Mahabharata · The Fall of Bhishma

About 111 min read · 18,845 words

The evening of the tenth day was coming down when the thing both armies had been dreading, each with a trembling heart, at last took place on the wide field of Kurukshetra. Bhishma, the son of Ganga, who for nine days had scorched the Pandava army like the sun of the world’s ending, was pierced now by the countless arrows Arjuna sent from behind Shikhandi, the prince of Panchala who in an earlier life had been born in the body of a woman, and he went down from his chariot. His body never reached the ground. That close mesh of arrows became his bed. We set the story before you in the order Sanjaya laid it before the blind king Dhritarashtra, opening with the fighting of the days between, when the great destruction was climbing toward its height.

Krishna leaves the chariot, and a vow is remembered

Sanjaya tells of a moment in the fighting of those days that shook Vasudeva Krishna himself. Bhishma was cutting through the Pandava host as though the sun that burns at the end of an age had risen to reduce every living thing to ash. Krishna, born of Devaki, who had taken the place of Arjuna’s charioteer, filled with anger at the sight. He let go the reins, took up the discus, the Sudarshana, his divine weapon, and leapt down, and he ran at Bhishma at speed.

Bhishma, the son of Santanu, watched the god come on and spoke without fear. “Come, come, lord of the gods. You in whom the whole world dwells, I bow to you. Lord of all beings, throw me down from this fine chariot by force. If I am killed here by your hand, Krishna, great will be my fortune in this world and the next. Master of the Vrishnis and the Andhakas, the honor you pay me will be sung through the three worlds.”

Krishna, still rushing at him, answered. “You are the root of this great slaughter on the earth. Today you will see Duryodhana dead. A wise minister who walks the path of dharma should hold back a king sunk in the vice of the dice. And a man of the family who tramples dharma should be cast off as one whose reason destiny has already ruined.” Here the story shows its moral weight: Krishna names Bhishma himself as the root of the carnage, because he would not abandon an unrighteous king. The royal sage Bhishma answered the best of the Yadus. “Destiny is stronger than all. The Yadus, for their own good, cast off Kansa. I said as much to King Dhritarashtra, and he would not hear it. A listener who will not take good counsel becomes, through his own misfortune and the pull of destiny, dull of understanding.”

Meanwhile Arjuna, that hero of long and mighty arms, jumped from his own chariot and ran after Krishna on foot, and he caught him with both hands. Krishna, first among the gods and firm in himself, was burning with anger, and so, even held, he dragged Arjuna forward as a storm carries off a single tree. The great Arjuna dug in his heels and stopped him, with much difficulty, at the tenth step. When Krishna halted, Arjuna, wearing his fine garland of gold, bowed to him gladly and said, “Calm this anger, Kesava. You are the refuge of the Pandavas. I swear by my sons and by my brothers that I will not turn from the deed I have pledged. At your word, younger brother of Indra, I will surely destroy the Kurus.” Hearing that promise and that oath, Krishna was pleased, and once more with the discus on his arm he climbed back onto the chariot. He took up the reins he had dropped, and lifting his conch, the Panchajanya, he filled every quarter of the sky with its blast.

A key to reading this (the idea): Bhishma’s wish for his own death was no surrender. By the code of a Kshatriya he was bound to eat the king’s food and fight on the king’s side, and at the same time he counted death at Krishna’s hands the highest good. This is the moral knot of the Mahabharata, where duty and devotion clash inside one man.

The gist: Krishna broke his own vow to try to kill Bhishma; Arjuna held him back and swore again to carry out the destruction of the Kurus himself. Bhishma laid the whole ruin at the feet of destiny and of King Dhritarashtra’s obstinacy, and he did not hide his own share in it.

The twang of the Gandiva, and a river of blood

When the Kuru heroes saw Krishna, decked again in his ornaments, lift the conch once more, they raised a high lion’s roar. Cymbals, kettledrums, war drums, and the grind of chariot wheels merged into one dreadful din. Then the Gandiva, Arjuna’s bow, sounded like a thunderclap and filled the whole sky and every quarter. Bhurishravas flung seven javelins winged with gold at Arjuna, Duryodhana a fierce lance, Salya a mace, and Bhishma, son of Santanu, a dart of iron. Arjuna cut apart all seven of Bhurishravas’s javelins with seven arrows, split Duryodhana’s lance with one keen shaft, and with two more sheared through Bhishma’s dart and Salya’s mace in midair.

Then Arjuna, drawing the immeasurable Gandiva with both hands and full force, called up with the proper mantras the terrible Mahendra weapon, the divine arm of Indra, and made it appear in the sky. From that great weapon poured a rain of arrows blazing with the fire of the god, and with it the diadem-crowned Arjuna checked the entire Kaurava host. Those arrows cut off the arms, bows, standard tops, and cars of the foe, and drove into the bodies of kings, of huge elephants, and of horses. The twang of the Gandiva alone set the enemy’s hearts shaking.

In that fearful battle Arjuna made a grim river run across the field. Its water was the blood that flowed from the torn bodies of the dead, and its foam was fat. Slain elephants and horses formed its banks, entrails and marrow its mud, and the hair-covered heads of men floated in it like scum. Those left alive looked on that river as though it were the Vaitarani, the dreadful river of the land of death. The warriors of the Pandava side, the Chedis, the Panchalas, the Matsyas, and the rest, cried out in triumph. Then, seeing the sun draw in its rays and Indra’s unbreakable weapon spread out like the end of an age, Bhishma, Drona, Duryodhana, and Bahlika drew back their armies for the night’s rest.

That night a great wail rose in the Kuru camp. Everyone said that Arjuna had slain ten thousand car-warriors and seven hundred elephants that day, that the westerners, the Sauviras, the Kshudrakas, and the Malavas were finished. Srutayush, Durmarshana, Chitrasena, Drona, Kripa, the king of the Sindhus, Bahlika, Bhurishravas, Salya, Sala, and hundreds of others, even with Bhishma himself among them, had been beaten by the enraged son of Pritha. Saying this, the Kuru warriors returned to their camps, which blazed with thousands of torches.

A key to reading this (the numbers, in modern terms): think of “ten thousand car-warriors” as a whole chain of armored battalions in today’s language. In the old reckoning the chariot was the spine of war, so the count of car-warriors was the measure of any day’s victory or defeat.

The gist: with the Mahendra weapon Arjuna ran a Vaitarani of blood through the Kaurava army and killed ten thousand car-warriors and seven hundred elephants in a single day. When dusk came, both sides withdrew to rest.

Bhima’s fury and Abhimanyu’s prowess

The next day Bhishma, full of anger and backed by a vast force, advanced at the head of the Bharata army against the enemy. Drona, Duryodhana, Bahlika, Durmarshana, Chitrasena, the powerful Jayadratha, and other royal heroes marched with him in great divisions, ringing him on every side. The Pandavas drew up their army in the Shyena array, shaped like a hawk. At its beak stood the mighty Bhima, in its two eyes the unconquered Shikhandi and Dhrishtadyumna, at its head Satyaki, in its neck Arjuna shaking the Gandiva, and in its tail Yudhishthira himself with his twin brothers.

Bhima drove in at the mouth of that formation, reached Bhishma, and covered him with arrows. Then Bhishma’s great-grandson Abhimanyu, the son of Arjuna, in golden armor, came on alone against all those great warriors and fought among five tiger-like heroes as a young lion contends with five elephants. He struck the standard of Drona’s son Ashvatthama with one shaft, Salya with five, and the standard of Shalya’s charioteer division with eight. Bhurishravas, Salya, Ashvatthama, and Sala could not stand before the arm of Krishna’s nephew Abhimanyu, for fear of his strength.

Then the Trigartas, the Madras, and the Kaikeyas, twenty-five thousand strong, at Duryodhana’s urging, closed in and surrounded both Arjuna and his son. Seeing this, the Panchala prince Dhrishtadyumna fell upon the Madra and Kaikeya divisions with thousands of elephants and chariots and hundreds of thousands of horsemen. In that single array a fierce duel arose between the son of the Madra ruler and Dhrishtadyumna, and in the end the enraged Dhrishtadyumna crushed that prince’s head with his mace. Grieving for his son, the Madra ruler charged at Dhrishtadyumna, and Salya too drove an arrow into his chest.

A key to reading this (lineage): Abhimanyu was the son of Arjuna and Subhadra, Krishna’s sister, and so he is called the son of Krishna’s line, meaning the son of Krishna’s sister. From the Kaurava side he was Bhishma’s great-grandson.

As Dhrishtadyumna fought on, many of Duryodhana’s brothers and twelve great car-warriors began to pierce one another. Then Bhima, filled with rage, raised his mace. When Dhritarashtra’s sons saw him lift it like the peak of Kailasa, they broke and fled in fear. Duryodhana sent the Magadha division of ten thousand elephants against Bhima. Bhima leapt down from his chariot, roaring like a lion, and rushed into that elephant force with a mace heavy as a thunderbolt, killing the beasts like Death himself. His roar left the elephants stunned. Draupadi’s sons, Subhadra’s son Abhimanyu, Nakula, Sahadeva, and Dhrishtadyumna guarded Bhima’s back. Abhimanyu killed the elephant of the Magadha king with a single shaft and struck off the king’s head with a broad arrow. Bhima, smeared with fat and blood and marrow, terrible as Rudra, went on scattering that elephant host like a storm.

The gist: in the Shyena array Bhima and Abhimanyu tore the Kaurava great warriors apart; Bhima crushed the Magadha elephant force of ten thousand beasts with his mace.

Bhima cuts down the sons of Dhritarashtra

Duryodhana ordered his whole army to kill Bhima, but Bhima stood like a shore against that sea of soldiers. His brothers, his sons, Dhrishtadyumna, Draupadi’s sons, Abhimanyu, and the unconquered Shikhandi did not leave him out of fear. Bhima moved among them like Death, carrying his mace of black iron. Then Duryodhana pierced Bhima’s chest with nine arrows. Bhima, enraged, said to his charioteer Vishoka, “These brave sons of Dhritarashtra mean to kill me; today I will kill them all before your eyes. So drive the chariot with care, charioteer.”

Duryodhana cut Bhima’s bow, but Bhima took up another and with a horseshoe-headed shaft cut the king’s bow in return. Then Duryodhana struck him between the breasts with an arrow keen as the rod of Death, and Bhima sank down, senseless, onto the floor of his car. Coming to himself, he pierced Duryodhana and Salya with arrows, and Salya was carried off the field.

Then fourteen of your sons ringed Bhima. Sanjaya counts their names for Dhritarashtra: Senapati, Sushena, Jalasandha, Sulochana, Ugra, Bhimaratha, Bhima, Viravahu, Alolupa, Durmukha, Dushpradharsha, Vivitsu, Vikata, and Sama. Together they loosed a storm of arrows. Bhima, like a lion ringed by wolves, fell on them with the speed of Garuda. He cut off Senapati’s head with a horseshoe-headed shaft; sent Jalasandha to the realm of Yama with three arrows; brought Sushena to the edge of death; struck the moonlike, handsome head of Ugra, crowned and jeweled, off with a single broad shaft; sent Viravahu with his charioteer and standard to the next world with seventy arrows; and, smiling as he worked, dispatched the two brothers Bhima and Bhimaratha, and Sulochana too, to Yama. The rest of the sons fled in terror.

A sub-tale: Hearing of this slaughter by Bhima, the Kuru warriors remembered the warning words Vidura had spoken in the assembly hall. When Draupadi was insulted, Bhima had vowed then and there to destroy the sons of Dhritarashtra. Today those words were coming true before their eyes, and the Kaurava side began to feel that Bhima had been born only for the ruin of their line.

Then Bhishma said to all the great warriors, “That terrible archer Bhima, in his rage, is killing the strong sons of Dhritarashtra; so all of you together, seize this son of Pandu.” Bhagadatta, king of Pragjyotisha, charged at Bhima on his rutting elephant and covered him with arrows as clouds cover the sun. With one straight shaft from Bhagadatta, Bhima sank senseless onto the floor of his car and clung to the pole of his standard.

The gist: in a single engagement Bhima killed many of Dhritarashtra’s fourteen named sons, so that the vow he had taken at Draupadi’s humiliation began to take shape before all.

Ghatotkacha’s illusion and the Kauravas’ flight

Seeing Bhima struck senseless, the Rakshasa Ghatotkacha, son of Bhima and Hidimba, filled with rage and in an instant vanished from sight and wove a terrible illusion. By his power he raised an elephant like Airavata and mounted Rakshasas on the great elephants Anjana, Vamana, and Mahapadma. He ringed Bhagadatta’s elephant and pressed it hard.

Hearing those fearful trumpetings, Bhishma said to Drona, Suyodhana, and the kings, “The great archer Bhagadatta is in grave danger, fighting the evil-souled son of Hidimba. Come, heroes, protect the king; unguarded on the field, he will soon lose his life.” But a few moments later, watching those clashing elephants and hearing Ghatotkacha’s roar, Bhishma said to Drona again, “Today I have no wish to fight this evil-souled son of Hidimba. He is full of strength and fire and well supported; even Indra with the thunderbolt could not defeat him now. Our beasts are spent, and we are badly wounded by the Panchalas and Pandavas. So have the retreat sounded for the army; tomorrow we will fight the foe.” Glad of the excuse of nightfall, the Kauravas did just that and drew back for fear of Ghatotkacha. Duryodhana, grieving for the death of his brothers, wept and sank into worry.

A key to reading this (the idea): “maya” here means the art of illusion, a weaving of false appearances. The Rakshasas were held to be masters of shifting shape at will and of fighting by trickery. Note that Bhishma, though he counts Ghatotkacha’s deceptive warfare a breach of dharma, still avoids the clash because his army is tired; this was his practical strategy.

The gist: before Ghatotkacha’s art of illusion, Bhishma saw his army’s exhaustion and broke off the fight; that day the Pandava side held the victory.

The greatness of Vasudeva, and Bhishma’s counsel

Sick at heart over his brothers’ defeat, Duryodhana went that night, humbly, to Bhishma and asked on whose strength the Pandavas kept beating him, when great warriors like Drona, Kripa, Ashvatthama, Karna, and Bhagadatta stood on his side. Bhishma first repeated his counsel of peace. “Best of the Bharatas, make terms with the Pandavas; that is best for you and for the world. Enjoy this earth with your kinsmen at your side.” Then he told the secret of the Pandavas’ invincibility: their guardian is Vasudeva himself, who bears the Sharnga bow.

Bhishma told the ancient history he had heard from Rama the son of Jamadagni, from Markandeya, from Vyasa, and from Narada. The supreme and divine being whom Brahma had praised on Mount Gandhamadana is this same Vasudeva. Brahma had worshipped him as lord of the universe, the soul of yoga, the highest Brahman, and the final goal. Bhishma said that Vasudeva had brought forth from his own being Sankarshana, then Pradyumna and Aniruddha, and from Aniruddha was born Brahma. Where Krishna is, there is dharma; and where dharma is, there is victory. For this reason the Pandavas are unconquerable and forever victorious, and for this reason he was urging peace. Duryodhana listened and looked with respect on Krishna and the Pandavas, but his obstinacy did not break.

A key to reading this (the idea): “where there is dharma, there is victory” (yato dharmas tato jayah) is the central maxim of the Mahabharata. Bhishma repeats it even in the middle of the war, though he himself fights on the side of unrighteousness. That contradiction is his tragedy: he has the knowledge, but his vow binds him to the wrong side.

The gist: Bhishma named Vasudeva the supreme being and urged peace, but Duryodhana’s obstinacy held firm. Bhishma, for all his wisdom, stayed bound by his vow to the side of unrighteousness.

The killing of Iravan, and the days of the Mandala array

In the days that followed the war grew still more terrible. Iravan, Arjuna’s son born of a Naga woman, cut down the cavalry of the sons of Subala. Seeing this, Duryodhana sent the Rakshasa Alambusha, son of Rishyasringa, who bore an old grudge against Bhima, to kill Iravan. Iravan and Alambusha fought a battle of illusion; Iravan ringed the Rakshasa with his serpent magic, but Alambusha took the form of Garuda, swallowed those serpents, and with his sword struck off Iravan’s crowned and jeweled head. Arjuna did not learn of his son’s death until later.

On another day Bhishma drew up the impenetrable array called the Mandala, in which every elephant had seven chariots beside it, every chariot seven horsemen, and behind every horseman seven archers and seven shield-bearers. Ten thousand horses, ten thousand elephants, and ten thousand chariots were set to guard Bhishma. Yudhishthira answered it with the Vajra array. That day too Bhishma burned like the sun of the last age. Once Shikhandi loosed arrows at him, but Bhishma, remembering that he had been born a woman, let him be and turned to the other Pandava heroes.

A sub-tale: Shikhandi was born first as a daughter in Drupada’s house and became a man by the power of a boon. Bhishma had vowed that he would never raise a weapon against one who had been a woman, for he kept a lifelong vow to protect women. That very vow would later become the door of his death, for Arjuna would shoot from behind Shikhandi.

Through these days the Pandava army was thinned by the wrath of Bhishma, Drona, Ashvatthama, Kripa, and Kritavarma, and the Kaurava army by the wrath of Bhima and Arjuna. Duryodhana and Karna took counsel one night. Karna said, “As long as Bhishma is fighting, I will not take up arms, for every day he shows the Pandavas mercy and does not wish to defeat them. The moment Bhishma lays down his weapons, I alone, with the Somakas, will destroy the Pandavas.” Here the story does not hide the old bad blood between Karna and Bhishma; on the same side, they do not fight together.

The gist: Iravan was killed in a battle of illusion; Bhishma drew up the Mandala array and slaughtered, but would not kill Shikhandi on account of his earlier woman’s birth. Karna refused to fight while Bhishma stood.

Duryodhana’s cutting words, and Bhishma’s pain

One night Duryodhana came to Bhishma’s tent and, cutting at him with words like knives, said, “Bhishma, on your strength we would dare to conquer even the gods and the Asuras. What then are the Pandavas? If you spare them, out of pity for them or out of spite for me, then at least give Karna leave to fight.”

Pierced by these knife-words, Bhishma felt a deep grief, yet he spoke not a single harsh word in return. After a long silence, sighing like a snake, he said in calm words, “Duryodhana, why do you cut at me with word-knives? I strive with all my strength for your good and stand ready to give up my life in battle. But the Pandavas are truly unconquerable.” Then he counted, one by one, Arjuna’s earlier feats: in the Khandava forest, feeding the fire, he had beaten Indra; he had freed Duryodhana himself when the Gandharvas were binding him away, at a time when his brothers and Karna had fled; at the city of Virata he had beaten everyone single-handed; at the seizing of the cattle he had defeated Drona and Bhishma himself and stripped away their garments. And he said, with firmness, “I will not kill Shikhandin, though it cost me my life. The Creator made her a woman first. Son of Gandhari, pass the night in sleep; tomorrow I will wage such a fearsome battle that the world will speak of it for ages.”

A sub-tale: Bhishma here hinted at the lifelong vow of celibacy he had taken for the sake of his father Santanu, the vow for which he had given up the throne. An extension of that same discipline was the rule that he would raise no weapon against a woman, or against one who had ever been a woman. Duryodhana took the whole of Bhishma’s lament as if it were a command, and the next morning had the army made ready for battle.

The gist: wounded by Duryodhana’s cutting words, Bhishma answered with nothing harsh, counted out the proofs of Arjuna’s invincibility, and vowed a fearsome battle for the coming day. He repeated his resolve never to kill Shikhandi.

The tenth day: the Sarvatobhadra array and Bhishma’s last resolve

On the tenth day Bhishma drew up the Sarvatobhadra array. Kripa, Kritavarma, Shaivya, Shakuni, the Sindhu king Jayadratha, and the Kamboja king Sudakshina held the front of the array; Drona, Bhurishravas, Salya, and Bhagadatta the right wing; Ashvatthama, Somadatta, and the two princes of Avanti the left. On the Pandava side, Yudhishthira, Bhima, Nakula, and Sahadeva stood in front, and Shikhandi, Arjuna, Ghatotkacha, Chekitana, and Kuntibhoja were arrayed with them. Arjuna said to Dhrishtadyumna, “Prince of Panchala, set Shikhandi before Bhishma today; I myself will be his guard.”

At the day’s opening came fearful omens: the sun turned dull, a violent wind blew, a rain of bones and blood fell, jackals ran shrieking, and meteors struck the disc of the sun and fell. At Duryodhana’s word the warriors of the Videhas, the Kalingas, and the Daserakas fell upon Arjuna, but Arjuna burned them to ash like moths with his divine weapons.

That day Bhishma showed a valor without precedent. He killed ten thousand elephants, ten thousand horses, and two hundred thousand foot soldiers, and destroyed seven great warriors of the Matsyas and Panchalas. He felled Satanika, the dear brother of Virata, and then a thousand more Kshatriyas with his arrows. Bhishma, blazing like a fire without smoke, was more than any Pandava hero could lift his eyes to look upon.

Then in his own mind Bhishma resolved that he no longer wished to guard his life. Calling Yudhishthira near, he said, “Yudhishthira, wise one, hear these righteous words that lead to heaven. I no longer wish to protect this body. I have spent long enough in war. If you would do what pleases me, put Partha, the Panchalas, and the Srinjayas at your front and strive to kill me.” Understanding his meaning, Yudhishthira ordered the army forward.

A key to reading this (the boon): Bhishma had two boons from his father Santanu: first, that no one could kill him in battle; and second, that his death would rest on his own will (death at his own choosing). For this reason no weapon could bring him down until he himself resolved to give up his life.

The gist: on the tenth day Bhishma killed ten thousand elephants, ten thousand horses, and two hundred thousand foot soldiers, then asked Yudhishthira himself for the means of his own death, for he had let go all attachment to life.

Arjuna attacks with Shikhandi in front

Arjuna said to Shikhandi, “Move toward Bhishma. You must feel not the least fear of him today. I myself will throw him down from his fine chariot with my keen arrows.” Shikhandi, Dhrishtadyumna, and Abhimanyu fell upon Bhishma; old Virata, Drupada, and Kuntibhoja, in their armor, came on as well.

The warriors of the Kaurava side held back each Pandava hero: Chitrasena checked Chekitana, Kritavarma checked Dhrishtadyumna, Somadatta’s son Bhurishravas checked Bhima, Vikarna checked Nakula, Kripa checked Sahadeva, Durmukha checked Ghatotkacha, Duryodhana himself checked Satyaki, Sudakshina checked Abhimanyu, Ashvatthama checked Virata and Drupada, Drona checked Yudhishthira, and Dussasana checked Arjuna as he came on with Shikhandi in front. A fierce duel arose between Arjuna and Dussasana; Dussasana drove three keen arrows into Arjuna’s forehead, and pierced with them Arjuna shone like Meru with its crests. In the end Arjuna pierced Dussasana with a hundred arrows and forced him to flee toward Bhishma’s chariot. To Dussasana, Bhishma became an island found by a drowning man.

Drona, speaking of the omens with his son Ashvatthama, said, “Son, today is the day on which Partha will bend his whole strength to the killing of Bhishma. My arrows spring of themselves from the quiver, my bow yawns, my heart is heavy. Arjuna is moving toward Bhishma with Shikhandi in front. Bhishma has said he will not kill Shikhandin, for the Creator made her a woman. Keep clear of his path and fight; I will go against Yudhishthira.”

The gist: Arjuna made a shield of Shikhandi and attacked Bhishma; the Kaurava heroes held back each Pandava warrior, but Arjuna beat Dussasana. Drona read in the omens the coming fall of Bhishma.

Bhishma’s resolve, and “these are not Shikhandi’s arrows”

With Shikhandi in front, Arjuna cut Bhishma’s bow. Drona, Kritavarma, Jayadratha, Bhurishravas, Sala, Salya, and Bhagadatta, seven great warriors, could not bear this deed of Arjuna’s and fell on him with their divine weapons. But Arjuna held them all back. Shikhandi loosed ten arrows at Bhishma, but Bhishma only looked at him with a wrathful glance and, remembering the woman, did not send back a single shaft.

Each time Bhishma lifted a new bow, Arjuna cut it away with three arrows. Then Bhishma, licking his lips in anger, hurled at Arjuna’s chariot a dart that could split a mountain, and Arjuna broke it into five pieces with five broad arrows. Then Bhishma thought in his heart, “With one bow I could kill all the Pandavas, if Vishnu himself were not their guardian. But for two reasons I will not fight them: one, that they cannot be killed; the other, the woman’s form of Shikhandi. My father gave me the boon of death at my own choosing; now I wish for my death, for the hour is right.”

The rishis and the Vasus stationed in the sky said, “Son, your resolve is welcome to us as well. Act on your resolve; turn your mind away from battle.” Then a fragrant wind laden with drops of water blew, divine drums sounded, and flowers rained upon Bhishma. These words no one heard save Bhishma himself.

Even now, pierced by Arjuna, Bhishma raised his bows again and again, and Arjuna kept cutting them away. At last Bhishma gave up the will to fight. Pierced by hundreds of Arjuna’s arrows, he said to Dussasana with a smile, “These arrows coming at me in one unbroken line, whose touch is like the thunderbolt, are Arjuna’s; they are not Shikhandi’s. Piercing my hard armor, cutting me like a pestle’s fall, these arrows are not Shikhandi’s. Hard as a Brahmana’s rod, unbearable as the bolt of heaven, tormenting my very life, these arrows are not Shikhandi’s. No one but Partha, the wielder of the Gandiva, could give me this pain, not all the kings of the earth together.”

A key to reading this (the idea): here a moral snag in the code of war comes to light. Bhishma will not shoot at the woman-formed Shikhandi, and Arjuna turns exactly this to use, making Shikhandi a shield. This sits in a gray zone. The Pandava side too steps a little away from clean dharma-war here, and the story does not hide it.

The gist: Bhishma took the resolve of death at his own choosing; the rishis and Vasus approved it. He told Dussasana that the arrows piercing him were Arjuna’s, not Shikhandi’s.

The fall from the chariot, and the bed of arrows

On that tenth day too, though pierced in every vital place, Bhishma killed ten thousand warriors and held his ground on the quiet field. Then Partha, standing at the head of his troops, broke the center of the Kuru army. On Bhishma’s body there was no space even two fingers wide that was not pierced with arrows. And then, a little before sunset, in the very sight of your sons, Bhishma fell from his chariot with his head to the east.

As he fell, cries of grief from the gods and from the kings of the earth rang through the sky. Watching the great grandsire go down, it was as though the hearts of all fell with him. He came down like the uprooted standard of Indra, and the earth shook. But because he was pierced with arrows on every side, his body did not touch the ground; he came to rest on the bed of arrows. In that moment a divine presence settled on the great archer. The clouds poured a cool rain, and the earth trembled.

As he fell, Bhishma marked that the sun was still in its southern course, the part of the year held unfit for leaving the body. So he did not let his life depart. Divine voices sounded in the sky: “Why should the son of Ganga give up his life in the southern course?” Bhishma answered, “I am alive.” Ganga sent the rishis of Lake Manasa in the form of swans. Those swan-formed rishis circled Bhishma as he lay on the bed of arrows and asked why the great Bhishma should pass in the southern course. Bhishma told them, “As long as the sun is in the southern course, I will not give up my life. Only when the northern course comes will I go to my ancient home. Let my father’s boon hold true; by my own will I will hold my life back.” Saying this, he lay on the bed of arrows.

A sub-tale: Bhishma used his boon of death at his own choosing in this way, lying on the bed of arrows and waiting for the northern course. In the old belief the Uttarayana, the season of the sun’s return toward the north, was held fit for leaving the body, a sign of luminous passage and release. For this reason Bhishma held his life back for many days.

When Bhishma, the crest of the Kurus, fell, the Pandavas and Srinjayas roared like lions, and the Kauravas stood stunned. Kripa, Duryodhana, and the other Kurus, half fainting with grief, stood still for a long while. The wise Bhishma, taking to the yoga taught in the Upanishads, sunk in inward prayer, lay calm, waiting for his hour in the northern course.

The gist: a little before sunset, his head to the east, Bhishma fell from his chariot, but the close mesh of arrows would not let him touch the earth. Seeing the southern course, he held his life back and grew steady in yoga, waiting for the northern turn.

The pillow of the bed of arrows, and the stream of water

The moment Bhishma fell, both armies laid down their weapons and stopped the fighting. Drona, hearing the news, dropped from his chariot, and when he came to himself he called his army off from battle. The Pandavas and Kauravas, taking off their armor, came to Bhishma. Thousands of warriors, like gods approaching Prajapati, came near Bhishma on the bed of arrows and stood, bowing to him.

Bhishma greeted them and said his head was hanging down, that he needed a pillow. The kings brought pillows of soft, delicate cloth, but Bhishma did not want them. Smiling, he said, “Kings, these are not fit for a hero’s bed.” Then, looking to Arjuna, he said, “Dhananjaya, my head is bent low. Give me a pillow such as you think right.” Arjuna, tears in his eyes, took up the Gandiva and with three keen arrows charged with mantras propped up Bhishma’s head. Seeing that his meaning had been understood, Bhishma was pleased and said, “Son of Pandu, you have given me a pillow fit for my bed. Had you done otherwise, I would have cursed you in my anger. This is how a Kshatriya should sleep on the bed of arrows on the field of war.” Then he said to all the kings, “Until the sun turns toward the north, I will sleep on this bed. Dig a trench around me. Let go of enmity and cease from war.”

Some surgeons skilled in drawing out arrows came, but Bhishma said, “Send them away with honor and gifts of wealth. I have won the highest and best state of the Kshatriya’s dharma. It is not fitting now to treat me, lying as I am on the bed of arrows. Let me be given to the fire with these arrows still in me.” Duryodhana sent the surgeons away with respect. The kings circled Bhishma three times, set guards to protect him, and, their hearts heavy with grief, went off toward their camps.

At that hour Krishna came to the Pandavas and said to Yudhishthira, “Delighter of the Kurus, by good fortune the victory is yours; by good fortune the unconquerable Bhishma has been brought down.” Yudhishthira answered, “By your grace is the victory, by your wrath the defeat. You are our refuge. It is no wonder that those you always guard in battle should win.” Krishna smiled and said, “Best of kings, such words become you alone.”

The next morning all the kings came again to Bhishma. Thousands of maidens showered him with sandal powder, parched grain, and garlands of flowers. Women, old men, and children poured out to him like people longing for a sight of the sun. Burning with the pain of the arrows, Bhishma asked for water. The kings brought vessels of cool water, but Bhishma said, “I can no longer use any human comfort; I am on the bed of arrows, waiting for the return of the moon and the sun.” Then he called Arjuna. “Arjuna, my body burns like fire, my mouth is dry. You are the great archer; give me water in the right way.” Arjuna mounted his chariot, made the army tremble with the twang of the Gandiva, circled Bhishma, and drove an arrow charged with the Parjanya weapon into the earth on Bhishma’s right. From there a stream of cool water, sweet and fragrant as nectar, sprang up, and with it Arjuna gave the grandsire drink. Seeing this divine deed, all the kings were filled with wonder, and conches and drums rang out.

A key to reading this (the idea): Arjuna’s pillow of arrows and his stream of water drawn from the earth are acts of deep reverence for the grandsire. Bhishma, refusing the surgeons’ care, declared that he had reached the highest state of the Kshatriya’s dharma, and that he now waited only for the northern course.

The gist: Arjuna gave Bhishma a pillow of arrows and split the earth with the Parjanya weapon to quench his thirst with a stream sweet as nectar. Bhishma dismissed the surgeons, ordered an end to weapons and enmity, and chose to lie steady in yoga on the bed of arrows, waiting for the northern course.

Nine days of battering, and the night Yudhishthira’s courage nearly broke

On the ninth day, as the sun began to slide toward the horizon and the dreadful hour of twilight came, that time between day and night, so much gloom lay over the field that nothing could be seen. King Yudhishthira saw that his own army, cut down by Bhishma’s arrows, was scattering, that his soldiers had thrown away their weapons and were fleeing the field in fear, and that the great warriors of the Somakas stood spiritless with their faces low. He thought a moment, then ordered the army withdrawn. Know that the Kaurava army fell back at the same time. The great warriors of both sides, themselves wounded and worn in the fight, returned to their camps.

Pierced by Bhishma’s arrows, the Pandavas found no rest that night. Again and again the picture of that old warrior’s prowess turned in their minds. On the other side, since Bhishma had beaten the Pandavas and the Srinjayas, all the Kauravas with Duryodhana praised him in delight and saw him to his tent. Then the night came down that carries all creatures away from their senses.

In that deep night the Pandavas, the men of the Vrishni line who were Krishna’s kin, and the Srinjayas sat down together to take counsel. Weighing the whole situation with calm minds, they turned over what would serve them in this hour. After long thought Yudhishthira lifted his eyes to Vasudeva and said, “Krishna, look at this Bhishma of fierce might. He is trampling my army as an elephant tramples a forest of reeds. We cannot so much as lift our eyes to that great one. Like a raging wildfire he licks up my army. An angry Yama can be beaten, and Indra with the thunderbolt, and Varuna with his noose, and Kubera with his mace; but Bhishma in his fury cannot be beaten in battle. In such a state I am drowning in a sea of grief. I will go to the forest. I no longer wish for war.”

Krishna, in compassion, steadied him and said, “Son of Dharma, firm in truth, do not grieve. Your brothers are slayers of foes indeed. Arjuna and Bhima have the fire and the wind in their strength, and the two sons of Madri are heroes like Indra. If you wish, set me to the task. At your word I myself will fight Bhishma. If Arjuna does not wish to kill him, I alone, on a single chariot, will bring down that old grandsire before the Kauravas.”

Yudhishthira answered, “Great-armed one, it is just as you say. With you at my side, all things are within reach. But, Madhava, for the sake of my own glory I cannot make your word false. You have already vowed that you will not fight for me, only counsel. So, Madhusudana, let us all go with you once more to Devavrata, and ask him himself the means of his death. We were orphans and children; he reared us. He is the father of our father. We will go to him and ask, and whatever he says, I will do.”

A key to reading this (the idea): a deep irony of the Mahabharata opens here. To win the war, the means of killing the enemy is being asked of the enemy himself, and out of love he will give it. Bhishma fights on Duryodhana’s side, and still his tenderness for the Pandavas has not lessened. This tangle of dharma, duty, and affection is the soul of this parva. Do not sort it into flat good and evil.

The gist: after nine days cut apart by Bhishma’s arrows, Yudhishthira’s courage gave out. Krishna offered to take up the task of killing Bhishma himself, but Yudhishthira kept his vow untouched and decided that they would ask the grandsire himself for the means of his death.

The Pandavas in the grandsire’s tent, and the means of his death from his own mouth

Having resolved this, the heroic Pandavas and the mighty Vasudeva took off their armor and weapons and went together toward Bhishma’s tent. Coming inside, they bowed their heads to the grandsire and asked his protection. The great-armed Bhishma spoke with affection, “Welcome, man of the Vrishni line. Welcome, Dhananjaya. Welcome to you, Yudhishthira, and to you, Bhima, and to you, Nakula and Sahadeva. What may I now do to add to your joy? However hard it may be, I will do it with all my heart.”

Yudhishthira, pleased, said with love, “You who know everything, tell us: how may we gain victory, how may we gain the kingdom, and how may this slaughter of creatures be stopped? Tell us the means of your own death. Grandsire of the Kurus, you give the enemy no gap, no weak point to seize. In battle your bow is always drawn to a circle; no one can mark when you take up an arrow, when you aim, when you loose. Tell us how we may defeat you.”

The son of Santanu answered, “Son of Kunti, I speak the truth: while I live, you cannot win in battle. Only when I am beaten will the Pandavas gain the victory. So if you wish for victory, strike me down without delay. I give you leave, sons of Pritha, to strike me as you please.”

Yudhishthira asked again how they might defeat one who was unconquerable even to the gods and the Asuras together. Then Bhishma opened the secret. “Son of Pandu, when I take up bow and arrow and fight with care, even the gods with Indra and the Asuras cannot beat me. But if I lay aside my weapons, then these car-warriors can kill me. I hold to a rule of my own: with one who has thrown away his weapons, one who has fallen, one whose armor has slipped, one whose standard is down, one who is fleeing, one who is afraid, one who joins his hands and asks protection, one who is a woman, or one who bears the name of a woman, I do not fight.

“In your army is Drupada’s son Shikhandi, wrathful in battle, brave, and ever victorious. He was a woman first and later gained manhood; all this you know. Let Arjuna, in his armor, put Shikhandi before him and attack me with his sharp arrows. Seeing that ill-omened one before me, that person who was a woman first, I will not strike him, even armed with bow and arrow. On that chance, Dhananjaya, pierce me quickly on every side with your arrows. Except for Krishna and Arjuna, I see no one in the three worlds able to kill me in battle. Let Arjuna put Shikhandi or someone else before him and throw me down from my chariot; then your victory is certain.”

A sub-tale: It is worth knowing who Shikhandi is. In an earlier life she was Amba, the daughter of the king of Kashi. Bhishma had carried her off, for his brother’s marriage, but because she loved another she was sent back; and then that other could not accept her either. Holding Bhishma the cause of her ruin, Amba performed fierce austerities and was born in Drupada’s house as Shikhandi, first in the body of a girl, then made a man by a boon. This is why Bhishma will raise no weapon against him, and this is what will become the door of his end.

Hearing this, Arjuna’s face bent low in shame and grief. He said, “Madhava, how am I to fight the grandsire, who is the father of my father, the oldest of our line, on whose lap I climbed as a child and soiled his body with my dust-covered limbs, whom I once by mistake called ‘Father,’ and who laughed and said, ‘I am not your father, but your father’s father’? Whether victory or death comes, I will not fight that great one.”

Vasudeva said, “Jishnu, having first vowed the killing of Bhishma, how can you now draw back against the Kshatriya’s dharma? One who comes as a foe, even if he is old, worthy, and revered, must be killed; this is the eternal dharma of the Kshatriya. The gods have already settled it so. Put Shikhandi before you and throw the grandsire down from his chariot.” Arjuna admitted, quietly, that Shikhandi would be the instrument of Bhishma’s death; he would hold back the other great warriors, and Shikhandi would face the grandsire. Having settled this and taken Bhishma’s leave, the Pandavas returned with glad hearts to their camps.

The gist: laying down their arms, the Pandavas went to the grandsire for refuge, and Bhishma himself opened the door of his death: seeing Shikhandi before him, he would not raise a weapon, and in that moment Arjuna should pierce him through. Arjuna’s shame Krishna steadied by recalling the Kshatriya’s dharma.

The tenth day’s array: Shikhandi before them all

At the hour of sunrise, amid the sound of drums, cymbals, small kettledrums, and milk-white conches, the Pandavas went out for battle with Shikhandi at their front. They had drawn up an array made to destroy every foe. Shikhandi stood at the very front of the whole army. Bhima and Arjuna became the guards of his chariot wheels. Behind him were Draupadi’s sons and the brave Abhimanyu. Behind them, Satyaki and Chekitana guarded the rear. Behind them came Dhrishtadyumna ringed by the Panchalas, then Yudhishthira with his twin brothers, then Virata, then Drupada; and the five Kaikeya brothers and the brave Dhrishtaketu guarded the back of the Pandava army.

On the other side the Kauravas set out with the great warrior Bhishma at the front of the whole army. That unconquered warrior was guarded by the powerful sons of Dhritarashtra. Behind them came the great archer Drona and his son Ashvatthama, then Bhagadatta ringed by his elephant force, then Kripa and Kritavarma; and the Kamboja king Sudakshina, the Magadha king Jayatsena, Subala’s son Shakuni, and Brihadbala held the rear line. As on every day, Bhishma formed his array, at times the Asura, at times the Paishacha, at times the Rakshasa formation.

With Arjuna at the front and Shikhandi before them all, the army of Partha advanced toward Bhishma, raining arrows of many kinds. Pierced by Bhishma’s arrows, many Kaurava warriors bathed in blood went to the next world. Nakula, Sahadeva, and the great warrior Satyaki began to press the Kaurava army hard, and the Kaurava soldiers could not stand before that vast Pandava host.

A key to reading this (battle formations): a “vyuha” is a special shape given to an army, so that both guard and strike hold together. The whole strategy of setting Shikhandi at the front rested on one fact: that Bhishma would not loose an arrow at him. This was no show of valor; it was a calculated device, in which Arjuna would strike from behind Shikhandi’s cover.

Bhishma’s world-ending valor, and Shikhandi’s challenge

Unable to bear the slaughter of his army, the unconquered great archer Bhishma set aside all care for his life and rained long shafts, cow-mouthed and crescent-shaped, on the Pandavas, the Panchalas, and the Srinjayas. Throwing car-warriors from their cars, horsemen from their horses, crowds of foot soldiers, and elephant-riders from the backs of their beasts, he struck terror into the foe. The Pandava heroes fell on him alone, as the Asuras once fell on Indra with the thunderbolt. His huge bow, like Indra’s own, seemed always drawn to a circle.

On that tenth day Bhishma burned Shikhandi’s division with his keen arrows as fire burns a forest. Then Shikhandi pierced him through the middle of the chest with three arrows. Struck deep, Bhishma saw that it was Shikhandi. Angry, yet unwilling to fight him, Bhishma said with a laugh, “Whether you strike me or not, I will never fight you. You are still that Shikhandi the Creator made you first.”

Hearing this, Shikhandi, licking his lips in rage, said, “Great-armed one, I know you are the destroyer of the Kshatriyas. I have heard the tale of your battle with Parashurama, of your more-than-human prowess. Still I will fight you today. For the good of the Pandavas and of myself I will surely kill you; I swear it by my truth. Ever-victorious Bhishma, look on this world for the last time.” Saying this, Shikhandi pierced Bhishma with five straight arrows.

Holding Shikhandi to be the instrument of Bhishma’s death, Arjuna urged him on. “I will stay behind you and drive the enemy off with my arrows. Fall on Bhishma at speed. I will hold back Drona, Ashvatthama, Kripa, Duryodhana, Jayadratha, Vinda and Anuvinda of Avanti, the Kamboja king Sudakshina, Bhagadatta, the Magadha king, Somadatta’s son, and all the rest of the great warriors, as a shore holds back the swelling sea. You kill the grandsire.”

A key to reading this (the numbers, in modern terms): the counts in the Mahabharata are the excess of poetry, not a real census. Figures like “ten thousand a day” or “ten thousand elephants” are a way of stamping Bhishma’s terrible killing power on the mind, just as today we might say “he held off a whole platoon single-handed.” Take them as the intensity of feeling, not as a ledger’s tally.

The gist: on the tenth day too Bhishma raged like the world’s end, but when Shikhandi’s arrows struck him he refused to fight him. Shikhandi swore his death, and Arjuna, taking on the task of holding back all the great warriors, pushed him forward.

Duryodhana’s cry, and Bhishma’s last resolve

In fear, Duryodhana said to Bhishma, “Son of Ganga, the son of Pandu with his white horses and Krishna for his charioteer is burning my whole army like a wildfire. Bhima, Satyaki, Chekitana, the two sons of Madri, Abhimanyu, Dhrishtadyumna, and the Rakshasa Ghatotkacha are all breaking my army. Except for you, I see no refuge for these hard-pressed soldiers.”

Thinking a moment, Devavrata comforted him and said, “Duryodhana, listen calmly. Before this I vowed to you that I would kill ten thousand Kshatriyas each day and return from the field. That vow I have kept. Today I will do a still greater deed. Today either I will sleep, being killed, or I will kill the Pandavas. The debt I owe you for the food you have given me I will repay today by casting away my life at the head of your army.” Saying this, the unconquered warrior fell on the Pandava army, raining arrows among the Kshatriyas.

On that tenth day Bhishma, showing his strength, drained the fire of the best warriors of the Panchalas as the sun draws up the moisture of the earth with its rays. Killing ten thousand swift elephants, ten thousand horses with their riders, and a full two hundred thousand foot soldiers, he blazed in battle like a fire without smoke. Like the burning sun at the northern turn, no Pandava could lift his eyes to look at him. Ringed on every side by countless warriors, Bhishma looked like the peak of Meru wrapped in clouds. The sons of Dhritarashtra, with a vast force, guarded him all around.

The killing that day was such that a river of blood ran across the field, the warriors’ hair its moss and weeds. Heads cut from bodies fell with a sound like a rain of stones; the earth was covered with the trunks of men, the torn bodies of elephants, and the severed limbs of horses. The rising, red-smoke-colored dust threw such a veil that soldiers could not tell friend from foe; father did not know son, and son did not know father. Then a terrible battle broke out.

A sub-tale: Bhishma speaks of “the debt of food.” This is no mere figure. Bhishma was all his life a servant of the throne of Hastinapura; he gave up both marriage and kingship for the happiness of his father Santanu, and for that he earned the name Bhishma, “he of the terrible vow.” That same debt of salt binds him to fight on Duryodhana’s side, though his heart leans toward the Pandavas. This is the root of his tragedy.

Every warrior clashes: guarding Bhishma against killing Bhishma

Arjuna said to Shikhandi, “Move toward the grandsire. Today feel not the least fear of Bhishma. I will throw him down from his fine chariot with my keen arrows.” Hearing this, Shikhandi sprang at the son of Ganga. Dhrishtadyumna, Abhimanyu, old Virata, Drupada, Kuntibhoja, Nakula, Sahadeva, and Yudhishthira himself all rushed toward Bhishma.

Then the Kaurava warriors came out to guard Bhishma. Chitrasena checked Chekitana, Kritavarma checked Dhrishtadyumna, Somadatta’s son Bhurishravas checked Bhima, Vikarna checked Nakula, Kripa checked Sahadeva, and Duryodhana himself checked Satyaki. Sudakshina checked Abhimanyu, Ashvatthama checked Virata and Drupada, Drona checked Yudhishthira, and the great archer Dussasana checked Arjuna as he advanced toward Bhishma with Shikhandi in front.

Then we saw a wonderful thing. Reaching Dussasana’s chariot, Arjuna could go no further. As a shore holds back the swelling sea, so Dussasana held back the enraged Partha. Dussasana pierced Arjuna with three arrows and Vasudeva with twenty. The angry Arjuna pierced Dussasana with a hundred arrows, which passed through his armor and drank his blood. Dussasana struck him in the forehead with three keen arrows, and with them Arjuna shone like Meru with its crests. In the end, hard-pressed by Arjuna’s arrows, Dussasana left him and went off toward Bhishma’s chariot; for the drowning man, Bhishma became his island.

Meanwhile the Rakshasa Alambusha, son of Rishyasringa, checked Satyaki. Satyaki, laughing, pierced the Rakshasa with nine arrows; the Rakshasa wounded the descendant of Sini with as many. A hail of arrows passed between them, and the great and fiery Satyaki, though deeply struck, held firm, laughing at his own valor.

Abhimanyu, for Bhishma’s sake and to aid his father Partha, fought Brihadbala. The Kosala king pierced Subhadra’s son first with five arrows, then with twenty; Abhimanyu answered with eight iron arrows, then cut Brihadbala’s bow and struck him with thirty more. This duel of theirs looked like the old war of Vali and Indra in the battle of the gods and Asuras. On one side, Duryodhana pierced Abhimanyu’s chest with nine straight arrows; Abhimanyu hurled a fearsome dart like the rod of Death at Duryodhana’s chariot, which Duryodhana cut in two in midair with a broad arrow. Then Abhimanyu pierced the Kuru king’s chest with ten keen arrows.

On another side a fierce duel ran between Paurava and Dhrishtaketu. Each cut the other’s bow and killed the other’s horses, and, left without chariots, they closed with swords. Bearing shields of bull’s hide marked with a hundred moons and a hundred stars, and bright swords, they wheeled and advanced and gave ground like two lions fighting for one lioness in the forest. Paurava struck Dhrishtaketu on the brow, and the Chedi king struck Paurava on the shoulder, and both fell wounded on the field. Jayatsena bore Paurava, and Sahadeva bore Dhrishtaketu, away from the fight.

The battle of Drona and the Panchala prince Dhrishtadyumna was terrible too. Drona cut the great bow of Prishata’s son and pierced him deep with fifty arrows. Dhrishtadyumna took up another bow and rained arrows, then hurled at Drona a mace like the rod of Death, which Drona shattered with fifty arrows. Dhrishtadyumna threw an iron dart, and Drona cut that too with nine arrows. Meanwhile Bhima entered the elephant force like Indra with the thunderbolt and laid the mountain-like beasts low; the fallen elephants lay scattered on the earth like heaps of antimony.

On every side the wager was “victory for Bhishma” and “victory over Bhishma,” as though Bhishma were the very stake on which the whole war turned.

The gist: as Arjuna and Shikhandi tried to reach Bhishma, the Kaurava great warriors blocked them at every turn; Dussasana gave Arjuna a hard fight. The whole field turned on one center: to save Bhishma, or to bring him down.

Bhishma like fire, and the passing over of Shikhandi

Bhishma’s chariot was his fire-altar, his bow the flame of that fire, his swords and maces its fuel, and the rain of his arrows its burning sparks, with which he was reducing the Kshatriyas to ash. The full fourteen thousand great warriors of the Chedi, Kashi, and Karusha lands, with gold-worked standards and ready to give up their lives, were sent to the realm of Yama with their chariots, horses, and elephants the moment they came near Bhishma. Among the Somakas there was not one great warrior who went near Bhishma and came back alive.

Shikhandi struck Bhishma’s chest with ten broad arrows. But the son of Ganga only looked at him with anger, as though he would burn him with that look alone; remembering his woman’s form, he did not strike him. Shikhandi could not understand it. Arjuna said again, “Kill the grandsire at once. In Yudhishthira’s army there is none but you fit to fight him.”

Shikhandi covered the grandsire with many arrows, but Devavrata passed over them and held back only the enraged Arjuna, sending the rest of the Pandava army to the next world. As a man scorched by heat gladly takes the falling rain, so the son of Ganga bore Shikhandi’s arrows with a smile; they gave him no pain at all.

Then Duryodhana called out to all his warriors, “Fall on Arjuna from every side. Bhishma, who knows the duty of a commander, will guard you all.” Hearing this, warriors of many lands, the Videhas, Kalingas, Nishadas, Sauviras, Bahlikas, Daradas, Malavas, Surasenas, Sivis, Vasatis, Salvas, Sakas, Trigartas, Ambashthas, and Kaikeyas, fell on Arjuna like swarms of moths on a fire. The great-armed Dhananjaya, calling to mind his divine weapons, burned those commanders to ash at the head of their own divisions, like moths in a flame. His Gandiva blazed in the sky as it wove thousands of arrows. Pierced by those arrows and seeing their tall standards cut and fallen, those Kshatriyas, even all together, could not come near the ape-bannered Partha. Car-warriors with their standards, horsemen with their horses, elephant-riders with their elephants, kept falling under the arrows of the diadem-crowned one.

Then Arjuna, driving off the Kaurava army, rained arrows on Dussasana that split through him and sank into the earth like snakes entering an anthill. Arjuna felled Dussasana’s horses and charioteer, stripped Vivimshati of his chariot with twenty arrows, and left Kripa, Vikarna, and Salya without chariots too; all these fled. Having beaten these great warriors in the forenoon, Partha blazed like a fire without smoke. Scattering arrow-rays on every side like the sun, he felled many kings and ran a great river of blood between the Kuru and Pandava armies. Stained with the blood of cut elephants, horses, and car-warriors, that ground looked like a red cloud of autumn. Dogs, crows, vultures, wolves, and jackals, seeing the food before them, sent up fearful howls; winds blew from every quarter, and Rakshasas and ghosts were seen there, shrieking aloud.

Then Bhishma called up a divine weapon and attacked Arjuna; Shikhandi, in his armor, sprang into the way, and Bhishma drew back that fire-like weapon. Meanwhile the son of Kunti with his white horses went on destroying your army, confounding the grandsire.

A key to reading this (the idea): mark the source of Bhishma’s defeat. A moral bond brings him down. He will not kill Shikhandi, for that is his own vow. His death follows from that vow, and he himself opened this door. This is the fineness of the Mahabharata, where even defeat is woven of the threads of dharma and vow.

“These are Arjuna’s arrows, not Shikhandi’s”: Bhishma resolves to let go

With Shikhandi in front, the Pandavas ringed Bhishma on every side and pierced him again and again. The Srinjayas together struck him with the Sataghni, a many-killing weapon, with spiked maces, axes, mallets, darts, and gold-winged arrows. His armor was pierced in place after place, yet struck in every vital spot Bhishma felt no pain. To his enemies he looked like the fire of the world’s end.

The angry Arjuna, putting Shikhandi in front, cut Bhishma’s bow. Then Drona, Kritavarma, Jayadratha, Bhurishravas, Sala, Salya, and Bhagadatta, seven great warriors, could not bear this deed and fell on him in fury. “Kill, pierce, cut him down” rose in a terrible din around Arjuna’s chariot. To guard him, Satyaki, Bhima, Dhrishtadyumna, Virata, Drupada, Ghatotkacha, and Abhimanyu came forward.

Bhishma took up another, still harder bow; Arjuna cut it too with three arrows. Arjuna, able to draw the bow even with his left hand, cut away all of Bhishma’s bows one after another. Then Bhishma, licking his lips in rage, took up a dart that could split a mountain and hurled it at Arjuna’s chariot. Arjuna cut that dart into five pieces with five broad arrows.

Seeing his dart cut apart, Bhishma began to think within himself. “With one bow alone I could kill all the Pandavas, if Vishnu himself were not their guardian. But for two reasons I will not fight them: one, that they cannot be killed; the other, Shikhandi’s woman’s form. My father gave me two boons, that I should be unkillable in battle and that my death should rest on my own will. Now the hour is right; I wish for my death.”

Knowing this resolve of Bhishma’s, the rishis and the Vasus stationed in the sky said, “Son, your resolve is welcome to us as well. Do as you have resolved; turn your mind from battle.” Then a fragrant wind laden with water-drops began to blow, divine drums sounded, and flowers rained on Bhishma. No one but Bhishma heard those words. Sanjaya says he himself heard them, by the divine sight Vyasa had given him. At the thought of Bhishma falling from his chariot, the hearts of the gods filled with grief.

Shikhandi pierced the grandsire’s chest with nine keen arrows. Bhishma did not stir, like a mountain steady in an earthquake. Then Arjuna, laughing, drew the Gandiva and pierced every vital spot of Bhishma with twenty-five arrows, and then with hundreds. Arjuna cut Bhishma’s bow again, felled his standard, and made his chariot tremble. Bhishma took up a still stronger bow, but in the blink of an eye Arjuna cut it too into three pieces.

Then Bhishma said to Dussasana with a smile, “See, Dussasana, these arrows coming at me in one line, whose touch is like the thunderbolt, are Arjuna’s, not Shikhandi’s. Splitting my hard armor, striking me with the force of a pestle, these arrows are not Shikhandi’s. Like poison-filled, angry snakes entering my vitals, these arrows are not Shikhandi’s; cutting me as winter’s cold cuts the cattle to the quick, these arrows are not Shikhandi’s. No one but Jishnu, the wielder of the Gandiva, could give me this pain, not all the kings together.”

Saying this, Bhishma hurled a dart at Partha; Arjuna cut it into three pieces with three arrows. Then Bhishma took up a gold-worked shield and sword, but before he could step down from the chariot Arjuna cut the shield into a hundred pieces with his arrows. Yudhishthira called out to his army, “Fall on the son of Ganga, feel not the least fear.” From every side the warriors sprang at that lone hero.

A key to reading this (the boon): Bhishma has the boon of death at his own choosing, meaning he will not give up his life until he himself wills it. This is why, pierced with arrows, he does not die at once. This boon will be decisive in what follows, for he will hold his life back, waiting for the Uttarayana, the season of the sun’s turn toward the north.

The gist: Arjuna cut away all of Bhishma’s bows, darts, and shields one after another. Bhishma recognized that the deadly arrows were Arjuna’s, not Shikhandi’s, and with the leave of the rishis and Vasus he resolved of his own will to give up his life.

The fall from the chariot, and lying on the bed of arrows

On that tenth day there was no space even two fingers wide on Bhishma’s body that was not pierced with arrows. Then, a little before sunset, in the very sight of your sons, he fell from his chariot with his head to the east. As he fell, cries of grief from the gods and the kings of the earth rang through the sky. Like Indra’s uprooted standard, that great-armed hero came down, making the earth tremble. But because he was pierced with arrows on every side, his body did not touch the ground; he lay on the bed of arrows.

In that moment a divine presence entered the great archer. A cool rain fell from the sky, and the earth trembled. As he fell, Bhishma had marked that the sun was still in the southern course, the season of the sun’s stay in the south. Remembering that unfit season, he did not let his life depart. Divine voices sounded all around in the sky: “Son of Ganga, best knower of weapons, why should he give up his life in the southern course?” Bhishma answered, “I am alive.” Fallen to the earth, waiting for the northern course, he did not release his life.

Then Ganga, the daughter of Himavat, sent the great rishis in the form of swans. Those swan-formed rishis of Lake Manasa came to the place where Bhishma lay on the bed of arrows, to see him. Circling him, and remembering that the sun was in the southern course, they said to one another, “Why should so great a one as Bhishma leave the body in the southern course?” Saying this, the swans set off toward the south. Bhishma watched them, thought a moment, and said, “As long as the sun is in the southern course, I will not give up my life. Only when the northern course comes will I go to my ancient home. This is my resolve. Let my father’s boon hold true, that my death rest on my own will.” Saying this, he lay on the bed of arrows.

When that crest of the Kuru line fell, the Pandavas and the Srinjayas roared like lions. At Bhishma’s defeat Duryodhana was at a loss; the Kurus, with Kripa and Duryodhana, half fainting with grief, stood still a long while, as though their thighs had been seized. The victorious Pandavas blew their gold-worked conches, and Bhima, having killed the enraged enemy, roared in delight, slapping his arms. The warriors of both armies laid down their weapons and fell to brooding; some cried out, some fled, some cursed the Kshatriya’s code, some praised Bhishma. The rishis and the ancestors praised that man of high vows. And the wise Bhishma, taking to the yoga taught in the Upanishads, praying within himself, lay calm, waiting for his hour.

A key to reading this (the calendar): the “Dakshinayana” is the six months when the sun stays to the south in the sky; the “Uttarayana” is the six months when it turns toward the north. By tradition the northern course is the fit season for leaving the body. On the strength of his boon of death at his own choosing, Bhishma will wait months on the bed of arrows, until the sun turns north.

The ceasefire, and the pillow of arrows

Sanjaya told Dhritarashtra that the grandsire of the Kurus, killed at the hour of twilight, sank the sons of Dhritarashtra in grief and the Panchalas in joy. Because he was pierced with arrows, his body rested on the bed of arrows without touching the earth. As he fell, a cry of woe rose among all creatures; fear entered the hearts of the Kshatriyas of both armies. Gloom spread over the sky, the sun grew dim, and the earth seemed to shriek. People said, “This is the best of the knowers of the Vedas! This is the one who, for his father Santanu’s happiness, gave up the continuance of his own line.” So the rishis, the Siddhas, and the Charanas spoke of that hero on the bed of arrows.

Seeing Bhishma fallen, Dussasana rushed to Drona’s division and gave him the sorrowful news. Hearing it, Drona dropped from his chariot, then, recovering, ordered the Kaurava army to stop the fight. Seeing the Kauravas halt, the Pandavas too had the fighting stopped through their messengers. Then the kings of both sides took off their armor and came to Bhishma, as gods go toward Prajapati. Thousands of warriors, Pandava and Kaurava together, stood by Bhishma on the bed of arrows and bowed to him.

The righteous Bhishma greeted them all. “Welcome, you great and fortunate warriors. I am glad of the sight of you.” Then, seeing his head hang low, he said, “My head is bending far down; give me a pillow.” The kings had very soft, fine cloth pillows brought, but Bhishma did not want them. He said with a laugh, “Kings, these are not fit for a hero’s bed.” Then he looked to Arjuna and said, “Great-armed Dhananjaya, my head is bending down; give me a pillow such as you think right.”

With tears in his eyes, Arjuna strung his bow, bowed to the grandsire, and said, “Command me, I am your servant. What shall I do?” Bhishma said, “Partha, you know the Kshatriya’s dharma and are the best of all archers; give me a pillow fit for my head.” Arjuna said, “So be it,” took the Gandiva and some straight arrows, charged them with mantras, and with the grandsire’s leave propped up Bhishma’s head with three strong arrows, making, as it were, a pillow of arrows.

Seeing that Arjuna had understood his mind, Bhishma was greatly pleased. He said, “Son of Pandu, you have given me a pillow fit for my bed. Had you done otherwise, I would have cursed you in my anger. This is how a Kshatriya should sleep on his bed of arrows on the field of war.” Then he turned to all the kings. “See what a pillow the son of Pandu has given me! I will sleep on this bed until the sun turns toward the north. When the sun moves on his seven-horsed chariot toward the quarter of Kubera, then I will give up my life like a friend seeing a dear friend off. Dig a trench around me, kings. Pierced with hundreds of arrows, I will worship the sun. And you, let go of enmity and cease from war.”

Then some skilled surgeons came with their tools to draw out the arrows. Seeing them, the son of Ganga said to Duryodhana, “Send these surgeons away with fitting honor and gifts of wealth. What need have I of surgeons now, in this state? I have won the highest and best state of the Kshatriya’s dharma. It is not fitting to treat me, lying on the bed of arrows. Let my last rites be done with these arrows still in me.” Duryodhana sent the surgeons away with honor, and all the kings were struck with wonder at Bhishma’s devotion to dharma. Then the Pandavas and the Kauravas circled the bed three times, set guards all around, and, their bodies drenched in blood and their hearts heavy, returned to their camps in the evening.

That night Krishna came to the Pandavas, who sat rejoicing, and said to Yudhishthira, “Delighter of the Kurus, by good fortune the victory is yours; by good fortune the unconquerable Bhishma has been brought down.” Yudhishthira answered, “By your grace is the victory, by your wrath the defeat. You are our refuge. It is no wonder that those you always guard should win.” Hearing this, Krishna smiled and said, “Best of kings, such words come only from you.”

A sub-tale: the next day thousands of women, old men, children, and onlookers poured out to see Bhishma as people come to see the sun. Maidens showered him with sandal powder, parched grain, and garlands. Tormented with thirst, Bhishma asked for water; the kings brought cool water, but he said that human comforts were no longer fit for him. He called Arjuna. Arjuna pierced the earth with the Gandiva and drew up, by the Parjanya weapon, a stream of cool, nectar-scented water and quenched the grandsire’s thirst. Seeing this more-than-human deed, all the kings were amazed. Bhishma praised Arjuna and again urged Duryodhana to make peace with the Pandavas, to give back half the kingdom, to let this war end with his own death. But like a dying patient refusing medicine, Duryodhana would not take those good words.

The gist: the moment Bhishma fell, both armies stopped the fighting. The grandsire refused the soft pillows and asked Arjuna for a pillow of arrows, repeated his resolve to hold his life until the northern course, and dismissed the surgeons. To the end he counseled Duryodhana toward peace, and Duryodhana refused.

Nine days passed, and Yudhishthira’s courage broke

For nine days the field of Kurukshetra had burned under Bhishma’s arrows. On the ninth day too, when the sun set and the dreadful hour of twilight came, in which nothing of the battle can be seen, Yudhishthira saw that his own army, cut down by Bhishma, had thrown away its weapons, was fleeing in fear, and that the Somaka heroes stood beaten and hopeless. The king thought a few moments and ordered the army withdrawn. The Kauravas too gathered in their army, and the great warriors of both sides returned to their camps. Because Bhishma had beaten the Pandavas and Srinjayas that day, the sons of Dhritarashtra, praising him and rejoicing, saw him to his tent.

A key to reading this (lineage): Bhishma is the son of Santanu and Ganga, and so he is called Gangeya, son of Santanu, and Devavrata. To both the Pandavas and the Kauravas he is the grandsire, the eldest and most honored man on the father’s side of both these houses. The Srinjayas and the Somakas are the Panchala warrior clans on the Pandavas’ side.

Night came down, the night that carries off the senses of all beings. In that dread hour the Pandavas, the Vrishnis, and the unconquered Srinjayas gathered for counsel. Then Yudhishthira, after long thought, cast his eyes on Vasudeva Krishna and said, “Krishna, look at this Bhishma of fierce might. As an elephant crushes a forest of reeds, he crushes my army. We cannot lift our eyes to that great one. Like a raging wildfire he licks up my army. Bow in hand, filled with wrath, raining arrows, he grows as terrible as the serpent Takshaka. An angry Yama can be beaten, and Indra with the thunderbolt, and Varuna with his noose, and Kubera with his mace, but Bhishma in his fury is unconquerable in battle.”

Yudhishthira’s voice had broken from within. He said, “Unconquered one, through the weakness of my mind I am drowning in a sea of grief. I will go to the forest; that is better for me. I no longer wish for war. As a moth leaps into a burning fire and finds only death, so do I fall upon Bhishma. Showing my valor for the sake of the kingdom, I am, alas, being led to ruin. My brave brothers are terribly wounded by arrows. For love of me, their elder brother, they were stripped of their kingdom and had to go to the forest. Madhusudana, on my account Draupadi was plunged into this misery. If my brothers and I are worthy of your grace, then, Krishna, tell me the way of my good, without breaking your own dharma.”

Hearing these words and the whole state of things, Krishna answered in compassion, comforting Yudhishthira, “Son of Dharma, firm in truth, do not grieve, you who have Arjuna and Bhima for slayers of foes. These two have the fire and the wind in their fierceness, and the two sons of Madri are heroes like Indra. For the bond of goodwill between us, set me too to this task. I myself will fight Bhishma. What is there, at your word, that I cannot do in this great war? If Arjuna does not wish to kill him, I alone, on a single chariot, will throw down that old grandsire before the sons of Dhritarashtra. But, king, if you see victory certain in Bhishma’s death, then this task is not heavy for Arjuna either. Earlier, at Upaplavya, Partha vowed before many that he would kill the son of Ganga. The words of the wise Partha should be kept.”

Yudhishthira said, “Great-armed one, it is as you say. Where you are on my side, I would conquer the gods with Indra, let alone Bhishma. But, Krishna, for the sake of your greatness I cannot make your word false. You have already vowed that you will not fight for me, only counsel. So, Madhava, help me without fighting. And there is one more thing that has come to my mind. Bhishma told me he would not fight for me, but would surely give me good counsel. So let us all go with you to Devavrata and ask him himself the means of his death. We were children, we were orphans, and he reared us. That grandsire, the father of our father, is the very one from whom, alas, I would today ask the way to his death. Shame on this Kshatriya calling.”

The gist: broken by nine days of slaughter, Yudhishthira went so far as to speak of going to the forest. Krishna offered to take up arms himself, but Yudhishthira reminded him of his vow not to fight. In the end they resolved to go to Bhishma and ask him the means of his own death. Here opens the hard moral knot of the Mahabharata, where the disciples go to their revered grandsire to ask him the secret of killing him.

The grandsire himself reveals the door of his death

Having resolved this, the Pandavas and Vasudeva took off their armor and weapons and went together into Bhishma’s tent. Inside, they bowed their heads to the grandsire and took refuge with him. The great-armed Bhishma spoke words of affection. “Welcome, man of the Vrishni line. Welcome, Dhananjaya. Welcome to you, King Yudhishthira, and to you, Bhima, and to you, twin brothers. What may I now do to add to your joy? However hard it may be, I will do it with all my heart.”

To the son of Ganga, who spoke thus again and again with such affection, Yudhishthira said with a glad and loving heart, “All-knowing one, how may we gain victory, how may we gain the kingdom, and how may this slaughter of creatures be stopped? Tell me all this, lord. Tell me the means of your own death. Hero, how can we bear you in battle? You give the enemy no gap. Seeing your bow always drawn to a circle, no one can tell when you take up an arrow, when you aim, and when you loose. Grandsire, tell us the means by which we may defeat you, gain the kingdom, and stop this ruin of my army.”

The son of Santanu said to the son of Pandu, “Son of Kunti, while I live, victory in battle cannot be yours; this I say truly. But when I am beaten in battle, then you may win. So if you wish for victory, throw me down without delay. Sons of Pritha, I give you leave; strike me as you please. With me killed, all the rest will be killed, so do as I say.”

Yudhishthira asked again, “In your wrath you become like Death with his mace. Indra with the thunderbolt, or Varuna, or Yama may be beaten, but you are unconquerable even to the gods with Indra and the Asuras. What then is the means?”

Bhishma said, “Great-armed one, what you say is true. When I take up bow and arrow and fight with care, the gods with Indra and the Asuras cannot beat me. But if I lay aside my weapons, then these great warriors can kill me. With one who has thrown away his weapons, one who has fallen, one whose armor has slipped, one whose standard is down, one who is fleeing, one who is afraid, one who says ‘I am in your refuge,’ one who is a woman, one who bears a woman’s name, one unable to guard himself, one who has an only son, or one of low birth, I do not fight. And hear this too: I have a rule that I never fight when I see an ill omen.

Now Bhishma opened the door he knew. He said, “In your army is Drupada’s son called Shikhandi, wrathful in battle, brave, and ever victorious. He was a woman first and became a man later; this you all know well. Let Arjuna, in his armor, put Shikhandi before him and attack me with his keen arrows. When that ill-omened one, who was a woman first, is before me, I will not wish to strike him, even armed with bow and arrow. On that chance, best of the Bharatas, let Dhananjaya the son of Pandu pierce me on every side with his arrows. Except for Krishna and Arjuna, I see no one in the three worlds able to kill me. So let Arjuna put Shikhandi or someone else before him and throw me down from my chariot. Then victory is certain.”

A key to reading this (the idea): Shikhandi was Drupada’s daughter, made a man by a boon, and bound to the Amba of Bhishma’s earlier life who had sworn enmity against him. Bhishma’s vow is that he raises no weapon against a woman, or against one born a woman, or against one who bears a woman’s name. That very vow becomes the door of his death. This is part of the moral weave of the Mahabharata, where dharma itself leaves a man unguarded.

Knowing all this, the Pandavas bowed to the grandsire and went back to their camps. But hearing the words of the son of Ganga, ready now to go to the other world, Arjuna burned with grief, and his face bent low in shame. He said, “Madhava, how am I to fight the grandsire, who is greater in years, full of wisdom and judgment, the oldest man of our line? As a child at play I would climb onto his lap with my dust-covered body and soil him. He is the father of my father Pandu. Once, as a child on his lap, I called him ‘Father.’ Then he said, ‘I am not your father, but your father’s father, O Bharata.’ The one who said that, how am I to kill him? Whether victory or death comes, I will not fight that great one. Krishna, what do you say?”

Vasudeva said, “Jishnu, having first vowed the killing of Bhishma, how can you now draw back from it, against the Kshatriya’s dharma? Partha, throw down from his chariot that Kshatriya unconquerable in battle, for without killing the son of Ganga your victory will never come. The gods have settled it so, and what is set beforehand must happen. Brihaspati told Indra in old times that one who comes as a foe, even if old and full of every merit and worthy of reverence, must be killed. Dhananjaya, this is the eternal dharma of the Kshatriya, that he fight without malice, protect his subjects, and perform sacrifices.”

Arjuna said, “Krishna, Shikhandi will be the cause of Bhishma’s death, for at the sight of the Panchala prince Bhishma gives up striking. So, putting Shikhandi before us and at our head, we will bring down the son of Ganga. I will hold the other archers back with my arrows, and Shikhandi alone will fight Bhishma, for I have heard from the best of the Kurus himself that he will not strike Shikhandi.” Having resolved this and taken Bhishma’s leave, the Pandavas returned with Krishna, glad at heart, and went to their rest.

The gist: Bhishma himself opened the door of his death, the placing of Shikhandi in front. Arjuna’s childhood love and Krishna’s hard Kshatriya dharma stand here face to face. Krishna pushed Arjuna toward duty by recalling his old vow. This is the moment where devotion, dharma, and grief clash together, and no one wins an easy victory.

Sunrise on the tenth day, Shikhandi before them all

Dhritarashtra asked, “Sanjaya, how did Shikhandi move toward the son of Ganga, and how did Bhishma move toward the Pandavas? Tell me all this.”

Sanjaya said, “At the hour of sunrise the Pandavas, with the sound of kettledrums, cymbals, and milk-white conches, went out for battle with Shikhandi at the front of their army. Shikhandi stood at the very head of the whole army. Bhima and Arjuna became the guards of his chariot wheels. Behind him were Draupadi’s sons and the brave Abhimanyu. The great warriors Satyaki and Chekitana guarded the rearmost line. Behind them came Dhrishtadyumna ringed by the Panchalas, then King Yudhishthira with his twin brothers, then Virata, then Drupada. The five Kaikeya brothers and the brave Dhrishtaketu guarded the rear of the Pandava army.”

Sanjaya said, “The Kauravas too set out with the great warrior Bhishma at the head of their whole army. Behind him were the great archer Drona and his son Ashvatthama, then Bhagadatta ringed by his elephant force, then Kripa and Kritavarma, then the Kamboja king Sudakshina, the Magadha king Jayatsena, Subala’s son Shakuni, and Brihadbala. Each day Bhishma formed his array, at times the Asura, at times the Paishacha, at times the Rakshasa. With Arjuna at the front and Shikhandi in the van, the Pandavas advanced toward Bhishma, scattering arrows of many kinds.”

A key to reading this (the idea): a vyuha is a special shaping or mold of the army, in which the soldiers stand in a set figure. The Asura, Paishacha, and Rakshasa arrays are the names of such shapes, whose form and fierceness their names suggest. Bhishma formed a different array each day, so the enemy could not guess his move in advance.

Pierced by Bhishma’s arrows, many blood-soaked Kaurava warriors passed to the other world. Nakula, Sahadeva, and Satyaki began to press the Kaurava army hard, and it could not stand before that vast Pandava host, but fled on every side. Then Dhritarashtra asked what the enraged Bhishma did, seeing his army hard-pressed. Sanjaya said, “That slaughter of his army Bhishma could not bear. The unconquered great archer set aside all care for his life and rained long, calf-toothed, and crescent-shaped arrows on the Pandavas, the Panchalas, and the Srinjayas. He held back the five great warriors of the Pandavas, killed countless elephants and horses, and, throwing car-warriors from their cars, riders from their horses, and elephant-riders from the backs of their beasts, struck terror into the foe. His bow, like Indra’s, seemed always drawn to a circle.”

On that tenth day Bhishma burned Shikhandi’s division like a wildfire. Then Shikhandi, wrathful as a poison-filled snake, struck Bhishma in the middle of the chest with three arrows. Struck deep, Bhishma saw that it was Shikhandi. Angry, yet unwilling to fight him, Bhishma said with a laugh, “Whether you strike me or not, I will never fight you. You are that Shikhandi the Creator made you first.”

Hearing this, Shikhandi, licking his lips in rage, said, “Great-armed one, I know you are the destroyer of the Kshatriya line. I have heard the tale of your battle with Parashurama, and of your more-than-human prowess. Still I will fight you today. To do what is dear to the Pandavas and to myself, slayer of foes, I will fight you today. I will surely kill you; I swear it by my truth. Ever-victorious Bhishma, look on this world for the last time.” Saying this, Shikhandi pierced Bhishma with five straight arrows.

A sub-tale: this enmity of Shikhandi toward Bhishma was no chance thing. Earlier in the Mahabharata, Amba, the daughter of the king of Kashi, was carried off by Bhishma from her own choosing, then cast aside, so that she could not marry. Amba took a vow of revenge against Bhishma, performed austerities, gave up her life, and was born in Drupada’s house as Shikhandi, who turned from woman to man. This is why Bhishma, counting him “born in a woman’s form,” raises no weapon against him, and why this enmity of an earlier life becomes the instrument of his death.

Hearing his words, Arjuna, holding Shikhandi to be Bhishma’s destroyer, urged him on. “I will stay behind you and scatter the enemy with my arrows. Fall on Bhishma in your fury. If you return today without killing Bhishma, you and I both will be a laughingstock in the world. You stop the grandsire, and I will hold back Drona, Ashvatthama, Kripa, Duryodhana, Chitrasena, Vikarna, the Sindhu king Jayadratha, Vinda and Anuvinda of Avanti, the Kamboja king Sudakshina, Bhagadatta, the Magadha king, Somadatta’s son, and all the rest of the great warriors, as a shore holds back the surging sea. You kill the grandsire.”

The grandsire’s last resolve, and a fierce duel

Dhritarashtra asked whether Bhishma’s chariot or bow had broken. Sanjaya said, “No, in battle neither Bhishma’s bow broke nor was his chariot harmed. He was killing the enemy with straight arrows. On the tenth day he tore the enemy army into thousands. The Pandavas could not defeat that great archer. Then Dhananjaya, who could draw the bow even with his left hand, came there, roaring like a lion and raining arrows. Frightened at his roar, the Kaurava warriors fled like small animals at the lion’s sound.”

Seeing this, the fearful Duryodhana said to Bhishma, “Son of Ganga, the son of Pandu with his white horses and Krishna for his charioteer is burning my whole army like a wildfire. See, my soldiers are all fleeing. As a herdsman drives cattle in the forest, so my army is being driven. Bhima, Satyaki, Chekitana, the two sons of Madri, the brave Abhimanyu, Dhrishtadyumna, and the Rakshasa Ghatotkacha are all breaking my army. Best of men, except for you I see no refuge for these hard-pressed soldiers.”

Then your father Devavrata thought a moment and, comforting Duryodhana, said, “Duryodhana, listen calmly. Before this I vowed to you that I would kill ten thousand fine Kshatriyas each day and only then return from battle. I have kept that vow. Today I will do a still greater deed. Today either I will sleep, being killed, or I will kill the Pandavas. Best of men, from the debt of the food you have given me, I will free myself today by casting away my life at the head of your army.” Saying this, he fell on the Pandava army, raining arrows among the Kshatriyas.

On that tenth day Bhishma, showing his prowess, killed hundreds of thousands of warriors. He drained the fire of the bright kings among the Panchalas as the sun drains the water of the earth with its rays. Killing ten thousand swift elephants, ten thousand horses with their riders, and a full two hundred thousand foot soldiers, that best of men blazed like a fire without smoke. Like the burning sun at the northern turn, no Pandava could lift his eyes to him.

A key to reading this (the numbers, in modern terms): vast figures like “ten thousand elephants” or “two hundred thousand foot” are part of the Mahabharata’s poetic style, made to set in the mind the horror of one day’s slaughter. Rather than reading them as a literal count of troops, it is right to take them as heightened images, showing the enormousness of that age’s imagining of war.

Then Arjuna said to Shikhandi, “Move toward the grandsire. Feel not the least fear of Bhishma today. I will throw him down from his fine chariot with my keen arrows.” Hearing this, Shikhandi fell on the son of Ganga. Dhrishtadyumna and Abhimanyu, glad, sprang at Bhishma too. Old Virata, Drupada, and Kuntibhoja, in their armor, advanced on Bhishma. Nakula, Sahadeva, Yudhishthira, and all the rest rushed toward Bhishma as well.

The Kaurava warriors held them back. Chitrasena checked Chekitana, Kritavarma checked Dhrishtadyumna, Somadatta’s son Bhurishravas checked Bhima, Vikarna checked Nakula, and Kripa checked Sahadeva. Duryodhana himself checked Satyaki, and the great archer Dussasana checked Arjuna as he advanced with Shikhandi in front. Then a wonderful thing was seen: Arjuna, reaching Dussasana’s chariot, could go no further, for like a shore holding back the sea, Dussasana held him. A battle fierce as the old duel of Maya and Indra arose between the two. Arjuna pierced Dussasana with a hundred arrows, and Dussasana drove three keen arrows into Arjuna’s forehead, and pierced with them Arjuna shone like Meru with its crests. In the end, hard-pressed by Partha, Dussasana fled toward Bhishma’s chariot, and to the drowning man Bhishma became the island.

Meanwhile the Rakshasa Alambusha, son of Rishyasringa, checked Satyaki, Sudakshina checked Abhimanyu, Ashvatthama checked Virata and Drupada, and Drona, son of Bharadwaja, checked Yudhishthira himself. Hearing the thunderclap roll of Drona’s chariot, the Prabhadrakas trembled, and Yudhishthira’s vast army, held by Drona, could not move a single step forward. Thus the Kaurava heroes held back the Pandava great warriors in place after place to guard Bhishma, yet your sons’ army began to shake on every side with the slaughter.

The gist: on the tenth day Bhishma gave up all care for life and did a slaughter without match, while inwardly inviting his own death. His resolve to repay the debt of food for Duryodhana, and on the other side the Pandava effort to reach Bhishma with Shikhandi in front, ran on together. Every guarding line bears witness to how hard it was to bring the grandsire down.

Bhishma became fire, and himself wished to give up his life

Dhritarashtra asked again how Bhishma fought on that tenth day. Sanjaya said, “That day, when Bhishma and Arjuna came face to face, there was a terrible slaughter. The son of Santanu, master of high and divine weapons, killed thousands of warriors again and again. Many heroes whose names and families were not even known, but who never turned from battle, were killed that day by Bhishma. Having burned the Pandava army for ten days, the righteous Bhishma gave up the will to guard his life. ‘I will kill no more of these best of warriors,’ he thought, and at the head of his own army he began to wish for his own death.”

Seeing Yudhishthira near, Bhishma said, “Yudhishthira, wise one, hear these righteous words that lead to heaven. Bharata, I no longer wish to guard this body. Long has the time passed in the slaughter of men in battle. If you would do what pleases me, put Partha with the Panchalas and Srinjayas at your front and strive to kill me.” Understanding his meaning, Yudhishthira advanced to battle with the support of the Srinjayas. Then Dhrishtadyumna and Yudhishthira urged their army on. “Advance, fight, conquer Bhishma. You all have the guard of Jishnu, Arjuna of unfailing aim. Srinjayas, fear not Bhishma today. Putting Shikhandi in front, we will surely conquer Bhishma today.”

Then the Pandavas, with Shikhandi and Arjuna in front, fell on Bhishma, and the Kauravas, with Bhishma in front, fell on the Pandavas. The earth shook with the rush of the two armies. The blare of conches and the lion-roars made a fearful din, and the rising dust spread like a cloud, in which the flashing weapons glittered like lightning. In that battle, as though it were the fight of two hawks over a piece of flesh, Bhishma became the very stake on which the victory of the Kaurava army rested.

Abhimanyu fought Duryodhana for Bhishma’s sake, Paurava fought Dhrishtaketu, and Ashvatthama fought Satyaki. Paurava and the Chedi king Dhrishtaketu, their chariots broken, closed on foot with sword and shield, wounded each other on the head and shoulder, and both fell; Jayatsena bore Paurava, and Sahadeva bore Dhrishtaketu, from the field. Abhimanyu fought the Kosala king Brihadbala, and Bhima fought the elephant force. Mountain-like elephants, falling under Bhima’s hand, filled the earth with their shrieks.

Arjuna, reaching the son of Ganga, began to press him with many arrows, as one rutting elephant in the forest falls on another. Then Arjuna, the son of Kunti, called to Shikhandi, “Move, move, toward Bhishma, and kill him.” Then Arjuna, putting Shikhandi in front, rushed toward Bhishma. In that hour Bhishma’s chariot was his fire-altar, his bow the flame of that fire, and swords and darts and maces its fuel. The rain of arrows he loosed was the blazing sparks of that fire, with which he was reducing the Kshatriyas to ash.

Shikhandi struck Bhishma in the middle of the chest with ten broad arrows. The son of Ganga only looked at Shikhandi with anger, as though he would burn the Panchala prince with that look, but remembering his woman’s form he did not strike him, in the sight of all. Shikhandi could not understand it. Then Arjuna said, “Run quickly and kill the grandsire. Hero, what more shall I say? In Yudhishthira’s army I see none fit to fight Bhishma but you.” Shikhandi covered the grandsire with many weapons, but Devavrata passed over those arrows and held back only the enraged Arjuna, sending the Pandava army to the next world with his keen arrows.

A key to reading this (the idea): this state of Bhishma is the peak of the Mahabharata’s moral tension. He knows Shikhandi is the instrument of his death, yet by his vow he raises no weapon against him. Call this faithfulness to dharma and to his vow, a faithfulness that knowingly leaves his own life unguarded. Shikhandi’s arrows only make him the medium; the real arrows are Arjuna’s.

Then, under Bhishma’s arrows, Satyaki, Bhima, Arjuna, Drupada, Virata, Dhrishtadyumna, and the rest of the Pandava great warriors began to sink in a sea of grief, but Arjuna guarded them all. Duryodhana said to his warriors, “Fall on Arjuna from every side. Bhishma, who knows the duty of a commander, will guard you all.” Then warriors of many peoples, the Videhas, Kalingas, Daserakas, Nishadas, Sauviras, Bahlikas, Daradas, Malavas, Surasenas, Sivis, Salvas, Sakas, Trigartas, and Kaikeyas, fell on Arjuna like swarms of moths on a fire. The great-armed Arjuna, calling up his divine weapons and weaving thousands of arrows, burned them all like moths in a flame. He felled Dussasana’s horses and charioteer, and left Vivimshati, Kripa, Vikarna, and Salya without chariots, and, having beaten these great warriors before noon, blazed like a wildfire without smoke. Forcing the Kaurava army to turn its back, Partha ran a river of blood across the field.

The knowledge given by Parashurama, and the tenth day’s slaughter

Sanjaya said, “When the warriors of both armies were arrayed on the field, they all fought with their minds set on the world of Brahma. In that general engagement, one kind of warrior did not fight one kind of warrior; car-warriors did not meet only car-warriors, foot only foot, horsemen only horsemen. Like madmen they all closed together. Elephants and men mingled so that the difference between them was lost.”

A key to reading this (the idea): “fighting with the mind set on the world of Brahma” means the heroes fought embracing death, in the belief that a Kshatriya who wins a hero’s death in battle goes to the highest worlds. For those who died at Kurukshetra this passage was held to be still more open. This is the faith of that age’s Kshatriya dharma, which makes even war a kind of sacrifice.

Sanjaya said, “In old times the wise Parashurama had taught Bhishma that knowledge of weapons which destroyed the ranks of the foe. On the strength of that knowledge the Kuru grandsire had each day killed ten thousand car-warriors. But on the tenth day Bhishma killed, single-handed, ten thousand elephants. Then he killed seven great warriors of the Matsyas and Panchalas, and by the skill of that learning felled five thousand foot soldiers, one thousand tuskers, and ten thousand horses. After this he killed Satanika, the dear brother of Virata, and then a full thousand Kshatriyas with his broad arrows. Whatever Pandava Kshatriyas followed Dhananjaya and came near Bhishma, all went to the realm of Yama.”

On the tenth day, standing between the two armies with bow in hand, Bhishma shone so that, like the noonday summer sun, no king could look at him. Seeing this, Krishna, the slayer of Madhu, said gladly to Arjuna, “There stands Bhishma, the son of Santanu, between the two armies. Put forth your strength, kill him, and win the victory. Check him at the place where he is breaking our ranks. Lord, no one but you dares to bear Bhishma’s arrows.” Then Arjuna, in that moment, made Bhishma, with his chariot, horses, and standard, invisible with his arrows, but Bhishma too cut apart Arjuna’s arrows with his own arrow-rain.

Then the Panchala king, Dhrishtaketu, Bhima, Dhrishtadyumna, Nakula and Sahadeva, Chekitana, the five Kaikeya brothers, Satyaki, Abhimanyu, Ghatotkacha, the five sons of Draupadi, Shikhandi, Kuntibhoja, Susarman, and Virata, these and many other strong warriors, hard-pressed by Bhishma’s arrows, began to sink in a sea of grief, but Arjuna saved them all. Then Shikhandi, guarded by Arjuna, fell alone and swiftly on Bhishma. Arjuna first killed those who followed Bhishma, then sprang at him himself. Satyaki, Chekitana, Dhrishtadyumna, Virata, Drupada, the two sons of Madri, Abhimanyu, and the five sons of Draupadi, all in Arjuna’s guard, fell on Bhishma alone.

All those firm archers pierced the many limbs of Bhishma’s body with sure arrows. Passing over those countless arrows, the unshaken Bhishma drove into the Pandava ranks and made all the arrows fruitless, as though in sport. Again and again he looked at Shikhandi with a laugh, but remembering his woman’s form, he loosed not a single arrow at him. On the other side he killed seven great warriors of Drupada’s division. Then a cry of woe rose among the Matsyas, Panchalas, and Chedis who were falling on that lone hero. They covered that single warrior, Bhishma the son of Bhagirathi, with foot soldiers, horses, chariots, and arrow-rain, as clouds cover the sun. Then in that battle, like the old war of gods and Asuras, the diadem-crowned Arjuna, putting Shikhandi before him, pierced Bhishma again and again.

The gist: Bhishma asked Yudhishthira himself to strive for his death, and on the tenth day, on the strength of Parashurama’s teaching, wrought a boundless slaughter single-handed. But now all the Pandava great warriors, in Arjuna’s guard, fell on him together with Shikhandi in front. Shikhandi’s presence ties Bhishma’s hands, and Arjuna’s arrows keep falling. The grandsire’s end is near.

The fall from the chariot, and the bed of arrows

Sanjaya said, “Thus all the Pandavas, putting Shikhandi in front and ringing Bhishma on every side, pierced him again and again. All the Srinjayas together rained on him fearsome Sataghnis, spiked maces, axes, mallets, short clubs, darts, lances, kampanas, long arrows, calf-toothed arrows, and rockets. Pierced by so many warriors, Bhishma’s armor was cut through on every side. Yet, pierced in every vital spot, Bhishma felt no pain. To his enemies he seemed the fire of the world’s end that rises at the close of an age. His bow and arrows were the blazing flames of that fire, the flight of his weapons its wind, the rattle of his chariot wheels its heat, and the bodies of heroes its abundant fuel.”

A key to reading this (the idea): the Sataghni is an old weapon whose very name means “the killer of a hundred”; it is taken to be a kind of spiked engine or projectile. The kampana too is a special thrown weapon. To liken Bhishma, near death, to the fire of the world’s end shows his unconquered spirit, that until the moment of his fall he stayed a warrior.

Bhishma moved through the crowds of the kings’ chariots, at times coming out of the press, then passing again through its midst. Passing over the Panchala king and Dhrishtaketu, he drove into the middle of the Pandava army, and pierced the six warriors Satyaki, Bhima, Arjuna, Drupada, Virata, and Dhrishtadyumna with very keen arrows that could split any armor. Those great warriors too, checking his arrows, struck Bhishma hard, each with ten arrows. Then the arrows Shikhandi loosed, whetted on stone and winged with gold, sank swiftly into Bhishma’s body.

Then the enraged, diadem-crowned Arjuna, putting Shikhandi in front, sprang at Bhishma and cut his bow. Seeing this, Drona, Kritavarma, the Sindhu king Jayadratha, Bhurishravas, Sala, Salya, and Bhagadatta, seven great warriors, could not bear it, and in fury, calling up their divine weapons, fell on Arjuna with a rain of arrows. The din of their rush was like the roar of the swelling sea at the end of an age. “Kill, bring him, seize, pierce, cut him down,” this fearful uproar rose around Arjuna’s chariot. Hearing it, Satyaki, Bhima, Dhrishtadyumna, and the other Pandava great warriors came forward to guard Arjuna.

Pierced by the arrows of Arjuna and Shikhandi, Bhishma still pierced the Pandava army, but now Arjuna’s arrows sank ceaselessly into his vital spots, and Shikhandi’s presence kept his hands tied. His armor was shattered, and his whole body was riddled with arrows. A little before the sun’s turn toward the north, with the hour of twilight near, that grandsire of the Kurus, pierced with countless arrows, like the boundary tree of the Kuru line, bent from his chariot toward Arjuna and fell.

When the ever-victorious Bhishma fell from his chariot toward the surface of the earth, a cry of woe spread among all creatures. But his body did not touch the earth, for the countless arrows sunk in his limbs held him up, and he lay on that bed of arrows, above the ground, in the air. At that moment the sky was covered with darkness, the sun’s light grew dim, and the earth seemed to shriek aloud.

A key to reading this (the idea): the “bed of arrows” is the scene for which Bhishma is most remembered in the Mahabharata. So many arrows were sunk in his body that they themselves became a couch, and Bhishma’s body, not touching the earth, rested on them in the air. This is a sign of his purity and of his boon of death at his own choosing, by which he could himself choose the time of leaving the body.

The moment Bhishma fell, fear filled the hearts of the Kshatriyas of both armies. Seeing the son of Santanu with his standard fallen and his armor cut open, both Kauravas and Pandavas were filled with gloom. The rishis, Siddhas, and Charanas said in the sky, “This is the best of the knowers of the Vedas. This is the one who first, knowing his father Santanu afflicted by desire, took the vow to draw up the seed of his own line.” Thus that best of men was praised as he lay on the bed of arrows.

At Bhishma’s fall your sons were at a loss. Their faces filled with grief, and they stood with heads bent in shame. On the other side the Pandavas, having won, stood at the head of their ranks and blew their great gold-worked conches. In that hour we saw Bhima leaping in great joy. A great swoon came over the Kauravas, and Karna and Duryodhana drew long breaths again and again. Dussasana rushed to Drona’s division and gave him the news of Bhishma’s fall. Hearing it, Drona dropped from his chariot, then, recovering, called the Kuru army off from battle. Seeing the Kurus halt, the Pandavas too sent messengers and had the fighting stopped.

The pillow, and the waiting for the northern course

Stopping the war and taking off their armor, thousands of warriors of both sides came to Bhishma as gods come to Prajapati. Bowing to the grandsire on the bed of arrows, the Pandavas and Kauravas stood before him. Then the righteous son of Santanu said to them, “Welcome to you all, you great and fortunate warriors. I am glad of the sight of you; you are the very likeness of the gods.” Then, with his head hanging low, he said, “My head is bending far down. Give me a pillow.”

The kings brought many fine, very soft, delicate cloth pillows and set them down, but the grandsire did not want them. That best of men said with a laugh, “Kings, these are not fit for a hero’s bed.” Then, looking to the great-armed Arjuna, he said, “Dhananjaya, great-armed one, my head is hanging down. Give me such a pillow as you think right.”

Then Arjuna, tears in his eyes, strung his bow, bowed to the grandsire, and said, “Best of the Kurus, first of all who bear weapons, command me, I am your servant. What shall I do, grandsire?” Bhishma said, “Partha, my head is hanging down. Without delay, give me a pillow fit for a hero’s bed. You are the best of archers, the knower of the Kshatriya’s dharma.” Then Arjuna said, “As you command,” and taking the Gandiva and some straight arrows, charging them with mantras, and with the grandsire’s leave, propped up Bhishma’s head from below with three keen arrows.

Seeing that Arjuna had read his mind and done this, Bhishma, who knew the heart of dharma, was greatly pleased. He praised Arjuna and, casting his eyes on all the Bharatas, said, “Son of Pandu, you have given me a pillow fit for my bed. Had you done otherwise, I would have cursed you in my anger. This is how a Kshatriya should sleep on his bed of arrows on the field of war.” Then he said to all the kings, “See what a pillow the son of Pandu has given me. I will sleep on this bed until the sun turns toward the north. When the sun moves on his seven-horsed chariot toward the quarter of Kubera, then I will give up my life like a friend seeing off a dear friend. Kings, dig a trench around me. Pierced with hundreds of arrows, I will worship the sun. And you, let go of enmity and cease from war.”

A key to reading this (the idea): the Uttarayana is the season when the sun turns from the south toward the north, roughly from the winter solstice. It is held auspicious and the day of the gods, and one who leaves the body in that season was believed to gain the highest passage. Bhishma had the boon of death at his own choosing, so he resolved to hold his life back and wait for the northern course. By “the quarter of Kubera” the northern direction is meant.

Then some surgeons skilled in weapon-wounds came with their tools to draw out the arrows. Seeing them, the son of Ganga said to Duryodhana, “Give these surgeons fitting honor and gifts of wealth and send them away. What need have I of surgeons in this state? I have won the highest and best state of the Kshatriya’s dharma. It is not fitting to treat one like me, lying on the bed of arrows. Let my last rites be done with these arrows in me.” Hearing this, Duryodhana sent the surgeons away with honor, and all the kings were struck with wonder at Bhishma’s devotion to dharma.

So, having given the grandsire his pillow, having bowed to him and circled him three times, and having set guards all around for his protection, those heroes, their bodies drenched in blood and their hearts heavy with grief, returned to their camps in the evening. Then at the fitting hour Krishna came to Yudhishthira and said, “Delighter of the Kurus, by good fortune the victory is yours. By good fortune that Bhishma, who was unkillable by men, has been brought down.” Yudhishthira answered, “By your grace is the victory, by your wrath the defeat. You are our refuge. It is no wonder that those you always guard should win.” Hearing this, Krishna smiled and said, “Best of kings, such words come only from you.”

The gist: Bhishma refused soft cloth for a pillow, and Arjuna held up his head with three arrows, a pillow fit for a hero’s bed. The grandsire dismissed the surgeons and resolved to hold his life on the bed of arrows, worshipping the sun until the northern course. The commander of ten days of great war rose now above the battle and, awaiting death at his own choosing, became the shared grief of both houses.

Source: the Mahabharata (Krishna-Dwaipayana Vyasa), Bhishma Parva; in the tradition of Gita Press, Gorakhpur.