Across the expansive battlefield as far as the eye could see stretched the broken and smoldering debris of a war finally drawing to a close: shattered machinery and ruined weapons lay twisted and strewn among the crushed bodies of dead warriors from both sides: Kuru and Pāṇḍava. One Kuru warrior, the king, stumbled and struggled to escape his predator, the enormous Pāṇḍava warrior called “Wolf-Belly.”
Wolf-Belly’s mace struck the king down, and with a roar he landed a blow on the Kuru’s spine, crushing it.
Camouflaged among the trees another fighter in the Kuru army watched his king’s painful end with deep dismay. And then an idea came upon him; a dark, terrible idea.
Night fell. The five young sons of the five Pāṇḍava’s slept deeply. A man snuck in it the tent. It was the same man who was hidden before among the trees: the son of a great man named Droṇa, who was the military guru of both the Pāṇḍavas and Kurus. He drew a blade and severed the head of each sleeping child, then left with the heads in a bag, dripping blood.
Early the next morning a terrible wailing lament echoed horribly across the silent battlefield. The mother had discovered the ghastly massacre.
Her husband, Arjuna, with tears in his own eyes, tried to comfort her. He said, “Oh my dear, auspicious woman. I will not wipe the tears from your eyes. Instead I will bring you the head of the murderer, stuck through with the arrows of my bow! Before performing the funerals for our children, you will stand upon the wretched head of that so-called brahmin!”
Arjuna, the friend of Infallible Krishna thus pacified his beloved wife with many heartfelt words. He then put on his armor, took up his terrible bow, and set off on his chariot in pursuit of his teacher’s son.