What if a modern human is whisked in the body of Karna. In this reimagining of Karna's journey, I delve into the depths of his experiences and emotions, illuminating the complexities of a character often defined by his tragic fate. From his initial...
(Place: Purv Mahavidalya, between Magadh, Chedi and Kasi)
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
As the campfire crackled and illuminated the eager faces of my students, Shrutakarma raised the age-old question with the certainty of youth, "Fighting from an elephant is far superior to any other way of fighting." The corners of my lips tugged slightly at his naivety.
"Why do you think so, Shrutakarma?" I asked, inviting the young mind to unravel his thoughts. We were deep in a nearby forest, where I often brought my students to teach them situational awareness, survival skills, and to attune them to the rhythms of nature. This particular group was a mix of students from both the Paschim Mahavidyalaya and the Purva Mahavidyalaya.
Shrutakarma, undeterred by my question, elaborated, "In comparison to other beasts of war, elephants can be used for direct attacks. Their trunk and legs provide unique attack options, and their immense strength acts as a battering ram. The warrior sits high above, out of the reach of most weapons, and can oversee the battlefield from an elevated position."
I nodded, acknowledging his points. "Hm... that way, elephants do seem far superior to other animals of war. How many of you agree with Shrutakarma's assessment?" I asked, scanning the group. Most of the students nodded in agreement.
"Let's analyze this further," I began, steering the discussion into deeper waters. "First, let's consider the nature of elephants themselves. They are found in the wild, and once they reach adulthood, they have no natural predators. Other carnivores dare not attack a group of elephants due to their immense strength. Do you agree?"
"Yes, Gurudev," came the unanimous response.
"Now, what is the natural tendency of an elephant when attacked by, say, a lion?" I continued.
"It fights back," Sutasoma answered confidently.
"Exactly," I said, encouraging his response. "An elephant doesn't flee-it charges to attack. Now, can you see a potential problem with this in the context of a battle?"
Abhimanyu, ever inquisitive, interjected, "In a battle, an enraged elephant could become difficult to control. But we have measures to manage this behavior, don't we? Why is it a problem?"
"That's precisely the issue," I said, leaning forward to emphasize the point. "Suppose you are in a battle, and the enemy is fleeing. An enraged elephant will pursue them, breaking ranks and scattering your own troops. The discipline of your army is compromised, and much of your energy will be wasted trying to control the elephant. Are you with me so far?" I asked, and received a round of nods.
