Ghatotkacha
To see him a keen terror seized anyone who found himself having to face him. He was very tall, his huge body massive and powerful, his face deformed into a perennial monstrous mask, and his hair as red as flames. Ghatotkacha was impressive, and as with all Rakshasas, his strength and valor increased at night. He had arrived with Satyaki, and Karna had shown great courage and skill in facing him without any fear; but he soon found himself in great difficulty in the face of the magical arts of the enemy. Seeing him in danger, Duryodhana called his brother.
“Duhssasana, run to help Karna. Can’t you see? The Rakshasa uses black magic, evil spells and traps that allow no escape. Let’s not leave him alone.”
Just as they were discussing how to counter Ghatotkacha, Jatasura’s son Alambusha, namesake of the Rakshasa killed by the Pandavas in the previous days, arrived. He introduced himself to Duryodhana and greeted him.
“O king, my father Jatasura was killed by Bhima, and now I want revenge. Let me fight with you, and I will help you to win.”
Duryodhana, looking for nothing but a Rakshasa to send against Ghatotkacha, welcomed him. Then, having explained the situation, he said to Alambusha:
“You who are well versed in the magical arts, go and challenge the son of Bhima and begin to take your revenge by killing him. If you can defeat him, you will have relieved us of great anxiety and earned all our gratitude.”
And the young Rakshasa ran to counter Ghatotkacha; he was an expert in all kinds of martial arts, but that night Bhima’s son seemed infuriated. In no time at all he cut off his head and roaring with the force of a hundred angry lions, grabbed it and hurled it into Duryodhana’s chariot. Panic spread among all those who had found themselves witnessing the scene.
And after that duel Ghatotkacha returned to focus on the slaughter of the troops. He transformed his body and expanded it to gigantic proportions; his eyes in the dark shone like two comets.
That bloodthirsty evil spirit in a few minutes destroyed entire battalions, tens of thousands of Kaurava soldiers, including another king of the Rakshasa lineage named Alayudha, hitherto considered virtually invincible by all. Thus the scene of the throwing of the severed head on Duryodhana’s chariot was repeated, terrifying, if possible, the monarch even more. And while obsessive screams were heard, arrows, clubs, axes, and many other weapons rained incessantly on the Kauravas without it being possible to understand where they came from.
Fear had now paralyzed everyone: no one could even speak anymore, and the soldiers were just looking for a place to hide. The battle seemed to have come to an end. But perhaps for the Kauravas there was still another attempt to make before finally laying down their arms. Their last hopes, in fact, were placed in Karna.
So, without wasting time, everyone went to him to beg for protection.
“Kill Ghatotkacha,” even the greatest Kaurava heroes shouted, “for heaven’s sake, kill him, even if it means using the shakti. Do it now, or it will be a matter of minutes and our army will no longer exist.”
Karna hesitated.
Fate was raging against him again. His whole life had been marked by a single absurd misfortune. Although in front of his friend Duryodhana he boasted that he could kill Arjuna even without the aid of special weapons, in reality he was well aware that he would have the possibility of victory only if he had used the shakti, which could be used only once. All those days he had done nothing but wait for the opportunity to use it against Arjuna, but at the last moment the opportunity vanished as Krishna was leading his devotee somewhere else. And now there was this tremendous Rakshasa. As always it was Krishna who unleashed it against them in the night and in that moment, like a flash of light, he understood what intelligent plan Krishna had devised to give victory to His friends. But his reflections were continually disturbed by the monster hovering over their heads spitting rivers of fire, wreaking havoc among the troops.
Duryodhana joined him, wounded and bleeding in several places. His gaze was hallucinating with fear. Never before had Karna seen such an expression.
“Karna, don’t hesitate any longer, throw the shakti and kill this Rakshasa, or he will eliminate all of us in a few minutes.”
Even Duryodhana urged him to throw away the shakti destined for Arjuna. And he could not resist those pressures and the infernal atmosphere that had enveloped them and was inexorably swallowing them; he pulled the dagger out of its case.
“I will use this infallible weapon and kill the Rakshasa,” he told Duryodhana, “but know that our chances of victory end there.”
Having said this, he recited some mantras with rapt devotion; then his right hand threw the weapon, which flashed skyward like a thunderbolt. The dagger struck Ghatotkacha’s immense chest while he was flying above them and penetrated his body; there was a deafening roar. Struck to death, with his heart pierced, Ghatotkacha expanded again and when he fell to the ground he caused the last enormous carnage of his existence, crushing thousands of warriors under his weight.
The colossus was finally dead, the Kauravas could breathe a sigh of relief. It had cost a lot, perhaps too much, but no one regretted it. That terrible nightmare was over, and that was enough.
At that scene the Pandavas wept bitter tears. Only Krishna, who had hatched the whole plan, was happy: without the shakti Arjuna was no longer in danger.
The fighting continued for a while, then Arjuna agreed on a truce and the armies withdrew.
Many no longer even had the strength to return to their camp and fell asleep there, where they were.
This is a section of the book “Maha-bharata, Vol. 2”.
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