WHEN
the eighth day dawned, Bhishma arrayed his army in tortoise formation.
Yudhishthira said to Dhrishtadyumna: "See there, the enemy is in kurma
vyuha (tortoise formation). You have to answer at once with a formation that
can break it." Dhrishtadyumna immediately proceeded to his task. The
Pandava forces were arrayed in a three-pronged formation. Bhima was at the head
of one prong, Satyaki of another, and Yudhishthira at the crest of the middle
division. Our ancestors had developed the science of war very well. It was not
reduced to writing but was preserved by tradition in the families of
kshatriyas. Armor and tactics were employed suitably to meet the weapons of offence
and the tactics that the enemy used in those days.
The
Kurukshetra battle was fought some thousands of years ago. Reading the story of
the battle in the Mahabharata, we should not, having the practice and incidents
of modern warfare in mind, reject the Mahabharata narrative as mere myth with
no relation to fact. Only about a century and a half ago, the English admiral
Nelson fought great sea battles and won undying renown. The weapons used and
the vessels that actually took part in Nelson's battles, would seem almost
weird and even ridiculous if compared with those of modern naval warfare. If a
hundred and fifty years can make so much difference, we must be prepared for
very strange things in the procedure and events of a period, so long back as
that of the Mahabharata war.
Another
matter to be kept in mind is that we cannot expect, in the books of poets and
literary writers, accurate or full details about weapons and tactics, although
the narrative may be of battles. Military affairs were in ancient times the
sole concern of the military order, the kshatriyas. Their culture and their
training were entirely their own charge. The principles and the secrets of
warfare and the science and art of the use of military weapons were handed down
from
generation
to generation by tradition and personal instruction. There were no military
textbooks and there was not any place for them in the works of poets and
rishis. If a modern novel deals in some chapters with the treatment and cure of
a sick person, we can not expect to see such details in it as might interest a
medical man. No author would care, even if he were able, to include scientific
details in his story. So, we cannot hope to find in the epic of Vyasa, precise
details as to what is tortoise formation or lotus formation. We have no
explanation as to how one could, by discharging a continuous stream of arrows,
build a defence around himself or intercept and cut missiles in transit, or how
one could be living when pierced all over by arrows, or how far the armor worn
by the soldiers and officers could protect them against missiles or what were
the ambulance arrangements or how the dead were disposed of.
All
these things appertaining to ancient war, however interesting, will have to be
in the realm of the unknown in spite of the vivid narrative we have in the
Mahabharata epic. Bhima killed eight of Dhritarashtra's sons early in the
battle that day. Duryodhana's heart lost courage before this. It seemed to his
friends as if Bhimasena would complete his revenge this very day, even as he
swore in the assembly ball, where the great outrage was enacted. Arjuna had a
great bereavement in this day's battle. His dear son Iravan was killed. This
son of Arjuna by his Naga wife had come and joined the Pandava forces at Kurukshetra.
Duryodhana sent his friend, the Rakshasa Alambasa, to oppose the Naga warrior.
Iravan was slain after a fierce fight. When Arjuna heard this, he broke down
completely. Said he turning to Vasudeva: "Vidura had indeed told us
plainly that both sides would be plunged in grief unbearable. What are we doing
all this wretched destruction up on one another for? Just for the sake of
property. After all this killing, what joy are we or they likely to find in the
end? O Madhusudana, I now see why the far seeing Yudhishthira said he would be
content if Duryodhana would give five villages to us, keeping everything else
to himself and he would not resort to fighting if that were agreed to.
Duryodhana, in his obstinate folly, refused to give even these five villages
and so, these great sins have to be committed on both sides. I continue
fighting only because men would otherwise think me a coward, who could submit
tamely to wrong. When I see the dead warriors lying on the field, my heart is
filled with unbearable anguish. Oh, how wicked we are to carry on in this
miserable, sinful way."
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