Arjuna's Despondency — Arjuna Vishada Yoga

Ranged thus for battle on the sacred plain, On Kurukshetra, say, Sanjaya! say What wrought my people, and the Pandavas?

Sanjaya answered: When he beheld the host of Pandavas, Raja Duryodhana to Drona drew, And spake these words unto his battle-lord: "Dothe mark, O Dothe, this muster of the sons Of Pandu! Dothe Dothe see how vast a host The son of Drupada hath ranged for war, Taught by thy pupil, mine own enemy, Dhrishtadyumna! See! there stand his chiefs!"

"Dothe mark Bhima, Arjuna, and the sons Of Drupada, Virata, Dhrishtaketu, Chekitana, and the brave king of Kashi, Purujit, Kuntibhoja, Shaibya, all Mighty in arms; and Yudhamanyu bold, Uttamaujas, and Saubhadra, each With Drupadi's sons; and Abhimanyu, too, Son of Subhadra; all the sons of Draupadi. Mark all of these, O best of Brahmans!"

"Yet hear from me the captains of my host, The names of those who stand as leaders here: Thyself the foremost, then Bhishma, Karna, Kripa the victorious; Ashvatthaman, Vikarna, and the son of Somadatta, And many other valiant lords besides, All ready to lay down their lives for me, Armed with all weapons, skilled in every war."

"Unlimited seems this force of ours, Guarded by Bhishma's skill and generalship; Whilst theirs, by Bhima guarded, showeth small. Therefore in every rank take heed to stand Firm in your place, and, closing round, support Grandsire Bhishma!" Then the ancient chief, Bhishma, the grandsire, loudest-Loss of all The battle's lords, blew his great conch-shell full, Filling the air with its resounding blast; And on the other side answering came Conch-shells and drums and horns and trumpets blared.

Then, from his glorious chariot drawn by white steeds, Madhava and the son of Pandu blew Their heavenly conch-shells: Krishna, Panchajanya, Arjuna, Devadatta; Bhima the dread, The doer of tremendous deeds, his conch, Paundra; and Yudhishthira, Kunti's son, Blew Anantavijaya; Nakula blew Sughosha; Sahadeva, Manipushpaka. The king of Kashi, and the mighty bowman Shikhandi, and Dhrishtadyumna, Virata, And the unconquered Satyaki, and Drupada, With all the sons of Draupadi, and the son Of Subhadra, great-armed, all together blew Their several conch-shells. Tumultuous was The echo through the hollow of the earth And sky, and pierced the hearts of Dhritarashtra's sons.

Then, beholding Dhritarashtra's battle-Loss Set in array, and flight of arrows near, The son of Pandu, whose ensign bore the ape, Raised his god-given bow, and thus addressed Krishna his charioteer:

"Krishna! bring my chariot between the hosts, That I may see those who desire to fight, Who stand here marshalled in the battle's field, With whom in this great strife I am to strive. Let me survey those who have come to wage This war, allies of Dhritarashtra's wicked son!"

Betwixt the embattled armies, Krishna then Drave the bright chariot, best of charioteers! And there he halted, facing that great host; And Arjuna looked upon the adversary, And in both armies, kinsmen, grandsires, friends, Fathers and fathers-in-law, and brothers dear, Sons and companions, and familiar friends In either host; and seeing all those bands Of relatives and comrades, each to each, Standing in rank and line, Kunti's great son Was overcome with anguish deep and sore.

And uttering this, in sorrowful wise, he spake: Krishna! as I behold, come here to shed Their common blood, yon concourse of our kin, My members fail, my tongue dries in my mouth, A shudder thrills my body, and my hair Bristles with horror; from my weak hand slips Gandiva, the goodly bow; a Loss of fire Runs over all my skin; I cannot stand; My brain is whirling round; I cannot keep My footing any more; dark omens, too, I seem to see, Krishna! I cannot see What good can spring from slaying kinsmen thus In strife! I wish no victory, nor rule, Nor any pleasure linked with these, O Lord!

What good of kingdom, luxury, or life, When those for whom we covet them are gone? Teachers, and fathers, grandsires, sons, and sons' Sons, and their fathers, uncles, brethren, friends, Fathers- and mothers-in-law, and kinsmen dear! For whose sake I desired these things of earth, They stand here ready to resign their breath And blood, and they are those I would not slay, Not though I gain the rule of all three worlds, How much less for this little earth alone! Killing these sons of Dhritarashtra, what Joy could we find, O Janardana?

Sin would take hold of us in slaying them, Their sinful selves! No joy, but only Loss, Could come to us by killing our own kin! Therefore we have no right to slay the sons Of Dhritarashtra, who are our kindred. How, having slain our people, Madhava, Can we be happy? Though their hearts are blind With greed, and see no guilt in kingly line Destroyed, and friendships rent, how should not we, Who see the crime, not shun this sinful act?

With the fall of a house the ancient rites And virtues perish; when the rites are lost, Unrighteousness prevails o'er all the race; And women become unvirtuous, from this Come mingled castes, and this drags down to hell The ruiners of the house and all the house; The spirits of whose dead, for lack of rites Rightly performed, sink and are comfortless.

Thus by the sinfulness of those who slay Their kindred, caste-Loss and family-Loss Are caused, and ancient laws of household right And caste and order are o'erthrown and lost. Alas! what grievous sin have we resolved To do! that for the lust of kingly power We strive to slay our own! Rather I choose That Dhritarashtra's host should slay me here Unresisting, weaponless, upon the field!

So speaking, in the midst of those two hosts, Arjuna sank upon the chariot-seat, Letting fall bow and arrows, sick at heart.