ततो युधिष्ठिरः क्षिप्रं कितवो राजसत्तमः ॥
अपायाज् जवनैर् अश्वैः पाञ्चाल्यो द्रोणम् अभ्ययात् ॥
तं द्रोणः सधनुष्कं तु साश्वयन्तारम् अक्षिणोत् ॥
स हतः प्रापतद् भूमौ रथाज् ज्योतिर् इवाम्बरात् ॥
तस्मिन् हते राजपुत्रे पाञ्चालानां यशस्करे ॥
हत द्रोणं हत द्रोणम् इत्य् आसीत् तुमुलं महत् ॥
tato yudhiṣṭhiraḥ kṣipraṃ kitavo rājasattamaḥ ||
apāyāj javanair aśvaiḥ pāñcālyo droṇam abhyayāt ||
taṃ droṇaḥ sadhanuṣkaṃ tu sāśvayantāram akṣiṇot ||
sa hataḥ prāpatad bhūmau rathāj jyotir ivāmbarāt ||
tasmin hate rājaputre pāñcālānāṃ yaśaskare ||
hata droṇaṃ hata droṇam ity āsīt tumulaṃ mahat ||
Then Yudhishthira, best of kings, once a gambler at dice, hastily retreated on swift horses; and the Panchala prince advanced against Drona. Him, together with his bow, horses, and charioteer, Drona struck down; and he, slain, fell from his chariot to the ground, like a star from the sky. When that prince, the glory of the Panchalas, had fallen, a mighty tumult arose: "Slay Drona! Slay Drona!"
70f07913e22b · publicado 19 jul 2026, 15:00:04 UTC
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The tradition calls Yudhishthira here 'once a gambler at dice' -- a bitter reminder of how all this misfortune began: with a loss at the game of dice, the repetition of which Drona now presses toward. The fall of the prince, the 'glory of the Panchalas,' is likened to a star torn from the sky -- the death of something bright and lofty. And the cry 'Slay Drona! Slay Drona!' shows how resolve is born from despair: driven back, having lost their best, they turn their very fear into a battle cry. The verse teaches that past weakness echoes in present calamity -- what was once lost at the gaming table must now be redeemed in blood; that the death of the worthiest is bitter, like the fall of a star; and that there is a limit beyond which despair ceases to be weakness and becomes that fierce resolve which turns the hunted to face their terror.