The sunset on the eighth day deepened into a dark night, with a sharp wind whistling all around. Far away, beyond the battlefield, Duryodhana could hear the wild beasts howling. The death of several of his brothers and the daily massacre of his soldiers had lacerated his heart. He kept tossing and turning in his bed, hounded by nightmares. For the first time, realization dawned upon him that he was destined to lose this war. Loneliness and despair seemed to drain all life out of him. Restless and anguished, he stepped out of his bed and began to pace up and down. Then suddenly he had an idea. Why not walk over to Radheya’s tent and share his uneasiness with the man he loved and trusted. If Radheya had taken charge of his army, he fancied, and not his grandfather, Arjuna would have been eliminated on the first day itself. His army too would have fought much more valiantly, bringing him success at the end of each day. Was it some malignant destiny that had scuttled all his plans?
A little later, Duryodhana, holding a taper in his hand, was walking towards Radheya’s tent. As he stepped inside, Radheya jerked up in his bed to see someone standing in front of him.
‘Who is it?’ he asked, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. Then, recognizing Duryodhana, he muttered: ‘Oh, it is you! Why are you here at this unearthly hour?’
‘I couldn’t sleep, dear Radheya,’ Duryodhana responded. ‘As you know, it was another bad day for us. By now, I have lost twenty-four of my brothers, besides hundreds of my soldiers.’
‘Nobody can predict anything in a war,’ Radheya said.
‘Look, I have come here to talk about something. I don’t blame Bheema or Arjuna, because they are my sworn enemies. But what about my grandfather, who hasn’t killed even one of the Pandavas so far? Isn’t it some kind of betrayal?’
Radheya looked at his friend and saw anger and anguish writ large on his face.
‘You already know,’ Radheya said, ‘that your commander-in-chief has a soft corner for them. Never would he kill any one of them, although he massacres hundreds of their soldiers every day.’
‘It doesn’t please me to see him sweeping like a whirlwind against the enemy forces,’ Duryodhana said. ‘If only he could kill Bheema, who is after my blood, and my brother Duhsasana’s! Or, if my grandfather could kill Arjuna, the war would end forthwith. I am utterly distraught. You alone can help me at this juncture, as you are my only source of comfort, dearer to me than all my brothers, or even my father.’
Hugging him fervently, Radheya said, ‘O dear friend, you know I have already offered you my life on a platter. Death holds no dread for me because I would take it as an honour to die fighting for you.’
‘Don’t say that, O Radheya,’ said Duryodhana. ‘If you were to be killed, I don’t know what I would do. That would be the end of the world for me.’ He paused. ‘My primary purpose for coming to you at this hour is to seek your advice. Don’t you think it is now time for me to ask my grandfather to let you take his place on the battlefield? To choose him as the chief of my army was a mistake. But it is never too late, you know.’
Radheya was deeply touched by Duryodhana’s offer to let him take command of the Kaurava army.
‘If I take over, you know that Arjuna’s death would be my primary goal.’
‘Would anything please me more, O Radheya?’ Duryodhana said. ‘Then let me walk over to Pitamaha’s tent and ask him to withdraw himself from the war. Of course, I will try to be as deferential and discreet as possible.’
‘Good luck to you,’ Radheya said. ‘I hope you will be able to sort it out, somehow.’
From Radheya’s tent, Duryodhana walked to his grandfather’s. He heard the old man snoring. ‘There he sleeps, soundly,’ Duryodhana said to himself, ‘while I am on the rack.’ When he touched Bheeshma’s feet, the old warrior opened his eyes. He was surprised to see Duryodhana standing near his bed.
‘What’s the matter, dear child?’ he asked. ‘Has something gone wrong?’
‘Everything, O grandfather,’ he replied. ‘I seem to have come to the end of my tether. For the first time, I have begun to feel that I am fated to lose this war, even though I have such stalwarts on my side as you, Drona, Kripa and Asvatthama.’
‘Why do you say that when daily I kill hundreds of our enemy soldiers? Drona too is fighting valiantly. So why should you feel worried?’
Duryodhana now glowered at the old man. ‘Pardon me if I say that you are solely responsible for my sorry plight. I don’t deny that you are a dread to the enemy soldiers. I would still not feel happy if you destroyed the entire enemy army but let the Pandavas slip through your fingers. Many a time, I have seen you pitted directly against Arjuna or Bheema, but your arrows would not strike either of them. On the contrary, I have heard you bless Arjuna each time his arrow hits you. So it is also with Drona. Both of you seem to be with my enemies while only pretending to be my supporters.’
‘Are you again trying to accuse me and Drona of duplicity?’ For a moment, the old man seemed to lose his temper. But he soon regained his composure. ‘Several times, you have accused us of dragging our feet. That shows your lack of understanding. Let me tell you for the hundredth time that I don’t have the power to kill the Pandavas – they are invincible. Besides, as the children of Pandu, they are as dear to me as yourself.’
‘Not as dear but far dearer than myself,’ taunted Duryodhana, now almost bursting with rage. ‘So why not be candid for once?’
‘You may take it as you wish,’ responded Bheeshma. ‘I would not kill them – that is it.’
‘In that case, why don’t you let me ask Radheya to fight for me? He would be happy to kill Arjuna.’
‘I know he is out to settle old scores with him for his humiliation at the open tournament. But let me tell you that even he would not be able to kill any of the Pandavas. I also wish to remind you that having given away his kavacha and gold earrings to Indra, Radheya is now virtually defenceless. Still, you may induct him into the war, if you are so impatient.’ Then, taking a deep breath, Bheeshma added in a despondent voice. ‘As for myself, dear child, I would feel too happy to be relieved of all my responsibilities. I already feel the weight of years on my shoulders. I think I have overstayed my time on this earth. It is time for me to retire. You may ponder over the entire matter dispassionately. Meanwhile, I will continue to do my duty as ordained by my father Santanu – to protect the throne of Hastinapur, in spite of your fulminations!’
Enraged, Duryodhana strode out of his grandfather’s tent, grinding his teeth. When he returned to his bed, sleep eluded him.
He lay awake and waited for another sunrise which, he knew, would bring him yet another day of defeat and frustration.