Санджая
रात्रौ वंशवनस्येव दह्यमानस्य पर्वते ॥
घोरश् चटचटाशब्दः शस्त्राणां पतताम् अभूत् ॥
नैव स्वे न परे राजन् प्राज्ञायन्त तमोवृते ॥
उन्मत्तम् इव तत् सर्वं बभूव रजनीमुखे ॥
भौमं रजो ऽथ राजेन्द्र शोणितेन प्रशामितम् ॥
शातकौम्भैश् च कवचैर् भूषणैश् च तमो ऽभ्यगात् ॥
rātrau vaṃśavanasyeva dahyamānasya parvate ||
ghoraś caṭacaṭāśabdaḥ śastrāṇāṃ patatām abhūt ||
naiva sve na pare rājan prājñāyanta tamovṛte ||
unmattam iva tat sarvaṃ babhūva rajanīmukhe ||
bhaumaṃ rajo 'tha rājendra śoṇitena praśāmitam ||
śātakaumbhaiś ca kavacair bhūṣaṇaiś ca tamo 'bhyagāt ||
At night, as of a bamboo grove burning on a mountain, a dreadful crackling arose from the falling weapons. Neither one's own men nor the enemy's, o king, could be discerned, covered in darkness; all of it became, as if gone mad, at the onset of night. The earthly dust, then, o lord of kings, was quenched by blood; and by golden armors and ornaments the darkness partly retreated.
5e537cc1f479 · published Jul 19, 2026, 4:31:38 PM UTC
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The battle in the dark has gone mad -- neither friend nor foe; only the gleam of golden armor pushes back the gloom a little. It is significant that the dust is quenched by blood: a terrible image -- one calamity extinguishing another. The verse teaches that war stripped of light and discernment turns into madness where men die blindly; and the only "light" amid the darkness of strife is the cold gleam of ornaments on bodies, which shows all the more bitterly the vanity of everything pride had prized.