Arjuna, seeing this massive division charging directly at him, understood their purpose. He knew it was a trap, a ploy to remove him from the critical task of breaking the Mandala. But his Kshatriya-dharma (warrior's duty) would not allow him to refuse a direct challenge. With a grim nod to Krishna, he turned his chariot to face the Samsaptakas. What followed was less a battle and more a systematic execution. The Trigartas fought with the insane courage of men who had already accepted death, but they were throwing themselves against a god of war. Arjuna's Gandiva bow became a blur, and his arrows flew in an unending stream, cutting down the Trigartas by the hundreds, then by the thousands. It was a terrible, tragic slaughter, but it achieved the Kauravas' objective. For a crucial period of the day, Arjuna was occupied, his immense power removed from the central assault.
With Arjuna busy, the remaining Pandava champions found their task of piercing the Mandala to be nearly impossible. They fought through the second ring, only to be met by the third, and then the fourth. At every stage, they were met with fresh, determined resistance. Bhishma, from the center, orchestrated the defense perfectly, shifting his elite warriors to plug any gaps that appeared. Shikhandi, the warrior fated to be Bhishma's doom, charged at the grandsire, but was intercepted by Ashwatthama, the fiery son of Drona. The two fought a bitter duel, with Ashwatthama's rage and power forcing Shikhandi onto the defensive. Dhrishtadyumna, the Pandava commander, managed to break through to Duryodhana's position, and the two fought a savage duel, but Duryodhana, surrounded by his bodyguards, was able to hold his ground. The Pandava Vajra, its tip blunted by the absence of Arjuna, had lost its momentum. It was stuck, bogged down in the deep, bloody layers of the Kaurava fortress.
Part IV: The Seventh Sunset - A Victory of Defense
As the sun, a weary, blood-red eye, began to sink below the horizon, the conches sounded their welcome call to retreat. The seventh day of the war was over. The Pandava forces, exhausted and battered, slowly withdrew from the Kaurava formation, leaving behind thousands of their dead, their bodies trapped within the bloody rings of the Mandala. For the first time since the first day, the outcome was a clear, unambiguous victory for the Kauravas.
The mood in the Kaurava camp was one of jubilant relief. Their defensive strategy had worked perfectly. They had withstood the Pandavas' most concentrated assault, protected their king and their commander, and had inflicted a major psychological and material blow on the enemy. Duryodhana was ecstatic. He lavishly praised Bhishma for his brilliant strategy and hailed Drona as a hero for the slaying of Prince Shankha. "See!" he roared to his cheering commanders. "Their power is not limitless! Their heroes can be stopped! We have found the key to victory. We will hold our ground, we will let them break themselves against our walls, and we will grind them down, one by one!" For the first time in days, the fear that had haunted their camp was replaced by a renewed, if fragile, confidence. They had proven that they could not only survive, but win.
In the Pandava camp, the atmosphere was one of profound gloom, frustration, and grief. Their daring strategy had failed. The Vajra had been broken. And they had lost another prince. The grief of King Virata was a terrible thing to behold. He had now lost three sons—Uttara, Shveta, and now Shankha—to the war. He sat in his tent, a broken old man, his cries of anguish a stark reminder of the terrible price of their quest for justice. Yudhishthira was devastated, the weight of another kinsman's death on his conscience almost too much to bear. He felt the morale of his allies beginning to fray under the relentless pressure and the mounting losses.
Arjuna returned from his battle with the Samsaptakas, his chariot surrounded by a veritable mountain of their dead, only to find his own army in retreat and his allies in mourning. His personal victory felt hollow, a bitter reminder that while he was occupied, the main battle had been lost. He went to Yudhishthira, his face grim. "Brother, their fortress held. We could not break through. The grandsire's strategy was perfect. We cannot win this war of attrition. As long as he commands their army, we will continue to bleed, and they will continue to stand."
Krishna, who had been listening silently, finally spoke, his voice calm but firm. "Today, you have learned a valuable lesson. You cannot defeat Bhishma through conventional warfare. His skill is too great, his knowledge of strategy too profound. You have tried to pierce his formations, and you have failed. You have tried to overwhelm him, and you have failed. The grinder will not work in your favor as long as he is the one turning the handle."
A heavy silence fell over the commanders. They all knew what Krishna was implying, the terrible truth they had been avoiding. They could not defeat Bhishma in battle. Therefore, Bhishma had to be removed from the battle. The seventh day was over. It had been a tactical victory for the Kauravas, but it was a strategic turning point for the Pandavas. The seeds of the plan that would lead to the fall of the great grandsire, a plan born of desperation and necessity, had now been sown in the soil of their defeat.