[Episode 54] [On writing the war episodes] [The complete archives]
We are faced with a vastly superior force, Dhristadyumna pointed out when we met before dawn on the second day to decide on strategy.
The accepted strategy in war is to concentrate on the main commanders, to kill or capture them at the earliest opportunity and thus render the opposing army leaderless.
That will not work for us here, Dhristadyumna said. The first day’s fighting had given him a good idea of Bhisma’s strategy. Each of the Kaurava generals had been protected by large segments of troops; the harder we tried to get to the leaders, the more losses we sustained against the numerically superior opposing forces.
Starting today, Dhristadyumna said, we had only one goal – to kill indiscriminately, to inflict maximum casualties on the opposing army. We would exert all our energies to stop the Kaurava generals when they looked like causing havoc in our ranks, but outside of that we would ignore the generals and focus our energies on decimating the opposition troops.
Arjuna decreed an eagle in flight as our battle formation for the day.
I would, from the position of the eagle’s beak, lead the formation. Yudhishtira and Virat would be positioned at the throat; Dhristadyumna would be stationed at the left wingtip with Abhimanyu and Sarvadhan, while Arjuna controlled from the right wingtip with Satyaki and Drupada in support. At the feet of the eagle, protecting our rear from surprise attacks, would be Nakula and Sahadeva with the sons of Draupadi, and Rukmi in support.
The Vidharbha king was an unexpected addition to our army. Years ago, Rukmi had planned to marry his sister off to the Chedi king Shishupala, but Rukmini was enamored of Krishna with whom, Arjuna had once told me, she had been carrying on a clandestine correspondence through messengers and pigeons.
When time came for the marriage, Krishna arrived in Vidharbha in the guise of a guest and carried Rukmini off in his chariot. Rukmi gave chase with a band of select troops, but was routed by Krishna and Balarama.
Rukmini’s earnest pleadings saved her brother’s life then, but before letting him go Krishna forced him to shave off half his hair — the ultimate insult for a warrior. He had since made friends with Krishna and, when war was declared, offered his services. “Use him in a defensive role,” Krishna had advised us. “As a warrior, he is not good enough to be in the front rank, but he and his men will help swell our numbers.”
As our army arrayed for battle, I had reason yet again to bless Arjuna for the long years he had spent wandering the country learning strategies and tactics from different lands. The formation he had suggested was the perfect answer to our requirement: it massed our troops in the eagle’s ‘body’, giving me enough backing as I sought to batter my way through the opposition while out on the two wingtips, our leading warriors were able to range free, causing mayhem where and how they could.
This was my kind of battle. Yesterday, I had spent a good part of time and energy trying to break through and get to Duryodhana. Today I didn’t bother with any specific target; at my direction, Visokan drove my chariot straight at the center of the Kaurava army, arrayed for the day in half moon formation. Fighting occasionally from my chariot, often on foot and, when faced with massed troops, from the back of Kesavan the elephant, I gloried in the task of killing all who came before me.
At some point in the midst of my frenzy, I became aware of signs of trouble to my left. I headed in that direction and, from my vantage point on Kesavan’s back, I saw our commander engaged in a terrific struggle against Drona.
Dhristadyumna’s chariot lay shattered around him; as I watched, he rushed forward with his mace only for Drona to cut it to pieces with his arrows. Dhristadyumna continued to advance, swinging his drawn sword to clear a path through the opposing foot soldiers and get at his tormentor, but he was clearly at a disadvantage.
I jumped down onto my chariot and had Visokan charge straight at Drona. The large cutting swords attached to the axle of my chariot churned through the opposing foot soldiers as I concentrated my fury on Drona.
With my first salvo I cut down his flagpole, which is the archer’s first line of defence; even as he turned his attention towards me, I cut his bow in half with another volley of arrows.
Years ago, when we studied war craft under him in Hastinapura, he had contemptuously rejected my skills as an archer and publicly said I was only fit to wrestle for the amusement of the public – today was my opportunity to pay him back.
‘Fat fool!’
That long ago taunt rang in my ears. As Drona hurriedly strung his spare bow, I cut it into pieces; before he could re-arm himself I sent a volley of arrows between the shafts of his chariot, cutting the bindings. Freed of their traces, his horses bolted, overturning the chariot as they broke free.
As the old man tumbled out of the chariot and scrambled in the dust, I laughed out loud in triumph.
I flung aside my bow, grabbed my mace and was about to leap out of the chariot and close with him when Visokan warned of danger approaching from my right. The Kalinga king Srutayu, mounted on a mammoth tusker and leading a large force of elephants and men, was rushing to Drona’s aid.
Visokan told me later that he had never been as alarmed as when he saw me leap off the chariot and, mace in hand, run straight at Srutayu’s elephant.
Years ago, in the paddocks of Hastinapura, the old mahout who was my mentor had taught me of this one fatal weakness of the elephant: between the two masses of bone on its forehead there is a very small, unprotected gap where its nerve endings are clustered, and where it is most vulnerable to pain.
Approaching the elephant at a dead run, I timed my jump and grabbed its tusk with my left hand. In the same motion, using the momentum to augment my strength, I swung the mace at that precise spot on its forehead I had been taught so long ago.
Maddened by the pain, Srutayu’s elephant reared on its hind legs while I hung on for dear life. As his front feet hit the earth I swung again, smashing the mace repeatedly onto that spot. Squealing in pain and rage, the beast swung around in a circle, shaking its head violently to dislodge me; the other elephants panicked at the sight of the enraged tusker and stampeded straight into the midst of their own troops.
Srutayu jumped off the back of his elephant and straight into my path; before he could recover his balance, I swung my mace in a crushing blow at his skull and roared in triumph as I felt the splatter of his blood on my face and arms.
The Kalinga forces, already scattered by the berserk fury of the elephants and now leaderless, turned tail and ran; I raced back to my chariot and set off in pursuit, slaughtering at will till the sudden blare of trumpets sounded the onset of dusk and the end of the day’s battle.
Dhristadyumna hugged me as I walked into his lodge for our evening review. “We had a good day today,” he said. “The battle went exactly as I had hoped; we inflicted heavy losses on their troops and took few losses of our own. I don’t think they’ve understood what we are trying to accomplish – they kept throwing their soldiers at us, which is exactly what I hoped they would do.”
Dhristadyumna had once told me that the war would be won not by the seasoned generals and the acharyas, but by the young – and it was increasingly easy to see why. He was breaking away from established strategies and tactics, adapting to the fact that we were outnumbered and finding his own solution to the problem while Bhisma, the most experienced warrior on either side, continued to operate within the confines of convention.
To my surprise, I saw Krishna stretched out on a plank bed on the floor of Dhristadyumna’s lodge, with attendants applying herbal salves to multiple wounds on his arms and chest. Arjuna was pacing the floor furiously; Abhimanyu walked beside him, talking earnestly to his father.
Noticing my look of surprise, Dhristadyumna pulled me aside. “That is the other thing I hoped would happen today,” he said when we were out of earshot. “For all Krishna’s advice, Arjuna has been reluctant to fight. He is fine when facing the troops, but the minute he catches sight of one of the gurus he loses his will.”
My brother was ranging free on the right, slaughtering soldiers in their dozens when Bhisma charged up in his chariot to oppose him. Arjuna lost his fervor; the grandsire however held nothing back in a ferocious attack.
“Arjuna would have turned his chariot about rather than fight, but by then some of Bhisma’s arrows wounded Krishna,” Dhristadyumna told me. “The sight of Krishna bleeding drove your brother into a fury; he forgot who he was fighting, and my father tells me Arjuna fought so brilliantly, many on both sides nearby stopped to watch. The old man was forced to turn his chariot about and race away from the field, they tell me.”
Abhimanyu walked with me as I returned to my lodge that night. “Valiyacha [father’s elder brother],” he said as we walked, “your son Sarvadhan is amazing! Trigartha and his men attacked us today while uncle Dhristadyumna was battling Drona – you should have seen Sarvadhan fight, oof! He routed them all on his own, and I saw Trigartha fall wounded in his chariot. You must tell my uncle to put Sarvadhan with cheriyachan [father’s younger brother] Nakula – we are somewhat weak in that section.”
I stood still for long moments, bemused by the self-confidence of this boy who was yet to turn 16. His deeds today were, I was told, so prodigious Dhristadyumna had decided to invite him to represent the younger generation in our daily council of war.
Abhimanyu, Sarvadhan, Sutasoman, Prativindhyan… young boys of fifteen and sixteen who should by rights be enjoying their youth, basking in the attentions of the palace maids and who instead were fighting beside us as equals, and making us proud with their deeds.
They were, I realized at that moment, the real future of our race. In time to come, perhaps, our chief claim to fame would be that we were their fathers; when they spoke of me it would be as the father of Sarvadhan, as Abhimanyu’s uncle…
We sat down to our meal. Like the boy he really was, he spoke with enthusiasm of all that he had seen that day – but I noticed that even in the full flight of his excitement, he never once spoke of his own part in the day’s battle.
A terrific clamor interrupted our meal. Visokan came running in. “A new group has come to join us,” he announced, smiling broadly. “The whole army has turned out to watch the fun – soldiers in carts drawn by bulls bigger than you have ever seen… dozens and dozens of wild horses… and they’ve even brought their own food – pigs, cows… come, see, it’s a big tamasha…”
Visokan darted out again. Moments later, a tall young man stepped through the door and prostrated at my feet.
“News travels slowly to us who live in the forest,” Ghatotkachan said as I raised him to his feet and looked at him in wonder – not least because I had to look up at him.
He had grown considerably since that last time I saw him, when he had with casual indifference gifted Yudhishtira Jatan’s head wrapped in a leaf and walked off into the forest without a word. His voice, when he spoke, was that of a man full grown.
“I am here to fight on your side, father – and I have brought an army with me.”
“I’ll take our brother to the lodge where we are staying,” Abhimanyu said, touching Ghatotkachan’s feet.
“No, no one needs to worry about us – we are most at home sleeping on the ground, under the stars, and we have brought our food with us,” Ghatotkachan smiled. “Father, I’ll see you in the morning – tell me what you expect of me, and it will be done.”
He turned and strode out without a glance, while Abhimanyu and I looked at each other in bemusement.
PostScript: I am travelling this week and will not be accessing the net for the duration. The next episode, and regular blog updates on cricket and all else, resume Monday July 6. See you here then; be well, meanwhile.
PPS: For those asking, no, I am not doing a game by game round up on the India-Windies series, but will do an end-of-series post on some off the ball thoughts when I get back from my travels. Later, peoples…
29 comments
Awesome! More than made up for Day 1!! Keep them coming, Prem.
brilliant work – can I ask how much of the narrative is from the original and how much is your own embellishment? the war segment has really kicked the story up a notch
Hmm… I’d think half and half most of the time, but it varies.
For instance, MTV in this episode mentions the formation and who fights where. I added the reasoning behind the strategy — why the Pandavas decided to fight in that formation, and why they decided to focus on knocking off the troops rather than the leaders.
The Drona-Bhim battle is about 30 per cent MTV and 70 per cent me; the Krishna injured and Arjuna angry bit is 80 per cent MTV and 20 per cent me, Abhimanyu talking to Bhim, and Bhim’s sudden realization of just what these young boys are doing, came mostly from MTV, as also the entry of Ghatotkacha.
I’d think overall, I check MTV’s storyline, elaborate where I think necessary, add where I can as long as I am sourcing or extrapolating from the original Jayam version of the Mahabharat, so tough to quantify — some episodes have been entirely MTV, some have been entirely mine, most are a mix.
Ah yes, the battle with Srutayu. MTV writes of Bhim jumping on the elephant and delivering a blow to that spot. I wrote bits into that portion, prior [recalling the teachings of the mahout] and after — Bhim hanging on, multiple blows, the panic, and the killing of the Kalinga king.
I’ve been asked this question before, about how much of this is mine. Elaborating, so folks understand it is difficult to quantify. I start with figuring out where I want to start and end, since mine is episodic while MTV’s narration is more flowing.
I then think back to what MTV has written on that, see where logic and the original Jayam dictate additions, think those bits through, weave it together and then see if it all hangs together; when I’m comfortable I put the thing up.
Righto — gone.
I think (vaguely recall) Bhim rescuing Dhristadyumnan.
Always thought Rukmi, given his animosity with Krishna, fought for Duryodhana. Did not know – Prem can answer this – that he fought on the Pandava side.
Have not read anywhere about the Drona-Bhim “cold” relationship. This is the first time I come across such a version.
This is also the first time I read about the Pandava war strategy of vanquishing the opposition troops instead of the generals. All versions I read were always about 1-1 (at times many-1) combats of super hero fighters from both sides. the importance of the ground troops have almost always been diminished in all versions I have read.
This version is refreshingly different whether it is MTV’s or Prem’s. This episode in particular is very very good – made me read fast to actually see what happens at the end of the day. 🙂
The Ghatotkacha version is interesting as well. He was one man who wrecked maximum havoc on the Kaurava army.
The original Jayam has Rukmi fighting for the Pandavas. The accepted version has Rukmi going to Duryodhana, who mocks him and sends him away, he then comes to the Pandavas but they send him away too, so he ends up spending the war in enforced neutrality.
If you think back to the student days of the Pandavas,I had in one episode spoken of how Drona stops Bhima while he is in the middle of archery practice on a chariot, and of the teacher’s insistence that Bhima should practice hand to hand and the mace, also of the occasional insults and how Bhima took to practicing what he wanted to later, after everyone had gone. With that history, when Bhima meets Drona in actual combat with so much at stake, fairly logical that he would want to prove his point.
The versions you read are the ones that celebrate the mythos. Arjuna son of Indra, Bhima son of Vayu and all the rest of it — there is no place there for the foot soldiers. But if you think about it, battling the heroes one on one wouldn’t have won the war for the Pandavas. By the time Bhisma, the first of the big Kaurava warriors, dies, the Pandava army would have been overwhelmed by the weight of the opposing numbers. Hence, this strategy — reduce the advantage, then battle the big ones.
Brilliant, this was a hair raising episode!!
Thomas, Prahlad, et al, thanks for the kind words. Here on, I am not going to be in a position to access the net, so any other questions you have will be answered only next weekend, when I get back to civilization. Cheers all.
I think you did listen to your audience even though you said it wont be the case – The second day episode had extra bits from outside too not just Bim. 🙂
Actually, no, the second episode turned out the way I had planned it anyway, before beginning the war section, and not out of feedback. Not dissing feedback — in fact, the comments through these 12 months have been fascinating; just that if you are doing something there has to be a governing vision [in this case, the original author’s supplemented by mine]; if you start chopping and changing because of audience response, the story will lose its edge and become the sort of Bollywood film where there is a bit of everything in order to ‘satisfy’ some mythical audience.
Brilliant Prem! had goose bumps all over while reading it.
Awsome writing man! write a novel..
Awsomesh writing !!
Goosebumps all over !!
Very good episode. Turn the series into a screenplay, may be starting just before and ending with the war, with the rest as flashback. sell it to hollywood. War sells 🙂
Wow…Goosebumps!! In fact most of your writing gives that, but this was just awesome.
Thanks Prem.
What’s MTV? Not, Music Television, I assume.
MTV is M T Vasudevan Nair, Malayalam Novelist, on whose novel ‘Randamoozham’, this narrative is loosely based.
I think your cricket writing has come to picture here in the war scenes and strategising. I can feel you at home here 🙂
This has been absolutely marvelous episode!! Since the war began, you have truly entered in a zone of your own. Reading mahabharat was never so much fun! thanks!!
Since this is my first comment here I wanted to add that I never felt comfortable with the episodic treatment that you have used to recreate Mahabharat. It lessens the fluidity of the overall narrative. Also, since you are trying to shorten the storyline, I think the character development suffers to an extent. For example, characters like Krishna, Arjun, Yudhishthir, Duryodhan, Karna and Draupadi are too much fun to be treated uni-dimensionally.
I hope someday somebody (hopefully you) supplements your “Bhim-Puran” with versions of same story with different eyes (from Draupadi for example). That would be so deliciously Roshomon. 🙂
Typo alert! That was Rashomon!
The episodic treatment was not by choice, but because it was the only viable alternative available to me.
I personally prefer fluid narrative as opposed to forced gymnastics to give each episode a good beginning and ending — but when doing the story as a series on a blog, it would have read badly had I done it narrative style, breaking off the story on reaching a certain word count.
Character development ‘suffers’ not because of the episodic character but because of the viewpoint. Take Duryodhana, Karna etc, for instance: how would Bhim ever know them at close quarters for him to be witness to their characters? They meet briefly when they are kids, and then again, the dice game, then the war.
There have been many books written from various other points of view. Draupadi, Karna, even Duryodhana. Put them all together and you get your Rashomon. I don’t know if I have the energy to attempt it, though — this one version is already 1 lakh words, and close to a year of effort and there is still a lot to go.
A truly stunning episode! I have to say, as the narrative progresses, my respect for mother and son (Hidimbi and Ghatotkach) is going up a few notches. Here is a young man whose father abandoned his pregnant mother. A family that disowns him because of his lack of “pure Aryan” blood, yet this warrior peerless in his craft comes to fight by the side of his father out of sheer sense of duty as a son. Also, what a selfless woman Hidimbi had to be to send her first born to fight a dangerous war when there was nothing really at stake for her in this.
Ironically, when the war is over and Yudhishtira does his Rajasuya, it is the sons of Karna and Ghatotkacha who help him. That yaga requires a white horse with black on the forehead, according to vedic prescription; the only king who had such a horse refused to give it up, so the two boys volunteer, defeat the king in battle and recover the horse.
Awesome description of the war, and it keeps getting better.
Having watched LOTR again recently, I kept remembering the battle scenes from the films as I read this, particularly the cavalry charges. Of course, this meant that the story of Bhim jumping on the elephant evoked the visual of Legolas surfing the Oliphaunt’s trunk 🙂
Awesome description of the battle !! Waiting for the next episode ..
Wanted to know one thing if it is mentioned in the original. That is the number of people involved in the war and the size of each division. A couple of places I read the total number to be close to 4 million.!!
One of the reasons I have issues accepting the ‘accepted’ version of the Mahabharat is precisely that — the size of the armies.
The story pits 7 Pandava Akshauhinis against 11 for the Kauravas — that is approximately 1.6 million individual units [including horses, elephants et al] against 2.5 million units.
That would be considerably larger than the strength of the Indian army today, including both actives and reserves. Consider that today’s army represents the entire country, whereas the Kurukshetra combatants represented only about 13 or so of dozens of kingdoms across Bharat — no way there were enough people alive then to support that kind of troop strength.
Logically, considering that most of those kingdoms were cattle-wealthy, an army a few thousand strong would be counted as extremely powerful. And that is how Jayam, the original, deals with the war — sizeable by the standards of those times, but nowhere near what the Mahabharat claims.
One of the version i read was that the Krishna avatar was primarily aimed at the Mahabharata war. And the focus was reducing the population which was growing beyond control at that point in time. With the war, there was total devastation and it took sometime for the population to get back into a positive rate of growth.
again – hypothetical but maybe a plausible explanation.
To repeat something said earlier — thanks all for the many kind words. When I started to do this I wasn’t sure what the response would be; I figured I’d do it anyway irrespective. It’s turned out to be a far harder job than I originally imagined, but the response, both in terms of the number of people reading, and the kind of comments, has made the effort worthwhile. My thanks.
Having withdrawal symptoms. Next episode required soon 😉
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