NINETEEN
Satyaki burns brighter than Arjuna on Kurukshetra; the Yadava has killed more men than his guru. After they are routed themselves, Duryodhana and Dusasana send an unconventional legion against him. These men do not fight with bows or spears, but with slingshots and stones! Their aim is unerring and the force with which they sling their stones phenomenal. Some five hundred of them attack Satyaki; the Kauravas hope, at least, to surprise him. But the raging forest-fire hardly cares whether it consumes the punnaga or the palasa. Laughing at the ludicrous tactic, the Yadava smashes the cata-pultists’ missiles into dust with a bank of arrows; and, with a handful of minor astras, he kills them all. These men die almost simultaneously and they scream louder than any others whom Satyaki has dispatched to their fathers in the next world. Greater panic than ever grips the Kaurava army.
Satyaki courses on, leaving his trail of corpses: men and horses, chariots he has riven with streak lightning and elephants keeled over where he shot them. Far away, Drona hears the screams and turns to his sarathy. “Satyaki is more terrible than Arjuna today. We must fight him again.”
His charioteer says, “He strews Kurukshetra with bodies, like rice-plants in a field at harvest time. But, my lord, look how far he is from us. If you leave your place to chase Satyaki, the Pandava army will break in and then the slaughter will be ten times what it is.”
Even as they speak, a legion of Duryodhana’s army rides toward them, in headlong flight from Satyaki. They hardly know where they are fleeing to, only that it is away from the Yadava. At the head of that force is Dusasana, his face red, his eyes bulging from his sleek head and his body drenched in the sweat of fear. Drona rides on to his path and roars at him, “Kshatriya! Where are you running in such fright? You are the yuvaraja. Shame on you.
In Hastinapura, you mocked the Pandavas louder than anyone else did. What happened to that bravado? Listen to me, Dusasana. If you run like this it won’t be long before Yudhishtira sits on the throne of Hastinapura and you and your brothers lie moldering among the worms of Kurukshetra!”
Dusasana cringes before his master; his Acharya has not done. “If this is how you mean to win the war, I will tell you a better way, before Bheema drinks your blood. Ride to your brother and persuade him to give the Pandavas back their kingdom. Then live among the women in your harem and tell them how bravely you fought. After this, no one else will believe you.
Coward! You are not just ruining your own honor; you are destroying the morale of our men. Turn back, Dusasana. Go and stop Satyaki, if you call yourself a kshatriya!”
Without a word, Dusasana turns back from where he came. Mustering the last shreds of his courage, he rides to face Satyaki again. This battle does not last long and Dusasana finds his bow snatched from his hand, his chariot broken and he himself at the Yadava’s mercy. With a dreadful smile, Saty-aki fits a silver shaft to his bow. He draws the bowstring past his ear, his arrow aimed at Dusasana’s heart. Dusasana shuts his eyes and sullies himself. But suddenly, Satyaki gives a shout, “I won’t rob Bheema of his revenge! He has sworn to kill you, your life belongs to him.”
As Dusasana whimpers in relief, Satyaki leaves him and rides on toward the suchimukha vyuha and Arjuna.
When Dusasana rode back to face the ravening Satyaki, Drona turns to the Pandava army again, always stalking Yudhishtira, whom Bheema and Dhrishtadyumna guard like eyelids do eyes. In rage, Drona attacks some of Drupada’s younger sons and kills them easily. Howling to see his brothers die, Dhrishtadyumna flies at Drona. The assault is so sudden Drona faints in his chariot. Dhrish-tadyumna leaps out of his ratha. He draws his sword and runs toward the brahmana. Drona recovers just in time; he seizes his bow and drives Dhrishtadyumna back.
They fight again and Kurukshetra is lit up with astras. Until, fighting for his life, since he knows this prince was born to kill him, Drona burns Dhrishtadyumna’s bow in his hands with an agneyas-tra. Before the Panchala has time to pick up another, Drona rides away, thinking better of the dangerous encounter.
Duryodhana appears to stem the advancing Pandava army. He fights exceptionally today. Dhrishtadyumna, Sahadeva, Nakula, Bheema and Yudhishtira cannot match the Kaurava. He wounds many of them; others have their bows cloven, or their horses killed. His new armor glitters in the late light and the Pandavas have no Arjuna now, to find the chinks in Brahma’s mail. Seeing Duryodhana blaze like that, Drona rides to his side and soon the two of them hold off Yudhishtira’s finest kshatriyas, while thousands of common Pandava soldiers perish all around them.
The eldest of the Kekaya brothers, Brihadkshatra, challenges Drona. They fight long, with clouds of dark arrows, punctuated by flaring astras. With Duryodhana fighting close beside him, Drona wants to show off his best and suddenly he looses a brahmastra at Brihadkshatra. The Kekaya replies with a brahmastra of his own. Kurukshetra seems lit by a second sun, as the two weapons fuse in the sky. Astra quells astra and both fall away in showers of ashes. But the great ayudhas drain the warriors who summon them, bodily and in spirit; and now, though Drona is far the older man, it is Brihadks-hatra who tires. Even as the Pandavas shout encouragement to the Kekaya, Drona strikes him with five wooden shafts through his chest. As Brihadkshatra totters in his chariot, the brahmana takes his head off with a sixth, crescent-tipped arrow.
Sisupala’s son, Dhrishtaketu, charges Drona with a roar. But it seems the brahmana has lifted his archery to another plane. Dhrishtaketu dies, struck through his heart. A cry goes up from the Pandava soldiers and Drona is a fire, ripping through them. They fly from him in every direction, while Dury-odhana watches with a pleased smile.
Jarasandha’s son, also called Sahadeva, rides at Drona. He hasn’t time even to shoot an arrow at the Kaurava Senapati and his head is struck off by a sickle-headed shaft. In almost the same moment, Drona kills Dhrishtadyumna’s son, Kshatradharma, with an arrow that whizzes through a whole legion of soldiers and finds the prince standing idle in his chariot. It is as if the terrible Acharya already extracts revenge from Drupada and Dhrishtadyumna for his own death, which the fire-prince must bring him inevitably. He kills his childhood friend’s grandchild.
Duryodhana and his army press home the advantage Drona wins for them. They hunt with terror on Kurukshetra and kill thousands. Now the screams of the Pandava soldiers thicken the air and it seems Drona will raze the enemy by himself. He burns them; he lets frothing vermilion streams on the field of dharma. Yet, while the brahmana turns the tide of war back in Duryodhana’s favor, Yudhishtira’s anxious eyes hardly notice the battle around him. Instead, they scan the distance for some sign of Arjuna. There is none: no flash of a golden banner, Hanuman animating it, no report of the Gandiva’s string, nothing. And now he had sent Satyaki after Arjuna and there is no rumor of the Yadava either.
Yudhishtira thinks he should have never asked Satyaki to follow Arjuna, when the Yadava had been fighting all day. He must send someone after him. But whom? Only Bheema is powerful enough.
Deciding swiftly, Yudhishtira tells his sarathy to take him to Bheema, who stands smoldering at the havoc Drona wreaks. He is startled to see Yudhishtira, ashen and trembling. Bheema cries, “What is it, my brother? Is it Drona who makes you tremble?”
“Bheema, I am afraid. It is so long since Arjuna rode into the padma vyuha and there is no sign of him save Krishna’s desperate calls on the Panchajanya.”
Bheema scoffs, “You worry about Arjuna! Have you forgotten who his sarathy is, that you are so anxious?”
Yudhishtira has tears in his eyes. “I sent Satyaki after Arjuna and there is no sign from him either. I hear no screams from the Kaurava army, so I know my two kshatriyas are at them. All I hear are the enemy’s savage shouts. Bheema, I am terrified that Arjuna has met the same fate as Abhimanyu.” He sobs, “I am sure I have sent Satyaki to his death!”
Bheema is aghast. “Yudhishtira, you mustn’t let fear unhinge you. What will become of the rest of us? Tell me what I can do. I will do anything to make you calm again.”
Yudhishtira says, “I want you to go after Satyaki. Go as far as you can. As soon as you see any sign of him, just roar and I will know all is well.”
At that moment, the Panchajanya resounds across Kurukshetra again, in defiance, in lusty challenge. Yudhishtira blanches. He whispers, “Arjuna is dead! That is Krishna blowing on his conch, as he takes revenge on the Kauravas. Fly Bheema. For your brother’s sake, I beg you, fly! You may save at least Satyaki’s life.”
Bheema smiles wryly. “When Krishna and Arjuna ride into battle, victory rides with them. Satyaki is hardly less valiant than Arjuna; he, too, will come to no harm. Yesterday, all the Kauravas hunted Abhimanyu like a pack of dogs. Today they are more worried for Jayadratha’s life. I don’t think they will even bother trying to kill Arjuna, but only try to hold him up until the sun sets. And they won’t succeed even in that.”
Yudhishtira hardly looks comforted, so Bheema says, “Since you are so anxious, I will ride out to them. Listen for my roar. You will hear it as clearly as the Panchajanya!”