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When Drona saw that the sons of Dhritarashtra and the sons of Pandu had finished their training in arms, he went to King Dhritarashtra and, in the presence of Kripa, Somadatta, Bahlika, the wise son of Ganga (Bhishma), Vyasa, and Vidura, said, “Best of Kuru kings, your children have completed their education. With your leave, let them now show what they can do.” The king heard this with a glad heart and answered, “Best of Brahmanas, you have truly done a great thing. Choose the place, the time, and the manner of the trial yourself. The grief my blindness brings me makes me envy the men who, blessed with sight, will watch my children’s skill in arms. Kshatta,” he said to Vidura, “do everything Drona asks. O you who are devoted to virtue, nothing could be more welcome to me than this.”
Building the Arena
Vidura gave the king the assurance he needed and went out to see it done. Drona, whose mind was equal to any task, measured out a stretch of ground that was clear of trees and undergrowth and well supplied with wells and springs (the natural sources of water). On that measured plot, best of eloquent men that he was, Drona chose a lunar day (a day fixed by the reckoning of the moon) when the star ascendant stood in a favorable place, and before the citizens, gathered by public proclamation to witness it, he offered sacrifice to the gods.
After that the king’s artisans raised a broad and handsome stage on the spot, following the rules laid down in the scriptures, and furnished it with weapons of every kind. They built a second graceful hall for the women who would watch. The townspeople put up many platforms of their own, and the wealthiest among them pitched wide, high tents on every side.
A key to reading this (concept): The arena, the rangabhumi, is the open ground where the princes display their skill in arms before the public. Picture something like a royal exhibition field, with tiered stands for the crowd, a separate hall for the women, and tents pitched around for the notables.
When the appointed day arrived, the king came out with his ministers, and with Bhishma and Kripa, the foremost of teachers, walking ahead of him, to that arena of almost divine beauty, built of pure gold and hung with strings of pearls and set with stones of lapis lazuli. Gandhari, blessed with great good fortune, and Kunti, and the other women of the royal house, dressed in their finest and attended by their waiting women, climbed the platforms with delight, the way the women of heaven climb the slopes of Mount Sumeru. All four orders, Brahmanas and Kshatriyas among them, left the city and came running to the ground, eager to watch the princes’ skill in arms. Everyone was so impatient for the spectacle that the great crowd gathered there in what seemed a single moment. With the blare of trumpets and drums and the din of many voices, that mass of people looked like an ocean whipped into motion.
The gist: With Dhritarashtra’s leave, Drona had a magnificent arena built. On the appointed day the king, Bhishma, Kripa, the women of the royal house, and the townspeople of all four orders poured in to watch the display of arms, and the assembly heaved like a rising sea.
Drona and the Princes Enter
At last Drona came into the arena with his son, dressed in white, wearing a white sacred thread, his hair white, his beard white, white garlands on him and white sandal paste rubbed over his body. It was as if the Moon had appeared in a clear sky with the planet Mars beside him. As he entered, the son of Bharadwaja performed the worship the moment called for and had Brahmanas skilled in mantras carry out the auspicious rites. When sweet-sounding instruments had been struck up as a rite of peace, men came in carrying an array of weapons.
Then, with their loins girded, those mighty warriors, those best of Bharata’s line, came in wearing finger-guards (the leather gauntlet that protects the fingers), carrying bows and quivers. With Yudhishthira at their head, the brave princes entered in order of age and began to show off wonderful skill with their weapons. Some in the crowd ducked their heads, afraid the arrows would fall on them, while others watched without fear, lost in wonder. Riding hard and handling their horses with ease, the princes pierced the marks with shafts cut with their own names. Watching the prowess of the princes with their bows and arrows, the spectators felt they were looking at the city of the gandharvas, and amazement filled them. All at once, hundreds and thousands of them, eyes wide with wonder, cried out, “Well done! Well done!”
Having shown their skill with bow and arrow and in the handling of their cars again and again, the mighty warriors took up their swords and shields and ranged across the lists, working their weapons. The onlookers marveled at their quickness, the balance of their bodies, their grace, their steadiness, the firmness of their grip, and their deftness with sword and shield. Then Vrikodara (Bhima, the wolf-bellied) and Suyodhana (Duryodhana), each inwardly pleased at the prospect of a fight, came down into the arena mace in hand, like two single-peaked mountains. Those mighty-armed warriors braced their loins, gathered all their strength, and roared like two rutting elephants fighting over a cow, and, faultless by the rules of the science of arms, they circled the lists, wheeling right and left. And Vidura described every one of the princes’ feats to Dhritarashtra, and to Kunti, the mother of the Pandavas, and to Gandhari.
A key to reading this (names): Vrikodara, Suyodhana, Phalguna, Vibhatsu, Partha, Dhananjaya, Jishnu, and Kiritin are many names for the same few men. Vrikodara is a name for Bhima. Suyodhana is Duryodhana. Phalguna, Vibhatsu, Partha (the son of Pritha, that is, Kunti), Dhananjaya, and Jishnu are all names for Arjuna. In Vyasa’s telling a single hero is called by different names as the occasion suits.
The gist: Dressed all in white, Drona entered with Ashvatthama, had the rites performed, and, with Yudhishthira at their head, the princes displayed their skill in arms in order of age. At the last, Bhima and Duryodhana came down with maces to close like two rutting elephants.
Bhima and Duryodhana’s Mace Bout
The moment Duryodhana, king of the Kurus, and Bhima, first among all men in strength, stepped down into the arena, the spectators split into two camps, each swayed by where its affection lay. Some shouted, “Look at the heroic king of the Kurus!” Others called back, “Look at Bhima!” From these cries a sudden, huge uproar broke out. Seeing the place turn into a troubled sea, the wise son of Bharadwaja said to his dear son Ashvatthama, “Hold back these two mighty warriors, so skilled in arms. Do not let this clash of Bhima and Duryodhana rouse the anger of the assembly.”
Then the teacher’s son held back the two combatants, their maces raised, looking like two swollen oceans lashed by the winds that blow at the end of the world. And Drona himself walked into the middle of the arena, ordered the musicians to stop, and in a voice as deep as thunder said, “Now look on that Partha, who is dearer to me than my own son, the master of every weapon, the son of Indra himself, and like the younger brother of Indra, Vishnu.”
The gist: The mace bout of Bhima and Duryodhana split the assembly into two camps and set it heaving. Drona had Ashvatthama pull the two apart, then stepped into the middle and called Arjuna into the arena.
Arjuna’s Display of Arms
With the rites of peace complete, young Phalguna appeared in the arena wearing his finger-guard, a quiver full of arrows and his bow in hand, clad in golden mail, like an evening cloud that catches the rays of the setting sun and glows with the colors of the rainbow and flashes of lightning. The moment they saw Arjuna the whole assembly rejoiced, and conches and other instruments sounded on every side. A great clamor rose from the spectators as they shouted, “This is the graceful son of Kunti!” “This is the middle Pandava, the third!” “This is the son of mighty Indra!” “This is the protector of the Kurus!” “This is the foremost of those versed in arms!” At these cries the tears running from Kunti’s eyes mixed with the milk of her breasts and wet her bosom.
His ears full of that clamor, Dhritarashtra, best of men, turned to Vidura in delight and asked, “Kshatta, what is this great roar, like a troubled ocean, that has risen all at once and seems to tear the very heavens?” Vidura answered, “Great king, Phalguna, the son of Pandu and Pritha, has entered the lists in his mail. That is the reason for this roar.” Dhritarashtra said, “O you of great soul, by the three fires sprung from Pritha, who is like the sacred fuel itself, I have truly been blessed, favored, and kept safe.”
When the spectators, wild with joy, had settled a little, Vibhatsu began to show his quickness with weapons. With the Agneya weapon he made fire, with the Varuna weapon water, with the Vayavya weapon wind, and with the Parjanya weapon he raised clouds. With the Bhauma weapon he made land, and with the Parvatya weapon he brought mountains into being. Then with the Antardhana weapon he made all of it vanish. One moment the teacher’s favorite looked tall, the next short; now he stood on the yoke of his car, now on the car itself, and the moment after on the ground. With his practiced skill the fine archer struck marks of every sort, some soft, some fine, some of thick make. As if loosing a single shaft, he sent 5 arrows at once from his bowstring into the mouth of a moving iron boar. And that hero of great energy drove 21 arrows into the hollow of a cow’s horn that hung swaying to and fro on a rope. In this way, O sinless one, Arjuna moved in circles across the lists and showed his deep skill with sword, bow, and mace.
A key to reading this (concept): The Agneya, Varuna, Vayavya, Parjanya, Bhauma, Parvatya, and Antardhana are celestial weapons, governed by mantra, that call up fire, water, wind, cloud, earth, and mountain in turn, and make everything disappear. These are powers brought to life by resolve and mantra, far beyond an ordinary bow and arrow.
The gist: When Arjuna entered in golden mail the assembly rang with joy and Kunti’s eyes filled. He made fire, water, wind, cloud, earth, and mountain rise with celestial weapons, then made them all vanish, and, placing 5 arrows in the mouth of an iron boar and 21 in a cow’s horn, he showed a skill no one could match.
The Slap of Arms at the Gate
O Bharata, when the display had nearly ended, the excitement of the spectators had cooled, and the sound of the instruments had died away, there came from the direction of the gate the slapping of arms against arms, a sign of power and strength, loud as the roll of thunder. As soon as that sound was heard, O king, the gathered crowd wondered all at once, “Are the mountains splitting, or is the earth itself tearing open, or is the sky ringing with the roar of gathering clouds?” Then every spectator turned his eyes toward the gate.
And there stood Drona, ringed by the five brothers, the sons of Pritha, looking like the moon in the company of the five-starred constellation Hasta. And Duryodhana, that slayer of foes, sprang up in haste and was surrounded by his hundred proud brothers, Ashvatthama among them. That prince, mace in hand, ringed by his hundred brothers with their weapons raised, looked like Purandara (Indra) of old, encircled by the host of the gods on the day of battle with the Danavas.
The gist: As the display wound down, a thunderous slap of arms rang out from the gate and every eye turned that way. Drona stood ringed by the five Pandavas, and Duryodhana rose surrounded by his hundred brothers and Ashvatthama.
Karna Enters
When the spectators, their eyes wide with wonder, made way for that conqueror of enemy cities, the hero Karna, his body sheathed in the mail he had been born with and his face lit by his earrings, took up his bow, girded on his sword, and came into the wide arena like a walking cliff. That famed destroyer of enemy hosts, the large-eyed Karna, had been born of Pritha in her maidenhood. He was a portion of the hot-rayed Sun, and his energy and prowess were like those of a lion, a bull, or the leader of a herd of elephants. In brightness he was like the Sun, in beauty like the Moon, in energy like fire. Begotten by the Sun himself, he stood tall as a golden palm tree, and, in the full vigor of youth, he was strong enough to kill a lion. Handsome of face, he was a man of countless gifts.
A sub-tale: Vyasa’s story lets you know here, in a hint, whose son Karna is. He is the son Pritha (Kunti) bore in her maidenhood, a portion of the Sun. That is to say, Karna is in truth the eldest brother of the Pandavas. The people seated in the assembly, and the Pandavas themselves, do not know it. This hidden tie of blood is the cruel irony that runs under the whole story that follows, because the man everyone will shame as a charioteer’s son is a Kshatriya by birth and Kunti’s firstborn.
The mighty warrior cast his eyes around the arena and bowed, without much ceremony, to Drona and Kripa. The whole assembly, still and staring, wondered, “Who is he?” and grew restless with the wish to know the warrior. Then that foremost of eloquent men, the child of the Sun, in a voice as deep as thunder, spoke to his unknown brother, the son of Indra, subduer of the Asura Paka, and said, “Partha, before this watching crowd I will do feats greater than everything you have done. When you see them, you will be amazed.”
O best of those blessed with speech, he had barely finished when the spectators rose all at once, as if lifted by some machine. O tiger among men, Duryodhana filled with delight, while Vibhatsu was seized on the instant by shame and anger. Then, with Drona’s leave, the mighty Karna, who loved a fight, did there everything Partha had done before him.
O Bharata, Duryodhana, with his brothers, then embraced Karna in his joy and said to him, “Welcome, mighty warrior! I have found you by good fortune, O courteous one. Live here as you please, and command me and the kingdom of the Kurus.” Karna answered, “Since you have said it, I count it already done. I ask only for your friendship. And my one wish, my lord, is for a single combat with Arjuna.” Duryodhana said, “Share with me all the good things of life. Be your friend’s benefactor, and, crusher of enemies, set your foot on the heads of all your foes.”
The gist: Karna, wearing the mail and earrings he was born with, came into the arena like a walking cliff. The assembly kept wondering, “Who is he?” He matched every one of Arjuna’s feats and asked for a duel with him. Duryodhana embraced him and pledged his friendship and his kingdom. The story had already hinted that Karna is Kunti’s hidden firstborn.
Arjuna’s Insult and the Challenge to a Duel
After this Arjuna, feeling himself disgraced, said to Karna, who stood among the brothers like a cliff, “The path that the unwelcome intruder and the uninvited speaker come to, that path will be yours, Karna, for you will be slain by me.” Karna answered, “This arena is open to everyone, Phalguna. You do not own it. They are kings who are greatest in energy, and a Kshatriya honors might, and might alone. What need is there for argument, the resort of the weak? Speak in arrows, Bharata, until with arrows I strike your head from your shoulders today, before the teacher himself.”
Then Partha, quickly embraced by his brothers, that subduer of enemy cities, advanced for the fight with Drona’s leave. On the other side, embraced by Duryodhana and his brothers, Karna took up his bow and arrows and stood ready. Then the sky filled with clouds that flashed with lightning, and the colored bow of Indra appeared, scattering its bright rays. The clouds seemed to laugh, for rows of white cranes were then on the wing. And seeing Indra look down on the arena out of love for his son, the Sun in turn cleared the clouds from over his own child. So Phalguna stood hidden deep under cover of the clouds, while Karna stayed in plain sight, wrapped in the rays of the Sun. The son of Dhritarashtra stood beside Karna, and the son of Bharadwaja, and Kripa, and Bhishma stood with Partha. And the assembly was divided, and so were the women who watched.
Reading what all this meant, Kunti, the daughter of Bhoja, fainted and fell. Vidura, who knew every duty, had her women help, and by sprinkling sandal paste and water over her body he brought the senseless Kunti back to herself. When she came to and saw her two sons clad in mail, fear took hold of her, and there was nothing she could do to shield them.
A key to reading this (lineage): Kunti is called here “the daughter of Bhoja.” She was the daughter of the Yadava Shurasena, and the childless Bhoja king Kuntibhoja adopted her, which is why she was called Kunti and also the daughter of Bhoja. Both Arjuna and Karna are her sons, and that is why the sight of the two of them in mail made her faint.
The gist: The disgraced Arjuna and Karna each vowed to kill the other and squared off for a duel. Indra raised clouds to cover Arjuna, and the Sun cleared the clouds from over Karna; the assembly and the women split into two camps. Seeing both her sons in mail, Kunti fainted, and Vidura brought her back to her senses.
The Question of Lineage and Kripa’s Intervention
Seeing the two warriors standing with strung bows in their hands, Kripa, the son of Saradwat, who knew every duty and the rules that govern duels, addressed Karna: “This Pandava, the youngest son of Kunti, belongs to the Kaurava line. He will fight with you. But you too, mighty-armed one, must tell us your lineage, the names of your father and mother, and the royal house of which you are the ornament. When Partha has heard all this, he will fight with you or not, as he sees fit. Sons of kings never fight with men of low birth.”
At Kripa’s words Karna’s face turned pale and wilted like a lotus battered by the rains. Duryodhana said, “Teacher, the scriptures do say that three kinds of men may lay claim to royalty: a man of royal blood, a hero, and one who leads armies. If Phalguna will not fight with a man who is no king, then I will make Karna king of Anga.”
A key to reading this (place): Anga was one of the old realms of India, with its capital at Champa, in the region around present-day Bhagalpur in Bihar. By making Karna king of this land of Anga, Duryodhana gives him the royal standing of a rival worthy of Arjuna.
The Crowning of the King of Anga
That very moment, seating him on a golden seat, with parched paddy, flowers, water-pots, and abundant gold, Brahmanas skilled in mantras crowned the mighty warrior Karna a king. The royal umbrella was raised over his head, and yak-tail whisks were waved around that great hero of gracious face. When the cheering had died down, King Karna said to the Kaurava Duryodhana, “Tiger among kings, what can I give you to match this gift of a kingdom? Whatever you command, O king, I will do it.” And Suyodhana said, “I want nothing so much as your friendship.” Hearing this, Karna answered, “Be it so.” And they embraced each other in joy, and knew great happiness.
The gist: Kripa asked Karna for his lineage, saying that sons of kings do not fight men of low birth, and Karna’s face fell. At once Duryodhana had Karna crowned king of Anga. When the new king asked how he might repay him, Duryodhana asked only for his friendship, and the two embraced and sealed their bond.
Adhiratha’s Arrival and Bhima’s Taunt
After this Adhiratha came into the arena, his upper cloth hanging loose, sweating and trembling, leaning on a staff. When Karna saw him he set down his bow and, moved by a son’s love, bowed his head, still wet with the water of his crowning. The charioteer hurriedly covered his feet with the end of his cloth and called Karna, crowned with success, his son. And the charioteer embraced Karna and, out of the fullness of his love, wet his head with tears, that head still wet with the water sprinkled on it at his crowning as king of Anga.
Seeing the charioteer, the Pandava Bhimasena took Karna for a charioteer’s son and said, by way of mockery, “Son of a suta, you do not deserve to die in battle at Partha’s hands. As befits your birth, pick up the whip that drives the horses. And, worst of men, you are no more fit to rule the kingdom of Anga than a dog is fit for the butter set out before the sacrificial fire.” At these words Karna’s lips trembled a little, he drew a long breath, and he looked up at the sun in the sky.
A key to reading this (concept): The suta was the order that traditionally did the work of the charioteer, the man who drove the chariot. Adhiratha was a suta, and his wife Radha raised the infant Karna after finding him adrift on the river, which is why Karna is called Radheya and suta’s son. Bhima’s taunt rests on this distinction of birth and order, and he does not know that Karna is in truth the son of the Sun and of Kunti, his own eldest brother.
Duryodhana’s Reply and His Word on Lineage
And as a rutting elephant rises out of a bed of lotuses, so the mighty Duryodhana rose in anger from among his brothers and said to Bhimasena, that doer of dreadful deeds, standing there, “Vrikodara, it does not become you to speak such words. Might is the first virtue of a Kshatriya, and even a Kshatriya of low birth deserves to be fought. The lineage of heroes, like the source of a lordly river, is always unknown. The fire that covers the whole world rises from the waters. The thunderbolt that slew the Danavas was made from the bone of a mortal named Dadhichi.”
“The god Guha, who gathers in himself the portions of all the other gods, is of a lineage no one knows. Some call him the son of Agni, some of Krittika, some of Rudra, and some of Ganga. We have heard that men born in the Kshatriya order have become Brahmanas. Vishvamitra and others, born Kshatriyas, reached the eternal Brahma. Drona, foremost of all wielders of weapons, was born in a water-pot, and Kripa of the line of Gotama sprang from a clump of heath. Your own births, Pandava princes, are known to me.”
“Can a doe give birth to a tiger like Karna, with the splendor of the Sun, marked with every sign of fortune, born with mail and earrings of his own? This prince among men, by the might of his arm and by my oath to obey him in everything, has earned the sovereignty of the whole world. Anga is far too small a gift for him. If there is anyone here who cannot bear what I have done for Karna, let him mount his chariot and bend his bow with the help of his feet.”
A key to reading this (lineage): Duryodhana’s examples run deep. Drona was born in a drona, a vessel, which is where his name comes from. Kripa and Kripi were twins born in a thicket of heath, which is why Kripa is called a son of the line of Gotama though his birth too was out of the ordinary. Guha, that is Kartikeya, was born from the portions of many gods, so opinions on his fatherhood differ. With all of these Duryodhana wants to prove one thing: a hero should be measured by his valor and his divine marks, and his birth should count for nothing.
Sunset and the Dispersal of the Assembly
A confused murmur of approval for Duryodhana’s words ran through the crowd. But the sun went down, and prince Duryodhana took Karna by the hand and led him out of the arena, now lit by countless lamps. And the Pandavas too, O king, went back to their own homes with Drona, Kripa, and Bhishma. The people came away as well, some naming Arjuna as the day’s victor, some Karna, and some Duryodhana.
And Kunti, who had known her son by the many auspicious marks on Karna’s body, and who had seen him crowned over the kingdom of Anga, was filled with a mother’s joy, and kept what she knew to herself. In this way, O king, by winning Karna, Duryodhana put away the fear that Arjuna’s skill in arms had raised in him. Karna, that hero so accomplished in arms, set about pleasing Duryodhana with sweet words, while in Yudhishthira’s mind the conviction settled that there was no warrior on earth to equal Karna.
The gist: When Adhiratha the charioteer arrived, Karna bowed and accepted his father’s love, and Bhima scorned him as a charioteer’s son. Duryodhana took Karna’s side, prizing a hero’s valor over his family. With the sunset the assembly broke up. Kunti knew Karna by his marks but held her silence, and in Karna Duryodhana had found his lasting ally against Arjuna.
Source: the Mahabharata of Krishna-Dwaipayana Vyasa, Adi Parva; in the Gita Press, Gorakhpur tradition.
Based on: the Mahabharata of Vedavyasa (Gita Press, Gorakhpur)