The twelfth day of the war was a tale of two separate, yet interconnected, battles, each fought with a terrifying ferocity.
To the south, the battle between Arjuna and the Samsaptakas was not a duel; it was an extermination. The Trigarta king, Susharma, and his brothers, their minds fortified by their suicidal vow, charged at Arjuna with a courage born of utter desperation. They showered his chariot with thousands of arrows, a relentless storm of steel. Some of the most desperate warriors, abandoning their chariots, even swarmed his vehicle on foot, attempting to physically seize him and Krishna. For a moment, the divine chariot was overwhelmed, the two heroes lost in a sea of enemy soldiers. But Krishna, with a powerful shrug of his divine shoulders, threw off the men clinging to him, and Arjuna, his face now a mask of cold fury, unleashed the full power of the Gandiva.
He fought like a god of destruction. He invoked the Tvashtra astra, a celestial weapon that created a powerful illusion, causing the Samsaptakas to lose their senses and begin slaying their own comrades, mistaking them for the enemy. As they reeled in confusion, he unleashed a torrent of arrows that cut them down by the thousands. He was a whirlwind of death, his chariot weaving through their ranks, the twang of his bow a constant, terrifying death knell. The Samsaptakas, though brave, were being systematically annihilated.
While Arjuna was engaged in this grim task, the main battle raged to the north. Drona, his path to Yudhishthira now clear of his greatest obstacle, launched a devastating assault. He smashed into the Pandava lines, his arrows clearing a path before him. The Pandava champions fought desperately to stop him, but the old preceptor was unstoppable. His eyes were fixed on a single prize: the king of Dharma.
As Drona closed in on Yudhishthira's position, the brave Panchala prince, Satyajit, fulfilled his sacred duty. He charged forward, his own chariot a lone shield against the storm of Drona's advance. The duel between the preceptor and the prince was fierce and heroic. Satyajit fought with the courage of a lion, using all his skill to hold back the great
Acharya. In a stunning display of valor, he managed to kill Drona's charioteer and his horses, and even broke the preceptor's bow. For a moment, it seemed a miracle was possible. But Drona, enraged, leaped from his disabled chariot, took up another bow, and with a single, perfectly aimed golden-winged arrow, he pierced Satyajit's heart, killing the valiant prince instantly.
With Yudhishthira's protector slain, the path was now clear. Drona, his eyes blazing with triumph, surged forward. The Pandava army, seeing their king exposed, began to break and flee in terror. The war was once again on a knife's edge.
It was at this moment that Arjuna, having finally crushed the last of the Samsaptakas, saw the disaster unfolding on the main front. He saw the royal banner of his brother wavering, and the red chariot of Drona closing in. But his path was blocked by another formidable foe: the ancient and mighty King Bhagadatta of Pragjyotisha, mounted on his colossal war elephant, Supratika. The old king, his wrinkled eyelids tied back with a silk cloth, challenged Arjuna to a duel. What followed was an epic confrontation. Arjuna's divine chariot, with its celestial speed, circled the great elephant, which was like a moving mountain. Bhagadatta fought with incredible skill, his javelins and arrows forcing even Arjuna onto the defensive. Then, in a final, desperate act, Bhagadatta unleashed his ultimate weapon, the terrible
Vaishnavastra, a celestial missile given to his father, Narakasura, by Lord Vishnu Himself, a weapon that could not be stopped by any mortal.
As the weapon blazed across the field, heading directly for Arjuna's chest, Krishna, with a calm smile, stood up on the chariot. The Vaishnavastra, upon seeing its original master, transformed into a beautiful garland of celestial flowers (Vaijayanti) and gently draped itself around Krishna's neck. Bhagadatta stared in stunned disbelief. Krishna then turned to a mortified Arjuna. "Do not fear, Partha," he said. "This weapon belongs to me. Now, end this." Guided by Krishna, Arjuna drew his bow. With a sharp, crescent-tipped arrow, he first cut the string of Bhagadatta's bow, and then, with another, he pierced the old king's heart. The mighty Bhagadatta fell from his elephant, dead. Arjuna then, with a final volley of arrows, killed the great elephant Supratika.
The sun set on the twelfth day, its fading light illuminating a scene of carnage and strategic failure. The Kaurava army, battered and bleeding, retreated to their camp. Their grand plan, the gambit upon which they had staked everything, had failed.
The mood in the Kaurava camp was one of utter despair and furious recrimination. The Samsaptakas, their suicide squad, had been completely annihilated, their sacrifice rendered meaningless. The great King Bhagadatta, one of their most powerful allies, was dead. And worst of all, despite Arjuna's absence for most of the day, Drona had once again failed to capture Yudhishthira. Duryodhana was beyond rage; he was in the throes of a cold, desperate fury. He stormed into Drona's tent, his words dripping with venom. "Another day, another failure, Acharya!" he hissed. "You had him. He was defenseless. And still, you could not fulfill your vow. My allies are dead, my armies are shrinking, and you continue to fail me. Is your love for your pupil so great that you would see my entire dynasty destroyed rather than bring him harm?"
Drona, weary from the day's battle, his heart heavy with the death of the valiant Satyajit, looked at the enraged king with a mixture of pity and contempt. "I told you, you foolish boy," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "As long as Krishna and Arjuna are on that field, this task is impossible. Not even the gods can defeat them. My strategies are perfect, but they are protected by a power that is beyond the science of warfare." Seeing the utter despair on Duryodhana's face, and perhaps feeling a pang of guilt for his failure, Drona made a new, more terrible promise. "There is one way," he said. "Tomorrow, I will create a formation so complex, so deadly, that no warrior alive can break it, save for Arjuna. It is the
Chakravyuha, the Discus Formation. We will lure Arjuna away once more, and then I will trap and crush the rest of their army within its inescapable walls. One of their great champions will surely fall. I vow this to you."
In the Pandava camp, there was a somber relief. They had survived. Yudhishthira was safe. Arjuna had won a great victory against Bhagadatta. But their hearts were heavy with the loss of the brave Satyajit, the man who had given his life to protect their king. They mourned their fallen friend, and a cold dread settled over them as their spies brought news of Drona's new vow. The
Chakravyuha. A name that was whispered in awe and terror in the halls of warriors. A puzzle of death to which only one man held the key. And they knew, with a chilling certainty, that the Kauravas would once again find a way to draw that one man away. The twelfth day was over. A great victory had been won, but it had come at a terrible cost, and it had set the stage for the greatest tragedy the war had yet seen.