The Mahabharata, Book 7: Drona Parva: Drona-vadha Parva: Section CLXXXVII

SECTION CLXXXVII

"Sanjaya continued, 'The warrior, O king, thus clad in mail on the field of battle, adored the thousand-rayed Aditya as he rose at morn. When the thousand-rayed luminary, of splendour bright, as burning gold, arose, and the world became illumined, the battle once more commenced. The same soldiers that were engaged with each other before the sunrise, once more fought with each other, O Bharata, after, the rise of the sun. Horsemen engaged with car-warriors, and elephants with horsemen, and foot-soldiers with elephants and horsemen with horsemen, O bull of Bharata's race. Sometimes, unitedly and sometimes separately, the warriors, fell upon one another in battle. Having fought vigorously in the night, many, tired with exertion, and weak with hunger and thirst became deprived of their senses. The uproar made of the blare of conchs, the beat of drums,

1 At that time, in consequence of the carnivorous animals and the dead and the dying, there was no path for the cars all over the field. Afflicted with shafts steeds of the noblest breed and high mettle, resembling elephants (in size and strength), worn out with toil, were seen to tremble with great effort, as they drew vehicles whose wheels had sunk in the earth. The whole of that host, O Bharata, resembling the ocean for vastness, then became agitated, and afflicted, inspired with terror, with the exception only of Drona and Arjuna. Those two became the refuge, these two became the saviours, of the warriors of their respective sides. Others, encountering these two proceeded to the abode of Yama. Then the vast host of the Kurus became greatly agitated, and the Panchalas, huddled together, became no longer distinguishable. During that great carnage of the Kshatriyas on earth, on that field of battle, enhancing the terrors of the timid and looking like a crematorium neither Karna, nor Drona, nor Arjuna, nor Yudhishthira, nor Bhimasena, nor the twins, nor the Panchala prince, nor Satyaki, nor Duhsasana, nor Drona's son, nor Duryodhana nor Suvala's son, nor Kripa, nor the ruler of the Madras, nor Kritavarman, nor others, nor my own self, nor the earth, nor points of the compass, could be seen, O king, for all of them, mingled with the troops, were shrouded by clouds of dust. During the

nor uneven land. The warriors, desirous of victory, slew foes and friends, in fact, all whom they could perceive by the touch of their hands. The earthly dust that had arisen was soon dispelled by the winds that blew, and drenched by the blood that was shed. Elephants and steeds and car-warriors and foot-soldiers, bathed in blood, looked beautiful like the (celestial) forest of Parijata. Then Duryodhana, Karna, Drona and Duhsasana, these four (Kauravas) warriors engaged in battle with four of the Pandava warriors, Duryodhana and his brothers, encountered the twins (Nakula and Sahadeva). And Radha's son engaged himself with Vrikodara, and Arjuna with the son of Bharadwaja, all the troops, from every side, looked on that terrible encounter. The car-warriors (of both armies quietly) beheld that beautiful, that superhuman engagement between those fierce and foremost of car-warriors conversant with every mode of warfare, riding on their own beautiful cars that performed diverse delightful evolutions. Endued with great prowess, struggling vigorously, and each solicitous of vanquishing the other, they covered each other with showers of shafts, like the clouds at the close of summer (pouring torrents of rain). Those bulls among men, riding on their cars of solar effulgence, looked beautiful like congregated masses of clouds in the autumnal sky. Then those warriors, O monarch, filled with wrath and desire of revenge, mighty bowmen all, challenging, rushed at one another with great vigour like infuriated leaders of elephantine herds. Verily, O king, death does not take place till its hour comes, since all those warriors did not simultaneously perish in that battle. Strewn with lopped off arms and legs, and heads decked with beautiful ear-rings, and bows and arrows and lances and scimitars and battle-axes and (other kinds of) axes, and Nalihas and razor-headed arrows and cloth-yard shafts and darts and diverse kinds of beautiful armour, and beautiful cars broken into pieces, and slain elephants and standardless cars broken like cities, and vehicles dragged hither and thither with the speed of the wind by driverless steeds in great fright, and a large number of well-decked warriors of great courage, and fallen fans and coats of mail and standards, and ornaments and robes and fragrant garlands, and chains of gold and diadems and crowns and head-gears and rows of bells, and jewels worn on breasts, and cuirasses and collars and gems that adorn head-gears, the field of battle looked beautiful like the firmament bespangled with stars.'

'Then there occured an encounter between Duryodhana, filled with wrath and desire of revenge, and Nakula filled with the same feelings. Madri's son cheerfully shooting hundreds of shafts, placed thy son on his right. At this loud cheers were bestowed upon him. Placed on the right by his cousin-brother in wrath, thy son king Duryodhana, filled with rage, began, in battle, to wonderfully counteract Nakula from that very side.

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Footnotes

436:1 I adopt the Bombay reading of the first line of this verse.