Санджая
ताम् आपतन्तीं सहसा घोररूपां भयावहाम् ॥
अश्मसारमयीं गुर्वीं तपनीयविभूषिताम् ॥
शरैर् अनेकसाहस्रैर् भारद्वाजो न्यपातयत् ॥
सा पपात गदा भूमौ भारद्वाजेन सादिता ॥
रक्तमाल्याम्बरधरा तारेव नभसस् तलात् ॥
गदां विनिहतां दृष्ट्वा धृष्टकेतुर् अमर्षणः ॥
तोमरं व्यसृजत् तूर्णं शक्तिं च कनकोज्ज्वलाम् ॥
tām āpatantīṃ sahasā ghorarūpāṃ bhayāvahām ||
aśmasāramayīṃ gurvīṃ tapanīyavibhūṣitām ||
śarair anekasāhasrair bhāradvājo nyapātayat ||
sā papāta gadā bhūmau bhāradvājena sāditā ||
raktamālyāmbaradharā tāreva nabhasas talāt ||
gadāṃ vinihatāṃ dṛṣṭvā dhṛṣṭaketur amarṣaṇaḥ ||
tomaraṃ vyasṛjat tūrṇaṃ śaktiṃ ca kanakojjvalām ||
That mace, hurtling suddenly, dreadful in form, bringing terror, made of hardened iron, heavy, adorned with gold — that mace fell to the ground, brought down by the son of Bharadvaja with several thousand arrows, as though clad in red garlands and garments, like a star falling from the vault of the sky. Seeing the mace struck down, Dhrishtaketu, unyielding, swiftly hurled a dart and a spear blazing with gold.
9b0bd3ba09cd · published Jul 19, 2026, 4:17:33 PM UTC
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The felled mace falls "tāreva nabhasas talāt" — like a star from the vault of heaven: even a fearsome weapon, cast down, takes on a beauty-in-terror. It is telling that Dhrishtaketu at once takes up something new — dart, spear: the tirelessness of desperation. The verse teaches that courage does not run out with the loss of one's weapon: the noble one hurls one thing after another for as long as there is anything to hurl, for his spirit is unbroken though his hands grow empty.