In that terrible confusion, at a moment of extreme dread, his brothers and sons, Dhrishtadyumna the Parshata, the sons of Draupadi, Abhimanyu, and the great chariot-warrior Shikhandin did not abandon the mighty Bhimasena when danger arose. Then Bhima, seizing a great, heavy iron mace, slew your warriors like Antaka with rod in hand. Crushing the ranks of chariots and herds of horses, mighty Bhima ranged through the battle like fire at the end of a yuga; striking down all in the fight, he was like Kala at the end of an age. The Pandava, with the force of his thighs, dragged in the tangled webs of chariots and crushed all the elephants, as an elephant breaks through reed thickets. He struck chariot-warriors down from their chariots, elephant-riders from their elephants, horsemen from the backs of horses, and foot soldiers to the ground. Everywhere, because of the men, elephants, and horses slain, that field of battle became like death’s own place of slaughter. The warriors beheld Bhimasena’s fearsome, deadly mace, like the Pinaka of wrathful Rudra striking down his victims, terrible as the rod of Yama and resounding like the thunderbolt of Indra. When the great-souled Kaunteya whirled that mace, his form became most terrible, like the form of Time at the end of the yuga.