गोत्राणां नामधेयानां कुलानां चैव मारिष ॥
श्रवणाद् धि विजानीमः पाञ्चालान् कुरुभिः सह ॥
अन्योन्यं समरे योधाः शरशक्तिपरश्वधैः ॥
प्रेषयन् परलोकाय विचरन्तो ह्य् अभीतवत् ॥
शरैर् दश दिशो राजंस् तेषां मुक्तैः सहस्रशः ॥
न भ्राजन्त यथापूर्वं भास्करे ऽस्तं गते ऽपि च ॥
gotrāṇāṃ nāmadheyānāṃ kulānāṃ caiva māriṣa ||
śravaṇād dhi vijānīmaḥ pāñcālān kurubhiḥ saha ||
anyonyaṃ samare yodhāḥ śaraśaktiparaśvadhaiḥ ||
preṣayan paralokāya vicaranto hy abhītavat ||
śarair daśa diśo rājaṃs teṣāṃ muktaiḥ sahasraśaḥ ||
na bhrājanta yathāpūrvaṃ bhāskare 'staṃ gate 'pi ca ||
By hearing indeed, O venerable one, we distinguished the Panchalas and the Kurus - by the cries of clans, names, and families. Warriors sent one another to the other world in battle with arrows, shaktis, and axes, ranging fearlessly over the field. The ten directions, O king, from their arrows loosed by the thousands, did not shine as before - even when the sun had already set.
e7fc1497bcfc · published Jul 19, 2026, 4:31:38 PM UTC
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In the melee friend and foe are no longer visible - one knows them only by the cries of their clans: battle erases the face, leaving only the name. It is telling that even after sunset the arrows still darken the light of the quarters: the fighting does not cease with the dark. The verse teaches that war depersonalizes, turning men into an indistinguishable mass of strikers; and the darkness that falls upon the field does not quench the slaughter but only prepares an unprecedented horror of night combat.