The field of Kuru

Tell me, Sanjaya—assembled on the field of dharma, the field of Kuru, eager to fight, what did my men and the Pandavas do?

But then King Duryodhana, having seen the Pandava army arrayed for battle, approached his teacher Drona and spoke these words:

"Look, Teacher, at this great army of the sons of Pandu, arrayed by your own gifted pupil, the son of Drupada."

"Here are heroes, great archers, equal in battle to Bhima and Arjuna—Yuyudhana, Virata, and Drupada, mighty warriors; Dhrishtaketu, Chekitana, and the valiant king of Kashi; Purujit, Kuntibhoja, and Shaibya, the finest of men; the powerful Yudhamanyu and the brave Uttamaujas; the son of Subhadra, and the sons of Draupadi—all of them great warriors."

"And hear too, best of the twice-born, the names of those distinguished among us, the leaders of my army—these I name for you to know."

"You yourself, and Bhishma, and Karna, and Kripa, victorious in war; Ashvatthama, Vikarna, and the son of Somadatta as well."

"And many other heroes too, skilled in battle, armed with many kinds of weapons, all ready to give up their lives for my sake."

"This army of ours, protected by Bhishma, is not sufficient, while that army of theirs, protected by Bhima, is sufficient."

"So all of you, stationed in your proper places at every entrance of the array, guard Bhishma alone."

To cheer Duryodhana, that powerful elder of the Kurus, Bhishma the grandsire, roared aloud like a lion and blew his conch.

Then conches and kettledrums, cymbals, drums, and horns suddenly blared out together from the Kaurava side, and the sound was tremendous.

Then, standing in their great chariot yoked to white horses, Madhava and the son of Pandu blew their divine conches.

Hrishikesha blew the Panchajanya, Dhananjaya the Devadatta, and Vrikodara, of terrible deeds, blew his great conch Paundra.

King Yudhishthira, son of Kunti, blew the Anantavijaya, and Nakula and Sahadeva blew the Sughosha and the Manipushpaka.

The king of Kashi, a supreme archer, and Shikhandi, the great warrior, Dhrishtadyumna, Virata, and the unconquered Satyaki;

Drupada, and the sons of Draupadi, lord of the earth, and the mighty-armed son of Subhadra—all of them blew their conches, each his own.

The tumultuous sound, echoing through heaven and earth, tore at the hearts of Dhritarashtra's men.

Then, lord of the earth, seeing Dhritarashtra's men arrayed and the flight of weapons about to begin, the son of Pandu, whose banner bore the monkey, raised his bow and spoke these words to Krishna:

Place my chariot between the two armies, Achyuta, so that I can see those standing here ready for war and know whom I must fight as the battle begins.

"I want to see those gathered here to fight, who intend to please the evil-minded son of Dhritarashtra by taking up arms."

Addressed thus by Gudakesha, Hrishikesha, O Bharata, drove that finest of chariots between the two armies, facing Bhishma, Drona, and all the rulers of the earth, and said, "Look, Partha, at these Kurus gathered together."

There Partha saw, standing in both armies, fathers, grandfathers, teachers, uncles, brothers, sons, grandsons, and friends,

fathers-in-law and companions too, in both armies. Seeing all these kinsmen standing arrayed, the son of Kunti spoke, overcome with deep pity, in sorrow:

Seeing these, my own people, Krishna, standing here eager to fight, my limbs give way and my mouth goes dry. A tremor runs through my body, and my hair stands on end.

The bow Gandiva slips from my hand, my skin is burning all over, I can't stand steady, and my mind seems to be spinning.

And I see omens that bode ill, Keshava. I see no good that can come from killing my own people in battle.

I have no desire for victory, Krishna, nor kingdom, nor pleasures. What use is a kingdom to us, Govinda, or enjoyment, or even life itself? Those for whose sake we might want kingdom, enjoyment, and pleasure stand here in battle, having given up their lives and their wealth—teachers, fathers, sons, and grandfathers too, uncles, fathers-in-law, grandsons, brothers-in-law, and other kin.

I have no wish to kill them, killer of Madhu, even if they kill me—not even for kingship over the three worlds, much less for the earth.

What joy would we get, Janardana, from killing these sons of Dhritarashtra? Only sin would come to us from killing these men, armed as they are against us.

So we shouldn't kill our own kinsmen, the sons of Dhritarashtra. How could we be happy, Madhava, after killing our own people?

Even if they, their minds overtaken by greed, see no wrong in destroying a family, no sin in betraying friends, why should we not know enough to turn away from this evil, Janardana, we who see clearly the wrong in destroying a family?

When a family is destroyed, its ancient sacred customs perish; when dharma is lost, lawlessness overtakes the whole family.

When lawlessness prevails, Krishna, the women of the family become corrupted; and when women are corrupted, Varshneya, confusion of castes is born.

Such confusion drags down both the destroyers of the family and the family itself into hell; deprived of rice-ball and water offerings, their ancestors fall.

By these wrongs of the destroyers of the family, which bring about the mixing of castes, the eternal sacred customs of caste and family are destroyed.

We have heard, Janardana, that men whose family customs are destroyed are doomed to dwell in hell.

Alas, we've resolved to commit a great sin, ready to kill our own kinsmen out of greed for the pleasures of a kingdom!

It would be better for me if the sons of Dhritarashtra, weapons in hand, killed me in battle, unarmed and unresisting.

Having spoken thus on the battlefield, Arjuna sank down onto the seat of his chariot, letting go his bow and arrows, his mind overwhelmed with grief.