Mahabharata: A Modern Retelling (50 page)

“It’s true that I would rather lose my life

than fight Drona, to whom I owe everything.

But my promise to you stands—I have never

made a vow and left it unredeemed.”

Watching from some vantage point, O king,

a connoisseur of horses could have counted

horses dappled like the antelope,

horses pale as the moon, pale as milk,

pigeon-colored horses, dark blue stallions,

horses the color of fresh mustard flowers,

horses red as the red deer, with flashes

of startling white on their chests and necks,

dark spotted horses, others honey brown,

still others black as impenetrable night,

beautiful cream horses with black manes,

glossy chargers gleaming like polished wood;

delicate Sindhu horses, dusky as smoke—

so many lovely ones, thousands and thousands,

many decorated with gold chains,

yoked to splendid chariots.

And above them

flew the gorgeous individual standards

of each chariot warrior: Drona’s, black

deerskin, emblazoned with a water vessel.

Bhima’s bore a gigantic silver lion,

its eyes picked out in lapis lazuli;

Yudhishthira’s had a golden moon device

with planets circling it; Sahadeva’s

bore a silver goose, and Abhimanyu’s

a sharngaka bird, bright as beaten gold.

On Ghatotkacha’s standard was a vulture,

and his enchanted horses were capable

of flying through the air as he commanded.

But in the desperate battle, there was no time

for appreciation. There was only

confusion, fear, anger, mad excitement

and savage joy as arrows or spears sank home

and enemies fell, wounded, dead or dying.”

Countless heroes engaged in single combat—

Bhima inflicted wounds on Vivinshati;

Shakuni felled Sahadeva’s charioteer;

Shikhandin, adept at all types of weapon,

pierced Bhurishravas with ninety shafts,

causing him to tremble and retreat.

Shalya hit his nephew Nakula,

smiling as if it were a joke. Nakula,

furious, shot Shalya’s bow out of his hand.

Abhimanyu, Arjuna’s heroic son,

alight with zeal, fought like one inspired,

leaping from ground to chariot and back

like a gymnast, wielding bow and sword.

Shalya fought with Bhima. They resembled

two massive elephants, circling each other,

each with a hefty mace. Sparks flew up

as their weapons clashed like thunderbolts.

They hit each other simultaneously

and both were stunned. Then Kritavarman hauled

Shalya into his chariot and drove him off.

At the sight of this retreat, the Kauravas

felt despondent—and indeed, the tide

was turning in favor of the Pandavas.

Drona made more than one attempt to reach

Yudhishthira, but he was beaten back

and hit with many arrows. Then, in rage,

he advanced toward Yudhishthira’s chariot

looking like all-destroying Death himself.

All the Pandavas who saw him coming

cried in alarm, “Yudhishthira is lost!”

But Arjuna, seeming to spring from nowhere,

killing men by the hundred as he came,

covered Drona’s troops with a shower of arrows

so dense, the sky turned black. And in due time

the sun itself was setting. Drona ordered

withdrawal for the night.

He was cast down.

He had fought hard, had inflicted damage,

forcing an opening through the Pandavas,

yet he had been unable to deliver

Yudhishthira as Duryodhana had asked.

He knew the prince was likely to suspect him

of lacking determination. “I told you,”

said Drona, “that to take Yudhishthira

would be impossible with Arjuna by.

Tomorrow, if Arjuna can be distracted,

I’ll lay hold of Yudhishthira—you’ll see.”

The Trigartas, who hated Arjuna

for past humiliations, volunteered

to challenge him to combat at a place

a little distance off. They were five brothers,

brave kshatriyas and skillful fighters,

whose frequent and abundant gifts to brahmins

assured them of good fortune in the field

or, if not, in the afterlife. They led

a strong alliance—brave, committed forces.

Priests presided over a consecration

and the Trigartas swore a solemn vow

to conquer, or to die in the attempt.

“Arjuna will never refuse a challenge.

If we retreat, may we share the fate

of the most heinous sinners in the world.

Let the earth be rid of Arjuna,

or let it see the death of the Trigartas!”

Sanjaya continued:

As they had predicted, Arjuna

was fired up by the prospect of the fight.

Yudhishthira was worried, but Arjuna

assured him that Satyajit, Drupada’s son,

would surround him with a large defensive force.

“But if Satyajit should be killed in battle,

then you should quit the field immediately.”

Then, with a picked band of champion fighters,

Arjuna rode out after the Trigartas

like a hungry lion, avid for the kill.

Sighting him, the Trigartas raised a cry,

exultant and threatening. Arjuna smiled.

“Listen to them,” he said to dark-skinned Krishna,

“shouting with joy when they should be terrified.

But, after all, perhaps they should be joyful,

bound for a place where no fool can pester them.”

Though the Trigartas and their men were full

of resolution, at the dreadful sound

of
Devadatta
, Arjuna’s conch, they froze

as if in thrall, deprived of all volition.

Recovering, they loosed a rain of arrows

which Arjuna intercepted in mid-flight.

There followed a tremendous battle. Krishna

drove the chariot swiftly, skillfully,

and wherever Arjuna advanced,

hundreds died. At the same time, the Trigartas

unleashed such a punishing storm of arrows

that Krishna and Arjuna could hardly see

and were wounded countless times. The Trigartas,

counting on victory, were overjoyed,

cheering, waving their garments in the air.

But Arjuna employed the
Tvashtri
weapon

to create illusion, so Trigartas

fought Trigartas thinking they were killing

Arjuna. Men, mounted or on foot,

scattered like rats fleeing a hungry hound.

But the Trigartas were not beaten yet.

In fury, they kept fighting back, releasing

torrents of arrows and razor-edged spears.

Then, with broad-headed shafts, Arjuna

dispatched thousands of the enemy,

slicing off their helmeted heads, their hands

still grasping weapons. Billowing clouds of dust

stirred up by the frenzy of the battle

were turned to mud by copious showers of blood

spilled by Arjuna. So terrifying

was his assault on the Trigarta troops

that at one point they started to retreat

in fear, until their king exhorted them:

“Are you deathless heroes—or are you cowards?

Have you not sworn to conquer or to die?

Return! Redeem your pledge, no matter what!”

So it was that the Trigartas fought

on and on, until the land was littered

with mutilated bodies, dead and dying

jumbled one on another. The air rang

with a cacophony of groans and cries.

The blood-soaked earth resembled a broad field

of poppies, stretching out in all directions.

Anxious for Yudhishthira, Arjuna

and Krishna turned toward the main battle.

There, Drona, bent on seizing Yudhishthira,

led his men in an eagle formation—

the wings outstretched, the back made up of hosts

of foot soldiers, chariots, elephants.

At the tail rode Karna, tall, magnificent,

leading his troops, allies, friends and kinsmen.

Kings, warriors, were glorious in the sun,

their banners flying, armor flashing light;

some rode high on mountainous elephants.

The entire army was in fighting fettle,

mad with lust for blood and victory.

Seeing them advance like a tidal wave,

knowing their whole intent was to capture him,

Yudhishthira turned to Dhrishtadyumna. “Friend,

you should do whatever is necessary

to prevent my being taken prisoner.”

Drupada’s son reassured him. At once

he shouted to his charioteer to gallop

straight for Drona. The teacher’s heart quaked,

knowing that Dhrishtadyumna would bring his death.

But one of your valiant sons, Durmukha,

rushed to his defense, and fought so fiercely

with Dhrishtadyumna that Drona got away

and began to slaughter the Pandava army

in huge numbers. Soon any resemblance

to two disciplined forces disappeared.

Each man lashed out wildly, with no regard

for battle etiquette or decency.

To spectators looking down on them

the scene was like the panic-stricken stampede

of cattle when a tiger comes among them,

trampling each other in blind desperation

to survive.

Sighting Yudhishthira,

Drona made toward him, but at once

a warning cry rose from a thousand throats

as the Pandava forces saw the danger.

Satyajit, as he had promised Arjuna,

loosed a powerful weapon spiked with venom.

Drona’s charioteer fell senseless. Next,

the horses were attacked, and Satyajit,

circling Drona, cut down his fine standard.

Drona resolved that this would be the last

battle for Satyajit, and though that hero

fought courageously and skillfully,

at last his head was severed from his shoulders,

earrings flashing as it fell to earth.