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“There is Suyodhana”: Krishna goads Arjuna toward the king, and Duryodhana’s challenge to show him the feats he has only heard about
The horses had drunk, the chariot was moving again, and the white team was cutting deeper into the Kuru host when Krishna lifted one hand from the reins and pointed. There, Dhananjaya, he said. Look at Suyodhana, who has wronged us, and who has now come out to meet us himself. I find this a great wonder. There is no chariot warrior his equal; his arrows carry far; he is a great bowman, accomplished in every weapon, very hard to beat in a fight. This strong son of Dhritarashtra strikes hard and knows every mode of war. Raised in luxury, respected by even the foremost warriors, skilled in everything, Partha, he has always hated the Pandavas. For all these reasons, sinless one, I think this is the man you should fight now. Victory or defeat rests on him the way a game rests on a single throw of the dice. Pour out on him the poison of anger you have carried for so long. This chariot warrior is the root of every wrong done to the Pandavas, and now he is inside the range of your arrows. See to your success. Why has Duryodhana, who wants a kingdom, come out to fight you? It is our good fortune that he has come within reach. Do the thing, Dhananjaya, that takes his life. Drunk on wealth, he has never once known distress; he does not even know what you can do in battle. The three worlds together, gods and Asuras and men, would not dare to face you, and this is one Duryodhana. Kill him as Purandara killed Vritra.
Krishna kept talking, because he could see that Arjuna’s whole mind was on Jayadratha and the falling sun, and the man in front of them was a different opportunity, one the war might never offer again. This Duryodhana tried to bring evil on all of you, he said. He cheated Yudhishthira at dice. You were all without sin, and this sinful prince has done wrong after wrong to your brother the king. Resolve on battle, Partha, and kill this wicked man without scruple, this man who is always angry and always cruel, who is greed itself in a body. Remember the kingdom taken by fraud, the years in the forest, the wrongs done to Krishna your wife, and put forth your strength. It is good fortune that he stands inside your arrows’ range, good fortune that he stands before you trying to stop you, good fortune that today he learns he will have to fight you, good fortune that every purpose of yours, even the ones you have not yet formed, is about to bear fruit. So kill this disgrace of his line the way Indra killed the Asura Jambha in the war of the gods. With him dead you can cut straight through this leaderless army. Cut the root of these wicked men. Let the closing bath of this feud be taken today.
Arjuna’s answer was short. So be it, he said. That is what I should do. Forget everything else and drive to where Duryodhana is. I will put forth my strength and take the head of that wretch who has enjoyed our kingdom for so long without a thorn in his side. Shall I not avenge, Keshava, the insult done to Draupadi, who never deserved it, when she was dragged by the hair? And the two Krishnas, glad now, urged the white horses toward the king. What Sanjaya reported next to Dhritarashtra he reported with something like respect. Your son, he said, came into the presence of Partha and Krishna and felt no fear, though everything about the moment was made to cause fear. The Kshatriyas on your side praised him loudly for it, because he was going forward to face Arjuna and Hrishikesha in order to hold them. When the king was seen in the fight, the whole Kuru army raised one great shout, and under that shout your son pressed his enemy hard and blocked his path. Held in check by your son with his bow, the son of Kunti filled with rage, and Duryodhana, that chastiser of foes, grew just as angry at Partha. Fierce-looking Kshatriyas on every side turned to watch the two of them. And your son, seeing Partha and Vasudeva both furious, smiled and challenged them. The smile did something to Krishna. The Dasharha filled with joy, and Dhananjaya grew cheerful too, and roaring aloud the two of them blew their great conches.
The joy on those two faces was the thing the Kauravas could not bear to see. Every man on your side gave up hope for your son’s life, Sanjaya said, and many on the enemy’s side grieved as well, and all of them looked at Duryodhana as a libation already poured into the mouth of the fire. Your warriors, watching Krishna and the Pandava so glad, cried out in fear, The king is slain, the king is slain. Duryodhana heard it. Let your fears go, he told them. I will send the two Krishnas to the land of the dead. Having said that to all his men, and expecting success, he turned on Partha in anger. If you were begotten by Pandu, he said, then use on me, now, without delay, every weapon you have, divine and earthly, and every weapon of both kinds that Keshava has. I want to see your manliness. They speak of many feats you have done out of our sight. Show me those feats that have won the praise of so many heroes.
A key to reading this (words): “The two Krishnas” is the epic’s set phrase for Vasudeva Krishna and Arjuna together, since Krishna is also one of Arjuna’s names; the Draupadi Krishna names in his speech is the wife, who is also called Krishna for her dark color. The “closing bath” is the avabhritha, the bath that ends a sacrifice and completes it; Krishna is treating the feud as a rite whose last act is Duryodhana’s death. Jambha and Vritra are Asuras killed by Indra, called Purandara. Up to this moment Arjuna’s single target is Jayadratha, and the sun is already past noon; the chance Krishna is pointing to is a different one, the king himself inside arrow range.
The gist: Deep inside the Kuru host, Krishna points out Duryodhana and urges Arjuna to kill him now: the root of every wrong, the dice, the exile, Draupadi’s hair. Arjuna agrees. Duryodhana stands his ground without fear, his army cheers him, and then the two Krishnas laugh and blow their conches, and the Kauravas take their king for dead. Duryodhana steadies them and throws his challenge at Arjuna: use every weapon you and Keshava own, and show me the feats I have only heard about.
Twenty-eight arrows that slid off: Drona’s mantra-bound armor, Krishna’s curiosity, and Arjuna’s remedy, which is to shoot wherever the armor is not
Duryodhana struck first, and struck well. Three arrows of great force, the kind that go for the vitals, went into Arjuna; four more went into his four horses; ten struck Vasudeva in the middle of the chest, and a broad-headed shaft cut the whip out of Krishna’s hand and dropped it on the ground. Partha, cool, not wasting a moment, answered with fourteen stone-whetted, beautifully feathered arrows. Every one of them glanced off Duryodhana’s armor. Seeing that, he sent nine more and then five, keen-pointed, and those too were turned by the armor. Twenty-eight arrows, useless. It was Krishna who spoke, and what he said was a question, put with the wide-eyed astonishment of a man who has seen everything and is now seeing something new. I am looking at a sight I have never seen before, he said, like the hills getting up and walking. Your arrows, Partha, are failing. Bull of the Bharatas, has Gandiva lost its power? Has the strength of your grip and the might of your arms grown less than they were? Is this not to be your last meeting with Duryodhana? Tell me, Partha, I am asking you. I have been amazed to watch every one of your shafts fall toward Duryodhana’s chariot and do nothing. What misfortune is this, that these terrible arrows of yours, which carry the force of the thunderbolt and always go through the bodies of enemies, are producing no effect at all?
Arjuna did not rise to it, because he had already understood. I think, Krishna, he said, that this armor was put on Duryodhana’s body by Drona. Tied on the way it has been tied, it is impenetrable to my weapons. The might of the three worlds lives in this armor. Only Drona knows the art, and I learned it from that best of men. My weapons cannot pierce it; Maghavat himself could not pierce it with his thunderbolt. You know all this, Krishna, so why are you trying to confuse me? Whatever happened in the three worlds, whatever exists now, whatever is in the womb of the future, all of it is known to you, and no one, slayer of Madhu, knows it better. Then the tone shifted, because Arjuna had also understood something about the man in front of him. Duryodhana, wrapped by Drona in this armor, is standing in the fight without fear, he said. But what a man wearing such armor ought to do, that he does not know, Madhava. He wears it the way a woman would. Now watch the strength of my arms and of my bow. Protected as he is, I will still beat the Kuru prince. The chief of the gods gave this blazing armor to Angiras; from Angiras it passed to Brihaspati, and from Brihaspati to Purandara, and the lord of the gods gave it to me once more, along with the mantras for putting it on. Even if this armor were divine, even if Brahma himself had made it, that wretch Duryodhana will not be saved by it once my arrows strike.
So he took some arrows and charged them with mantras, and began to draw them on the string, and while he was still drawing them, from a distance, the son of Drona cut them off with a weapon capable of baffling every weapon. Arjuna, watching Ashvatthama do it, was astonished, and he said something to Krishna that was almost an admission. I cannot use this weapon twice, Janardana, he said. If I do, it will kill me and my own troops. Duryodhana used the pause. He put nine arrows like venomous snakes into each of the two Krishnas, and then poured showers of shafts on both of them, and the Kuru warriors, watching their king shoot, were filled with joy and beat their instruments and roared like lions. Partha, furious now, licked the corners of his mouth. He ran his eyes over his enemy’s body and found no part of it that the impenetrable armor did not cover. Then he began shooting at everything that the armor did not cover. With sharp arrows, each one like Death, he killed Duryodhana’s horses, then the two charioteers who rode at the wheels. He cut Duryodhana’s bow, and the leather guard on his fingers. Then Savyasachin began taking the chariot itself apart in pieces, and with two keen arrows left the king with no chariot at all. And then Arjuna put an arrow through each of Duryodhana’s palms.
The rescue came the way such rescues come, as a wall. Seeing their great bowman pierced by Dhananjaya’s shafts and in deep distress, warriors rushed to the spot in thousands of chariots, with well-equipped elephants and horses and great bodies of foot soldiers, all of them enraged, and the press around the two chariots grew so thick that neither could be seen. Arjuna began to slaughter that host with the might of his weapons. Chariot warriors and elephants fell by the hundreds, limbs cut away; killed or being killed, they never reached the excellent chariot. His car stood a full two miles from the besieging force on every side, and it did not move. Then the Vrishni hero, without losing a moment, said: draw your bow, quickly and with all your strength, for I am going to blow my conch. Arjuna drew Gandiva with great force and began to kill, shooting dense showers and making a loud noise with his fingers on the string, and Keshava, his face covered in dust, blew Panchajanya as hard and as loud as he could. Under the blare of that conch and the twang of that bow, the Kuru warriors, strong and weak alike, fell to the ground. The chariot, freed from the press, shone like a cloud driven by the wind. And now Jayadratha’s protectors, seeing Partha suddenly in front of them, filled with rage; those mighty bowmen shouted, and the earth filled with their shouting, the whiz of their arrows mixed with other fierce sounds and the loud blare of their conches, and those high-souled warriors roared like lions. Hearing that uproar from your troops, Vasudeva and Dhananjaya blew their conches again, and the whole earth, with her mountains and seas and islands and the regions below, seemed to fill with the sound; it filled every direction and came back as an echo from both armies. Your chariot warriors, seeing Krishna and Dhananjaya, were badly frightened. But they recovered quickly and set to work, and the great warriors of your host, in their mail, rushed at the two Krishnas, those two highly blessed ones. It was a wonderful sight, Sanjaya said.
A key to reading this (the armor and the remedy): This is the armor Drona bound on Duryodhana with mantras a short while earlier, when he sent the king after Arjuna; Arjuna says he learned the same art from Drona and gives its lineage, from Indra to Angiras, to Brihaspati, back to Indra, and to himself. His mantra-charged arrows are cut off at a distance by Ashvatthama, and Arjuna says that weapon cannot be used twice, so his remedy is everything the armor does not cover: horses, the two charioteers who rode by the rear wheels, the bow, the finger guard, the chariot, and finally Duryodhana’s two palms. “Maghavat” and “Purandara” are Indra. The distance of two miles is Ganguli’s rendering.
The gist: Duryodhana strikes first, and twenty-eight of Arjuna’s arrows slide off him. Krishna asks, with theatrical wonder, whether Gandiva has lost its power; Arjuna answers that this is Drona’s mantra-bound armor, proof even against Indra’s thunderbolt, and that Duryodhana is wearing it like a woman, without knowing how a man in armor fights. When Ashvatthama cuts his charged arrows out of the air, Arjuna gives up on the armor and shoots everything around it: horses, charioteers, bow, chariot, and both of the king’s hands. The rescuing wall of men is knocked flat by Gandiva’s twang and Panchajanya’s blast, and then Jayadratha’s guards are in front of him.
A ring of eight great chariot warriors and ten standards: Devadatta and Panchajanya answer the Kuru conches, and Sanjaya paints every banner on the field
The moment your warriors saw those two, Sanjaya said, the foremost men of the Vrishni-Andhaka and Kuru lines, they wasted no time; each of them strove to be first at them, wanting their deaths, and Vijaya went at them in return. They came on great chariots, decked in gold, cased in tiger skins, deep-rattling, blazing like fire, lighting the ten directions as they came, with bows whose backs were plated in gold and could not be looked at for their glare, shouting, drawn by angry horses. Bhurishravas and Shala, Karna and Vrishasena, Jayadratha and Kripa, Shalya the ruler of the Madras, and that foremost of chariot warriors, the son of Drona: eight great warriors, seeming to devour the sky, their splendid cars cased in tiger skin and hung with golden moons, lit the ten directions. In mail, in rage, on chariots whose rattle was the roar of massed clouds, they covered Arjuna from every side with a shower of sharp arrows. The horses that bore them were beautiful animals of the best breeds and great speed, and they lit the directions as they ran; the teams were from many countries and of many kinds, some bred in the mountains, some on the rivers, some in the land of the Sindhus. Many of the foremost Kuru chariot warriors, wanting to rescue your son quickly, rushed toward Dhananjaya’s car from every direction, and taking up their conches they blew them and filled the sky and the earth with her seas.
Then the two who were foremost even among the gods, Vasudeva and Dhananjaya, blew the two finest conches on earth. The son of Kunti blew Devadatta and Keshava blew Panchajanya. The blast of Devadatta from Dhananjaya filled the earth, the sky, and the ten directions, and Panchajanya from Vasudeva overpowered every other sound and filled sky and earth. And while that awful, fierce noise went on, a noise that put fear into the timid and cheer into the brave, while drums and jharjharas and cymbals and mridangas were beaten by the thousand, the great chariot warriors invited to the Kuru side, those great bowmen solicitous of Dhananjaya’s welfare in the way that enemies are, kings from many realms with their own troops behind them, unable to bear the blare of Arjuna’s and Krishna’s conches, blew their own great conches in rage, wanting to answer blast with blast. The Kuru army, driven forward by that din of conches, had its chariot warriors and elephants and horses filled with anxiety and fear. It looked, my lord, as if every man in it were ill. That shaken Kuru host, ringing with the conches of brave men, was like the sky itself sounding with thunder and falling down in some convulsion of nature, and the uproar went out into the ten directions and frightened the army the way the events at the end of a yuga frighten every living thing. Then Duryodhana and the eight great warriors appointed to protect Jayadratha all closed around the son of Pandu.
What followed was arithmetic, and Sanjaya gave it all. The son of Drona struck Vasudeva with seventy-three arrows, Arjuna himself with three broad-headed shafts, his standard and four horses with five more. Seeing Janardana pierced, Arjuna in a fury struck Ashvatthama with a hundred. Then he pierced Karna with ten and Vrishasena with three, and with arrows fixed on the string he cut Shalya’s bow at the grip. Shalya took another bow and pierced the son of Pandu. Bhurishravas pierced him with three stone-whetted, gold-winged arrows, Karna with thirty-two, Vrishasena with seven, Jayadratha with seventy-three, Kripa with ten, the ruler of the Madras with ten, the son of Drona with sixty and then Partha with five more and Vasudeva with twenty. Then that tiger among men, white-horsed, with Krishna for his driver, showing the lightness of his hand, pierced every one of them in return: Karna with a dozen, Vrishasena with three, and Shalya’s bow cut once more at the grip; Somadatta’s son with three, Shalya with ten, Kripa with twenty-five, the ruler of the Sindhus with a hundred, Drona’s son with seventy. Bhurishravas, enraged, cut the goad out of Krishna’s hand and struck Arjuna with twenty-three shafts. And Dhananjaya of the white horses, in rage, mangled those enemies with hundreds upon hundreds of arrows, like a great storm tearing masses of cloud.
Here the blind king interrupted, and what he asked for was color. Describe to me, Sanjaya, he said, the standards of great beauty, both Partha’s and our own warriors’ in that battle. And Sanjaya, who had just been counting arrows, turned painter. Hear of the standards of those high-souled men, he said, their forms and their names. On the chariots of those foremost warriors stood standards that shone like the flames of a fire, made of gold or decked with gold or hung with strings of gold, each one like the golden mountain Meru, and around every standard were fastened excellent banners of many colors, so that the standards were beautiful past telling; the banners moved in the wind like fair women dancing in the middle of an arena, and with the splendor of the rainbow they floated over the chariots and adorned them. Dhananjaya’s standard carried the ape of fierce face and lion’s tail, and it seemed to breathe fear into that battle; that standard of the wielder of Gandiva, bearing the foremost of apes and hung with many banners, frightened the Kuru host. The standard-top of Drona’s son, which we saw, was a lion’s tail with the blaze of the rising sun, gold-decked, floating in the breeze, rainbow-colored, standing high and filling the foremost Kuru warriors with joy. Adhiratha’s son carried the sign of an elephant rope made of gold, and in battle it seemed to fill the whole sky; the gold-and-garland banner tied to Karna’s standard, shaken by the wind, seemed to dance on his chariot. The preceptor of the Pandavas, that austere Brahmana Kripa, son of Gotama, had for his sign an excellent bull, and with that bull the high-souled man shone as the destroyer of the three cities shines with his. Vrishasena had a golden peacock set with jewels and gems, standing on his standard as if crowing, always adorning the van of the army, so that his chariot shone like the chariot of Skanda with its peacock. Shalya, ruler of the Madras, carried an unrivaled and beautiful plowshare of gold that looked like a flame of fire, and on his standard-top we saw an image like the goddess who presides over grain, beautiful, producing every seed. A silver boar adorned the standard-top of the ruler of the Sindhus, decked with golden chains, with the splendor of white crystal, and with that silver sign the ruler of the Sindhus shone as Surya once shone in the war of the gods and Asuras. The standard of Somadatta’s son, devoted to sacrifices, carried the sacrificial stake, and it shone like the sun or the moon; that golden stake looked like the tall stake set up at the foremost of sacrifices, the Rajasuya. Shala’s standard bore a huge silver elephant with golden peacocks all around it, and it adorned your troops the way the huge white elephant adorns the host of the king of the gods. And on the gold-decked standard of King Duryodhana was an elephant adorned with gems, tinkling with a hundred bells, standing on that hero’s excellent chariot, and your son, that bull among the Kurus, shone with that tall standard in the fight. Those nine excellent standards stood up among your divisions. The tenth seen there was Arjuna’s, with its huge ape, and with it Arjuna shone like Himavat with a fire blazing on its summit.
Then the fight resumed with all of them at once. Many great warriors, all chastisers of foes, quickly took up their beautiful, bright, large bows against Arjuna, and Partha, the achiever of celestial feats, took up his foe-destroying Gandiva, and this, Sanjaya told the king, was the consequence of your evil policy. Many royal warriors were killed in that battle through your fault; rulers of men had come from different realms at your sons’ invitation, and with them many horses and many elephants perished. Then those great chariot warriors with Duryodhana at their head on the one side, and that bull among the Pandavas on the other, roared aloud and began. The feat that Kunti’s son achieved there, with Krishna for his charioteer, was a great wonder, because alone he faced all those warriors united and did not flinch. Stretching Gandiva, wanting to beat all those tigers among men so that he could kill the ruler of the Sindhus, that mighty-armed hero shone. With arrows shot by the thousand, that tiger among men, that scorcher of foes, made every one of those warriors invisible under his showers; and they, those great warriors, from every side, with their clouds of shafts, made Partha invisible in return. Seeing that bull of Kuru’s race covered by the arrows of those lions among men, your troops raised a great shout.
A key to reading this (counting the standards): Sanjaya lists nine Kaurava standards and Arjuna’s as the tenth: Ashvatthama (a lion’s tail), Karna (a golden elephant rope), Kripa (a bull), Vrishasena (a peacock), Shalya (a golden plowshare with the image of the grain goddess), Jayadratha (a silver boar), Bhurishravas (the sacrificial stake), Shala (a silver elephant ringed with golden peacocks), and Duryodhana (a jeweled elephant with a hundred bells). Ganguli’s English prints the silver-elephant standard under Shalya’s name as well, but Shalya’s plowshare has already been counted and Shala is one of the eight warriors named in the ring, so that standard is Shala’s. “The destroyer of the three cities” is Shiva, whose mount is the bull; Skanda, the general of the gods, rides a peacock. Vijaya and Phalguna are names of Arjuna. Jharjharas and mridangas are drums.
The gist: To save Duryodhana, the eight great warriors assigned to guard Jayadratha, Bhurishravas, Shala, Karna, Vrishasena, Jayadratha, Kripa, Shalya and Ashvatthama, close around Arjuna on their gold-and-tiger-skin chariots. In the contest of conches, Devadatta and Panchajanya leave the Kuru army looking sick, and the arrow count runs both ways, seventy-three and a hundred, thirty-two and seventy. At Dhritarashtra’s request Sanjaya stops to paint ten standards, nine Kaurava and one ape banner, and then the moment comes when Arjuna faces all of them alone and the arrows from both sides hide each side from the other.
Drona becomes the stake: Yudhishthira’s eight-belled dart, the king carried off on Sahadeva’s chariot, and the head of Kshemadhurti
The blind king could not leave Arjuna alone for long, but he could not follow only Arjuna either, because the day had two fronts and the second one was where his own army stood. Once Arjuna had the ruler of the Sindhus within sight, Dhritarashtra asked, what did the Panchalas do, attacked as they were by Bharadvaja’s son, when they met the Kurus? Sanjaya’s answer began with an image the king would not have liked. In the afternoon of that day, in the battle between the Panchalas and the Kurus, Drona himself became the stake, the thing each side was fighting to win or to lose. The Panchalas wanted him dead, and they shouted for joy as they shot, and their arrows came in sheets. The encounter, Sanjaya said, was fierce and awful and past all wonder, like the war of the gods and the Asuras in the old days. All the Panchalas, with the Pandavas beside them, had Drona’s chariot within reach now, and they used every great weapon they owned to cut through his array. Chariots shook the earth under them as they rolled, arrows pouring from them, and they moved toward Drona’s car without hurry, the way men move when they mean to arrive. Then the pairings formed, and Sanjaya named them, because the names were the battle. Brihatkshatra, the great chariot warrior of the Kaikeyas, went at Drona scattering arrows that struck like thunder, and the famous Kshemadhurti swung across to meet him, shooting by the thousand. Seeing that, Dhrishtaketu, the bull of the Chedis, hurled himself at Kshemadhurti like Mahendra at the Asura Shambara, and Viradhanvan the great bowman came at speed to meet Dhrishtaketu as he charged with his mouth open like the Destroyer. King Yudhishthira, standing at the head of his division and hungry for victory, was held by Drona himself. Vikarna, the king’s own son, went to meet Nakula as he charged. Durmukha buried the advancing Sahadeva under thousands of fast arrows. The heroic Vyaghradatta stood against Satyaki, tiger among men, and made him shudder again and again with sharp, keen-pointed shafts. Somadatta’s son took on the five sons of Draupadi, great chariot warriors all, shooting mighty arrows in anger. And Rishyashringa’s fierce son, the Rakshasa Alambusha, of a face that frightened men, stood against Bhimasena as he came on full of rage; that fight between a man and a Rakshasa, the king was told, looked like the old fight between Rama and Ravana.
The duel at the center was the one that mattered, because Drona’s vow was to take the king alive, and here was the king. Yudhishthira, chief of the Bharatas, struck Drona with ninety straight arrows in every vital part. Drona, angered by Kunti’s famous son, struck him back with twenty-five in the middle of the chest, and then, with every bowman watching, hit him again with twenty, together with his horses and his charioteer and his standard. The righteous son of Pandu, showing a lightness of hand nobody had expected of him, cut down Drona’s arrows with his own showers. Then Drona, the great bowman, in a fury, cut the bow of the high-souled king, and while Yudhishthira stood bowless the great chariot warrior covered him with thousands of shafts. The king vanished inside them. Everyone who saw it thought Yudhishthira was dead, and some thought he had run from Drona, and many cried out that the high-souled Brahmana had killed the king. What the king actually did was lay aside the broken bow, take up another, an excellent bright bow and a tougher one, and cut down every one of the thousands of arrows Drona had shot. It seemed, Sanjaya said, past all wonder. And then Yudhishthira, his eyes red with wrath, took up a dart that could split a mountain. It had a golden staff and a terrible look and eight bells hung on it, and when the mighty Yudhishthira raised it he roared, and the roar put fear into every living thing. Every creature that saw the dart lifted in the hands of the king of dharma said, as if with one voice, good be to Drona. The dart left the king’s arms like a snake just out of its slough and went toward Drona lighting up the sky and every direction, main and lesser, like a she-snake with a mouth of fire. Drona, the foremost of all men who understood weapons, saw it coming and invoked the weapon called Brahma. The Brahma weapon ground the dreadful dart to dust and then turned and went toward the chariot of Pandu’s illustrious son, and Yudhishthira of great wisdom met it with a Brahma weapon of his own and quenched it. Then he pierced Drona with five straight arrows and, with a razor-headed shaft, cut Drona’s great bow.
The exchange went to maces after that, which is how the epic tells you two men are very close together. Drona, the grinder of Kshatriyas, threw the broken bow aside and hurled a mace with great force at the son of Dharma; Yudhishthira, seeing it coming, took up a mace of his own in a rage, and the two maces, both thrown hard, met in mid-air, struck sparks of fire off each other, and fell to the ground. Then Drona, in fury, killed Yudhishthira’s horses with four excellent keen-pointed arrows. With one broad-headed arrow he cut the king’s bow, which had stood like a pole raised in honor of Indra. With another he cut the king’s standard, and with three he wounded the Pandava himself. King Yudhishthira jumped down fast from the horseless chariot and stood there weaponless with his arms raised. Drona saw him without a chariot and, more to the point, without a weapon, and the sight stunned his enemies, or rather the whole army. Holding to his vow and quick of hand, Drona shot showers of sharp arrows and rushed at the king like a furious lion at a deer. A cry of oh and alas went up from the Pandava army as they saw the slayer of foes charging their king, and many shouted that Bharadvaja’s son had killed him, and loud wailing of that kind was heard through the Pandava troops. What happened instead was quieter. Kunti’s son Yudhishthira climbed onto Sahadeva’s chariot and was carried off the field by fast horses. Drona’s vow needed the king in his hands, and the king had been in front of him with his arms up, and he had not been fast enough.
Elsewhere the pairings resolved, one after another, and Sanjaya gave the king each of them with its count. Kshemadhurti pierced the advancing Brihatkshatra, the valiant prince of the Kaikeyas, with many arrows in the chest, and Brihatkshatra, who wanted to cut through Drona’s division, struck him back with ninety straight shafts. Kshemadhurti, in a rage, cut the Kaikeya prince’s bow with a sharp, well-tempered, broad-headed arrow and then pierced that foremost of bowmen with a keen straight one. Brihatkshatra took up another bow and, smiling at his enemy, quickly left the great chariot warrior Kshemadhurti without horses or driver or chariot, and with one more well-tempered broad-headed arrow he cut his royal opponent’s head, blazing with its pair of earrings, from the trunk. The head, with only its locks and its diadem on it, fell suddenly to the earth and shone like a light fallen out of the sky. Having killed his man, the mighty chariot warrior Brihatkshatra was full of joy and fell on Dhritarashtra’s troops with great force for the sake of the Parthas. The great bowman Viradhanvan, full of prowess, held Dhrishtaketu as he advanced against Drona; the two heroes, with arrows for fangs and both very quick, struck each other with many thousands of arrows and fought like two leaders of elephant herds deep in the woods, like two furious tigers in a mountain cave, each wanting the other dead. That combat was exceedingly fierce, worth watching and highly wonderful, and the Siddhas and the Charanas in great numbers watched it with wonder in their eyes. Then Viradhanvan laughed and in anger cut Dhrishtaketu’s bow in two with broad-headed arrows. The ruler of the Chedis dropped the broken bow and took up a fierce dart of iron with a golden staff, bent it with his hands toward Viradhanvan’s chariot, and threw it carefully and with great force. Struck hard by that hero-killing dart, his heart pierced through, Viradhanvan fell quickly from his chariot to the earth, and with the fall of that mighty chariot warrior of the Trigartas, the king’s army was broken by the Pandavas.
Durmukha, Dhritarashtra’s son, sent sixty arrows at Sahadeva and shouted loud in that battle, challenging Pandu’s son. Madri’s son, in a rage, pierced Durmukha with many keen arrows, smiling as he did it, brother striking brother. Seeing the mighty Durmukha fight furiously, Sahadeva struck him again with nine shafts, cut his standard with a broad-headed arrow, and brought down his four horses with four more. With another well-tempered, sharp, broad-headed arrow he cut from its trunk the head of Durmukha’s charioteer, which shone with a pair of earrings; with a razor-headed arrow he cut Durmukha’s large bow, and he pierced Durmukha himself with five. Durmukha jumped fearlessly from the horseless chariot and climbed onto the chariot of Niramitra, and Sahadeva, slayer of hostile heroes, in a rage killed Niramitra in the middle of his division with one broad-headed arrow. Prince Niramitra, the son of the ruler of the Trigartas, fell from his chariot and left the king’s army in great grief, and the mighty-armed Sahadeva, having killed him, looked as resplendent as Rama, the son of Dasharatha, after he killed the mighty Rakshasa Khara. Cries of oh and alas went up among the Trigarta warriors when they saw the mighty chariot warrior Niramitra dead. Nakula, in a moment, defeated Vikarna of the large eyes, Dhritarashtra’s son, and this seemed highly wonderful. Vyaghradatta, with straight arrows, made Satyaki invisible in the middle of his division, horses and driver and standard and all; the brave grandson of Shini shook off those arrows with great lightness of hand and brought Vyaghradatta down with his own, horses and driver and standard together. With the fall of that prince of the Magadhas, the Magadhas, struggling hard, rushed at Yuyudhana from every side, scattering shafts and lances by the thousand, sharp arrows and spears and mallets and thick clubs, and fought the invincible hero of the Satvata race with everything they had. Satyaki, of great might, invincible, a bull among men, defeated them all with the greatest ease, laughing while he did it. The Magadhas were nearly wiped out; a small remnant fled the field. Seeing that, the king’s army, already hurt by Yuyudhana’s arrows, broke, and that foremost of Madhu’s race, having slaughtered the troops, stood there shaking his bow and looked resplendent. Nobody came near him to fight; the long-armed hero had frightened them all. So Drona, rolling his eyes in rage, went himself, at speed, toward Satyaki, whose feats could not be undone.
A key to reading this (who fights for whom): Brihatkshatra is a prince of the Kaikeyas on the Pandava side; Kshemadhurti, Viradhanvan of the Trigartas, and Vyaghradatta of Magadha are kings fighting for Duryodhana. Dhrishtaketu is the ruler of the Chedis, Shishupala’s son and a Pandava ally. Vikarna and Durmukha are sons of Dhritarashtra, which is why Sanjaya says of Sahadeva and Durmukha that brother struck brother; they are cousins. Alambusha is the Rakshasa son of Rishyashringa and the brother of Baka, whose story fills the next scene. Drona’s vow, given to Duryodhana at the start of this book, was to seize Yudhishthira alive, which is why he runs at a disarmed king instead of killing him and why the king’s escape on Sahadeva’s chariot is a defeat for Drona and a relief for everyone else. The eight-belled dart, the Brahma weapon on both sides, and the maces meeting in mid-air are all in Sanjaya’s report; the epic’s duels escalate from arrows to darts to maces as the distance closes.
The gist: While Arjuna closes on Jayadratha, the other front becomes a fight over Drona himself. Yudhishthira duels the preceptor through arrows, an eight-belled dart, two Brahma weapons and two maces, and ends up standing without chariot or weapon with his arms raised, until Sahadeva’s chariot carries him off the field. Around them the day’s pairings resolve: Brihatkshatra takes Kshemadhurti’s head, Dhrishtaketu kills Viradhanvan with a dart, Sahadeva kills Niramitra, Nakula beats Vikarna, and Satyaki kills Vyaghradatta and all but wipes out the Magadhas, so that Drona has to go after Satyaki himself.
Draupadi’s five sons close on Somadatta’s son, Baka’s brother Alambusha comes for Bhima, and Ghatotkacha breaks him on the ground like a clay pot on a rock
The five sons of Draupadi fought as one animal with five heads, and Sanjaya’s account of their fight with the son of Somadatta reads like the account of a pack. Somadatta’s illustrious son pierced each of those great bowmen with five arrows, and then with seven more, and the five, badly hurt by that fierce warrior, were stunned for a while and did not know what to do. Then Shatanika, Nakula’s son, crusher of foes, put two arrows into that bull among men and roared with joy, and the other brothers, struggling hard, quickly pierced the angry son of Somadatta with three straight shafts each. He answered with five arrows, one for each chest. Pierced by that high-souled warrior, the five brothers surrounded him on every side and began to pierce him deep. Arjuna’s son, in a rage, sent the four horses of Saumadatti to the region of Yama with keen shafts. Bhimasena’s son cut Somadatta’s son’s bow and shouted and pierced him with many sharp arrows. Yudhishthira’s son cut his standard and dropped it on the earth, and Nakula’s son knocked the charioteer out of his place on the car. Then Sahadeva’s son, judging that the enemy was on the point of leaving the field because of what his brothers had done, took the head of that illustrious warrior with a razor-headed arrow. The head, with its earrings of gold, fell on the earth and adorned the field like the blazing sun that rises at the end of the Yuga, and the king’s troops, seeing the head of Somadatta’s high-souled son on the ground, were overcome by fear and ran in every direction.
The fight that had been announced in the last scene, the man against the Rakshasa, now took its turn, and Sanjaya’s comparison for it was Indrajit against Lakshmana. The Rakshasa Alambusha, in a rage, fought the mighty Bhimasena like Ravana’s son against Rama’s brother, and every creature that saw a Rakshasa and a human warrior locked together felt both joy and wonder. Bhima laughed and pierced Rishyashringa’s angry son with nine keen shafts, and the Rakshasa, pierced, gave an awful shout and rushed at Bhima with all his followers. He put five straight arrows into Bhima and destroyed, in a moment, thirty chariots that had been supporting him, and then four hundred more, and pierced Bhimasena himself with winged arrows, and Bhima, deeply hurt, sat down on the terrace of his car in a swoon. When the son of the Wind god came back to himself, he was in a rage. He drew his excellent and terrible bow, the one built to take a great strain, and hurt Alambusha in every part of his body with keen shafts, until the Rakshasa, who looked like a huge mass of antimony, shone like a kinshuka tree in flower. And while the arrows from Bhima’s bow struck him, the Rakshasa remembered something: the killing of his brother Baka by this same illustrious Pandava, years before, in a town called Ekachakra. He took on a terrible form and spoke to Bhima. Wait a little in this battle, Partha, he said. See today what I can do. Wicked-minded one, that foremost of Rakshasas, the mighty Baka, was my brother. It is true you killed him. But it happened out of my sight. Having said that, Alambusha made himself invisible and began to cover Bhimasena with a dense shower of arrows, and Bhima, when the Rakshasa vanished, covered the sky with straight shafts. Hurt by that, Alambusha came back to his chariot, and then went into the bowels of the earth, and then made himself small and shot suddenly into the sky. He took countless forms, now subtle, now huge and gross, roaring like the clouds and uttering all kinds of words and cries on every side. From the sky fell thousands of streams of arrows, and darts, and the spears called kunapas, and lances, and spiked maces, and short arrows, and scimitars and swords, and thunderbolts. That awful downpour killed the troops of Pandu’s son on the field; many of the Pandava army’s elephants died under it, and many horses and many foot soldiers, and a river ran there whose water was blood and whose eddies were chariots. Elephants were its crocodiles, the umbrellas of chariot warriors its swans, the flesh and marrow of animals its mud; the cut-off arms of men were its snakes, and Rakshasas and other eaters of flesh haunted it, and it carried away countless Chedis and Panchalas and Srinjayas. The Pandavas, watching him range so fearlessly and seeing what he could do, were filled with anxiety, and joy filled the hearts of the king’s troops, and among them loud and terrible music rose, the kind that makes the hair stand up. Pandu’s son could no more bear that uproar than a snake can bear the clap of human palms. His eyes red as copper, his glances consuming everything like fire, the son of the Wind god aimed the weapon called Tvashtri, like Tvashtri himself, and from it came thousands of arrows on every side, and under them the king’s troops were seen breaking everywhere. The weapon Bhimasena had shot broke the Rakshasa’s illusion and hurt the Rakshasa badly, and, struck in every part of his body, Alambusha left Bhimasena and fled toward Drona’s division. At the defeat of that prince of Rakshasas by the high-souled Bhima, the Pandavas made every point of the compass ring with their lion roars, and, full of joy, they honored the mighty son of Marut the way the Maruts honored Shakra after Prahlada’s defeat in battle.
Alambusha, having fled from Bhima, went ranging fearlessly through another part of the field, and it was there that the son of Hidimba came for him. Ghatotkacha rushed at him and pierced him with keen shafts, and the fight between those two lions among Rakshasas turned terrible at once, because both of them invoked illusions, as Shakra and Shambara had in the old days. Alambusha attacked Ghatotkacha in a rage; their meeting, the two foremost of Rakshasas, was like the old meeting of Rama and Ravana. Ghatotkacha pierced Alambusha in the middle of the chest with twenty long shafts and roared like a lion, again and again, and Alambusha, smiling, pierced Hidimba’s invincible son over and over and shouted for joy so loud that his shouts filled the whole sky. Then both of those mighty Rakshasas grew angry and fought with every power of illusion they had, and neither gained anything on the other. Each created a hundred illusions and stupefied the other with them. Every illusion Ghatotkacha, who was accomplished at them, displayed in that battle, Alambusha destroyed with a matching illusion of his own. Watching Alambusha, that master of illusions, fight like that, the Pandavas grew anxious and had him surrounded by many of their foremost chariot warriors. Bhimasena and the rest all rushed at him in rage; hemming him in on every side with countless chariots, they shrouded him with arrows from every direction, like men in a forest ringing an elephant with burning brands. He baffled that shower of weapons with the illusion of his own weapons and freed himself from the press of chariots like an elephant from a forest fire. Then he drew his terrible bow, whose twang was like the thunder of Indra, and pierced the son of the Wind god with twenty-five shafts, and Bhimasena’s son with five, and Yudhishthira with three, and Sahadeva with seven, and Nakula with seventy-three, and each of the five sons of Draupadi with five, and roared. Bhimasena answered with nine, Sahadeva with five, Yudhishthira with a hundred, Nakula with three. Hidimba’s son pierced him with five hundred, and Alambusha pierced him back with seventy and roared again, and at Ghatotkacha’s answering roar the earth shook with her mountains and forests and trees and waters. Deeply pierced on every side by those great bowmen and mighty chariot warriors, Alambusha pierced each of them back with five arrows. Then Hidimba’s son, in a rage, pierced the other angry Rakshasa with many shafts, and Alambusha, deeply wounded, quickly shot countless arrows with wings of gold, whetted on stone, perfectly straight, and all of them went into Ghatotkacha’s body like strong angry snakes entering a mountain summit. The Pandavas, anxious, and Ghatotkacha with them, sent clouds of keen arrows at him from every side, and Alambusha, struck like that by men who wanted victory, mortal as he was, did not know what to do.
What Ghatotkacha did then was the kind of thing his father did, and Sanjaya told it with the same relish. Seeing the state Alambusha was in, Bhimasena’s mighty son, who loved a fight, set his heart on killing him. He rushed at the chariot of the prince of Rakshasas, a chariot that looked like a burned mountain peak or a broken heap of antimony, and, blazing with wrath, he flew from his own chariot onto Alambusha’s and seized him. He lifted him off the car the way Garuda lifts a snake. Holding him up in his arms he whirled him round and round, and then he smashed him to pieces by hurling him down on the earth, the way a man breaks an earthen pot into fragments by throwing it against a rock. Strong and quick and full of prowess, inflamed with battle wrath, the son of Bhimasena put fear into every soldier on the field. With every limb broken and his bones in fragments, the frightful Rakshasa Alambusha, killed like that by the heroic Ghatotkacha, looked like a tall shala tree uprooted and broken by the wind. At the killing of that wanderer of the night the Parthas were very cheerful; they roared like lions and waved their garments. The king’s brave warriors, seeing that mighty prince of Rakshasas lying like a crushed mountain, cried oh and alas, and people full of curiosity went to look at the Rakshasa lying helpless on the earth like a piece of charcoal that could no longer burn. Then Ghatotkacha, that foremost of mighty beings, having killed his enemy, gave a loud shout like Vasava after killing the Asura Vala, and his fathers and his relatives praised him for a feat that was exceedingly hard to do. Having brought Alambusha down like an alambusha fruit, he rejoiced with his friends, and a great noise of conches and of arrows of every kind rose in the Pandava army, and the Kauravas, hearing it, shouted back, and the whole earth filled with the echoes.
A key to reading this (names and relations): Somadatta’s son here is left unnamed by Sanjaya, who calls him only Saumadatti; Bhurishravas and Bhuri, the other sons of Somadatta, belong to later scenes. Draupadi’s five sons are one by each Pandava: Prativindhya (Yudhishthira), Sutasoma (Bhima), Shrutakarma (Arjuna), Shatanika (Nakula), Shrutasena (Sahadeva); Sanjaya names them by their fathers, and this Shatanika, Nakula’s son, is a different man from Virata’s brother of the same name. Alambusha is the son of Rishyashringa and the brother of Baka, the Rakshasa Bhima killed at Ekachakra before the Pandavas ever came to Indraprastha, in the Adi Parva; Ghatotkacha is Bhima’s son by the Rakshasi Hidimba, so the last duel is Rakshasa against Rakshasa. A kunapa is a spear. The Tvashtri weapon, the gift of the divine artificer Tvashtri, produces thousands of arrows at once. “Like an alambusha fruit” is Vyasa’s play on the name; alambusha is also the name of a fruit.
The gist: Draupadi’s five sons strip Somadatta’s son of horses, bow, standard and charioteer between them, and Sahadeva’s son takes his head. Then Alambusha, Baka’s brother, demands his brother’s blood of Bhima, vanishes, goes underground, rains weapons from the sky until a river of blood runs across the field, and is broken only when Bhima’s Tvashtri weapon tears his illusion apart and sends him running toward Drona. There Ghatotkacha meets him, illusion for illusion and arrow count for arrow count, until he leaps onto the Rakshasa’s chariot, lifts him like Garuda lifting a snake, and smashes him on the ground like a clay pot against a rock.
Panchajanya can be heard, and Gandiva cannot: Satyaki in front of Drona, and Yudhishthira’s plea that he go after Arjuna
The blind king wanted the next thing. Tell me, Sanjaya, he said, how Yuyudhana rushed at the son of Bharadvaja in battle; I feel a great curiosity to hear it. And Sanjaya gave it to him in the order in which it had happened, which is the only mercy a witness can offer. Drona, seeing his army cut down by Yuyudhana, went himself at that warrior of unbaffled prowess, the one men also call Satyaki. Satyaki met the great chariot warrior with twenty-five small arrows as he came. Drona, aiming with deliberation, put five whetted, gold-winged arrows into Yuyudhana, and those arrows went through the hard armor, drank his blood, and entered the earth like hissing snakes. The long-armed Satyaki, inflamed like an elephant struck with the hook, sent fifty long arrows at Drona that looked like tongues of fire, and Drona, pierced, answered with careful exertion and many arrows, and then, filled with rage, afflicted that hero of the Satvata race with straight shafts until, Sanjaya said, Satyaki did not know what to do. His face went cheerless as he watched the son of Bharadvaja shoot without pause. Seeing him in that state, your sons and your troops roared with joy, again and again, the way men roar when the thing they feared most has begun to break.
The roar reached Yudhishthira, and so did the sight of the Vrishni hero pinned under that shower. The king spoke to all his soldiers at once. That foremost of the Vrishnis, brave Satyaki, whose prowess no one has ever baffled, is about to be swallowed by Drona as the sun is swallowed by Rahu. Go, rush to where Satyaki is fighting. Then to Dhrishtadyumna of the Panchalas: rush at Drona with speed. Why do you linger, son of Prishata? Do you not see the danger that has already risen for us from Drona? He is a great bowman; he is playing with Yuyudhana the way a boy plays with a bird on a string. All of you, with Bhimasena at your head, go where Satyaki’s chariot is. I will follow behind with my troops. Rescue Satyaki, who is already inside the jaws of the Destroyer. And the king went, with all his forces, toward Drona for Yuyudhana’s sake. The uproar the Pandavas and the Srinjayas made there, all of them fighting Drona alone, was tremendous. Coming at him together they covered the son of Bharadvaja with showers of keen arrows feathered with kanka and peacock plumes. Drona received all of those heroes smiling, the way a householder receives guests who have arrived of their own accord, with a seat and water, and with the arrows from his bow those heroes were gratified as guests are gratified by the hospitality of a good house. None of them could so much as look at him; he was the thousand-rayed sun at midday, and he scorched those great bowmen with his arrows the way the sun scorches everything beneath it. Struck like that, the Pandavas and the Srinjayas found no protector, like elephants sunk in a bog, and Drona’s mighty arrows, coursing through the sky, looked like the rays of the sun blasting everything around them.
In that encounter Drona killed twenty-five warriors of the Panchalas whom everyone counted as maharathas and whom Dhrishtadyumna himself had rated so. Across the whole host of the Pandavas and the Panchalas, men quietly watched brave Drona take the foremost warriors one after another. He killed a hundred among the Kekayas and routed the rest in every direction, and then he stood, Sanjaya said, like the Destroyer himself with his mouth open wide. The mighty-armed Drona defeated the Panchalas, the Srinjayas, the Matsyas and the Kekayas by hundreds and by thousands, and the cry they made under his arrows was the cry of forest creatures ringed by a forest fire. The gods, the Gandharvas and the ancestors said among themselves: behold, the Panchalas and the Pandavas, with all their troops, are running. While Drona was killing the Somakas like that, no one ventured to advance on him and no one managed to pierce him. And in the middle of that dreadful encounter, so destructive of great heroes, Pritha’s son Yudhishthira suddenly heard the blare of Panchajanya. Blown by Vasudeva, that best of conchs gave loud blasts. The protectors of the ruler of the Sindhus were fighting, the Dhartarashtras were roaring in front of Arjuna’s chariot, and the twang of Gandiva could not be heard. The royal son of Pandu swooned, and swooned again, and each time he came back he thought the same thought: without doubt all is not well with Partha, since that prince of conchs is sounding like that and the Kauravas are shouting with such joy without pause.
He was stupefied over and over, and he never once lost sight of what had to be done next; Sanjaya, who had seen kings fail at exactly this, noted it. With that anxious heart Ajatashatru, the son of Kunti, turned to Satyaki of the Satvata race and spoke to him in a voice choked with tears. Grandson of Shini, he said, the time has come for that eternal duty which the righteous of old laid down for friends toward friends in a season of distress. Bull of the Shinis, reflecting within myself, I do not see among all my warriors a greater well-wisher to us than you. One who is always affectionate and always obedient is the one who should be given a grave commission in a time of distress; that is what I think. As Keshava is ever the refuge of the Pandavas, so are you, Vrishni, who are like Keshava in prowess. So I will lay a burden on you, and you must not frustrate my purpose. Arjuna is your brother, your friend and your teacher, bull among men; in this battle give him aid in his distress. You are devoted to truth, you are a hero, you dispel the fears of friends, and you are celebrated in the world for your deeds as one whose speech is true. The man who throws away his body fighting for friends is equal, grandson of Shini, to the man who gives the whole earth to Brahmanas. We have heard of kings who went to heaven having given away this whole earth to Brahmanas with the proper rites. Virtuous one, with joined hands I ask you this: win the fruit of giving away the whole earth, or something higher than that, by risking your very life to help Arjuna. There is one man, Krishna, dispeller of the fears of friends, who is always willing to cast his life away in battle for them. You, Satyaki, are the second. Only a hero can help a hero who is exerting his valor in battle for fame; an ordinary man cannot. In this matter there is no one but you who can protect Arjuna.
Then the king did something a wiser pleader might not have thought to do: he quoted Arjuna to Arjuna’s friend. Once, praising your many feats, he said, Arjuna recited them to me again and again, and it gave me great pleasure. He said your hand was extremely light, that you knew every mode of warfare, that you had great activity and great prowess. He said: Satyaki has great wisdom, knows every weapon, is a hero, is never stupefied in battle; broad of neck and broad of chest, with mighty arms and full cheeks, of great strength and great prowess, Satyaki is a high-souled maharatha. He is my disciple and my friend; I am dear to him and he is dear to me. With Yuyudhana as my ally I will crush the Kauravas. Even if Keshava and Rama, and Aniruddha, and the great chariot warrior Pradyumna, and Gada, and Sarana, and Samba, with all the Vrishnis, put on their mail to help us in the field, I would still appoint that tiger among men, Satyaki of unbaffled prowess, to our aid, since there is no one his equal. That is what Dhananjaya told me in the Dvaita woods, in your absence, describing your merits truly in an assembly of righteous men. It would be wrong of you, Vrishni, to falsify that expectation of Dhananjaya’s, and mine, and Bhima’s. When I came to Dvaraka on my way back from the tirthas, I saw your reverence for Arjuna. While we were at Upaplavya I noticed no one else, grandson of Shini, who showed us such affection as you did. You are of noble line and you revere us. For the sake of one who is your friend and teacher, mighty-armed one, act as your friendship, your prowess, your birth and your truthfulness deserve. Madhava, Suyodhana, cased in armor by Drona himself, has suddenly gone after Arjuna; the other great chariot warriors of the Kauravas went after him before that. Loud uproars are heard against Arjuna’s chariot. Grandson of Shini, giver of honors, go there quickly. Bhimasena and I, well equipped and with all our forces, will resist Drona if he advances against you.
And then he made Satyaki look at the field, and what he described was the geography of his fear. Look, grandson of Shini, the Bharata troops are flying in battle and wailing as they fly. As the ocean at full tide is stirred by a mighty tempest, so the Dhartarashtra host is stirred by Savyasachin. See the dust the earth throws up under countless chariots and men and horses, spreading slowly across the field. See that slayer of hostile hosts, Phalguna, surrounded by the Sindhu-Sauviras, armed with spikes and lances and thick with horses in their ranks. Without defeating that force it will not be possible to defeat Jayadratha; those warriors are prepared to lay down their lives for the ruler of the Sindhus. Look at the invincible Dhartarashtra force standing there, bristling with arrows and darts and tall standards, teeming with horses and elephants. Hear the beat of their drums and the blare of their conchs, their tremendous lion-shouts, the rattle of their chariot wheels; hear the grunting of their elephants, the heavy tread of their foot soldiers, the stamping of their cavalry, all of which seem to shake the earth itself. In front of him is Jayadratha’s division and behind him is Drona’s. His enemies are so many that they could afflict the chief of the gods. Sunk in the middle of that fathomless host, Arjuna may lose his life. If he is killed in battle, how can a man like me go on living? Is this calamity to fall on me while you are alive? Dark-blue in color, young in years, with curled locks, exceedingly handsome, quick with weapons and versed in every mode of warfare, the mighty-armed son of Pandu went into the Bharata host at sunrise. The day is about to end. Vrishni, I do not know whether he lives or not. The vast Kuru host is like the ocean, and Vibhatsu went into it all alone; that army cannot be resisted even by the gods. In today’s battle I cannot keep my judgment clear. Drona too is afflicting my forces with great might; you see how that Brahmana is careering in battle. When several tasks present themselves together, you are skilled at choosing which to attend to first. Giver of honors, do with all your energy the one that is gravest. Among all of these, I myself think that aiding Arjuna is the first that demands our attention; his rescue in battle should be undertaken before anything. I do not grieve for the Dasharha; he is the protector and lord of the universe, and I tell you truly that that tiger among men can defeat the three worlds gathered together, never mind this weak Dhritarashtra host. But Arjuna, Vrishni, is being afflicted by countless odds in battle, and he may yield up his life. That is why I am so cheerless. Go in his track, since a man like you should follow a man like him at such a season, urged on by one like me. Among the foremost of the Vrishnis two are counted as atirathas: the mighty-armed Pradyumna and yourself, Satvata, who are so famous. In weapons you are Narayana’s equal, in strength Sankarshana’s; in bravery you are equal to Dhananjaya, tiger among men, and you surpass Bhishma and Drona and everyone accomplished in battle. The wise say of you, Madhava, that there is nothing Satyaki cannot achieve. Therefore, strong one, do what I tell you: obey the wish of everyone here, of me and of Arjuna. Do not frustrate it, mighty-armed one. Reckless of your very life, career in battle like a hero. The scions of Dasharha’s race never care to protect their lives in battle. Avoiding battle, fighting from behind breastworks, fleeing from battle: those are the practices of cowards and wretches, and the Dasharhas never practice them. The virtuous Arjuna is your superior, bull among the Shinis, and Vasudeva is the superior of both you and the intelligent Arjuna. Looking at these two reasons I say these words to you. Do not set my words aside; I am the superior of your superiors. What I am telling you Arjuna also approves; I tell you this truly. Go then to where Dhananjaya is. Heeding my words, you whose prowess cannot be baffled, penetrate this host of Dhritarashtra’s wicked son, and having penetrated it properly, meet the great chariot warriors and show, Satvata, such feats as are worthy of you.
A key to reading this (two conchs): Panchajanya is Krishna’s conch and Gandiva is Arjuna’s bow, whose twang carries across a battlefield; Yudhishthira’s dread rests entirely on the difference between them. The charioteer’s conch is sounding, the archer’s bow is silent, and the Kauravas are cheering. Satyaki is Yuyudhana, the grandson of Shini (so “Shaineya”), of the Satvata and Madhu branches of the Vrishnis; Arjuna taught him the bow, which is why the king calls Arjuna his teacher. The assembly in the Dvaita woods, the return from the tirthas to Dvaraka, and Upaplavya are all from the exile years, told in chapters 11a, 13a and 20 on this site.
The gist: Drona pins Satyaki down like a boy playing with a bird on a string, and Yudhishthira brings the whole army to the rescue, only to watch Drona receive them all like guests and kill twenty-five Panchala maharathas and a hundred Kekayas. Then the king hears Panchajanya and cannot hear Gandiva, and in tears he asks Satyaki for the thing that turns this day: go after Arjuna, because after Krishna there is no one else who can.
“Arjuna handed you to me as a trust”: Satyaki’s dilemma, the king’s order, an inventory of the enemy, and a standard with a golden lion goes out
Satyaki heard the king out, every affectionate, sweet, opportune, delightful and equitable word of it, Sanjaya said, and then he answered with the one thing the king had not reckoned with, which was another order. I have heard everything you have said, he began, words full of justice and delight, spoken for Phalguna’s fame. At a time like this, seeing a man as devoted as I am, you may command me, king of kings, as you would command Partha himself. I am ready to throw my life away for Dhananjaya. Commanded by you, what is there I would not do in this great battle? Never mind this weak Dhritarashtra host; urged by you I would fight the three worlds, gods and Asuras and men. Today I will fight the whole army of Suyodhana and defeat it. I tell you truly, king. I will reach Dhananjaya in safety, and when Jayadratha has been killed I will come back into your presence. But I must tell you what Vasudeva said, and what the intelligent Arjuna said. He pressed me strongly and repeatedly, in the middle of all our warriors and in Vasudeva’s hearing: today, Madhava, resolved in battle, guard the king carefully until I kill Jayadratha. Handing the monarch to you, mighty-armed one, or to the great chariot warrior Pradyumna, I can go to Jayadratha with an easy heart. You know Drona in battle, the man they count first among the Kurus, and you know the vow he made in front of everyone. The son of Bharadvaja is always eager to seize the king, and he is capable of afflicting Yudhishthira in battle. Charging you with the protection of that best of men, I go today to destroy the ruler of the Sindhus; when Jayadratha is dead I will soon be back, Madhava. See that Drona does not succeed in seizing Yudhishthira by force. If the son of Bharadvaja seizes him, I will not succeed in killing Jayadratha, and great will be my grief. If that best of men, the truthful son of Pandu, is taken, it is plain that we shall have to go into the woods again. My success over Jayadratha will be worth nothing if Drona, inflamed with rage, seizes Yudhishthira in battle. So for my sake, Madhava, and for my success and my fame, protect the king.
That was Arjuna’s charge, and Satyaki laid it in front of the king like a document. You see, then, he said, that Savyasachin made you over to me as a trust, out of his constant fear of the son of Bharadvaja. Mighty-armed one, I see every day that there is no one but Rukmini’s son Pradyumna who can be a match for Drona in battle, and I am counted a match for him too. Plainly I cannot falsify that reputation, or disregard the command of my teacher, or leave you, king. The preceptor, cased in impenetrable mail, with the lightness of his hands, would get you in battle and sport with you as a child sports with a little bird. If Krishna’s son with the Makara on his banner were here I could hand you to him, for he would protect you as Arjuna himself would. You must protect yourself. When I am gone, who will protect you; who will go against Drona while I go toward Arjuna? King, have no fear today on Arjuna’s account. He never grows cheerless under any burden, however heavy. The warriors opposed to him, the Sauvirakas, the Sindhava-Pauravas, the men of the north and the men of the south, and those with Karna at their head who are counted the foremost of chariot warriors, do not together come to a sixteenth part of Arjuna. The whole earth rising against him, with the gods, the Asuras and men, with every tribe of Rakshasas, with the Kinnaras and the great serpents, with everything that moves and everything that does not, is no match for Arjuna in battle. Knowing this, let your fear for Dhananjaya be dispelled. Where those two heroes and great bowmen are, the two Krishnas whose prowess cannot be baffled, not the slightest obstacle can befall their purpose. Think of your brother’s celestial might, his mastery of weapons, his resourcefulness, his wrath in battle, his gratitude and his compassion. And think, king, of the wonderful knowledge of weapons Drona will display when I leave this place for Arjuna. The preceptor is eager to seize you; he is eager to make good his vow. Attend to your own protection. Who will protect you when I am gone; relying on whom may I go toward Phalguna? I tell you truly, great king, that without handing you over to someone in this great battle I will not go toward Arjuna. Reflect on this from every side with your intelligence, foremost of intelligent men, ascertain what is for your highest good, and command me.
Yudhishthira did not argue the point; he outranked it. It is as you say, mighty-armed one, he said, and even so my heart is not easy about Arjuna. I will take the greatest care in protecting myself. Commanded by me, go where Dhananjaya has gone. Weighing my own protection in battle against the necessity of your going to Arjuna, the second seems to me preferable. So make ready to go where Dhananjaya has gone. Mighty Bhima will protect me. Prishata’s son with all his brothers, and all the mighty kings, and the sons of Draupadi, will protect me without doubt. The five Kekaya brothers, and the Rakshasa Ghatotkacha, and Virata and Drupada, and the great chariot warrior Shikhandi, and Dhrishtaketu of great strength, and Kuntibhoja, and Nakula and Sahadeva, and the Panchalas and the Srinjayas, all of these will guard me with great care. Drona at the head of his troops, and Kritavarma too, will not succeed in beating us or afflicting me. That scorcher of foes Dhrishtadyumna will resist the angry Drona as the continent resists the sea. Where Prishata’s son stands, that slayer of hostile heroes, Drona will never be able to force his way through our troops. Dhrishtadyumna sprang from the fire for Drona’s destruction, clad in mail, armed with bow and arrows and sword, decked in costly ornaments. Go, grandson of Shini, with an easy heart, and do not be anxious on my account. Dhrishtadyumna will resist the angry Drona in battle.
Satyaki stood between two censures. If he left the king, Arjuna would blame him; if he disobeyed the king, people would call him a coward who was afraid to go toward Arjuna. He turned it over more than once, Sanjaya said, and it was the second fear that decided him. If you think these arrangements are enough for your protection, monarch, he said, then I will do your bidding and follow Vibhatsu. I tell you truly, king, that in the three worlds there is no one dearer to me than Phalguna. At your command, giver of honors, I will follow in his track; there is nothing I would not do for your sake. My teacher’s commands always weigh with me, but your commands weigh more. Your brothers Krishna and Dhananjaya are always engaged in doing what pleases you. Taking your command on my head for Arjuna’s sake, I will go, bull among men, piercing this impenetrable host. Darting angrily through Drona’s force like a fish through the sea, I will go to where king Jayadratha stands, relying on his troops, in fear of the son of Pandu, protected by those foremost chariot warriors, Drona’s son and Karna and Kripa. The place where Partha stands ready to kill Jayadratha is, I think, three yojanas from here. But though he is three yojanas away I will follow in his track with a stout heart and stay with him, king, until Jayadratha is slain. What man goes into battle without the command of his superiors? And when a man has been commanded as you have commanded me, who is there like me that would not fight? I know the place I have to go to. This ocean of a host, teeming with plowshares and darts and maces and shields and scimitars and swords and lances and the finest arrows: today I will churn it.
And then, before he went, he counted what lay between him and Arjuna, and the count is worth hearing, because it is a map of the afternoon to come. That elephant division you see, king, a thousand elephants, all of the breed called Anjana, all of great prowess, ridden by a great number of Mlecchas who delight in battle and are accomplished in striking; those elephants shed their juice like clouds shedding rain, and once urged forward by the men on their backs they never retreat. They cannot be defeated unless they are slaughtered. Then those chariot warriors, thousands of them, all of royal line and all maharathas, whom men call the Rukmarathas: accomplished with weapons and in fighting from chariots and from the backs of elephants, thorough masters of the science of arms, skilled with their fists, with maces, at close quarters, with the scimitar and with sword and shield alike; brave, learned, driven by rivalry, every day they defeat a great many men in battle. They are commanded by Karna and devoted to Duhshasana, and Vasudeva himself praises them as great chariot warriors. Ever solicitous of Karna’s welfare and obedient to him, they turned back from pursuing Arjuna at Karna’s order, so they are unwearied and unworn, cased in impenetrable armor and armed with strong bows, and they are certainly waiting for me, at Duryodhana’s order too. Crushing them in battle for your good, Kaurava, I will follow in Savyasachin’s track. Those other elephants, seven hundred of them, all armored and ridden by Kiratas and decked with ornaments: the king of the Kiratas once presented them to Savyasachin, together with many servants, to save his own life. They used to do your business, king. Behold what time brings around, for now they fight against you. The Kiratas riding them are hard to defeat in battle, accomplished in fighting from elephants, all sprung from the race of Agni; Savyasachin defeated all of them once, and now they wait for me carefully under Duryodhana’s orders. Killing those Kiratas with my arrows, I will follow Arjuna, who is intent on the slaughter of the ruler of the Sindhus. Those other huge elephants, sprung from the race of Arjuna, with impenetrable hides, well trained and adorned, their juice trickling from their mouths, armored entirely in gold, formidable in battle and like Airavata himself: they have come from the northern hills, and they are ridden by fierce robbers of strong limb, all foremost warriors, cased in steel mail. Among them are men born of the cow, of the ape, of diverse other creatures, and of men. That division of assembled Mlecchas, all sinful, come from the fastnesses of Himavat, looks smoke-colored from a distance. Having these, and countless Kshatriyas, and Kripa, and that foremost of chariot warriors Drona, and the ruler of the Sindhus, and Karna, Duryodhana thinks lightly of the Pandavas; driven by fate he counts himself already crowned with success. But everyone I have named will be within reach of my arrows today. They will not escape me, son of Kunti, even with the speed of thought. Those warriors, so highly regarded by Duryodhana, that prince who depends on the prowess of others, will meet destruction under my clouds of arrows. And those other chariot warriors you see, with golden standards, hard to resist, are called Kambojas: brave and accomplished, firmly devoted to the science of weapons, wanting one another’s welfare and firmly united. They make up a full akshauhini of wrathful warriors, and they are waiting for me, well protected by the Kuru heroes, on the alert, with their eyes on me. I will destroy them all, as fire destroys a heap of straw. So let those who equip chariots put quivers and every necessary thing on my chariot in their proper places. In a battle this dreadful many kinds of weapons have to be taken. Let the chariot be equipped five times beyond what the professors of the military science prescribe, for I will have to meet the Kambojas, who are like fierce snakes of virulent poison; and the Kiratas, armed with every kind of weapon, poisonous themselves, accomplished in striking, always well treated by Duryodhana and for that reason always intent on his welfare; and the Shakas, whose prowess equals Shakra’s, fierce as fire and as hard to put out as a blazing conflagration. Many warriors hard to resist, king, I will have to meet in battle. So let horses of the best breed, well known and marked with auspicious signs, be yoked to my chariot, after their thirst has been slaked and they have been properly groomed.
Yudhishthira had it done. Quivers full of arrows, weapons of every kind, everything needed, were placed on Satyaki’s chariot. His four fine horses were unyoked, made to drink and walk, bathed and fed; the arrows that had lodged in them were plucked out, gold chains were hung on them, and those horses, gold-colored, well trained, very fast, cheerful and exceedingly docile, were yoked to the chariot again. A tall standard was set up on it bearing a lion of golden maces, with banners the color of white clouds worked with gold attached around it, and the whole vehicle carried a heavy load of weapons. When the gold-trapped horses had been yoked, the younger brother of Daruka, who was Satyaki’s charioteer and dear friend, came to tell him that the chariot was ready, as Matali tells Vasava. Satyaki bathed, purified himself, went through every auspicious rite, and gave gold nishkas to a thousand Snataka Brahmanas, who blessed him. Blessed like that, that foremost of handsome men, that hero worthy of worship, drank the mead called kairata and shone with reddened eyes rolling in intoxication; he touched a mirror of brass, and joy doubled his energy until he looked like a blazing fire. He took his bow and arrows on his shoulder, and cased in armor and decked in ornaments he had the twice-born perform the rites of propitiation for him, while fair maidens honored him with a shower of fried paddy and perfumes and garlands of flowers. Then with joined hands he worshiped Yudhishthira’s feet, and the king smelled his head. After all these rites he mounted his foremost of chariots, and those cheerful, strong, wind-swift, invincible horses of the Sindhu breed bore him off on that triumphant car. Bhimasena too, honored by the king and saluting him with reverence, set out with Satyaki. Seeing those two chastisers of foes on the point of entering your host, your troops, with Drona at their head, all stood still. Then Satyaki, seeing Bhima in mail behind him, saluted that hero and spoke with every limb full of joy. Bhima, protect the king; that is your duty above everything. I will pierce this host, whose hour has come, and go on. Now or later, the king’s protection is your highest duty. You know my prowess and you wish me well; go back, Bhima. Bhima answered: go then, and succeed. Best of men, I will protect the king. And Satyaki said: go back, son of Pritha. My success is certain, since today you obey my wish, won over by my merits. As these auspicious omens tell me, my victory is assured. After the high-souled son of Pandu has killed the sinful ruler of the Sindhus, I will embrace the virtuous king Yudhishthira. He dismissed Bhima with an embrace, and then that illustrious warrior eyed your troops the way a tiger eyes a herd of deer. Seeing him look at your army like that, your troops went numb once more and began to tremble violently. And then, at the command of the king, wanting to see Arjuna, Satyaki suddenly dashed against your troops.
A key to reading this (a trust and a count): Satyaki’s difficulty is two commands that cannot both be obeyed. Arjuna handed him the king because of Drona’s vow to take Yudhishthira alive (told in chapter 24), and now the king is sending him after Arjuna; he refuses, is overruled, and yields for fear of being called a coward. His inventory of what stands in the way, the thousand Anjana elephants, Karna’s Rukmarathas, the seven hundred Kirata elephants once given to Arjuna on his conquest of the north, the smoke-colored Mlecchas of the Himalaya, an akshauhini of Kambojas, and the Shakas, is the itinerary of the next scenes. The five-fold equipment, the kairata mead, the touch of a brass mirror and the shower of fried paddy are the rites of a warrior’s departure as Vyasa records them. Satyaki’s driver is the younger brother of Daruka, Krishna’s charioteer.
The gist: Satyaki reminds the king that Arjuna left Yudhishthira in his keeping because Drona means to capture him, and that no one need fear for Arjuna. Yudhishthira orders him anyway and names his own guard. Caught between Arjuna’s blame and the world’s charge of cowardice, Satyaki obeys, counts the divisions in his way one by one, has his chariot loaded five times over, sends Bhima back to the king, and goes at the Kaurava host like a tiger at deer.
Like a fish through the sea: Satyaki cuts into the host, Drona’s taunt and its answer, and the head of Kritavarma’s charioteer
When Yuyudhana went at your troops wanting battle, Sanjaya told the king, Yudhishthira followed him with his own forces, meaning to reach Drona’s chariot. Then the invincible Dhrishtadyumna, son of the Panchala king, and king Vasudana both cried out with the Pandava host: come, strike quickly, rush at the enemy, so that Satyaki, who cannot be beaten in battle, may pass through easily. Many great chariot warriors will struggle to defeat him. Saying this, the great chariot warriors of the Pandava army fell on the foe with a rush, all of them shouting the same thing: we will defeat whoever tries to defeat Satyaki. A great uproar rose around Satyaki’s chariot. But your son’s host, covered by Satyaki’s arrows, fled; the Satvata broke it into a hundred struggling bodies. And while that force was breaking, the grandson of Shini crushed seven heroic great bowmen in the enemy’s front rank, and with arrows like flames of fire sent many other heroes, kings of various realms, to the region of Yama. Sometimes he pierced a hundred warriors with one shaft and sometimes one warrior with a hundred. Like the great Rudra destroying creatures, he killed elephant riders and chariot warriors together with their horses and drivers. No one in your army dared advance on a man who showed such lightness of hand and rained such clouds of arrows. Panic-struck and ground down by that long-armed hero, those brave men all left the field at the sight of him. He was alone, and they saw him multiplied many times over, stupefied by his energy.
What he left behind him was, in Sanjaya’s telling, beautiful, and the word is meant exactly: the earth was beautiful with crushed chariots and broken nidas, with wheels and fallen umbrellas and standards and anukarshas and banners, with gold-worked headgear, with human arms smeared with sandal paste and adorned with angadas, with human thighs like the trunks of elephants or the tapering bodies of snakes, and with the faces of large-eyed warriors, beautiful as the moon and decked with earrings, lying everywhere. The ground was beautiful with the huge bodies of fallen elephants, cut in different ways, like a great plain strewn with hills. Horses crushed by that long-armed hero and dropped lifeless were beautiful in their traces of burnished gold set with rows of pearls, in their carcasses of handsome make. Having killed every kind of your troops, the Satvata went into your host, stirring it and routing it. Then Satyaki wanted to go by the very track Dhananjaya had taken before him, and Drona came and stood in his way. Meeting the son of Bharadvaja, Yuyudhana, filled with rage, did not stop, like a vast body of water that has met an embankment. Drona, checking the great chariot warrior, pierced him with five keen shafts that could reach the vitals. Satyaki pierced Drona with seven arrows whetted on stone, gold-winged, feathered with kanka and peacock. Drona afflicted Satyaki, his horses and his drivers with six. Yuyudhana could not bear that; with a lion’s roar he pierced Drona with ten arrows, then six, then eight more; then ten more into Drona, one into his charioteer, four into his four horses, and with one more shaft he struck Drona’s standard. Drona then swiftly covered Satyaki, his chariot, horses, driver and standard with fast-coursing shafts, countless as a flight of locusts, and Yuyudhana, fearless, covered Drona with countless swift shafts of his own.
Then Drona spoke, and the taunt was aimed less at Satyaki than at the man Satyaki was following. Your teacher, he said, has gone away from the battle like a coward, avoiding me while I fought him, slipping past my flank. Madhava, if you do not quickly avoid me the way your teacher did, you will not get out of this battle alive, engaged as I am with you. Satyaki answered him from the other side of the same fact. At the command of king Yudhishthira the just, I shall follow in Dhananjaya’s track. Blessed be you, Brahmana; I would lose time fighting you. A disciple should always tread the path his teacher trod. So I will follow the track my teacher has made. With that much said the grandson of Shini avoided the preceptor and went suddenly on. And he gave his charioteer the route. Drona will try by every means to check my progress. Drive carefully, Suta, and listen to these grave words of mine. Over there you can see the host of great splendor of the Avantis. Beyond them is the mighty host of the Southerners, and beyond that the great host of the Bahlikas, and beside the Bahlikas the mighty host commanded by Karna stands resolved to fight. Charioteer, all of these hosts are separate, and yet they rely on one another and protect one another on the field. Reach the open space left between those divisions and cheerfully urge the horses; carry me there at a tolerable speed, to where the Bahlikas stand with their many weapons raised and the countless Southerners under the Suta’s son, whose division is a serried mass of elephants and horses and chariots with foot soldiers from many realms among them. Having said that much, he avoided the Brahmana and went on, telling his driver: pass through the open space between those two divisions toward the fierce and mighty host of Karna. But Drona, excited with wrath, pursued him from behind, shooting countless arrows; the preceptor followed close on that highly blessed Yuyudhana, who advanced with no wish to turn back.
Striking Karna’s great host with whetted arrows, Satyaki entered the vast, limitless army of the Bharatas, and the troops in front of him gave way. At that, the wrathful Kritavarma came forward to resist him. The valiant Satyaki struck the advancing Kritavarma with six shafts and with four more quickly killed his four horses; then he pierced him in the center of the chest with four more, and again in the center of the chest with sixteen straight shafts of great speed. Kritavarma could not bear it. Aiming a calf-toothed arrow like a snake of virulent poison, swift as the wind, and drawing the bowstring to his ear, he pierced Satyaki in the chest; that beautifully feathered arrow went through armor and body, and dyed in blood it entered the earth. Then Kritavarma, master of the highest weapons, shooting many arrows, cut Satyaki’s bow with the arrows still fixed on it, and in his rage put ten very keen shafts into the center of Satyaki’s chest. His bow broken, that foremost of strong men hurled a dart at Kritavarma’s right arm, took up a tougher bow, drew it, and shot at his enemy by hundreds and by thousands until Kritavarma and his chariot were wholly shrouded in that arrowy rain. Having shrouded the son of Hridika like that, Satyaki cut the head of his charioteer from his trunk with a broad-headed arrow. The slain charioteer fell from that great chariot, and Kritavarma’s horses, with no driver, ran off at great speed. The ruler of the Bhojas, in great agitation, checked those horses himself, and then, bow in hand, stood on his chariot ready for battle; his troops applauded the feat loudly. Resting a short while, Kritavarma urged his good horses on; fearless himself, he inspired his enemies with great fear. But Satyaki had left him behind by then, and Kritavarma, without pursuing him, rushed against Bhimasena instead. Out of the Bhoja division, Satyaki went at great speed toward the mighty division of the Kambojas, and there, resisted by many brave and mighty chariot warriors, Yuyudhana, whose prowess nothing could thwart, could not advance a step. Meanwhile Drona, having put his troops in position and handed their protection to the ruler of the Bhojas, went with great speed and firm resolve after Yuyudhana, wanting battle. The foremost warriors of the Pandava host, seeing Drona pursuing Yuyudhana from behind, cheerfully set about resisting him. But the Panchalas, with Bhimasena at their head, coming up against the son of Hridika, that foremost of chariot warriors, all lost heart. The heroic Kritavarma, displaying his prowess, resisted those warriors who, a little disheartened, still struggled with great vigor; fearlessly he weakened the animals of his enemies with his showers of arrows. And the brave warriors of the Pandava army, though afflicted like that by the ruler of the Bhojas, stood, as high-born soldiers do, resolved to fight the division of the Bhojas itself for the sake of great renown.
A key to reading this (the disciple’s road): Drona’s taunt and Satyaki’s answer are two readings of one fact. That morning Arjuna went past Drona without finishing the fight, told earlier in this chapter; Drona calls it cowardice, and Satyaki calls it the road his teacher made, which a disciple follows. Kritavarma, son of Hridika and king of the Bhojas, is a Vrishni fighting on the Kaurava side, so his duel with Satyaki is a fight within one clan. A nida is the fighting platform of a chariot and an anukarsha the timber beneath it; the calf-toothed arrow (vatsadanta) is a named arrowhead. Vasudana is the king of the Panshu country on the Pandava side, listed in Bhishma’s count of chariot warriors in chapter 20.
The gist: Satyaki breaks the Kaurava host into a hundred pieces on Arjuna’s track. Drona blocks him and calls Arjuna a coward; Satyaki answers that a disciple follows his teacher’s road, slips past the preceptor, and drives through the gap between the Avanti, Southern and Bahlika divisions into Karna’s host. Kritavarma stops him, cuts his bow and pierces his chest; Satyaki takes his charioteer’s head and goes on, only to be halted at the Kamboja division with Drona coming up behind.
Source: the Mahabharata of Krishna-Dwaipayana Vyasa, Drona Parva. This chapter follows K. M. Ganguli, sections LI-CXXIII (51-123); the Gita Press Hindi edition numbers these chapters differently. Names, order, and events were checked against Ganguli’s complete translation. Dialogue and commentary are adapted, not a verbatim translation. About the sources.
Based on: The Mahabharata, Vyasa (Gita Press, Gorakhpur)