BHISHMA'S FALL

                                        I. 

The vermillion orb rose to mark, 

Beginning of an end so dark––– 

Blood and tears would be shed beyond contemplation ‘Cause Ego of Men knows not subjugation. 

                                    II. 

Nocking his arrow, pulling his bowstring, 

Bhishma whispered an enchantment, his fingers loosening: Tearing through air the dart shot forth, 

Bearing its aimer’s will ––– To Yama’s abode deport ten thousand poor souls: 

Braving combat ‘neath the Pandava flagpoles. 

                                       III. 

Shikhandi took a fearless aim, 

A thousand arrows he released to maim. 

Stranger to response, stranger to pain, 

Unshaken of resolve, Bhishma rendered them vain.

Sri Krishna shook his head amused. 

Guilt-stricken eyes looked into those confused; 

Smiling, the grieving Bowman lifted his bow-----

A century of arrows thundered in a single row. Zillions of shafts poured down like rain Sullying snow-white armour with scarlet stain. 

Drona’s favoured pupil lived up to his reputation

When Bhishma’s perforated torso leaked streams of crimson. Young and old, vehicles and warriors, 

Affixed, gazed upon the best of fighters. 

                                                            

                                                            IV. 

Staggering is a prologue to swooning –––– so goes the notion.

But, Bhishma faced his adversary, steadying his motion.

Lifting his arms, knowing not when to retire, 

For one last time warriors would tremble before his ire.

                    

                                                                V. 

Averting his eyes and lowering his Gandeev, 

Savyasachi as if, awaited the descent of eve. 

Shikhandi once again launched a volley, 

As Dhananjaya’s sudden inertness proved to be folly. Student for a second time made known his preceptor; 

Cursed was the descendant’s army for the boon of an ancestor. The celibate warrior of fearsome renown, 

A Crown Prince who had renounced the crown; 

Unleashed his skill, potent:

To wipe out all life-forms without anyone to lament.

                                        VI. 

Exasperated, he turned back to spur his cousin into action and iron will;
The Eighth was desperate to terminate the Sixth’s threatening pupil.
“Behold! O Son of Kunti! the results of your hesitation; 

The army on the side of truth is on the brink of obliteration!"
Then glancing at his woe-befallen ranks,

Arjuna rekindled hope with Gandeev’s twangs.
Incessant shafts of merciless accuracy
Shook the veteran as winter does a babe of infancy.
Locking his eyes with Dhrupad’s offspring, 

While his pursed lips gave way to smiling,
The white-haired one then cerebrated: 

‘Shikandi’s aim is not such sure fated. 

Eclipsed by the resurrected Amba’s frame,
Stands my beloved grandson –– Arjuna by name.’ Surrendering to Divine Will, he thus meditated; 

“Sri Hari! Sri Hari!” his orison reverberated. 

VII. 

Impaling his granduncle’s every pore, 

Partha rendered dysfunctional the warrior of yore.

The very arms that had in battle dammed the Kshatriya-scourge,
Now rested, outdoing their share, lulled by locomotion-purge. Darts protruding from every inch of a frame exceedingly pious,

Deep wounds marked by arrows exponentially vigorous.

As he swayed for longer than a moment, 

Bhishma’s age signalled its maiden relent.
VIII. 

Trembling arms and quivering lips stalled
to answer; as rare opportunity called:- 

Steeling himself Arjuna invoked every Celestial
While in Justice’s Court, Destiny stood trial.

He let his arrow fly–––– 

As He stood still who forever passes by.

Burying itself in Devavrata’s wide chest with brutal force,
The ace archer’s shaft stemmed the Armageddon’s ongoing course.
Shantanu and Ganga’s youngest had forever deserted his chariot. 

Helpless eponymous ancestors mourned the falling patriot.
IX. 

Thoughts and actions were laid to rest 

From North and South and East and West, 

Halted every deity and warrior ––– 

To witness Death’s defiance occur. 

X. 

Meticulously pierced by arrows without dearth
An immortal fame refusing the mortal earth. 

Such was the fruit of the Fierce One’s vow, 

The entire universe led by Sri Hari did bow
at his feet. So fell the Lunar Dynasty’s best; 

Bereft of sun as would be the welkin’s unrest, 

Such were descendants of Bharat the Victorious
As their Eldest for his promise’s sake remained conscious.
Lachrymose eyes and folded hands they stood with
as sole witnesses of Legend passing into Myth.