As usual, Sanjaya walked into King Dhritarashtra’s private chamber a little before sunrise, when the grey of dawn had not yet deepened into crimson. He saw the king seated in a chair, his hair dishevelled, his face wan, his blind eyes straining to see.
‘Did you sleep well last night, O King?’ Sanjaya asked.
‘Are you teasing me?’ the king replied. ‘I have already told you that since the first day of this war, I haven’t had a wink. But last night, I had nightmares.’ Then, after a brief pause, he added, ‘Why do you bring me only sad news from the battlefield – about the slaying of my sons? I also feel very unhappy to hear about Bheeshma’s unwillingness to kill Arjuna, and Drona’s affection for the Pandavas. Sometimes I feel that you are also acting as a spokesman for my enemies.’
‘I think that, like your son, you are also losing your equipoise. How I wish you could reclaim your reason – your inner eye’s vision of the future. As for my reporting to you about the happenings on the battlefield, I have always spoken the truth – what my eyes see and my ears hear. Truth is always unpalatable, O King. It is like a bitter medicine which alone can cure a serious ailment. Time and again, Bheeshma and Drona have advised you and Duryodhana to make peace with the Pandavas and live like members of the same large family. But you would not listen. My heart bleeds to see the Kuru family heading for a disaster.
‘Why can’t you face the stark truth that victory is assured for the Pandavas? Not because Bheema and Arjuna are invincible warriors but because their cause is just. Above all, because Krishna is not just a charioteer but a divine spirit guiding the Pandavas at every step. So be prepared to listen to still more harrowing accounts of Duryodhana’s defeat and frustration on the battlefield. The first four days are only a prelude to the tragic play that will keep unfolding with ever greater pain and suffering for the Kauravas.’
Raising his right hand as if to silence Sanjaya, the king said, ‘Enough! Don’t rub salt in my raw wounds. It seems you are trying to demoralize me. Just wait a couple of days more, and you will see my son emerging triumphant.’
A brief silence now fell between Sanjaya and Dhritarashtra. Then the king said, ‘Why don’t you get back to your business, Sanjaya? Since I can now feel the sun’s warmth creeping into my chamber, it must be daybreak. Look out there and tell me how Bheeshma and Duryodhana plan to reverse the tide of the war.’
Sanjaya then closed his eyes as if to open the portals of his inner eyes and ears.
‘Yes, O King, I can see Bheeshma trying out a new formation for his army. I can also hear the trumpets blowing.’
Sanjaya then started to narrate, as usual, the course of the war.
What salvages the human mind from sinking into despondency is its urge to see something new every day – a new face, a new sunrise, a change of season or, for a commander, a different formation.
That day, Bheeshma chose makara – the crocodile formation for his army, hoping that it would yield better results. To counter this move, Arjuna and Dhrishtadyumna decided upon the hawk formation. While Yudhishthira was positioned at the bird’s tail, supported by Nakula and Sahadeva, Arjuna stationed his forces at its neck. Bheema was to be the hawk’s head and Dhrishtadyumna its eyes. Bheema placed his soldiers at the bird’s beak, ready to tear into the enemy’s body at any moment.
Bheema was the first to launch his frontal attack on the crocodile-shaped Kaurava army. It turned out to be a day of fierce duels – between Bheema and Bheeshma, Bheeshma and Arjuna and Satyaki and Bhurisravas.
Bheeshma was determined to kill Bheema and thus get at least one of the Pandavas out of the war. Under the impact of his arrows, Bheema almost reeled off his chariot. Seeing that his brother might not be able to withstand Bheeshma’s assault, Arjuna intervened. Thereafter began a deadly duel between the two great archers, each intercepting the other’s arrows as they clashed in mid-air.
As this duel was proceeding, Sikhandi’s chariot appeared on the scene. For a moment, Bheeshma ceased fighting against Arjuna and looked at Sikhandi, Drupada’s son. He saw in his adversary’s eyes the intense wrath of Amba, who had vowed to avenge herself – now reborn as a man. Since Bheeshma’s Kshatriya dharma would not permit him to attack a woman, he held back his bow and arrows. Understanding his grandfather’s predicament, Duryodhana drove himself between the two, jumped onto the old man’s chariot and whisked him away. A little more delay, and Sikhandi’s arrows would have wounded a weaponless Bheeshma, leaving the Kaurava army without its commander-in-chief.
Duryodhana then approached Drona and tried to cajole and flatter him, holding back his usual taunts, in order to spur him on to combat. Otherwise he saw another day slipping away.
‘O revered guru,’ he said, ‘am I not singularly fortunate to have a peerless warrior like you fighting on my side? There is nobody on this earth who could match you in battle. Arjuna and Bheema are, after all, your creations, and when the teacher confronts his pupils, his victory is inevitable. So, O my esteemed guru, do something to eliminate my enemies.’
Drona understood that Duryodhana was now singing another tune to rouse him against the Pandavas.
‘You know, Duryodhana, that I am already doing my best. But I have also told you several times that we are engaged in a futile exercise. We are destined to lose this war, pitted as we are against the forces of dharma and justice. Listen, O Duryodhana, Arjuna may have been my pupil, but now he is armed with Pasupata – and truth. So how can I vanquish him? Also, I see on his face a reflection of my own son, Asvatthama.’ As Drona trailed off, Duryodhana drove away, utterly disappointed to have on his side such reluctant warriors as Bheeshma and Drona. Both seemed unable to resolve the issue of their divided loyalty towards the Kauravas and Pandavas. If only he could have Radheya with him on the battlefield, he sighed.
On another front, Satyaki was engaged in a fierce combat with Bhurisravas, a close ally of Duryodhana. Since Satyaki had learnt archery from Arjuna, he fought with the same speed and dexterity. But after a short while, he began to feel the pressure of his adversary’s arrows. Seeing him driven into a corner, Satyaki’s sons plunged into the fight. But Bhurisravas’s arrows killed them in no time. The slaying of his sons now infuriated Satyaki, who jumped off his chariot, brandishing his sword. But his adversary instantly knocked it out of his hands. Right at this critical moment, Bheema came to Satyaki’s rescue and took him away in his chariot.
Before the battle ended for the day, Arjuna had killed hundreds of Duryodhana’s soldiers. There was so much devastation everywhere that the battlefield looked like a sea of blood.
Another sunset came as a relief to both armies. While Duryodhana again felt low, there were shouts of jubilation on the other side.