BOOK SEVEN
AUM, I bow down to Narayana, the most exalted Nara and to the Devi Saraswathi and say Jaya!
ONE
The eleventh morning of the war dawns, cold and clear and despair grips the Kaurava army. As long as Bheeshma had led them, they could always win the war. Now he lay on his strange deathbed, waiting for the sun to return to his northern path. As Sanjaya said to his stricken king, blind Dhritarash-tra, the Kaurava army is like the sky without a sun, the earth without its verdure, speech without refinement, a woman who has lost her husband, a dry river in summer, like a mountain-cave empty of its lion and his roar!
As naturally as seasons change, when their times come, the Kauravas turn to Karna for assurance. On that eleventh morning of the war of dharma, the army of Hastinapura resounds not with blasting conches or drumrolls, but a single name cried out by a million throats.
“Karna!” they roar. “Karna to beat the Pandavas!”
In his tent, Karna hears them with a grim smile. He is putting on mail, readying himself for battle.
Duryodhana and his brothers arrive in Karna’s tent. Duryodhana puts his arms around him and begins to cry again, as do all Dhritarashtra’s sons. Karna comforts them like an older brother.
“Nothing is certain in this fleeting world; not when we live, or die. Bheeshma has fallen when all of you guarded him with your lives: when Drona and Aswatthama, Duryodhana, Kripa, Dusasana, Shalya and a thousand others watched over him. His time had come and no power on earth could save the Pitama. Yet, it is easier for you to imagine the sun fallen out of the sky.”
He puts his hands on Duryodhana’s shoulders, “I know why you have come to me this morning. Look, I have put on armor. Duryodhana here I am, ready to die for you. The enemy is powerful: righteous Yudhishtira, tameless Bheema, brilliant Arjuna, Nakula and Sahadeva who fight like Devas. They have Satyaki, who is hardly less of an archer than Arjuna himself. Then, the most formidable, if the youngest: Abhimanyu who has both Krishna and Arjuna’s blood in his veins. We must not forget Drupada and the fire-prince Dhrishtadyumna, whose valor no one has fathomed. And their fierce, loyal legions.
This is the enemy. We would be fools if we deceived ourselves that they will be easy to vanquish. We must do our best and if we win, the world shall be yours. If we lose, we will still have earned immortal fame for ourselves. Let us not be anxious about how the war will end, but take courage in both hands and leave the rest to fate. Let us go and fight!”
How his dark eyes shine. Duryodhana thinks Arjuna will not live much longer and he is consoled. Of ambition and mercy, ambition will always rule the Kaurava’s heart. Duryodhana returns to his own tent. Karna goes again to his dying grandsire. Now he comes as a warrior, in his chariot, wearing mail and armed. He alights and approaches Bheeshma. Folding his hands, he says quietly, “I mean to follow you, Pitama. You have laid your life down for Duryodhana and so will I. Bless me again.”
He kneels beside Bheeshma. Bheeshma takes his hand, “You are Duryodhana’s only hope. Fight as well as you can: that you must do in kshatriya dharma. Karna, I have thought long about you and I have no doubt you are the greatest of all my grandsons.” He lowers his voice, “Let your death be as noble as you are. I bless you that your fame will live forever, after you die and it shall be blemishless; and when you fall, Kurukshetra will be like a mother’s lap to you. Men of generations too distant to dream of, men in the heart of the kali yuga will name their sons after you. I bless you that you will die with a smile on your lips and joy in your heart. Noble Karna, after everything you have endured, you will never be born again into this world of sorrow. You will have moksha, my child.”
Bheeshma lays a loving palm on Karna’s head. Karna takes the dust from his Pitama’s feet and walks back to his chariot. Splendid as his father, Karna rides up to the Kaurava army. They see him like a sun risen for them, after the fractured night. A huge cheer goes up, echoing over Kurukshetra, “Karna! Great Karna for victory!”
“Karna is with us now, how long will the Pandavas live?”
A smile on his drawn face, Duryodhana welcomes his friend, taking his hands. “You tell me what we should do next. My mind is dark with grief and I cannot reason clearly. We must have a Senapati for our army, but I can’t think who it must be.”
Adroitly, he leaves the decision to Karna. Karna says, “All these kshatriyas are fit for the charge; each is the others’ peer. But if you choose one, the others will feel slighted. Yet, is there a warrior among us who towers over the rest in both age and experience; only he can command respect from us all. Duryodhana, let Drona be your Senapati.”
Duryodhana goes to his master. “Acharya, you have been as close to us as our Pitama. It is only just that his mantle passes to you. I beg you, assume command of the army of Hastinapura.”
Drona, the brahmana, is pleased no end. He says, “I will lead your army as best I can.”
Duryodhana calls for holy water and Drona is consecrated Senapati of the Kaurava army. When Karna stands beside the Acharya, the soldiers feel a surge of hope. They say, “Karna is a better archer than Arjuna. He can win this war for us.”
“Remember the tournament in Hastinapura. He showed he was the better bowman.”
“He has no love for the Pandavas, as Bheeshma did. He will kill them for Duryodhana.”
Drona deploys his soldiers in the shakata vyuha, phalanx of the cart; while, Dhrishtadyumna forms the krauncha vyuha once more. The Pandavas peer across Kurukshetra at some excitement among the Kaurava legions. They see Karna, bright as a God, take the field for the first time. He is as pure, as radiant as the sun springing from the dragon Rahu’s mouth.
Before he rides to the van of his army, Drona says to Duryodhana, “I will fight all the Pandavas, but there is one man I will not face, one kshatriya you must shield me from. For he was born to kill me.
“Dhrishtadyumna, my lord?”
“Keep Drupada’s fire-prince away from me, if you want me to stay alive.” The guru smiles at his sishya. “I will not pretend I am not delighted to be your Senapati. I want to do something exceptional for you, to show my gratitude.”
Duryodhana reflects on this for just a moment, before he says, “Can you take Yudhishtira captive and bring him to me alive?”
Drona’s eyes flash. “If you mean to kill him, let it be in battle, not by deceit.”
Duryodhana laughs. “Oh no, Acharya! Would Arjuna spare our lives for an hour if I did that? And even if we kill all the Pandavas, Krishna will burn us with his Chakra. No, if you bring Yudhishtira to me, I will challenge him to another game of dice. He will lose and we can send him and his brothers to the jungle again and end this war.”
Drona considers this and likes it even less than the war. But he must keep the word he has given. “If you can lure Arjuna away, I will bring Yudhishtira to you.”
Duryodhana knows how fond his Acharya is of the Pandavas. To hold him to his word, he has it proclaimed to their army that Drona will take Yudhishtira alive. The news travels quickly to the Pandavas. Arjuna cries in fury, “Have the great sunk so low? But we shall see how they take my brother, when I won’t leave his side for a moment.”