THE MAHABHARATA: A Modern Rendering, Vol 2 (66 page)

Arjuna sees briefly with Krishna’s eyes and sees the splendor of Karna. But his sarathy’s moment of eulogy is past. He says quickly, “He covers the earth with our soldiers’ corpses
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and he must die. Look how his face shines with unearthly light. Heaven’s touch is upon him and his days of sorrow on earth are over. Arjuna, prepare yourself for the battle for which you were born.”

Meanwhile, wounded by Karna, Yudhishtira has taken to his tent and his bed. His body is a flame of pain and his mind a sad fire. He had never wanted this war and it was even more terrible than he had feared. His gentle soul is mortified by the relentless bloodshed of seventeen days. Now, when Karna humiliates him, his spirit can hardly bear the strain any more. Arjuna had said he would raze the enemy’s best warriors by himself. But Karna has sway over Kurukshetra, while Arjuna does little to stop him.

An abyss yawns before the despairing Yudhishtira. Now that Karna leads the Kaurava legions, the Pandava is full of fear. His own defeat at the sutaputra’s hands seems ominous to him. Yudhishtira lies alone in his tent, in agony, his thoughts all black. From the field of dharma, Yama’s field, the screams of the men Karna kills waft in to him and he covers his ears.

As Arjuna and Krishna ride toward Karna, a worried Bheema appears in their path. He says, “Karna wounded him and Yudhishtira left the field.”

Arjuna cries, “I must see my brother. I cannot fight until I am sure he is well and I have his blessing.

Krishna turns back to the camp; he brings the chariot to Yudhishtira’s tent. Yudhishtira sees them enter and springs up from his bed. His face lights up and he clasps Arjuna with the cry, “You have killed him! With Karna dead, the war will end. I am so proud of you, Arjuna. Awake or asleep, I always saw the sutaputra’s face before me; why, the universe seemed to be full of just Karna. With which astra did you kill him?”

Arjuna says, “I haven’t fought Karna yet. Bheema told us you were wounded and we came to see you. But bless me now and I will keep my oath.”

A spasm of darkness twitches on Yudhishtira’s face. He flashes at his brother, “Coward! I counted on you. Shame on you, Arjuna, yours is a hollow fame. The Gandiva is just an ornament in your hands. Give it to me, I will go and kill the suta myself!”

Arjuna’s face turns red and he draws his sword to kill his brother, but Krishna lays a hand on his arm. He says, “He only means to rouse you to kill your enemy.”

Yet, for a moment the brothers stand glaring at each other. Arjuna breathes, “I swore secretly to the Gandiva that I would cut off the head of any man that said ‘Give the Gandiva to me.’“

The moment is fraught with danger, then the darkness leaves Yudhishtira; with a cry, he embraces Arjuna
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. “Karna humiliated me before both armies. Oh, he is formidable. He is greater than Pitama or the Acharya. He fights like Indra and I fear for us all. Most of all for you, my Arjuna, because surely no one else can kill him. I am sorry I spoke cruelly to you, but I will have no peace until this terrible man is dead.”

The brothers embrace again, then Yudhishtira says, “Go now, my child. Go with my blessing and return victorious!”

Arjuna touches his feet and Krishna and he leave the tent. They have their horses rubbed down and give them water to drink. They refresh themselves, then climb into the white chariot and ride slowly into battle again.

As they go, Krishna says quietly, “You have sworn to kill Karna and so you shall. But remember he is a noble antagonist. He has Agni’s energy, Vayu’s speed and Yama’s wrath
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. Never forget, Arjuna, that he is the best archer in the world.” Arjuna stiffens. Krishna goes on, “Yes, he is not merely your equal, he is better than you are. Karna defeated all the kings of the earth, just as you did during the Rajasuya. When he won a bride for Duryodhana, he vanquished the lord of Kasi by himself. Why, Karna is the only man who humbled Jarasandha, whom I could not face in battle.

Remember all this, Arjuna. Never for a moment allow yourself to think he is just a sutaputra and you will beat him easily. If you fight this enemy with that thought in your heart, he will kill you. There is no one like Karna. This will be the battle of your life: the one that will take you to the brink of death. Only there, at the very limits of your powers and your will, can you kill Karna. To do this thing you must become more of an archer than you have ever been: even while you fight him!”

Krishna pauses as they draw nearer, then, says, “He is a great man, none greater than him. In his way, he is a man of dharma. You, Arjuna, will have the fortune of killing an incomparable warrior.”

The Pandava says simply, “You are with me, Krishna. I will not fail.”

They arrive at the edge of the war and plunge in. Arrows from the Gandiva clear a path for them, in light, fire and blood. Ahead, they see Bheema, raging like his father Vayu when he blows as the dread north wind. Arjuna sees his brother dripping gore, most of it from Duryodhana’s brothers whom he has killed. Bheema is still not quenched; roars issue from him, like a hungry lion’s. Duryo-dhana sends Shakuni to contain him, but Bheema strikes the Gandhara king unconscious.

Bheema hears the deep thunder of the Gandiva and knows Yudhishitra is well. Truly like a mighty lion, he turns his head and roars louder than ever, in joy. Nakula and Sahadeva are also at hand and soon the four Pandavas fight side by side.

Then, Karna rides at them. He burns like hell’s flames on the field and Yudhishtira’s army cowers from him.

SEVEN
THE TASTIEST DRINK 

Inexorably, Arjuna and Karna thread their way through the armies toward each other. Arjuna breathes, “How glorious Shalya is at Karna’s chariot-head; why, he seems like you, Krishna. And, ah, how radiant Karna is!” He is quivering with excitement. “Come, my Lord, let us ride at him. Let the duel begin.”

In the other chariot, laden with tiger-skins, Shalya does not mock his warrior any more. He is awed by Karna’s virtuosity and quite forgets his promise to Yudhishtira! Not he has ever seen an archer who can hold a candle to the one riding in his chariot.

Now, Shalya says, “Look, Arjuna rides at us. Your time has come, Karna, kill the Pandava. As for me, I take back everything I said earlier. Now I say to you: truly, truly, you are the greatest archer in the world! I had not dreamt that any man could wield a bow as you do. Not Aswatthama, Drona or Bheeshma is your equal. I want you to know I am proud to be your sarathy. Once, already, you won the earth for Duryodhana. Kill Arjuna today and make a gift of the world to your friend for the second time!”

Karna is speechless. Tears well in his eyes and stream in the wind. When he finds his voice, he says, “My lord! You fill me with joy. Though I know better than anyone what an archer Arjuna is, for Duryodhana’s sake I will do my best to kill him today. Take me to my enemy, Shalya, the hour of reckoning has come.”

Duryodhana sees Karna’s chariot and Arjuna’s fly at each other, like two comets in the vaults of space. A pang in his heart, he sends some of his brothers into the fray. A general battle breaks out as the bloodthirsty Bheema bursts upon those sons of Dhritarashtra.

Satyaki cuts down Karna’s son Sushena in an arrowstorm, mangling the youth’s chest. In fury, Karna beheads Dhrishtadyumna’s son. Five Panchalas surround him: Shikhandi, Janamejaya, Yuddhamanyu, Uttamaujas and Dhrishtadyumna himself. Not five of them together are any match for Karna. Swiftly, in a realm of archery they can neither fathom nor endure, they are beaten back. Saty-aki joins them and more Panchala warriors. Karna holds them all at bay. Kshatriyas from both sides stream in to balance the encounter: to Karna’s exasperation and Arjuna’s. A hundred battling chariots separate them.

With a shout, Duryodhana rides into that cauldron and a score of his brothers with him, Dusasana leading the rest. Bheema sees Dusasana and, eyes shining, turns on him. But Dusasana fights as if destiny lays its hand on his head, blessing him.

Bheema roars, “How many years I have waited for this moment!”

Dusasana roars back, “And I, Bheema, even longer than you!”

“I owe you a debt, cousin. Remember the day you laid your vile hands on Panchali? Since then, I have thought only of when I would repay my debt to you. Have you forgotten that day, Dusasana? I have dreamt of it every night.”

His cousin replies mockingly, “I haven’t forgotten! And so much besides. Do you remember how you scurried like rats from the house of lac? How you hid in the forest like animals? You found a fine wife for yourself there: a rakshasi, well suited to you! Then, in Panchala, your brother won another wife for you. And she was such a woman! You talk of my touching her, but not that she shared the beds of all five of you. Like your mother before her, Bheema! It runs in your family.”

Bheema roars like a lion shot with arrows. Absolutely bloody-eyed, he fights on. Dusasana contains him. He means to provoke the Pandava: to make him careless and have his life.

Dusasana cries, “And I remember the day your wife stood before us in the sabha in Hastina. She was our slave that day, Bheema. She was ours to do as we pleased with her!”

Bheema’s roars explode from him more violently than ever. He is mad with anger, just as Dusasana wants him to be. Bheema casts a javelin at his cousin, a streak of wrath. Dusasana cuts it down with an arrow like time. Bheema picks up his bow again, but Dusasana breaks it in his hands. With a curse, Bheema leaps down from his chariot, mace in hand. Unmindful of the shafts Dusasana strikes him with, he runs at the Kaurava’s horses. Before Dusasana’s sarathy can turn them away, Bheema kills the lot with dreadful strokes.

In a wink, the Pandava clambers on to the chariot and one blow knocks Dusasana onto the ground. Bheema jumps down after him and plants an immense foot on his chest. Dusasana does not stir, all around them a hush falls. Bheema stands there, rolling his eyes, tossing his great head from side to side, until he spots Duryodhana.

A smile dawns on Bheema’s face, when he sees the eldest Kaurava frozen in his chariot. Ring upon ring of kshatriyas, Pandava and Kaurava, circle the fallen Dusasana and Bheema standing over him. Bheema looks at Kripa, Aswatthama, Karna and Duryodhana and he throws back his head and gives such a terrible laugh!

Bheema says to Duryodhana, “I have your brother like a sparrow in an eagle’s talons! What can you do about it, Duryodhana?”

Dusasana whimpers. Bheema growls, “So you remember everything, do you, cousin? Then you must remember that I have sworn to drink your blood. Nobody will stop me now.

Duryodhana, seventeen days ago, you sent that jackal Uluka to me with a proud message. ‘Bheema, you can carve meat on a kitchen board, but let us see how you carve my brother’s heart!’ Look at your brother now. Do you see the terror in his eyes? He begs you to save him, but you cannot. And now for sweet revenge.”

No one stirs, no one can. Quick as thinking, Bheema draws his sword and, with a clean stroke, cuts off Dusasana’s right hand, jewels and all. In the vast silence, Dusasana’s screams ring across Kurukshetra, as blood from his severed wrist gushes in a geyser over Bheema. The Pandava holds up the bloody hand and roars to the armies watching, entranced, “This is the hand that dared touch Pan-chali’s hair!”

Dusasana screams on, but Bheema has not finished. Smoothly, he opens a gash on Dusasana’s breast with the tip of his sword. Kneeling in a flash, he tears his cousin’s chest open with his fingers, exposing his heart. Dusasana screams his last, as Bheema bends like an unimaginable beast of prey and drinks at the scarlet font. Then, he raises his bloody face, smiling and cries, “Aaaaah! The tastiest drink I have ever had!”

Dusasana lies limp on Kurukshetra. Bheema rises away from his corpse. His roar shakes the earth, “Panchali, I have avenged you! Come wash your hair in this wretch’s blood.”

Crooning in ecstasy, Draupadi runs out on to the frozen field: an exquisite and vengeful spirit! With deep cries of fulfillment, she bathes her black, loose tresses in dead Dusasana’s gushing blood, from his severed wrist, from his chest.

Ashen-faced, Duryodhana turns away from that spectacle. Karna breaks down and sobs. Shalya says firmly to him, “This is war, Karna; in war these things happen. You must not give in to grief, now Duryodhana’s fate is in just your hands. Let us find Arjuna, only his death can pay for this outrage. His death can still win the war for us.”

Shalya wheels his chariot away. Battle breaks out again on the barbarous field and the Pandava army is in great heart. Valiant as his father, Karna’s son Vrishasena rides at Bheema. He mows a bloody way through the Pandava legions and it seems no one will stop him. With a proud gleam in his eyes, Karna pauses to watch his son. Suddenly, another Pandava appears in Vrishasena’s path; one that is a dark flame in his chariot, whose bow is an arc of the moon.

Even as he had sworn to, when Abhimanyu died, Arjuna kills Karna’s son while the father watches helplessly. A golden arrow hums into Vrishasena’s chest and pierces his heart in a spurt of crimson, killing him before he can even scream. Karna’s roars echo across Kurukshetra.

EIGHT
KARNA AND ARJUNA 

Karna cries, “At him, Shalya! I must kill Arjuna.”

The death of his son has given him the anger he needs to fight his brother. As if all those countless soldiers knew the time had come, they part like two seas and the chariots of Arjuna and Karna fly at each other. The fate of the war will be decided by this battle, which would be as the heart of every other one fought on Kurukshetra.