Part 13: Battle between Puruṣottama and Madhu

Thus addressed by Puruṣottama, he went away angry and related the whole speech, though hard to tell, to Madhu. Madhu was enraged just from hearing Śārṅgin’s speech, like a śarabha by thunder. He had the battle-drum beaten which had a terrifying sound, heard by the Khecarīs who had covered their ears from fear. Surrounded by crowned kings, by very strong warriors, by generals, ministers, and other vassals, by soldiers bold in battle like other forms of himself, he set out like a god with a magic form. He disregarded evil omens and bad signs, proud of his arm, and went quickly to the boundary, as if drawn by the snares of death. Like Yama^[1] Śārṅgin came there at that time, attended by Soma, Suprabha, generals, and soldiers. Soldiers of both sides quickly approached the camels, impetuously took their armor, and twanged their bows. Suddenly a multitude (of arrows) flew up, causing destruction like a family of Rakṣases in the sky, eager to drink blood.

The best elephants, urged by their drivers, retreating and advancing, fought with a four-tusk fight. In one bucket a lance, in the other a hammer, carrying swords in their hands, the cavalry hurried their horses. The chariots came together, like the separate hanks of the Sindhu, deafening the world by a terrible noise. The infantry, powerful heroes, made their shields clash, striking against each other, and fought sword against sword. Instantly Viṣṇu’s army was broken by Madhu’s, like a tree-trunk by a cruel calamitous wind. Then the charioteer Hari, accompanied by the charioteer Balabhadra, blew Pāñcajanya like an unfavorable portent for enemies. At Pāñcajanya’s sound, some of Madhu’s soldiers trembled, some were dazed, and others fell to the ground.

When he saw his army thus distracted, Madhu himself, twanging his bow, challenged Puruṣottama clearly. Speedily stringing his bow, Śārṅgin made it sound, which made heaven and earth sound, as it were, by the very loud echo. Repeatedly drawing sharp arrows from the quiver, like snake-charmers drawing snakes, they hurled them at each other to kill. Skilled in the art of destruction, they both destroyed each other’s arrows, like the life of the Lakṣmī of victory, with arrows. In the same way other missiles were cut by other missiles mutually, like cutting a string. For such is a battle of persons equally strong. Angered by their mutual equality, wishing to show a difference, Madhu thought of his cakra and it fell into his hand. Though wishing to kill, Madhu said with trembling lips, “Go! Go, Sir! Do you from ignorance wish to look at the teeth of a tigress? What credit, pray, would it to be to my power for you, a boy, to be destroyed? Is there any embellishment of the power of a choice elephant in rooting up a plantain tree? I, considering myself a distinguished soldier, am older than you. You are very small compared with me, like an elephant, though a large one, compared with a mountain.”

Hari replied with a beaming smile to Pratihari: “The sun, though new, drives away dense darkness. Fire, though only a spark, burns straw completely. Glory is the standard of heroes. What has age to do with glory? Enough of hesitation. Hurl your cakra fearlessly. A serpent will become quiet, when it has discharged poison, but not otherwise.”

Madhu made the cakra into a ring on his finger with ease and whirled it, like a boy whirling a fire-brand. Madhu hurled the cakra and it fell, kissing Śārṅgin’s breast with a blow from the tip of the hub which had a brilliant light. Dazed by the blow, Viṣṇu fell on the chariot and was taken on his lap by Balabhadra who jumped up. Keśava regained consciousness from contact with his brother’s body, like a bath of nectar, and took up Madhu’s cakra as well as his breath.

Then Śārṅgadhara said: “Do not stay here like me. Go! Go quickly! What rivalry has a dog with a lion?” Madhu said, "Throw the cakra, you there! Why do you boast, roaring like an autumn-cloud?” Janārdana threw his (Madhu’s) cakra after he had spoken so and made his head fall on the ground like the fruit of a palm tree. Śārṅgin was praised by the gods raining flowers, saying, “Well done! Well done!” Madhu was grieved over by his people, saying, “Oh, lord, lord, where are you?”

The distinguished soldier, Kaiṭabha, was killed by Keśava’s general and at once Śrīpati (Puruṣottama) was resorted to by Madhu’s other kings.

Footnotes and references:

[1]:

Pārāpatapaṇin. This is a surmise, as I can find no other occurrence of the word. The dove is a messenger of Nirṛti or Yama in the Vedas (Crooke, p. 373 and Macdonell-Keith 1. 137). I believe that is the point here. However, Muni Jayantavijayaji thinks the word means ‘hawk,’ which would be logical for the compound; but I think a comparison with Death is better here.