An update, with Sanjaya and Dhritarastra.

We recall that this narration concerning the battle of Kurukshetra —and only the battle— is told by Sanjaya to King Dhritarastra.* For by the power of clairvoyance bestowed upon him by Vyasa, Sanjaya could recount in minute detail the unfolding of the feats of arms on the field. Thanks to this power, he went everywhere without difficulty: even into people's minds; he could know what they were thinking and what they desired. Furthermore, it was impossible to detect him, and no harm could be inflicted upon him.

* (This article was written in French in January 2014.)

But Dhritarastra did not want to hear what would distress his already suffering heart. He wanted to maintain, at all costs and against all the apocalyptic verdicts of recent days, the rightness of the idea that sending the Pandavas back into the forest was the best thing to do. He preferred to cherish the notion that his sons had won the first round, and that it was a good omen for the future.

He is, however, overcome with remorse following what he has just heard from Sanjaya's mouth and says to him: "I am happy and reassured that the son of Virata, Shveta, is dead; he can no longer harm my children. It is terrible what is happening to us here; it has cost us so many men and animals! At least we have conquered, and that is what matters. I did not expect, despite everything, that this war would resemble a great game with such unpredictable results. In fact, Gandhari had told me; she did not want this war. Moreover, on their side, the Pandavas and Krishna were sincerely ready for a compromise to avoid it. It is my idiot son who contaminated us all with his devious and unhealthy ideas. I strongly doubt now that my boys will emerge safe and sound from this fratricidal conflict.

And Sanjaya replied: "My Lord, why cast the blame on others? Why make your eldest son the scapegoat? To a broken ship, every wind is contrary. You carry upon your shoulders, within your very soul and conscience, the greatest share of this political responsibility. You are deceiving no one; all of this happened with your consent. You always had the choice to curb the enmities or to pour oil on the fire; everything has always depended on you, in the first and last instances. What is the use of building a dam on a dried-up river?! You have always asked that the naked truth not be shown to you, but rather cloaked. There comes a time, however, when it is no longer possible to turn away from reality and ignore it; life is not a plaything of our imagination as libertarians and unscrupulous people trumpet; if you live on illusions, you will die of disillusionment. Mark my words, Lord: if you truly desired it, you could stop this war right now; it is not too late, tomorrow everyone could return home. Krishna, Vidura, Bhisma, Drona, Kripacharya, and so many others would be a thousand times grateful to you for such a decision. To hell with your son! From the moment of his birth, Vidura told you to rid yourself of this monster, but you did not listen; you and the Queen decided to follow only your own whims. Lord, times have changed; the Pandavas will no longer allow their conduct to be dictated to them, and Bhima longs to settle his scores with your sons. At this very moment, he is champing at the bit, waiting to slaughter them. But how many times has this misfortune been predicted to you? Winning a battle is not winning the war, and dharma is catching up with you: it is only a matter of days or weeks before Bhima carries out his plan.

At this very moment, while sitting at the King's feet as the King is plunged in thought, Sanjaya has traveled in the blink of an eye to the enemy camp. Inside the royal tent, the leaders are consulting one another and making decisions. Yudhistira looks anxious and says nothing. Bhima paces back and forth incessantly, striking his fist into his palm every time he encounters one of his hated cousins in his imagination. Krishna is there as well, along with Arjuna and the twins; those two are stationed at the tent entrance, guarding it; no one must disturb them or overhear what is being plotted.

But Sanjaya is there, listening.

It was Yudhistira who first broke the silence:

"When the great fight, the small suffer. Krishna, did you see the ferocity with which Bhisma behaved? What have we done to him? Yet I went to see him yesterday and he told me he blessed us. Is this what he calls 'blessing'? Did you see how he cut down thousands of soldiers without showing any sign of mercy? I warn you, if we do not find a way to counter this destructive fury, he will strike down our best men one by one, just as he did with Shveta. No, I believe it is better to stop this war and spare all these lives, even if it is a bit late. Arjuna is here, of course, but his heart is not in it... Only Bhima brings me comfort; he relieves the anxiety that gnaws at me. He nearly made it impossible for Bhisma to raise a hand against us. Were it not for the fact that he is practically immortal, thanks to the gift he received from the gods —that is, to die only when he so chooses— my brother would have sent him to the other world. If Arjuna had as much zeal as he does, things would have taken a different turn. But you, Krishna, you are Yogesvara (the Master of all powers); you could, if you so desired, create on the spot a hero who would stop Bhisma from terrorizing us. Do you not see the urgency? Is it not time to decide?"

"Do not worry, my brother," Krishna replied. "And above all, fear nothing. It is normal for circumstances not to always be in our favor. One must keep in mind that losses are inevitable during conflicts of this kind, but as long as I am here, as well as your brothers, the final victory will be yours. Is it not, according to the oracle, Shikhandi who will allow us to finish with Bhisma? Cease your worrying; things will unfold, everything will happen at the right time." ■

To read the events of this first day of battle: The first day of the battle. (Sorry, the translation is not ready, yet.)