SECTION 17
Vaishampayana said, "Beholding Duryodhana, Gandhari, deprived of her
senses by grief, suddenly fell down on the earth like an uprooted
plantain tree. Having regained her senses soon, she began to weep,
repeatedly uttering loud wails at the sight of her son lying on the bare
ground, covered with blood. Embracing her son, Gandhari indulged in
piteous lamentations for him. Stricken with grief, and with senses
exceedingly agitated, the Kuru queen exclaimed, Alas, O son! Alas, O son!
Burning with sorrow, the queen drenched with her tears the body of her
son, possessed of massive and broad shoulders, and adorned with garlands
and collar. Addressing Hrishikesha who stood near, she said, On the eve
of this battle, O puissant one, that has exterminated this race, this
foremost of kings, O thou of Vrishnis race, said unto me, "In this
internecine battle, O mother, wish me victory!" When he had said these
words, I myself, knowing that a great calamity had come upon us, told him
even this, tiger among men, "Thither is victory where righteousness is.
And since, son, thy heart is set on battle, thou wilt, without doubt,
obtain those regions that are attainable by (the use of) weapons (and
sport there) like a celestial." Even these were the words that I then
said unto him. I did not then grieve for my son. I grieve, however, for
the helpless Dhritarashtra bereaved of friends and kinsmen. Behold, O
Madhava, my son, that foremost of warriors, wrathful, skilled in weapons,
and irresistible in battle, sleeping on the bed of heroes. Behold the
reverses brought about by Time. This scorcher of foes that used of old to
walk at the head of all crowned persons now sleepeth on the dust. Without
doubt, the heroic Duryodhana, when he sleeps on that bed which is the
heros hath obtained the most unattainable end. Inauspicious jackals are
now delighting that prince asleep on the heros bed, who was formerly
delighted by the fairest of ladies sitting round him. He who was formerly
encircled by kings vying with one another to give him pleasure, alas, he,
slain and lying on the ground, is now encircled by vultures! He who was
formerly fanned with beautiful fans by fair ladies is now fanned by
(carnivorous) birds with flaps of their wings! Possessed of great
strength and true prowess, this mighty-armed prince, slain by Bhimasena
in battle, sleeps like an elephant slain by a lion! Behold Duryodhana, O
Krishna, lying on the bare ground, covered with blood, slain by Bhimasena
with his mace. That mighty-armed one who had in battle assembled together
eleven akshauhinis of troops, O Keshava, hath, in consequence of his own
evil policy, been now slain. Alas, there that great bowman and mighty
car-warrior sleeps, slain by Bhimasena, like a tiger slain by a lion!
Having disregarded Vidura, as also his own sire, this reckless, foolish,
and wicked prince hath succumbed to death, in consequence of his
disregard of the old. He who had ruled the earth, without a rival, for
thirteen years, alas, that prince, that son of mine, sleepeth to-day on
the bare ground, slain by his foes. Not long before, O Krishna, I beheld
the Earth, full of elephants and kine and horses, ruled by Duryodhana!
Today, O thou of mighty arms, I see her ruled by another, and destitute
of elephants and kine and horses! What need have I, O Madhava, of life?
Behold, again, this sight that is more painful than the death of my son,
the sight of these fair ladies weeping by the side of the slain heroes!
Behold, O Krishna, the mother of Lakshmana, that lady of large hips, with
her tresses dishevelled, that dear spouse of Duryodhana, resembling a
sacrificial altar of gold. Without doubt, this damsel of great
intelligence, while her mighty-armed lord was formerly alive, used to
sport within the embrace of her lords handsome arms! Why, indeed, does
not this heart of mine break into a hundred fragments at the sight of my
son and grandson slain in battle? Alas, that faultless lady now smells
(the head of) her son covered with blood. Now, again, that lady of fair
thighs is gently rubbing Duryodhanas body with her fair hand. At one time
she is sorrowing for her lord and at another for her son. At one time she
looketh on her lord, at another on her son. Behold, O Madhava, striking
her head with her hands, she falls upon the breast of her heroic spouse,
the king of the Kurus. Possessed of complexion like that of the filaments
of the lotus, she still looketh beautiful like a lotus. The unfortunate
princess now rubbeth the face of her son and now that of her lord. If the
scriptures and the shrutis be true, without doubt, this king has obtained
those regions (of blessedness) that one may win by the use of weapons!"
