ततः साभरणौ बाहू क्षुराभ्यां माधवोत्तमः ॥
साङ्गदौ जलसंधस्य चिच्छेद प्रहसन्न् इव ॥
तौ बाहू परिघप्रख्यौ पेततुर् गजसत्तमात् ॥
वसुंधरधराद् भ्रष्टौ पञ्चशीर्षाव् इवोरगौ ॥
ततः सुदंष्ट्रं सुहनु चारुकुण्डलम् उन्नसम् ॥
क्षुरेणास्य तृतीयेन शिरश् चिच्छेद सात्यकिः ॥
tataḥ sābharaṇau bāhū kṣurābhyāṃ mādhavottamaḥ ||
sāṅgadau jalasaṃdhasya ciccheda prahasann iva ||
tau bāhū parighaprakhyau petatur gajasattamāt ||
vasuṃdharadharād bhraṣṭau pañcaśīrṣāv ivoragau ||
tataḥ sudaṃṣṭraṃ suhanu cārukuṇḍalam unnasam ||
kṣureṇāsya tṛtīyena śiraś ciccheda sātyakiḥ ||
Then, with two razor-arrows, the foremost of the Madhavas severed the two arms of Jalasandha, adorned and bearing armlets, as though smiling. Those arms, like iron bars, fell from the finest of elephants, torn loose from that earth-bearing beast, like two five-headed serpents. Then, with a third razor-arrow, Satyaki severed his head — fine of tusk, fine of chin, adorned with beautiful earrings, high of nose.
4b8d99a7abfb · published Jul 19, 2026, 4:08:02 PM UTC
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Satyaki severs Jalasandha's arms and head "prahasan iva" — as though smiling: his mastery stays unshaken even in a deadly act. The falling arms, "like two five-headed serpents," are beauty within horror. It is telling that ease of motion crowns so grim a conclusion. The verse teaches that skill carried to its height acts without strain even in terrible matters: the master's calm smile amid a fearful deed shows complete command of self — yet it also reminds how fragile a splendid life is, cut short in three strokes.