How is it, then, that this very heart of yours, O scourge of foes, now heeds the counsels of peace? Alas, when fear enters your heart, O Bhima, it is certain that the hearts of all who desire war grow troubled once war truly becomes inevitable. Whether asleep or awake, O son of Pritha, you behold ill omens. Perhaps it is for this that you desire peace. Alas, like a eunuch, you show no sign of manliness in yourself. Panic has seized you, and your heart is troubled by it. Your heart trembles, your mind is overcome with despair, your thighs shake, and it is for this that you desire peace. The hearts of mortals, O Partha, are surely as fickle as the pods of the Salmali tree's seed, at the mercy of the wind. Such a state of your mind is as strange as articulate speech in animals. Indeed, the hearts of your brothers are about to sink in an ocean of despair, like swimmers at sea without a raft to save them.