Showing posts with label PDE Mahabharata: Dutt. Show all posts
Showing posts with label PDE Mahabharata: Dutt. Show all posts

Wednesday, April 1, 2009

PDE Mahabharata: The Contest


Reading Guide. Now that the Pandavas and Kauravas have been trained as warriors, they will display their skills in a tournament. In this excerpt from Dutt's verse adaptation, you will see how Bhima engages in a mock fight with Duryodhana that grows deadly serious, and then Arjuna is introduced; he displays the greatest skills of all the princes.

Image. You can see Arjuna's bow lifted in the air in the sculpture below; the sculpture is from the Kedareshwara temple in Halebidu in Karnataka, India.

Source. Mahabharata, Epic of the Bharatas, by Romesh C. Dutt (1898). [500 words] You can read more about the author here: Romesh Chunder Dutt.



Ekalavya | 17. The ContestKarna


Bhima came and proud Duryodhan with their maces lifted high,
Like two cliffs with lofty turrets cleaving through the azure sky.

In their warlike arms accoutred with their girded loins they stood,
Like two untamed jungle tuskers in the deep and echoing wood!

And as tuskers range the forest, so they range the spacious field,
Right to left and back they wander and their ponderous maces wield.

Unto Kuru's sightless monarch wise Vidura drew the scene,
Pritha proudly of the princes spake unto the Kuru queen.

While the stalwart Bhima battled with Duryodhan brave and strong,
Fierce in wrath, for one or other, shouted forth the maddened throng,

"Hail to Kuru prince Duryodhan!" "Hail to Bhima hero proud!"
Sounds like these from surging myriads rose in tumult deep and loud,

And with troubled vision Drona marked the heaving restless plain,
Marked the crowd by anger shaken, like the tempest-shaken main.

To his son he softly whispered quick the tumult to appease,
Part the armed and angry wrestlers, bid the deadly combat cease;

With their lifted clubs the princes slow retired on signal given,
Like the parting of the billows, mighty-heaving, tempest-driven!

Came forth then the ancient Drona on the open battle-ground,
Stopped the drum and lofty trumpet, spake in voice like thunder's sound:

"Bid him come, the gallant Arjun! Pious prince and warrior skilled,
Arjun, born of mighty Indra, and with Vishnu's prowess filled."

Gauntleted and jewel-girdled, with his bow of ample height,
Archer Arjun pious-hearted to the gods performed a rite,

Then he stepped forth proud and stately in his golden mail encased,
Like the sunlit cloud of evening with the golden rainbow graced,

And a gladness stirred the people all around the listed plain,
Voice of drum and blare of trumpet rose with shankha's festive strain!

"Mark! The gallant son of Pandu, whom the happy Pritha bore,
Mark! The heir of Indra's valour, matchless in his arms and lore,

Mark! The warrior young and valiant, peerless in his skill of arms,
Mark! The prince of stainless virtue, decked with grace and varied charms!"

Pritha heard such grateful voices borne aloft unto the sky,
Milk of love suffused her bosom, tear of joy was in her eye!

And where rested Kuru's monarch, joyous accents struck his ear,
And he turned to wise Vidura seeking for the cause to hear:

"Wherefore like the voice of ocean, when the tempest winds prevail,
Rise the voices of the people and the spacious skies assail?"

Answered him the wise Vidura, "It is Pritha's gallant boy;
Godlike moves in golden armour, and the people shout for joy!"

"Pleased am I," so spake the monarch, "and I bless my happy fate,
Pritha's sons like fires of yajna sanctify this mighty State!"

Now the voices of the people died away and all was still;
Arjun to his proud preceptor showed his might and matchless skill.

Towering high or lowly bending, on the turf or on his car,
With his bow and glist'ning arrows, Arjun waged the mimic war,

Targets on the wide arena, mighty tough or wondrous small,
With his arrows still unfailing, Arjun pierced them one and all!

Wild-boar shaped in plates of iron coursed the wide-extending field,
In its jaws five glist'ning arrows sent the archer wondrous-skilled;

Cow-horn by a thread suspended was by winds unceasing swayed,
One and twenty well-aimed arrows on this moving mark he laid,

And with equal skill his rapier did the godlike Arjun wield,
Whirling round the mace of battle ranged the spacious tourney field!


Ekalavya | The Contest | Karna




Wednesday, December 31, 2008

PDE Mahabharata: Draupadi Lost


Reading Guide. As you will see in this episode, Draupadi's fate is an essential part of the story here, and she protests eloquently and loudly about the events that have taken place in the gambling hall.

Source. Mahabharata, Epic of the Bharatas, by Romesh C. Dutt (1898). [600 words]




Gambling Match | 38. Draupadi Lost | Assembly Hall


And as steals a lowly jackal in a lordly lion's den,
Base Duryodhan's humble menial came to proud Draupadi's ken.

"Pardon, Empress," quoth the menial, "royal Pandu's righteous son
Lost his game and lost his reason, Empress: thou art staked and won.

"Prince Duryodhan claims thee, lady, and the victor bids me say,
Thou shalt serve him as his vassal, as his slave in palace stay!"

"Have I heard thee, menial, rightly?" questioned she in anguish keen.
"Doth a crownéd king and husband stake his wife and lose his queen?

"Did my noble lord and monarch sense and reason lose at dice?
Other stake he did not wager, wedded wife to sacrifice!"

"Other stakes were duly wagered," so he spake with bitter groan.
"Wealth and empire, every object which Yudhishthir called his own,

"Lost himself and all his brothers, bondsmen are those princes brave.
Then he staked his wife and empress; thou art prince Duryodhan's slave!"

Rose the queen in queenly anger, and with woman's pride she spake,
"Hie thee, menial, to thy master; Queen Draupadi's answer take:

"If my lord, himself a bondsman, then hath staked his queen and wife,
False the stake, for owns a bondsman neither wealth nor other's life.

"Slave can wager wife nor children, and such action is undone.
Take my word to prince Duryodhan, Queen Draupadi is unwon!"

Wrathful was the proud Duryodhan when he heard the answer bold;
To his younger, wild Duhshasan, this his angry mandate told,

"Little-minded is the menial, and his heart in terror fails.
For the fear of wrathful Bhima, lo! his coward-bosom quails.

"Thou, Duhshasan, bid the princess as our humble slave appear.
Pandu's sons are humble bondsmen, and thy heart it owns no fear!"

Fierce Duhshasan heard the mandate, blood-shot was his flaming eye;
Forthwith to the inner chambers did with eager footsteps hie.

Proudly sat the fair Draupadi, monarch's daughter, monarch's wife;
Unto her the base Duhshasan spake the message, insult-rife,

"Lotus-eyed Panchala-princess, fairly staked and won at game,
Come and meet thy lord Duryodhan; chase that mantling blush of shame.

"Serve us as thy lords and masters, be our beauteous bright-eyed slave;
Come unto the Council Chamber, wait upon the young and brave!"

Proud Draupadi shakes with tremor at Duhshasan's hateful sight,
And she shades her eye and forehead, and her bloodless cheeks are white.

At his words her chaste heart sickens, and with wild averted eye
Unto rooms where dwelt the women, Queen Draupadi seeks to fly.

Vainly sped the trembling princess in her fear and in her shame;
By her streaming wavy tresses fierce Duhshasan held the dame!

Sacred locks, with holy water dewed at rajasuya rite,
And by mantra consecrated, fragrant, flowing, raven-bright:

Base Duhshasan by those tresses held the faint and flying queen,
Feared no more the sons of Pandu, nor their vengeance fierce and keen,

Dragged her in her slipping garments by her long and trailing hair,
And, like sapling tempest-shaken, wept and shook the trembling fair!

Stooping in her shame and anguish, pale with wrath and woman's fear,
Trembling and in stifled accents, thus she spake with streaming tear,

"Leave me, shameless prince Duhshasan! Elders, noble lords are here;
Can a modest wedded woman thus in loose attire appear?"

Vain the words and soft entreaty which the weeping princess made,
Vainly to the gods and mortals she in bitter anguish prayed,

For with cruel words of insult still Duhshasan mocked her woe.
"Loosely clad or void of clothing, to the council hall you go.

"Slave-wench fairly staked and conquered, wait upon thy masters brave,
Live among our household menials, serve us as our willing slave!"


Gambling Match | Draupadi Lost Assembly Hall




Thursday, July 24, 2008

PDE Mahabharata: Drona in Command


Reading Guide. After Bhishma's fall, Drona takes command of Duryodhana's armies. and he vows to make Yudhishthira his prisoner, and Arjuna vows to defend his brother even at the cost of his own life.

Source. Mahabharata, Epic of the Bharatas, by Romesh C. Dutt (1898). [800 words]




Bhishma Falls | 62. Drona in Command | Abhimanyu


Morning ushered in the battle; Pandav warriors heard with dread
Drona priest and proud preceptor now the Kuru forces led,

And the foe-compelling Drona pledged his troth and solemn word,
He would take Yudhishthir captive to Hastina's haughty lord!

But the ever faithful Arjun to his virtuous elder bowed,
And in clear and manful accents spake his warlike thoughts aloud,

"Sacred is our great preceptor, sacred is acharya's life;
Arjun may not slay his teacher even in this mortal strife!

"Saving this, command, O monarch, Arjun's bow and warlike sword,
For thy safety, honoured elder, Arjun stakes his plighted word,

"Matchless in the art of battle is our teacher fierce and dread,
But he comes not to Yudhishthir save o'er blood of Arjun shed!"

Morning witnessed doughty Drona foremost in the battle's tide,
But Yudhishthir's warlike chieftains compassed him on every side.

Foremost of the youthful chieftains came resistless Arjun's son —
Father's blood and milk of mothers fired his deeds of valour done!

As the lion of the jungle drags the ox into his lair,
Abhimanyu from his chariot draggled Paurava by the hair.

Jayadratha king of Sindhu marked the faint and captive chief,
Leaping from his car of battle, wrathful, came to his relief.

Abhimanyu left his captive, turned upon the mightier foe,
And with sword and hardened buckler gave and parried many a blow!

Rank to rank from both the forces cry of admiration rose,
Streaming men poured forth in wonder, watched the combat fierce and close:

Piercing Abhimanyu's buckler Jayadratha sent his stroke,
But the turned and twisted sword-blade snapping in the midway broke!

Weaponless the king of Sindhu ran into his sheltering car;
Shalya came unto his rescue from a battle-field afar.

Dauntless, on the new assailant Arjun's son his weapon drew,
Interposing 'twixt the fighters Bhima's self on Shalya flew!

Stoutest wrestlers in the armies, fiercest fighters with the mace,
Bhima and the stalwart Shalya stood as rivals face to face;

Hempen fastening bound their maces and the wire of twisted gold,
Whirling bright in circling flashes, shook their staff the warriors bold!

Oft they struck, and sparks of red fire issued from the seasoned wood,
And like hornéd bulls infuriate Madra's king and Bhima stood.

Closer still they came like tigers closing with their reddened paws,
Or like tuskers with their red tusks, eagles with their rending claws!

Loud as Indra's peals of thunder still their blows were echoed round;
Rank to rank the startled soldiers heard the oft-repeated sound.

But as strikes in vain the lightning on the solid mountain-rock,
Bhima nor the fearless Shalya fell or moved beneath the shock!

Closer drew the wrathful heroes and their clubs were wielded well,
Till by many blows belaboured both the fainting fighters fell.

Like a drunkard dazed and reeling Bhima rose his staff to wield.
Senseless Shalya, heavy-breathing, henchman carried from the field;

Writhing like a wounded serpent, lifted from the field of war,
He was carried by his soldiers to the shelter of his car!

Drona still with matchless prowess strove to keep his plighted word,
Sought to take Yudhishthir captive to Duryodhan, Kuru's lord,

Vainly then the twin-born brothers came to cross the conqueror's path;
Matsya's lord, Panchala's monarch, vainly faced him in his wrath;

Rank to rank the cry resounded circling o'er the battle-field,
"Drona takes Yudhishthir captive with his bow and sword and shield!"

Arjun heard the dreadful message and in haste and fury came,
Strove to save his king and elder and redeem his loyal fame,

Speeding with his milk-white coursers dashed into the thick of war,
Blew his shrill and dreaded shankha, drove his sounding battle-car,

Fiercer, darker grew the battle, when above the reddened plain,
Evening drew her peaceful mantle o'er the living and the slain!

Morning came; still round Yudhishthir Drona led the gathering war,
Arjun fought the Samsaptakas in the battle-field afar,

But the prince of fair Panchala marked his father's ancient foe,
And against the doughty Drona, Dhrishtadyumna bent his bow!

But as darksome cloudy masses angry gusts of storm divide,
Through the scattered fainting foemen Drona drove his car in pride,

Steeds went down and riven chariots, young Panchala turned and fled,
Onward drove resistless Drona o'er the dying and the dead!

One more prince of fair Panchala 'gainst the mighty Drona came,
Ancient feud ran in the red blood of Panchala's chiefs of fame,

Fated youth! With reckless valour still he fought his father's foe,
Fought and fell; relentless Drona laid the brave Satyajit low!

Surging still like ocean's billows other Pandav warriors came,
To protect their virtuous monarch and redeem their ancient fame,

Came in various battle-chariots drawn by steeds of every hue,
Various were the chieftains' standards which the warring nations knew!

Now Duryodhan marked the foemen heaving like the rising tide,
And he faced the wrathful Bhima towering in his tameless pride.

Short the war, for proud Duryodhan wounded from the battle fled,
And his warriors from fair Anga rested with the countless dead!


Bhishma Falls | Drona in Command | Abhimanyu




Thursday, May 1, 2008

PDE Mahabharata: The Night Raid


Reading Guide. You will now read what is one of the most shocking episodes in the entire Battle of Kurukshetra: Ashwatthaman, seeking vengeance for the death of Drona, will seek to kill the Pandavas while they sleep.

Source. The prose is from Indian Myth and Legend by Donald A. Mackenzie (1913), and the verse is from Mahabharata, Epic of the Bharatas, by Romesh C. Dutt (1898). [400 words]




Duryodhana | 69. The Night Raid | Ashwatthaman


When night fell, the dying Duryodhana was visited on the battlefield by Ashwatthaman, son of Drona, and Kripa, and Kritavarman. Unto Ashwatthaman he gave permission to attack the Pandavas while yet they slumbered. Then Drona's son went forth in the darkness to glut his hunger for vengeance because that his sire had been slain. The pale stars looked down on the dead and the dying as Ashwatthamann crossed the battleplain and went stealthily towards the tents of his foemen, with Kripa and Kritavarman.

At the gate of the Pandava camp an awful figure rose up against the conspirators. Ashwatthamann was not afraid, and he fought with his adversary until he perceived that he was the god Shiva, the Blue-Throated Destroyer. Then Drona's son drew back, and on an altar he kindled a fire to worship the all-powerful deity. Then, having naught else to sacrifice, he cast his own body upon the flames. By this supremely pious act Shiva was propitiated; he accepted Drona's son and entered his body, saying, "Hitherto, for the sake of Krishna, have I protected the sons of Draupadi, but now their hour of doom hath come."

Then Ashwatthaman rushed into the camp and slaughtered with the cruel arm of vengeance.

Darkness fell upon the battle, proud Duryodhan dying lay,
But the slaughter of the combat closed not with the closing day:

Ancient feud and hatred linger after battle's sweeping flood,
And the father's deathless anger courseth in the children's blood.

Drona slept and gallant Drupad, for their earthly task was done:
Vengeance fired the son of Drona 'gainst the royal Drupad's son!

Sable shadows of the midnight fell o'er battle's silent plain,
Faintly shone the fitful planets on the dying and the slain,

And the vengeful son of Drona fired by omens dark and dread,
Stole into the tents of foemen with a soft and noiseless tread!

Dhristadyumna and Shikhandin, princes of Panchala's land,
Fell beneath the proud avenger Ashwatthaman's reeking hand,

Ay, where Drupad's sleeping grandsons, fair Draupadi's children lay,
Stole the cruel arm of vengeance, smothered them ere dawn of day!

Done the ghastly work of slaughter, Ashwatthaman bent his way
Where beside the limpid waters lone Duryodhan dying lay,

And Duryodhan blessed the hero with his feeble fleeting breath,
Joy of vengeance cheered his bosom and he died a happy death!

Duryodhana | The Night Raid | Ashwatthaman