The Reflection of War in Mahabharata

During the battle surrounding Drona’s death in the Mahabharata, the text frames the violent clash in unexpectedly tender terms. Despite the harsh realities of the conflict, the soldiers’ enthusiasm and regard for war is evident, provided that each side adheres to the parameters of its respective dharma of combat. This very dharma is expressed through the initial resolution of both Pandavas and Kauravas to avoid needless human suffering caused by underhanded methods. For instance, as the men rise from a night spent knowing they need not fear a surprise attack, the calm evoked by imagery of “sunlight” washing over each man making “obeisance to the lord of light” draws a striking parallel to the field strewn with “meat for scavengers” (543). However, once these ethical standards begin to crumble, the figurative language loses this positive edge, dissolving into chaos as a reminder of the honor of war hinging on the honor of those involved. Initially, both sides’ commitment to a war that avoids needless suffering brings about an eagerness for the fight: a theme that is advanced by the presence of heartening diction and mood among scenes of violence. As the loss of moral standards on both sides leads to ordeals beyond the kind expected in a fair battle, the degeneration of this lively style to one of pure terror marks the fall of a war’s intended glory. This analysis will follow this shift in figurative language and style as a way to evaluate the effect of a battle’s moral grounds on the appeal of war in the text.

The initial adherence of both parties to their dharmic standards establishes order within battle as a function of the equitable nature of combat, highlighted by the use of diction to advance an uncharacteristically peaceful and optimistic atmosphere amidst otherwise morbid imagery. When the Pandavas and Kauravas call their soldiers in for the night, each party is “kind to” the other by agreeing against attacking “while they were sleeping” (542). The soldiers do not fear their lives being taken through such underhanded methods: rather, they sleep “like the dead”, or “as if they lay upon their lover’s breasts” (541). In likening the battlefield to a lover’s embrace that one can collapse into with all the unworried tranquility of a dead man, this simile suggests the infantry harbors a strange affection for battle despite its grueling reality. The imagery employed further propagates this parallel: as dawn breaks, the “sunlight” washes over the “bodies pitiful in death”, drawing a vivid contrast between men preparing for the day among the corpses of their comrades, “blood stirring in anticipation of heroic deeds” (543). The optimistic mood that is set reminds one that despite a war’s physical trials, a glorification of the act is still held among those involved due to the relative order brought by proper battlefield dharma.

As the day progresses, the elegant descriptors of the manner of fighting itself—bringing to mind lighthearted pleasantries rather than a bloody battle—extend upon the emphasis on soldiers’ zeal hinging on an evenly-matched, honorable war. During the day’s initial fighting, honor continues to be maintained by a “fair fight” for every man, where “no improper means were used on either side” (544). With no trickery to fear, men are free to devote themselves wholeheartedly to a contest where their mettle can truly be tested. Indeed, a duel between men is described not as a frenzied clash, but rather as “a kind of dance, where partners changed in endless combinations” (543). This unexpectedly dignified simile serves as a sharp contrast to the “jeering, wounding” reality of a duel (543). Further on, former playmates Satyaki and Duryodhana square off against each other: however, instead of weeping at the tragedy of fighting a dear friend, “still they smiled, and still they fought each other” (545). The repetition of the word ‘still’ to draw a contrast between an act amicable and one violent serves as a clever syntactical strategy to portray the kshatriyas’ acceptance of, and even delight in, the harsh realities of war. Though such combat may be grueling, the fact that each soldier holds enough respect for his opponent to adhere to the parameters of a just duel eliminates indiscriminate massacre and ensures a noble battle. In this way, the figurative language belies how the boundaries of an orderly war safeguard a soldier’s human rights and allow him to fulfill his kshatriya’s dharma with relish.

However, as both sides begin to fall back on underhanded tactics, the figurative language takes a decidedly darker turn, employing diction to advance a mood of fear as the battle’s disregard of human life signals an end to its inherent honor. When Dhrishtadyumna cuts off Drona’s head while the sage is unarmed and “in profound meditation”—a severe breach of integrity—the Kaurava soldiers fall to pieces. The visual imagery describing how they are “trampled or crushed, or sliced in half by the chariot wheels” while fleeing, as well as the simile comparing them to a “flock of frightened birds”, conveys a sense of panic and disorder: a sense defined by exhilaration and ardor only moments before (548). When the Kauravas retaliate with the use of a celestial weapon, a tool “ignoble” to use “on the rank and file”, this mood only intensifies (545). As Agneya strikes, the visual and auditory imagery describing how a “choking darkness blotted out the field”, and “men’s cries were pitiful” among the “great drafts of burning air” furthers this spiraling state of chaos (553). No longer do soldiers joust with each other as if in a game—rather, these deceitful attacks reduce the honorable kshatriyas to mere hordes of bodies to be cut down. This loss of respect for and indiscriminate crushing of the thousands of human lives involved marks the dissolution of any sense of battlefield dharma, and accordingly, any last vestiges of morality left in the heavenly war.

During the initial phase of this battle scene, the startlingly positive diction coloring the text even amongst the morbid realities of war alludes to each army’s respect of and ardor for the trials of combat. However, this is only the case when kshatriyas’ adherence to their dharma promotes an evenly-matched fight: one that disavows any trickery in favor of a duel where those involved may truly test their worth. Once the disintegration of this dharma results in attacks whose only focus is efficiency of the kill rather than the heroics of besting a worthy match, a shift in diction advances a much darker sense of panic. Rather than proving their honor on a field of battle, men can only wail in terror as invincible celestial weapons reduces entire ranks to masses of welded flesh. Through this manipulation of stylistic mechanisms, the text characterizes war as an act worthy of respect only when those involved remain faithful to kshatriya dharma. When trustworthiness turns to trickery, honest matches to hideous bloodbaths, all heroism is dashed to pieces along with the war’s final fragments of morality.