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Night was in its deepest watch when Ghatotkacha, pierced by the unfailing dart Indra had once given, fell to the earth like a toppling mountain, and Karna spent on a single Rakshasa the thunderbolt he had hoarded for years to kill Arjuna. Grief ran through the Pandava camp. Yet Vasudeva’s eyes held no tears. Joy flashed in them, for he knew the thorn of Arjuna’s death had now been drawn. In that same darkness, when the sun returned and the light of the fifteenth day spread across the field, the thing happened that blurred forever the border between truth and falsehood in the Mahabharata. This stream of the story carries you to the turn where the half-truth of an elephant named Ashvatthama being killed reached the ears of Acharya Drona, where a single sentence from Yudhishthira made Drona lay down his weapons, and where the aged teacher met his end at the hands of Dhrishtadyumna.
Ghatotkacha’s end and the night that was averted
Sanjaya told the blind king Dhritarashtra that in that night’s fighting Hidimba’s son Ghatotkacha wove such an illusion that the Kaurava army cried out in terror. A mass like red clouds gathered in the sky, and out of it broke lightning, burning torches, and a roar like a thousand kettledrums. From it poured gold-winged arrows, spears, maces, axes, Sataghnis (a weapon that slays a hundred at a throw), iron discs, and boulders like the sides of hills. Karna could not check that dreadful rain with all his shafts. Your son’s army began to scatter, crying, “Run! Everything is lost! The gods, with Indra among them, are killing us for the sake of the Pandavas!”
Then the Kauravas cried out, “Karna, kill this Rakshasa now with the dart Vasava gave you, or these kings, each an equal of Indra, will all perish this very night.” Karna’s mind was torn, for he had saved that dart for Arjuna. But seeing the army sinking, he took it up like an angry lion and hurled that unfailing missile, which Shakra himself had given him in exchange for his inborn armor and earrings, straight at Ghatotkacha. Blazing, it destroyed the Rakshasa’s illusion, drove through his chest, and soared up into the night to enter a constellation of stars. As he died, Ghatotkacha swelled his vast body larger still and dropped upon one wing of the Kaurava host, crushing a full akshauhini beneath his weight, doing the Pandavas good with his last breath.
A key to reading this (lineage): Ghatotkacha was the son of Bhimasena and the Rakshasi Hidimba, so he is called “Hidimba’s son” and “son of Bhimasena.” Karna is called by the names “Vaikartana,” “Suta’s son,” “Radheya,” and “Vrisha.” He is “Vaikartana” because he cut away his own inborn armor and earrings (vi and kartana, a cutting off) and gave them to Indra.
The moment Ghatotkacha fell, the Pandavas wept, but Vasudeva roared like a lion in delight and embraced Arjuna again and again. Grieving, Arjuna asked why he showed such joy at a time made for sorrow. Krishna said, “Dhananjaya, Karna’s unfailing dart is spent at last. While that dart was his, no one in this world could stand before him. By good fortune his armor and earrings had already been taken from him, and now this dart too has been wasted on Ghatotkacha. Karna is now only a man. There will come one chance for his death, when his chariot wheel sinks into the earth. In that instant you will strike him down, and I will give you the sign beforehand. For your good, by many contrivances, I have brought about the deaths of Jarasandha, Shishupala the Chedi king, and the Nishada’s son Ekalavya. Hidimba, Kirmira, Vaka, Alayudha, and now Ghatotkacha have all fallen in the same order.”
A sub-tale: This exchange opens the deepest moral knot in the Mahabharata. Krishna himself admits that he has killed his side’s enemies by “many contrivances,” which is to say by stratagem. Ghatotkacha’s death was no accident. Krishna knew that Karna’s unfailing dart would one day be spent on someone, and he let Bhima’s own grandson become its target so that Arjuna would live. The mingling of joy and grief here, Krishna glad at the death of his own kin, is the face of the war’s hard policy, and Vyasa does not hide it.
The gist: Karna hurled at Ghatotkacha the unfailing dart he had saved for Arjuna, and killed him. Krishna called it a cause for joy, because Karna no longer held a sure weapon with which to kill Arjuna.
The fifteenth day’s battle and Drona’s cataclysmic prowess
The night passed and the sun of the fifteenth day rose, the fifth day of Drona’s command. That day too Acharya Drona wrought among the Panchalas the same carnage that Indra once wrought among the Danavas in the old days. The Panchalas and the Srinjayas, roaring, ringed him on every side, and he cut them down with arrows and darts. The teacher’s weapons covered all four directions, and the Pandava army, gripped by fear, lost hope of victory. They said to one another, “Will Drona not burn us all as a forest fire in spring burns a heap of straw? None can even raise his eyes to him, and Arjuna, who knows dharma, will not fight him.”
Duhshasana closed with Dhrishtadyumna, but under the arrow-rain of Prishata’s son his chariot, driver, and standard vanished from sight, and he could not hold before the teacher. Then Dhrishtadyumna pressed toward Drona. Hridika’s son Kritavarma came with three brothers to stop him, but Nakula and Sahadeva, the twin heroes, guarded Dhrishtadyumna and held all four back. It is worth marking that these seven warriors, with heaven for their aim, fought wholly by the rule of righteous war. None used barbed, poisoned, double-headed, or crooked-flying shafts. All shot only straight and proper arrows, for all of them sought worlds of fame and blessedness.
Then Duryodhana, raining blood-drinking arrows, ran at Dhrishtadyumna, but Satyaki blocked his path. The two childhood companions, Duryodhana of Kuru’s line and Satyaki of Madhu’s, looked at each other and smiled again and again. Blaming himself in his heart, Duryodhana said, “Fie on this wrath, and fie on Kshatriya usage. You who were once dearer to me than life itself, and I to you, today we aim our weapons at each other, driven by greed for wealth and by anger. The course of Time is truly hard to turn.” Satyaki laughed and answered, “King, this is neither that assembly hall nor the teacher’s house where we played together as boys. This is the Kshatriya’s way, that he must fight even his own elders. If I am dear to you, kill me without delay, for I do not wish to watch this great destruction of friends.”
Duryodhana pierced him with arrows, but Satyaki cut apart all his shafts and his bow, and gave him such pain that Duryodhana had to take shelter in another chariot. Seeing him in danger, Karna ran to save him, but Bhimasena blocked Karna. Karna cut off Bhima’s bow, arrows, and driver, and Bhima with his mace broke Karna’s bow, standard, driver, and one wheel of his chariot. Even so, Karna stood on that one-wheeled chariot unmoved as Meru, king of mountains, like the single-wheeled chariot of the Sun drawn by his seven divine horses.
A key to reading this (a concept): “Righteous war” (dharma-yuddha) means keeping the limits the shastras set down: forgoing poisoned or barbed arrows, sparing one who seeks refuge, striking only fairly. The Mahabharata calls this day’s duels righteous war to set a deep contrast with the unrighteousness that follows, the killing of Drona by a half-truth.
The gist: On the fifteenth day Drona wrought terrible slaughter among the Panchalas. Many righteous duels broke out, and in the combats of Satyaki against Duryodhana and Karna against Bhima the Pandava side prevailed.
The Pandavas’ despair and Krishna’s hard counsel
When the fighting grew furious, Dharmaraja Yudhishthira turned to the Panchala and Matsya warriors and said, “Those who are our very life and our heads, those mighty men, are locked in struggle with the Dhartarashtras. Why do you stand as though stunned and out of your senses? Move up to where our car-warriors are fighting. Cast off your fear and keep the Kshatriya’s dharma. If we win, we will offer great sacrifices with gifts to Brahmanas, and if we are slain, we will become the equals of the gods and win regions of blessedness.” So urged, the brave warriors pressed toward Drona. Bhimasena called out to Arjuna, “Arjuna, quickly drive the Kurus away from Drona. If the teacher can be stripped of his protectors, the Panchalas can kill him easily.” Arjuna fell upon the Kauravas, and Drona fell upon the Panchalas led by Dhrishtadyumna.
Drona again wrought such ruin among the Panchalas that the Pandavas lost all hope of victory. Then the deeply wise Keshava spoke to Arjuna the words that are the axis of this whole story. “This best of all bowmen can never be won by force in battle. The gods themselves, with Vasava at their head, cannot defeat him. But once he lays down his weapons, even a man may kill him. Set dharma aside now, sons of Pandu, and take up some means to victory, so that Drona of the golden chariot does not destroy us all. My thought is this: only on hearing that his son Ashvatthama has fallen will he turn from the fight. So let someone tell him that Ashvatthama has been killed in battle.”
Kunti’s son Arjuna would not accept this counsel. All the rest accepted it, and Yudhishthira accepted it too, though only with great difficulty. Then the mighty-armed Bhimasena struck down with his mace a huge and terrible elephant named Ashvatthama, belonging to Indravarma the Malava king, which stood within his own army. With some little shame he went up to Drona and cried aloud, “Ashvatthama is killed!” Keeping the true fact hidden in his mind, he spoke what was untrue. Hearing those most unwelcome words and turning them over, Drona felt his limbs dissolve like sand in water. But recalling his son’s prowess, he soon judged the news false, and steadying himself he held that Ashvatthama could not be overcome by any foe.
A sub-tale: Notice how double-edged Krishna’s sentence is. He does not tell anyone to speak a plain lie to Drona. He suggests a “means,” and he says in clear words that dharma must be set aside. Bhima, by killing an elephant that carried the name Ashvatthama, forged a technical truth so that the words would not stand as a lie. His intent, all the while, was pure deceit. This is the seed that will later break from Yudhishthira’s own mouth and take the teacher’s life.
Judging the news false, Drona rushed at Dhrishtadyumna, the prince ordained to be his slayer, and covered him with a thousand keen shafts fledged with kanka feathers. Then twenty thousand Panchala car-warriors of great energy covered the teacher with their arrows. But Drona, invoking the Brahma weapon and shining like a smokeless, blazing fire, struck down all twenty thousand Panchala warriors. He cut off the head of Vasudana with a broad-headed arrow, then killed five hundred Matsyas, six thousand elephants, and ten thousand horses. The earth turned to mire with flesh and blood.
A key to reading this (the numbers, a modern scale): Twenty thousand car-warriors, six thousand elephants, and ten thousand horses destroyed in a single episode comes, in sheer scale, to roughly a whole modern military division. These Mahabharata numbers are meant to convey the industrial scale of the war’s destruction, where a single warrior cuts down thousands in one day.
The gist: To halt Drona, Krishna proposed the ruse of a lie that Ashvatthama was dead. Bhima killed an elephant of that name and spoke the words, but Drona refused to believe them and wrought a still fiercer carnage.
The coming of the rishis and the call to lay down weapons
Seeing Drona standing on the field for the destruction of the Kshatriya race, great rishis appeared before him: Vishvamitra, Jamadagni, Bharadvaja, Gautama, Vasishtha, Kashyapa, Atri, Garga, Marichi, the descendants of Bhrigu and Angiras, the Valakhilyas, and many other sages of subtle form, with Agni the bearer of oblations at their front. They had come, wishing to bear Drona away to the world of Brahman, and they said to that ornament of battle, “Drona, you are fighting unrighteously. The hour of your death has come. Lay down your weapons and behold us standing here. Such cruel deeds no longer become you. You are versed in the Vedas and their branches, a Brahmana devoted to truth, and such acts are not worthy of you. With the Brahma weapon you have burned even men who know nothing of arms. This is not dharma. Lay down your weapons, drive off the film of error that shrouds you, and come to the eternal path. Your time among men is now full.”
Hearing the words of the rishis and of Bhima, and seeing Dhrishtadyumna before him, Drona grew deeply cheerless in the fight. Burning with grief and sore afflicted, he asked Kunti’s son Yudhishthira whether his son Ashvatthama had truly been killed or not. The teacher firmly believed that Yudhishthira would not speak an untruth even for the sovereignty of the three worlds. For this reason he asked Yudhishthira, and no one else, because from Yudhishthira’s infancy he had looked to him for truth.
Meanwhile, knowing that if the enraged Drona fought even half a day the Pandava army would be swept off the face of the earth, Govinda grew deeply troubled. He said to Yudhishthira, “If Drona fights in his wrath for even half a day, I tell you truly, your army will be annihilated. Save us, then, from Drona. Under such circumstances, falsehood is better than truth. By telling an untruth to save a life, a man is not touched by sin. There is no sin in an untruth spoken to a woman, or in a marriage, or to save a king, or to rescue a Brahmana.”
A key to reading this (a concept): The “Brahma weapon” (brahmastra) is the supreme divine missile, held to be bound to Brahma, able to burn its target utterly. The rishis fault Drona for exactly this, that he loosed so divine a weapon on ordinary, unarmed men, against a Brahmana’s dharma. And the five pardonable cases of untruth that Krishna lists here, to save a life and for a woman, a marriage, a king, or a Brahmana, are a well-known limit of the dharmashastra, which he holds up before Yudhishthira like a shield.
Then Bhimasena said to the king, “The moment I heard by what means the great Drona could be killed, I put forth my strength and struck down the elephant of Indravarma the Malava king, huge as Indra’s own elephant, and told Drona that Ashvatthama was killed and that he should cease to fight. But the teacher would not believe it. Now, King, if you desire victory, take Govinda’s counsel and tell Drona that the son of Sharadvat’s daughter is no more. That best of Brahmanas will never take your word for false, for in the three worlds you are famed as a speaker of truth.”
The gist: The rishis told Drona to leave the unrighteous fight and lay down his weapons. Grieving, Drona hoped for truth and asked only Yudhishthira about his son’s death, and Krishna and Bhima pressed Yudhishthira to speak the untruth.
Yudhishthira’s words and the chariot touching the earth
Moved by Bhima’s words, by Krishna’s counsel, and by the inevitability of destiny, Yudhishthira made up his mind to say what they wished. Fearing to speak an untruth, yet fierce with the desire for victory, Yudhishthira said in a clear voice that Ashvatthama was killed, and in a faint voice, very low, added the word “elephant” behind the name. “He for whom you take up your weapons, he looking upon whom you live, your dear son Ashvatthama has been killed. Deprived of life, he lies on the bare earth like a young lion.” The teacher heard only the first, clear part. The word “elephant” never reached his ears.
Before this, Yudhishthira’s chariot had run four fingers’ breadth above the surface of the earth, held there by the power of his truth. But the moment he spoke that half-truth, his chariot and horses came down and touched the ground. The unseen glory of truth that had lifted him above the earth came down with that single utterance.
A sub-tale: The chariot running four fingers above the earth was the sign of Yudhishthira’s unbroken truth, and its settling to the ground is the most hidden moment of this story. The descent marks a man stepping down from a moral height. Yudhishthira spoke a technical truth, since the elephant too was named Ashvatthama, and yet his intent was deceit. The Mahabharata does not paper over this fine seam. The truth of words and the truth of the heart can part ways, and even Dharmaraja wavered at that edge.
Hearing those words from Yudhishthira, the great car-warrior Drona sank into despair, grief-stricken for the supposed death of his son. By the words of the rishis he had already begun to count himself a great offender against the high-souled Pandavas. Now, hearing of his son’s death, he grew wholly cheerless and filled with anxiety, and when he beheld Dhrishtadyumna before him, that chastiser of foes could no longer fight as before.
The gist: Yudhishthira said aloud that Ashvatthama was dead and faintly added “elephant.” In that instant his chariot, which had always run above the earth, touched the ground, and Drona, sunk in grief, lost his fire.
Dhrishtadyumna’s assault and Drona’s last valor
Seeing Drona filled with anxiety and almost robbed of his senses by grief, the Panchala prince Dhrishtadyumna rushed at him. This was the very hero that King Drupada had obtained for Drona’s death at a great sacrifice, from the fire that bears the oblations. He took up a victory-giving, formidable bow whose twang was like the roll of clouds, and fixed on it a fierce arrow, bright with the splendor of fire and like a snake of virulent poison. Seeing that arrow within the circle of the bow, the troops took it for the last hour of the world. Drona too understood that the last hour of his body had come.
The teacher prepared with care to baffle that shaft, but now his celestial weapons no longer came at his call. For four days and one night he had shot arrows without pause and they had not run out, but in the third watch of the fifth day they were spent. From the exhaustion of his arrows, from grief for his son, from the failure of the divine weapons to appear, and from the words of the rishis, Drona wished to lay down his weapons. Even so, taking up another celestial bow that Angiras had given him, and arrows like a Brahmana’s curse, he fought on with Dhrishtadyumna. He cut the bow, standard, and driver of Prishata’s son. Dhrishtadyumna took up a second bow and pierced Drona’s chest, but the teacher cut off his bow again and severed all his weapons, leaving him only his mace and sword.
Then Dhrishtadyumna invoked the Brahma weapon and mingled his own horses with Drona’s. Those wind-swift horses, red and dove-colored, mingled together, looked lovely as thunderclouds in the rains. The teacher cut off the joints of his chariot, and Dhrishtadyumna, without chariot, horses, or driver, stood with a mace, and Drona cut the mace down too. Then the Panchala prince took up a spotless sword and a bright shield decked with a hundred moons, resolved to make an end of the old teacher. Sometimes he sheltered in the chariot box, sometimes he mounted the chariot shaft, sometimes he slipped behind Drona’s red horses. He showed the well-known twenty-one kinds of movement and the sword-arts called Bharata, Kaushika, and Satvata, at which even the gods assembled there were filled with wonder.
Drona, shooting a thousand arrows in the thick of the fight, cut off Dhrishtadyumna’s sword and his hundred-mooned shield. Then, wishing to slay the disciple who was dear to him as his own son, he fixed a swift arrow to his bowstring. But Satyaki cut that arrow away with ten of his own, before the very eyes of Duryodhana and the great Karna, and rescued Dhrishtadyumna as he was on the point of falling. Krishna and Arjuna cried “Excellent! Excellent!” in praise of Satyaki, who ranged fearlessly within the very range of the arrows of Drona, Karna, and Kripa.
A key to reading this (lineage): Dhrishtadyumna is called “Prishata’s son” and “the Panchala prince.” He was the son of King Drupada, born into the line of Prishata. The old enmity of Drona and Drupada is the root of this killing. The humiliated Drupada had gained from a sacrifice a son to kill Drona, and a daughter, Draupadi, whose life would bring the end of the Kuru line.
The gist: Drupada’s son Dhrishtadyumna fell upon the grief-drained Drona. The teacher’s arrows ran out, yet he showed a last valor, and Satyaki saved the dying Dhrishtadyumna.
Bhima’s hard words and Drona absorbed in yoga
Enraged by Satyaki’s feat, Duryodhana, Karna, Kripa, and other warriors began to surround him, but Yudhishthira, Nakula, Sahadeva, and Bhima closed around him to guard him. Then Dharmaraja Yudhishthira called out, “Great car-warriors, put forth all your strength and fall upon Kumbhaja! Prishata’s son is grappling with him, and by the look of him I think he will bring Drona down today. Unite, all of you, and fight.” Hearing this, the Srinjaya warriors rushed at Drona, and though he knew now for certain that he would die, the teacher faced them.
At that hour many evil omens broke out. The earth trembled, fierce winds blew that put fear into the ranks, and large meteors, seeming to issue from the sun, fell blazing to the ground. Drona’s chariot creaked harshly, and his horses shed tears. The teacher seemed drained of his energy, and his left eye and left arm began to twitch. Seeing Prishata’s son again before him, and recalling the rishis’ words about his passage to heaven, he grew cheerless and wished now to give up his life fighting fairly. Yet for the extermination of the Kshatriyas he had recourse once more to the Brahma weapon, and sent twenty-four thousand Kshatriyas and then ten times ten thousand more warriors to the abode of Yama.
Then Bhima, in great wrath, holding Drona’s chariot, said these words to him slowly and low. “If wretches among Brahmanas, discontented with the duties of their own order but well-versed in arms, did not fight, the Kshatriya order would not be exterminated like this. Abstention from injury to all creatures is said to be the highest of all virtues, and the Brahmana is the root of that virtue. You, of all men, are the foremost knower of Brahman. Yet for the sake of one son alone, from desire of wealth for sons and wives, you slaughter all these warriors. Do you feel no shame? He for whom you took up weapons, he for whom you live, lies today dead upon the field behind your back, unknown to you. King Yudhishthira the just has told you this. It does not become you to doubt it.”
At Bhima’s words Drona laid aside his bow. Wishing then to lay aside all his other weapons too, that teacher of virtuous soul said aloud, “Karna, O Karna! Great bowman! Kripa! Duryodhana! I tell you all again and again, exert yourselves carefully in battle, and guard yourselves from the Pandavas. As for me, I am laying aside my weapons.” Saying this, he began to call aloud the name of Ashvatthama. Laying down his weapons on the field, sitting on the terrace of his chariot, he gave himself to yoga and granted safety to all creatures, dispelling their fears.
Drona bent his face a little down, drew his chest forward, closed his eyes, and rested on the quality of goodness. Setting his heart on contemplation and thinking on the syllable “Om,” which stands for Brahman, he sank his mind into that supreme, ancient, indestructible god of gods, Vishnu. The sun-bright son of Bharadvaja set out for that heaven which even the pious reach only with difficulty. At that time it seemed there were two suns in the firmament, and the whole sky blazed as one vast expanse of even light.
A key to reading this (a concept): “Yoga” here means the meditative absorption in which a yogi, by his own will, raises his life-breath out of the body and merges it in the supreme Brahman. Drona’s sitting in “praya” (fixed by a vow to die) and his remembrance of “Om” show that, together with his weapons, he gave up the body of his own choice. His death and his soul’s passage to heaven are two faces of a single moment.
The gist: From Bhima’s hard words and grief for his son, Drona set down his bow and laid aside his weapons, and calling Ashvatthama’s name he sat in yoga on his chariot, his soul setting out to merge in Brahman.
The teacher’s head at Dhrishtadyumna’s hands, and Arjuna’s lament
Seeing his moment, Dhrishtadyumna gathered all his energy. Laying down on his chariot his formidable bow with its arrow fixed to the string, he took up a sword and, leaping from his vehicle, rushed at Drona. All creatures, human beings and others, uttered cries of woe to see Drona brought under Dhrishtadyumna’s power. On every side rose cries of “Oh” and “Alas,” of “Oh” and “Fie.” As for Drona, having abandoned his weapons, he was in a supremely tranquil state, that teacher of high ascetic merit holding his heart fixed on the supreme and ancient being, Vishnu.
All the heroes cried, “Drona must not be killed! He is not fit to be slain!” but Dhrishtadyumna paid no heed to any of them. Dhananjaya Arjuna leaped from his chariot, threw up his arms, and ran toward Prishata’s son, saying over and over, “You who know the ways of morality, do not slay the preceptor, bring him alive! He must not be killed!” Melted with pity, Arjuna repeated it again and again. But disregarding the cries of the Kauravas and of Arjuna alike, Dhrishtadyumna seized the head of the near-lifeless Drona with his left hand and lopped it from the trunk with his sword. The teacher was silent through it all.
Dark of complexion, with white locks hanging down to his ears, that old man of eighty-five years, who for your son Duryodhana’s sake alone had ranged the field with the activity of a youth of sixteen, now met his end. Cutting off Drona’s blood-covered head, Dhrishtadyumna roared like a lion in his joy, whirled his sword, and leaped from the chariot down to the ground. Drenched in blood, he looked red as the sun and exceedingly terrible. Then he flung the teacher’s great head down before the warriors of your army. Beholding it, your soldiers set their hearts on flight and ran away in all directions.
Sanjaya said that only five men could see Drona’s glory in yoga as he passed to the supreme region: Sanjaya himself, Arjuna the son of Pritha, Drona’s son Ashvatthama, Vasudeva of Vrishni’s race, and King Yudhishthira the just. No one else could see that the foe-crushing teacher, leaving behind a body pierced with arrows and bathed in blood after he had laid down his weapons, passed with the foremost of the rishis to that supreme region of Brahman, mysterious even to the gods. Sanjaya beheld this truth only through the grace of Vyasa’s son, Krishna Dvaipayana.
A sub-tale: Here the moral complexity of the Mahabharata stands at its peak. Drona was unarmed, absorbed in meditation, and had already granted safety to all beings. Dhrishtadyumna killed a yoga-fixed, weaponless old man, and so everyone reviled him and Arjuna tried to stop him. And yet the story also tells us that Drona had already given up the body himself, and that Dhrishtadyumna was only the instrument of the old enmity of Drupada, the very purpose for which he had been born. Who is the doer of the killing and who the mere instrument, Vyasa leaves open. Note too that Bhima had earlier sworn to Dhrishtadyumna to embrace him again as victor once Karna and Duryodhana were slain.
The moment Drona fell, the Kurus, the Pandavas, and the Srinjayas all lost heart and fled with great speed, and the army broke apart. Many had been killed, many wounded by keen shafts, and your warriors in particular seemed drained of life. Having suffered defeat and filled with fear about the future, the Kurus counted themselves cut off from both worlds and lost all self-control. On a field covered with thousands of headless trunks, the kings searched for Drona’s body but could not find it. The victorious Pandavas made loud sounds with their arrows and conches and uttered leonine roars. Then Bhimasena embraced Dhrishtadyumna and said, “Son of Prishata, I will embrace you again, crowned with victory, when that wretch of a suta’s son and that other wretch, Duryodhana, are slain in battle.” Then, filled with joy, Bhima slapped his arms, and at that terrible sound your soldiers forgot the duties of the Kshatriya and fled the more.
A key to reading this (a place): “Brahmaloka,” the supreme region of Brahman, is the highest goal, won by yoga and tapas, standing above even the ordinary heavens. Drona’s passage to that region is said to be the fruit of his Brahmanahood, his tapas, and his final absorption in yoga, even though the end of his body came about by deceit.
The gist: Though Arjuna and all the rest forbade it, Dhrishtadyumna cut off the head of the yoga-fixed, unarmed Drona. The teacher’s soul went to Brahmaloka, and the moment the commander fell, the Kaurava army scattered in fear.
The rout of the Kaurava army, and Ashvatthama learns the truth
At Drona’s fall the Kauravas, robbed of their leader, broken and routed, grew listless with grief. Their eyes filled with tears and their hearts with fear, they gathered around your son like small animals struck with terror, resembling the Daityas of old after the fall of Hiranyaksha. Afflicted with hunger and thirst and scorched by the sun, your warriors lost all heart. The fall of Bharadvaja’s son seemed to them like the sun dropping to the earth, the drying up of the ocean, or the transplantation of Meru, and the Kauravas fled in fear, terror lending them greater speed.
Shakuni, the ruler of the Gandharas, fled with the warriors of his division at even greater speed. Karna the suta’s son too fled, taking his own vast division. Shalya the Madra king, Kripa the son of Sharadvat (crying “Alas! Alas!”), Kritavarma, Uluka, Duhshasana, and Vrishasena with ten thousand chariots and three thousand elephants, all fled at the sight of Drona’s fall. Duryodhana too fled, taking with him the remnant of the Samshaptakas, and Susharma fled as well. With dishevelled hair and loosened armor, casting off their weapons and garments, the warriors fled in such a way that no two could be seen running together. “The Kuru army is utterly destroyed,” every one of them believed.
In the midst of that fleeing army, only Drona’s son Ashvatthama, like a huge alligator swimming up against the current of a stream, fell upon the foe. A fierce battle broke out between him and the warriors headed by Shikhandin, the Prabhadrakas, the Panchalas, the Chedis, and the Kaikeyas. Having killed many warriors hard to defeat, and moving with the tread of an infuriated elephant, he saw the host resolved on flight. Going to Duryodhana, he said, “Bharata, why do the troops fly as if in fear? Why do you not rally them? You too do not seem to be in your usual frame of mind. Upon the slaughter of what lion among car-warriors has your force fallen into this plight? Even Karna and the others no longer hold the field. Has some calamity befallen your soldiers, Bharata?”
Hearing these words of Drona’s son, Duryodhana could not bring himself to give the bitter news. He sank into an ocean of grief like a foundering boat, and his eyes filled with tears. Suffused with shame, the king told Kripa, the son of Sharadvat, to say why the army was fleeing. Then Kripa, feeling great anguish again and again, told Drona’s son how his father had been slain.
Kripa said, “Placing Drona at our head, we began to fight only the Panchalas. Your father, filled with rage, invoked the Brahma weapon and killed his enemies by thousands. He sent a thousand brave warriors and two thousand elephants to the abode of Yama. Dark of complexion, with gray locks hanging to his ears, and full eighty-five years old, Drona fought like a youth of sixteen. Then Madhusudana Krishna, desiring the Pandavas’ victory, said that this best of all wielders of arms could not be vanquished in battle even by Indra the slayer of Vritra, and that they must lay aside righteousness and look to victory, or Drona of the golden chariot would kill them all. Let someone, he said, tell Drona the lie that Ashvatthama had been slain. Arjuna would not accept it, but all the rest, and Yudhishthira with difficulty, accepted it. Bhima, with a tinge of shame, said that Ashvatthama was killed, but your father did not believe him. Then your father, so affectionate toward you, asked Yudhishthira whether you were truly dead. Torn between fear of a lie and desire for victory, keeping in mind the mountain-huge elephant named Ashvatthama, belonging to Indravarma the Malava chief, that Bhima had slain, Yudhishthira told Drona that Ashvatthama was killed, adding the word ‘elephant’ in a low voice. Hearing of his son’s death, Drona began to wail, held back his celestial weapons and fought no longer as before, and at last, abandoning all his weapons, sat in praya on the field. Then Prishata’s son, disregarding the loud protests of everyone and of Arjuna, seized his head with his left hand and cut it off. This is why the army flees, and we with it.”
Hearing of the unrighteous killing of his father, Ashvatthama, like a snake struck by the foot, filled with fierce wrath. He blazed up like a fire fed with a great quantity of fuel. He squeezed his hands, ground his teeth, breathed like a snake, and his eyes turned red as blood.
A key to reading this (lineage): Ashvatthama was the son of Drona and Kripi, the daughter of Sharadvat, so he is called “the son of Sharadvat’s daughter” and “Drona’s son.” Kripa, Sharadvat’s son, was his maternal uncle. Drona had given this only son of his the whole science of celestial weapons he had received from Parashurama. Now that same Ashvatthama rose up to avenge his father’s killing.
The gist: At the commander’s fall the Kaurava army broke and fled. Only Ashvatthama held firm, and hearing from Kripa the whole account of the half-truth and the unrighteous killing, he blazed with the fierce fire of vengeance.
The fifth day’s afternoon: Drona’s irresistible fury
Sanjaya was recounting all this to Dhritarashtra. Great king, that day on the field Acharya Drona blazed like the very form of the destroyer at the close of an age. Eighty-five years old, dark of complexion, with white locks hanging to his ears, he still moved on his chariot with the quickness of a youth of sixteen. For four days and one night he had rained down arrows without pause, and his quiver had not run dry. Only in the third watch of the fifth day did his arrows begin to fail.
The teacher invoked the Brahma weapon, the divine missile of Brahma. With that one weapon he sent thousands of warriors and elephants to the abode of Yama. Sanjaya counted them: twenty-four thousand Kshatriyas he cut down, and then ten times ten thousand more he despatched to the house of Yama with his keen-pointed shafts. Whatever Pandava, Kaikeya, Matsya, or Panchala came near his chariot was destroyed. He shone like the midday sun, on which no eye can rest.
Then Krishna of Madhu’s line, who desired the Pandava’s victory, said a grave thing to Yudhishthira. He said that Acharya Drona was foremost of all who bear arms, and that if he fought on in his rage for even half a day more, then, he swore truly, their whole army would come to its end. They must save themselves from Drona. In such a crisis, untruth stands above truth. One who speaks untruth to save a life is not bound by sin. Untruth spoken about a woman, in a marriage, in a king’s protection, or to rescue a Brahmana is not counted a sin.
A key to reading this (a concept): Here the Mahabharata shows its moral depth. Krishna himself names five exceptions in which untruth is pardonable. This is a plain picture of the crisis in which the very definition of dharma trembles. The text hides none of it. It sets before you the price at which the victory was bought.
The elephant named Ashvatthama and Bhima’s deceit
Then Bhimasena, addressing Maharaja Yudhishthira, said that the moment he heard by what means the great Drona could be killed, he put forth his prowess and struck down a huge elephant. That elephant was vast as Indra’s own Airavata and belonged to Indravarma, lord of the Malavas, and it stood within your own army. The elephant’s name was Ashvatthama. Then he went to Drona and told him, “Brahmana, Ashvatthama is killed. Now cease to fight.” But the teacher would not believe his word.
Bhima went on, “King, if you desire victory, accept the counsel of Govinda. Tell the teacher that the son of Sharadvan’s daughter is no more. That best of Brahmanas will never take your word for false, for in the three worlds you are famed as a speaker of truth.”
Moved by these words of Bhima, induced by the counsel of Krishna, and driven by the inevitability of destiny, Yudhishthira made up his mind. He was afraid to speak untruth, but his desire for victory was strong. He said in a clear voice that Ashvatthama was killed, and then, in a low and indistinct voice, added the word “elephant.” To Drona he said, “He for whom you take up weapons, he looking upon whom you live, your dear son Ashvatthama has been killed. Deprived of life, he lies on the bare earth like a young lion.”
A key to reading this (a concept): The story says that before this untruth Yudhishthira’s chariot ran four fingers’ breadth above the earth, the sign of his truth. After that half-truth moment his chariot and horses touched the ground. One small deceit, and Dharmaraja’s uncanny elevation was gone for good. This is the scale on which the Mahabharata weighs a life.
When Drona heard it, grief for the supposed death of his son overwhelmed him and he yielded to despair. The words of the rishis were coming back to him too, by which he had begun to think himself a great offender against those high-souled Pandavas. Hearing now of his son’s death, he grew wholly cheerless and filled with anxiety. And when he beheld Dhrishtadyumna before him, that teacher could no longer fight as before.
Drona and Dhrishtadyumna: the swordsmanship of a chariotless warrior
Seeing Drona thus sunk in anxiety and almost bereft of his senses by grief, Dhrishtadyumna, son of the Panchala king, rushed at him. Drupada had obtained this hero at a great sacrifice, from Agni the eater of oblations, for this very purpose, that he become Drona’s slayer. He took up a victory-giving, formidable bow whose twang was like the roll of clouds, and fixed on it a fierce arrow like a snake of virulent poison.
Seeing that blazing arrow taking aim, the teacher thought that the last hour of his body had come. He wished to make the arrow vain, but his celestial weapons no longer appeared at his call. Then, taking up another celestial bow that Angiras had given him, and arrows like a Brahmana’s curse, he fought on. He covered Dhrishtadyumna with a thick shower of arrows, cut his shafts, standard, and bow into a hundred pieces each, and pierced his driver as well.
Dhrishtadyumna, smiling, took up a second bow and drove a keen arrow into the center of Drona’s chest. Drona once more cut off his bow, then severed all his weapons and bows, leaving only his mace and sword, and pierced the enraged Panchala with nine life-taking arrows. Dhrishtadyumna invoked the Brahma weapon and mingled his own horses with the enemy’s. Those red and dove-colored horses looked like roaring clouds charged with lightning in the season of rains.
Drona cut off the axle, the wheels, and the joints of Dhrishtadyumna’s chariot. Deprived of bow, chariot, horses, and driver, the hero Dhrishtadyumna grasped a mace, but Drona cut even that down with his arrows as it was about to be hurled. Then that tiger among men took up a spotless sword and a bright shield decked with a hundred moons.
Now the chariotless Dhrishtadyumna, sword and shield in hand, showed marvelous skill. He would shelter in the chariot box, mount the chariot shaft, and slip beneath the haunches of Drona’s red horses. He showed the well-known twenty-one kinds of motion: wheeling about, whirling the sword on high, thrusting from the flank, rushing forward, leaping high, striking to the side, drawing back, and closing again with his foe. He showed the arts called Bharata, Kaushika, and Satvata. The gods and the warriors alike were filled with wonder to see it.
Drona, shooting a thousand arrows, cut off Dhrishtadyumna’s sword and his hundred-mooned shield. In such close fighting Drona used arrows a span in length, which serve only in close combat, and which none but Kripa, Partha, Ashvatthama, Karna, Pradyumna, Yuyudhana, and Abhimanyu possessed. Then the teacher, wishing to slay his beloved disciple who was to him as his own son, fixed a swift arrow to his bow. But Satyaki cut that arrow away with ten of his own, before the eyes of your son and of the great Karna, and rescued Dhrishtadyumna from the very mouth of death.
The gist: Drona alone disarmed Dhrishtadyumna again and again, but grief had settled inside him. Satyaki, saving the Panchala prince, held off the final struggle a few moments longer. Keshava and Dhananjaya, seeing Satyaki’s skill, praised him aloud, “Excellent, excellent.”
Satyaki surrounded, and Drona’s final resolve
Enraged by Satyaki’s feat, Duryodhana and the rest quickly surrounded the grandson of Sini on all sides. Kripa, Karna, and your sons rained keen arrows on him. Then Yudhishthira, the two sons of Madri, and the mighty Bhimasena ringed Satyaki to protect him. Satyaki alone, with his own celestial weapons, checked that terrible arrow-storm of all those car-warriors. The field filled with cruel sights. Severed arms, heads, and bows, displaced umbrellas, and yak-tail whisks lay in heaps.
Then Dharmaraja Yudhishthira gave his warriors the order, “Great car-warriors, put forth all your vigor and rush upon Kumbhaja, the pot-born! There the hero, Prishata’s son, is engaged with Drona. By the look of him, it is evident that in his rage he will overthrow Drona today. Unite, all of you, and fight the pot-born.” So ordered, the mighty Srinjaya car-warriors rushed at Drona.
Drona too, knowing for certain that he would now die, rushed swiftly against those warriors. As he advanced, the earth trembled violently, fierce winds blew, and large meteors, seeming to issue from the sun, fell blazing to the ground. The teacher’s weapons seemed to blaze forth, his chariot creaked harshly, and his horses shed tears. His left eye and left arm twitched. Recalling the rishis’ words about his passage to heaven, he grew cheerless and resolved that he would now give up his life fighting fairly.
That day Drona despatched twenty-four thousand Kshatriyas, and then a hundred thousand more warriors, to the house of Yama with his keen shafts. For the extermination of the Kshatriya race he had recourse once more to the Brahma weapon. Then Bhima lifted the chariotless, weaponless Dhrishtadyumna onto his own chariot and said, “Save you, there is no other man who dares to fight the teacher. Be quick to kill him. The burden of his slaughter rests upon you.”
Thus urged by Bhima, Dhrishtadyumna took up a strong new bow that could bear a great strain and began to rain arrows on Drona. Both warriors invoked the Brahma weapon and many other celestial weapons. Drona once more cut off the Panchala’s bow and pierced his vital points with many arrows.
Bhima’s hard words and the rishis’ teaching of dharma
Then the greatly enraged Bhima, holding Drona’s chariot, said these hard words in a low voice. “If wretches among Brahmanas, discontented with their own dharma but well-versed in arms, did not fight, the Kshatriya line would not be exterminated like this. Abstention from injury to all creatures is called the highest of virtues, and the Brahmana is the root of that virtue. You are the foremost knower of Brahman. From desire of wealth for son and wife, for the sake of one son alone, slaying all these Mlecchas and warriors, do you feel no shame? He for whom you took up weapons, he for whom you live, lies today lifeless on the field behind your back, unknown to you. King Yudhishthira the just has told you this. It does not become you to doubt it.”
At Bhima’s words Drona laid aside his bow. Ready to lay aside all his weapons, that righteous son of Bharadvaja called aloud, “Karna, O Karna! Great bowman! Kripa! Duryodhana! I tell you all again and again, exert your prowess in battle with care. Let no harm come to you from the Pandavas. As for me, I am laying aside my weapons.” Saying this, he called aloud the name of Ashvatthama.
Laying down his weapons, he sat on the terrace of his chariot and gave himself to yoga, granting safety to all creatures. Then the rishis appeared before him and said, “You are fighting unrighteously. Your time in this world is now full. With the Brahma weapon you have burned even men who did not know the science of arms. Twice-born one, this deed is not righteous. Lay aside your weapons without delay. Do not perpetrate so sinful an act.”
Hearing these words of the rishis and of Bhima, and seeing Dhrishtadyumna before him, Drona grew deeply cheerless. Burning with grief, he asked Kunti’s son Yudhishthira whether his son Ashvatthama had been killed or not. Drona firmly believed that Yudhishthira would not speak an untruth even for the sovereignty of the three worlds. For this reason he asked Yudhishthira alone, and no one else. From Yudhishthira’s infancy he had looked to him for truth.
A sub-tale: At this very moment Krishna repeated to Yudhishthira that if Drona fought even half a day more the Pandava army would be finished, and that untruth spoken to save a life is no sin. Note that Drona deliberately put the question to Yudhishthira alone, since he was the one man from whose mouth Drona could not imagine a lie coming. The blow of the half-truth fell on precisely that trust.
Yudhishthira, though he well knew the evil fruits of untruth, from desire for victory and fear of death, said the same thing again. He added the word “elephant” indistinctly after the name of Ashvatthama. Hearing this from Yudhishthira’s mouth, the great car-warrior Drona, stricken with grief for the supposed death of his son, yielded to the power of despair.
The teacher rapt in yoga, and Dhrishtadyumna’s sword
Seeing Drona thus sunk in anxiety and almost senseless with grief, Dhrishtadyumna gathered all his strength. Laying down on his chariot his formidable bow with its fixed arrow, he took up a sword and, leaping from his vehicle, ran swiftly at Drona. Seeing Drona fall into Dhrishtadyumna’s power, all creatures, human beings and others, cried out in horror. From every side rose the sounds of “Alas” and “Fie.”
The teacher at that time had laid aside his weapons and was in a supremely tranquil state. Of great splendor and high ascetic merit, he had fixed his heart on that eternal and ancient being, Vishnu. Bending his face a little down, drawing his chest forward, closing his eyes, resting on the quality of goodness, and thinking on the syllable Om, he was rapt in yoga. Sunk in that meditation, Drona of high ascetic merit set out for that heaven which even the pious reach only with difficulty.
It seemed to us there were two suns in the sky. The whole firmament filled with light as the sun-bright Bharadvaja vanished from there. Confused sounds of joy were heard, uttered by the delighted gods. When Drona went to Brahmaloka, Dhrishtadyumna stood beside him, unconscious of it all. Great king, among men only five beheld the yoga-rapt Drona passing to the supreme abode: I, Sanjaya, and Dhananjaya, and Ashvatthama, and Vasudeva, and Dharmaraja Yudhishthira. No one else saw that glory. The teacher’s body, pierced with arrows and bathed in blood, its weapons laid aside, lay quiet on the earth.
Then Prishata’s son, though everyone cried fie on him, cast his eyes on the head of the lifeless Drona and began to drag it. Then with his sword he cut that head from the trunk of the foe who remained silent at that time. Having slain Bharadvaja’s son, Dhrishtadyumna filled with great joy and, whirling his sword, roared like a lion.
Before the head was cut off, the mighty-armed Dhananjaya had cried out, “Son of Drupada, bring the teacher alive, do not slay him, he must not be killed.” The whole army had cried out the same. Arjuna in particular, melted with pity, had cried out again and again. But disregarding the protests of Arjuna and of all the kings, Dhrishtadyumna slew Drona on the terrace of his chariot. Covered with Drona’s blood, Dhrishtadyumna leaped from the chariot down to the ground, red as the sun and exceedingly terrible. Then he flung the great head of Bharadvaja’s son before the warriors of your army.
A key to reading this (the numbers): Drona was eighty-five years old, and yet he fought like a youth of sixteen. Only five men witnessed his passage in yoga. In a modern comparison, this is the scene where the commander of a nation, still at the full of his strength, sets down his arms under a psychological blow, the news of his son’s death, and is killed in that very moment. The line between the ethics of war and outright deceit blurs right here.
The rout of the Kaurava army and the flight of its commanders
Your soldiers, beholding the head of Bharadvaja’s son, set their hearts on flight and ran away in all directions. Meanwhile Drona, ascending the skies, entered the path of the stars. Great king, through the grace of Krishna Dvaipayana, the son of Satyavati, and by the favor of the rishis, I saw the true circumstances of Drona’s death. I beheld that splendid one, after he had ascended the sky, going like a smokeless brand of blazing splendor.
Upon Drona’s fall the Kurus, the Pandavas, and the Srinjayas all became cheerless and fled with great speed. The army broke up. Many had been killed, and many wounded by keen shafts. Your warriors, upon Drona’s fall, seemed to be deprived of life. Having suffered defeat and filled with fear about the future, the Kauravas regarded themselves cut off from both worlds. They lost all self-control. On the field, covered with thousands of headless trunks, the kings searched for the body of Bharadvaja’s son but could not find it.
The Pandavas, having gained the victory and great prospects of future renown, made loud sounds with their arrows and conches and uttered leonine roars. Then Bhimasena and Prishata’s son Dhrishtadyumna were seen embracing each other in the midst of the Pandava host. Bhima said to Dhrishtadyumna, “Son of Prishata, I will embrace you again as one crowned with victory, when that wretch of a suta’s son and that other wretch, Duryodhana, are slain in battle.” Saying this, Bhima in his joy slapped his arms, and the earth trembled.
Upon Drona’s fall the Kaurava army, deprived of its leader, broken and routed, grew weak with grief. Covered with dust, trembling with fear, their throats dry, they resembled the Daityas of old after the fall of Hiranyaksha. Your son Duryodhana could not hold his place among them.
Shakuni, the ruler of the Gandharas, seeing Drona of the golden chariot slain, fled with his troops at even greater speed. Karna the suta’s son too fled in fear, taking with him his vast division. Shalya, the ruler of the Madras, casting empty looks around, fled with his division teeming with chariots, elephants, and horses. Kripa, Sharadvat’s son, crying “Alas, alas,” fled with the remnant of his elephants and foot-soldiers. Kritavarma fled on his swift steeds, surrounded by the remnants of his Bhoja, Kalinga, Aratta, and Bahlika troops. Uluka, afflicted with fear, fled with a large body of foot-soldiers. Duhshasana, in great anxiety, fled surrounded by his elephant division.
Vrishasena fled with speed, taking ten thousand chariots and three thousand elephants. The great car-warrior Duryodhana, surrounded by elephants, horses, chariots, and foot-soldiers, fled with the remnant of the Samshaptakas whom Arjuna had not yet slaughtered. Susharma too fled, beholding Drona slain. Riding elephants, chariots, and horses, all the warriors of the Kaurava army fled the field at the sight of Drona of the golden chariot slain. With dishevelled hair and loosened armor, they fled in such a way that no two could be seen running together. “The Kuru army has been totally destroyed,” this was the belief of every one of them.
The gist: The moment the teacher’s head fell to the earth, the whole morale of the Kaurava camp shattered. Every great commander, Shakuni, Karna, Shalya, Kripa, Kritavarma, Uluka, Duhshasana, Vrishasena, Duryodhana, and Susharma, fled with his division. On the Pandava side, Bhima and Dhrishtadyumna shared a victory embrace, but Bhima said plainly that the celebration would be complete only when Karna and Duryodhana too were slain.
Ashvatthama’s grief and rage: his vow before Duryodhana
While all the armies fled with speed, only Drona’s son Ashvatthama, like a huge alligator coming up against the current of a stream, fell upon his foes. A fierce battle broke out among the warriors headed by Shikhandin, the Prabhadrakas, the Panchalas, the Chedis, and the Kaikeyas. Then that hero, with the tread of an infuriated elephant, saw that the Kaurava host was resolved on flight. He came to Duryodhana and said, “Bharata, why do the troops fly as if in fear? Why do you not rally them? You too do not seem to be in your usual frame of mind. Upon the slaughter of what lion among car-warriors has your force fallen into this plight? Has some calamity befallen your soldiers, Bharata?”
Hearing these words of Ashvatthama, Duryodhana could not give the bitter news. Like a boat foundering in an ocean of grief, he was bathed in tears. Suffused with shame, the king told the son of Sharadvat, “You tell why the army is flying away.” Then Kripa, feeling great anguish again and again, told Drona’s son how his father had been slain.
Kripa said, “We began the fight against the Panchalas with Drona at our head. Your father, filled with rage, invoked the Brahma weapon and killed his enemies by thousands. He sent a thousand brave warriors and two thousand elephants to the house of Yama. But when the enemy began to turn back, Madhusudana said to the Pandavas that this foremost wielder of arms could not be vanquished in battle even by Indra. Sons of Pandu, he said, lay aside righteousness and guard your victory, or Drona of the golden chariot will slay you all. My thought is, he said, that Drona will not fight after Ashvatthama’s fall. Let someone tell him the lie that Ashvatthama has been slain.”
Kripa went on, “Hearing this, Kunti’s son Dhananjaya would not accept it. But all the rest, and with difficulty Yudhishthira, accepted it. Then Bhimasena, with a tinge of shame, told your father, ‘Ashvatthama has been slain.’ But your father did not believe him. Suspecting the news to be false, out of affection for you, your father asked Yudhishthira whether you were really dead or not.”
From fear of a lie, yet desirous of victory, Yudhishthira, keeping in mind that huge elephant, mountain-vast and named Ashvatthama, belonging to Indravarma the Malava chief and slain by Bhima, told Drona, “Best of Brahmanas, he for whom you wield weapons, he looking upon whom you live, your dear son Ashvatthama has been slain, and lies on the bare earth like a young lion.” Aware full well of the evil consequences of falsehood, the king added the word “elephant” indistinctly after the name Ashvatthama.
Hearing of his son’s fall, Drona began to wail. Restraining his celestial weapons, he fought no longer as before. Beholding him sunk in anxiety and almost senseless, the cruel-deeded Panchala prince rushed at him. Seeing before him the prince ordained as his slayer, Drona, versed in all the truths of men and things, abandoned his celestial weapons and sat in praya, the fast unto death, on the field. Then Prishata’s son, seizing Drona’s head with his left hand and disregarding the loud protests of all the heroes, cut it off. “Drona must not be killed,” rose the cry from every side. Arjuna too leaped from his chariot, arms upraised, and ran, saying, “You who know the ways of morality, do not slay the teacher, bring him alive.” But despite the protests of the Kauravas and of Arjuna, Dhrishtadyumna killed your father-like teacher. It is from fear of this that the army flees, and we too, in deep cheerlessness, do the same.
Hearing of his father’s killing, Drona’s son, like a snake struck by the foot, filled with fierce wrath. He blazed up like a fire fed with a great quantity of fuel. Squeezing his hands, grinding his teeth, and breathing like a snake, his eyes turned red as blood.
A sub-tale: Dhritarashtra asked Sanjaya who Ashvatthama was. Sanjaya said he was the equal of Karna in the science of weapons, of Purandara (Indra) in battle, of Kartavirya in energy, and of Brihaspati in wisdom. In fortitude he was a mountain, in energy a fire, in gravity an ocean, and in wrath the venom of a snake. Drona, having gained the science of arms from Rama (Parashurama), had imparted all the celestial weapons to his son. And it was ordained too that, just as Yajnasena’s son was fixed as the slayer of Drona, so Ashvatthama was fixed as the slayer of Dhrishtadyumna.
The gist: Kripa told Ashvatthama the whole story: the Brahma weapon, Krishna’s counsel, Bhima’s killing of the elephant, Yudhishthira’s half-truth, Drona’s praya-vow, and Dhrishtadyumna’s sword. Hearing it, Ashvatthama’s grief turned into fierce rage, and the next chapter moves toward his terrible vow and the Narayana weapon.
Ashvatthama’s vow and the tale of the Narayana weapon
Repeatedly wiping his tearful eyes and breathing hot sighs in his rage, Ashvatthama said to Duryodhana, “I have now learned how those low wretches made my father lay aside his weapons and killed him, and what a sinful act Yudhishthira, wearing only the outward garb of virtue, has done. For one engaged in battle, one of two things must happen, victory or defeat. Death in battle is always to be applauded. One who dies fighting under circumstances of righteousness is not to be mourned, so the sages have observed. Without doubt my father has gone to the region of heroes, and for that I do not grieve.”
“But the humiliation he bore, the seizure of his locks in the very sight of all the troops while he was righteously engaged in battle, is tearing the very core of my heart. My father’s locks were seized while I, his son, am alive. Then why should the childless entertain any desire for children? The cruel, wicked-souled son of Prishata perpetrated this most sinful act in total disregard of me. Dhrishtadyumna shall therefore surely suffer the dreadful consequence of that act, and so shall that false-speeched son of Pandu who acted so wrongly. Today the earth shall certainly drink the blood of that King Yudhishthira the just, who by an act of deceit caused the teacher to lay aside his weapons.”
Ashvatthama said, “I swear by truth, O Kauravya, and by my acts of dharma, that I shall never bear the burden of life if I fail to exterminate the Panchalas. By every means, mild or violent, before peace becomes mine I shall effect the destruction of all the Panchalas. That base Dhrishtadyumna, the injurer of friends, of Brahmanas, and of his own teacher, I shall surely slay in battle. Today neither the gods, nor the gandharvas, nor the asuras, the uragas, and the rakshasas, nor the foremost of men, shall be able to vanquish me on my chariot in battle. In the knowledge of weapons there is none in the world equal to me and Arjuna.”
Then Ashvatthama told the tale of the Narayana weapon. “Once, assuming the form of a Brahmana, Narayana came to my father. Bowing to him, my father presented his offerings in due form. Taking them, the divine Lord offered him a boon. My father then solicited that supreme weapon called Narayana. The foremost of all the gods said, ‘No man shall ever become your equal in battle. But this weapon should never be used in haste. It never returns without effecting the destruction of the foe. I know none whom it cannot slay; it would slay even the unslayable. So it should not be used without the greatest deliberation. Upon those who abandon their chariots or weapons in battle, upon those who seek for quarter, or upon those who yield themselves up, this weapon must never be hurled. He who seeks to strike the unslayable with it is himself sorely afflicted by it.’”
Ashvatthama said, “Thus my father received that weapon. Then Lord Narayana, addressing me also, said, ‘With the aid of this weapon you too shall pour diverse showers of celestial weapons in battle and blaze with energy.’ Saying these words, the divine Lord ascended to heaven. This is the history of the Narayana weapon, which has now come to my father’s son. With it I shall rout and slay the Pandavas, the Panchalas, the Matsyas, and the Kaikeyas in battle, as the lord of Sachi routs and slays the asuras. That wretch among the Panchalas, Dhrishtadyumna, the injurer of friends, of Brahmanas, and of his own teacher, shall never escape me today with his life.”
Hearing these words of Drona’s son, the Kuru army rallied once more. Many of the foremost men blew their gigantic conches. Filled with delight, they beat their drums and kettledrums by the thousand. The earth, afflicted by the hooves of steeds and the wheels of cars, resounded with that din. Hearing that uproar, deep as the roll of clouds, the foremost of the Pandava car-warriors gathered together and took counsel of one another. And having spoken those words, Ashvatthama touched water and invoked the celestial weapon called Narayana.
The gist: In the rage born of grief, Ashvatthama swore three vows: to kill Dhrishtadyumna, to exterminate all the Panchalas, and to avenge himself on the deceitful Yudhishthira. Then he told the origin-tale of the Narayana weapon, along with its warning that the weapon is never loosed on one who has laid down his arms or sought refuge. The seed of the coming story lies hidden in that very rule. Then he touched water and released the great weapon, and a mighty upheaval broke out across nature.
Source: The Mahabharata (Krishna Dvaipayana Vyasa), Drona Parva; the Gita Press, Gorakhpur tradition.
Basis: The Mahabharata, Vedavyasa (Gita Press, Gorakhpur)