Having tested each other’s mettle during the first two days, both armies were now determined to fight it out on the third day. Bheeshma was particularly anxious not to let his army be taken by surprise. All night he considered various options for his army, and finally he opted for the shape of Garuda, the hallowed eagle. While Kripa and Asvatthama were to hold their troops at the bird’s head, Jayadratha and the Trigartas were to form the eagle’s neck. The bird’s tail would be the massive army under the command of Brihadala, the king of Kosala. Drona was required to position his soldiers at the bird’s eye, while Bheeshma himself would be the Garuda’s beak to protect the Kaurava army from any surprise attack. As for Duryodhana and his brothers, they were directed to stand near the bird’s heart. A formidable formation indeed it was to meet any eventuality on the battlefield.
Dhrishtadyumna saw it all from his side, and planned his own formation to make his forces impregnable. He chose the shape of a crescent. While along its tip were stationed Virata and Drupada, supported by Dhrishtadyumna himself and his brother Sikhandi, on the right side of the horn were placed Bheema and his mighty son Ghatotkacha, who had just arrived that morning to fight alongside his father. At the heart of the crescent stood Yudhishthira with his contingent of elephants.
Both armies then faced each other, conscious that the day would bring in its wake nothing but vast devastation.
The day’s battle began with Bheeshma again unleashing his fury. Leading his forces deep into the Pandava ranks, his arrows laid low countless soldiers. Seeing him ride with such wanton fury, Bheema and his son Ghatotkacha blocked his advance. But when Duryodhana appeared on the scene to support his commander-inchief, Bheema turned towards him, with Ghatotkacha by his side. His son, who loomed like a huge mountain, fought so valiantly against Duryodhana’s soldiers that all spectators thought he was deadlier than even his father. As an arrow from Ghatotkacha’s bow pierced Duryodhana, he fell into a swoon. Seeing the Kaurava prince lying unconscious on the ground, Drona ordered his men to carry him away to safety.
When Duryodhana regained his consciousness, he leapt to his feet like a wounded tiger, his eyes flashing and his hands quaking with anger. He directed his fury at Bheeshma.
‘O grandfather, you must have been pleased to see me go down before my enemies,’ he taunted. ‘I have been observing that you are very soft on Arjuna and Bheema. Otherwise, you would not have let them carry another day. How I wish I had foreseen this. If your heart is not with me, why don’t you let me know it? I would then be happy to ask Radheya to take over the command from you.’
Bheesma just smiled and said, ‘You must learn to restrain yourself while addressing your elders… I am doing my duty and that should be clear to any fair-minded person.’ He paused. ‘However, I have already warned you several times that you have no chance against the Pandavas, particularly Arjuna whose Gandiva is unassailable. Of course, I love him, but I still promise to fight him with all my skill and strength. I have nothing more to say.’
Stung by Duryodhana’s taunt, Bheeshma now plunged into the battle with unprecedented vigour. His arrows fell fast and thick on the Pandava army, which was almost on the verge of a rout. Watching the havoc unleashed by him, Krishna turned to Arjuna and scolded him for his indulgence towards his grandfather. In a sense, both Duryodhana and Krishna found themselves in the same predicament. If Duryodhana blamed Bheeshma for his indulgent treatment of the Pandavas, Krishna was equally impatient with Arjuna who genuflected towards Bheeshma.
‘O Arjuna, you have not kept your promise to fight Bheeshma unreservedly,’ said Krishna. ‘I see that your Gandiva falters when you pick it up against the old man. As for myself, I am committed to helping Yudhishthira regain his kingdom. So let me again say that if you are unwilling to show your real mettle against this bloodthirsty man, I would feel constrained to jump into the battle myself to eliminate Duryodhana’s commander-in-chief. That would be a grievous breach of my vow not to fight in this war. But it seems that the moment has now come for me to use my Sudarsan chakra and manifest myself as the demolisher of evil – just as I killed Sisupala, who had crossed all limits of my patience.’
Delivering his threat, Krishna jumped off the chariot, holding his chakra in his right hand. But as he drew close to Bheeshma, he saw the old man drop his bow and arrows.
‘O Vasudeva,’ said Bheeshma, ‘how fortunate I would be to meet my death at your hands. You know, I have been waiting all these years to unite with my mother Ganga. So release me from this human bondage.’
Bheeshma had hardly finished speaking when Krishna felt Arjuna’s right hand tugging at his robe.
‘Please, O Lord, do not break your vow. Come back to our chariot, and I promise to carry out my task with ruthless vigour and commitment.’
Mollified, Krishna said, ‘If you promise to keep your word, I will not engage myself in battle.’
With these words, he returned to the chariot, put away his chakra and resumed control of the horses.
But just then, the shades of evening began to deepen. It seemed as if the sun was also a player in this game of war. To the soldiers on both sides, the sunset came as a godsend, offering them respite at least for the night. Tomorrow would be another day, another round of devastation.