The united might of assembled kings, resolved upon the destruction of Abhimanyu, advanced with their fourfold armies like the ceaseless and successive waves of the ocean. Their war-cries thundered through the firmament, proclaiming with cruel certainty that this would be the final day of the youthful warrior upon earth. Bows were drawn to their fullest curve, swords flashed like streaks of lightning, and spears hurtled forth with deadly intent; every weapon known to the science of war converged upon him. Meanwhile, Sanjaya, with composed wonder, narrated these events to the anxious and trembling king Dhritarashtra, who, in fearful agitation, sought to know which among his sons had fallen prey to the tender, milk-cheeked son of Arjuna.
Then that young hero burst forth amidst the host like a fierce tiger springing upon a herd of timid deer, rending and scattering them in terrible might. In but a moment, soldiers lay torn asunder, their forms shattered beyond recognition, so that the distinction between head and trunk was lost, and all appeared as a formless mass of flesh. Elephants, with severed limbs, lay piled like crimson-tinted hills of stone, and the battlefield, strewn with blood, bones, and broken bodies, resembled a ghastly theatre where spirits and demons might delight in their dreadful dance. Yet even as terror reigned, the scattered forces gathered once more with renewed desperation, each warrior vying with the other, crying aloud his resolve to strike first, and a deep, vibrating fury spread through the ranks against the solitary youth.
At that moment, Rukmadhara, the son of Shalya, advanced proudly with his forces, declaring in a voice filled with arrogance that Abhimanyu, however skilled, must inevitably fall by his hand. With swift precision he discharged nine arrows into the youth’s chest and others upon his shoulders, pressing forward for further assault. But Abhimanyu, with astonishing swiftness, severed both his arms—one with a shaft, the other with a spear-headed arrow—so that the prince felt lifeless to the earth. Enraged at the fall of their comrade, his allies surrounded Abhimanyu with a dense mass of chariots, princes, and warriors, pouring upon him a storm of weapons, their bodies trembling with wrath and vengeance. Duryodhana, beholding this, felt assured that the son of Arjuna could not survive the crushing force of such a multitude and inwardly declared him already slain.
Yet Abhimanyu, like a noble elephant scattering its assailants, resolved to shatter the pride of those princes and humble the arrogance of their lord. Then did he employ the divine Gandharva art, imparted unto him by Arjuna, who had received it from the sage Tumburu. By its mysterious power, each opposing warrior found himself enveloped and bewildered by a rain of shafts, stunned into helplessness. Circling the battlefield with unmatched skill, Abhimanyu pierced his enemies on every side, breaking their formations; some feel senseless, others wounded, and many trembled like tender leaves shaken by a violent wind. This sudden and wondrous display struck Duryodhana with astonishment, and though he himself advanced to engage the youth, he was soon forced to withdraw, unable to withstand the relentless shower of arrows.
Then Dhritarashtra, overcome with amazement, spoke in disbelief to Sanjaya, marvelling that one so young could lay low vast armies and seasoned warriors. Sanjaya replied with calm conviction, declaring that righteousness ever triumphs over unrighteousness, and began to unfold the deeper currents of the battle. He described how the armies of many kings, wearied and shaken, faltered in spirit, while Duryodhana, accompanied by Ashvatthama, Kripa, Kritavarma, and Brihadbala, rallied to confront the invincible youth. Abhimanyu roared like a lion and fell upon them with renewed ferocity, so that they felt as though thunderbolts rained upon them in unending succession.
Amidst this tumult, Lakshmana Kumara, the son of Duryodhana, rashly entered the fray against Abhimanyu. Seeing this, Duryodhana was struck with dread, sensing the peril that had seized his son, yet he urged his allies to press the attack without restraint. Abhimanyu, perceiving his foe within reach, struck him with swift and piercing shafts, and with words that echoed across the field, declared the prince’s doom. In a moment that sent waves of shock through the assembled hosts, he severed Lakshmana’s head, and it fell upon the blood-soaked earth.
Enraged beyond measure, Duryodhana cried aloud for all to slay the “cruel boy,” and at his command, the foremost warriors—Drona, Karna, Ashvatthama, Kripa, Kritavarma, and Brihadbala—surrounded Abhimanyu and discharged their deadly volleys. Yet the son of Arjuna rendered their efforts futile, confounding them all, and drove his chariot onward toward Jayadratha, who held back the advancing Pandavas. On his path, the fierce Kalinga warriors, with their mighty elephants, rushed upon him; but he subdued them with disciplined valor, as a tiger overcomes a herd of charging bulls.
Continuing his relentless assault, Abhimanyu struck Drona with fifty arrows, Kritavarma with eighty, Ashvatthama with ten, and Karna with a single but potent shaft, thus paralyzing the foremost champions of the Kauravas. He then pierced Brihadbala with numerous arrows and slew other proud kings who stood before him. Though Kripa and allied rulers renewed their attack with great composure, Abhimanyu countered them with fearless joy, reducing their strength and resolve. Brihadbala of Kosala, in a desperate act, destroyed Abhimanyu’s chariot, slaying his horses and charioteer; yet the youth leapt to the ground and, seizing a mighty spear, struck the king through the ribs, slaying him instantly.
Thereafter, the kinsmen and forces of the fallen monarch surged upon Abhimanyu in wild fury, and Karna himself engaged him in fierce combat. Both warriors, bleeding from many wounds, shone crimson like the sun and its reflection upon rippling waters. Though attacked by multiple commanders at once, Abhimanyu restrained them all and countered even Drona with astonishing prowess, filling the hearts of all beholders with wonder. Thus continued Sanjaya’s vivid narration to Dhritarashtra, revealing the terrible grandeur of that day when a single youthful hero stood like a blazing fire amidst a storm of destruction, unconquered in spirit and unmatched in valor.
