FIFTEEN
Beside himself to see Arjuna storm into the padma vyuha, Duryodhana rides wildly up to Drona. He cries at his Acharya, “Arjuna smashes through your legions as if they are not there at all! Your shakata vyuha fell apart at his first charge and he has broken into your lotus as if it is made of petals, not soldiers. We do everything in our power to please you, Acharya, but you betray our cause. Your heart is not with me, but with the Pandavas. You stood at the vyuha’s rim and I know that no one could pass you unless you let them.”
Drona begins to speak, but Duryodhana rages, “My lord, the deadliest enemy is the one you have taken to your heart in trust. He is like a knife hidden in a pot of honey. I believed you, Drona, when you said Jayadratha would be safe. But look how Arjuna flies at him like a naracha. Why sunset, Jay-adratha will die before noon.
I should have let him ride home; he would have been safer in his own country. I have sacrificed my brother-in-law to Yama; why, he would be safer facing Yama than Arjuna, if my cousin reaches him. You must stop him, Drona. You are this army’s Senapati!”
Stung, Drona replies, “You saw me try, but he is as quick as the mind. I am old, Duryodhana, past my prime. Most warriors I can still contain; but this is Arjuna, there is no one like him. And then his horses are gandharva steeds, Krishna is his sarathy!
But I could keep another vow today. With Arjuna away, I could take Yudhishtira. Let a younger man pursue Arjuna: none better than you, Duryodhana. It will hearten your men to see you lead them from the front; and you can avenge your four friends he killed.”
Duryodhana’s face turns darker. “Do you mock me, Acharya? That you send me after a kshatriya who swept past you so easily. How can I stop him when the great Drona could not? You saw him strike Kritavarman down. You stood at the lip of your vyuha, like Siva with his Pinaka. But even as you watched him, he killed Srutayudha, Srutayus, Achutayus and Sudakshina, as if they were children. And you ask me to ride after Arjuna? Acharya, you are our only hope, everything depends on you. You must save us today!”
A smile softens Drona’s face. “You are like my own son, Duryodhana, I wouldn’t send you to your death. Look, I have this armor I have kept just for you.” He shows Duryodhana that mail, like treasure in his hands. Duryodhana gasps. “This is Brahma’s own kavacha, its links are ancient mantras and not even the devastras can pierce it. Indra wore this armor when he fought Vritrasura. Come, let me help you put it on.”
Duryodhana climbs down from his chariot and allows Drona to wrap him in Brahma’s golden mail. Wearing it, he feels a surge of magic in his blood. He kneels before his guru for his blessing. Laughing, Drona blesses him. Duryodhana says, “Forgive me for what I said rashly to you.”
“Even as a father forgives his son,” replies Drona. “Now go like the wind and you will beat Arjuna today!”
As if Brahma’s armor touched him with unworldly courage, Duryodhana rides roaring after the Pandava. Seeing their king fly to the rescue, the Kaurava soldiers stream back into battle. This is at the very heart of the red lotus.
Meanwhile, only Arjuna and Yuddhamanyu and Uttamaujas at his chariot-wheels have broken into the padma vyuha. Drona turns back to the rim of the lotus, where Dhrishtadyumna and the Pandava army storm the phalanx that Arjuna has breached. The two armies meet like the golden Ganga and the midnight-blue Yamuna flowing into each other during a flood. But Drona fights as if for his life and the Pandava legions can make no headway against him. The brahmana’s astras light up Kurukshetra, they consume Yudhishtira’s legions and, inexorably, Drona forges nearer Yudhishtira himself.
Duryodhana’s brothers fight beside their Senapati. Bheema and his brothers face Vivimsati, Chi-trasena and Vikarna. Vinda and Anuvinda face Virata and Shalya confronts Yudhishtira. Dusasana and Satyaki battle, Shakuni meets Madri’s twins. Shikhandi and Baahlika fight, while Ghatotkacha and Alambusa lock again in a vicious mayic duel. Far away, beyond Arjuna forging on alone through the padma vyuha, Aswatthama and Karna stand guard over Jayadratha, with Bhoorisravas and his army, Kripa, Sala and Durjaya.
Baahlika and Dhrishtadyumna duel briefly, then Draupadi’s sons stream forward, an army by themselves and their battle with Baahlika is like the war of the five senses against the mind! Satyaki and Dusasana light the air between them with igneous shafts that extinguish each other in flight. But Dusasana fights in inspiration today and finds his mark with a blinding arrow that strikes Satyaki unconscious in his chariot. The Yadava’s sarathy rides away from battle, until his warrior recovers. Satyaki is up in a moment, flaming back at Dusasana.
Dhrishtadyumna rides at Drona and a refulgent duel breaks out. Duryodhana’s sharpness has stung his Acharya deeply and he fights beyond himself now: to reach Yudhishtira at any cost. The old master overwhelms Dhrishtadyumna. He smashes his chariot, kills the horses and sarathy of his old enemy’s son. Growling, Dhrishtadyumna seizes up a sword and leaps on to Drona’s horses. Nimble as the wind he runs along their backs at his master. This is not less than deliverance for the brahmana: the man born to kill him makes an absurdly easy target.
Drona raises his bow, with an astra that will blow the fire-prince to pieces at such short range. He draws back his bowstring and for a moment that lasts a life, Dhrishtadyumna sees death face to face. He springs forward along the horses’ backs, knowing he cannot reach Drona before the Acharya’s arrow blasts him to bits. For an eternity, Drona’s bowstring remains drawn back and with hallucinatory clarity, Dhrishtadyumna sees every detail of the master’s powerful hand, his fingers, the rings on them, the deep wrinkles on his face, the smile on his lips, every hair in his beard, the look almost of surprise in his eyes that the kshatriya born to kill him makes such a rash gift of his own life. All this is emblazoned on Dhrishtadyumna’s mind.
For another eternity, Drona’s hand remains, quivering, where it has pulled back his bowstring. Dhrishtadyumna wants to shut his eyes but finds he cannot. Then, he hears a noise deafening the huge silence that has fallen over his world: the sound of an arrow cleaving the air, loud as a tempest. Dhrishtadyumna waits in that awful moment for the shaft to tear his chest open. Instead, he sees a flicker of shock in Drona’s eyes. He sees the tremor that passes through the master’s hand. He sees his bowstring sag and its arrow drop on to the chariot floor. He hears its clatter mingle with the swish of Satyaki’s timely barb humming past after it severs Drona’s bowstring, saving Dhrishtadyumna’s life.
Drupada’s son still stands petrified, but Satyaki flashes up, sweeps his friend out of his daze and into his chariot before Drona can recover. With a feral roar at being done out of his priceless prey, whose life he held in the palm of his hand for that moment, Drona seizes up another bow and covers the dashing Satyaki in a swath of arrows. But the Yadava in his fleeting chariot fights like his master, Arjuna, today. Quick as light, he breaks Drona’s bowstring again; and while the furious brahmana reaches for another weapon, Satyaki strikes him deep with darts like fire.
Drona cries to his sarathy, “Ride at Yudhishtira! It is him we must take today.”
But Satyaki cries to his charioteer, “The brahmana who takes up arms is more terrible than any kshatriya. For his pride is great and his mind is subtle. Drona is the heart of the Kaurava army. Ride at him, friend, fly between him and Yudhishtira!”
In a steep swirl, Satyaki confronts Drona again. Drona attacks the Yadava in wrath, meaning to kill him now. But Arjuna’s pupil fights back magnificently and the war pauses around them to watch their duel. Drona mutters to himself, between burning shafts, “He fights like Bheeshma or Arjuna, like Bhargava or Karttikeya. Arjuna’s sishya is his guru’s peer!”
Twice more, Satyaki breaks Drona’s bow in his hand. The Acharya’s face is red. He looses an agneyastra, of a hundred billowing flames, to consume Satyaki, his chariot and all. The raging weapon, used commonly against a whole legion, flares at the Yadava in flash-fire. A lesser kshatriya may have panicked to see that inferno. But serene Satyaki, poised, quicksilver Satyaki has learned well from his master. He invokes a varunastra of the Lord of the sea and douses Drona’s fireball in a crested blue wave, tall as a hill.
Not only the awestruck soldiers of both armies on the field, but Devas and gandharvas, charanas and apsaras, have gathered in the sky to watch this duel. Drenched in water from Satyaki’s varunastra, his shaft of agni put out, Drona roars on Kurukshetra so the ground shakes under his chariot wheels. But before the duel can resume, Nakula and Sahadeva, Bheema and Yudhishtira ride to Satyaki’s side. In a moment, Dhrishtadyumna in a fresh chariot, Virata and the Kekaya brothers are beside him, as well; and from the Kaurava ranks, Dusasana, with a score of his brothers, arrives to fight for Drona. The battle spreads out again, as the armies fall at each other.
Though he has been frustrated in his attempt on Yudhishtira and is furious at the Yadava responsible, Drona is still warrior enough, artist enough, to admire the relucent valor of young Satyaki.