ते ऽर्जुनेन शरा मुक्ताः कङ्कपत्रास् तनुच्छिदः ॥
शलभा इव संपेतुः संवृण्वाना दिशो दश ॥
तुरगं रथिनं नागं पदातिम् अपि मारिष ॥
विनिर्भिद्य क्षितिं जग्मुर् वल्मीकम् इव पन्नगाः ॥
न च द्वितीयं व्यसृजत् कुञ्जराश्वनरेषु सः ॥
पृथग् एकशरारुग्णा निपेतुस् ते गतासवः ॥
हतैर् मनुष्यैस् तुरगैश् च सर्वतः; शराभिवृष्टैर् द्विरदैश् च पातितैः ॥
तदा श्वगोमायुबडाभिनादितं; विचित्रम् आयोधशिरो बभूव ह ॥
पिता सुतं त्यजति सुहृद्वरं सुहृत्; तथैव पुत्रः पितरं शरातुरः ॥
स्वरक्षणे कृतमतयस् तदा जनास्; त्यजन्ति वाहान् अपि पार्थपीडिताः ॥
te 'rjunena śarā muktāḥ kaṅkapatrās tanucchidaḥ ||
śalabhā iva saṃpetuḥ saṃvṛṇvānā diśo daśa ||
turagaṃ rathinaṃ nāgaṃ padātim api māriṣa ||
vinirbhidya kṣitiṃ jagmur valmīkam iva pannagāḥ ||
na ca dvitīyaṃ vyasṛjat kuñjarāśvanareṣu saḥ ||
pṛthag ekaśarārugṇā nipetus te gatāsavaḥ ||
hatair manuṣyais turagaiś ca sarvataḥ; śarābhivṛṣṭair dviradaiś ca pātitaiḥ ||
tadā śvagomāyubaḍābhināditaṃ; vicitram āyodhaśiro babhūva ha ||
pitā sutaṃ tyajati suhṛdvaraṃ suhṛt; tathaiva putraḥ pitaraṃ śarāturaḥ ||
svarakṣaṇe kṛtamatayas tadā janās; tyajanti vāhān api pārthapīḍitāḥ ||
Those arrows loosed by Arjuna, feathered with heron plumes, rending flesh, swarmed like locusts, blanketing all ten directions. A horse, a chariot-warrior, an elephant, and a foot-soldier too, O worthy one -- boring through them, the arrows passed into the earth, like snakes into an anthill. And he loosed no second arrow at elephants, horses, or men: each, struck down by a single arrow, fell lifeless. With slain warriors and horses everywhere, showered with arrows, and with elephants brought down, the brow of battle then became weirdly wondrous, resounding with dogs, jackals, and crows. A father abandons his son, his dearest friend; and a friend does the same; likewise a son, wounded, abandons his father; intent only on saving themselves, people then abandon even their own mounts, harried by Partha.
181ea9e8732e · प्रकाशित 19 जुल॰ 2026, 3:11:21 pm UTC
उपलब्ध भाषाएँRUENश्लोक बदलें इन कुंजियों से
The chapter closes with an image of utter collapse: in the terror of flight "a father abandons his son, a son his father," and each thinks only of himself. This shows the last thing that war destroys -- the very bonds of love and blood: fear for one's own life overpowers even fatherhood and friendship. A field resounding with dogs and jackals, and this picture of the universal betrayal of kinship, is the bitterest outcome. It is telling that a single arrow suffices Arjuna for each man: perfection of skill is set beside perfection of ruin. The verse teaches that war at its extreme corrupts not only bodies but souls, turning those who love into those who forsake; that fear for oneself can overpower the most sacred attachments; and that the true horror of battle lies not in the heaps of dead, but in a father leaving his son behind, for what dies here is no longer merely life, but humanity itself.