Epic Retold: The Mahabharata in Tweets (22 page)

The Virata prince wanted to be brave. After seeing Brihannala in battle, all that the boy could speak of was being a great warrior.

Drishtadyumna comes in, his face grim.

‘Uttara should not have been there,’ he says. ‘He was too young to have faced someone like Salya.’

Seeing Yudhistira isolated at one point, King Salya had attacked, hoping to capture him. Uttara had charged the enemy forces head on.

‘An honourable death,’ Yudhistira says.

Drishtadyumna shakes his head. He says, ‘That breach should never have happened. Someone else should have been there.

‘Karna kept away from the war today. Today should have been a good day for us. And it would have been—if everyone kept to positions!’

Arjuna rises abruptly and leaves. Sensing there is something I do not know, I follow him outside. ‘What happened on your front?’ I ask.

Arjuna stops. He looks ill. ‘I entered the battle late. I—I could not fight.’

Waiting for combat to commence, Arjuna had looked at the Kaurava front and became disheartened, seeing all the elders aligned against us.

All his teachers were there. The grandsire himself was in the lead. Arjuna did not want a kingdom stained with the blood of his elders.

Arjuna said he had asked Krishna to drive away at that point. As troops surged past to attack, Krishna had spoken to him at length.

Death is inevitable. All those who are born will die. What matters is not death, Krishna said, but the manner of life one lives.

In war, there are no killers, only warriors with indestructible souls. Death is the soul shedding worn-out clothes to dress in new garments.

‘He pointed to how Bhishma was conducting himself,’ Arjuna says, ‘How he was fighting us, his own blood.

‘But I am not Bhishma. I am not Drona or Kripa, past their prime. I am Arjuna! How can I pierce the throats of the men I should protect?’

I tell my brother, ‘Philosophy is not for me. But remember, except for Uncle Vidura, none of these men helped us.

‘Even the grandsire. For all his argument on our behalf, he stood by and watched us suffer. Where was his duty then?

‘Always, they have protected that Duryodhana. No, brother, they do not deserve your protection. They are our elders only in name.’

Arjuna walks away without words. Slowly, I return to Yudhistira’s tent.

Inside I notice the grieving Virata. Death, a change of clothes. I do not think that thought would console him.

GOOD WISHES

EPISODE 31

TWEETS 66

The protectors. They are our targets on the second day of battle.

The first day had shown us how insulated the Kaurava commanders are. Large forces, under designated kings, protect them.

With our smaller numbers, it is difficult to penetrate the enemy ranks. In one whole day of battle, I had caught sight of Duryodhana just once.

So, today, we target those tasked with guarding the commanders. We will destroy the bodyguards first.

‘They can afford to throw soldiers at us,’ Drishtadyumna says. ‘Engage selectively. Take out the leaders of the protecting troops.’

Our spies brought the welcome news that Karna would keep away from battle again. Bhishma had decreed that.

After Karna’s insolence, Bhishma had refused to have him under his charge. That was the condition on which the grandsire accepted command.

Today the army is arranged in the form of a flying crane. My division forms its beak. We will lead the offensive.

Behind me, at the neck, is Yudhistira. Nakula and Sahadeva are at the feet.

Troops under Drishtadyumna, Abhimanyu and Shikandi stand on the left wing. On the right, Arjuna, Satyaki and Drupada.

From my position at the top of the beak, I charge into the Kaurava soldiers at the blare of Drishtadyumna’s conch.

Yesterday I had fought defensively. Today I am free to attack.

Luck favours me early in the day when the man I have marked as target seeks me out himself.

After the first day’s battle, seeing how well the Kalinga troops covered Duryodhana, I had recognized them as a major threat.

To get to Duryodhana I needed to render them leaderless. So I am pleased to note the Kalinga king Srutayudha charging at me.

Srutayudha makes one mistake, though. He sends his elephant force first, hoping to overwhelm me.

He does not expect me to run straight at the lead elephant. Which madman would?

I grab its tusk with one hand. Launching myself into the air, I bring down my mace with great force on the centre of its forehead.

Struck on its vulnerable region, the tusker rears up in pain. It swings around in a circle, shaking its head to dislodge me.

Panic in the herd. Stampede!

I am flung aside. Mountains race over me, trumpeting. I do not know how I escape being trampled.

When I pick myself up dazed, Visoka is at my side. There is disbelief on his face as he helps me into the chariot.

‘What a stupid thing to do!’ he says angrily. ‘Is that the warcraft you have learnt?’

From the deck, I see our forces moving in to finish what I began. Srutayudha’s chariot lies shattered next to his broken body.

‘The Kalinga princes Sakradeva and Bhanumat also perished,’ Visoka reports. ‘What a sight!’

I salute the Kalingas in my mind. They were worthy opponents. They knew how to fight.

It is much later in the day that I turn to the left front. I arrive to see Drishtadyumna engaged in a spirited duel with Drona.

Arrows stream from two masterful bows as their chariots dance around each other. Several kings have stopped their own battles to watch.

Drishtadyumna’s vehicle suddenly comes to a halt. Drona’s arrow has found his charioteer.

Drishtadyumna leaps out with his mace. Even as the enemy bodyguards move to intercept, Drona knocks his weapon out with an arrow.

There is frustration on the Panchala prince’s face. He draws his sword, charges. Stringing another arrow, the old brahmin pauses.

As per the rules of war, Drona must not shoot at the dismounted Drishtadyumna. He must engage him on foot or give him time to remount.

But will the brahmin remember that now, when he has our commander-in-chief at his mercy? I do not wait to find out.

With a flick of his wrists, Visoka sends the horses plunging towards Drona. My bow comes alive.

When my first arrow thuds into his flagpole, Drona turns his attention to me. Stringy muscles stand out on his thin arms as he draws.

The old man’s speed of hand is impressive. But there is something in my mind, something from years ago, that makes me faster.

Fat fool, he had always called me. Good for nothing who should not be allowed to hold the bow!

My second salvo cuts his bow in half. As Drona hurriedly strings his spare bow, my fingers reach for the quiver again.

When I cut the bindings of the yoke, the horses bolt free, overturning the chariot. I laugh as the old man tumbles out.

I leap out to join Drishtadyumna on the ground. As we wreak vengeance on the interceptors, I see Drona being driven away to safety.

In the evening, in Yudhistira’s tent, Drishtadyumna is ecstatic. ‘An excellent day!’ he says. ‘You did well to get rid of Srutayudha!’

The person he cannot stop talking about, though, is Abhimanyu. The youth, supporting Satyaki, had caused grave damage to the enemy.

‘Only sixteen!’ Drishtadyumna says. ‘But what a fighter! You should have seen him on the front today!’

Abhimanyu looks embarrassed when Satyaki too begins to praise him. Quietly, he slips out. I follow, calling after him.

Outside, away from applauding eyes, my nephew is more talkative. Walking with me to my tent, he shares his observations of the day.

Trigartha’s force is ill-trained; Ashwathma needs to be contained; Kripa and Drona are of unerring eye, but tire too quickly.

I listen, amused and impressed. His first war—but what confidence!

‘And Uncle, you must watch brother Sarvada!’ he says. ‘He faced Trigartha’s troops by himself. I would not want him as my enemy!’

I swell with pride. Abhimanyu, Sarvada, Soothasoma, Prativindhya. Boys of fifteen and sixteen, already fighting men’s wars!

It is as the servant begins to place food before us that I hear the commotion outside. Visoka comes in running.

‘You will be pleased!’ he says, smiling. ‘Another group has come to join our army.’

Outside, the whole army seems to have lined up to watch the new arrivals.

I see a stream of carts drawn by bullocks the size of small elephants passing by. Wild horses. Then elephants. An army of foresters!

‘It is I. Ghatotkacha,’ a voice booms from the darkness. ‘I have come to fight, Father.’

He prostrates at my feet. When he gets up, I look at him, amazed. The boy who had presented me Jata’s head has changed much.

He towers over me. A leopard skin covers his waist and broad back. As before, slung over his left shoulder is a coil of rope.

‘Forgive my late arrival, Father,’ he says. ‘News travels slowly to us foresters!’

Ghatotkacha looks uncomfortable when Abhimanyu touches his feet. He tells me not to worry about his comforts. He has come prepared.

An unasked question trembles on my tongue. Perhaps sensing it, my son signals into the darkness. ‘There is someone with me,’ he says.

I stand stunned. What will I say?

The figure that emerges from the darkness is not the person I expect. It is Kirmeeran.

As I embrace the forester who has come to keep his promise made years ago, I wonder at the emotion washing over me. Why this relief?

Ghatotkacha takes my leave. Abhimanyu insists on going with him, to show him where his men can set up camp.

As Kirmeeran prepares to follow them, I ask in a low voice, ‘Hidimbi?’

‘She wishes you victory,’ he says. ‘She hopes you will be proud of your son.’

Hidimbi wishes me well and sends our son to fight by my side! The mountain atop my mind lifts a little.

BHISHMA

EPISODE 32

TWEETS 87

On the fourth day, I finally face Duryodhana.