The Shattered Thigh

(Urubhangam)
- Bhasa

The last great battle of the Mahabharata war was a duel with maces between the Kaurava chief Duryodhana and
the Pandava prince Bhima, which ended with the former’s defeat and death.

As described in the ninth book of the epic, this final clash took place in the presence of the other four Pandava
princes, as well as Krishna and his brother Balarama. Duryodhana was alone. In the beginning the combat did
not go well for Bhima. Krishna told Arjuna that it would not be possible to defeat Duryodhana in a fair fight
and, at his urging, Arjuna signalled to Bhima that he should aim for his opponent’s thigh. This was a foul blow
according to the rules of combat with maces, But Bhima executed it and shattered Duryodhana’s thigh. He then
abused the fallen Duryodhana, and in turn was censured by Balarama for using unfair means. Krishna defended
Bhima, but Balarama was not convinced and left the scene after praising Duryodhana. The Pandavas and
Krishna also departed after some heated words with the mortally wounded but still defiant Duryodhana.

While Krishna and the Pandavas were consoling Duryodhana’s parents, the blind Dhritarashtra and queen
Gandhari, at their palace, Duryodhana was visited by the few remaining Kaurava warriors. One of them was
Ashwatthama, the son of the royal preceptor Drona who had earlier perished in the war, Greatly moved to see
the once mighty Duryodhana lying defeated, Ashwatthama swore that he would destroy the Pandavas.
Duryodhana promptly consecrated him as his next commander in-chief. The tenth book of the epic narrates
Ashwatthama’s nocturnal attack on the Pandava camp and the subsequent death of Duryodhana.

In the present play these events are described in a compressed form. Departing from the epic, the playwright
creates his own dramatic effect by bringing Duryodhana’s parents to his side together with his two queens and a
young son. The latter does not figure in the epic at all.

The play is also remarkable for its tragic ending, and for the depiction of Duryodhana’s death on stage, in
breach of the classic conventions of Sanskrit dramaturgy. On the other hand, it adheres to the convention of not
depicting warfare on stage. The duel between Bhima and Duryodhana is, instead, vividly described in an
opening interlude through a chorus of three soldiers, comparable to the three priests describing the sacrificial
ceremony in Five Nights.

Duryodhana is the central figure in this play. In turn defiant or resigned, vindictive or forgiving, despairing or
proud, his characterization here completes the portrait earlier outlined in Five Nights, The Envoy and The
Message. An additional touch is given by the poignant encounter of the dying Duryodhana with his wives and
his son.

This play, again of the type anka evoking the heroic and the compassionate flavours, is probably the nearest to a
tragedy in the modern sense that exists in classical Sanskrit literature.
 Cast in order of appearance

The Producer in the Prologue

His assistant in the Prologue

Three Soldiers of the Kaurava army

Balarama elder brother of Krishna

Duryodhana chief of the Kauravas, eldest son of Dhritarashtra

Dhritarashtra the blind old king

Gandhari wife of Dhritarashtra

Malavi wife of Duryodhana

Pauravi wife of Duryodhana

Durjaya young son of Duryodhana

Ashwatthama son of the Kurus’ preceptor

Other characters mentioned in the play

Vyasa a famous sage

Vidura a half-brother of Dhritarashtra

[After the benediction, enter the Producer]

PRODUCER: May Krishna help you surmount your enemies. The same, who took Arjuna across the flooded
river of his foes. A river whose source was Shakuni, and the torrent Duryodhana. A river full of swords and
arrows, with Jayadratha as the water and Karna as the waves, with Bhishma and Drona as its two banks, and
with Ashwatthama and Kripa as lurking crocodiles. And now, distinguished spectators, I have to announce that
but what is that? There seems to be a sound just as I was about to start. Well, let me look.

[Voices off stage]

VOICES: We are here! Sir, we are here!

PRODUCER: Ah, I see.

[Enter an Assistant]

ASSISTANT: Sir, from where have these people come? Their limbs are wounded with thrusts of spears and
arrows and elephant tusks. They challenge each other as they rush about. It seems they want to die fighting for
the sake of glory.

PRODUCER: Don’t you understand, sir? Kurukshetra is littered with the corpses of kings. Only Duryodhana
remains on the side of blind Dhritarashtra who has already lost a hundred sons. And on the side of Yudhishthira,
only Krishna and the Pandava brothers remain. The battlefield is like one of those pictures, full of minute
details. Dead elephants and horses, dead kings and soldiers, all killed in combat. And the combat of Bhima and
Duryodhana is about to begin. Their warriors are already dead.

[Exit]

[END OF PROLOGUE]
 ACT I
[Enter three soldiers]

ALL: We are here! Sir, we are here!

FIRST: This is war. The cauldron of hate and brute force, of pride and glory. Where the nymphs of heaven
select their bridegrooms. Where lives are sacrificed, and princes find heroic deathbeds stairways to paradise.

SECOND: That’s right. The ground is dotted with dead elephants. There are nesting vultures and empty
chariots on all sides. The princes are no more. Yet, they still live, such were their deeds in battle.

THIRD: Quite so. War is a sacred sacrifice. Enmity fans its flames. Elephant trunks are the ritual posts, and
arrows the ceremonial grass. Men perish there as sacrificial beasts. Their cries are the sacred chants.

FIRST: Look this side, gentlemen. These nobles lie dead here, struck by each others’ shafts. And those birds
with bloodstained beaks are trying to loosen the ornaments from their bodies.

SECOND: And that war-elephant fallen under a hail of darts, its armour pierced. It looks like an arsenal with all
the bows and arrows around it.

THIRD: And there’s another sight. Those jackals are eagerly pulling out a dead warrior from his chariot, with
all his jewelled quiver and garlands. From the same chariot, would his sisters- in-law have helped him down
when he was a bridegroom.

ALL: Kurukshetra is a terrifying sight today. The ground is a slush with the blood of elephants, horses and men.
Broken armour and all kinds of weapons are scattered everywhere.

FIRST: Dead elephants lie like bridges in pools of blood. Others wander crazed, without their drivers. Horses
pull empty chariots. Headless trunks writhe and twitch.

SECOND: Look at those vultures with wings outstretched, like palm-leaf fans in the sky. They have pale eyes,
and beaks like elephant goads, with bits of flesh on them like coral.

THIRD: All these dead horses and elephants, soldiers and chieftains are so sharply etched by the harsh glare of
sunlight. And so are the scattered spears and arrows, swords and daggers. Like stars fallen on the earth.

FIRST: But even in this condition, the warriors look splendid. Their fearless faces are still like lotuses, lying on
land.

SECOND: Even such warriors cannot resist death, what to say of lesser people.

THIRD: Death is the soldier’s fate.

FIRST: Without doubt.

SECOND: That’s not so. It was Arjuna who forced death on these proud chiefs, with his sharp arrows and
terrible bow.

ALL: Listen, there’s a sound. The rumble of a thundercloud? A thunderbolt on a mountain peak? A tremor in
the earth below?
The crash of waves in a stormy sea? Let’s see.

[All move around]

FIRST: Look! The combat between Bhima and Duryodhana has begun. The middle Pandava is incensed,
remembering the humiliation of Draupadi. The king is enraged at the killing of his hundred brothers. They are
duelling with maces before Vyasa and Vidura, Krishna and Balarama, and the other Kuru and Yadava leaders.

SECOND: Bhima’s broad chest is like a golden rock. Duryodhana’s shoulders are hard as an elephant’s trunk.
They strike at each other with weapons poised. That sound is the clash of their maces.

THIRD: Look at the king! His face is flushed with anger. His helmet plume quivers as he advances crouching,
his arm extended. The blood-spattered mace in his right hand gleams like lightning on Mount Kailasa.

FIRST: Look at Bhima. His body is covered with blood. It flows from his gashed brow and shoulders. His chest
is wet with gouts of blood. Wounded and bleeding from mace blows, he looks like a mountain covered with
streams of red mud.

SECOND: Duryodhana swings a fearful mace. He roars as he springs. He is quick to draw his arm and ward the
other’s blow. He advances striking relentlessly. The king has more skill. But Bhima is stronger.

THIRD: Bhima is like a mountain. He has no match in a fight. But he is wet with blood from that big wound on
his head. And look! He has fallen down! Like a mountain peak struck by lightning.

FIRST: Bhimasena has fallen! His legs buckled under that heavy blow. Vyasa seems astonished, his face
upturned resting on a single finger under the chin.

SECOND: Yudhishthira looks distressed. Vidura is in tears.

THIRD: Arjuna plucks at his bow, Gandiva. Krishna stares at the sky. ALL Balarama is waving his plough with
excitement. He loves his pupil.

FIRST: The king is brave. His helmet gleams with gems. He is radiant with daring, with dignity and arrogance.
He says mockingly: ‘Don’t be afraid, Bhima. The brave do not strike someone who is down during battle!’

SECOND: Seeing Bhimasena thus ridiculed, Krishna now gives him a sign, striking his own thighs.

THIRD: That sign seems to have assured Bhima. Seeing his son’s distress, the wind-god has also given him
strength. He knits his brow, wipes off the sweat, and grasps his mace “Chitrangada with both hands. Then,
roaring like a lion at a bull, he stands up again.

FIRST: Oh! The combat has started again. The son of Pandu rubs his hands on the ground, bites his lip and
roars with rage. But that’s a foul! He follows Krishna’s sign, but ignores the rules. With a swift and deep two-
handed swing he has hurled the mace on the thighs of Gandhari’s son!

ALL: Alas! The king has fallen.

THIRD: Seeing the king fallen, his body pale with loss of blood, the blessed Vyasa has risen into the sky.
Balarama covers his eyes. He is angry for Duryodhana. Meanwhile, on Vyase’s advice, Krishna and the
Pandavas lead Bhima away.
FIRST: Bhimasena’s departure has been noticed by Balarama, even though his eyes were closed. Balarama’s
headdress quivers. His eyes are bloodshot with anger. As he pulls up his garland and draws his dark garment
around his body, he looks like the moon descended on earth.

SECOND: Come, let us also go and attend on the king.

THE OTHERS: Very good.

[Exit all]
 ACT II

[Enter Balarama]

BALARAMA: That was not fair, O you kings. He cheated in the contest. He was too proud to care about me or
my death- dealing plough. In open battle he brought the mace down on Duryodhana’s thighs, and also dragged
down the reputation of his own family. Live on, Duryodhana! Till I plunge this plough into Bhima’s breast
today, and make it full of furrows wet with sweat and blood.

[Voice off stage]

VOICE: Please! Please, lord Balarama!

BALARAMA: O poor Duryodhana! Even in this plight he follows me. Like a child he drags himself on the
ground. His arms are pale with dust. His body is smeared and wet with the bloody cosmetic of war. But he is
splendid, like the serpent dragging its tired body through the water, after having been used to churn the ocean.

[Enter Duryodhana, with both his thighs broken]

DURYODHANA: Here I am. Bhima broke the rules of war. His mace blow shattered my thighs. I drag my
half-dead body along the earth with my arms. But please, lord Balarama, please calm your anger. Today, for the
first time, this head is on the ground, at your feet. We are finished. And so is the war and the enmity. Now just
let the funeral of the Kuru clan proceed.

BALARAMA: O Duryodhana, live on, at least for a little while.

DURYODHANA: What are you going to do?

BALARAMA: Listen. I will make an offering for your fallen comrades. I will give them the sons of Pandu,
their bodies pierced with my plough and smashed with my club.

DURYODHANA: No, no, sir. Bhima fulfilled his vow. My brothers have gone to heaven. I am in this
condition. What will be achieved by fighting?

BALARAMA: Sir, you were cheated before my eyes. That has made me very angry.

DURYODHANA: You think I was cheated?

BALARAMA: Is there any doubt about it?

DURYODHANA: O I had put my life on stake. Bhima had the wit to escape from that dreadful fire in the
house of lac. He survived the avalanche of rocks in the battle with Kubera. He killed the demon, Hidimba. If
you think, Balarama, that he beat me today by deceit, that is just not so.

BALARAMA: Should Bhimasena live, having cheated you in battle?

DURYODHANA: Was I cheated by Bhimasena?

BALARAMA: Then by whom have you been brought to this pass?

[Voices off stage]

VOICES: Move aside, gentlemen, move aside!

BALARAMA: (Looking) Oh! That is His Majesty Dhritarashtra with Gandhari, led by Durjaya. The ladies of
the inner palace are also with him. His step falters. His heart is full of grief. But it is also full of courage. The
gods were fearful at his birth, and blinded him. He distributed his sight among a hundred sons. He still stands
proud and upright. His long arms are like columns of gold.

[Enter Dhritarashtra, Gandhari, two Queens and Durjaya]

DHRITARASHTRA: My son, where are you?

GANDHARI: Where are you, my child?

QUEENS: Great king, where are you?

DHRITARASHTRA: Alas! My sightless eyes have been blinded even more by tears since I heard today that
my son had been struck down by trickery. Gandhari, are you there?

GANDHARI: Alas! I am still alive.

QUEENS: Great king! O great king!

DURYODHANA: Alas! My wives are also weeping. I had hardly noticed the mace's blow before. It is only
now that I feel its full force, when my women come into the battlefield with their heads uncovered.

DHRITARASHTRA: Gandhari, can you see Duryodhana, the pride of our family?

GANDHARI: I cannot see him, Your Majesty.

DHRITARASHTRA: What do you mean? Alas, today I am truly blind, when I cannot even see my son at this
time of need. I was the proud father of a hundred splendid sons. Do I not deserve that even one should remain to
make my funeral offering?

GANDHARI: Suyodhana, my boy, answer me. Say something to console your grief-stricken father.

BALARAMA: That is queen Gandhari. She always yearned to see her children and grand-children, but kept her
eyes bandaged out of devotion to her husband. Now even her fortitude is overcome by grief. That bandage of
devotion is wet with tears.

DHRITARASHTRA: Duryodhana! My son! King of eighteen armies! Where are you?

DURYODHANA: A king indeed today!

DHRITARASHTRA: My firstborn son! Come! Answer me!

DURYODHANA: Answer you indeed! I am ashamed at what has happened.

DURYODHANA: I am coming. (Tries to get up, but falls again) Alas! This is the second blow. Bhimasena's
mace has today deprived me, both of using my thighs and of saluting my father.

GANDHARI: Here, my daughters.

QUEENS: We are here, madam.

GANDHARI: Go to your husband.

QUEENS: We go, ill-fated as we are.

DHRITARASHTRA: Who is this guiding me? Tugging at the hem of my garment?

DURJAYA: It's me, grandfather. Durjaya.

DHRITARASHTRA: Durjaya! Go, grandson, look to your father.

DURJAYA: But I am tired, grandfather.

DHRITARASHTRA: Go, rest in your father's lap.

DURJAYA: I am going. (Approaching) Father, where are you?

DURYODHANA: Oh, he has come too. Love for a son is always in one's heart. In all conditions. But now it
burns me. Durjaya has never known sorrow. He has only known the comfort of his father's lap. What will he say
when he sees me defeated?

DURJAYA: Here's the great king. He's sitting on the ground.

DURYODHANA: My son! Why have you come?

DURJAYA: You were away for so long.

DURYODHANA: Ah! Even in this condition, love for my son burns my heart.

DURJAYA: I want to sit in your lap. (Tries to climb on to Duryodhana's thighs)

DURYODHANA: (Preventing him) Durjaya! Durjaya! The pain! Alas! This light of my eyes, delight of my
heart, this moon, is now a burning fire.

DURJAYA: Why don't you let me sit in your lap?

DURYODHANA: Let it be, my son. Sit anywhere else. From today your old familiar sitting place is not there
any more.

DURJAYA: Why, where is the great king going?

DURYODHANA: I am going to my brothers.

DURYODHANA: Tell that to Bhima, my son.

DURJAYA: Come, great king, you are being called.

DURYODHANA: By whom, son?

DURJAYA: By Her Majesty and His Majesty and all the palace ladies.

DURYODHANA: You go, my son. I cannot come.

DURJAYA: I'll take you.

DURYODHANA: You are still too small, my son.

DURJAYA: (Walking around) Ladies, the great king is here.

QUEENS: The great king! Alas! Alas!

DHRITARASHTRA: Where is the great king?

GANDHARI: Where is my child?

DURJAYA: Here he is, sitting on the ground.

DHRITARASHTRA: Alas! Is this the great king? He was like a pillar of gold, the king of all kings. And now
my poor boy lies on the floor, like a broken doorpost.

GANDHARI: Suyodhana, my child. You must be tired.

DURYODHANA: My lady, I am your son.

DHRITARASHTRA: Who is that?

GANDHARI: It is I, great king, who gave birth to fearless sons.

DUIRYODHANA: I now feel reborn today. Come father, why this distress now?

DHRITARASHTRA: Why would I be distressed, son? Your hundred brave brothers were consecrated for
battle. They have all perished. With you, I also am dead. (Falls)

DURYODHANA: Alas! His Majesty has fallen. Father, you must console the queen.

DHRITARASHTRA: What consolation can I give her?

DURYODHANA: Say I died in battle facing the foe. O father, control your grief for my sake. I have bowed my
head only at your feet. I have no care for this fire raging within me. I will go to heaven just as proudly as I was
born.

DHRITARASHTRA: I am old and blind from birth. I have no wish to live. And now this bitter grief for my
children has come upon me.
BALARAMA: Alas! His eyes are closed for ever. He has lost all hope for his son. I can hardly announce
myself to him just now.

DURYODHANA: My lady, I would like to say something to you.

GANDHARI: Speak, my child.

DURYODHANA: With folded hands I say to you, if I have done any good at all in this life, be my mother in
my future lives also.

GANDHARI: You speak indeed my own wish.

DURYODHANA: Malavi, you also listen. Blows of the mace have bloodied my brow. The blood on my breast
leaves no place for garlands. Look at my arms, with wounds as fine as golden bracelets. But your husband fell
in battle without turning his back. You are a warrior's wife. Why should you weep?

MALAVI: I am just a girl, your wedded wife. So, I weep.

DURYODHANA: And you, Pauravi. We performed the various sacrifices enjoined by the scriptures. We
looked after the family. Our dependents had no complaints. Our dear brothers subjugated the enemies. The
kings of the eighteen armies were given a hard battle. You are a proud woman. Think of my pride. Wives of
such men do not weep.

PAURAVI: I have already decided to go with you. So I do not weep.

DURYODHANA: Durjaya, you listen also.

DHRITARASHTRA: Gandhari, what does he say?

GANDHARI: My own thoughts.

DURYODHANA: You must listen to the Pandavas just as you do to me. Obey the orders of the lady, mother
Kunti. Honour Draupadi and the mother of Abhimanyu like your own mother. Look, my son! Duryodhana was
your father. He was splendid and glorious. His heart was fired with pride. He fell in battle facing an equal
adversary. Just remember this and give up grief. Then, touching the silk on Yudhishthira's strong right arm, you
must join the sons of Pandu in offering the funeral water in my name.

BALARAMA: Ah! Enmity gives way to remorse. Well, the drums and trumpets are silent. Arrows and armour,
fans and umbrellas, all lie scattered. The soldiers and charioteers all lie dead. But there is a noise. Frightened
crows are wheeling in the sky. From whose bow is that sound?

[Ashwatthama’s voice off stage]

ASHWATTHAMA: I came to this battle with Duryodhana when he raised the bow. I was as eager as a priest
coming to the great horse sacrifice. Now I have come again.

BALARAMA: Oh, that is the preceptor’s son coming here. Ashwatthama. Large, clear eyes. Long golden arms.
Angrily drawing that terrible bow. He shines like Mount Meru with a rainbow on its peak.

[Enter Ashwatthama]
ASHWATTHAMA: Listen to me, you warrior kings. Your armies came together in battle like two oceans. Like
sharks were the upraised weapons. Few survive, and their life ebbs with each breath. But it was the Kuru king,
not I, whose thighs were shattered by deceit. It was the charioteer’s son, not I, whose weapons failed. Today, I,
the son of Drona, stand alone on this field of victory, my weapons drawn. But, for me also, what is the point of
glory in war without the accolade of victory. (Walking around) But, no. The king of the Kurus was cheated
when I was busy with my father’s funeral. Who will believe it? The lords of eleven armies waited with folded
hands upon his words. Bhishma and my father fought for him in the battle. It is clear that Duryodhana was
defeated only by bad luck. Now where is he? (Walking around and looking) Ah! Here is the Kuru king. He has
crossed the ocean of war, and now lies in the midst of fallen elephants and horses, chariots and soldiers. His hair
is dishevelled. His limbs are wet with blood from mace blows. He lies on this final stony seat, like the sun at
sunset, sinking into twilight. (Approaching him) O Kuru king, what is this?

DURYODHANA: The fruit of craving, O son of my teacher.

ASHWATTHAMA: Your Majesty, I am going to put aside the proprieties

DURYODHANA: What are you going to do?

ASHWATTHAMA: Krishna wants to fight. I am going to wipe out the sons of Pandu, together with him and
his eagle and discus Like bad lines from a drawing.

DURYODHANA: No. No, sir, not that. All those crowned kings are no more. Karna has gone to heaven.
Bhishma has fallen. All my hundred brothers have perished in battle. And we are in this condition. Lay down
your bow, sir.

ASHWATTHAMA: Your Majesty, it seems that in the contest when Bhima struck you with the mace and
seized you by the hair, he crushed your pride and spirit also, along with your thighs.

DURYODHANA: No, no. What are kings but pride. It was for the sake of pride that I chose this war. Look,
teacher’s son, how Draupadi was dragged by the hair at the gambling match, how Abhimanyu was killed in
battle while still a boy, how the Pandavas were beaten by a trick of the dice and sent to live in the forest with
wild animals. Just think, there is not much they have done to break my spirit and pride.

ASHWATTHAMA: I swear by everything, by you, by the paradise of warriors, by my own soul, I will attack
tonight and destroy the Pandavas in battle.

BALARAMA: This will certainly happen. The preceptor’s son has said it.

ASHWATTHAMA: Lord Balarama.

DHRITARASHTRA: Alas, this conspiracy has a witness.

ASHWATTHAMA: Come here, Durjaya. By this priest’s oath, may you be the uncrowned king of all the realm
won by your father’s strength and valour.

DURYODHANA: Bless you! What my heart wanted is done. Now my life is going. Shantanu and all my royal
ancestors are here. Here are my brothers with Karna at their head. Here too is Abhimanyu, with his boyish
tresses, sitting on Indra’s elephant, berating me angrily. Urvashi and the celestial nymphs have come to receive
me. Here are the oceans, and the Ganga and the other rivers. Death has sent a warrior’s car drawn by a thousand
swans to fetch me. I come. (Dies)

[He is covered with a cloth]

ASHWATTHAMA: And I go, weapon in hand, ready to kill those who sleep tonight.

Benediction

BALARAMA: May the lord of men destroy the enemies and protect us all.

[Exit all]