishtadyumna, Abhimanyu, Nakula, Sahadeva, Shikhandi and Draupadi’s sons are beside Arjuna at the head of the army. Drona rides against his invincible sishya. Dhrish-tadyumna sallies to meet him, unnerving the master. With Arjuna back, Yudhishtira comes to fight again. Some of Dhritarashtra’s sons confront him. Seeing his father unsure of himself before Dhrish-tadyumna, as bright as the fire from which he was born, Aswatthama dashes to his side. Drona’s son fights like another Arjuna. In fury at all the death inflicted on the Kaurava army today and for the honor of his father who commands Duryodhana’s legions, Aswatthama fights like ten kshatriyas.
Neela, prince of Mahishmati, a splendid archer, has killed five hundred Kaurava soldiers. Aswat-thama rounds on him. Valiantly though that prince fights, he is no match for Drona’s son. Aswat-thama cracks his bow and, without waiting for Neela to pick up another weapon, cuts his head off with a scythe-tipped shaft. In rage, the Pandavas surround their guru’s son. At once, twenty Kaurava warriors appear at his side and the battle spreads evenly again.
Mace in hand, Bheema leaps out of his chariot and fells anyone foolish enough to stand before him. Drona turns to the son of Vayu and now Karna goes with him. Seeing Karna, Krishna steers Arjuna’s chariot straight at him. At once, the fighting stops everywhere; all eyes are on the two sworn enemies. Their rivalry has been a legend for so long. For so long millions of men have waited for the moment when Arjuna and Karna would meet on Kurukshetra.
Karna wastes no time, or paltry weapons; he greets Arjuna with an agneyastra. Quicker than seeing, Arjuna extinguishes the weapon of fire with one of the blue sea, a varunastra like a river from his bow. It is a breathless moment on Kurukshetra, when the two astras meet like a wave and an island of flames and subside against each other. But then, as if the time for these two heroes to fight has not yet come, other warriors join the fray and the battle becomes diffuse again.
Still buoyed by his victories of the morning, Arjuna kills Shatrunjaya, in a carmine flash. Dhrishtadyumna rages as if he is in contention with Arjuna, to see which of them can kill more of the enemy. Now they fight in knots of kshatriyas: Dhrishtadyumna, Satyaki, Arjuna and Abhimanyu against Drona, Karna, Aswatthama and Duryodhana. The sun sinks, at last, on the frenetic spectacle and conches boom to call an end to the twelfth day of the war.
There is no doubt to whom the day belongs. Arjuna has destroyed the Trigarta army and a thousand other Kaurava soldiers; and Drona could not take Yudhishtira. A red-eyed Duryodhana comes to his Acharya, his Senapati. He does not come alone, but with many of his brothers and some of the other kings, his allies.
When he speaks to his master, Duryodhana’s voice is soft, but his words are like knives. “Sush-arma lured Arjuna away from Yudhishtira and he lost most of his army and his brothers. You had all morning to take Yudhishtira, but you did not. Either you are no more the warrior you once were, or your love for the Pandavas prevents you from keeping your oath. I never asked you to do anything special for me; you made the offer. We pinned our hope on you, Acharya. Susharma sacrificed his army and his brothers’ lives; but you broke your word.”
Bheeshma had grown used to Duryodhana’s sharpness. But Drona is not his Pitama. The Acharya rasps, “You know I did everything I could! And I would have had him, but Yudhishtira fled. Before he returned, Arjuna was back.”
Duryodhana says nothing to this, but his mood does not change. If anything, his silence is more contemptuous that his words were. His face burning, Drona cries, “I swear I will kill one of their best warriors tomorrow. I will kill a maharathika for you. There is a vyuha for such hunting: the chakra. Tomorrow, we will form our legions in the chakra vyuha and snare a great kshatriya. None of the Pandavas, except Arjuna, knows how the chakra vyuha is breached. He must be lured away again and I will kill you an archer who has killed ten thousand of our men!”
A slow smile breaks on Duryodhana’s face. He turns to Susharma, who says, “I will take Arjuna far away and tomorrow he won’t escape us.”
Duryodhana hardly believes this. But he is happy to allow Susharma to sacrifice himself for the life of one of the Pandava maharathikas. One warrior who had killed ten thousand men was worth Susharma’s life and his brothers’. Drona nods curtly, turns on his heel and walks away. Within him, he seethes; he even thinks fleetingly of renouncing his command. But he was not born a kshatriya and being Senapati of the army of Hastinapura is not a charge the ambitious Acharya will easily relinquish. He swallows his pride and promises himself he will prove worthy of his position. Tomorrow, Duryodhana would lavish his praise on him. Drona’s vow is to cost the Pandavas dearly.
Dawn of the thirteenth day of the war, the third of Drona’s command: the sun rises amidst weird haloes, portending some tragedy. Tall and grim, Drona stalks on to the field, a man who has left conscience behind him. He deploys his legions in the chakra vyuha, phalanx of the spinning wheel. The formation is almost flower-like, with Duryodhana at its heart and around him ring upon ring of kshatriyas. Karna, Dusasana and Kripa are among the inmost layer; in the next, is Jayadratha with his aksauhini. At Jayadratha’s side is Aswatthama and Duryodhana’s brothers form the next ring of the chakra. Shakuni, Kritavarman, Shalya, Bhoorisravas and their legions are the outer rim of the wheeling flower, with Drona himself beyond the perimeter. On the fateful thirteenth day, all the Kaurava soldiers wear red clothes and garlands of red flowers and from afar, by the light of dawn, it seems that a gigantic carmine lotus has bloomed upon the earth: a blood lotus.