Trishashti Shalaka Purusha Caritra

by Helen M. Johnson | 1931 | 742,503 words

This page describes Preparations of both armies for battle which is the sixth part of chapter V of the English translation of the Adisvara-caritra, contained within the “Trishashti Shalaka Purusha Caritra”: a massive Jain narrative relgious text composed by Hemacandra in the 12th century. Adisvara (or Rishabha) in jainism is the first Tirthankara (Jina) and one of the 63 illustrious beings or worthy persons.

Part 6: Preparations of both armies for battle

At dawn, the sons of Ṛṣabha invited each other like guests to a battle-festival, sending the invitations by bards. Then Bāhubali appointed as general his son Siṃharatha, devoted, approved by the kings, possessing the strength of a lion. The King himself placed a golden battle-fillet, that was like shining glory, on his head, just as on the head of the state-elephant. Delighted by the battle-instruction which he had received as if he had received the earth, he went to his own abode, after bowing to the King. After giving instructions to the other princes in regard to the battle, the King dismissed them. The master’s instructions were a favor to them, eager for battle themselves.

Bharata also, like a chief ācārya, gave Suṣeṇa battle-initiation, with the approval of the princes, kings, and vassals. Suṣeṇa received the Master’s instructions like a charm for success and went to his own house, desiring dawn like a cakravāka. When he had summoned the crowned kings and other vassals, the Lord of Bharata gave instructions for battle as follows: “O mighty men, in the battle with my younger brother, you must carefully follow General Suṣeṇa like myself. O men, many kings, insolent from their strength of arms, were made submissive by you, like vicious elephants by mahouts. After crossing the Vaitāḍhya Mountains, remember! you courageously subdued the Kirātas difficult to subdue, like the gods the demons. Alas! what if they were all conquered since no one among them resembles even the infantry of the Lord of Takṣaśilā. Soma, the eldest son of Bāhubali, alone is able to scatter soldiers like wind cotton. Siṃharatha, a great warrior, the youngest in age but not the least in power, is like a forest-fire against the enemy’s army. Moreover, each one of the others, sons, grandsons, etc., of Bāhubali, strong as an army of ten divisions, makes even Kṛtānta afraid. His vassal-kings, etc., are their equals in devotion to the master and in power, just like weights put on the scales to balance them.[1] All the soldiers in his army are as strong as the man who, alone powerful, becomes the chief in other armies. To say nothing of Bāhubali, very powerful in battle, he has a battle array very hard to break like diamond. Follow Suṣeṇa approaching him for battle, like winds from the east a cloud of the rainy season.” Their bodies increased in size from horripilation all over, as if filled inwardly with nectar-like speech of their lord. Dismissed by the King, they went home, wooing their opponents as well as the Śrīs of victory.

The best of heroes prepared for the business of battle wishing to cross the ocean of debt of favor from the two sons of Ṛṣabha. They worshipped their respective weapons—sword, bow, quiver, dub, spear, etc., like divinities. In front of the weapons the warriors played loud musical instruments, as if to supply the time for the heart dancing with eagerness. The warriors anoint themselves with new sandal-unguent, fragrant like their own spotless glory. The soldiers put decorations of musk on their foreheads, which resembled a military fillet of dark doth put on. Sleep, as if terrified, did not come to the two armies of heroes, watching their weapons and making conversation about future fighting. For the heroes of the two armies, desiring to fight at dawn, the three watches of the night passed as slowly as a hundred. Then the sun mounted the peak of the eastern mountain, as if to see the eagerness of the two sons of Ṛṣabha for the sport of battle. The loud sounds of the battle-drums of both armies arose, like the sound of the waters of the ocean when it was stirred by Mandara as a churning-stick, like that of Puṣkarāvarta clouds arising at the end of the world, like that of the mountains struck by the thunderbolt.

Then the elephants of the quarters, the flaps of their ears pricked up, trembled; the oceans were agitated by the sea-monsters wandering in fear; animals, though cruel, entered caves on all sides; great serpents disappeared from hole into hole; mountains trembled, their peaks falling down into big rocks; even the king of tortoises was terrified, contracting his feet and neck; the sky fell entirely to pieces, as it were; the earth burst, as it were, from the spreading noise of battle-drums.

Made to start by the war-drum, like a royal doorkeeper, the soldiers of both armies prepared for conflict. Some prepared again and again new chain armor which kept bursting from the body swelling from eagerness for battle. Some equipped their horses themselves from affection. For soldiers take better care of their animals than of themselves. Some, after equipping and mounting their horses, made them go to test them. If a horse is badly trained and apathetic, it is like an enemy to the rider. Some worshipped their horses like gods, if they neighed on taking their equipment. For neighing in battle is indicative of victory. Some, who received horses without equipment, laid aside their own armor. For this is the heroic custom in battle of men proud of their arms.

“You should go unstumbling in the terrible battle, like a fish in the ocean. You should show skill,” some instructed their charioteers. Some completely filled their chariots with weapons, like travelers with supplies, foreseeing a battle for a long time. Some set up flag-poles with their respective cognizances raised, like bards for announcing themselves from afar. Some yoked horses to chariots with closely joined yokes, winds to the ocean of the enemy’s army. Some gave very strong armor to charioteers. For chariots, even if they have horses, are useless without charioteers. Some adorned the elephants’ tusks, harsh from union with rows of large, iron rings, as if they were their own arms. Some put elephant-armor with wreaths of banners, like abodes of the Śrī of victory who was to come, on the elephants. Some made at once tilakas from the ichor from the bursting cheeks of the elephants, as if from musk, saying, “It is an omen.” Some mounted the elephants, unrestrainable like the mind, not enduring even the wind rich with the fragrance of the ichor of the enemy’s elephants. All had all the elephants take golden armor that was like an elegant dress for the festival of battle. The elephant-drivers had the elephants take iron hammers by the ends of their trunks as easily as blue lotuses with erect stalks. The elephant-keepers quickly put on the elephants’ tusks sharp sheaths, like tusks taken from Yama.

“Let the mules and carts filled with arrows go forward quickly, one after another. Otherwise, how will arrows be supplied to archers? Let camels laden with coats of mail go, since the armor worn in the beginning by warriors engaged in unceasing battle will break. Let other chariots prepared for the charioteers follow. For chariots are broken by a stroke of the sword like mountains by a flash of lightning. Let other horses go by hundreds behind the cavalry, so there will be no hindrance, when the first horses have become tired. Let many elephants go behind each crowned king, since their fight does not cease with one elephant. Let the buffaloes go behind the army, carrying water, living reservoirs for those burned by the hot season of exertion in battle. Let new healing herbs be carried by bags,[2] like the treasury of the Lord of Herbs (moon), like the essence of Mt. Hima.” The noise of the battle-drums increased from the confusion arising from these instructions for battle of the King’s subordinates. The universe seemed to be made of sound from the uproar arising in every direction, and to be made of iron from the weapons waved on all sides.

Bards, excited by battle, joyful as if on a festival-day, wandered unconfused to every elephant, every chariot, and every horse, recalling the adventures of men of former times, as if they had been seen at that time; praising the fruit of steadfastness in battle, like Vyāsa;[3] celebrating again and again zealously the adversaries present, to inflame the warriors, like the sage Nārada.[4]

Footnotes and references:

[1]:

Pratimāna is quoted only as ‘weight’ in the abstract, but here it must be either the weight put in one scale-pan to balance, or, perhaps, the scale itself.

[2]:

Gauṇībhī of the text must be emended to goṇībhī of the MSS. Goṇī ought to be an animal in accordance with the context. Also utpāṭ would be more appropriate in that case. Goṇī does mean ‘cow,’ but as cows are never used as beasts of burden in India, I have reluctantly translated it ‘bag.’

[3]:

The traditional compiler of the Mahābhārata.

[4]:

The Rishi who first taught music.

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