IT
was the tenth day of the battle. Keeping Sikhandin in front of him, Arjuna
attacked Bhishma. When Sikhandin's darts
pierced his breast, sparks flew from the grandsire's eyes. For a moment the old
warrior's anger rose like flaming fire and his eyes glared as if to consume
Sikhandin. But, at once, the grandsire restrained himself. He decided not to be
provoked into fighting Sikhandin, who was born a woman and to strike whom it
seemed unworthy of a warrior. He knew, however, his end was near and calmed
himself. Sikhandin went on discharging his arrows, not minding the battle of
emotions in his opponent's mind. Arjuna also steeled his heart, and from behind
Sikhandin aimed arrows at the weak points in Bhishma's armor, even while the
grandsire stood still. Bhishma smiled as the arrows continued to come down
thick on him, and turning to Duhsasana, said: "Ah, these are Arjuna's
arrows! These cannot be Sikhandin's, for they burn my flesh as the crab's young
ones tear their mother's body."
Thus
did the grandsire look upon his dear pupil's arrows and, while saying this to
Duhsasana, he took up a javelin and hurled it at Arjuna. Arjuna met it with
three arrows which cut it to pieces even as it was speeding through the air.
Bhishma then decided to end the combat and made as if to dismount from his
chariot, sword and shield in hand. But before he could do so, his shield was
cut to pieces by Arjuna's arrows. With arrows sticking all over his body so
thickly that there was not even an inch of intervening space, Bhishma fell
headlong to the ground from his chariot. As he fell, the gods, who looked on
from above, folded their hands in reverent salutation and a gentle breeze,
laden with fragrance and cool raindrops, swept over the battlefield. Thus fell
the great and good Bhishma, the son of Ganga,
who came on earth to hallow it and all it bears.
The blameless hero who, unasked made the great
renunciation to give joy to his father. The undefeated bowman who had humbled
the pride of Rama of the axe. The selfless worker for righteousness' sake, thus
repaid his debt to Duryodhana, and lay wounded to death sanctifying with his
life-blood the battlefield. As the grandsire fell, the hearts of the Kauravas
also fell along with him. Bhishma's body did not touch the ground, on account
of the arrows sticking out all over his body. His body shone more brightly than
ever before, as it lay as on a bed of honor, supported by the shafts that had
pierced his flesh. Both armies ceased fighting and all the warriors came
running and crowded round the great hero, who lay on his bed of arrows. The
kings of the earth stood with bowed heads round him, as the gods round Brahma.
"My head hangs down unsupported," said the grandsire. The princes,
who stood near, ran and brought cushions. The old warrior rejected them with a
smile and, turning towards Arjuna said: "Dear son Partha, give me a
cushion befitting a warrior." When Arjuna, whose arrows were just then
burning the grandsire's flesh, heard those words addressed to him, he took
three arrows from out of his quiver and so placed them that the grandsire's
head found support on their points. "Princes," said Bhishma addressing
the assembled chiefs, "Arjuna's arrows were indeed what my head required
to be supported on. This pillow gives me satisfaction. Now, I must lie thus
until the sun turns north. My soul will not depart till then. When I pass away,
those of you who may be alive then may come and see me." Then the
grandsire turned again to Arjuna and said: "I am tormented with thirst.
Get me some drinking water." At once, Arjuna raised his bow, and drawing,
it to the ear, shot a shaft down into the earth near the grandsire on his right
side. Upon the opening made by the arrow, there gushed a stream of pure sweet
water to the very lips of the dying man. Ganga
came up, says the poet, to quench her dear son's burning thirst. Bhishma drank
and was happy. "Duryodhana, may you be wise!" said Bhishma,
addressing the Kaurava prince. "Did you see how Arjuna brought me water to
quench my thirst? Who else in this world can do such a deed? Make peace with
him without further delay. May the war cease with my exit. Listen to me, son,
make peace with the Pandavas." The grandsire's words did not please
Duryodhana. Even when dying, the patient does not like medicine. He objects to
the bitter taste. All the princes retired to their camps.
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