TWO
Karna bestrides Kurukshetra, a white flame, an incarnation of the living sun. Like Surya Deva over the earth at high noon, the sutaputra shines on Kurukshetra. Emboldened by him, the other Kaurava warriors begin to fight as never before.
Shakuni’s son, Uluka, routs Yuyutsu. Shakuni himself battles Sutasoma; and in rage at how Drona died, Kripa confronts Dhrishtadyumna. The Acharya fights as well as his slain brother-in-law and Dhrishtadyumna cannot face him at all. Kripa strikes him unconscious in his chariot. Dhrish-tadyumna’s sarathy bears his prince out of the battle. But crimson-eyed Kripa rides after him, determined to avenge death with death. This brahmana is fearsome today, as he hasn’t been so far.
Some way off, Shikhandi and Kritavarman duel and the inspired Yadava lacerates the Panchala. Shikhandi is almost struck out of his chariot by Kritavarman, but saves himself by clinging to his flag-post at the last moment, before he faints. His sarathy rushes him out of battle. Not far from one another, like three fires from Siva’s trident they rage: Kritavarman, Kripa and Karna. They kill thousands.
The Samsaptakas foolishly challenge Arjuna again. Seeing them reminds him of the day Abhi-manyu died and he lets them feel his wrath. The few he leaves alive, flee. Duryodhana and Yudhish-tira come face to face: the lords of the two armies. Seeing how Karna rules Kurukshetra gives heart to the Kaurava and he fights like ten men. The war would be won if he can kill Yudhishtira.
But his cousin, the Pandava, is here for dharma. After a brief, refulgent duel, Yudhishtira looses four arrows like one in the heart of a moment. Duryodhana’s horses fall, shot through their hearts. Yudhishtira’s fifth shaft takes his sarathy’s head from his neck, spraying Duryodhana with the man’s blood. The sixth cuts his serpent-banner down; the seventh strikes the bow from his hand. Yudhish-tira’s archery is elegant, effortless and the armies gaze at him.
Roaring, Duryodhana draws his sword, but the Pandava’s eighth arrow breaks it in two. Then, five arrows in a stream fling the Kaurava back against his flagstaff. Only the armor Drona gave him saves Duryodhana’s life. Yudhishtira raises his bow to end the war; like three wishes Karna, Aswatthama and Kripa appear to hold him off. The Pandava’s own kshatriyas arrive to join the fray and the battle spreads out again. But the moral victory belongs to Yudhishtira; he has the pleasure of seeing rage and shame on his cousin’s face.
The sun has begun to fall from his zenith and afternoon finds the Kaurava army melting before Bheema. He kills thousands and his roars resound above every other noise on Kurukshetra: above the whinnying of horses, the yells of kshatriyas, the whistling of a million arrows and, most of all, the piteous screams of those cut down.
Duryodhana mounts a fresh chariot and rides at Yudhishtira again. But the tide of dharma flows against the Kaurava and, once more, he finds swift humiliation. Yudhishtira casts a javelin at him and strikes him down. His new sarathy rides away with his king dazed on the floor of his ratha.
When Arjuna has inflicted sharp defeat on Aswatthama and Kritavarman, who challenged him, he turns on Karna. But Karna is invincible. He wounds both Arjuna and Krishna with some astounding archery, arrows like flights of bees and the other Pandavas rally round the white chariot. The sixteenth day of the dharma yuddha wears on and surely by now there is more death than life on yawning Kurukshetra. The sun slips to the horizon. Fearful that they may be asked to fight in the night, again, the soldiers on both sides begin to leave the field even before the signal is given to end the day’s battle.
Karna and Dhrishtadyumna order the twilight conches to sound and the armies are formally withdrawn. It has been a day when tens of thousands perished on both sides, but no kshatriya among them. The names of those thousands remain unknown, unrecorded; though, surely, they gave their most precious possession on the field of battle. This has always been the way of war, why, of life itself: that fame is an ornament worn by the few.
There is no elation or dejection in either camp. The honors of the day have been shared almost equally, even if the Kauravas have perhaps had the slight edge, because of Karna. After Drona’s frantic command, the war has been restored to an even tenor. With Karna, the Kaurava soldiers feel as if Bheeshma led them again and the Pandava legions are relieved as well.