11.023
Pancharatra and Core: Gandhari mourns the death of Śalya, Bhagadatta, Bhishma, and Droṇa.
Gandhari said:
O father, this is Śalya, Nakula's maternal uncle, lying slain here in battle, killed by the virtuous Dharmarāja, the knower of dharma.
O best of men, the one who always rivaled you everywhere, the king of Madra, that great chariot-warrior, now lies slain.
O dear one, by whom the chariot of the son of a charioteer was restrained in battle, and for the victory of the sons of Pandu, the destruction of energy was also accomplished.
Ah! Look at Śalya's face, beautiful as the full moon, with eyes like lotus leaves, bitten by vaṭa fruits, yet without a wound.
This tongue, which has the radiance of heated gold and resembles gold, having emerged from the mouth, is being eaten by black birds.
Shalya, who shone in battle, was slain by Yudhishthira. The women of the Madra royal family, weeping, gathered around him.
These women, adorned in very fine garments, having approached the king of Madra, the foremost among men, cry out to the foremost among Kṣatriyas.
Shalya had fallen, and women stood all around him, crying out, like wives around a bull completely sunk in the mud.
Behold Śalya, the heroic giver of refuge and foremost among charioteers, lying on the hero's bed, his body pierced all over with arrows.
Here lies Bhagadatta, the mighty king who dwelled among the mountains and was famed for his skill with the elephant-goad, now fallen to the earth.
The golden garland on his head shines, as if adorning the hair of the one being devoured by beasts.
By this, indeed, Arjuna’s battle was very terrible and hair-raising, extremely fierce, like that of mighty Indra.
After making this mighty-armed one fight Arjuna (Dhanañjaya), and dispelling doubt, he was slain by the son of Kuntī.
He, Bhishma, the doer of terrible deeds, who had no equal in the world in heroism or strength, now lies slain in battle.
O Kṛṣṇa, behold the son of Śantanu, radiant as the sun, lying fallen by the force of time, like the sun dropped from the sky at the end of an age.
O Keśava, this powerful hero, having scorched his enemies in battle by the heat of weapons, now approaches his end like the sun setting, O Keśava.
Behold the hero who has gone to the bed of arrows, lying in righteousness together with Devāpi, resting on the hero's bed, attended by valiant men.
Skanda, the revered one, lies on an excellent bed made of arrowheads, reed-arrows, and iron-shafted arrows, just as he once lay on the bed of reeds.
The son of Ganga, filled with immeasurable arrows, was provided with an excellent cushion made of three arrows by the wielder of the Gandiva bow.
Here lies the son of Śantanu, who protected his father's command, whose vital energy was upward, and who was of great fame, equal to Mādhava, on the battlefield.
O dear one, whose nature is dharma and who knows dharma by tradition in decision, though mortal, he sustained his life like an immortal.
In this battle, there is no one accomplished, wise, or valiant, where Bhīṣma, the son of Śāntanu, lies today slain by others.
Death was declared in battle by the knower of dharma, the truth-speaker, when asked by the brave Pāṇḍavas themselves.
He who had once restored the destroyed Kuru dynasty, that great-intellect has now gone to ruin together with the Kurus.
O Mādhava, now that Devavrata (Bhīṣma), the bull among men and like a god, has gone to heaven, whom will the Kauravas consult regarding their duties?
See Droṇa, the foremost among the teachers of the Kurus, fallen; he was the teacher of Arjuna, the charioteer, and also of Satyaki.
O Mādhava, just as Indra or the mighty Paraśurāma, so also Droṇa knows the four kinds of weapons.
By whose grace Arjuna, the Pāṇḍava, accomplished the difficult task; now he lies slain, unprotected by his weapons.
He whom the Kurus once called upon to lead against the Pāṇḍavas—this Droṇa, the best among weapon-bearers, has now been set apart by weapons.
He, whose advance burned up the army like fire, now lies slain on the ground like a fire with its flames extinguished.
O Mādhava, the bow, the fist still tight, and the grasp in the hand of the slain Droṇa appear as if he were still alive.
O Keśava, just as in the beginning all the Vedas and all weapons did not depart from Prajāpati, so too they have not departed from the hero.
These two feet, once worthy of reverence, praised by his bards and honored by hundreds of disciples, are now auspicious only for jackals who drag them.
O Madhusūdana, Droṇa has been slain by the son of Drupada; Kṛpī, his wife, grieves miserably, her mind overwhelmed by sorrow.
Behold her—she weeps, stricken, her hair unbound, her face cast down, as she approaches her slain husband, Droṇa, the foremost among warriors.
O Keśava, the matted-haired celibate woman is attending upon Droṇa in the battle, whose body armor has been pierced by Dhṛṣṭadyumna's arrows.
Kṛpī, the illustrious and delicate lady, distressed with grief, strives in the funeral rites of her husband who was slain in battle.
Having brought the fires and kindled the funeral pyre according to the prescribed rites, placing the wooden vessel, the singers of Sāman chant the three Sāman hymns.
O Mādhava, these matted-haired celibates scatter the funeral pyre with bows, spears, and chariot-frames.
They, of great brilliance, will be burnt by various weapons and others. Having placed Drona, these proclaim and also weep.
Some, with three internal Sāma hymns, praise (the offering); others, having placed fire in the fire, offer the vessel in the consuming fire.
Then Droṇa's disciples, the twice-born, facing the Gaṅgā, proceeded; having constructed the funeral pyre to the left, they placed Kṛpī (Droṇa's wife) in front.
