Sanjaya said, “O King Dhritarashtra, your son Duryodhana, hissing like an enraged serpent, seized his mighty mace and hurled it with irresistible force at the great Vrishni hero Chekitana, who fought on the side of the Pandavas. The weapon, as formidable as Indra’s Vajra, cleft the air with the speed of a tempest, flashed like a streak of lightning, and struck its mark with unfailing precision. Chekitana fell lifeless upon the battlefield. The Kaurava ranks erupted in loud acclaim, celebrating Duryodhana’s flawless aim and martial excellence. The fall of the valiant Chekitana, however, inflamed the hearts of the Pandavas, whose grief swiftly turned into fierce determination for vengeance.”
Elsewhere upon the vast field, the tide of battle surged relentlessly. King Salya confronted Dharmaraja Yudhishthira in a contest worthy of immortal remembrance. Duryodhana engaged Dhrishtadyumna with unyielding resolve, while Ashwatthama, supported by the Trigarta warriors, locked Arjuna in a terrible struggle. Across every quarter of the battlefield, countless warriors met their adversaries with astonishing courage and unwavering devotion to duty. Clouds of dust, raised by charging horses, elephants, and racing chariots, spread like a thick curtain, concealing friend and foe alike. Through that veil resounded the lion-like roars of heroes, the proud proclamations of Atirathas and Maharathas, and the thunderous clash of weapons. The air vibrated with a strange and awe-inspiring symphony that compelled every listener to pause and wonder at the terrible grandeur unfolding before them.
Yet the dust was soon subdued by streams of blood flowing across the earth. Everywhere echoed the dreadful sounds of battle—men striking, severing, piercing, cutting, and slaying without hesitation. Compassion vanished before the relentless demands of war, and the sacred field became a crimson ocean of sacrifice and death.
The mighty King Salya of Madra displayed extraordinary courage as he showered Dharmaraja with a relentless rain of arrows. Unshaken in spirit, Yudhishthira answered with fourteen keen shafts that pierced Salya’s body from every side. The Madra king retaliated instantly, driving a broad-headed arrow deep into Yudhishthira’s chest. Enraged by the assault, Dharmaraja slew Chandrasena, the protector of Salya’s chariot wheel, and struck Salya’s charioteer with nine swift arrows, throwing the enemy ranks into confusion.
At that very moment, Satyaki, Bhima, and the Chedi forces surrounded Salya from all directions. The indomitable king met them fearlessly. He pierced Bhima with five sharp arrows, checked his advance, and then struck Satyaki with twenty-seven shafts, depriving him of the advantage he had gained. Without mercy, Salya slew twenty-five Chedi warriors with razor-edged arrows. Nakula and Sahadeva rushed forward to support their brothers, but Salya restrained both with astonishing speed and precision. His bow seemed to rule the battlefield, and all who witnessed his feats marvelled at his unmatched mastery of warfare.
Dharmaraja, drawing deeply upon the strength of his mighty arms, released a furious torrent of arrows that shattered Salya’s lofty standard and tore apart his fluttering banner. Salya, unmoved by the loss, answered with ten arrows each against Yudhishthira, Bhima, Nakula, and Sahadeva, regaining the advantage through his astonishing skill. He then struck Yudhishthira with such force that the son of Dharma lost consciousness for a time. Celestial spectators looked on in admiration, praising the Madra king’s remarkable command over the science of arms.
Witnessing their elder brother’s peril, Nakula, Sahadeva, Bhima, and Satyaki were consumed with wrath. Together they overwhelmed Salya with a storm of arrows. Yet the veteran warrior calmly shattered their missiles in mid-flight and returned an even fiercer shower upon them. As though untouched by the fury surrounding him, Salya raised another standard and unfurled a fresh banner that gleamed brilliantly above his chariot, proclaiming his unconquerable spirit.
Bhima then drove seven powerful arrows deep into Salya’s body. Satyaki followed with a hundred shafts, while Nakula struck with five and Sahadeva with fourteen. Bleeding from many wounds, Salya nevertheless remained unshaken. He answered with seventy-three arrows against Bhima, twenty-five against Satyaki, five against Sahadeva, and three against Nakula, displaying astonishing composure amid overwhelming opposition.
With a well-aimed spear, Salya shattered Sahadeva’s bow. The young Pandava immediately seized another weapon and cried, “Uncle, where can you escape now?” With renewed spirit he released another torrent of arrows. Bhima, Satyaki, and Nakula joined him, their shafts falling upon Salya like an unceasing storm. Recovering from his momentary stupor, Dharmaraja also resumed the contest, directing sharp and deadly arrows toward the Madra king.
Blood streamed from Salya’s wounds until his entire body glowed crimson. He resembled a majestic mountain of red stone, over whose slopes flowed mineral-rich streams reflecting the brilliant rays of the sun. Even in that condition, his splendour remained undiminished, inspiring both admiration and fear among all who beheld him.
The heroic Salya then discharged five sacred arrows with unfailing precision, breaking Yudhishthira’s bow. Calmly taking up another bow, Dharmaraja declared, “With this bow shall our long enmity come to its destined end.” He slew Salya’s charioteer, struck down his steeds, and pierced the Madra king repeatedly with arrows that never missed their mark. Though tormented by the painful shafts, Salya’s pride remained unbroken. Gathering all his strength, he launched a devastating counterattack that once again rendered Dharmaraja unconscious.
Like a blazing fire driven by the wind, Satyaki rushed forward in fury and covered Salya with countless arrows. The indomitable king answered by hurling a spear that smashed Satyaki’s bow into splinters. Thus Salya, foremost among warriors, humbled Satyaki, Bhima, Nakula, Sahadeva, and even Dharmaraja through his immense strength, unfailing swiftness, consummate skill, and unshakable confidence. Though surrounded by the greatest heroes of the Pandava army, the King of Madra stood like an immovable mountain amidst a raging tempest, his prowess shining with undiminished brilliance upon the blood-soaked field of Kurukshetra.
