ततो ऽहं ताम् इषुभिर् दीप्यमानैः; समायान्तीम् अन्तकालार्कदीप्ताम् ॥
छित्त्वा त्रिधा पातयाम् आस भूमौ; ततो ववौ पवनः पुण्यगन्धिः ॥
तस्यां छिन्नायां क्रोधदीप्तो ऽथ रामः; शक्तीर् घोराः प्राहिणोद् द्वादशान्याः ॥
तासां रूपं भारत नोत शक्यं; तेजस्वित्वाल् लाघवाच् चैव वक्तुम् ॥
किं त्व् एवाहं विह्वलः संप्रदृश्य; दिग्भ्यः सर्वास् ता महोल्का इवाग्नेः ॥
नानारूपास् तेजसोग्रेण दीप्ता; यथादित्या द्वादश लोकसंक्षये ॥
ततो जालं बाणमयं विवृत्य; संदृश्य भित्त्वा शरजालेन राजन् ॥
द्वादशेषून् प्राहिणवं रणे ऽहं; ततः शक्तीर् व्यधमं घोररूपाः ॥
ततो ऽपरा जामदग्न्यो महात्मा; शक्तीर् घोराः प्राक्षिपद् धेमदण्डाः ॥
विचित्रिताः काञ्चनपट्टनद्धा; यथा महोल्का ज्वलितास् तथा ताः ॥
tato 'haṃ tām iṣubhir dīpyamānaiḥ; samāyāntīm antakālārkadīptām ||
chittvā tridhā pātayām āsa bhūmau; tato vavau pavanaḥ puṇyagandhiḥ ||
tasyāṃ chinnāyāṃ krodhadīpto 'tha rāmaḥ; śaktīr ghorāḥ prāhiṇod dvādaśānyāḥ ||
tāsāṃ rūpaṃ bhārata nota śakyaṃ; tejasvitvāl lāghavāc caiva vaktum ||
kiṃ tv evāhaṃ vihvalaḥ saṃpradṛśya; digbhyaḥ sarvās tā maholkā ivāgneḥ ||
nānārūpās tejasogreṇa dīptā; yathādityā dvādaśa lokasaṃkṣaye ||
tato jālaṃ bāṇamayaṃ vivṛtya; saṃdṛśya bhittvā śarajālena rājan ||
dvādaśeṣūn prāhiṇavaṃ raṇe 'haṃ; tataḥ śaktīr vyadhamaṃ ghorarūpāḥ ||
tato 'parā jāmadagnyo mahātmā; śaktīr ghorāḥ prākṣipad dhemadaṇḍāḥ ||
vicitritāḥ kāñcanapaṭṭanaddhā; yathā maholkā jvalitās tathā tāḥ ||
Then with blazing arrows I cut into three that spear which was bearing down on me, shining like the sun at the end of time, and felled it to the ground. After that a sacredly fragrant wind began to blow. When it had been cut down, Rama, inflamed with anger, sent forth twelve more dreadful spears. Their appearance, O Bharata, cannot be described, so great was their radiance and swiftness. I could only watch, bewildered, as they came flying from every quarter, like great fiery meteors, of varied forms and blazing with fierce splendor, like twelve suns at the destruction of the world. Then, spreading out a net of arrows and piercing through it with another net of arrows, O king, I loosed twelve arrows in the battle and shattered those dreadful spears. After that the great-souled Jamadagnya hurled yet other terrible spears with golden shafts, variegatedly adorned and bound with golden plates; they were like blazing, mighty meteors.
46c7aca1d2b4 · publicado 17 jul 2026, 6:42:04 UTC
Disponible enRUENPasa de verso en verso con
In this chapter the duel between Bhishma and Rama reaches its highest intensity: ordinary arrows give way to divine astras, spears, images of fire, and cosmic comparisons. The text stresses not only the warriors' strength but its price: both are ready to give up their lives, both bleed, and even the weapons of teacher and pupil become almost a natural cataclysm. Bhishma acts decisively, yet he calls Rama his teacher; so the victory here cannot be a simple joy. The battle again breaks off at sunset, a reminder that dharma sets a limit even where fury and a vow drive the fighters further.