TWENTY-FIVE
Aswatthama blazes like Rudra in the night and no one can contain him. He consumes columns of the Pandava army with his astras; and when he shoots Ghatotkacha unconscious, Yudhishtira’s army runs from him in terror. As Aswatthama swirls forward, irresistibly, Drupada’s splendid sons appear out of the darkness in his way. But Drona’s son is master, tonight and he engages all the Panchala princes, at once and kills those that dare stand before him for too long. Seeing his sons die, Drupada comes roaring into the fray.
Meanwhile, Somadatta’s father Baahlika, the very oldest kshatriya to fight the great war, straddles Kurukshetra like a man half his age. Until he meets Bheema in the night. Many Pandava soldiers, who fought Baahlika as if he was too old to fight in earnest, have lost their lives tonight. Bheema makes no such mistake. He hurls his mace at the ancient and Baahlika falls, his head split open, his spirit escaped. Baahlika was even older than Bheeshma and a lament goes up at his fall. By the light of astras and the rushlights that some soldiers have lit, ten more of Dhritarashtra’s sons surround Bheema. The son of the wind fulfils another tenth part of his vow. Shakuni arrives with his legion and Bheema welcomes him by dispatching some Gandhara princes, Shakuni’s brothers.
There is another Pandava who fights as he has never done before: Yudhishtira burns the enemy like legions of dry grass. Drona rides at him. Kurukshetra is lit up, as the astras ruled by Varuna, Yama, Agni, Tvashtar and Savita flare at the Pandava. But Dharma’s son, the serene one, cuts them down even as his brother Arjuna might.
With Arjuna resting away from the field, Drona sees this as his best chance to take Yudhishtira. When the Acharya’s lesser astras prove ineffectual, Drona intones the mantra for the brahmastra. Yudhishtira hears the arcane chant across the darkness and at once, he summons the same weapon. When brahmastra and brahmastra spume at each other and lock on high, it seems the night has ended abruptly. The Pandava army roars its delight to see Yudhishtira match Drona so wonderfully. The Acharya has no answer to the Pandava king’s valor. He rides away from his sishya and the hapless army feels his wrath.
Thousands perish in the dark: their lives put out with arrows they never see from Drona’s bow. Then, from two sides, two Devaputras ride to take up their guru’s challenge. Bheema comes from the west of the battle, where he has been annihilating the enemy. Vayu’s son now rides with his bow in his hand, covering his master’s chariot in silver fire. From the south, in a ratha yoked to steeds white as milk, the moon, or the kunda flower, comes a greater archer than any other. A rested Arjuna rides into battle again, like Death himself. Drona shrinks before the combined assault and the Kaurava soldiers, sleepless and exhausted, their morale at its lowest ebb, run from the brothers like a herd of deer from two tigers.
But Bheema and Arjuna kill thousands in the dark and it seems the war will end this very night. Duryodhana rides to Karna at the edge of the field and cries, “The river of death breaks its banks! You must stop them, Karna, you are my only hope.”
Karna says, “I still have Indra’s Shakti. Arjuna will die by his father’s weapon; and when he dies, the rest will be easy to kill. I ride to bring you victory, Duryodhana. I will kill all the Pandavas for you. I will kill the Panchalas, too and lay the world at your feet!”
Kripa is beside them and the old warrior begins to laugh. Karna whirls round and Kripa says, “Such fine words, Karna! It is a pity that fine words don’t win wars, or Duryodhana would already be emperor of Bharatavarsha: for there is no one to match his friend Karna at bragging. You say that you will kill all the Pandavas and the Panchalas? Though they have Krishna with them! But we saw how you ran when you met just Arjuna by himself outside Virata. And today you could not stop him from killing Jayadratha. They say brahmanas make fine speeches and kshatriyas are men of deeds. But Karna is a master of building palaces in the air! I wish you fought as well as you boast.”
He laughs again. Red-eyed Karna cries, “I will show you tonight that Karna is not just a braggart. Duryodhana is the only one who loves me and I will lay the world at his feet!”
Kripa scoffs, “You are not master of your own mouth, Karna, then how will you master Arjuna? Wars are not won with boasts; in a few days Yudhishtira will sit upon the throne of the world. Krishna is with the Pandavas, they cannot be defeated.”
Karna growls, “I don’t doubt the Pandavas are great adversaries. Yudhishtira is the image of dharma and Arjuna is a brilliant archer. What is more, so far fate has been with them. But Arjuna is not immortal. Krishna avoided me today. He knows I have Indra’s Shakti and I can kill Arjuna with it!”
Kripa only laughs again. Karna draws his sword and snarls, “Another word and I will cut your tongue out, Brahmana!”
He actually rushes at Kripa; Aswatthama comes between them, his sword drawn too. “I will kill you for this, Karna!”
Then Duryodhana is among them, pulling Aswatthama away. Karna growls, “Let him go, Duryodhana. He always taunts me and I will kill him first and then the Pandavas.”
Duryodhana cries, “We have an enemy to face! Are we going to help them by killing each other?”
Kripa murmurs, “You are right. Let Arjuna quell this fool’s arrogance.”
Duryodhana says, “Aswatthama, this is no time to fall out among ourselves. Already, the enemy has the advantage. Countless men have died for us: we owe it to our dead to turn defeat into victory. I beg you, save your anger for the Pandavas. Karna is dear to me and he fights our cause.”
Aswatthama lowers his sword. Without another word, Karna mounts his chariot and rides into battle.