The Siddhas, Vidyadharas, and celestial hosts stood watching with wonder, eager to witness the outcome of the battle between the scion of virtue, the devoted disciple, and the sage of exalted achievements, a guru who had never known defeat. I, the son of Jamadagni, approached my revered master in my chariot, descended, and bowed with humility, saying that it was unseemly to fight from a chariot when he stood on foot. At once he ascended a divine chariot furnished with celestial steeds, shield, armor, and bow, with Akruthavarna as his charioteer. I mounted my chariot, blew my conch, saluted him with arrows, and he showered arrows upon me. Before his shafts could reach my chariot, I struck them down in midair, astonishing the onlookers.
The famed archer Bhargava released sixty arrows aimed at my body, my horses, and my charioteer. I smiled and subdued them all. With a single arrow that thundered across sky and earth, I struck down his bow. Parasurama took up another bow, sank into the fire of anger, and hurled a hundred arrows at my chariot. The celestials applauded his prowess. He cared for nothing and pierced my body with many arrows, and I returned the same measure. My shafts pierced his form, blood flowing over him, and he shone like tender mango leaves at dawn, when the rays fall gently upon them. He fainted from loss of blood. My kshatriya pride surged, yet my conscience reproached me, asking what I had done to a great warrior sage, and I stood waiting and watching.
After some time, he regained consciousness, gathered his energies, and unleashed volleys of arrows upon me. He deployed an unimaginable host of shastras and astras at once. I incapacitated all his astras and released the Maruthastra, which Bhargava neutralized with the Guhyakastra. Then I deployed the Agneyastra, which Parasurama resisted with the Varunastra. Thus continued the unending play of divine weapons, each launched and subdued, while the celestial hosts applauded. Then the guru shot a fierce arrow into my chest. I did not know its nature, but it pierced me deeply, and I tumbled upon the chariot. The charioteer turned the chariot away, and I rebuked him for cowardice, returned to the field, and rained arrows upon my guru. Amba trembled in fear. We fought the whole day and halted at dusk. Thus passed twenty-two days, and again I prepared for battle the next morning.
I harassed my guru’s steeds with volleys of arrows and grievously wounded his body. Parasurama deployed the divine weapon Shakti against me, which I sliced in midair. He hurled ten such weapons in succession, and I severed them all before they could reach me. My hands grew supremely skilful, my energies surged, and the sage Parasurama was astonished. I struck him, and he fell unconscious. The sages gathered around him, sighing heavily in grief and anxiety. Bhargava regained his strength, showered me with arrows, struck me until I lost consciousness, and severed the head of my charioteer, and I fell.
While I lay unconscious, eight Brahmins of my own age lifted me, restored my consciousness, placed me upon a chariot, and carried me through the sky. Ganga sat upon the charioteer’s seat. I saluted her, and she blessed me and departed. I myself guided the chariot and fought the battle as though in play. All day I fought and at dusk returned to my camp. That night I sat upon kusa grass and prayed to scholars and Brahmins. It became impossible to conquer Bhargava, and many days passed. Victory over him brought not joy but sorrow to me, yet after victory I sought consolation, allowed no further delay, and slept.
In the early hours, while I slept, the eight Brahmins who had lifted me appeared. They said, “Bheeshma, do not be afraid. We are now one with you. This is the astra that can conquer Parasurama.” They blessed me with the Mohanastra and departed. I rose, remembered the deployment, guidance, and withdrawal of the astra taught by the eight Brahmins, completed my daily rituals, arranged a charioteer, and went forth to battle. Parasurama said, “Yesterday you were half-dead; today I shall slay the other half,” and leaping forward, he released many arrows. I restrained myself and played on the defense, while the guru grew ruthless, unleashing arrows and threatening me. I too grew angry and with swiftness released many arrows, planting the Shakti weapon upon his chest. He was about to fall, but Akruthavarna saved him, restored him, and revived his consciousness.
Then Parasurama, tears of fire falling from his eyes and a blazing smile upon his face, unleashed the Brahmastra upon me, and I released the same. Both Brahmastras clashed in midair, striking thunderbolts across the globe and terrifying all realms. All living beings were shaken. Finding the moment ripe, I was about to unleash the Mohanastra, when the sage Narada cried, “Do not release it, stop, stop,” and came to me. He said, “O best of the Kuru dynasty, you are poised to humiliate your guru with a ruthless mind. I have not seen such conduct anywhere. This is unworthy of your status. Look at the gods in the sky; they have come to deliver good counsel to you.” He showed me the eight sages who had lifted me, cared for me, placed me upon the chariot, and given me the Mohanastra. Those scholars spoke as though ignorant of the matter and said that Narada is venerable to the three worlds, and his words stand above even the Vedic command. They said, “Cruelty is forbidden in the case of a guru.” On the advice of the eight transcendental sages, I withdrew my intent to unleash the Mohanastra, while the Brahmastra still shone in the air.
Then the son of Jamadagni learned of Narada and the eight sages who had restrained me from deploying the Mohanastra. Thinking himself defeated, he grew enmity toward me. His father Jamadagni and other sages approached Bhargava with gentle words and calmed him, saying, “Bhargava, listen to us. Bheeshma is a Vasu, more chivalrous than any. We cannot conquer him in battle. A Brahmin should not sustain anger, vengeance, or jealousy. Cease this battle. The incarnation of Narayana, named Arjuna, will one day slay him. None others can conquer him.” Though his father and elders urged him thus, he struggled within himself, and they came to me, informing me of what they had spoken to Parasurama. They came with Ganga, caressed and implored me to withdraw, and with great effort they persuaded us both. The eight scholars again came and said, “Bheeshma, Parasurama is your guru. He is a philosopher and of boundless valor. Go to that great sage, salute him, and seek refuge in him.”
The eight scholars, Ganga, Narada, Jamadagni, and the ancestors, went to Parasurama and said, “He learned from you. Bheeshma is your disciple. Do not be angry with him. He confronted you only to avoid yielding to injustice, not out of enmity. Bless him with kindness.” They called me, and I prostrated before him. He blessed and embraced me, saying, “Son of Ganga, I am pleased with your devotion,” and looked upon me with grace. Turning to Amba, he said, “Bheeshma has conquered me. I can do nothing beyond this. Choose your own path.” She replied, “Deva, you have done your best. What can you do beyond your measure? I shall destroy Bheeshma by the power of penance and wreak vengeance in my next life.” She departed. Narada, the sages, and the ancestors blessed me and vanished. Bhargava Rama departed with his retinue to Mahendragiri. The Brahmins and hermits on my way to Hastina applauded me. I reached Hastina and presented myself before mother Satyavati, whose joy knew no bounds.
Yet I continually gathered reports from spies about Amba, which troubled me deeply. Though anxious about her, I defeated enemy kings and bound them to the throne of Hastina. Fierce battles, inconclusive efforts, unusual turns, persistent striving, and steadfast adherence to my vow enriched every moment of this tale, which I later recounted in full to Duryodhana. King Dhritarashtra listened with keen curiosity through Sanjaya, seeking only to pluck from it threads to weave a defense for his wicked son.
