The Kuru War: A Mahabharata Fiction

2| Shiva the Destroyer

A unit of armored men had gathered below the house on which Bhishma stood. The city seemed to be quickly getting back on its feet after Bhishma blighted the Pishachasa Sena with a series of devastating energy blasts from his bow. While he kept the bloodthirsty creatures at bay, most civilians got enough time to retreat to the back of the city. They were able to fend off any Pishachasa that had somehow survived the initial invasion, and a patrolling battalion of elite archers took care of any airborne threats that remained camouflaged inside the smoke-filled skies.

Bhishma gawked at the crumbling bazaar streets in front of him. He couldn't help but wonder how many innocent human lives were lost in order to protect the rest. He did not know how many people were still trapped inside the burning houses or the number of soldiers who fought at the frontlines when his arrows rained from the skies. Bhishma couldn't help but feel an unbearable weight on his shoulders, weight of the decisions he had made with neither authority nor trust from the people of Hastinapur. Of course, everyone he saved supported him, but what of the ones he killed? Did they approve?

It was the first time that Bhishma had used Yug Pralaya to its full potential. It hadn't been very long since he possessed it. And was certainly unaware of the extent of its powers.

"Never chant the weapon's name when you shoot, unless you desire the total annihilation of your foes at all costs."

Words that his Gurudev spoke when he obtained the bow rung in his ears like a bell. On the other hand, it was strangely satisfying to harness a power that could single-handedly bring down an entire army. But Bhishma was careful to acknowledge such an ability to be justifiable only in dire circumstances. Perhaps, the better question was, if the situation was dire enough? Was he really out of all possible options or did he just take the easy way out?

"Lord Shiva! We are grateful that you reward our city's devotion in this perilous time," said one of the armored man on the street below.

He stood in a group of soldiers that looked unlike the rest of the army. They wore thick steel breastplate over a blue tunic and stood in a circular defensive formation holding large pavise shields and spears. The man who spoke was standing in the middle, wearing much lighter armor and a yellow chariot sigil on his chest. He held his helmet in his hands as he stared at Bhishma, waiting for him to reply.

As soon as Bhishma's eyes met the man on the ground, he knew it was Vajra. The general of the Hastinapur army. He was only a commander when Bhishma was removed from the capital two decades ago, but he wore a General's attire that night. Promoted on the grounds of his battle knowledge or perhaps his deep political reach inside the king's council. No matter the case, Vajra was the mightest swordsmen that Bhishma had ever known, apart from his Guru that is.

Bhishma dawned an old woolen cape that masked a majority of his face under its hood that he just pulled up. He jumped off the roof at once and landed gracefully inside the circle of soldiers. His tall, broad-shouldered stature towered over the armored men around him. Vajra abruptly dropped down on his knees and bent forward touching Bhishma's feet with his hands and forehead. It was an ancient tradition of extending one's highest respect towards another. A common practice among Gurus and their disciples.

Do they actually think that I am Shiva the Destroyer wielding Yug Pralaya? Even so, I can't afford to lose any time explaining.

"General Vajra. Where is king Shantanu?" asked Bhishma as he gently held the man by his shoulders, pulling him up from his feet.

"My lord Shiva, king Shantanu took some of my best men to the palace gardens. We believe that a Raakshasa controls the Pishachasa Sena and led them into Hastinapur. The king has gone looking for him, but I am afraid..."

Vajra looked desperately at Bhishma's hooded face. The blue light emanating from Yug Pralaya reflected in his begging eyes. Nobody seemed surprised by the fact that there was no exchange of identities. Everyone believed Shiva to be an omnipotent entity with a vast knowledge of the universe. Hence, Bhishma knew he wouldn't shock anyone by saying Vajra's name.

"I sent another unit to find the king, but none of them returned either. We were about to head over there ourselves but that's when the Bal Pishach broke through the northern gates," said Vajra.

"I need your horse," replied Bhishma after a brief moment of thought.

Vajra turned to look at one of his soldiers who nodded in response and rushed to the end of the narrow bazaar block. He picked a hulking brown steed from a set of armored horses and jogged back with the reins in his hand.

"Wait for my signal before entering the gardens. I will find the king," said Bhishma.

Vajra pressed his palms together and slightly bent forward as Bhishma mounted the steed. His soldiers followed their general and bowed as well.

With Yug Pralaya in his left hand and the horse's reins in his right, Bhishma rode at great speeds through the destroyed city bazaar. Dead remains of humans and Pishachasa could not be discerned from one another. Pools of blood flooded the streets mixed with meaty blobs of charred flesh and shards of darkened bone. Yug Pralaya, an ancient Sanskrit name that loosely translated to - The Calamity of an Era, certainly proved to be a weapon worthy of its title.

Bhishma rode past burnt concentric spots on the destroyed structures, marking the points of impact by his arrows. Their energy radiated outwards killing any living being without judgment. No civilian or soldier who hadn't already made it past Bhishma when he started his attack could survive.

The king's gardens were situated in the middle of the capital city. But the shortest route to it was blocked by a mountain of debris from the large houses of rich nobles that lived near the palace, far from the commoners who remained cramped against the outer walls. Bhishma took an alternate path around the blocked district, along the north wall where the Pishachasa attack first began.

Empty steel armor and chariot sigil shields lay scattered in front of the northern gates that were shattered by the Bal Pishachsa. Bhishma's horse hopped past the burnt remains of soldiers, choosing to step on the metal and rubble instead of the dead bodies. Many brave souls of the city had perished. But they died passionately chanting of their god who had descended from Dev Lok to liberate them.

There was no other way. I couldn't have stopped the Pishachasa if they crossed the defensive lines at the main gates. It was the only way. It was the only way... I had to save the women and children. Otherwise, all would be lost forever.

People of Hastinapur were a religious lot. They believed in gods, heaven, afterlife, and many such ideas that provided them a comforting alternative to the dark reality of death and disease. It reinforced their faith that they shall be protected as long as they lived under the laws of Karma and paid their part. And when their god appeared to reward their reverence, protecting them from an army of evil, they felt rejoiced to lay their lives in peace, wrapped in their soft blanket of religious dogma.

Bhishma closed his eyes in silent prayer. An expression of anguish possessed his face. Throughout the remainder of his ride, he mourned for every person who died defending Hastinapur that night.