तं तथा समरे राजन् विचरन्तम् अभीतवत् ॥
पाण्डवा भृशसंविग्नाः प्रापश्यंस् तत्स्य विक्रमम् ॥
तावकानां तु सैन्यानां प्रहर्षः समजायत ॥
वादित्रनिनदश् चोग्रः सुमहांल् लोमहर्षणः ॥
तं श्रुत्वा निनदं घोरं तव सैन्यस्य पाण्डवः ॥
नामृष्यत यथा नागस् तलशब्दं समीरितम् ॥
taṃ tathā samare rājan vicarantam abhītavat ||
pāṇḍavā bhṛśasaṃvignāḥ prāpaśyaṃs tatsya vikramam ||
tāvakānāṃ tu sainyānāṃ praharṣaḥ samajāyata ||
vāditraninadaś cograḥ sumahāṃl lomaharṣaṇaḥ ||
taṃ śrutvā ninadaṃ ghoraṃ tava sainyasya pāṇḍavaḥ ||
nāmṛṣyata yathā nāgas talaśabdaṃ samīritam ||
Him, O king, ranging fearlessly through the battle in this way, the Pandavas, greatly agitated, beheld his valor. And in your troops arose delight, and the fierce din of instruments, exceedingly great, that made the hair stand on end. Hearing that terrible roar of your army, the Pandava [Bhima] could not endure it — as an elephant cannot endure the resounding slap upon the bowstring.
e38899b0a4d6 · published Jul 19, 2026, 4:02:22 PM UTC
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The premature delight of the Kauravas — "praharṣaḥ… vāditraninadaḥ" — only inflames Bhima further: rejoicing over an illusory success calls forth the storm. The comparison to an elephant that cannot bear the slap of a bowstring reveals this: it is dangerous to provoke great strength. It is telling that triumph resting on delusion itself invites the answering blow. The verse teaches that rejoicing before its time is unwise and perilous: it only rouses the dormant power of the adversary, and loud joy over an unstable success often precedes one's own fall.