“Sanjaya continued, ‘The warrior, O king, thus clad in mail on the field
of battle, adored the thousand-rayed Aditya as he rose at morn. When the
thousand-rayed luminary, of splendour bright as burning gold, arose, and
the world became illumined, the battle once more commenced. The same
soldiers that were engaged with each other before the sunrise, once more
fought with each other, O Bharata, after the rise of the sun. Horsemen
engaged with car-warriors, and elephants with horsemen, and foot-soldiers
with elephants and horsemen with horsemen, O bull of Bharata’s race.
Sometimes unitedly and sometimes separately, the warriors, fell upon one
another in battle. Having fought vigorously in the night, many, tired
with exertion, and weak with hunger and thirst became deprived of their
senses. The uproar made of the blare of conchs, the beat of drums, the
roar of elephants, and the twang of out-stretched bows drawn with force
touched the very heavens, O king! The noise made also by rushing infantry
and falling weapons, and neighing steeds and rolling cars, and shouting
and roaring of warriors, became tremendous. That loud noise increasing
every minute, reached the heavens. The groans and wails of pain, on
falling and fallen foot-soldiers and car-warriors and elephants, became
exceedingly loud and pitiable as these were heard on the field. When the
engagement became general, both side slew each other’s own men and
animals. Hurled from the hands of heroes upon warriors and elephants,
heaps of swords were seen on the field, resembling heaps of cloths on the
washing ground. The sound, again, of uplifted and descending swords in
heroic arms resembled that of cloths thrashed for wash. That general
engagement then, in which the warriors encountered one another with
swords and scimitars and lances and battle-axes, became exceedingly
dreadful. The heroic combatants caused a river there, that ran its course
towards the regions of the dead. The blood of elephants and steeds and
human beings formed its current. Weapons formed its fish in profusion. It
was miry with blood and flesh. Wails of grief and pain formed its roar.
Banners and cloth formed its froth. Afflicted with shafts and darts, worn
with exertion, spent with toil on the (previous) night, and exceedingly
weakened, elephants and steeds, with limbs perfectly motionless, stood on
the field. With their arms (in beautiful attitudes) and with their
beautiful coats of mail, and heads decked with beautiful ear-rings, the
warriors, adorned with implements of battle, looked exceedingly
resplendent.[250] At that time, in consequence of the carnivorous animals
and the dead and the dying, there was no path for the cars all over the
field. Afflicted with shafts steeds of the noblest breed and high mettle,
resembling elephants (in size and strength), worn out with toil, were
seen to tremble with great effort, as they drew vehicles whose wheels had
sunk in the earth. The whole of that host, O Bharata, resembling the
ocean for vastness, then became agitated, and afflicted, inspired with
terror, with the exception only of Drona and Arjuna. Those two became the
refuge, these two became the saviours, of the warriors of their
respective sides. Others, encountering these two proceeded to the abode
of Yama. Then the vast host of the Kurus became greatly agitated, and the
Panchalas, huddled together, became no longer distinguishable. During
that great carnage of the Kshatriyas on earth, on that field of battle,
enhancing the terrors of the timid and looking like a crematorium neither
Karna, nor Drona, nor Arjuna, nor Yudhishthira, nor Bhimasena, nor the
twins, nor the Panchala prince, nor Satyaki, nor Duhsasana, nor Drona’s
son, nor Duryodhana nor Suvala’s son, nor Kripa, nor the ruler of the
Madras, nor Kritavarman, nor others, nor my own self, nor the earth, nor
points of the compass, could be seen, O king, for all of them, mingled
with the troops, were shrouded by clouds of dust. During the progress of
that fierce and terrible battle, when that dusty cloud arose, all thought
that night had once more come over the scene. Neither the Kauravas, nor
the Panchalas, nor the Pandavas, could be distinguished, nor the points
of the compass, nor the welkin, nor the earth, nor even land nor uneven
land. The warriors, desirous of victory, slew foes and friends, in fact,
all whom they could perceive by the touch of their hands. The earthly
dust that had arisen was soon dispelled by the winds that blew, and
drenched by the blood that was shed. Elephants and steeds and
car-warriors and foot-soldiers, bathed in blood, looked beautiful like
the (celestial) forest of Parijata. Then Duryodhana, Karna, Drona and
Duhsasana, these four (Kauravas) warriors engaged in battle with four of
the Pandava warriors. Duryodhana and his brothers, encountered the twins
(Nakula and Sahadeva). And Radha’s son engaged himself with Vrikodara,
and Arjuna with the son of Bharadwaja, all the troops, from every side,
looked on that terrible encounter. The car-warriors (of both armies
quietly) beheld that beautiful, that superhuman engagement between those
fierce and foremost of car-warriors conversant with every mode of
warfare, riding on their own beautiful cars that performed diverse
delightful evolutions. Endued with great prowess, struggling vigorously,
and each solicitous of vanquishing the other, they covered each other
with showers of shafts, like the clouds at the close of summer (pouring
torrents of rain). Those bulls among men, riding on their cars of solar
effulgence, looked beautiful like congregated masses of clouds in the
autumnal sky. Then those warriors, O monarch, filled with wrath and
desire of revenge, mighty bowmen all, challenging, rushed at one another
with great vigour like infuriated leaders of elephantine herds. Verily, O
king, death does not take place till its hour comes, since all those
warriors did not simultaneously perish in that battle. Strewn with lopped
off arms and legs, and heads decked with beautiful ear-rings, and bows
and arrows and lances and scimitars and battle-axes and (other kinds of)
axes, and Nalihas and razor-headed arrows and cloth-yard shafts and darts
and diverse kinds of beautiful armour, and beautiful cars broken into
pieces, and slain elephants and standardless cars broken like cities, and
vehicles dragged hither and thither with the speed of the wind by
driverless steeds in great fright, and a large number of well-decked
warriors of great courage, and fallen fans and coats of mail and
standards, and ornaments and robes and fragrant garlands, and chains of
gold and diadems and crowns and head-gears and rows of bells, and jewels
worn on breasts, and cuirasses and collars and gems that adorn
head-gears, the field of battle looked beautiful like the firmament
bespangled with stars.’
“‘Then there occurred an encounter between Duryodhana, filled with wrath
and desire of revenge, and Nakula filled with the same feelings. Madri’s
son cheerfully shooting hundreds of shafts, placed thy son on his right.
At this loud cheers were bestowed upon him. Placed on the right by his
cousin-brother in wrath, thy son king Duryodhana, filled with rage,
began, in battle, to wonderfully counteract Nakula from that very side.
Thereupon, Nakula, endued with great energy and acquainted with the
diverse course (in which a car may be conducted), began to resist thy son
who was engaged in counteracting him from his right. Duryodhana, however,
afflicting Nakula with showers of shafts and resisting him on every side,
caused him to turn back. All the troops applauded that feat (of thy son).
Then Nakula, addressing thy son, said, “Wait, Wait,” recollecting all his
woes caused by thy evil counsels.’”