Samjaya Character Analysis

The hero who had laid waste the entire Kuru army, like an elephant in a lotus pond, now lay resplendent in death, like a wild elephant slain by hunters.

And he performed this last find and astonishing foe-slaying feat: at the time he was pierced in the heart by the Spear, he appeared, O king, huge as a cloud, or a mountain; then that Rakshasa prince fell headlong to earth from on high, body torn, limbs stilled, lifeless and speechless, but gigantic in form. Bhima’s son Ghatotkaca, doer of fearful deeds, fell with the terrifying, fearful form he had assumed; and thus even in death he smashed on whole section of your army, bringing terror to the Kauravas.

‘Karna, if you challenge Arjuna to battle, you are a hare challenging a mighty elephant with tusks like plough-shafts, its temporal glands bursting with rut. If you want to fight the son of Kunti, you are a silly child poking with a stick a deadly poisonous king cobra in its hole, its hood expanded.’

The glorious standard of Karna the mighty chariot-fighter was now destroyed by the noble wearer of the diadem with a razor-edged, gold-shafted arrow that he shot with the greatest of care; and with the fall of that standard there fell too the Kurus’ fame and dharma, and their hopes of victory, sir, and all that they held dear, and their very hearts.

Bhima of fearful deeds brought down that club with an impact like that of a thunderbolt, and it smashed Duryodhana’s two handsome thighs.

Seeing these most wonderful happenings, and the honour paid to Duryodhana, the Pandavas felt ashamed; they grieved mightily to hear it said that Bhishma, Drona, Karna, and Buriśravas had been killed unfairly. But Krishna, seeing them anxious and downcast, proclaimed in a voice sounding like thunder or drums, ‘Duryodhana here with his swift weapons, and those other valiant chariot-fighters, could not have been slain by you on the battlefield in a fair fight. That is why I devised these stratagems, lords of men—otherwise the victory of the Pandavas could never have happened.’

Drona’s son Aśvatthaman watched that owl carry out its guileful attack at night. The bird’s behaviour filled him with new resolve, and he said to himself, ‘This bird has given me good advice in warfare!’

‘Here is the jewel, and here am I.’

The hero who had laid waste the entire Kuru army, like an elephant in a lotus pond, now lay resplendent in death, like a wild elephant slain by hunters.

And he performed this last find and astonishing foe-slaying feat: at the time he was pierced in the heart by the Spear, he appeared, O king, huge as a cloud, or a mountain; then that Rakshasa prince fell headlong to earth from on high, body torn, limbs stilled, lifeless and speechless, but gigantic in form. Bhima’s son Ghatotkaca, doer of fearful deeds, fell with the terrifying, fearful form he had assumed; and thus even in death he smashed on whole section of your army, bringing terror to the Kauravas.

‘Karna, if you challenge Arjuna to battle, you are a hare challenging a mighty elephant with tusks like plough-shafts, its temporal glands bursting with rut. If you want to fight the son of Kunti, you are a silly child poking with a stick a deadly poisonous king cobra in its hole, its hood expanded.’

The glorious standard of Karna the mighty chariot-fighter was now destroyed by the noble wearer of the diadem with a razor-edged, gold-shafted arrow that he shot with the greatest of care; and with the fall of that standard there fell too the Kurus’ fame and dharma, and their hopes of victory, sir, and all that they held dear, and their very hearts.

Bhima of fearful deeds brought down that club with an impact like that of a thunderbolt, and it smashed Duryodhana’s two handsome thighs.

Seeing these most wonderful happenings, and the honour paid to Duryodhana, the Pandavas felt ashamed; they grieved mightily to hear it said that Bhishma, Drona, Karna, and Buriśravas had been killed unfairly. But Krishna, seeing them anxious and downcast, proclaimed in a voice sounding like thunder or drums, ‘Duryodhana here with his swift weapons, and those other valiant chariot-fighters, could not have been slain by you on the battlefield in a fair fight. That is why I devised these stratagems, lords of men—otherwise the victory of the Pandavas could never have happened.’

Drona’s son Aśvatthaman watched that owl carry out its guileful attack at night. The bird’s behaviour filled him with new resolve, and he said to himself, ‘This bird has given me good advice in warfare!’

‘Here is the jewel, and here am I.’