Scars Of An Archer: A Poetic Rendition✅

Day 15: Fall of a Preceptor

The sun set, there was no light,
With burning torches, the fight
Went on the fourteenth night,
Despite their very poor sight.

Once the spirit of vengeance is up,
The rules of the war are given up.
Then man becomes a wild animal,
In any era, this is found natural.

The same thing happened then
In the Kurukshetra war, when
"Tit for Tat" spirit, up it worked,
No wonder, the rules were flouted.

Ghatotkacha, Bhima's asura son,
He attacked violently everyone.
As asuras were strongest at night,
Time was favourable to his fight.

"Kill this demon at once.
On his head no sense.
Otherwise, he'll finish us.
Karna, please save us."

So spoke Duryodhana to Karna.
‘Indra Astra' he kept for Arjuna,
Not more than once to be used.
On this giant, in a hurry, he used.

To save Arjuna, Bhima's son died
Pandavas were now afraid
Of the Drona's wrath-in-peak
That, in retaliation, began to speak.

Krishna said, "Oh Arjuna,
None can defeat this Drona.
No fair means, work it will
In a foul way, we've to kill."

"He'll desist from fighting,
His son's death on hearing.
This lie someone should tell.
On Yudhishthira's head it fell.

Never a lie he spoke, but truth.
So, Drona, in him, had faith.
Aswatthama, an elephant died.
At Bhima's strike, it was killed.

This news Yudhisthira told,
In trembling voice, not so bold.
"It's true, Aswatthama is killed."
In the din, the rest was drowned.

Drona didn't hear the word,
The ‘elephant' when he said,
He took it for his dear son,
Who was no more then.

Once his son was lost,
He gave up the fight at last.
When weapons he dropped.
His head was chopped.

Dhristadyumna did this crime
Destiny played cruel this time.
Drona met this tragic death.
What a lie, that appeared as truth?

Day fifteen dawns with heavy dread,
For Drona, the master, has been misled.
Yudhishthira's words, a cruel twist of fate,
Speak of his son’s death, sealing his state.

Drona lays down his arms, in sorrow he yields,
And as he meditates, his spirit now shields.
Drishtadyumna strikes, and Drona falls,
A mentor, a warrior, lost to it all.

I watch as my teacher, once full of grace,
Finds peace at last in this deadly race.
But even his death cannot end the pain,
For the war rages on, soaked in blood and disdain.

Krishna speaks, urging me on,
But with every battle, my hope feels gone.
The day ends with victory’s hollow cheer,
Yet all I feel is sorrow near.