स शूरः सत्यवाक् प्राज्ञो बलवान् सत्यविक्रमः ॥
महानुभावः कालान्ते रौद्रीं भीरुविभीषणाम् ॥
कवचोर्मिध्वजावर्तां मर्त्यकूलापहारिणीम् ॥
गजवाजिमहाग्राहाम् असिमीनां दुरासदाम् ॥
वीरास्थिशर्करां रौद्रां भेरीमुरजकच्छपाम् ॥
चर्मवर्मप्लवां घोरां केशशैवलशाड्वलाम् ॥
शरौघिणीं धनुःस्रोतां बाहुपन्नगसंकुलाम् ॥
रणभूमिवहां घोरां कुरुसृञ्जयवाहिनीम् ॥
मनुष्यशीर्षपाषाणां शक्तिमीनां गदोडुपाम् ॥
sa śūraḥ satyavāk prājño balavān satyavikramaḥ ||
mahānubhāvaḥ kālānte raudrīṃ bhīruvibhīṣaṇām ||
kavacormidhvajāvartāṃ martyakūlāpahāriṇīm ||
gajavājimahāgrāhām asimīnāṃ durāsadām ||
vīrāsthiśarkarāṃ raudrāṃ bherīmurajakacchapām ||
carmavarmaplavāṃ ghorāṃ keśaśaivalaśāḍvalām ||
śaraughiṇīṃ dhanuḥsrotāṃ bāhupannagasaṃkulām ||
raṇabhūmivahāṃ ghorāṃ kurusṛñjayavāhinīm ||
manuṣyaśīrṣapāṣāṇāṃ śaktimīnāṃ gadoḍupām ||
That hero — faithful to his word, wise, mighty, of unfeigned valor, a man of great might — [called forth], as at the end of an age, a dreadful [river], terrible to the timid: a river where armor is the waves and banners the whirlpools, sweeping away banks and men; where elephants and horses are crocodiles, and swords are fish, unapproachable; where the bones of warriors are gravel, dreadful, where kettledrums and mridangas are tortoises; where shields and armor are rafts, terrible, where hair is water-weeds and grass; bearing torrents of arrows, where bows are the very current, swarming with arms like serpents; flowing over the field of battle, a terrible river-host of Kurus and Srinjayas.
af5c12139c41 · प्रकाशित 19 जुल॰ 2026, 3:00:04 pm UTC
उपलब्ध भाषाएँRUENश्लोक बदलें इन कुंजियों से
The carnage is turned into the image of a dreadful river 'at the end of an age'—that cosmic water in which all creation drowns when the world perishes. Every implement of war becomes part of the flood: armor becomes waves, swords become fish, the bones of heroes become gravel on the bed. In this great likeness appears the thought of dissolution: war washes away all distinctions and sweeps a man off as a river sweeps a chip of wood. It is telling that valiant Drona is named here as the source of this river of death—might turned to slaughter fashions a likeness of the end of the world. The verse teaches that strife, carried to its limit, becomes akin to a universal flood in which all perish without distinction; that man with all his weapons is but flotsam in this river; and that one who sees, beneath the glitter of battle, its true course, sees that it leads into the common abyss.