Fourth Prahar, Margashirsha Krishna Ashtami, 3162 BCE:
“Do you hear that?” The same sadistic smile crept up on Jayadrath’s face, as a scream full of pain resounded from the center of the Chakravyuha. He swung the mace right into Bheem’s chest, sending him back without balance till he fell, tears in his eyes. He picked up a spear from the ground and tossed it in front of Yudhishthir. “Your nephew is screaming for help, Yudhishthir. Come fight me. Don’t you want to save him?”
“Stop this madness, Jayadrath. You want victory?” Yudhishthir bellowed, helpless. “I will surrender to Duryodhana. Take me to your camp. Let the boy go.”
Jayadrath spat on the ground, bringing forth every bit of disrespect he could garner. Another scream echoed from within the formation. Followed by laughs. Like hyenas around prey. “It’s frustrating how I got the babysitting duty, while the real fun is all happening in there. And what did you say? Surrender? Not on my watch, Yudhishthir. Plus, what do I gain if you surrender?” Crouching down to see the brothers on their knees, heads down and tears in eyes, he continued, “That stillborn lump of meat I am forced to call my brother-in-law – Duryodhana – will become king if you surrender, and I get a scroll thanking me for my services. The painful cries of your dear nephew, on the other hand, is a far more enjoyable experience.”
Nakul lost it at “enjoyable”. He charged at Jayadrath, picking his sword up along the way, and bringing it down on Jayadrath. Jayadrath swerved, twisted closer to Nakul and swiftly stood up, jamming his fist into Nakul’s chin with a powerful uppercut punch. As Nakul reeled back from the impact, Jayadrath twisted his sword hand, caught the slipping sword, and made a three-sixty degree turn before ramming the hilt into his sternum. He kicked Nakul in the abdomen, sending him back to where he started from. He tossed the sword back to Nakul, whose head was still ringing, and faced Yudhishthir. “So I see Nakul loves Veer more than you do.”
Another blood curdling scream reverberated from behind Jayadrath. “Oh that must be Dushasana. Do you think a blow from his axe can get past the armour and ribcage?” He saw Bheem clench his fists again. “Maybe you’ll find out when you do the post-mortem in the evening before his…” Jayadrath was caught off-guard, but recovered before Sahadev lunged at him with his axe. Quick on his feet, Jayadrath ducked, and rolled towards Sahadev, who was already stumbling from his own momentum. Jayadrath narrowly avoided him, and pulled Sahadev’s feet, who fell facing the ground, groaning. Picking up his axe, he swung the axe and the flat side of the blade shook as it met with Sahadev’s head. Jayadrath pulled him by his hair, and kicked him back to his place, and left the axe in front of him.
“Come on, guys!” Jayadrath was clearly deriving joy out of this torture. “That poor kid is in there, fighting so many warriors at once, and five of you can’t get past one guy you already defeated before?” Jayadrath aimed his energy at Bheem. “Or was that only because of Dhananjay? Any coward can win with arrows. It takes real fighting to be a man.” Taunting his brothers did not get a rise out of Bheem. Jayadrath switched to a different strategy. “But looking at how you guys fight, I’d prefer Dhananjay over you any day. Living with you eunuchs, I would think that wretched Draupadi also feels the …” Jayadrath was satisfied when Bheem charged at him, akin to a rogue elephant.
Jayadrath sharply lifted his foot from below the handle of the mace, till he got a hold on it with his left hand. Bheem was much larger than himself. He leaned in the direction Bheem was heading, and using his momentum against him, gripped him with his armour and flipped him over his shoulders. The earth shuddered beneath them. But before the tremor could end, he swung the mace onto Bheem’s chest, narrowly escaping his face. A second tremor spread beneath his feet. “I think this belongs to you, pumpkin.” He let the mace fall to his face.
Turning back to Yudhishthir, he realised they were all alone till the others’ senses returned. He was offended that nothing Jayadrath said triggered Yudhishthir. “Well, at least now we know he truly loves your wife.”
Jayadrath walked closer to Yudhishthir, and nudged the spear closer to him. “Come on, Yudhishthir! Are you happy with what is happening inside?” Yudhishthir raised his eyes, now empty of tears. Jayadrath was close to breaking him. Yes! A little more of this. The scream that came this time sent a chill down even Jayadrath’s spine. What the hell are they doing to this kid? If only he could watch the spectacle. Focus, Jayadrath! He turned to Yudhishthir.
“What’s in it for Veer anyway?” Jayadrath gave an animated expression of wonder. “Revenge for Draupadi? Not his mother. Does he succeed you to the throne? No, not your son. He could have lived a life of luxury in the Dwaraka palace with his uncles. Unless…” Jayadrath’s sinister eyes waited for Yudhishthir to react. “Unless you were worried Dhananjay would take over your kingdom with Madhav, and you are eliminating the competition for Prativindhya under the guise of this war. I must say, Yudhishthir. You are so much worse than that limping Shakuni. Killing your own kin? For what? A piece of land?” Yudhishthir lurched forward, picking up his spear to impale Jayadrath. Blocking the attack, he pushed Yudhishthir back to the ground, facing the afternoon sky, the spear pressing against his windpipe underneath Jayadrath’s foot. “Attempting another murder to cover up the one you plotted? And they call you an incarnation of justice and truth?” Jayadrath spat on Yudhishthir’s forehead.
Last Rays of Sun, Margashirsha Krishna Ashtami, 3162 BCE:
“Aaaarghhhh!” Veer’s cry was cut short when he coughed up blood. His uncle, Dushasana, kicked him from the side, while holding his right arm, dislocating his shoulder. Veer felt the bone slip out of the socket, and a cracking sound on his right side. Must be another rib. When Dushasana released his grip and Veer’s knees hit the ground, a jolt of pain shot up from his left femur, where an arrow jutted out from the back of his thigh. Blood and sweat traced his temples and drained into his eyes, clouding his vision. His breathing progressively worsened till he coughed up the blood pooled in his lungs. Regaining some energy, he laughed, “Uncle, you’re forgetting. I’m ambidextrous. Dislocating my right hand isn’t enough.”
The hyenas had circled around its prey, after ambushing it with deception. Of the lot, Duryodhana, Dushasana and Shakuni seemed to be enjoying the spectacle. Rummaging the ground, Veer’s left palm felt a dagger. Without losing momentum, he sprung forward, towards Dushasana. Dushasana laughingly stepped back, with the dagger narrowly missing his chest, but was too late to realize Veer’s true intentions. Pain spread through his entire being, focused on the left side, but was unable to move his leg which was now pinned to the ground with a dagger through it, and at least two broken bones. Veer lay on the ground, with a firm grip on the dagger, triumphantly smiling through Dushasana’s violent kicks to his face. The smile on Veer’s face reminded Duryodhana of his son’s murder. He walked over, and stomped hard on Veer’s dislocated shoulder. Veer cried in pain, and let go of the grip on the dagger. He held him by the neck, pulled him back on his feet, and swung his mace right into Veer’s face, sending him back into the center. Karna could not take it anymore. Veer had given Lakshman a very respectable death. And Duryodhana was taking his vengeance out of a boy completely drained of blood in his body. He decided to put an end to Veer’s suffering. He drew the bowstring with an arrow mounted, when Shakuni intervened, “Not yet, Angaraj. There is still time.”
“The sun is about to set, King Shakuni. Today’s victory is already yours. Take the win, and let the boy go with the respect he deserves,” Guru Drona finally spoke up.
“Duryodhana,” Guru Kripa chimed in. “The child has suffered several times more than Lakshman. Death is a mercy in comparison. Arrows have pierced every organ in his body. He will not survive even if we let him go. Relieve a warrior of his pain, son. What throne asks you to ascend it over children’s suffering?”
“Interesting,” Duryodhana crouched next to Dushasana, and slowly pulled the dagger out of his foot. “None of you had any condolences to offer when my own child, and the future of my kingdom was slain by this piece of filth.” He walked over to Veer, ruffled his bloodied, sweaty hair. “Did you look at that, Veer? None of these warriors – they call themselves that, can stomach the pain they see you suffering. Let’s show them that you can endure a tiny bit more, shall we?” He plunged the dagger into Veer’s left shoulder. Veer groaned with pain, his scream resounding in a quiet battlefield. Duryodhana stepped back to the circle to admire the work of art he had undertaken on the field.
“Kaka,” Veer mustered words between whimpers from pain. “I still hear words. That means I am here.” The pain from the stab wound was muddled underneath the disorientation from the concussion. “On the same ground where Lakshman died.” His mouth was filled with a metallic taste, from the blood dripping from his nose, and the blood swelling from his lungs. “He is dead. I am alive.” Veer was laughing, crying, and struggling to breathe, all at once. Shakuni drew his bow, aiming for Veer’s injured shoulder. That ought to send a message to the brothers pinned under Jayadrath, outside of the formation. But his arrow met with another, and was deflected. Shakuni was appalled to find Karna holding his bow. “Enough. Is. Enough” He bellowed. He dropped his bow, picked up a sword, and walked towards Veer. Duryodhana raised his voice, “Karna. Not yet. I want him to beg for his death.”
“He is a warrior. He must not beg.” Karna did not bother to look at Duryodhana, and walked further.
“Are you going to defy the crown prince’s order?” Shakuni was still in shock. “He who gave you the respect and the kingdom you enjoy today? Or have you digested their insults already?”
“Prince Duryodhana,” Karna stopped to look at his friend. “If you believe I am defying orders, you can strip me of my powers, privileges, and have me executed. I will happily give my head to your sword.” That left the entire battlefield in silence, except for the mourning of vultures circling the skies.
He rushed to hold Veer, who stumbled from fatigue and pain. The poor child. This war had lost its meaning the moment they resorted to unfair means to harm a child. He sat Veer down in his embrace, and poured some water from his satchel into his mouth. His smile had the same charm it did at noon, despite all the atrocities. Gashes all over his body, stab wounds across the abdomen, and shafts of arrows still lodged into his chest, broken bones, dislocated joints, bleeding nose, ears, and a concussed, disoriented head – full grown adults would not live to bear as many injuries in a lifetime as he had in half a day. “Son, I am proud of all that you have accomplished today,” his eyes welled up. “If your father were here, he would say the same.” Veer mustered all of his strength to make a fist and lay it on his chest.
“I am sure there will come a day when I will lose my horses, my charioteer will be long gone, and I will be stuck without arms or a chariot. And on that day, I will remind myself of you, and draw strength from your valor.” Karna wiped Veer’s face of all the blood, and poured water to clean him up. “Dhananjay and I have been at loggerheads all our lives to be proclaimed as the mightiest warrior. But today, you have taken that pride away from the both of us. There has never been a warrior on this planet that deserves that title more than you, nor will there be anyone in the future. And I could not have been prouder to be defeated by a warrior like you.” Tears rolled down Veer’s eyes and Karna’s.
“Baba…” Veer uttered. “Mama… proud…”
“Indeed, Veer. They would be proud of you.” Karna looked at the setting sun. “It’s time, Veer. You have fought valiantly. Let’s not hurt you anymore. The sun god is waiting to take you with him on his chariot.” He embraced Veer for one last time, and pushed the sword through his abdomen all the way to his heart, offering a prayer and sought forgiveness, as the last ray of the sun led Veer back to the abode of warriors.