The Aryavarta Chronicles Book 03: Kurukshetra

by Krishna Udayasankar

  ‘He’s right,’ Dhrstyadymn said. ‘Our lookouts and scouts report that Dron has drawn Partha right to the other end of the battlefield. The entire Samsaptaka clan of warriors stands between them and us. This would explain why. Even if you tried to take a message through, Yuyudhana, I doubt…’

  ‘That leaves us where we started,’ Dharma said.

  Abhimanyu hesitated, then said, ‘Not exactly.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  In response, the young man stepped up to the huge table and took up a piece of parchment. ‘The idea of the wheel,’ he began drawing on the parchment as he spoke, ‘is to force the enemy between two fronts, and crush them in between. As you all must have seen, the arrangement begins with one battalion or division in the middle. This is the metaphorical hub of the wheel. Around it, you have spokes – more battalions, each with their backs to the hub and facing outwards in different directions. At the edges are the rims. These divisions are spread out wide, unlike the spokes, which are concentrated lengthwise.’

  Bhim scowled. ‘That is a complex formation, no doubt. It must be tough to move it – what if we do nothing? What if we don’t attack and simply wait for the enemy to break out of the Wheel?’

  ‘No,’ Abhimanyu said. ‘The wheel is an attack formation. What happens is that each division, each man, moves diagonally, making the wheel rotate as a whole and come forward at the same time. See…’ He drew some more lines on the parchment as he continued to explain. ‘Assume we wait for them to come to us. The first division of their wheel would hit our front at an angle, like a wedge. We would be forced to move in an arc. By then their second division – the neighbouring bit of their rim – would hit our arc from the other side. We’d be crushed between the two segments of their rim.’

  ‘What if we attack? We can break through between segments or divisions…’ Dharma said.

  ‘Which is precisely what the enemy hopes we might be tempted to do. It becomes easier for them to catch us in between. You see, Uncle Bhim, we tend to think of these battalions as usual, stationary groups that move only on command. But in the wheel formation, nothing is stationary; the divisions are constantly moving. Imagine twenty thousand elephants bearing down from your left, while you’re already fighting with a front on your right…’

  Every face turned grim, as it became clear what Abhimanyu was talking about. He continued, ‘Uncle Govinda said that it’s unimaginably difficult to get this formation right. It takes, as Dhrstyadymn rightly said, a military genius, an excellent commander. But, if it’s well done, then…’ he shrugged.

  ‘Then, there’s no way…?’ Dharma asked, in a small voice.

  ‘There is…’ Abhimanyu said. ‘But I know just a part of it…’

  ‘How?’ Bhim asked, excitement creeping into his voice.

  ‘Well, if you go in between the rims…that is, any two divisions of the wheel, quickly enough… Instead of engaging with the first two fronts here,’ he pointed to the sketch he had drawn out, ‘if you kept going, breaking through the gap, you wouldn’t be stopped till you reached the hub or the central division of the formation. Once the centre is destroyed, you can start breaking the wheel from the inside out, but… I’m sorry; I don’t know how that’s done.’

  Dharma pursed his lips and studied the diagram before him. ‘But you know how to get in? How to break into the wheel?’

  ‘Yes…’

  ‘Fine. You lead us in then. We’ll be right behind you.’

  ‘No, Dharma! This is too dangerous…’ Shikandin protested.

  ‘Nonsense. We’ll be right behind Abhimanyu. Once we are all in, the formation is as good as broken. We can take it from there.’

  Dhrstyadymn began, ‘Dharma, I don’t think…’

  ‘By Hara, what’s gotten into you all?’ Dharma shouted, silencing the murmurs. He glanced around, meeting each one’s gaze, daring them to object. However, he could not bring himself to look at the visibly horrified Panchali.

  ‘I’ll ask you once again, Abhimanyu. You do know how to break into the wheel formation, right?’

  ‘Yes, I do. The trick is to hold off the enemy to both sides instead of waiting for attack from the front. It’ll take a lot arrows, but well-supplied as we are by Matsya’s forges that is hardly a constraint for us.’

  ‘All right,’ Shikandin said, ‘I shall lead the attack then. Get our armies into position. Abhimanyu can tell me once again how it’s done, and I’ll break into the Wheel.’

  ‘And since when does a Prince of the Kurus need an irreverent woodsman to lead him?’ Dharma snapped. ‘Abhimanyu is Partha’s blood. He’s my son and heir to my throne. He doesn’t need you to show him how to fight!’

  ‘This isn’t the time for whatever grudges you may bear against me, Dharma. What you’re asking Abhimanyu to do: it isn’t brave, it’s foolish. He will some day be a great warrior, a better fighter than all of us put together. But to be that warrior, he must live and learn!’

  Dharma ignored Shikandin and turned instead to Abhimanyu. ‘Are you afraid? Be honest! Or do you believe the rumours that the Firewrights can control the eclipse and use it to infuse power into their astras? You call yourself Abhimanyu Karshni, of the line of Krishna the Dark-skinned, Govinda Shauri’s son. Don’t tell me you believe in such irrational tales…?’

  Panchali stood up meaning to speak, but Dharma held up a hand. A strange air came over Abhimanyu as he looked from one to the other. He declared, resolute, ‘No, Your Highness, I don’t believe in such tales. I am not afraid!’

  ‘Then it is settled. Lead us.’

  The commanders stormed out, ready for battle. Dharma gave a sign, and heralds trilled orders out to the waiting armies, to make ready to march.

  Abhimanyu went up to Subadra and Panchali. ‘Wish me well. I shall see you both in the evening, then.’ He began walking towards his battle rig.

  Subadra took a few dazed steps forward and stood staring at Abhimanyu as he issued instructions to his captains. ‘Rudra, please don’t let him be hurt,’ she prayed out loud.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Dhaumya’s voice, dull and lifeless, sounded behind her. See, Shikandin is with him.’

  Despite Dharma’s insults, Shikandin had no intentions of letting Abhimanyu break into the wheel on his own. The two men now had their vehicles alongside, and Shikandin was, to Abhimanyu’s amusement, issuing firm instructions to both their horsemen.

  And then, with a cheerful wave at those who remained behind, Abhimanyu was gone.

  ‘Don’t tell me Dharma has sent a boy to break this formation!’ Vasusena said to Dron, as they watched Abhimanyu and his men move, determined, towards the rim of the wheel. He added, ‘He can’t, can he?’

  ‘No, not unless…’ Dron hesitated, but then said, vehement, ‘No, he can’t. But he is a grown man, and it wouldn’t do to underestimate him either. Far too many have paid with their lives for that mistake in these past days.’

  ‘I don’t like this. Shikandin is with him…’ Dussasan observed.

  ‘We’d better inform Syoddhan. Where is he?’

  ‘With the rearguard. He wanted to make sure that Partha and Govinda don’t head back here at any cost. He’ll be here any time.’

  ‘And till then?’

  ‘He left me in charge,’ Dussasan gleefully informed Dron.

  ‘Very well. Get Asvattama and Jayadrath ready with the flanks. Tell them to strike at the middle of Dharma’s formation. That way, we can split them into two groups and trap them.’

  Dussasan grinned again at the prospect of the ensuing carnage and left to do Dron’s bidding.

  18

  ABHIMANYU NOTICED THE TWO INTERIOR FLANKS OR SPOKES OF the wheel move in. Twitching with anticipation, he instructed his charioteer, ‘Keep moving ahead, no matter what. I’ll take care of the rest, just keep moving forward.’ He threw back a quick glance and saw Shikandin order his horseman to keep up. Dharma and the others trailed further behind.

  By Hara, today they’ll all be proud of m
e, Abhimanyu promised himself. He thought of Uttara, of the gleam in her eyes as she gave him a warrior’s welcome. Filled with joyful energy at the prospect, Abhimanyu raised his bow and attacked. He shot alternately to his left and right with unbelievable speed. Both enemy flanks rippled with confusion and fear. It seemed the formation would be strained, possibly broken under his unrelenting onslaught. But Asvattama and Jayadrath rallied their men, and the flanks continued to squeeze in.

  Abhimanyu engaged once again. He was now past the near edges of the enemy flanks, and fast approaching the central sections. As the sounds of a skirmish began to ring out behind him, he glanced back. The flanks on the rim had fallen on the last of Dharma’s men. Bhim and Dhrstyadymn were issuing frantic orders to hold the rear, and Dharma was already falling back. Shikandin, however, did not bother to look anywhere but ahead.

  ‘Puuya!’ Jayadrath swore out loud as Shikandin’s intentions became clear to all on the field. After a hushed conference with his lieutenants, the Sindhu King began to move his men diagonally, clustering his forces behind Abhimanyu’s advancing position rather than directly to the side.

  Shikandin saw the offensive and called out to Abhimanyu to hold back, but the young warrior was now a man possessed. The thrill of battle was on him; the sense of power at taking human life with impunity had made him unstoppable.

  Spitting out a curse, Shikandin ordered the men with him to broaden their defensive formation while he moved up alongside Abhimanyu. Jayadrath had anticipated the attempt. ‘Now!’ he shouted and led the charge. A whirlwind force of men and horses rushed at Shikandin from the side. Shikandin tried to hold off the advancing front with a steady stream of arrows, and ordered his charioteer to pick up speed in an attempt to avoid crashing into the enemy.

  But Jayadrath’s plan was more subtle than that. At the last moment, he swung aside, throwing his men into the gap between Shikandin and the others behind him. In the meantime, Asvattama, seeing what Jayadrath had in mind, concentrated his attack on Abhimanyu. As the gap between Abhimanyu and Shikandin increased, Jayadrath turned his men around, now forming a perfect circle around Shikandin. The Sindhu King himself stood squarely in Shikandin’s path.

  Oblivious to the fact that Shikandin was no longer with him, Abhimanyu burst ahead like wildfire. He cheered as he saw the central or hub division ahead of him, Acharya Dron seated on an elephant at the centre of the formation. In a fit of feverish excitement, Abhimanyu aimed at the Acharya.

  Dron swatted the single shaft aside with his sword, but was nevertheless impressed. He turned to Kripa and said, ‘Thank the gods this boy is one of a kind. If they had all been like him, this war would have been forfeit from the beginning. But,’ he added, ‘he is young and immature. The intoxication of battle is already upon him. He has allowed himself to be separated from the others: an act of stupidity rather than valour, but he is too young to know the difference.’ He looked up as Asvattama came riding towards them. A sign from his son told Dron that Dharma’s army had been thrown back and could not break through – Asvattama would not have left his position otherwise.

  Dussasan snarled and urged Dron, ‘Well, what are you waiting for? Let’s get him…Acharya.’

  Dron raised his bow and let fly a single, precise arrow. The shaft whizzed its way through the tumult to hit the wooden cross-pole on the underside of Abhimanyu’s vehicle. The pole broke, causing the car to collapse. Abhimanyu’s horses neighed with fear, as they were dragged to the ground by the change in momentum. His charioteer was flung into the air and landed on the ground with a hard thud, never to move again.

  For a short while, Abhimanyu was baffled. He stood ankle-deep in the debris of his vehicle, his horses writhing on the ground. Shikandin and the others of his army were nowhere to be seen. He was alone.

  A mocking cackle ran through the army around him. He let the rage of humiliation take over. Determined, Abhimanyu picked up his weapons and climbed out of the wreckage. He strode into the space between him and the huge division of men around him and placed his weapons on the ground, by his feet.

  ‘Well?’ Abhimanyu’s voice rang out over Syoddhan’s ranks. He smiled and said, taunting, ‘I’m still alive. Does anyone dare face me?’

  The challenge took the enemy by surprise, more for the courage it showed than the warrior’s overconfidence. Glances of incredulity were exchanged, which Abhimanyu mistook for hesitation, but before he could act on his appraisal, a warrior not much older than himself dismounted from his vehicle. ‘I, Lakshman, son of Syoddhan, accept your challenge,’ the man declared. ‘This is well met, cousin.’

  Without a word, Abhimanyu let loose an arrow. Lakshman lost no time in returning the assault. Syoddhan’s armies watched astonished as the two youngsters duelled. Lakshman was a well-trained warrior, indeed, one taught to value precision. Unlike Abhimanyu, he spent a few critical moments getting into a stance before releasing his arrow. Abhimanyu soon realized that those crucial moments were all that he needed. A heady rush filled him as he decided on a bold strategy. He fit an arrow to his bow in readiness, but did not let it loose. Lakshman continued to attack, while Abhimanyu moved around the field, baiting Lakshman and dodging his arrows, waiting for the right instant. Soon, Abhimanyu saw it – the predictable rhythm Lakshman had settled into; the even pace at which he moved, waited, attacked and then moved again.

  This time, Abhimanyu was ready. As soon as Lakshman let loose an arrow, Abhimanyu struck, letting fly a single, swift shaft. Before Lakshman could bring himself out of his rhythm to deal with this unexpected attack, steady himself and counter, Abhimanyu’s arrow hit him, severing head from neck.

  Bow still in hand, Lakshman’s decapitated frame fell slowly to the ground. In the silence that followed, the only sound that could be heard was Abhimanyu’s loud panting.

  Syoddhan’s cry cut through the air stunning them all, for no one had noticed his arrival. ‘Kill him!’ he shouted. ‘All of you…kill him!’

  Dron glared at Asvattama, who slid off his horse and approached Abhimanyu. Not hesitating for a moment, Abhimanyu let off a host of arrows in his adversary’s direction. Asvattama, however, was not Lakshman. He twisted and spun, dodging Abhimanyu’s arrows till, soon, Abhimanyu’s quiver was empty. Asvattama smiled, mocking the younger warrior.

  Returning the gesture in kind, Abhimanyu threw down his bow and drew his sword.

  ‘Big mistake,’ Asvattama muttered under his breath and came forward. This time, Abhimanyu was out of his element. He was good and had been taught well by Govinda, but his opponent was an exceptionally skilled swordsman. As Abhimanyu showed signs of tiring, Asvattama said, ‘Didn’t Govinda teach you the most important lesson, young man? Never, never, fight against Asvattama Bharadvaja with a sword.’

  ‘He may have told me,’ Abhimanyu grunted as he swung hard. ‘But his own caution didn’t stop him ever, did it?’

  ‘For that stout heart, young man, I’ll leave you with a lesson but nothing more,’ Asvattama said. His sword moved faster than the eye could see, and soon Abhimanyu’s blade lay on the ground. The young man himself had no injury from Asvattama’s swordplay, except for a large bruise on his wrist where Asvattama had hit him with the flat of his blade.

  ‘Next time, then,’ Asvattama said, walking back to where Dron and the other commanders were clustered.

  ‘What was that?’ Vasusena demanded.

  Asvattama did not reply, nor did he meet his father’s recriminating gaze.

  Vasusena turned to Dron. ‘Is there no way to stop this boy before he makes a laughing stock of us? Let’s get him, all at once.’

  ‘Good idea!’ Dussasan agreed.

  ‘No…’ Asvattama began, with a look at Syoddhan, who clearly found Vasusena’s proposal just as distasteful he did. But lost in his grief, Syoddhan waited too long to speak his mind and by the time he had gathered his thoughts, it was too late.

  Kripa was already preparing to lead the assault. He met Asvattama’s incredulous gaze with the explanation,
‘Don’t hesitate, Asvattama. If we don’t get rid of this boy, we can never call ourselves warriors again. Besides,’ he added, in a low voice, ‘what is to become of us if the world comes to know a half-trained youngster can break the most complex martial formation designed by the Firewrights? Forget this war, forget everything, think of the chaos and uprising we would have on our hands. The entire system relies on us to keep it stable; these kings rely on us to keep them safe. If we don’t kill Abhimanyu now, we lose the chance to prove our invincibility, and these same kings and soldiers who call us Acharya and bow to us will spit on our dead bodies. Don’t be a fool!’

  ‘You cannot…’

  ‘He’s right, Asvattama,’ Dron cut him short. He took a deep breath and then screamed out loud, ‘Charge! Charge! Bring me that boy’s head!’

  Cackling with eagerness, Dussasan charged, Kripa and Vasusena flanking him.

  Abhimanyu was taken aback by the unusual and unorthodox combined assault, but he soon regained his wits. A sword was of no use, he realized. He needed something that gave him more cover against multiple adversaries. Diving back into the debris of his chariot, he heaved with all his strength at a wheel that had partially come off from its axle. With a grunt of effort, he pulled. It gave just in time, as the first of Kripa’s arrows whizzed at him. Raising the wheel, Abhimanyu used it as a shield. Quickly he set it upright on the ground and rolled it forward, moving under its cover. He came back to where he’d dropped his sword and picked it up again. A wild, blood-curdling cry slipped from him, as he threw himself into the fight.

  He felt warm blood spray on his face and found pleasure in the knowledge that it was the enemy’s. Men attacked him from all directions but he moved without thinking, maddened by a force he had neither experienced before, nor understood now. Abhimanyu laughed without knowing why, howled with delirious joy, and sought out his opponents with a feral hunger. He saw himself in their fear-widened eyes as they fell dead: a red demon, a blood-drenched god that none could withstand. With every corpse that fell he felt sated and thirsty at once. He could not take another step without treading on still-warm flesh or spilled entrails, but it was not enough.