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The Mahabharata of Krishna Dwaipayana Vyasa, Volume 3 by or: Kisari Mohan Ganguli

o >> or: Kisari Mohan Ganguli >> The Mahabharata of Krishna Dwaipayana Vyasa, Volume 3




The End of Shalya-parva.









The Mahabharata

of

Krishna-Dwaipayana Vyasa

BOOK 10

Sauptika-parva



Translated into English Prose from the Original Sanskrit Text

by

Kisari Mohan Ganguli

[1883-1896]

Scanned and Proofed by Mantra Caitanya. Additional proofing and
formatting at sacred-texts.com, by J. B. Hare, October 2003.



1

Om! Having bowed down unto Narayana, and Nara the most exalted of male
beings, and unto the goddess Sarasvati, must the word Jaya be uttered!

Sanjaya said, "Those heroes then together proceeded towards the south. At
the hour of sunset they reached a spot near the (Kuru) encampment.
Letting their animals loose they became very much frightened. Reaching
then a forest, they secretly entered it. They took up their quarters
there at no great distance from the encampment. Cut and mangled with many
keen weapons, they breathed long and hot sighs, thinking of the Pandavas.
Hearing the loud noise made by the victorious Pandavas, they feared a
pursuit and therefore fled towards the east. Having proceeded for
sometime, their animals became tired and they themselves became thirsty.
Overpowered by wrath and vindictiveness, those great bowmen could not put
up with what had occurred, burning as they did with (grief at) the
slaughter of the king. They however, took rest for a while."

Dhritarashtra said, "The feat, O Sanjaya, that Bhima achieved seems to be
incredible, since my son who was struck down possessed the strength of
10,000 elephants. In manhood's prime and possessed of an adamantine
frame, he was not capable of being slain by any creature! Alas, even that
son of mine was struck down by the Pandavas in battle! Without doubt, O
Sanjaya, my heart is made of adamant, since it breaks not into a 1,000
fragments even after hearing of the slaughter of my hundred sons! Alas,
what will be the plight of myself and my spouse, an old couple destitute
of children! I dare not dwell in the dominions of Pandu's son! Having
been the sire of a king and a king myself, O Sanjaya, how shall I pass my
days as a slave obedient to the commands of Pandu's son! Having laid my
commands over the whole Earth and having stayed over the heads of all, O
Sanjaya, how shall I live now as a slave in wretchedness? How shall I be
able, O Sanjaya, to endure the words of Bhima who hath single-handed
slain a full hundred sons of mine? The words of the high-souled Vidura
have come to be realised! Alas, my son, O Sanjaya, did not listen to
those words! What, however, did Kritavarma and Kripa and Drona's son do
after my son Duryodhana had been unfairly stuck down?"

Sanjaya said, "They had not proceeded far, O king, when they stopped, for
they beheld a dense forest abounding with trees and creepers. Having
rested for a little while, they entered that great forest, proceeding on
their cars drawn by their excellent steeds whose thirst had been
assuaged. That forest abounded with diverse kinds of animals, and it
teemed with various species of birds. And it was covered with many trees
and creepers and was infested by numerous carnivorous creatures. Covered
with many pieces of water and adorned with various kinds of flowers, it
had many lakes overgrown with blue lotuses.

Having entered that dense forest, they cast their eyes about and saw a
gigantic banyan tree with thousands of branches. Repairing to the shade
of that tree, those great car-warriors, O king, those foremost of men,
saw that was the biggest tree in that forest. Alighting from their cars,
and letting loose their animals, they cleansed themselves duly and said
their evening prayers. The Sun then reached the Asta mountains, and
Night, the mother of the universe, came. The firmament, bespangled with
planets and stars, shone like an ornamented piece of brocade and
presented a highly agreeable spectacle. Those creatures that walk the
night began to howl and utter their cries at will, while they that walk
the day owned the influence of sleep. Awful became the noise of the
night-wandering animals. The carnivorous creatures became full of glee,
and the night, as it deepened, became dreadful.

At that hour, filled with grief and sorrow, Kritavarma and Kripa and
Drona's son all sat down together. Seated under that banyan, they began
to give expression to their sorrow in respect of that very matter: the
destruction that had taken place of both the Kurus and the Pandavas.
Heavy with sleep, they laid themselves down on the bare earth. They had
been exceedingly tired and greatly mangled with shafts. The two great
car-warriors, Kripa and Kritavarma, succumbed to sleep. However deserving
of happiness and undeserving of misery, they then lay stretched on the
bare ground. Indeed, O monarch, those two who had always slept on costly
beds now slept, like helpless persons, on the bare ground, afflicted with
toil and grief.

Drona's son, however, O Bharata, yielding to the influence of wrath and
reverence, could not sleep, but continued to breathe like a snake.
Burning with rage, he could not get a wink of slumber. That hero of
mighty arms cast his eyes on every side of that terrible forest. As he
surveyed that forest peopled with diverse kinds of creatures, the great
warrior beheld a large banyan covered with crows. On that banyan
thousands of crows roosted in the night. Each perching separately from
its neighbour, those crows slept at ease, O Kauravya! As, however, those
birds were sleeping securely on every side, Ashvatthama beheld an owl of
terrible aspect suddenly make its appearance there. Of frightful cries
and gigantic body, with green eyes and tawny plumage, its nose was very
large and its talons were long. And the speed with which it came
resembled that of Garuda. Uttering soft cries that winged creature, O
Bharata, secretly approached the branches of that banyan. That ranger of
the sky, that slayer of crows, alighting on one of the branches of the
banyan, slew a large number of his sleeping enemies. He tore the wings of
some and cut off the heads of others with his sharp talons and broke the
legs of many. Endued with great strength, he slew many that fell down
before his eyes. With the limbs and bodies, O monarch, of the slain
crows, the ground covered by the spreading branches of the banyan became
thickly strewn on every side. Having slain those crows, the owl became
filled with delight like a slayer of foes after having behaved towards
his foes according to his pleasure.

Beholding that highly suggestive deed perpetrated in the night by the
owl, Drona's son began to reflect on it, desirous of framing his own
conduct by the light of that example. He said unto himself, "This owl
teaches me a lesson in battle. Bent as I am upon the destruction of the
foe, the time for the deed has come! The victorious Pandavas are
incapable of being slain by me! They are possessed of might, endued with
perseverance, sure of aim, and skilled in smiting. In the presence,
however, of the king I have vowed to slay them. I have thus pledged
myself to a self-destructive act, like an insect essaying to rush into a
blazing fire! If I were to fight fairly with them, I shall, without
doubt, have to lay down my life! By an act of guile, however, success may
yet be mine and a great destruction may overtake my foes! People
generally, as also those versed in the scriptures, always applaud those
means which are certain over those which are uncertain. Whatever of
censure and evil repute this act may provoke ought to be incurred by
person that is observant of kshatriya practices. The Pandavas of
uncleansed souls have, at every step, perpetrated very ugly and
censurable acts that are again fall of guile. As regards this matter,
certain ancient verses, full of truth, are heard, sung by truth-seeing
and righteousness-observing persons, who sang them after a careful
consideration of the demands of justice.

These verses are even these: The enemy's force, even when fatigued, or
wounded with weapons, or employed in eating, or when retiring, or when
resting within their camp, should be smitten. They should be dealt with
in the same way when afflicted with sleep in the dead of night, or when
reft of commanders, or when broken or when under the impression of an
error.'"

Having reflected in this way, the valiant son of Drona formed the
resolution of slaying during the night the slumbering Pandavas and the
Pancalas. Having formed this wicked resolution and pledged himself
repeatedly to its execution, he awoke both his maternal uncle and the
chief of Bhojas. Awakened from sleep, those two illustrious and mighty
persons, Kripa and the Bhoja chief, heard Ashvatthama's scheme. Filled
with shame, both of them abstained from giving a suitable reply.

Having reflected for a short while, Ashvatthama said with tearful eyes,
"King Duryodhana, that one hero of great might, for whose sake we were
waging hostilities with the Pandavas, hath been slain! Deserted and
alone, though he was the lord of eleven akshauhinis of troops, that hero
of unstained prowess hath been struck down by Bhimasena and a large
number of wretches banded together in battle! Another wicked act hath
been perpetrated by the vile Vrikodara, for the latter hath touched with
his foot the head of a person whose coronal locks underwent the sacred
bath! The Pancalas are uttering loud roars and cries and indulging in
loud bursts of laughter. Filled with joy, they are blowing their conchs
and beating their drums! The loud peal of their instruments, mingled with
the blare of conchs, is frightful to the ear and borne by the winds, is
filling all the points of the compass. Loud also is the din made by their
neighing steeds and grunting elephants and roaring warriors! That
deafening noise made by the rejoicing warriors as they are marching to
their quarters, as also the frightful clatter of their car-wheels, comes
to us from the east. So great hath been the havoc made by the Pandavas on
the Dhartarashtras that we three are the only survivors of that great
carnage! Some were endued with the might of a hundred elephants, and some
were masters of all weapons. Yet have they been slain by the sons of
Pandu! I regard this to be an instance of the reverses brought about by
Time! Truly, this is the end to which such an act leads! Truly, although
the Pandavas have achieved such difficult feats, even this should be the
result of those feats! If your wisdom hath not been driven away by
stupefaction, then say what is proper for us to do in view of this
calamitous and grave affair.'"



2

Kripa said, "We have heard all that thou hast said, O puissant one!
Listen, however, to a few words of mine, O mighty armed one! All men are
subjected to and governed by these two forces, Destiny and Exertion.
There is nothing higher than these two. Our acts do not become successful
in consequence of destiny alone, nor of exertion alone, O best of men!
Success springs from the union of the two. All purposes, high and low,
are dependent on a union of those two. In the whole world, it is through
these two that men are seen to act as also to abstain. What result is
produced by the clouds pouring upon a mountain? What results are not
produced by them pouring upon a cultivated field? Exertion, where destiny
is not auspicious, and absence of exertion where destiny is auspicious,
both these are fruitless! What I have said before (about the union of the
two) is the truth. If the rains properly moisten a well-tilled soil, the
seed produces great results. Human success is of this nature.

Sometimes, Destiny, having settled a course of events, acts of itself
(without waiting for exertion). For all that, the wise, aided by skill
have recourse to exertion. All the purposes of human acts, O bull among
men, are accomplished by the aid of those two together. Influenced by
these two, men are seen to strive or abstain. Recourse may be had to
exertion. But exertion succeeds through destiny. It is in consequence
also of destiny that one who sets himself to work, depending on exertion,
attains to success. The exertion, however, of even a competent man, even
when well directed, is without the concurrence of destiny, seen in the
world to be unproductive of fruit. Those, therefore, among men, that are
idle and without intelligence, disapprove of exertion. This however, is
not the opinion of the wise.

Generally, an act performed is not seen to be unproductive of fruit in
the world. The absent of action, again, is seen to be productive of grave
misery. A person obtaining something of itself without having made any
efforts, as also one not obtaining anything even after exertion, is not
to be seen. One who is busy in action is capable of supporting life. He,
on the other hand, that is idle, never obtains happiness. In this world
of men it is generally seen that they that are addicted to action are
always inspired by the desire of earning good. If one devoted to action
succeeds in gaining his object or fails to obtain the fruit of his acts,
he does not become censurable in any respect. If anyone in the world is
seen to luxuriously enjoy the fruits of action without doing any action,
he is generally seen to incur ridicule and become an object of hatred. He
who, disregarding this rule about action, liveth otherwise, is said to do
an injury to himself. This is the opinion of those that are endued with
intelligence.

Efforts become unproductive of fruits in consequence of these two
reasons: destiny without exertion and exertion without destiny. Without
exertion, no act in this world becomes successful. Devoted to action and
endued with skill, that person, however, who, having bowed down to the
gods, seeks, the accomplishment of his objects, is never lost. The same
is the case with one who, desirous of success, properly waits upon the
aged, asks of them what is for his good, and obeys their beneficial
counsels. Men approved by the old should always be solicited for counsel
while one has recourse to exertion. These men are the infallible root of
means, and success is dependent on means. He who applies his efforts
after listening to the words of the old, soon reaps abundant fruits from
those efforts. That man who, without reverence and respect for others
(capable of giving him good counsel), seeks the accomplishment of his
purposes, moved by passion, anger, fear, and avarice, soon loses his
prosperity.

This Duryodhana, stained by covetousness and bereft of foresight, had
without taking counsel, foolishly commenced to seek the accomplishment of
an undigested project. Disregarding all his well-wishers and taking
counsel with only the wicked, he had, though dissuaded, waged hostilities
with the Pandavas who are his superiors in all good qualities. He had,
from the beginning, been very wicked. He could not restrain himself. He
did not do the bidding of friends. For all that, he is now burning in
grief and amid calamity. As regards ourselves since we have followed that
sinful wretch, this great calamity hath, therefore, overtaken us! This
great calamity has scorched my understanding. Plunged in reflection, I
fail to see what is for our good!

A man that is stupefied himself should ask counsel of his friends. In
such friends he hath his understanding, his humility, and his prosperity.
One's actions should have their root in them. That should be done which
intelligent friends, having settled by their understanding, should
counsel. Let us, therefore, repair to Dhritarashtra and Gandhari and the
high-souled Vidura and ask them as what we should do. Asked by us, they
will say what, after all this, is for our good. We should do what they
say. Even this is my certain resolution. Those men whose acts do not
succeed even after the application of exertion, should, without doubt, be
regarded as afflicted by destiny."



3

Sanjaya said, "Hearing these words of Kripa that were auspicious and
fraught with morality and profit, Ashvatthama, O monarch, became
overwhelmed with sorrow and grief. Burning with grief as if with a
blazing fire, he formed a wicked resolution and then addressed them both
saying, "The faculty of understanding is different in different men. Each
man, however, is pleased with own understanding. Every man regards
himself more intelligent than others. Everyone respects his own
understanding and accords it great praise. Everyone's own wisdom is with
every one a subject of praise. Everyone speaks ill of the wisdom of
others, and well of his own, in all instances. Men whose judgements agree
with respect to any unattained object, even though there be a variety of
considerations, become gratified with and applaud one another. The
judgements, again, of the same men, overwhelmed with reverses through the
influence of time, become opposed to one another. More particularly, in
consequence of the diversity of human intellects, judgements necessarily
differ when intellects are clouded.

As a skilful physician, having duly diagnosed a disease, prescribes a
medicine by the application of his intelligence for effecting a cure,
even so men, for the accomplishment of their acts, use their
intelligence, aided by their own wisdom. What they do is again
disapproved by others. A man, in youth, is affected by one kind of
understanding. In middle age, the same does not prevail with him, and in
the period of decay, a different kind of understanding becomes agreeable
to him. When fallen into terrible distress or when visited by great
prosperity, the understanding of a person, O chief of the Bhojas, is seen
to be much afflicted. In one and the same person, through want of wisdom,
the understanding becomes different at different times. That
understanding which at one time is acceptable becomes the reverse of that
at another time.

Having resolved, however, according to one's wisdom, that resolution
which is excellent should be endeavoured to be accomplished. Such
resolution, therefore, should force him to put forth exertion. All
persons, O chief of the Bhojas, joyfully begin to act, even in respect of
enterprises that lead to death, in the belief that those enterprises are
achievable by them. All men, relying on their own judgements and wisdom,
endeavour to accomplish diverse purposes, knowing them to be beneficial.
The resolution that has possessed my mind today in consequence of our
great calamity, as something that is capable of dispelling my grief, I
will now disclose unto both of you.

The Creator, having formed his creatures, assigned unto each his
occupation. As regards the different orders, he gave unto each a portion
of excellence. Unto brahmanas he assigned that foremost of all things,
the Veda. Unto the kshatriya he assigned superior energy. Unto the
vaishya he gave skill, and unto the shudra he gave the duty of serving
the three other classes. Hence, a brahmana without self-restraint is
censurable. A kshatriya without energy is base. A vaishya without skill
is worthy of dispraise, as also a shudra who is bereft of humility (to
the other orders).

I am born in an adorable and high family of brahmanas. Through ill-luck,
however, I am wedded to kshatriya practices. If, conversant as I am with
kshatriya duties, I adopt now the duties of a brahmana and achieve a high
object (the purification of self under such injuries), that course would
not be consistent with nobleness. I hold an excellent bow and excellent
weapons in battle. If I do not avenge the slaughter of my sire, how shall
I open my mouth in the midst of men? Paying regard to kshatriya duties,
therefore, without hesitation, I shall today walk in the steps of my
high-souled sire and the king.

The Pancalas, elated with victory, will trustfully sleep tonight, having
put off their armour and in great glee, and filled with happiness at the
thought of the victory they have won, and spent with toil and exertion.
While sleeping at their ease during the night within their own camp, I
shall make a great and terrible assault upon their camp. Like Maghavat
slaying the danavas, I shall, attacking them while senseless and dead in
sleep in their camp, slay them all, putting forth my prowess. Like a
blazing fire consuming a heap of dry grass, I shall slay all of them
assembled in one place with their leader Dhrishtadyumna! Having slain the
Pancalas, I shall obtain peace of mind, O best of men! While engaged in
the act of slaughter, I shall career in their midst like the wielder of
Pinaka, Rudra himself, in rage among living creatures. Having cut off and
slain all the Pancalas today, I shall then, in joy, afflict the sons of
Pandu in battle. Taking their lives one after another and causing the
earth to be strewn with the bodies of all the Pancalas, I shall pay off
the debt I owe to my sire. I shall today make the Pancalas follow in the
wake, hard to tread, of Duryodhana and Karna and Bhishma, and the ruler
of the Sindhus. Putting forth my might, I shall tonight grind the head,
like that of any animal, of Dhrishtadyumna, the king of the Pancalas! I
shall tonight, O son of Gautama, cut off with my sharp sword, in battle,
the sleeping sons of the Pancalas and the Pandavas. Having exterminated
the Pancalas army tonight while sunk in sleep, I shall, O thou of great
intelligence, obtain great happiness and regard myself to have done my
duty!"



4

Kripa said, "By good luck, O thou of unfading glory, thy heart is set
today on vengeance. The wielder of the thunder himself will not succeed
in dissuading thee today. Both of us, however, shall accompany thee in
the morning. Putting off thy armour and taking down thy standard, take
rest for this night. I shall accompany thee, as also Kritavarma of the
Satvata race, clad in mail and riding on our cars, while thou shalt
proceed against the foe. United with ourselves, thou shalt slay the foes,
the Pancalas with all their followers, tomorrow in press of battle,
putting forth thy prowess, O foremost of car-warriors! If thou puttest
forth thy prowess, thou art quite competent to achieve that fear! Take
rest, therefore, for this night. Thou hast kept thyself awake for many a
night. Having rested and slept, and having become quite refreshed, O
giver of honours, encounter the foe in battle! Thou shalt then slay the
enemy, without doubt. No one, not even Vasava amongst the gods, would
venture to vanquish thee armed with foremost of weapons, O first of
car-warriors! Who is there that would, even if he be the chief of the
gods himself, fight Drona's son, when the latter proceeds, accompanied by
Kripa and protected by Kritavarma? Therefore, having rested and slept
this night and shaken off fatigue, we shall slay the foe tomorrow
morning! Thou art a master of celestial weapons. I also am so, without
doubt. This hero of Satvata's race is a mighty bowman, always skilled in
battle. All of us, uniting together, O son, shall succeed in slaying our
assembled foes in battle by putting forth our might. Great shall be our
happiness then! Dispelling thy anxieties, rest for this night and sleep
happily! Myself and Kritavarma, both armed with bows and capable of
scorching our enemies, will, clad in mail, follow thee, O best of men,
while thou shalt proceed on thy car against the enemy. Proceeding to
their camp and proclaiming thy name in battle, thou shalt then make a
great slaughter of the foe. Tomorrow morning, in broad daylight, having
caused a great slaughter among them thou shalt sport like Shakra after
the slaughter of great asuras. Thou art quite competent to vanquish the
army of the Pancalas in battle like the slayer of the danavas in
vanquishing in rage the danava host. United with myself in battle and
protected by Kritavarma, thou art incapable of being withstood by the
wielder of the thunderbolt himself.

Neither I, O son, nor Kritavarma, will ever retreat from battle without
having vanquished the Pandavas! Having slain the angry Pancalas along
with the Pandavas, we shall come away, or slain by them, we shall proceed
to heaven. By every means in our power, we two shall render thee
assistance in battle tomorrow morning. O thou of mighty arms, I tell thee
the truth, O sinless one!"

Addressed in these beneficial words by his maternal uncle, the son of
Drona, with eyes red in rage, answered his uncle, O king, saying, Where
can a person that is afflicted, or one that is under the influence of
rage, or one whose heart is always engaged in revolving projects for the
acquisition of wealth, or one that is under the power of lust, obtain
sleep? Behold, all these four causes are present in my case. Anyone of
these, singly would destroy sleep. How great is the grief of that person
whose heart is always thinking of the slaughter of his sire! My heart is
now burning day and night. I fail to obtain peace. The way in which my
sire in particular was slain by those sinful wretches hath been witnessed
by you all. The thought of that slaughter is cutting all my vitals. How
could a person like me live for even a moment after hearing the Pancalas
say that they have slain my father? I cannot bear the thought of
supporting life without having slain Dhrishtadyumna in battle. In
consequence of the slaughter of my father he hath become slayable by me,
as also all with whom he is united. Who is there so hard-hearted that
would not burn after having heard the lamentations that I have heard of
the king lying with broken thighs? Who is there so destitute of
compassion whose eyes would not be filled with tears after hearing such
words uttered by the king with broken thighs? They whose side was adopted
by me have been vanquished. The thought of this enhances my sorrow as a
rush of waters enhances the sea.

Copyright (c) 2007. bestextbooks.com. All rights reserved.

Various - "The Atlantic Monthly, Vol. 12, No. 74, December, 1863"

Various - "The Nursery, Number 164"

H. L. Gordon - "The Feast of the Virgins and Other Poems"

Harold Begbie - "The Mirrors of Downing Street"

Poster poems: Ballads
Articles published by guardian.co.uk Books

Fidel and Che: a revolutionary friendship

After last week's fairly open theme, I thought I'd go with something a bit more structured this time. As I type this, I'm listening to Steeleye Span and thinking about the great ballad traditions of Britain and Ireland. What is a ballad? I suppose the most inclusive definition would be that it's a singable narrative poem: that covers a multitude but will do for the moment.

Ballads in English stretch back to the middle ages, with fine examples to be found among the Scottish border ballads and the English Robin Hood poems. These early ballads are among the best-known poems and stories in the language, and form part of the common heritage of English speakers everywhere. They gave rise to a tradition of ballad-making that endures down to the present day.

In fact, most poets since have tried their hand at the ballad at one time or another, and the result has been to deny any definition more specific than the one I ventured in my first paragraph. If you look around the internet, you'll come up with a wide selection of poems that are called ballads but have little in common formally. Stanza length varies from two to 10 or more lines, and all sorts of metrical and rhyming patterns are used. A good number will be singable in only the loosest possible sense, and at times the narrative tends to get lost in a mesh of more-or-less successful verbal embroidery.

So, what should a ballad be? Well, "proper" ballad stanzas are quatrains in which the first and third lines have four stresses and the second and third have three. The lines will rhyme A-B-C-B or A-B-A-B. It's as simple, and as difficult, as that. Here's an example, from Robert Burns's extremely singable Comin Thro' the Rye:

Gin a body meet a body
          Comin thro' the rye,
Gin a body kiss a body –
          Need a body cry.

Burns wrote a good number of ballads, and his lead was followed by many 19th-century poets. Two examples that I particularly like are Robert Browning's Confessions and Christina Rossetti's Up-Hill, but you can find ballads by just about any Romantic or Victorian poet if you look for them.

There is a long, strong tradition of ballads and ballad singers in Ireland, too. It is hardly surprising, then, that the great appropriator of tradition, WB Yeats, tried his hand at the form. At least four of his poems have the word "ballad" in the title; the pick of the bunch, for my money, is The Ballad of Father Gilligan, which may have benefited from having been written with a specific tune in mind.

Ballads continued to be written in the 20th century; perhaps the most unexpected exponents were Ezra Pound, with his Ballad of the Goodly Fere, and WH Auden. In fact, the ballad The Quarry is probably my favourite Auden poem.

And so, this week I invite a chorus of balladeering. You may choose to go the whole hog and write in ballad stanzas or you might prefer to take a more liberal view of the formal requirements. Either way, sing up and – as they say at all the best Irish sessions when calling for a bit of hush for the singer – one voice please.

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When Argentinian doctor Che Guevara and Cuban lawyer Fidel Castro met in Mexico City, it was the beginning of a friendship that would change the world. Simon Reid-Henry talks about the contrasting personalities of the leading men in his groundbreaking dual biography, Fidel and Che