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The Morning Assembly: Sanjaya Delivers Arjuna’s Message
Dhritarashtra passed the night in conversation with Sanatsujata and Vidura. When morning came, princes and rulers gathered eagerly to see the returned envoy and hear the Pandavas’ message concerning righteousness and the interests of the kingdom. With Dhritarashtra at their head, they entered a spacious, spotless white hall. Its floor was gold, its surfaces sprinkled with sandalwood water. Bright as the moon, it held handsome seats of gold, wood, marble, and ivory, each spread with fine coverings. Bhishma, Drona, Kripa, Shalya, Kritavarma, Jayadratha, Ashvatthama, Vikarna, Somadatta, Bahlika, Vidura, and the chariot warrior Yuyutsu entered together with the king. The angry Duryodhana led another group: Duhshasana, Chitrasena, Shakuni son of Subala, Durmukha, Duhsaha, Karna, Uluka, and Vivimshati. They followed him like gods in Indra’s train. With heroes whose arms resembled iron maces seated inside, the hall looked like a mountain cave filled with lions. Once the brilliant archers and kings had settled into their places, an attendant announced the chariot sent to the Pandavas. Well-trained horses of the Sindhu breed had brought the envoy back swiftly. Sanjaya approached, stepped down from the chariot, and entered wearing earrings. He announced his return and conveyed the sons of Pandu’s greetings to every Kuru according to age: respect to elders and the appropriate acknowledgment to equals and younger relatives. The kings should now hear what he had said to the Pandavas under Dhritarashtra’s instructions.
Dhritarashtra asked specifically for Arjuna’s words. Before his son and the assembled rulers, he wanted to hear what Dhananjaya, the warrior leader of undiminished strength, had said. Sanjaya told Duryodhana to listen. Arjuna had spoken with Yudhishthira’s permission and within Krishna’s hearing, eager for battle and confident in his own strength. He had instructed Sanjaya to deliver every word before all the Kurus, the kings gathered to fight the Pandavas, and Karna, whom he condemned as foul-tongued, wicked, foolish, and approaching the end of his days. Karna was always seeking a fight with him; he should hear the answer. The king and his counselors must miss nothing. The Pandavas and the Srinjayas had listened to Arjuna as the gods listened to Indra, bearer of the thunderbolt. His eyes were red as a lotus as he gave the message. If Dhritarashtra’s son refused to restore the kingdom to Yudhishthira of Ajamida’s line, Arjuna said, some evil deed of the Kuru sons must still be awaiting its consequence. Only that could explain their wish to fight Bhima, Arjuna, the twins likened to the Ashvins, Krishna, Satyaki of Shini’s line, Dhrishtadyumna with his unfailing weapons, Shikhandi, and Yudhishthira. The eldest Pandava resembled Indra and could consume heaven and earth simply by wishing them harm. War against such opponents would fulfill every purpose of the Pandavas. Duryodhana could choose that war if he wished; he need send them no proposal of peace.
Arjuna recalled the bed of misery Yudhishthira had endured in the forest. He wished Duryodhana a harsher final bed on the bare earth, with life gone from his body. Sanjaya should win over those who had served the unjust prince to the side of Pandu’s son, a king endowed with humility, understanding, austerity, self-command, courage, and strength governed by righteousness. Yudhishthira spoke truth and had answered repeated deception and great wrongs with patience and forgiveness. Years of anger had accumulated. When he finally directed that anger at the Kurus, Duryodhana would regret the war. As a fire spreading in the hot season consumed dry grass, the eldest Pandava’s furious glance would consume Dhritarashtra’s army. Arjuna then described what Duryodhana would see from Bhima: the warrior standing on his chariot with mace in hand, pouring out the venom of his rage. Armored and fighting at the front, Bhima would appear so terrible that even his own followers could scarcely look at him. Like Yama, lord of the dead, he would strike down heroes and devastate the ranks. Elephants tall as mountain peaks would fall, blood pouring from shattered heads as water spilled from broken vessels. Mace in hand, he would descend upon Dhritarashtra’s sons like a great lion falling upon a herd of cattle.
Bhima would face extreme danger without fear. Skilled in weapons, he would crush groups of excellent chariots and whole infantry ranks with his mace while fighting alone from his own chariot. With nooses strong as iron, he would seize the enemy elephants and cut through the army as a powerful woodsman felled a forest with his ax. Dhritarashtra’s force would resemble a settlement of straw-roofed huts consumed by fire or a field of ripe grain destroyed by lightning. Its leaders would lie dead, its soldiers would scatter with their backs to the battle, and its fallen warriors would burn under the force of Bhima’s weapons. Duryodhana would remember the warning then. Nakula would shoot hundreds of arrows with practiced skill and tear into the opposing chariot warriors. A man accustomed to comfort, he would recall the long misery of sleeping in the forest and release his anger like a furious snake releasing venom. At Yudhishthira’s command, allied kings would advance in splendid chariots, ready to surrender their lives. Draupadi’s five sons, young in years and already accomplished in arms, would charge the Kurus without concern for their own survival. The sight of them would give Duryodhana further cause to regret his choice.
Sahadeva would ride in a chariot whose wheels moved silently, its course unobstructed, its body set with golden stars, its trained horses carrying it through the fighting. Volleys of his arrows would send kings’ heads rolling on the battlefield. In the midst of that destruction he would turn left and right, striking the enemy in every direction. Modest, powerful, truthful, and versed in the ways of righteousness, he would bring speed, activity, and skill against Gandhari’s son and scatter the men around him. Sanjaya was carrying Arjuna’s forecast into the court: these were the attacks he said the coming war would bring. The repeated conclusion addressed the prince seated among his supporters. When he saw those things, Dhritarashtra’s son would regret having chosen battle.
The gist: After the night’s teaching, Sanjaya enters the royal assembly with the Pandavas’ greetings and Arjuna’s message. Refusal to restore the kingdom will bring war. Arjuna warns of Yudhishthira’s accumulated anger and the attacks Bhima, Nakula, the allied kings, Draupadi’s sons, and Sahadeva will launch.
Arjuna’s Warning: The Allied Army and Gandiva’s Arrows
Sanjaya continued the warning Arjuna had entrusted to him. Draupadi’s sons were formidable archers, trained in weapons and every method of fighting from a chariot. They would strike the enemy like snakes delivering deadly venom. Duryodhana would see them and regret this war. Abhimanyu would follow, pouring arrows onto the opposing ranks as densely as rain from a cloud. Arjuna’s son by Subhadra had learned his weapons as skillfully as Krishna himself. His years were few; his fighting energy recalled Indra. When that young warrior descended on the enemy like death, Duryodhana would regret the war again. The youthful Prabhadrakas, swift and practiced in combat, possessed the energy of lions. They would overthrow Dhritarashtra’s sons together with the troops surrounding them. Virata and Drupada would bring the experience of veteran chariot warriors to the heads of their separate divisions. From his chariot, Drupada would shoot in anger, taking young enemy warriors’ heads with his arrows. Virata would drive into the ranks with his Matsyas, whose courage remained cool under attack, grinding down the resistance before him. The Matsya king’s eldest son would stand armored in his chariot at the very front, calm and composed, fighting for the Pandavas. Arjuna named the allies one after another, attaching the same consequence to each encounter: Duryodhana would wish he had chosen differently.
Arjuna made a direct prediction about Bhishma. “When Shikhandi kills the righteous son of Shantanu in battle, all our enemies will certainly perish. I tell you this truly.” Shikhandi would advance toward the grandsire in his well-protected chariot, his powerful horses crushing opposing chariots while he overthrew the warriors attempting to stop him. Dhrishtadyumna would take his place in splendor at the front of the Srinjaya troops. Drona had taught him every mystery of the science of weapons; the pupil would now lead the Pandava army against his teacher. Able to withstand the rush of any force, he would break the Kuru ranks with arrows as he moved toward Drona. At those sights, too, Duryodhana would repent. Arjuna then spoke of the lion of the Vrishnis fighting at the front, describing him also as a chief of the Somakas: modest, intelligent, mighty, full of energy, and endowed with every kind of prosperity. What enemy could withstand an army supported by such a man? Sanjaya should tell Duryodhana to give up his hunger for the kingdom. The Pandavas had chosen Satyaki, Shini’s grandson, as one of their leaders. Fearless, powerful, and thoroughly trained in weapons, he had no equal on earth.
Arjuna described Satyaki’s broad chest, long arms, and secure grasp of a bow measuring 4 cubits. At Arjuna’s urging, that archer would release arrows like a cloud releasing rain. The downpour would engulf the opposing commanders. Once Satyaki settled his determination upon a fight, enemies fled before the encounter began, like cattle catching the scent of a lion. Arjuna credited him with strength enough to split hills and destroy the whole universe. Practice, skill, and remarkable quickness of hand made him shine in battle like the sun in the sky. This warrior of the Vrishni and Yadu line possessed extraordinary weapons and knew all the finest ways to use them. When Duryodhana saw Satyaki’s golden chariot drawn by 4 white horses, he would regret allowing his passions to govern him. Then he would see Arjuna’s chariot. Gold and bright gems would shine upon it. White horses would draw it beneath the standard marked with an ape, and Krishna himself would hold its course. Arjuna included the sight of his own vehicle in the succession of things Duryodhana would encounter too late to undo his decision.
“He will hear Gandiva,” Arjuna warned. His leather-protected fingers would draw its string repeatedly, setting off a fierce twang as loud as rolling thunder in the midst of the battle. Arrows would spread such darkness over Duryodhana’s troops that they would scatter like frightened cattle and leave him abandoned. From Gandiva would fly countless shafts with beautiful fletching, sharp edges, and the power to enter the body’s vital places. They would flash like lightning breaking out of clouds, killing enemies by the thousands and bringing down armored horses and elephants beyond number. The enemy’s own arrows would be driven aside, turned backward, or cut across their shafts into pieces by Arjuna’s shots. His broad-headed arrows would take young warriors’ heads as birds plucked fruit from the tops of trees. Duryodhana would watch his finest fighters fall from their chariots. He would see horses and elephants roll lifeless onto the field. His brothers would die around him before they had properly entered the range of the opposing weapons, having accomplished nothing in the battle. With each prospect Arjuna returned to his warning: the king’s son would regret this war. The message gave Sanjaya a series of sights and sounds to carry into the court, all of them belonging to the combat Arjuna said he was prepared to wage.
The blazing shafts would keep coming. Arjuna pictured himself destroying masses of chariots and infantry on every side, like death advancing with an open mouth. Dust raised by his chariot would cover the enemy. Torn apart by Gandiva’s arrows and deprived of judgment, the soldiers would wander in every direction. Their army would flee in panic with limbs mangled, its leading warriors dead, its horses and elephants killed. Men would cry aloud from thirst and fear. Some would already be dead; others would be dying beside exhausted animals. Hair, bones, and skulls would lie in heaps like works the Creator had left unfinished. Then Arjuna named everything Duryodhana would see together on the opposing chariot: Gandiva, Krishna, Krishna’s divine conch Panchajanya, Arjuna himself, his 2 inexhaustible quivers, his conch Devadatta, and the white horses. That sight would bring remorse too. Arjuna would consume the Kauravas as Agni consumed assembled wicked beings when one age ended and another began. Dhritarashtra and all his sons would then share the regret. Duryodhana would have lost prosperity, brothers, army, and followers. His pride and courage would fail, and he would tremble at the result of his choice. Sanjaya was delivering a threat about a war still ahead of them. The people hearing it still had to decide what to do about the Pandavas’ demand.
The gist: Arjuna warns of attacks by Abhimanyu, the Prabhadrakas, Virata, Drupada, Shikhandi, Dhrishtadyumna, and Satyaki. He then describes the destruction he intends to bring with Gandiva from the chariot driven by Krishna. Sanjaya conveys these threats about the coming war to the assembled court.
Krishna’s Support and the Signs of War: Arjuna’s Resolve
Arjuna had told Sanjaya of a morning after he completed his water rites and prayers. A Brahmin approached with a prediction: Arjuna faced an exceptionally difficult task and would have to fight his enemies. Either Indra, mounted on his excellent horse with thunderbolt in hand, would go ahead and kill them, or Krishna would protect him from behind in the chariot drawn by horses led by Sugriva. Trusting those words, Arjuna had chosen Krishna’s support for this battle and passed over Indra’s. He saw the gods’ hand in obtaining Krishna for the destruction of their enemies. A person whose victory Krishna desired could defeat even the gods led by Indra without Krishna taking up arms. Human opponents gave still less reason for anxiety. Trying to defeat Krishna was like attempting to cross the immeasurable ocean with one’s arms alone. A person striking Mount Kailasa with his palm would wear away his hand and nails while leaving the mountain unharmed. Conquering Krishna would require the impossible strength of someone who extinguished a blazing fire with his bare hands, stopped the sun and moon, and forcibly seized the gods’ nectar of immortality.
Arjuna recalled Krishna’s deeds. He had cut through the royal warriors of the Bhojas and carried Rukmini away in a single chariot to marry her; their son was Pradyumna. He had broken the Gandharas, defeated all the sons of Nagnajit, and freed King Sudarshana from captivity. He had killed the Pandya king by striking his chest against the king’s and had devastated the Kalingas in battle. Varanasi, burned by him, had remained without a king for years, though others could never defeat it. Ekalavya, king of the Nishadas, had repeatedly challenged him and had finally lain dead at his hands like the Asura Jambha struck down on a hill. With Balarama beside him, Krishna had killed Kamsa, Ugrasena’s wicked son, as he sat in court among the Vrishnis and Andhakas; he then restored the kingdom to Ugrasena. He had fought Shalva, lord of Saubha, who stood in the sky without fear because of his powers of illusion. At Saubha’s gate, Krishna caught in his hands the terrible shataghni weapon the ruler hurled. Arjuna asked what mortal could bear such power.
The Asuras possessed Pragjyotisha, a formidable, inaccessible city. There Naraka, son of the earth, kept Aditi’s jeweled earrings, taken by force. Even the gods, fearless of death and gathered under Indra, could never conquer him. They had seen Krishna’s strength, prowess, and irresistible weapon and knew the purpose of his birth. They entrusted him with the destruction of those Asuras, and he accepted the difficult task. In Nirmochana he killed 6,000 Asuras, cut apart countless sharp arrows, slew Mura and bands of Rakshasas, and entered the city. There the mighty Naraka fought Vishnu of immeasurable strength. Krishna killed him, leaving him fallen like a karnikara tree uprooted by wind. Having slain Naraka and Mura and recovered the earrings, Krishna returned with beauty and lasting fame. The gods who witnessed those deeds blessed him: battle would never tire him, neither sky nor water would obstruct his passage, and weapons would never pierce his body. Krishna considered himself amply rewarded. Yet Duryodhana hoped to overcome that boundless Vishnu and even thought of imprisoning him. Krishna endured it for the Pandavas’ sake, Arjuna said. Duryodhana also hoped to create a sudden breach between Krishna and Arjuna. The battlefield would reveal how far he could remove Krishna’s affection from the Pandavas.
Arjuna would bow to Bhishma, Drona and his son, and Kripa, the unmatched son of Sharadvan, before fighting to recover the kingdom. He trusted the god of righteousness to destroy the sinful person who fought the Pandavas. Royal-born, cheated at dice, they had spent twelve years suffering in the forest and another year concealed. How could Dhritarashtra’s sons enjoy rank and wealth while the Pandavas still lived? If those sons defeated them even with the gods and Indra as allies, wrongdoing would be preferable to virtue and righteousness would have no place on earth. If deeds brought consequences, and if the Pandavas were better than Duryodhana, Arjuna expected to kill him and his kin with Krishna’s help. If stealing the kingdom was wicked and the Pandavas’ good deeds had value, Duryodhana’s overthrow appeared certain. The Kurus would see it themselves. Dhritarashtra’s sons could live by choosing a course that avoided battle. If they fought, none would survive. Arjuna would kill them and Karna and recover the entire kingdom. Meanwhile, they could act as they thought best and enjoy their wives and the other pleasures of life.
Many elderly Brahmins lived with the Pandavas: well-born, courteous, learned in varied disciplines, familiar with cycles of years, planetary movements, stellar conjunctions, the signs of the zodiac, and the significance of each hour. They interpreted destiny and answered questions about the future. They predicted immense destruction among both Kurus and Srinjayas, followed by the Pandavas’ victory. Yudhishthira, who had made no enemies, already regarded his purpose as fulfilled through the defeat of his foes. Krishna saw that invisible future, and Arjuna claimed that the foresight he had possessed for years remained clear and unobstructed. Gandiva stretched without being touched; its string trembled without being drawn; arrows repeatedly pressed out of the quiver as if eager to fly. His bright sword slipped from its sheath like a snake leaving its old skin. Terrible voices from the top of his banner asked when his chariot would be harnessed. Countless jackals howled at night, and Rakshasas descended from the sky. When his white horses were yoked, deer, jackals, peacocks, crows, vultures, cranes, wolves, and birds with golden plumage followed behind. He could send every fighting king to death with showers of arrows. Like a summer fire consuming a forest, he would launch the weapons called Sthunakarna, Pashupata, and Brahma, along with every fierce weapon Indra had given him, sending them on their different courses. He intended to leave no survivor among the kings who entered battle and would rest when that work was done. Sanjaya, son of Gavalgana, must convey that firm decision. Duryodhana was proposing war against men invincible even to an assault supported by Indra and the gods. Yet Arjuna closed by wishing that events might follow the counsel of the elders: Bhishma, Kripa, Drona and his son, and wise Vidura. May all the Kurus live long.
The gist: Arjuna explains his choice of Krishna and recalls Krishna’s victories. He bases his warning of the Kurus’ destruction on righteousness, predictions, his own foresight, and ominous signs. After declaring the weapons he intends to use, he closes with the elders’ counsel and a wish for the Kurus’ long life.
Bhishma’s Warning and Karna’s Reply
Before the assembled kings, Bhishma addressed Duryodhana with an older story. Brihaspati and Shukra had once gone to Brahma. With them came the Maruts led by Indra, the Vasus with Agni, the Adityas, the Sadhyas, the seven celestial sages, the Gandharva Vishvavasu, and the beautiful companies of Apsaras. They bowed to the ancient grandsire, lord of the universe, and sat around him. At that moment two ancient divine sages, Nara and Narayana, left the gathering. Their radiance seemed to draw the minds and strength of everyone present toward them. Brihaspati asked Brahma who they were and why they departed without paying him homage. Brahma identified them as Nara and Narayana, endowed with the power of austerity, radiant with beauty, illuminating earth and heaven. They pervaded and surpassed all, had arrived from another world, and now dwelt in the region of Brahman. Their own austerities made them shine; their deeds continually brought the world happiness. Gods and Gandharvas honored them. They existed for the destruction of the Asuras.
Hearing this, Indra went with the celestials, Brihaspati at their head, to the place where the two sages practiced austerity. War with the Asuras had frightened the gods. Indra asked the pair for a boon. Invited to name it, he requested their help, and they promised to fulfill his wish. Their assistance enabled him to defeat the Daityas and Danavas. Nara killed hundreds and thousands of Indra’s enemies among the Paulomas and Kalakhanjas. Bhishma connected those deeds with Arjuna. Riding a circling chariot, Arjuna had cut off the Asura Jambha’s head with a broad-headed arrow as Jambha was about to swallow him. He had defeated 60,000 Nivatakavachas and struck Hiranyapura beyond the ocean. He had satisfied Agni after overcoming the gods led by Indra. Narayana had likewise destroyed innumerable Daityas and Danavas. Those two powers were now visibly united. Neither the Asuras nor the gods led by Indra could defeat them on earth. Bhishma said the tradition identified Krishna as Narayana and Arjuna as Nara, one soul born in two forms. Their deeds won inexhaustible realms, and they were born repeatedly when destructive wars became necessary. Fighting was their mission. Narada, learned in the Vedas, had told the Vrishnis this account.
Duryodhana would remember Bhishma’s words when he saw Krishna with conch, discus, and mace, and the terrible archer Arjuna with his weapons, both eternal figures seated in the same chariot. Why should the Kurus escape danger when their prince’s understanding had departed from righteousness and their own interests? If he refused the warning, he would hear of many deaths. All the Kurus followed his judgment, while he accepted as true the counsel of just three people: Karna, whom Bhishma called a lowborn suta’s son cursed by Rama; Shakuni, Subala’s son; and his sinful brother Duhshasana. Karna protested. The grandsire should never address him in that language. He had adopted the duties of a Kshatriya while remaining faithful to his own duties. What wickedness could Bhishma identify in him? No one among Dhritarashtra’s people knew him to have committed a sin. He had never injured Duryodhana and intended to kill all the Pandavas in battle. How could prudent people renew peace with those they had already harmed? His duty was to do what pleased Dhritarashtra and especially Duryodhana, who possessed the kingdom.
Bhishma answered by turning to Dhritarashtra. Karna repeatedly boasted that he would kill the Pandavas, yet he was worth less than one-sixteenth of them. The approaching disaster to the king’s sons was this man’s doing, Bhishma said. Trusting him, the foolish Duryodhana had insulted heroes of divine descent capable of defeating every enemy. What difficult deed had Karna accomplished that equaled the past achievements of any one Pandava? In Virata’s country, Arjuna had killed Karna’s beloved brother. What had Karna done then? When Arjuna charged the assembled Kurus, defeated them, and took their clothes, Karna had been present. When Gandharvas led Duryodhana away captive during the cattle inspection, where was the man who now bellowed like a bull? Bhima, Arjuna, Nakula, and Sahadeva had fought those Gandharvas and beaten them. Bhishma described Karna as endlessly boastful, heedless of both righteousness and advantage, and full of false claims. His challenge placed Karna’s present promise beside occasions when the Pandavas had already demonstrated the strength the court was discussing.
Drona paid his respects to Dhritarashtra and the gathered rulers before speaking. The king should follow Bhishma’s advice. He should avoid being guided by people greedy for wealth. Peace with the Pandavas before war began was the best course. Drona knew that Arjuna would accomplish everything Sanjaya had just reported him saying; no archer in the three worlds equaled him. Dhritarashtra gave neither Drona nor Bhishma’s counsel its due response. He turned again to Sanjaya and asked about the Pandavas. Vaishampayana marked that failure to answer the two elders as the moment when the Kurus abandoned hope of remaining alive.
The gist: Bhishma identifies Krishna and Arjuna with Nara and Narayana and warns against war. Karna defends his loyalty and promises to kill the Pandavas; Bhishma challenges the promise with reminders of past defeats. Drona supports peace, while Dhritarashtra returns to questions about the opposing forces.
Sanjaya Collapses, Then Names the Pandavas’ Strength
Dhritarashtra asked what Yudhishthira had said upon learning that a great force had gathered on the Kuru side. How was the son of Dharma preparing for the approaching conflict? Which brothers and sons were watching his face for orders? Acknowledging that his own sons were wicked and had provoked Yudhishthira through deception, the king asked who was urging that righteous ruler toward peace. Sanjaya said the Panchalas and the other Pandavas all looked to Yudhishthira, and he was holding them back. Chariots belonging to the Pandavas and Panchalas were arriving in separate groups, ready to march into battle and gladden him. The Panchalas rejoiced at their union with Kunti’s radiant son as the sky brightened with sunrise. Panchalas, Kekayas, and Matsyas shared that happiness, down to the herders caring for their cattle and sheep. Large numbers of young women from Brahmin, Kshatriya, and Vaishya households came in a playful mood to see Partha dressed in armor. Dhritarashtra asked for the strength of Dhrishtadyumna, the Somakas, and all the other forces with which the Pandavas intended to fight.
Sanjaya paused in thought. Before the Kurus in their own hall, he seemed to draw deep, prolonged breaths again and again. Then he suddenly collapsed unconscious, with no apparent cause. Vidura called out to the king that Sanjaya lay senseless on the ground, unable to speak, his understanding clouded. Dhritarashtra attributed the collapse to anxiety after seeing the powerful sons of Kunti. When Sanjaya recovered consciousness and had been comforted, he resumed his answer. He had seen those great warriors lean from the disciplined, restricted life they had led with the Matsya king. Dhritarashtra should now hear who would stand with them against him. Dhrishtadyumna would be their ally. So would the righteous man who never abandoned truth through anger, fear, temptation, desire for wealth, or argument: Yudhishthira, an authority in matters of duty, foremost among its practitioners, a man who had never made an enemy. The king’s question about the strength he faced had brought Sanjaya first to the commander and to the ruler whose orders the others awaited.
Bhima had no equal on earth in the strength of his arms. Wielding a bow, he had subjected kings and defeated the peoples of Kashi, Anga, Magadha, and Kalinga. His strength had carried the other four Pandavas swiftly to safety from the burning house of lac, the structure of flammable material meant to destroy them. He had saved them from the man-eating Hidimba and had been their refuge when Jayadratha carried Draupadi away. Sanjaya returned to the rescue from the fire at Varanavata: that same Bhima would fight on their side. He had entered the terrible, rugged mountains of Gandhamadana and slain the Krodhavasas to please Draupadi. His arms possessed the strength of 10,000 elephants. Arjuna, with Krishna as his sole helper, had defeated Indra in combat to satisfy Agni. He had pleased Mahadeva himself through battle, the mountain-dwelling, trident-bearing lord and husband of Uma. He had brought the earth’s kings under his power. The Pandavas would meet Dhritarashtra with that warrior, known as Vijaya, beside them. Nakula, Madri’s handsome son and an unmatched bowman, was also in their camp. He had conquered the whole western region, with its many peoples described as Mlechchas.
Sahadeva had defeated the warriors of Kashi, Anga, and Kalinga. In energy only four men on earth equaled him: Ashvatthama, Dhrishtaketu, Rukmi, and Pradyumna. The youngest Pandava, who delighted his mother Madri, would bring destructive battle. Sanjaya then recalled Shikhandi’s earlier life as the daughter of the king of Kashi, practicing severe austerities and seeking Bhishma’s destruction even in a later birth. Born again as a daughter of Panchala, Shikhandi had subsequently become male through an encounter with a Yaksha. Experienced in the advantages and disadvantages of both sexes, the invincible Panchala prince had fought the Kalingas and knew every weapon. The Yaksha’s transformation had served the purpose of Bhishma’s death. That formidable archer would stand with the Pandavas, as would the five Kekaya brothers, all great bowmen in armor. Duryodhana’s side would also face Yuyudhana, Satyaki, the lion of the Vrishnis, long-armed, intelligent, quick with weapons, and unfailing in courage. Virata, who had sheltered the Pandavas, would fight with them. The king of Kashi ruling in Varanasi had joined them. Draupadi’s sons were young and invincible in battle, as dangerous to approach as venomous snakes. Abhimanyu combined an energy like Krishna’s with self-restraint like Yudhishthira’s.
Dhrishtaketu, the renowned king of Chedi and warlike son of Shishupala, had arrived with an akshauhini, a full army formation, of his own. Unequaled in energy and impossible to withstand when angry, he would fight for the Pandavas. Krishna was their refuge as Indra was the gods’ refuge. The Chedi king’s brother Sharabha and his associate Karakarsha would also oppose the Kurus. Sahadeva, the son of Jarasandha, and Jayatsena had resolved to fight on the Pandava side. This Sahadeva was a separate king from Madri’s son, already named among the brothers. Drupada had brought a large force and was prepared to risk his life. Relying on these allies and hundreds of other kings from the eastern and northern countries, Yudhishthira stood ready for battle.
The gist: Yudhishthira is restraining an eager coalition. Asked about its forces, Sanjaya collapses; after recovering, he names the Pandavas, Shikhandi, Satyaki, the allied kings, younger warriors, and Krishna. Dhrishtaketu has brought an akshauhini, and rulers from the east and north stand ready to fight.
The Fear of Bhima: Dhritarashtra Foresees His Sons’ End
Dhritarashtra acknowledged the courage of every warrior Sanjaya had named. Taken together, he said, they equaled Bhima alone. His fear of Bhima’s anger resembled a well-fed deer’s fear of a furious tiger. He spent whole nights awake, drawing deep, hot sighs, as helpless before the thought of Vrikodara as an animal facing a lion. In his entire army he could identify no one capable of standing against those powerful arms and that energy equal to Indra’s. He described Bhima as determined in hatred, consumed with anger, unwilling to smile even at a joke, looking sideways and speaking with a voice like thunder. The son of Kunti would leave none of his foolish sons alive. Whirling his mace, he would become a second Yama, the lord of death, to them all. Already the king seemed to see the terrible weapon raised: steel, eight-sided, decorated with gold, carrying the force of a Brahmin’s curse. Bhima would move through the troops like a full-grown lion among deer. Dhritarashtra accused him of having singled out his sons for cruelty from childhood. A voracious eater with enormous force, Bhima had overwhelmed Duryodhana and his brothers in their childhood games of fighting. The memory made the king’s heart tremble. He blamed Bhima’s oppressive strength for the rupture now facing the family.
In the king’s imagination, Bhima was already fighting at the front and consuming an army of men, horses, and elephants. Equal to Drona and Arjuna in weapons, swift as the wind, furious as Maheshvara, he seemed beyond anyone’s power to kill. Dhritarashtra considered it a great gain that his sons had escaped being killed by him earlier. How could a human opponent bear the force of a warrior who had already slain mighty Yakshas and Rakshasas? Even as a child Bhima had never been fully under the king’s control. After the injuries inflicted by his wicked sons, the king could expect even less obedience now. Bhima would break before he bent. How could anyone quiet that sidelong gaze and those contracted brows? Dhritarashtra described him as fair, tall as a palmyra, a thumb’s span taller than Arjuna, faster than horses and stronger than elephants, with indistinct speech and eyes the color of honey. Vyasa had told him long ago that Bhima had possessed this form and power even in boyhood. In anger, his iron mace would destroy chariots, elephants, men, and horses. The king admitted his own part: he had insulted the warrior by acting against his wishes. How would his sons withstand that straight, thick, beautifully shaped, gold-adorned weapon, capable of killing a hundred and sounding terribly when thrown at the enemy?
His sons were trying to cross the ocean that was Bhima: shoreless, immeasurably deep, without a raft, its currents swift as arrows. They boasted of wisdom while refusing to hear their father even when he cried out. Like honey collectors drawn along a mountainside, they saw the sweetness they wanted and missed the dangerous fall waiting below it. The reward held their attention while the risk remained unseen. Those rushing to fight death in human form were surely marked for destruction by the Ordainer, like animals caught in a lion’s sight. Returning to the mace, Dhritarashtra now described it as four cubits long and six-sided, powerful and deadly to the touch. How could his sons bear its force when Bhima hurled it from the sling? Bhima would whirl it against elephants’ heads, lick the corners of his mouth, draw long breaths, and answer the enraged animals’ cries with roars of his own. Entering the packed ranks of chariots, he would choose his targets and kill the chief warriors. Who on the king’s side could escape that advancing flame? Cutting through the army and dancing with his mace, Bhima would reproduce the destruction seen at the end of an age. He would crush the ranks as a maddened elephant crushed flowering trees. Chariots, drivers, horses, and banners would be torn away; warriors on chariots and elephants would fall as trees on a riverbank fell before the Ganges in violent flood. Dhritarashtra’s sons, their dependents, and their allied kings would scatter in fear.
It was Bhima who, with Krishna’s help, had entered Jarasandha’s innermost apartments and overthrown the mighty ruler of Magadha. Jarasandha had subjected the earth and oppressed her through his power. The Kurus had escaped because of Bhishma’s prowess, the Andhakas and Vrishnis through their policy; Dhritarashtra counted that escape as good fortune. What could be more extraordinary than Bhima approaching such a king without weapons and killing him swiftly? Like a snake that had stored poison for years, he would pour his accumulated anger over the king’s sons. He would strike with his mace as Indra struck Danavas with the thunderbolt. Copper-eyed, irresistible, and fierce, he already seemed to be descending upon them. Even deprived of mace, bow, chariot, and armor, fighting with his bare arms, whom could he fail to overcome? Bhishma, Drona, and Kripa knew his strength as well as Dhritarashtra did. Those noble men would stand at the front of the Kuru army, seeking death in battle. Destiny was powerful everywhere, the king said, especially in a man’s life: although he foresaw the Pandavas’ victory, he still failed to restrain his sons. His archers would surrender their lives along the old path to heaven while preserving their earthly reputations. They cared equally for both branches of the family, all grandchildren to Bhishma and pupils to Drona and Kripa. Whatever small services the king had rendered those three elders, their noble character would make them repay.
Death in battle was considered good and meritorious for a Kshatriya who had taken up arms in accordance with his duties. Dhritarashtra nevertheless wept for everyone who would fight the Pandavas. The danger Vidura had foreseen at the beginning had arrived. Wisdom seemed powerless to remove grief; overwhelming grief could sweep wisdom away. Even sages detached from worldly concerns and observing the universe from a distance were affected by prosperity and adversity. How could the king escape sorrow when his affections clung to sons, kingdom, wives, grandsons, relatives, and a thousand other things? Considering every circumstance, he saw the destruction of the Kurus. The dice game appeared to have caused the disaster, a sin his foolish son had committed under temptation and greed for wealth. He ascribed it all to the unfavorable working of ever-moving Time, which brought every event into being. Bound to Time’s wheel as its rim was bound, he could never fly free. Where should he go? What should he do, and how? The Kurus’ time had come. All his hundred sons would die, and he would have to hear the women’s lamentations helplessly. He wondered how death might come to him. Bhima with his mace, joined by Arjuna, would kill everyone on his side as a summer fire driven by wind consumed dry grass.
The gist: Dhritarashtra fears Bhima’s strength, mace, past victories, and accumulated anger. He foresees his sons’ destruction and acknowledges having insulted Bhima himself, yet still fails to restrain them. His lament returns to the dice game, Vidura’s warning, and his sense of being bound to Time.
Talk of Peace and Sanjaya’s Sharp Reply
Dhritarashtra said a king who had never been heard to lie and had Arjuna fighting for him could possess all three worlds. Day after day, he had searched his mind for a warrior able to advance in a chariot against Gandiva’s wielder. Arjuna’s feathered arrows, nalika shafts, and breast-piercing missiles would have no equal in battle. If Drona and Karna opposed him, the outcome might remain uncertain, yet Dhritarashtra felt sure victory would escape his own side. Karna was compassionate and careless; Drona was old and loved the pupil he would be fighting. Arjuna was capable, strong, and steady in his grip. Their encounter would be terrible and might end without a clear defeat. All had skill and fame, and all would surrender even the gods’ sovereignty before surrendering the chance of victory. The fall of Drona, Karna, or Arjuna would bring peace, but the king could see no one able to kill or overcome Arjuna. How could the anger stirred by his foolish sons be quieted? Other warriors won and lost. Arjuna was always said to win. Thirty-three years had passed since he invited Agni to Khandava and satisfied the fire after defeating the gods, and no defeat of his had been heard of anywhere. Krishna, his equal in character and standing, was his charioteer. The two Krishnas in one chariot and the strung Gandiva formed three powers united together. Dhritarashtra’s side possessed no comparable bow, warrior, or charioteer. Duryodhana’s followers failed to understand what that meant.
A thunderbolt striking someone’s head left something intact, the king said; Arjuna’s arrows left nothing. Already he imagined heads falling under the volleys, a fire of arrows issuing from Gandiva and consuming his sons’ ranks, and his varied forces scattering at the sound of Arjuna’s chariot. His weapons would burn through the troops as a wind-driven blaze consumed dry leaves and grass. Arjuna would become as irresistible as all-destroying death sent forward by the Ordainer. When evil signs repeatedly appeared in Kuru homes, around them, and on the battlefield, destruction would surely follow. The Pandavas’ followers were as brave and eager for victory as the brothers, prepared to give their lives. The Panchala, Kekaya, Matsya, and Magadha kings were formidable enemies. Krishna, creator of the universe and capable of subjecting the three worlds at will, intended to give the Pandavas victory. Satyaki had rapidly learned the whole science of weapons from Arjuna and would scatter arrows as a farmer sowed seed. Dhrishtadyumna, a ruthless chariot warrior versed in the best weapons, would attack the Kuru host. Dhritarashtra feared Yudhishthira’s anger, Arjuna’s power, Bhima, and the twins. His troops would never escape the superhuman net of arrows those rulers spread over them. That prospect made him weep.
Yudhishthira possessed beauty, energy, good fortune, spiritual power, intelligence, wisdom, and righteousness. He had allies and counselors, men ready to fight, and heroic brothers and a father-in-law who commanded mighty chariots. Patient, discreet in counsel, compassionate, modest, learned, disciplined, devoted to elders, and master of his senses, he shone like a blazing fire. What doomed fool would fling himself into it like a moth? Dhritarashtra admitted that he had treated Yudhishthira deceitfully. That king, like a fire with long flames, would destroy every one of his foolish sons. Fighting the Pandavas seemed wrong to him, and he asked the Kurus to share that judgment. War would destroy their entire line; he saw it clearly. Acting on that knowledge might bring his mind peace. If they too considered war harmful, they should strive to make peace. Yudhishthira would never remain indifferent to their distress, the king said, because he blamed Dhritarashtra himself as the cause of the unjust war.
Sanjaya agreed that battle would bring the destruction of the Kshatriyas through Gandiva. What he failed to understand was how a king so wise, and so familiar with Arjuna’s strength, could continue following his sons’ advice. Dhritarashtra had injured the Pandavas from the beginning and repeatedly sinned against them. This was a late moment to grieve. Someone occupying the place of a father and friend should remain attentive and seek his children’s welfare; someone who harmed them forfeited the name of father. When the Pandavas lost at dice, Dhritarashtra had laughed like a child and celebrated what had been won and acquired. He had allowed the harshest insults to pass unchecked because he welcomed the prospect of his sons possessing the entire kingdom. He had failed to see the fall ahead. His inherited realm was the Kuru country, including Jangala. The Pandavas had conquered the rest of the earth through the strength of their arms and handed him that vast empire. He had come to regard it all as his own achievement. When the Gandharva king captured his sons and they were sinking as if in a shoreless sea without a raft, Arjuna brought them back. Sanjaya again reminded him of the laughter with which he had watched the defeated Pandavas go into exile.
Arjuna’s sharp arrows could dry up oceans, Sanjaya said; flesh and blood could offer little resistance. Arjuna was foremost among archers, Gandiva among bows, Krishna among beings, Sudarshana among weapons, and the chariot with the blazing ape banner among chariots. Carrying all these and drawn by white horses, it would consume the Kuru side like Time’s raised wheel. The whole earth already belonged to the ruler for whom Bhima and Arjuna fought. Seeing their army sink into despair beneath Bhima’s attacks, the Kurus led by Duryodhana would meet destruction. Fear of the two brothers would prevent the king’s sons and their allies from winning. The Matsyas, Panchalas, Shalvas, and Surasenas already refused Dhritarashtra homage and disregarded him. Knowing Yudhishthira’s strength, they had joined him and opposed the king’s sons out of devotion to his cause. The man whose evil deeds had afflicted the virtuous Pandavas, who had never deserved destruction, and who still hated them was Dhritarashtra’s own son. He and all his supporters must be checked by every available means. Dhritarashtra should cease lamenting as though he were helpless. Sanjaya and Vidura had given this warning at the dice game. These tears over the Pandavas now served no purpose.
The gist: Reflecting on Arjuna and the Pandava coalition, Dhritarashtra argues for peace. Sanjaya reminds him of his delight at the dice game, the empire the Pandavas won for him, and his failure to restrain his sons. He must stop Duryodhana and his supporters; lamentation alone accomplishes nothing.
Duryodhana’s Confidence: His Mace, His Champions, and Eleven Armies
Duryodhana told his father to abandon fear and grief. They were capable of defeating the enemy. He recalled the beginning of the Pandavas’ exile, when Krishna had come to them with a vast army drawn up for battle and capable of crushing kingdoms. The Kekayas, Dhrishtaketu, Dhrishtadyumna of Prishata’s line, and many other rulers had also gathered near Indraprastha. They condemned Dhritarashtra and the Kurus and, with Krishna leading them, paid homage to Yudhishthira seated in their midst wearing deerskin. They urged him to recover his kingdom. Duryodhana said they had wanted to kill his father and the men around him. Alarmed for the family, he had approached Bhishma, Drona, and Kripa. He feared the Pandavas would break their agreement and Krishna would destroy the Kurus to give Yudhishthira the whole kingdom. Vidura would be spared, he had said, and the righteous Dhritarashtra would also be excluded from the slaughter. Should they surrender, flee, or fight without hope of living? Every king was then under Yudhishthira’s command. Subjects, friends, and relatives were angry with the Kurus, and rulers everywhere condemned them. Since the weaker side had always made peace, surrender carried no fault. His particular grief concerned his blind father, who might suffer endlessly because of him. His brothers had opposed the enemy merely to please him. The Pandavas would avenge their injuries by destroying Dhritarashtra’s line and its counselors.
Seeing his distress, Duryodhana continued, Bhishma, Drona, Kripa, and Ashvatthama had reassured him. The enemy could never defeat them once they took the field. Each of those champions could overcome the earth’s kings alone. Let their opponents come; sharp arrows would curb their pride. They had cited Bhishma, who in anger after his father’s death had conquered all the kings from a single chariot, killing countless opponents until the frightened survivors sought his protection. That same Bhishma remained capable of victory beside them. The elders had offered this assurance when the entire earth belonged to the enemy. Now, Duryodhana claimed, the Pandavas lacked allies and strength. Sovereignty rested with him, and the kings he had assembled shared his fortunes in happiness and distress. They would enter fire or the sea for his sake. They were laughing at Dhritarashtra’s lamentations, seeing him frightened by praise of the enemy and behaving as though he had lost his senses. Each considered himself capable of opposing the Pandavas. Indra could never defeat the Kuru army; even self-born Brahma could never annihilate it. Yudhishthira’s request for five villages, after abandoning hope of a city, showed fear of Duryodhana’s forces and power.
His father’s estimate of Bhima was mistaken, Duryodhana said. No one on earth equaled him with a mace, no one had surpassed him, and no one ever would. He had endured hardship in his teacher’s household and completed his learning and exercises with devoted attention. When he served Balarama, also called Sankarshana, his teacher had held him unequaled in mace fighting. He was Balarama’s equal in battle, with no superior in strength on earth. Bhima could never bear one of his blows. One angry strike would send him to Yama’s realm. For years Duryodhana had wanted to see Bhima before him with mace in hand; Bhima would fall with his limbs shattered. Such a stroke could break the Himalaya into 100,000 fragments. Bhima, Krishna, and Arjuna themselves knew his superiority with the weapon. Once he killed Bhima, many chariot warriors of equal or greater energy would bring Arjuna down. Bhishma, Drona, Kripa, Ashvatthama, Karna, Bhurishravas, Shalya, the king of Pragjyotisha, and Jayadratha of Sindhu could each kill the Pandavas alone. Together they would send Arjuna to death in a moment. Repeatedly covered by the arrows of Bhishma, Drona, Ashvatthama, and Kripa, Arjuna would lose his strength and fall.
Duryodhana described the births and protections of his champions. Ganga’s son Bhishma surpassed even Shantanu, resembled a holy sage, and could withstand the gods. His pleased father had granted him death only when he chose it; no one on earth could kill him against his will. Drona had been born from a vessel through the sage Bharadvaja, and Drona’s son knew the highest weapons. Kripa, born through the sage Gautama and appearing in a clump of reeds, also seemed impossible to kill. Ashvatthama’s father, mother, and maternal uncle had all been born outside a woman’s womb. These godlike warriors could afflict Indra himself. Arjuna could scarcely face one of them, and together they would certainly kill him. Duryodhana considered Karna equal to Bhishma, Drona, and Kripa. Rama had himself told Karna that they were equals. Karna’s beautiful, radiant earrings had been born with him; Indra, to please Shachi, had asked for them in exchange for a terrible, unfailing weapon. How could Arjuna survive Karna’s possession of it? Success seemed as secure to Duryodhana as a fruit held in his hand. Reports of his enemies’ defeat were already spreading over the earth. Bhishma killed 10,000 soldiers a day, he said, and Drona, Ashvatthama, and Kripa equaled him. The Samsaptaka warriors had vowed either to kill Arjuna or die at the ape-bannered warrior’s hands. Other kings likewise intended to kill him and considered him inferior to themselves.
After Bhima’s death, Duryodhana asked, who would remain to fight? He counted the five brothers, Dhrishtadyumna, and Satyaki as the enemy’s seven principal warriors. His own side included Bhishma, Drona, Kripa, Ashvatthama, Karna, Somadatta, Bahlika, Shalya, the Pragjyotisha king, Vinda and Anuvinda of Avanti, and Jayadratha. In his next list, naming Dhritarashtra’s sons, he included Duhshasana, Durmukha, Duhsaha, Shrutayu, Chitrasena, Purumitra, Vivimshati, Shala, Bhurishravas, and Vikarna. He had gathered eleven akshauhinis, while the enemy had seven. How could he lose? Citing Brihaspati’s advice to engage an army smaller by a third, he described his own force as exceeding the enemy’s by a third. He also claimed many defects in the opposing forces and many virtues in his own. Knowing their superior strength and the Pandavas’ inferiority, his father should retain his judgment. Duryodhana then turned back to Sanjaya, wanting to learn more about what the Pandavas were doing.
The gist: Duryodhana recalls the elders’ assurances during an earlier crisis. He claims his mace will kill Bhima and his champions together will defeat Arjuna. His eleven akshauhinis, compared with the Pandavas’ seven, convince him that his father’s fear is unfounded.
The Celestial Chariot and the Seven Army Formations
Duryodhana asked Sanjaya what Yudhishthira intended to do with the seven akshauhinis now assembled around him. Those immense army divisions had come from several kingdoms, and the rulers who brought them were with the eldest Pandava. What preparations were they making for war? Sanjaya began with the brothers themselves. Yudhishthira was cheerful at the prospect of battle. Bhima and Arjuna shared that confidence, and the twins, Nakula and Sahadeva, showed no fear at all. Arjuna wanted to test the mantras he had acquired, the sacred formulas through which he invoked his powers. He had harnessed his celestial chariot, whose brilliance spread into every direction. Wearing his armor, he looked like a mass of clouds charged with lightning. After reflecting for a while, he had addressed Sanjaya with pleasure. “Look at these first signs, Sanjaya. We will certainly win.” The envoy told Duryodhana that the prediction had appeared true to him. Duryodhana answered with an accusation. Sanjaya evidently enjoyed praising the sons of Pritha, men who had already lost their kingdom at dice. He demanded a closer account of Arjuna’s equipment. What horses were harnessed to the chariot, and what banner stood above it? The question brought the envoy from the mood of the camp to the things that gave one of its leading warriors his confidence.
The celestial craftsman Tvashtri, Sanjaya explained, was also known as Bhaumana. With help from Indra and Dhatri, he had made many different and beautiful forms for Arjuna’s chariot. The makers had used divine illusion to establish these precious shapes, large and small, on its flagstaff. At Bhima’s request, Hanuman, son of the wind god, would place his own image there as well. The banner’s construction defeated the limits that would govern an ordinary object. It extended a yojana upward and a yojana sideways, yet even trees standing in its way could not stop it. Its reach extended far beyond the vehicle carrying it. He offered Duryodhana an image the king could recognize: Indra’s bow, the many-colored rainbow displayed across the sky. Everyone could see its colors, although no one could identify the substance from which it was made. The banner contrived by Bhaumana had that same elusive quality, its many appearances continually changing. Sanjaya compared its rising shapes to smoke mingled with fire, spreading over the sky and taking on bright colors and beautiful forms as it rose. This vast banner had no weight. Nothing could obstruct its passage. Its scale would therefore place no burden on the chariot’s movement.
Chitrasena, king of the Gandharvas, had given a hundred splendid celestial horses for Arjuna’s chariot. They were white and moved with the speed of thought. Their course could be impeded nowhere: on earth, through the sky, or in heaven itself. A boon protected their number. However often the horses were killed, the full complement of a hundred would be restored. Sanjaya then described the teams available to the other brothers. Yudhishthira’s horses were large, equally vigorous, and white as ivory. Bhima’s had the speed of the wind and shone with the radiance of the seven great sages. Sahadeva’s horses were dark-bodied, with backs patterned like the wings of the tittri, a partridge. His brother Arjuna had given them to him when pleased, and they carried their master willingly. Sanjaya rated this gift above even the horses Arjuna possessed himself. Nakula, Madri’s son and a prince of Ajamida’s line, had received his splendid team from Indra. Strong as the wind and exceedingly swift, they bore him as that god, the slayer of Vritra, was borne. The younger generation had divine gifts as well. Abhimanyu, Subhadra’s son, and Draupadi’s sons rode behind handsome, large, fast horses presented by the gods. Their teams matched those of the Pandavas in age and strength. Each of the brothers and the young princes thus had the means to keep pace with the fighting Sanjaya had been describing.
Dhritarashtra asked which men Sanjaya had personally seen arrive out of affection for the Pandavas. Who would stand on their side against his son’s forces? The envoy had seen Krishna, foremost among the Andhakas and Vrishnis, there in the camp. Chekitana had come, and so had Satyaki, the warrior also called Yuyudhana. Those two celebrated chariot fighters, each confident in his own strength, had brought separate akshauhinis. Their contributions accounted for two of the seven divisions. Drupada, king of Panchala and father of Draupadi, had arrived to honor Yudhishthira with a full akshauhini of his own. His troops had been furnished with everything they needed. Ten heroic sons surrounded the king, including Satyajit, with Dhrishtadyumna at their head and Shikhandi providing protection. Virata, the king whose Matsya realm had sheltered the Pandavas, had brought another complete akshauhini. His sons Shankha and Uttara accompanied him, along with his brothers and the group of warriors led by Madiraksha, including Suryadatta. The ruler had come surrounded by members of his own family. Sanjaya’s answer gave Dhritarashtra the names behind the force he feared, identifying the rulers and households that had committed themselves to Yudhishthira.
Jarasandha’s son, now king of Magadha, had brought one akshauhini. Dhrishtaketu, ruler of the Chedis, had arrived separately with another. The five Kekaya brothers, all carrying purple banners, had joined the Pandavas with a single akshauhini between them. With the forces of Chekitana, Satyaki, Drupada, and Virata, these three contributions made the seven formations Duryodhana had asked about. Sanjaya had seen that total gathered in the Pandava camp, and those were the troops that would confront Dhritarashtra’s army. Dhrishtadyumna commanded the combined force. He knew the battle formations used by human warriors, the gods, the Gandharvas, and the Asuras. The different kings retained their own troops and followers within an army whose overall direction had been entrusted to the Panchala prince. Dhritarashtra now had the envoy’s account of the men who had arrived out of loyalty, the strength each had brought, and the commander at their head. Sanjaya would next explain how the Pandavas had distributed their opponents among the fighters preparing to face them.
The gist: Sanjaya reports the Pandavas’ confidence, describes Arjuna’s wondrous banner and the divine horses supporting the brothers and younger princes, and identifies the contributors of seven akshauhinis. Dhrishtadyumna commands the combined force.
Assigned Opponents and Dhrishtadyumna’s Message
Sanjaya continued with the opponents the Pandavas had assigned to their warriors. Shikhandi would face Bhishma, the son of Shantanu, and Virata would support him with all his Matsya troops. Yudhishthira, the eldest Pandava, would take Shalya, the powerful king of Madra, although some people considered the two unevenly matched. Bhima’s task embraced Duryodhana, his sons, his 99 brothers, and the rulers of the east and south. Arjuna had accepted Karna, son of Vikartana, and Jayadratha, king of Sindhu. He would also face the other fighters known for their irresistible strength and pride in their own power. The five royal Kekaya brothers would test themselves against the Kekayas who had joined Dhritarashtra’s side. They would also meet the Malavas, the Shalvakas, and two celebrated warriors from the Trigarta force who had sworn either to conquer or to die. Abhimanyu, Subhadra’s son, had been assigned all the sons of Duryodhana and Duhshasana, together with King Brihadbala. Draupadi’s sons would advance against Drona under Dhrishtadyumna’s leadership, their chariots carrying banners embroidered with gold. Chekitana wanted single combat on chariots with Somadatta. Satyaki wanted to fight Kritavarma, chief of the Bhojas. Sahadeva, whose battle cry was formidable, intended to take Shakuni, son of Subala and brother of Dhritarashtra’s queen. Nakula would face the deceitful Uluka and the Sarasvata peoples. The Pandavas had named and divided the remaining kings among themselves as well. Sanjaya concluded that their army had been arranged into its divisions. Dhritarashtra and his sons should now act without delay as they thought best.
The king lamented that his sons, fools devoted to deceitful dice, were already as good as dead if they intended to meet Bhima. The rulers gathered on their side seemed to have been consecrated by Death for sacrifice. They would rush into Gandiva’s arrows as moths rushed into a flame. Dhritarashtra acknowledged his own part in the danger: these were the illustrious men he had injured. He already pictured them putting his army to flight. Who would follow his warriors into battle once the Pandavas had broken their ranks? Their opponents were accomplished chariot fighters, renowned for courage and achievement, brilliant as the sun, and accustomed to victory. They had Yudhishthira to lead them, Krishna to protect them, and Arjuna and Bhima to fight for them. Dhritarashtra recited the others supporting that strength: Nakula and Sahadeva, Dhrishtadyumna of Prishata’s line, Satyaki, Drupada, Dhrishtaketu with his son, Uttamaujas, and the unconquerable Panchala Yudhamanyu. He named Shikhandi, Kshatradeva, Virata’s son Uttara, the Kashi people, Chedis, Matsyas, and Srinjayas, as well as Virata’s son Babhru, the Panchalas, and the Prabhadrakas. Against their will, even Indra could never wrest the earth from them. They remained cool and steady in combat and possessed strength enough to split mountains. His wicked son insisted on fighting these virtuous men of superhuman power while his father called himself hoarse trying to stop him.
Duryodhana asked why the king assumed victory would belong to the Pandavas alone. Both branches belonged to the same family. Both walked on the same earth. Bhishma, Drona, Kripa, Karna, Jayadratha, Somadatta, and Ashvatthama were mighty archers whom even Indra, joined by the gods, could not defeat. How could the Pandavas overcome them? The armed kings supporting Duryodhana were noble, brave, and fully capable of opposing the brothers for his sake. He claimed the Pandavas could scarcely bear to look upon his troops, and that he himself had enough power to fight them together with their sons. The rulers seeking his welfare would seize the brothers like a herd of young deer in a net. Crowds of chariots and the snares formed by volleys of arrows would rout both Panchalas and Pandavas. Dhritarashtra told Sanjaya that his son spoke like a madman. He could never conquer Yudhishthira in battle. Bhishma understood the strength of the honorable Pandavas and their sons, which was why he opposed a war against them. The king asked again about their activities. Who kept urging those formidable archers toward combat? He compared such encouragement to the work of priests feeding a homa fire, the ritual blaze strengthened by repeated offerings of clarified butter.
Sanjaya named Dhrishtadyumna. The Pandava commander constantly encouraged them to fight without the slightest fear. All the angry kings whom Duryodhana had courted would become targets for showers of weapons, and Dhrishtadyumna promised to meet them and their relatives alone, as a whale seized small fish from the water. He would hold Bhishma, Drona, Kripa, Karna, Ashvatthama, Shalya, and Duryodhana in check as the shore held back the swelling sea. Yudhishthira had answered him with the weight of their dependence. “The Panchalas and Pandavas rely entirely on your courage and steadiness. Bring us safely through this war. I know you stand firm in the duties of the warrior order. You have the ability to strike down the Kurus alone. When they come before us eager to fight, whatever you arrange will be for our good.” Those who understood scripture, Yudhishthira continued, considered a hero worth acquiring at a price of a thousand if that man could protect frightened soldiers fleeing a rout. Such a fighter had the strength to rescue people who ran from the battlefield seeking shelter. Dhrishtadyumna was brave, powerful, and capable of delivering those overcome by fear. The commander was being entrusted with the survival of the troops, including the moment when their own courage might fail.
After hearing Yudhishthira, Dhrishtadyumna had fearlessly instructed Sanjaya to leave without delay and carry his words to everyone who had come to fight for Duryodhana. His address included the Kurus descended from Pratipa and the Bahlikas; Kripa, son of Sharadvat; Karna, Drona, and Ashvatthama; Jayadratha, Duhshasana, Vikarna, Duryodhana, and Bhishma. They should avoid the death awaiting them at Arjuna’s hands. The gods protected him. Before that danger overtook them, some good man should go to Yudhishthira and ask him to accept the kingdom they returned, without delay. No warrior on earth equaled Arjuna in prowess that could never be frustrated. The gods themselves guarded the celestial chariot of the man who wielded Gandiva; human beings could not defeat him. Dhrishtadyumna’s final instruction was that the Kurus should turn their minds away from war. Sanjaya had thus answered who encouraged the Pandavas to stand and fight, and had delivered that same commander’s proposal for stopping the conflict. The kingdom could still be restored to Yudhishthira before the warriors took the places assigned to them.
The gist: Sanjaya names the opponents assigned to each Pandava warrior. Dhritarashtra fears destruction, while Duryodhana promises victory. Dhrishtadyumna assures the Pandavas of his support and sends the Kurus a warning to restore the kingdom and avoid battle.
Source: the Mahabharata of Krishna-Dwaipayana Vyasa, Udyoga Parva. This chapter follows K. M. Ganguli, sections I-LXXI (1-71); the Gita Press Hindi edition numbers these chapters differently. Names, order, and events were checked against Ganguli’s complete translation. Dialogue and commentary are adapted, not a verbatim translation. About the sources.
Based on: The Mahabharata, Vyasa (Gita Press, Gorakhpur)