Third Prahar, Margashirsha Krishna Ashtami, 3162 BCE:
The arc distance between two marked warriors on the spiral gave Veer an idea of the size of the Vyuha and the layers between him and the epicenter. As Sumitra sped the horses, Veer spotted a pair of nervous soldiers ahead of them. He shot the two soldiers next to the scared pair. And in one continued swift motion, the arm that drew the bowstring also hurled two knives that lodged into the throats of the scared soldiers. The kills had to be precise, and the trick was to make four kills in quick succession to sneak the chariot in. Veer penetrated into the second layer, and then the third, and so on. The direction of the chariot in successive layers was according to a pseudo-random sequence that Veer and Sumitra had agreed upon.
When enemies penetrated into the next layer, the previous layer’s marked warriors blew a conch. Conch blows were encoded in binary – a short blow meant zero, and a long blow meant one. It was rare that a formation ever had more than eight layers, so three conch blows were sufficient to identify the layer breached. Veer enjoyed the fact that the announcements succeeded with progressively shorter gaps, raising panic in the warriors, and shivers in the sound of the conches. A war is won with spirit far before it is won with strength – Mama would often say.
In the clearing – the eye of the storm, he spotted them – the six hyenas waiting to prowl. His uncles Duryodhana and Dushasana, Baba’s teachers Dronacharya and Kripacharya, Baba’s arch nemesis Karna, and the notorious king of Gandhara, Shakuni. A much longer sequence of conch blows filled the clearing, when he heard footsteps of the soldiers turning, interlocking their shields – the switchback had locked him in the Vyuha. Veer’s first instinct was to shoot arrows at Shakuni – arguably the weakest of the lot, but decided otherwise. Holding onto his bow, he folded his arms into a namaste to the teachers of the royalty. Dushasana laughed, “So the mighty Dhananjay’s son penetrates the Chakravyuha, only to surrender in fear of the maharathis.” He continued, “Feeling scared, boy? That there’s six of us, and you got caught alone. Don’t worry, we’ll go easy.”
“Kaka!” Veer smirked. “Three regiments, six maharathis, and I needed only eighteen arrows and four knives to get in. I really am scared I’ll singlehandedly vanquish your military reputation by last light.” Guru Drona kept a stoic expression, but Veer did not fail to notice how his chest puffed up a little with pride. The king of Gandhara turned to his nephew, “Duryodhana, our window is today. If this boy’s father returns victorious, you will never get to avenge Lakshman.” Duryodhana was seething with anger, also not interested in words. He wanted to taste blood, and his will had its way in the Kaurava army. Drona unleashed a host of warriors, on foot, on horseback, with arrows and maces and swords, all at once. Unfazed, Veer dropped his bow for a sword and shield. “Sumitra, keep the chariot ready when I come back – we’ll go for a ride.” He jumped over the horses and rolled onto the battleground.No one can prepare for a lightning strike. They only witness its consequences. Amidst all the noise of galloping knights and rampaging rooks, the rhythmic slashing of Veer’s sword was the loudest and the last sound soldiers facing him could hear. Blades met his shield, arrows bounced off it, spears rammed into it, but none of it would slow Veer. As he charged, he left a trail of swords, spears, fingers, toes, hands, feet, arms, legs, and an offering of severed heads to Yama – the god of justice, in his wake. Once he got bored of flesh and bones, he flipped the sword, and its serrated edge now sought the taste of livers and guts. Ahead of him, Veer saw a brooding Duryodhana drag his mace towards Veer. Let’s get this over with. The crowd ahead of him trembled like cattle awaiting sacrifice, when he leaped towards his uncle. Arrows rained on him mid-air, he took shelter behind the shield, briefly losing focus on Duryodhana. The gap was just enough for Drona to drag him back to safety. Veer was enraged. A tiger did not tolerate its prey being snatched away. This war was slowing down in his mind, and he needed a change. Tethering his shield to his back, he turned to his chariot. This time, his blade showed more mercy to the warriors in front of him, and went straight for all their heads. What was a dismembered soldier worth to the Kauravas anyway. He reached the chariot, and gave his sword a rest. Veer’s blade rarely ever came back without being soaked in blood. Strapping on his quiver, he roared, “All of you will pay for the words you uttered about Mother Panchali.” Sumitra whipped the horses on cue, and Veer’s shower of arrows was the most devastating downpour anyone had ever seen in an entire millennium of a war-torn earth.
Fourth Prahar, Margashirsha Krishna Ashtami, 3162 BCE:
“Did your Guru Bhargava teach you that trick, Angaraj?” bellowed Veer, as he dropped his now broken bow, courtesy of Karna, to the ground. Karna could not meet his eye. Duress had defined his entire life. Every time he wanted to walk the path of righteousness, he was reminded that the life of respect that he led now was a favour that cloaked his worthless existence in this society, by Duryodhana.What life? What respect? – he would ponder later that day. But this much was true – his life would have amounted to nothing, if not for his friend. He may be in the wrong today, but when they won the war, it would be the greatest act of friendship – to lay down one’s own morals. After all, wasn’t history written to justify the morale of the victorious? He may be committing a sin, but after enduring a long life of abandonment, he would rather suffer in hell than refuse to repay his debt to the man who called him a friend when no one else even considered him a human.
Veer was agile and had quick reflexes. His body was sensing the attacks even before Karna made a move. Duryodhana estimated Veer would be overwhelmed facing a seasoned warrior, but he seemed to have analyzed every warrior’s strengths and weaknesses, and was playing them to his advantage. Shakuni then made it clear he had no intention of keeping this a fair fight. On Duryodhana’s orders, Karna took down Veer’s exit route – his bow, while he was engaged in a fight with another warrior. Guru Kripa lodged arrows into Sumitra’s throat – killing him instantly, and another warrior killed the horses. Veer’s only hope was Dhananjay returning – and that seemed to take a while. When Karna finally looked into Veer’s eyes, there was no fear, and the last of his rage was gone. It was replaced by a chilling calm that felt like a dagger was plunged into his heart. They were the eyes of a person who had made befriended death, and struck a deal to bring several others with him. His eyes shone of the victory handed to him the moment his enemies decided they could not take him down in a fair fight. He strapped the shield onto his back, picked up an axe with his left hand, and the sword in his right, blood still dripping from its previous trip.
He ambushed soldiers like they were unsuspecting prey. Thanks to the axe, heads no longer rolled. They flew, and the arteries spewed blood in celebration of his valor. “Har Har Mahadev!” He finally called upon the god of destruction, flung his sword into the sky, jumped over a crouching soldier, drove his axe into the skull of the Magadhan prince, caught his sword back by the hilt and rushed to Drona with the blade and shield. He flung himself at the Guru, with his sword going for the teacher’s throat. Drona had been waiting for this moment. Veer’s wrist was angled slightly off, so his grip of the sword was not perfect for the direction he was aiming. Drona’s sword stood firmly orthogonal to the blade’s flat side. Veer’s strength was no match for the teacher’s eye, and his sword shattered to pieces before he could blink an eye. Karna sprung to action. He charged towards Veer, picking a fallen mace on his way. Disorienting him now was their best chance of gaining control back. But Veer recovered quickly, unhooking his shield, just in time to hold up against Karna bringing down the mace on him. The Metal sheet prevented the mace from causing catastrophic damage, but the impact was relayed to the wooden lining behind, which cracked, the handle broke and the shield was of no further use to Veer.
Abandoning the last of his tools, he sprinted back towards his chariot, which he saw men attempting to dismantle. But as he reached the chariot, Shakuni shot the explosive and poisonous yavakshaar projectile at the chariot, rendering his ammunition useless, if not more dangerous to salvage. Karna was not proud of what they had done, but victory was in reach if they broke Dhananjay’s spirit. Though it seemed breaking Veer’s spirit was a lot harder. Unable to salvage his arms, he pulled the wheel out of the burning chariot, and decimated all the soldiers advancing towards him. Karna watched in awe as he spun the wheel above his head, just in time to defend against Drona’s attack with arrows from above. Karna was taken back several decades ago, to when the great Bhargava Rama had his axe against Karna’s sternum. Son, your bow, arrows, swords, axe – even mine – all of these are merely tools. You are the weapon that takes the enemy down.
Those words were etched into Karna’s mind, but Veer seemed to have etched them into his soul – for he was limitless. Nothing was ever a setback to this boy. He was the kind of warrior Karna imagined to sing praises of to his grandchildren – if his children ever lived to see life after the war. Just then, a spear lodged into the spinning chariot wheel, narrowly missing Veer, instantly splintering the wooden wheel. He finally saw a hint of rage in Veer, who picked up a mace lying by, and headed towards the teacher’s son – Ashwatthama, without giving a damn about anything else. Karna was quick to respond this time. Veer was swinging the mace at the remains of Ashwatthama’s chariot when he stopped mid-attack; there were ten arrows that pierced his armour and flesh, all at once.