05.050
Dhritarashtra spoke:
All these warriors, praised by you for their great enthusiasm, are on one side, while Bhima stands alone on the other.
O father, my great fear arises again from Bhīmasena, like from the great roar of an angry, intolerant tiger.
I stay awake all night, breathing heavily and warmly, in fear of Vrikodara, like a weak animal afraid of a lion, O father.
I do not see anyone in this army who can match the mighty-armed warrior, whose splendor is equal to that of Indra, in battle.
The Pandava, son of Kunti, was impatient and harbored firm enmity. He was not laughing, appeared mad, looked askance, and made a loud sound.
He, with great speed, enthusiasm, mighty arms, and strength, will bring an end to the battle for my slow sons.
Vrikodara, wielding his mace with great strength, stood like Yama, the god of death, with a staff in hand, as the formidable warrior of the Kurus in battle.
In my mind, I envision a formidable mace crafted from iron and embellished with gold, resembling the raised staff of Brahma.
Just as a lion moves fearlessly among herds of deer, Bhima will move among my forces with strength and confidence.
Among all my sons, he stands out as a fierce warrior, known for his voracious appetite and hostility, and even as a child, he was always impetuous.
My heart trembles at the thought of Duryodhana and others who, even in their childhood, were crushed as if fighting against an elephant.
Due to his strength, my daughter is perpetually troubled. He is the very reason for the discord, Bhima, who possesses formidable might.
I see Bhima in front, as if devouring the troops of men, elephants, and horses, overwhelmed with anger in battle.
In terms of weaponry, he is comparable to Droṇa and Arjuna, and in speed, he matches the wind. O Sañjaya, please tell me about the heroic and impatient Bhīmasena.
I believe it is an excessive gain that by the enemy-slayer, then indeed not all my sons were killed by the wise one.
The one who struck down the mighty Yakshas and Rakshasas, how can a mere human withstand his speed in battle?
O Sanjaya, even as a child, he was never under my control. How then can the Pandava, now troubled by my wicked sons, be expected to be?
He is harsh and would not bow down even if broken due to his harshness. With side-glancing eyes and knitted brows, how could Vrikodara be pacified?
Bhimasena, of immense strength and unmatched power, stands tall and fair like a palm tree, and is taller than Arjuna by measure.
The swift horse surpasses others with its speed, and with strength, it surpasses elephants. The middle Pāṇḍava, who speaks indistinctly and has sweet eyes, is strong.
In my childhood, I had heard from Vyasa about the Pandava, who was truly remarkable in both form and valor.
With his iron club, the furious Bhima, the best among warriors, will destroy chariots, elephants, horses, and men in the battle.
My father, who was impatient, always enraged, fierce, and cruel in his prowess, was previously insulted while performing hostile acts.
How will my sons be able to wield the heavy, well-crafted golden mace made of solid iron, known for its deadly impact and resonating sound?
O father, the foolish ones desire to cross the boundless, boatless, unfathomable ocean, swift as an arrow, which is like a fort made of Bhimasena.
My cries go unheard by the children who think themselves wise; they fail to perceive the danger of the precipice, being distracted by the sight of honey.
The battle that they will engage in, with Vayu in human form, is certainly urged by the creator, like great beasts are by the lion.
Father, how will my sons be able to withstand the immensely powerful, four-cornered, six-edged weapon made of iron that brings sorrow?
He whirled his mace, breaking the heads of elephants, while licking his cheeks and repeatedly shedding tears.
Aiming at the falls, the elephants, intoxicated and roaring back, make terrifying sounds as they oppose and fall.
Having entered the paths of the chariots and aiming at the best, striking like the blazing fire, even my people would be released.
The mighty-armed warrior, clearing a path through my forces as if in a dance with his mace, will reveal the end of an era.
My Vrikodara (Bhima), like a rampaging elephant breaking through flowering trees, will charge into the army of my sons in the battle.
The tiger among men made the chariots devoid of men and flags, broke their axles, and destroyed the charioteers and horsemen.
Sanjaya, like the swift flow of the Ganga, my sons will enter the diverse trees that grow along the riverbanks of Mahasena.
O Sanjaya, certainly my sons, servants, and kings, afflicted by Bhimasena's strength, will come under control.
The king of great valor, who once entered the inner chambers with the help of Vasudeva, defeated Jarāsandha.
The wise and powerful king of Magadha, Jarasandha, brought the entire earth under his control and oppressed it.
Because of Bhishma's prowess, neither the Kurus through policy nor the Andhakas and Vrishnis came under his control; it was only fate or destiny.
He went and was killed by the strong-armed son of Pandu, who was a hero even without weapons. What more is there to say?
O Sanjaya, just as a venomous snake that has been soaked for a long time releases its poison, so will he release his brilliance in battle among my sons.
O best of the gods, just as Indra destroys demons with his thunderbolt, Bhimasena will annihilate my sons with his mace.
I see Vrikodara (Bhima) coming towards us with an unstoppable and intense force, his eyes appearing very red.
Who would dare to stand in front of a man fighting with his bare arms, even if he is unarmed, without a bow, chariot, or armor?
Bhishma, Drona, and Kripa, the son of Sharadvata, are wise men who know the valor of that wise one, just as I do.
The noble warriors, aware of their vows and unafraid of battles, will stand at the forefront of my army, like bulls among men.
Fate is stronger from all directions, especially for a man. Even when I see their victory, I cannot control their sons.
The ancient great archers, positioned on the path of Indra, will sacrifice their lives amidst the tumult to protect the earthly glory.
Just as these are my own, so too are the Pandavas, who are grandsons of Bhishma and disciples of Drona and Kripa.
O Sanjaya, whatever is dependent on us, whether given or desired, the honor of that is upheld by the three noble elders.
It is said that for a warrior who takes up arms to fulfill his duty, the death of a Brahmin in battle is considered the most noble and excellent.
He indeed laments for all those who wish to fight the Pāṇḍavas. This fear, initially shouted by Vidura, has now come to pass.
However, O Sañjaya, I believe that knowledge does not necessarily lead to the eradication of sorrow. In fact, O mighty one, this knowledge can also be detrimental.
Even liberated sages, when they see the welfare of the world, become happy in happiness and sorrowful in sorrow.
What then, of me who is attached in thousands of ways to sons, kingdom, wives, grandsons, and relatives?
In this great doubt, what indeed is the best course of action for me? Reflecting, I certainly see the destruction of the Kurus.
Gambling is seen as the greatest vice among the Kurus. This sin was committed by the foolish due to their greed and desire for wealth.
I believe that the nature of time is ever-changing and transient. Just as an axle is fixed to a wheel, it is impossible to escape from it.
What should I do, Sanjaya? Where should I go? These foolish Kurus are perishing, succumbing to the inevitable passage of time.
O father, once I was helpless when a hundred of my sons were slain. How can death touch me when I hear the cries of women?
Just as a kindled fire in summer, driven by the wind, consumes the forest, so too does the Pāṇḍava with his mace, alongside Arjuna, destroy my people.
