Bhishma Parva

With both armies finally standing arrayed on the field of Kurukshetra, the blind King Dhritarashtra, sitting in his palace at Hastinapur, asked his charioteer Sanjaya, with exceedingly deep anxiety and eagerness, what his sons and Pandu's sons had done, having gathered for battle on the sacred field of Kurukshetra.

To enable him to directly witness and narrate this exceedingly important, historic moment, Maharishi Vedavyasa himself, through his extraordinary yogic power, bestowed upon Sanjaya a divine sight, through which he could directly see and hear every event unfolding on the field of Kurukshetra, even while sitting in Hastinapur.

Vyasa also offered Dhritarashtra that, if he himself wished to witness this terrible, heart-rending war directly, he too could be granted such divine sight — but Dhritarashtra, to spare himself the unbearable pain of directly watching the destruction of his own sons, humbly declined this offer, and decided instead to hear this entire tale through Sanjaya alone.

Thus Sanjaya, with this extraordinary divine sight, though remaining in Hastinapur, became fully prepared to narrate to Dhritarashtra, in exceedingly detailed and vivid terms, every event, every dialogue, and every warrior's valor from the eighteen days of this terrible great war to unfold on the field of Kurukshetra.

This divine arrangement is itself a profound symbol of the truth that the events of truth and dharma, however far away they may occur, always reach those who wish to know and understand them with a sincere heart, and who have the courage to face reality, even from a distance, rather than fear or flight.

Sanjaya gave Dhritarashtra a vivid description of that vast field of Kurukshetra, where the two great armies stood arrayed facing each other, with their banners, chariots, royal elephants, and cavalry — this combined army of eighteen akshauhinis was so vast that the gleam of its weapons made even the light of the sun seem dim.

Duryodhana, surveying his vast army, proudly mentioned before his guru Dronacharya the principal warriors of his army — Bhishma, Karna, Kripacharya, Ashwatthama, and countless other great warriors — expressing his belief that this vast army of his, under Bhishma's leadership, would surely be victorious.

At this very moment, the elderly Grandsire Bhishma, to raise the morale of the Kaurava army, sounded his great conch, after which all the conches, drums, and kettledrums of the entire Kaurava side sounded together, whose terrible sound made the entire sky and earth tremble.

From the Pandava side, Lord Krishna himself sounded his conch Panchajanya, Arjuna his Devadatta, Bhimasena his Paundra, Yudhishthira his Anantavijaya, Nakula his Sughosha, and Sahadeva his Manipushpaka — this combined sound made even the hearts of the Kaurava army tremble for a moment.

Thus, with this terrible, sky-splitting sound of conches from both sides, that eighteen-day great war — the most terrible, most decisive war in the history of the world — formally began. This sound was itself a declaration that no peaceful path remained now, and that war alone would be the final arbiter of this dispute.

Just before the war began, Arjuna requested Krishna to drive his chariot between the two armies, so that he could see which warriors he had to fight against. Krishna, with great ease, honoring this request of his beloved friend and pupil, positioned the chariot right in the middle of the two armies.

When Arjuna saw before him his own grandsire Bhishma, his guru Dronacharya, his uncles, brothers, and many close friends and relatives, armed and standing ready to fight against him, his heart was suddenly filled with deep compassion, attachment, and unbearable anguish.

Arjuna's hands began to tremble, his Gandiva bow began to slip from his hands, and he asked Krishna this profound, heart-rending question — whether a kingdom and victory won by ending the lives of one's own kinsmen, gurus, and relatives could truly be justified at any price. He began expressing his wish to withdraw entirely from this war, and even to cast aside his weapons and beg for alms.

This deep despondency, arising in the heart of a warrior as extraordinary and invincible as Arjuna, was in truth itself a symbol of that eternal, profound conflict of humanity that runs constantly between duty and affection, dharma and attachment. This moment became one of the deepest, most universal spiritual crises in history.

Arjuna, setting his bow down in the chariot, sank into deep grief and confusion, and sat down at the back of the chariot, declaring that he would not fight in this war. It was this very moment that inspired Lord Krishna himself to begin that extraordinary, immortal teaching that would go on to become forever immortal throughout the world as the "Shrimad Bhagavad Gita."

Krishna, seeing Arjuna's deep attachment and despondency, first explained to him, in exceedingly affectionate but firm words, that this momentary weakness was entirely improper for a Kshatriya warrior, and was entirely contrary to his true valor and sense of duty.

He gave Arjuna the profound knowledge of the soul's eternal, indestructible nature, explaining that the soul is never born and never dies; it is ageless and immortal, and just as a man discards old garments and puts on new ones, so too does the soul discard one body and take up another. Grieving over the destruction of anyone's body is, therefore, truly the result of ignorance.

Krishna also made clear that Arjuna was a Kshatriya, and fighting in a righteous war was his natural, unavoidable duty — if he turned away from this duty, it would not only be a violation of his own dharma, but would also make him an object of disgrace and cowardice throughout the world.

He also established the profound principle that happiness and sorrow, victory and defeat, gain and loss — all these dualities are temporary and fleeting, and a wise person should remain equanimous toward all of them, performing only his duty — this very equanimity is the fundamental foundation of Sankhya Yoga, the path of knowledge.

Through this initial, profound teaching, Krishna established in Arjuna's mind that necessary intellectual and spiritual foundation upon which, in the chapters to come, he would go on to build in detail other profound, practical principles such as Karma Yoga, Dhyana Yoga, and Bhakti Yoga.

Krishna went on to explain to Arjuna that extraordinary, practical principle of "Karma Yoga," which would later become a foundational pillar of the whole of Indian philosophy — that a man must certainly perform his prescribed duties, but should hold no attachment whatsoever to the fruit of his actions.

He gave the profound aphorism, "Karmanyevadhikaraste ma phaleshu kadachana" — meaning, man's right is only to perform action, never to its fruit — and that a person who, freed from attachment to the fruit, performs action purely out of a sense of duty, is the truly wise yogi and the truly renounced one, however active and busy that action may appear.

Krishna also explained that complete inaction can never be the true path of renunciation, for, subject to the qualities of nature, no being can remain without action even for a moment — so true renunciation lies not in fleeing from action, but in performing action with a desireless, selfless spirit.

He also expanded upon the profound concept of yajna (sacrifice), explaining that the entire creation is sustained through this cycle of sacrifice, and a person who acts only for his own selfish interest violates this universal cycle, while one who acts selflessly, for the welfare of all, advances this very cycle of sacrifice.

This teaching gave Arjuna the profound clarity that fighting in war, if done in accordance with his duty, without any personal hatred or greed, purely to protect dharma, is never a sin, but a sacred, unavoidable duty.

Krishna went on to present to Arjuna a profound discourse on Jnana Yoga, explaining that true knowledge is that which enables a person to clearly recognize the fundamental distinction between the soul and material nature, and that one who fully understands this distinction is automatically freed from all the bonds of the world.

He also explained the detailed method of Dhyana Yoga — sitting in a solitary place, in a steady posture, withdrawing the mind from the objects of the senses, and becoming absorbed with single-pointed focus in the Supreme Being. This practice, though exceedingly difficult, is an exceedingly effective path to self-realization.

In the midst of this teaching, Arjuna asked the profound question — that if the mind is so restless and unsteady that controlling it, like the wind, seems impossible, how can an ordinary person master this path of meditation? Krishna answered that through continuous practice and detachment, even this restless mind can gradually be brought under control.

He also made clear that a seeker who, while walking this path, dies before attaining perfection, does not go to waste, but rather obtains, in his next birth, the rare opportunity to resume that very practice from that same point, which gradually leads him toward complete perfection.

Thus, through these profound paths of knowledge and meditation, Krishna presented before Arjuna a comprehensive, multifaceted system of self-realization, making clear that each person, according to his own nature and capacity, can choose any of these paths and ultimately reach that same, one supreme truth.

Krishna went on to describe to Arjuna his divine vibhutis — that is, those particular, supreme manifestations in which he especially reveals his supreme power, explaining that in every excellent, extraordinary thing or person in the world, he himself is present in some particular form.

He said that among the Adityas he is Vishnu, among the stars the moon, among the Vedas the Samaveda, among the gods Indra, among the mountains the Himalaya, among the rivers the Ganga, and among the sages Bhrigu and Vyasa. Thus, through countless examples, he made clear that every excellence in the entire creation is, in truth, but a glimpse of himself alone.

Arjuna, hearing of these extraordinary glories, overwhelmed with deep astonishment and devotion, requested Krishna to show him that true, complete, universal form of his in which he holds all these glories and the entire creation — a request that set the backdrop for the most divine, supreme vision of this entire epic.

Krishna, pleased by Arjuna's deep devotion and curiosity, acknowledging that seeing this universal form with ordinary human eyes was impossible, promised to grant Arjuna a special, divine sight through which he could bear and experience this extraordinary, divine vision.

This moment was to become the most dramatic, supreme point of the entire teaching of the Gita, in which the Lord was about to reveal to his most beloved devotee and friend, at his own request, that complete, boundless, cosmic form of his, which even the ordinary human intellect could not conceive of.

Krishna granted Arjuna divine sight, and at that very instant, on that field of Kurukshetra, right between the two armies, revealed that extraordinary, unimaginable universal form of his, in which countless faces, countless eyes, countless arms, and countless divine weapons and ornaments became visible all at once — this form held within itself the entire sky and earth.

Arjuna beheld, within this universal form, all the gods, sages, serpents, and the entire moving and unmoving creation gathered together at once. He also saw that all the Kaurava warriors present on the battlefield — including Bhishma, Drona, Karna, and Duryodhana — were themselves entering the terrible mouths of this universal form, rushing swiftly toward their unavoidable destruction.

This sight was so terrible, so unimaginable, that Arjuna's heart trembled with fear and astonishment. With trembling hands folded, he offered profound praise to this universal form, and, frightened, began begging Krishna's forgiveness for having, until now, regarded him merely as an ordinary friend and companion, and sometimes treated him informally.

Krishna explained to Arjuna that this vast, terrible form was Time (Kala) itself, which had appeared here only to bring about the pre-ordained destruction of all the warriors present on this battlefield, and that Arjuna was to act merely as an instrument, a mere means, of this pre-ordained destiny — the true agent of this destruction was he himself, the Lord.

Arjuna, deeply transformed by this extraordinary vision, and at Krishna's compassionate request, asked him to resume his gentle, four-armed form, so that his fear could be calmed. This extraordinary vision forever dispelled Arjuna's last remaining doubts and attachment regarding the war.

Returning from his universal form to his beloved, gentle four-armed form, Krishna explained to Arjuna that profound, universally accessible path of Bhakti Yoga, making clear that the devotee who keeps his entire mind fixed on him alone, and worships him with exclusive, guileless devotion, is most dear to him.

He also explained to Arjuna in detail the profound distinction between the Kshetra (the body) and the Kshetrajna (the soul), and gave a detailed description of the path to attaining the state beyond the three qualities of nature — sattva, rajas, and tamas — by being freed from their influence.

In the final chapters of the Gita, Krishna made clear the distinction between the divine and demonic natures, and also shed profound light on the three kinds of faith and the true nature of renunciation, ensuring that Arjuna understood every aspect of this teaching with complete clarity.

Finally, presenting the essence of this entire, vast teaching, Krishna gave Arjuna that final, most profound aphorism — "Sarva-dharman parityajya mam ekam sharanam vraja" — meaning, abandoning the burden of all dharmas and duties, come to my refuge alone; he himself would free him from all sins. This promise was a symbol of exceedingly compassionate, supreme assurance.

Arjuna, completely freed from attachment and endowed with wisdom by this entire, profound eighteen-chapter teaching, casting aside all the doubts and delusions that had arisen in his mind, finally declared, with complete firmness and clarity, that he was now fully ready to fight according to Krishna's words. Thus this extraordinary teaching of the Gita itself became the deepest, most eternal backdrop for the beginning of the most terrible war in world history.

After this extraordinary teaching of the Gita, the historic moment finally arrived when, on the field of Kurukshetra, between the two vast armies, that terrible, eighteen-day great war formally began. Grandsire Bhishma, as commander of the Kaurava army, mounted on his vast chariot, took his position at the front of the army.

On the Pandava side, Dhrishtadyumna, who had appeared from fire for the very purpose of slaying Dronacharya, was appointed commander-in-chief. Both armies organized themselves into exceedingly well-ordered, carefully planned battle formations, and advanced swiftly toward each other with a terrible battle-cry.

In this first day's battle, many heroic warriors on both sides displayed their extraordinary valor. Grandsire Bhishma himself launched a fierce attack on the Pandava army, wounding and rendering unconscious many warriors with a rain of his invincible arrows, making clear that his valor had not diminished in the least despite his old age.

Abhimanyu, King Uttara, and many other young Pandava warriors also displayed their extraordinary heroism, though in this fierce first day's struggle, owing to the Kaurava army's extraordinary experience and Bhishma's leadership, the Pandava army had to retreat somewhat, though their morale did not break in the least.

With sunset, this first day's battle came to an end. Both sides gathered their wounded and dead soldiers, and after a night's rest, set about preparing an even more fierce strategy for the next day — this was merely the first glimpse of that long, unbearable struggle to come.

In the early days of the war, direct clashes occurred several times between Arjuna and Bhishma, though Arjuna, out of his deep affection and respect for his grandsire, naturally hesitated to fight him with his full strength and seriousness. He did use his arrows, but a clear, decisive intensity was noticeably absent from them.

Bhishma, with his extraordinary experience, at once recognized this reluctance of Arjuna's, and himself challenged Arjuna to fight with his full strength, for a battle fought with a half-hearted mind is neither proper nor of any use — it was his own dharma to fight with complete devotion to his duty.

During this period, Bhishma continued his extraordinary, exceedingly fierce attacks upon the Pandava army; his rain of arrows was so dense and unstoppable that even many experienced warriors of the Pandava army could not stand before him. It was becoming clear that as long as Bhishma remained fighting, the defeat of the Kaurava army seemed almost impossible.

Krishna, seeing Arjuna's hesitation and indecision, repeatedly reminded him that this was not the time for personal feelings, but the time for complete devotion to duty in order to protect dharma, and that Bhishma himself, out of his own sense of duty, was fighting in this war with his full strength, and so Arjuna too should fight with the same devotion.

This inner conflict continued to remain within Arjuna's heart for several days to come — profound proof that even merely hearing the teaching of the Gita does not instantly resolve this conflict between personal affection and duty; it requires continuous, conscious effort and practice.

In the very early days of the war, Prince Uttara, son of King Virata, who had played an important role as Arjuna's charioteer during the year of hiding, descended onto the battlefield with great courage, and fought an extraordinary, heroic battle against Shalya, king of Madra.

Uttara, at first, displayed his extraordinary heroism by destroying Shalya's chariot and horses, but eventually, before the experienced Shalya, he gave up his life — this death became a cause of deep grief for the entire Matsya army and the Pandavas, especially since Uttara, as the brother of Uttara (Abhimanyu's wife), also had a close family bond with the Pandavas.

During this same period, King Virata's other son, Shweta, too, fighting with great heroism against Grandsire Bhishma himself, eventually attained a hero's death. This double loss became a source of unbearable pain for King Virata, but he accepted his sons' sacrifice as an unavoidable, glorious offering of righteous war.

Despite these early losses, the Pandava army's morale did not break in the least; rather, each heroic death further kindled an even firmer resolve and desire for vengeance in the remaining warriors. It was becoming clear that this war was not going to end easily or quickly for either side.

With each passing day, the ferocity of the war grew ever more intense. Countless heroic warriors on both sides, according to their own duty and loyalty, continued to give up their lives in this vast, unavoidable struggle — and this pattern was to continue in this same manner for many more days to come.

Arjuna's son Iravan, born of the naga-princess Ulupi, and who had grown up in his mother's naga-loka, arrived on the field of Kurukshetra in the early days of the war, with his extraordinary naga-power and skill in battle, to help his father — his valor soon became renowned throughout the entire army.

Shakuni and Duryodhana, worried by Iravan's extraordinary valor, decided to defeat him at any cost, and sent the demon Alambusha, who himself possessed magical powers, to fight against Iravan — an exceedingly unequal, cunning strategy.

Alambusha, using his magical powers, became locked in a fierce, deceitful battle with Iravan. Though Iravan fought with exceeding heroism, eventually, before Alambusha's deceit and magical power, Iravan attained a hero's death — this became a cause of exceedingly deep, personal grief for Arjuna.

Iravan's heroic death later kindled, in Ghatotkacha's heart too, deep grief for his brother-like Iravan and a desire for vengeance against Alambusha — a feeling that would go on to play an important role in the coming days of the war.

Iravan's story is also profound proof that in this vast great war, not only the principal, well-known warriors, but countless other heroes too, whatever their lineage or circumstance, continued to give up their lives with unwavering devotion to their dharma and duty — each one's sacrifice is, in itself, a profound, poignant tale.

Bhima's son Ghatotkacha, with his extraordinary demonic powers received from his mother Hidimbi — especially his ability to multiply his strength several times over at night — proved, in the early days of the war, an exceedingly valuable, decisive warrior for the Pandava army.

In one night battle, when both armies were engaged in combat within the limits of their ordinary vision amid the terrible darkness, Ghatotkacha, making full use of his magical, demonic powers, wrought terrible terror and destruction in the Kaurava army; before his massive, fearsome form and supernatural skill in war, many Kaurava warriors fled in fear.

In this same night battle, Ghatotkacha also confronted Alambusha, who had earlier brought about the end of his brother Iravan. A fierce, magical battle broke out between the two, in which Ghatotkacha finally slew Alambusha, fulfilling his revenge for his brother's death.

Duryodhana and the other principal warriors of the Kaurava army grew exceedingly fearful of Ghatotkacha's extraordinary, destructive power, and requested Bhishma to find a swift solution to this crisis — it was Ghatotkacha's very influence that would later, in the Karna Parva, force Karna to use his most powerful, single-use Vasavi Shakti weapon.

Ghatotkacha's extraordinary contribution is profound proof that victory in this great war was made possible not by traditional archery and skill in arms alone, but through the combined efforts of diverse powers, strategies, and extraordinary warriors.

For the first nine days of the war, Grandsire Bhishma upheld, with complete devotion, the vow he had taken while accepting the post of commander — to defeat ten thousand Pandava warriors each day. This terrible, invincible tale of his valor became renowned throughout the whole of Kurukshetra.

Bhishma's skill in archery was so extraordinary that even many experienced warriors of the Pandava army could not stand before the speed and accuracy of his arrows; even while facing several enemies at once, he made not the slightest error in the speed of his chariot or the aim of his arrows.

Among the Pandava army, deep worry and despair began to spread over Bhishma's continuous, invincible valor; many warriors openly began to admit that as long as Bhishma remained fighting, the defeat of the Kaurava army, and thus the Pandavas' final victory, seemed nearly impossible.

Yudhishthira, seeing his grandsire's extraordinary, terrible valor, sank into deep anguish and confusion — on one hand, he was bound by his deep affection and respect for his grandsire, and on the other, he was deeply distressed by his army's terrible losses and the fear of impending defeat.

Krishna, fully understanding this grave, worrying situation, began to feel that if some concrete, decisive solution to Bhishma's invincible valor was not found soon, the entire Pandava army might gradually be destroyed in this grave crisis — this very concern became the backdrop for the important events to follow.

On the ninth day of the war, Bhishma's valor reached its peak, and he launched such a fierce attack on the Pandava army that Arjuna himself, out of his deep affection and hesitation toward his grandsire, began to seem unable to fight with full seriousness and intensity.

Krishna, from his charioteer's seat, seeing Arjuna's repeated hesitation and faltering, and deeply distressed by the Pandava army's growing losses, finally could not contain his pent-up anger. He tore off his chariot's wheel, and, in an exceedingly angry posture, rushed toward Bhishma himself to stop him, even though he himself had taken a vow not to take up arms in the war.

Seeing this, Arjuna and all the Pandavas present grew exceedingly frightened. Arjuna at once ran after Krishna, and stopping him, begged forgiveness for his unusual faltering, and gave his word that he would now fight with full, decisive intensity, and that Krishna would never need to break his vow.

Bhishma himself too, stepping down from his chariot, humbly cast aside his weapons before Krishna's unexpected, angry approach, and declared that meeting death at the hands of God himself would be a matter of supreme fortune and honor for him — this sight itself became a symbol of an extraordinary, poignant moment of devotion and reverence even in the midst of the battlefield.

Krishna, seeing Arjuna's word and the firmness of his resolve, finally calmed down, and, remounting the chariot, gravely reminded Arjuna that no room now remained for any kind of faltering or weakness. This incident proved an exceedingly important, decisive turning point for Arjuna.

In view of this exceedingly worrying state of the war, that night Yudhishthira held an exceedingly grave, necessary consultation with his brothers and Krishna, deliberating that some concrete, decisive solution to Bhishma's invincible, ruinous valor must be found, or else the complete destruction of their army seemed certain.

Krishna suggested that, since Bhishma himself was exceedingly righteous and affectionate, Yudhishthira himself should go directly to his grandsire and, with the greatest humility, ask him himself by what method his invincible valor could be halted — for Bhishma would never give his beloved grandsons a false or misleading answer.

Yudhishthira, though feeling hesitant about this exceedingly strange, emotionally painful request, nevertheless agreed to take this path, in order to protect his army and ensure the final victory of dharma — this was an exceedingly difficult, heart-rending decision for him.

That night, Yudhishthira, along with his brothers and Krishna, unarmed, arrived with great humility at Bhishma's camp. Seeing his beloved grandsons before him in this manner at night, unarmed, Bhishma was filled with deep affection and astonishment, and gave them a warm welcome.

Bhishma, learning the reason for this unusual visit, without the slightest disturbance, decided, with great compassion and clarity, to now reveal in full detail the profound secret of his own death, which he had previously expressed only in hints — this secret became the central focus of the story in the chapter to come.

Bhishma explained to his grandsons, in exceedingly affectionate but clear words, that there was only one way to stop him from fighting — bringing Shikhandi before him, for he had taken a lifelong, firm vow never to raise weapons against any woman, or against anyone who had previously been a woman.

He repeated once again the entire, profound story of Shikhandi — that in a previous life she had been Amba, princess of Kashi, who had obtained a boon from Shiva to take revenge on Bhishma, that she would become the cause of his death in her next life, and that now, as Shikhandi, son of Drupada, she was part of the Pandava army in this terrible great war.

Bhishma gave the clear counsel that Arjuna should place Shikhandi in front of his chariot and enter the battlefield; he himself, recognizing Shikhandi, would, because of his vow, offer no counter-attack against him, and taking advantage of this very opportunity, Arjuna could rain decisive arrows upon him from behind Shikhandi.

Bhishma gave this teaching in an exceedingly calm, grave voice, without any grief or fear, but with the profound acceptance that his destiny was now certain, and that he gladly accepted it in order to protect dharma and the sanctity of his vow — this was a final, profound proof of his extraordinary spiritual strength and self-restraint.

The Pandavas, deeply moved by their grandsire's extraordinary sacrifice and guidance, took leave of him with heavy hearts and returned to their camp, and began preparing for the next day, the tenth day of the war, with this very profound, heart-rending strategy.

In the tenth day's battle, following the advice given at that very night meeting with Bhishma, Arjuna placed Shikhandi in front of his chariot, and both, with an exceedingly well-planned strategy, advanced toward Bhishma — this moment was to become one of the most emotionally complex, most profound moments of the entire great war.

Shikhandi, driven by the memory of his previous life and a deep sense of vengeance, began raining arrows continuously upon Bhishma. Bhishma, true to his vow, recognizing that Shikhandi had been a woman in his previous life, refrained entirely from any counter-attack against him; he set down his weapons and left himself completely undefended before this attack.

Taking advantage of this very opportunity, Arjuna, from behind Shikhandi's cover, began an exceedingly precise and intense, terrible rain of arrows upon Bhishma. This sight was exceedingly poignant and heart-rending for all the warriors present on the battlefield, for the world's greatest archer was shooting arrows at his own grandsire, who stood there willingly unarmed.

Bhishma's entire body was pierced so deeply by Arjuna's countless, invincible arrows that no place was left even for skin on his body; every arrow lay pressed against the next. This sight was so extraordinary that both sides of the war, for a moment, stopped their respective struggles and watched this historic, heart-rending moment in stunned silence.

Finally, completely pierced by countless arrows, Grandsire Bhishma fell from his chariot — but his body could not touch the ground, for the countless arrows embedded in his body themselves, like an extraordinary, unique bed, held him suspended above the ground, in the air. This was that historic "bed of arrows" that would later become one of the most symbolic, most poignant images of the entire Mahabharata.

Bhishma's fall onto this bed of arrows proved an unbearable blow for both armies. The Kaurava army, seeing this plight of their most experienced, most trusted commander, sank into deep grief and fear, while the Pandava army too, out of its deep affection for its grandsire, felt deep anguish even in this victory.

A ceasefire was declared, and all the principal warriors of both sides — Duryodhana, Karna, Dronacharya, Yudhishthira, Bhima, Arjuna, and all the others — gathered near Bhishma's bed of arrows; everyone bowed with deep reverence and profound anguish before this extraordinary, elderly warrior.

Bhishma, even in this exceedingly painful state, with full consciousness and dignity, requested all those present that a suitable, comfortable pillow be placed beneath his head. Duryodhana at once ordered a precious, soft pillow to be brought, but Bhishma declined it, and asked Arjuna instead for a suitable pillow, fitting for a warrior.

Arjuna, at once understanding what kind of pillow his grandsire was expecting, planted three of his arrows in the ground and presented an exceedingly fitting, sharp bed of arrows beneath Bhishma's head. Bhishma was exceedingly satisfied with this "pillow of arrows," declaring that this alone was the most fitting resting place for a true Kshatriya warrior.

Bhishma further revealed that he possessed the boon of choosing the time of his own death, and that he would wait to give up his life until the sun began its journey toward Uttarayana; until then, he would lie on this very bed of arrows, directly witnessing the entire remaining course of this war — this promise became the backdrop for his important, continuing presence in the story to come.

Lying on the bed of arrows, Bhishma, overcome with intense thirst, asked all the warriors present for water. Duryodhana and many others at once sent for fragrant, cool water in golden vessels, but Bhishma clearly declined this, and asked for water only from Arjuna.

Arjuna, understanding his grandsire's particular request, placed a special, mantra-empowered arrow on his bow and struck a certain point in the ground. From this strike, a stream of pure, cool water burst forth from the ground, which entered directly into Bhishma's mouth and quenched his thirst — this was in truth a special stream of the very waters of the Ganga, a symbol of the grace of his mother Ganga.

Bhishma, exceedingly satisfied by this wondrous, divine acquisition of water, lavishly praised Arjuna's extraordinary skill in arms and his deep understanding, declaring that only Arjuna, because of his extraordinary knowledge and skill, could understand his true need.

After this incident, Bhishma gave all the warriors present, especially Duryodhana, one final, profound teaching — that he should still, while there was time, make peace with the Pandavas, and end this ruinous war — but Duryodhana, in his unbreakable arrogance, continued to ignore even this final, compassionate counsel.

Bhishma, on this bed of arrows, settled himself patiently to watch, as a silent witness, with his divine sight and experience, the entire remaining course of this terrible great war of Kurukshetra — this was yet another profound proof of his extraordinary penance and self-restraint.

After Bhishma's fall, Karna, who, in keeping with his vow, had until now abstained from war out of respect for Bhishma, came before the fallen Bhishma on his bed of arrows with an exceedingly heavy, sorrowful heart, and begged his forgiveness for all the distance and differences that had existed between them until now.

Bhishma, deeply moved by Karna's humble presence, and, in this closest moment of his death, setting aside all past bitterness, called Karna affectionately near him, and shared with him the profound truth that he had long known Karna's true identity — that he was Kunti's eldest son, and the eldest brother of the Pandavas.

Bhishma gave Karna one final, compassionate counsel — that he should still abandon Duryodhana's side and come over to his true brothers, that this final opportunity could save him from needless destruction and lead him back to his true, glorious identity.

Karna, deeply moved by this final, affectionate request from the grandfather-like Bhishma, yet still repeating that same unbreakable loyalty and gratitude, made clear that he could not now step back from his word and friendship toward Duryodhana, even if it meant fighting against his own brothers and giving up his own life.

Bhishma, seeing Karna's extraordinary, unshakable sacrifice and loyalty, was filled with deep reverence, and bestowed upon him his final blessing. This poignant meeting became yet another heartfelt proof, in this entire epic, of the profound, unavoidable conflict between loyalty, sacrifice, and destiny.

After this extraordinary fall of Bhishma, the Kaurava army sank into deep grief and instability at this unprecedented, heart-rending end of their first commander. Duryodhana and the other Kaurava leaders now had to decide at once who would take charge of leading the army further, so that the momentum and morale of the war could be maintained.

In the Pandava army too, though this was their decisive, strategic victory, a mixed feeling — the satisfaction of victory along with personal grief — prevailed, owing to their deep affection and reverence for their grandsire. Yudhishthira, in particular, continued to experience deep inner anguish even in this victory.

Krishna, throughout this entire course of events, continued to give the profound reminder that this war was not about personal affection or grief, but about the establishment of dharma and its final victory, and that Bhishma's sacrifice was itself an unavoidable, essential part of this vast journey of dharma.

Bhishma, remaining fixed on his bed of arrows for many weeks to come, was to patiently watch the entire remaining course of this great war — his extraordinary presence would, from time to time, remain an important, profound moral reference point for both sides in the parvas to come as well.

Thus the Bhishma Parva, beginning with that immortal, eternal teaching of the Shrimad Bhagavad Gita itself, reaches its conclusion with this extraordinary, heart-rending yet glorious fall of Grandsire Bhishma. In the next parva, the Drona Parva, the story of the coming, even more dramatic, challenging phase of this terrible great war, under the command of Acharya Dronacharya, will be told.