SEVEN
Dawn of the thirteenth day of the war, the third of Drona’s command: the sun rises amidst weird haloes, portending some tragedy. Tall and grim, Drona stalks on to the field, a man who has left conscience behind him. He deploys his legions in the chakra vyuha, phalanx of the spinning wheel. The formation is almost flower-like, with Duryodhana at its heart and around him ring upon ring of kshatriyas. Karna, Dusasana and Kripa are among the inmost layer; in the next, is Jayadratha with his aksauhini. At Jayadratha’s side is Aswatthama and Duryodhana’s brothers form the next ring of the chakra. Shakuni, Kritavarman, Shalya, Bhoorisravas and their legions are the outer rim of the wheeling flower, with Drona himself beyond the perimeter. On the fateful thirteenth day, all the Kaurava soldiers wear red clothes and garlands of red flowers and from afar, by the light of dawn, it seems that a gigantic carmine lotus has bloomed upon the earth: a blood lotus.
The fighting begins. Today, Bheema leads the Pandava army. He rides out before Satyaki, Dhrish-tadyumna, Drupada, Kuntibhoja, Kshatradharma, Brihadkshatra, Sisupala’s son Dhrishtaketu, Sahadeva, Nakula, Ghatotkacha, Yuddhamanyu, Uttamaujas, Shikhandi, Draupadi’s sons, Virata, Yudhishtira, the Kekaya brothers and a hundred other kshatriyas. In a throng, they attack the scarlet vyuha. But the brahmana is there at the rim of his formation and he is like a mountain against which the waves of a sea dash in vain. His chestnut horses flit everywhere and his arrows are an impenetrable veil. Behind Drona’s veil, the other Kaurava warriors seem to wheel, round and round, never showing a still target. It is a subtle vyuha and its kshatriyas’ shafts fly out in hot swarms from where they are least expected.
The chakra vyuha melts the Pandava legions in a sludge of gore and they have no Arjuna with them to cleave the spinning wheel. First thing after the conches blared, Susharma challenged him again with a fresh complement of Samsaptakas: now, mercenaries recruited in the night for fine sums of money. Once more, Arjuna and the Trigartas face each other, far from the rest of the battle.
There is no breaching the chakra vyuha. Not Bheema’s elemental strength and the inspired archery of the others, combined, can break a way into the turning maze, which vomits death out of its hermetic confines. Exhilarated, the Kaurava soldiers fight as never before and hardly a handful lose their lives from stray arrows, from inescapable fate; while thousands of Pandava soldiers perish. Drona’s esoteric vyuha is perfectly secure against Yudhishtira’s army. It is an almost magical formation and only a maharathika who knows exactly how can penetrate the fluid chakra.
Yudhishtira cries in despair, “Doesn’t anyone but Arjuna know how this vyuha can be breached?” Then he remembers; of course, another kshatriya knows the secret of the chakra vyuha: Arjuna himself has taught Abhimanyu.
Yudhishtira turns in excitement to his nephew, “Abhimanyu, only four men know the mystery of the chakra vyuha. Krishna, Pradyumna, Arjuna and you. You are our only hope, child, will you break into the wheel of death?”
Abhimanyu hesitates, a frown on his face. Yudhishtira says, “What is the matter?”
That prince replies, “I can break into the chakra vyuha quite easily. But my father had time only to teach me how to enter the spinning maze; he did not show me how to come out again. I may be trapped inside.”
Yudhishtira says quickly, “Once you make the breach, we will all follow you in.”
Bheema cries, “I will be at your heels, Abhimanyu and Dhrishtadyumna, Satyaki, the Kekayas, Panchalas, Prabhadrakas and the Matsyas. Make the first break and we will smash the vyuha.”
How Abhimanyu’s eyes shine at the privilege. He cries, “I will bring glory to the Houses of Kuru and Vrishni. My father and my mother and my uncles will be proud of Abhimanyu today!”
Yudhishtira embraces the boy of sixteen summers, that great kshatriya. The Pandava says, “May all the Gods bless you! Our best warriors will ride with you, Abhimanyu. Go, my child, bring us glory.”
Abhimanyu has no doubt he can break into the chakra vyuha. Only, the wheel is known to snap shut as soon as an enemy enters, as some carnivorous flowers do around a bee. But his uncles have assured him they will not let the vyuha close behind him. They will shatter the wheeling thing, as soon as he breaks in. His kshatriya blood coursing, Abhimanyu climbs into his chariot. With a radiant smile, he salutes his uncles. Yudhishtira orders two fine archers to climb in behind the prince, to watch his back. Then, the other Pandavas and kings all climb into their rathas and follow Arjuna’s son.
Abhimanyu says to his sarathy, “Fly at the chakra vyuha!”
The man can hardly believe the command. “My prince, Drona is a wily brahmana. This is a trap laid for you. He knows your father is away against Susharma’s Samsaptakas and I hear he has sworn to kill a maharathika today. Don’t ride into mortal peril, Abhimanyu, I fear for your life.”
Abhimanyu snorts at the man’s fears. “Drona is so smug I look forward to fighting him! Have you forgotten who I am, that you fear for me? I am Arjuna’s son, I am Krishna’s nephew! Not all the Kauravas together can hold me. After today, they will tremble at Abhimanyu’s very name. This is no time for faintheartedness; our men are dying like flies. Why, I would not fear Arjuna, Indra, or Vishnu himself in battle. Ride, sarathy, ride at the chakra vyuha!”
With a sigh and dread in his heart, the charioteer cracks his whip and rides at Drona’s cunning wheel.