These are the opening lines for a full description of the battle scene in which able fighters on both sides, armed with a variety of weapons, are confronting one another, ready for the eruption of the historic battle. When one reads the list of names of eminent kings and valiant men of stature who were present, it is difficult to imagine that these are but concocted names. There is something authentic in all this, especially when we see a name like the King of Kāshi – a city that is vibrant to this day.
Battle-myths are as ancient as epics. The Sumerian epic Gilgamesh is about a king who is so dedicated to wars that the gods send Enkidu to fight him. The Latin poet Virgil’s Aeneid deals with the Homeric Trojan war. Here we find the idea that some day Rome would conquer all nations, after which there would be no more wars. Virgil wanted to establish Rome-rājya by inspiring his people. “You Romans,” he wrote, “Remember, these are your arts: To rule nations, and to impose the ways of peace, to spare the humble and to war down the proud.”
The Classic Japanese epic Heike Monogatori narrates the fights between two clans for full control of the country. Here we read: “The proud don’t endure, they are like a dream on a spring night; the mighty fall at last, they are as dust before the wind.” This reminds us of the principle of satyameva jayate: truth alone (ultimately) wins.
The medieval English epic Beowulf narrates the conflict between Swedes and Geats caused by claims of Hrothgar:
The storm of their strife, were seen afar,
how folk against folk the fight had wakened.
The Mahābhārata War is etched in Indic cultural psyche, as the Trojan War of Homer’s Iliad is in the Greek mind. Most ancient Greeks believed that the war was as historical as many Hindus do/did about the Kurukshetra. In the late nineteenth century archeological finds in Turkey were interpreted as the region of ancient Troy. The general consensus now seems to be that some conflict of the kind described in the Iliad probably took place. As to whether characters like Helen and Menelaus, Paris and Agamemnon actually lived in flesh and blood, it is not as incontrovertibly established. The same may be said of the Mahābhārata War also.
In any conflict situation there are protagonists on both sides. Each side is convinced it is for the righteous cause. Ideally, and in myths and movies, there is a just, if not ways a happy ending in which the good ones triumph.
However, in real history the righteous have not always won. In the meanwhile, however, competing values and perspectives come into play. This phase may last longer than the victory celebrations by the winning side. During such periods, countless innocent people suffer and perish. In our own times, bloody conflicts (ideological, economic, political, societal, cultural, and more) are going on all over the world.
The imagery in the Gītā of mighty forces facing each other is a powerful portrayal of this not infrequent human plight. This is so as much in the real world where nations stare at each other with readiness to unleash battle as in the metaphorical sense of forces for good and evil within oneself.
Bhīma, Arjuna, Bhīshma, Droṇa and all are so many names for the countless opposing convictions that often toss us in confusion. The linking of Dharmakshetra and Kurukshetra is a powerful metaphor. Never in all of human history, save in the imaginary utopias of inspiring poets, has there been a country where peace and righteousness reigned supreme for a long time. Confronting such oppositions is part of being human.
Yuyudhana was also known as Satyaki. He had once been Arjuna’s student, and was always loyal to Krishṇa. He had been a disciple of Droṇachārya, whose mighty bow he is said to have broken one hundred and one times. He had been with Krishṇa on a peace mission to the Kurus. Arjuna had great regard and affection for Yuyudhana. During their exile the Pāṇḍavās were at king Virāta’s realm. The king’s daughter Uttara married Arjuna’s son Abhimanyu. In the Kurukshetra battle he died at the hands of Droṇa.