TWENTY
Bheema rides up to Dhrishtadyumna and says, “Yudhishtira wants me to follow Satyaki and Arjuna. When Drona sees me go, he will come after Yudhishtira again. The Acharya fights like ten men, but my brother will not listen to reason. I must leave him in your hands now, my friend.”
His face drawn, after his son’s death and his brother’s, Dhrishtadyumna says grimly to Bheema, “Drona fears me more than any man. Now he has given me more than one reason to kill him. Go with a light heart, Bheema: Drona won’t come near Yudhishtira, unless he kills Dhrishtadyumna first. And we both know that he will die before I do.”
Just then, another bass from Krishna’s conch booms across the field. Bheema clasps Dhrish-tadyumna briefly. He climbs into his chariot and cries, “Fly, sarathy! We must reach Arjuna before the sun sets.”
Drona sees Bheema’s chariot dash forward and the son of the wind is the last man he wants to enter his vyuha. In a trice, the brahamna is back at the edge of his lotus and bars Bheema’s way. Between Bheema and Drona rides another host, Duryodhana’s brothers all, with Dusasana at their head. Bheema gives them a welcoming roar. All day he has felt shackled to the rest of the army and Yudhishtira. Now, on his own at last and seeing a good score of the hundred he has sworn to kill, excitement grips him.
Dusasana casts a spear at Bheema, pale fire. Bheema smashes it in slivers and great laughter rumbles from him. Then he is at them and he is a force of nature. Seven screams ring across the dharma kshetra. Seven sons of Dhritarashtra fall dead: pierced by Bheema’s arrows, or their heads blown off by the mace Mayaa gave him. Thirty-one, he counts with satisfaction. The rest surround him like ants. He flails at them, killing three more and is splattered with their blood.
“Thirty-four!” roars Bheema and the others run. On rides the Pandava and arrives in Drona’s presence. The Acharya thinks his pupil will greet him reverently, as Arjuna and Satyaki had.
Drona cries, “You cannot enter my vyuha unless you defeat me. Arjuna rode round me in pradak-shina. He folded his hands and slipped past me like a coward. Satyaki followed his guru’s example.”
Bheema throws back his head and laughs. “Here me well, Brahmana. Arjuna needs leave from no man, why from no Deva even! No one in heaven or earth can stop my brother. He did not beg your leave; he only honored you as his guru. But I am not Arjuna, I am Bheema. Yes, there was a time when I, too, honored you. Why, I worshipped the ground you walked, because you were like a father to us.
All that is over, Drona. You are not the Acharya who loved us, any more, but Duryodhana’s minion. You are not my guru, but my enemy. I am not Arjuna who is sentimental still. I am Bheema and I kill those who fight for Duryodhana!”
He leaps down from his chariot and, mace in hand, eyes on fire, charges Drona. Losing his nerve, the brahmana leaps out of his ratha and shows a clean pair of heels. Next moment, Bheema is at his chariot and his horses, smashing them down, the sarathy’s scream cut off with a blow that decapitates him. Bheema’s laughter rings across Kurukshetra. But he has no time to waste chasing Drona. The Pandava climbs back into his chariot and going like his father of the air, rides again toward Arjuna.
Bheema’s passage is surprisingly easy. All around him, he sees the corpses with which Satyaki has embellished the field. On he fizzes, until a legion of elephants blocks his path. Bheema is not put out: his eyes shine! He rushes at the beasts and their soldiers. Again, Kurukshetra rings with trumpeting and screams. Soon, like the sun from a bank of clouds, Bheema emerges, triumphant and booms ahead on his quest for his brother.
From a flank, mounted in a fresh chariot, Drona rides at him again. Bheema has no patience for a duel. He casts his mace like a thunderflash, smashing Drona’s chariot to a standstill. Leaping to the ground, the son of the wind runs forward. With unearthly strength, he picks up that chariot and hurls it half a league from him! It shatters where it lands, flinging Drona out. The stunned brahmana climbs into another ratha and, realizing there is no stopping the wind’s son today, rides back to his place beyond the padma vyuha.
On plunges Bheema and those who are foolish enough to cross his path lie dead on Kurukshetra. The remnants of the Kaurava army left by Satyaki make way for him, running as far as they can at the sight of his chariot. Just once, one of Duryodhana’s brothers gathers a force to obstruct his way. As he comes, Bheema hurls a gleaming mace at them, an occult weapon. A thousand men fall dead at its impact and Bheema’s path is clear again. He sears on in Satyaki’s wake.
He erupts out of the padma vyuha and sees a fulvous lion-banner before him, flapping in the breeze, while the chariot that flies it streaks on remorselessly through the suchimukha vyuha, piling the bloody dead in its wake. It is Satyaki decimating Duryodhana’s army, flying ever closer to Arjuna. Bheema swirls past the absorbed Yadava and shocked at the Vayuputra’s sudden appearance, the Kau-ravas dare not come near him.
On hurtles Bheema and then his eyes light up: ahead of him and not far, he sees another banner waving. He sees a white and gold chariot shining like treasure, yoked to foam-white horses and throwing back his head, Bheema gives the most magnificent roar! Like an earthquake, that joyful sound rocks Kurukshetra. Krishna and Arjuna hear it, the rapt Satyaki hears it; and all of them yell one another’s names, back and forth, on top of their voices.
Over the ruins of two vyuhas, that sound carries to Yudhishtira. He jumps up and such a smile breaks out on his careworn face. “Arjuna is alive!” cries Yudhishtira. “Satyaki is alive, Krishna is alive and Bheema has found them! He has always done anything I asked him to, but never before has he made me as happy as he has today. My friends, Yudhishtira is the most fortunate man on earth!”
The Kauravas hear those roars, all over Kurukshetra and know that Arjuna does not hunt Jay-adratha alone any more. Karna hears Bheema’s roar and its arrogance infuriates him. He rides to challenge Bheema. Like a sunburst comes Karna, arrows streaming. The son of Surya and the son of Vayu meet in battle; Bheema brushes aside his brother’s volleys and casts a silvery mantle of his own over Karna. The Kaurava soldiers, who have heard only of Bheema’s prowess at the mace, are agape at his archery. Bheema breaks Karna’s bow; unruffled, the Suryaputra snatches up another and fights on.
More than anything else, the cool, mocking smile on Karna’s lips enrages Bheema. He tries to outdo himself, to be more of an archer than he really is. His aim falters, as he shoots too quickly; while Karna fights calmly, well within himself, his every arrow sharp and true to its mark. Soon, the difference between the two is plain and who the great bowman is. His touch deft and light, Karna is as quick as thinking. The indulgent smile never leaves his face, but Bheema’s turns crimson with effort. His eyes bulge, he growls and curses.
Karna knows how easily he can end this duel. Any time he wants he can break the bow in Bheema’s great hands. But then, Karna also knows Bheema is his brother and strange love fills his heart for the wild kshatriya before him. Karna never fights as he can. Instead, he slackens his own archery deceptively and allows Bheema to break his bow for the second time. Bheema’s cry of delight is reward enough; Karna’s eyes are filmed with tears.
However, Bheema does not fight a brother, but a hated enemy. He kills two of his horses, wounds his sarathy and Karna himself. A shadow of annoyance crosses Karna’s sere face and he leaps into his son Vrishasena’s chariot. Bheema’s roar echoes there again: he has the better of the lord of Anga and his way to Arjuna is clear once more.
Bheema rides on. But as if he enjoyed the encounter with his uninhibited brother, Karna tilts at him again from a flank. Bheema gives an angry shout, never realizing that for Karna this battle is a chance to be near him, near enough almost to caress his brother. Indeed, Karna wants to leap down from his chariot, run to Bheema and hug him; and to cry, ‘I am also Kunti’s son. Take me to Yudh-ishtira. I will fight for him from now!’
Bheema thinks Karna’s reputation is exaggerated. He yells, “You can’t stand before this Bheema, Sutaputra and you brag that you will kill my brother Arjuna?”
Bheema remembers the day of the gambling and begins to fight in anger. Karna finds it less easy to hold him off without hurting him. Bheema carves his chariot again. Duryodhana sees this and sends his brother Dussalan with a fresh chariot for Karna. But even as Karna climbs into it, Bheema takes off Dussalan’s head in a roseate burst. Duryodhana roars in sorrow and Bheema kills a hundred Kau-rava soldiers to celebrate.
Duryodhana panics. Trembling, he rides to Drona and cries hotly, “My lord, you swore not a man would enter your padma vyuha. But three kshatriyas are at the point of the suchimukha! Arjuna, Satyaki and Bheema have halved our legions. Our maharathikas who guard Jayadratha are hard-pressed to hold them off. I thought it was easier to imagine the sea dried up, than your vyuha smashed with such contempt!”
Drona has done his best and it has not been enough today. He says sharply, “What has happened can’t be undone: better think what to do next.”
Frothing, Duryodhana cries, “Jayadratha must not die! See that Arjuna does not reach him, Acharya. I count on you!”
The arrogance of the Kaurava’s tone strikes his master like a blow. He was being upbraided like a boy before all the soldiers: that three men had dodged around him, two like cowards. Between clenched teeth Drona hisses at Duryodhana, “All day I have fought like a man half my age and I have kept a whole army at bay. And if I had not, there wouldn’t be three, but three thousand kshatriyas at Jayadratha’s throat.
But it seems you don’t value what I have done. See to your precious brother-in-law yourself! You swore he would not be harmed. But this is not a game of dice, Duryodhana: this is war and you once cheated your enemies out of everything they had. Today the wager is your brother-in-law’s life and the dice are arrows. You have Brahma’s armor, go and save Jayadratha yourself.”
Duryodhana is too taken aback to reply. He is also afraid Drona will abandon him, if he annoys him any more. He turns his chariot and rides back toward the suchimukha vyuha. There, every moment, Arjuna claws his way nearer Jayadratha.