33

Heroism, Military Violence and the State

in Ancient India
jarrod whitaker

This chapter will examine some of the martial messages contained in six
chapters of the voluminous Śānti Parvan (Book of Peace), which is the twelfth
book of India’s great epic, the Mahābhārata (MBh). The six chapters – namely,
MBh 12.98–103 – appear in an identifiable segment of the text, MBh 12.93–107,
which James Fitzgerald entitles ‘Law, Force, and War’,1 and this section is set
within one of the major divisions of the Śānti Parvan (MBh 12.1–128), entitled
‘The Laws for Kings’ (rājadharmaparvan). While most of the information in
the Śānti Parvan is composed for and about kings, the six chapters describe in
detail the ideological and social strategies that a king can employ to convince
men to fight in battle. As such, the chapters contain a wealth of information
on the identity of warriors and depict a set of martial expectations and ideals –
a blueprint – which a king can draw on to edify his soldiers (at least the types
of soldiers imagined by the author(s) of the chapters). Consequently, the six
chapters of the Śānti Parvan give us a rare window into some of the discursive
practices that enactors of the ancient Indian state – kings and ministers;
generals and military officers; Brahman priests and Ksatriya nobles – may
have employed to socialise men into a martial ideology,˙ while justifying it as
the most ethical way to live.
While the six chapters are complex in their martial messages, I will
examine primarily the discourse about the śūra, the paradigmatic ‘heroic
warrior’. According to the six chapters, the śūra perfectly embodies the
martial ideals of the army. The chapters are clear that this character’s actions
and demeanour define the standards by which all warriors will be judged. In

1 J. L. Fitzgerald (ed. and trans.), The Mahābhārata, Book 11: The Book of the Women; Book 12:
The Book of Peace, Pt. 1 (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2004), p. 403. Full
translations of epic stanzas come from Fitzgerald or J. A. B. van Buitenen (ed. and
trans.), The Mahābhārata, 3 vols. (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1973–8). I have
taken the liberty of modifying the translations of partial stanzas used as examples in
exegetical paragraphs and have standardised the translation of śūra as ‘hero’ or ‘heroic
warrior’.

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 Heroism, Military Violence, and the State in Ancient India

other words, the role of the śūra is an aspirational standard expected of all
soldiers, whether high-born members of the aristocratic Ksatriya class or men
from the lower classes.2 Consequently, the concept of˙ ‘heroism’ (śaurya,
derived from śūra) is not merely a romanticised ideal reserved for epic
archetypes because a śūra can come from the ranks of many different kinds
of men from various regions. As the text succinctly states, ‘heroes with great
courage and great strength are born everywhere’ (MBh 12.102.6). In addition,
since a hero provides protection in times of peace and danger, people should
construct an image of him and pay homage to his deeds (though, according to
the text, they fail to do this; MBh 12.98.16–17). This is one of the most explicit
statements in ancient Indian literature of hero worship. It may also reflect the
appearance of hero-stones throughout the subcontinent in the early centuries
of the Common Era.3
The importance placed on the śūra in the six epic chapters is particularly
interesting. As I have argued elsewhere, in the R̥ gveda (c. 1200 B C E ) the
accented term śū́ ra designates the quintessential heroic champion, whose
martial role is exemplified by the warrior god Indra in his battle with the
demonic serpent Vr̥ tra.4 Since the Mahābhārata was composed in Sanskrit at
around the turn of the Common Era,5 the six epic chapters draw on and
propagate a much older ideal of heroism dating back a thousand years or
more. As will be seen, the use of Vedic precedents is further seen in the
concept of the ritual of battle, in which the bodies and body parts of warriors

2 According to Arthaśāstra 6.1.1 (hereafter AŚ), the army functions as one of the main
institutions of the ancient Indian state, and both the MBh and AŚ affirm that it should be
comprised of four divisions: elephants, chariots, cavalry and infantry. In addition,
according to AŚ 6.1.11 soldiers in the army do not always come from the ranks of the
Ksatriya class. This is implied throughout MBh 12.98–103, which uses the heroic ideal of
˙ śūra and that of Ksatriyas to underscore just how all ‘warriors, soldiers’ (yodha,
the
yodhin) should behave. ˙
3 Hero-stones (vı̄ragal) commemorate the violent death of a warrior, either in battle or in
cattle raids, and his subsequent ascension to heaven. See S. Settar and G. D. Sontheimer
(eds.), Memorial Stones: A Study of Their Origins, Significance, and Variety (Dharwad:
Institute for Indian Art History, Karnataka University, 1982).
4 See J. L. Whitaker, Strong Arms and Drinking Strength: Masculinity, Violence, and the Body
in Ancient India (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011), esp. pp. 109–31. Throughout the
epic, Indra plays a key role in legitimising the actions of heroes. In relation to Vr̥ tra’s
slaying, he asserts that he became overlord of the gods by defeating many demons in
battle, among them Vr̥ tra (MBh 12.99.43, 48–9); and according to MBh 5.132.23cd–24ab, ‘a
hero (śūra) attains fame by killing just one enemy. Indra became Great Indra by merely
killing Vr̥ tra’.
5 See A. Bowles, Dharma, Disorder and the Political in Ancient India: The Āpaddharmaparvan
of the Mahābhārata (Leiden: Brill, 2007), pp. 16–35; J. L. Fitzgerald, ‘Mahābhārata’, in Brill’s
Encyclopedia of Hinduism, https://referenceworks.brillonline.com/browse/brill-s-ency
clopedia-of-hinduism.

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 jarrod whitaker

are equated with sacrificial offerings in a violent rite that bestows heavenly
rewards upon the slain. The six epic chapters are thus enormously significant
for our understanding of the concept of heroism in ancient India. In addition,
they help us to understand the role the ancient Indian state played in fostering
heroic ideals while allowing us to speculate on some of the institutionalised
practices that may have informed the identities of real high-born warriors and
common soldiers. (It is important to note here that the state is in essence the
kingdom ruled by an all-powerful king who resides at its imagined centre
with his royal family, partisans and conquered vassal lords paying tribute.
Enemy kings may exist outside its borders, but need to be allied with or
conquered.)6 Consequently, this chapter will consider some of the complex
ways in which men were socialised into a state-sponsored ideology of warfare
in ancient India while exploring various discursive strategies that sought to
convince men, young or old, that fighting and dying in battle was the
expected, right and most honourable thing to do.

Sources
Before examining the six epic chapters in question, it is necessary to make some
general observations about the textual sources. As one of the world’s longest
narrative poems, the Mahābhārata focuses on the actions of aristocratic war-
riors and kings who comprise the Ksatriya class. The main story narrates at
˙
length a multi-generational conflict between two closely related royal families,
the Pāndavas and Kauravas, whose fight for control of the throne culminates in
˙˙
an eighteen-day apocalyptic war. The five Pāndava brothers are the heroic
˙˙
exemplars of law and order (dharma). While victorious in the end, the Pāndavas
at times contravene ethical and legal prescriptions by employing underhand ˙˙
tactics to win the war, often at the behest of their divine counsellor, Kr̥ sna.
Their hundred Kaurava cousins, led by the Duryodhana, are said to embody ˙˙
chaos and disorder (adharma), yet during their unlawful reign the kingdom
prospers and they also uphold the ideals of fair fighting.7

6 This idea is evident in the Śānti Parvan (see esp. MBh 12.59), the Mānava Dharmaśāstra
(e.g. MDhŚ 93.294–7) and the Arthaśāstra (see AŚ 6.2.14–22 and AŚ 8.1–2). For considera-
tion of the ancient Indian state, see R. Thapar, From Lineage to State: Social Formations in
the Mid-First Millennium BC in the Ganga Valley (Bombay: Oxford University Press, 1984),
and P. Olivelle, King, Governance, and Law in Ancient India: Kautilya’s Arthaśāstra
(New York: Oxford University Press, 2013), pp. 38–51. ˙
7 J. L. Fitzgerald, ‘Making Yudhisthira the King: The Dialectics and the Politics of
˙˙
Violence in the Mahābhārata’, Rocznik Orientalistyczny 54 (2001), 63–92; T. Brekke,
‘Breaking the Thigh and the Warrior Code’, in R. Aquil and K. Roy (eds.), Warfare,
Religion, and Society in Indian History (Delhi: Manohar, 2006), pp. 43–61.

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 Heroism, Military Violence, and the State in Ancient India

As the twelfth book of the epic, the Śānti Parvan contains an enormous
amount of information on governance, ethics and issues of law and its
enforcement. The section entitled ‘Law, Force, and War’ (MBh 12.93–107)
replicates the larger framing device of the Śānti Parvan since it presents an
ongoing conversation at the war’s end on dharma between the eldest
Pāndava brother and newly consecrated king, Yudhisthira, and his grand-
˙ ˙ patriarch, Bhı̄sma. Throughout the epic, and especially
fatherly ˙˙ in its twelfth
˙
book, arguments are made for just war in contrast to unjust war under the
broad heading of rājadharma. The epic also prescribes rules of chivalrous
fighting for members of the warrior class under the heading of
ksatriyadharma. Issues of jus ad bellum and jus in bello are directly addressed
in˙ MBh 12.93–7, yet the idealistic rules of warfare are frequently circumvented
by prescriptions that allow a king to use ‘crooked’ (vakra) strategies which
‘slightly squeeze the law’ (MBh 12.101.1): a fact underscored by Kr̥ sna’s
sustained advice to the Pāndavas elsewhere in the epic.8 In addition, while ˙
˙ ˙
the epic accounts of violence are heavily romanticised, especially in terms of
the superhuman nature of its main characters, the information in the Śānti
Parvan has a clear didactic purpose as the episodes communicate messages
about how real kings and warriors should act, often in situations where the
right course of action is unclear legally or ethically.
Prescriptions about warfare also appear in legal texts called generally
Dharmasūtras (‘Treatises on Law’). One such text called the Mānava
Dharmaśāstra (MDhŚ) was composed at the beginning of the Common Era
by an orthodox Brahman named Manu, who proclaimed honourable warfare
the ‘eternal duty/law of warriors’ (MDhŚ 7.98b: yodhadharmah sanātanah).
˙ ˙
A similar sentiment is expressed in the Mahābhārata, which quotes Manu as
saying ‘war must be waged according to law’ (MBh 12.96.14a: tasmād dharmena
yoddhavyaṃ). The point here is that the Mānava Dharmaśāstra provides ˙
parallel information on warfare as well as detailing ethical prescriptions for
warriors (see especially MDhŚ 7.87–98). Furthermore, Manu drew on the
Arthaśāstra in his discussions of kingship.9 Composed in the first centuries of

8 For discussion of the concepts of dharmayuddha (‘just war’) and kūtayuddha (‘unjust
war’) in Indian history, see T. Brekke, ‘Between Prudence and Heroism: ˙ Ethics of War
in the Hindu Tradition’, in T. Brekke (ed.), The Ethics of War in Asian Civilizations:
A Comparative Perspective (London: Routledge, 2006), pp. 113–44, and K. Roy, Hinduism
and the Ethics of Warfare in South Asia: From Antiquity to the Present (Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 2012), pp. 1–39.
9 See P. Olivelle’s The Law Code of Manu (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2004), pp. xx–
xxii, and ‘Manu and the Arthaśāstra: A Study in Śāstric Intertextuality’, Journal of Indian
Philosophy 32 (2004), 281–91; M. McClish, ‘The Dependence of Manu’s Seventh Chapter
on Kautilya’s Arthaśāstra’, Journal of the American Oriental Society 134.2 (2014), 241–62.
˙

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the Common Era and attributed to a single author, Kautilya, the Arthaśāstra is
a practical manual on statecraft which contains extensive ˙ information for
kings and ministers on diplomacy, governance and war.10 As will be seen,
some of the broader didactic messages contained in the six epic chapters
correspond thematically with advice given to kings in the Arthaśāstra on how
to encourage troops to fight and die in battle. These sources are thus
attestations of a shared cultural milieu evinced by ideologically motivated
thinkers who express a direct concern with shaping the identity of warriors
and the ideals of heroism for military and political ends around the turn of the
Common Era in India.

The Śūra as Paradigmatic Heroic Warrior

MBh 12.98 opens with Yudhisthira posing a fundamental soteriological ques-
˙˙
tion to Bhı̄sma: ‘By what actions can a king win heavenly worlds?’ His
˙
concern is predicated on the fact that because kings slaughter many people
during military campaigns, then ‘no law is more evil than the law of the
martial class’ (MBh 12.98.1ab: ksatradharmān na pāpı̄yān dharmo ’sti); specifi-
˙
cally, those who rule through warfare. What follows is a sustained justifica-
tion for violence that is not only meant to edify kings but also intended to
define the identity and responsibilities of soldiers in the king’s army. Since
a strong, fearless king is unparalleled on earth, then in order to understand
the moral, social and cosmological implications of his actions, a king’s role in
battle is correlated with that of the śūra. The chapters consistently focus on
the theme of a śūra’s bravery and his ritualised death and ascension. At its
core, the truest realisation of heroism is to fight and die willingly in the front
lines of battle. For example:
Every heroic warrior inspired to sacrifice his highest, having abandoned his
life, never showing his back to the enemy, reaches the same heavenly world
as Indra. (MBh 12.98.31)

Just fifty heroic warriors who know each other well, who are riled up, who
have given up all hope of survival, and who are determined can smash an
enemy army. (MBh 12.103.20)
In the first example, heroism is defined by a warrior’s fearless self-sacrifice in
battle, which is given a soteriological justification in the concept of Indra’s
heaven. The value placed on men who fully internalise and enact heroic

10 See Olivelle, King, Governance, pp. 25–38.

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 Heroism, Military Violence, and the State in Ancient India

ideals is underscored in the second example, which conveys some of the

sentiments expressed by Marlon Brando’s character Colonel Walter E. Kurtz
in his famous ‘the horror’ speech in the 1979 film Apocalypse Now – namely,
that a small force of soldiers completely committed to the cause could win
any conflict, no matter the physical or psychological cost. A warrior’s death in
battle thus affirms his commitment to his duty and the law, both subsumed
under the concept of dharma, as well as securing his place in the heaven of
the greatest warrior of all, Indra.
The theme of obtaining heaven after dying in battle is central to MBh
12.100.1–18, which involves an ancient dialogue between two kings,
Pratardana and Janaka of Mithilā. After donning ‘a ritual thread for the
purpose of making war’ (MBh 12.100.2a: yajñopavı̄tı̄ saṃgrāme), Janaka
addresses his soldiers to motivate them, while evoking images of heaven
(svarga) and hell (naraka):
Look at these brilliantly shining celestial worlds for those who do not fear!
They overflow with Gandharva girls and furnish everything you could wish
for! They will never waste away. On the other side are these hells for those
that run away. They will fall into them immediately and endure everlasting
ignominy as well. Having seen these worlds, having resolved to give up your
lives, be victorious over the enemy and do not end up as subjects in the
bottomless hell. The unsurpassed gate into heaven rests upon the base of
heroes’ giving up their lives. (MBh 12.100.4–7ab)
Since the chapters reflect a heavily patriarchal and gendered perspective, it is
both unsurprising and informative that the slain hero will be greeted in
heaven by alluring ‘Gardharva girls’ who will fulfil his every (sexual) wish.
In the same eroticised vein, another stanza states that a bevy of celestial
nymphs or Apsarases – thousands, in fact – will beg to be his wife.11 If ever
there was a euphemism for the promise of liberal sex in ancient India, this
would be it, and of course, the fantasised incentives underlying the ideals of
heroism and bravery are self-evident. As can be seen, the promise of Indra’s
heaven and the threat of hell are deliberately used to shape the identity of
warriors, while circumscribing their choices as men.
The theme of a warrior’s heroic death takes on a personal, embodied
element as the demeanour of a śūra is characterised by an extreme tolerance

11 MBh 12.99.45: ‘Thousands of the best Apsarases rush up to the heroic warrior slain in
battle, saying “Let him be my husband”.’ Cf. MBh 8.33.55–7 and MBh 9.4.35–6. See also
M. Hara’s ‘A Note on the Phrase Dharma-Ksetre Kuru-Ksetre’, Journal of Indian Philosophy
˙ Journal of˙ Indian Philosophy 29.1/2 (2001),
27.1/2 (1999), 56–8, and ‘Apsaras and Hero’,
135–53.

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for pain and injury, which is also correlated with metaphysical rewards. For
example: ‘However many sharp blades cut his skin in battle, that many
heavenly worlds does he enjoy, heavenly worlds that fulfill his every wish
and never fade away!’ (MBh 12.98.12). According to this stanza, injuries
sustained in battle symbolise a warrior’s righteous commitment to war as
well as the guarantee of heavenly ascension. In short, a warrior literally
bleeds for heaven. It is not hard to imagine that battle wounds, and the
scars they leave, would function as badges of honour and emblematically
signify membership in a closed military world predicated on stoic toughness
and resolve in the face of physical and psychological trauma. In fact, Bhı̄sma
informs Yudhisthira that a śūra who fights vehemently, filled with ‘oaths ˙and
˙˙
rage’ (MBh 12.98.29), will take no heed of his wounds in battle. In addition, the
hero’s anticipated injuries and death in battle are elevated to the highest form
of merit-generating, religious devotion because any form of suffering that he
endures from burning wounds will produce more merit than an ascetic can
accrue from the physically gruelling practices of asceticism (MBh 12.98.13–14).
Consequently, it is ‘unrighteous’ (adharma) for a Ksatriya to die on his bed,
‘coughing up phlegm and bile, weeping pitifully’.˙ At his time of death, if
a noble warrior’s body is without any battle wounds, then his life’s deeds
receive no praise from those who ‘know the ancient ways’. Such a death is
simply ‘unmanly, unrighteous, and pitiful for proud men’, and ‘miserable,
terrible, and wicked’. A true man (vı̄ra) with any pride and self-respect does
not deserve such a death, and a Ksatriya should die in battle surrounded by
his fellow warriors with his body ˙completely disfigured by sharp weapons.
Being killed in battle is thus ‘celebrated and honoured in the world’, and due
to the ‘abundant merit’ it accrues, the warrior goes to the same heavenly
world as Indra (MBh 12.98.23–30).
The six epic chapters communicate a coherent gendered message about
how all martially inclined men should think, feel and act in relation to violent
expectations, and such values are encoded in the myth of Ksatriya excellence
˙ masculinity is
and the heroic role of the śūra. In R. W. Connell’s words, ‘True
almost always thought to proceed from men’s bodies – to be inherent in
a male body or to express something about a male body.’12 In the epic
chapters, a warrior’s body functions as a dominant symbol of core socio-
political and religious values which circumscribe a man’s sense of self-worth
and agency to the point that the only way he can demonstrate his devotion to

12 See R. W. Connell, Masculinities, 2nd edn (Berkeley: University of California Press,

2005), p. 45.

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 Heroism, Military Violence, and the State in Ancient India

dharma and the gods is by repeated acts of violence, by experiencing physical

pain, and ultimately by dying in battle. Indeed, the key characteristic of ‘all
heroic warriors’ is that they ‘have forsaken their own bodies’ in battle (MBh
12.102.13b: sarve śūrās tanutyajah). This ideology is not new: it has a much
˙
older precedent in the R̥ gveda, which states that ‘heroic champions who
abandon their bodies’ (R̥ V 10.154.3b: śū́ rāso yé tanūtyájah) and die fighting in
˙
battle rise immediately to heaven. As Nancy Scheper-Hughes and Margaret
Lock have aptly observed, aggressive warlike cultures regularly socialise men
to think of their bodies as inherently defined by violence to the point that
they cannot but think of themselves as foolhardy warriors whose self-worth
comes from protecting the socio-political and cosmic order.13 In ancient India,
to be a real/true man, a warrior must turn his body into a weapon of war to
be used against other bodies, yet ultimately this will inflict harm on himself.
The hero is nevertheless subject to the usual ethical guidelines incumbent on
Ksatriyas. He is prohibited from slaying old men, children, women,
˙
Brahmans and those who have surrendered, though he is expected to spare
no enemy combatant in battle.14 Conversely, any warrior who enters into
a kind of uncontrolled berserker rage represents the extreme of the heroic
ideal. Such men are considered to be dangerous because they ‘pay no heed to
the law’, yet in recklessly abandoning their lives in battle the king benefits
doubly from their deaths by gaining victory and in removing any potential
problems in the future (see MBh 12.102.18–20). Therefore, according to the six
chapters of the Śānti Parvan, heroic masculinity is performed and legitimised
through acts of violence and displays of physical and mental toughness rather
than being a natural consequence of biological sex. What is more, while
a hero’s body is scarred with social prestige and the promise of heaven, his life
is not his own but a tool of the army and the state.

The Ritual of Battle

The embodied ideals of personal suffering and merit are aligned with the
concept of the ‘ritual’ or ‘sacrifice of battle’ (saṃgrāma- or yuddhayajña)
wherein the gore and carnage of war are said to be sacrificial oblations.15

13 N. Scheper-Hughes and M. M. Lock, ‘The Mindful Body: A Prolegomenon to Future

Work in Medical Anthropology’, Medical Anthropology Quarterly 1.1 (1987), 6–41, at 25.
14 Such individuals can yield by placing grass in their mouths, presumably to indicate their
subordinate status as cows, or by simply stating ‘I am yours’ (MBh 12.99.47). Cf.
Gautama Dharmasūtra 10.18.
15 A. Hiltebeitel, The Ritual of Battle: Krishna in the Mahābhārata (Ithaca, NY: Cornell
University Press, 1976); D. Feller Jatavallabhula, ‘Ranayajña: The Mahābhārata War as
˙

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For example, MBh 12.99 documents an ancient dialogue between King

Ambarı̄sa and the god Indra. After dying from (presumably) natural causes,
Ambarı̄s˙a ascends to Indra’s heaven, yet is dismayed to find that one of his
˙ Sudeva by name and the lord commander of his armies (senāpati),
ministers,
dwells in a higher heavenly world because he died in battle. The king opines
somewhat incredulously to Indra that he defeated armies in battle, ruled the
earth righteously, studied religious doctrine, practised celibacy and per-
formed the correct rites for guests, ancestors and the gods. How, then,
could a warrior surpass the king in heaven? In response, Indra is clear
about the rewards and fame gained by a hero in this world and the next,
and the gist of what the god tells Ambarı̄sa can be summed up in two stanzas
˙ transcendent life of a śūra:
that quintessentially justify the violent, yet
Son, this Sudeva performed the tremendous sacrifice of battle, and so does
any other man who wages war: Every warrior equipped for battle is ritually
consecrated, and when he goes to the front of the army he gains the right to
perform the sacrifice of battle – that’s a settled conclusion.
(MBh 12.99.12–13)

To unpack Indra’s declaration, all soldiers enter into battle in a ritually

consecrated state equivalent to sacrificial patron in Vedic rites (we recall
that King Janaka dons a ‘sacred thread for battle’, further underscoring war’s
ritualised nature). Nevertheless, to bring the violent rite to its promised
conclusion of heavenly ascension, warriors must make an offering of them-
selves in the front lines of battle, which, as has been seen, is tantamount to
acting as a śūra. Consequently, Ambarı̄sa accepts Indra’s explanation and
˙
takes its injunctions to heart as ‘the perfection of warriors’ (MBh 12.99.50 cd:
yodhānām . . . siddhim).
A heroic warrior’s freely flowing blood absolves him from all accumulated
sins. Blood is but one of the bodily offerings a slain warrior can make in this
violent rite. The epic chapters describe at gory length the correlation of body
parts and martial paraphernalia with ritual implements and practices for no
other reason than to underscore that death in battle is a sacred ritualised act in
line with an ordered cosmos, however Pyrrhic such a self-sacrifice may have
been. The grisly analogies mimic the older Vedic model of secret correspon-
dences that align individual, ritual and cosmic phenomena so as to reveal the
underlying interconnected nature of the cosmos. Such secretive knowledge

a Sacrifice’, in J. Houben and K. van Kooij (eds.), Violence Denied: Violence, Non-Violence
and the Rationalization of Violence in South Asian Cultural History (Leiden: Brill, 1999), pp.
69–103; Brekke, ‘Between Prudence and Heroism’.

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grants wealth and prestige to the knower in this world and heavenly realms
and immortality after death. Consider, then, some of the epic descriptions –
cited from MBh 12.99.15–26, 30–4, 36–8 – wherein elephants and horses act as
priests; the chunks of enemy flesh and blood are food offerings and clarified
butter; carrion animals such as jackals, vultures and ravens are the recipients
of the offerings, the weapons of war are the ritual implements; cries and
shouts are liturgies; the kettle drum acts as the singer; the lines of battle are
different kinds of sacrificial altars and other significant sites on the ritual
ground; a headless corpse standing upright in the midst of the slain is the
sacrificial post of the heroic warrior; and the river of gore and carnage with
a ‘gravel bed made up of the bones of brave men’ (vı̄rāsthiśarkarā) is ‘the
concluding bath of the warrior’s great sacrifice’.16 According to Indra, the
field of battle is the sacrificial altar of heroes and for this reason they should
not be mourned. To quote the god at length:
The heroic warrior (śūra) who, for the sake of his lord, attacks at the front of
the army and does not turn back out of fear – he has heavenly worlds like
mine. He who strews the altar area with dark blue swords shaped like the
crescent moon and severed arms that look like spiked clubs – he has heavenly
worlds like mine. He who is committed to victory and expects no one to
accompany him as he penetrates into the middle of the enemy army – he has
heavenly worlds like mine . . . He who strews the altar area with the heads of
his enemies and piles of his enemies’ horses and elephants – he has heavenly
worlds like mine . . . But when a warrior is frightened and retreats and is then
slain by the enemy, he goes to the hell that has no bottom, no doubt about it.
He whose gushing blood forms a flooding river dotted with hair and flesh
and bones, he goes the highest course. But he who slays a commander of the
army and then mounts his chariot, he strides with the boldness of Visnu, he
has the wits of Br̥ haspati. He who captures an enemy leader alive, ˙ ˙ or
a warrior who sets their standard, or one who is honoured among them –
he has heavenly worlds like mine. One should never mourn for a hero (śūra)
cut down in battle; for there is nothing sad about him – the slain hero is
exalted in a heavenly world. (MBh 12.99.27–9, 35, 39–43)

The epic analogies underscore the fact that immortality can only be achieved
in the two overlapping yet socially uneven realms: the first, ritual sacrifice, is
reserved for wealthy high-class males, while the second, the ritual of battle, is

16 In some Vedic rituals an animal is tied to the ‘sacrificial post/pole’ (yūpa) before being
suffocated (note MBh 12.99.26 where a slain warrior makes his own body the post when
he protects the wealth of Brahmans). The ‘concluding bath’ (avabhr̥ tha) marks the end
of some Vedic rituals and serves to purify the sacrificial patron, his wife, and the priests
from sin.

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open to all soldiers no matter what their class status. For individual
warriors, war is a righteous act under the auspices of dharma and death
in battle is the highest form of sacrificial offering that guarantees hea-
venly ascension for the victim. Injury and death in battle are unequivocal
testaments to a warrior’s martial devotion and cosmically sanctioned
heroism. Therefore, in ideological terms, soldiers are doubly blessed as
consecrated participants in a holy rite and as its sacrificial victims, as
triumphant victors in this life and in the next. The six epic chapters thus
justify the heroism of aristocratic warriors and common soldiers by
aligning it with the ideals of the Vedic ritual tradition and by equating
death in battle with sacrifice and heavenly ascension. In no uncertain
terms, warfare is a sacred act that brings about heavenly salvation for the
courageous dead (who may not have been able to participate in and
receive the promised rewards of Vedic rituals in the first place).
However, like Indra’s heaven, the concept of the ritual of battle is
a somewhat cynical ploy because soldiers only transcend ritual and social
hierarchies by giving their lives to the army and willingly dying in the
front lines of battle.

Cowards
Another major theme consistently deployed in the chapters is the juxtaposi-
tion of the śūra’s bravery with the deplorable actions of ‘cowards’ (bhı̄ru,
literally ‘fearful’), who are considered to be ‘the lowest of men’ (MBh
12.98.15). In the din of battle, a śūra charges forward while a coward flees
under the hero’s protection, which is described as a ‘course of action
unworthy of heaven’ (MBh 12.98.19). Of course, we recall that cowards fall
into a bottomless hell if they flee in battle, and because of their pathetic
nature, ‘cowards are food for the heroic warrior’, just as predators prey on
the weak (MBh 12.100.15).17 In fact, Bhı̄sma tells Yudhisthira to ‘never give
˙
birth to vile men like these’ (MBh 12.98.20). ˙˙ effort should be
While every
made to encourage troops before and during battle (see e.g. MBh 12.101.43),
the shameful acts of craven soldiers will incur the wrath of the gods,
especially Indra, who may kill cowards through rather specific means invol-
ving sticks or stones, or by burning them with straw (MBh 12.98.22), which

17 According to MBh 12.100.14ab, ‘heroic warriors ought not to try to attack those fleeing
because of the danger they present’. The warning here is against turning your enemies
into killers with nothing to lose – an attitude not too different from that expected of
a śūra in battle.

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Fitzgerald suggests is a ‘mode of execution tantamount to burning at the

stake’.18 Indeed, the gods may cause any noble warrior who acts like a coward
to die ‘like an animal’, which would involve a pseudo-ritualistic form of
strangulation or suffocation. The underlying threat is palpable, and of course
if real people enforced such divine threats, then their acts of retribution
would be in line with the gods’ wishes. Cowardice is thus simply ‘not
approved’ (MBh 12.98.25). In social and cosmological terms, it is the single
most abhorrent thing a soldier can do.
Of course, kings, military officers and heroic warriors should work hard to
encourage men to fight and die. For example, the king should stand con-
fidently at the head of the army and arrange his chariots, elephants, cavalry
and foot soldiers according to the best fighting strategy (MBh 12.100.8). In
addition, everyone who wants victory, especially those who are ‘extremely
zealous to fight well’, should stir up the army ‘like monsters churn up the
ocean’ (MBh 12.100.11). Likewise, ‘an effort should be made to fire up even the
cowards. They should be able to stand the mere sight of the enemy’s troops,
and in proximity to them’ (MBh 12.101.43). Hence, soldiers should mutually
encourage each other, especially anyone who is dejected or languishing in the
rear. The king should also inspire his men during the height of battle by
making supporters play instruments (conch shells, horns, kettledrums, cym-
bals, etc.), as well as having them shout battle-cries and disseminate informa-
tion such as ‘the enemies have broken; the army of our allies has come; attack
without fear’ (MBh 12.101.45–7), whether or not such statements are true. The
importance placed on encouraging troops is made abundantly clear in one
section where the king makes his soldiers swear a collective oath before battle
to never abandon each other or flee the field, and to give up their lives for the
sake of victory. The oath is presented here in full.
Having caused his [i.e. the king’s] soldiers to assemble according to rank,
they should be addressed, ‘We take a solemn oath for victory in battle. We
will not abandon each other. Any of us who are afraid (bhı̄ru) must refrain
from the battle right here and now, lest they [i.e. the enemy] slaughter us by
opening breaches in our ranks after the battle has begun. Fleeing, one slays
himself and his whole side in the battle. Upon fleeing one suffers the loss of
his property, execution, ignominy, and a bad reputation. Disagreeable and
unpleasant words are the lot of the man who flees battle, his lips quivering

18 Fitzgerald, Mahābhārata, p. 743. Cf. MDhŚ 8.377, where a Vaiśya or Ksatriya who has sex
with a Brahman woman under someone’s protection should be punished ˙ in the same
manner as a Śūdra (i.e. deprived of his property, mutilated and killed) or ‘burnt with
a straw-fire’ (dagdhavyau vā katāgninā).
˙

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and his teeth chattering, having dropped all his weapons, having abandoned
his comrades when their lives were at risk. It is the same for one who has
obligated himself to the enemy. May it be so for our enemies. Those who
turn and run away are subhumans; merely increasing their number, they are
nothing in this world nor in the next. All excited the enemy will rush up to
a deserter with praise and good wishes, son, the way his friends will rush up
to a man who has just won a fight. When your enemies rejoice at your
setbacks, I think that pain is harder to endure than being killed. Understand
that the Goddess Royal Splendor is the basis of Law and of all happiness; she
goes to the enemies of cowardly men (bhı̄ru); a heroic warrior (śūra) goes to
her. We, desiring heaven, having let go of our lives to do battle, shall deserve
to gain the course of strictly observant men, whether we win victory or are
killed.’ Having sworn this oath, having completely given up their lives,
heroic men [vı̄ra; JW: ‘brave/true men’] fearlessly plunge into the enemy
army. (MBh 12.101.29–39)
While the ideals of heaven, hell and the ritual of battle encode a warrior’s
identity in lofty cosmological terms, the epic chapters detail pragmatic
incentives for men who excel on the battlefield. For example, warriors who
break through an enemy’s lines or regroup when their own lines are com-
promised should receive double pay and enjoy the food and drink of the king.
If such men command ten soldiers they are to be promoted to the command
of a hundred soldiers; and a tireless heroic warrior should be given the
command of one thousand such men (MBh 12.101.27–8). Interestingly, in
some legal texts the concept of śauryadhana (‘reward for heroism’) refers to
wealth given by a king or lord when he is pleased with a soldier or servant
who has put their life in danger or performed a brave act.19 Consequently,
while they are framed in idealistic terms, the six epic chapters are well aware
that the primary way to convince men to die in battle is to play on their sense
of self-worth and that of their comrades by aligning bravery with the promise
of financial and heavenly rewards and cowardice with the terrors of hell and
concrete social repercussions including execution. It is not hard to imagine
that in a complex lived world in which martial ideals and masculine identities
would be constantly negotiated, reproduced and reinforced, positive assur-
ances and negative threats, designed to ensure conformity, would function in
a similar manner as verbal attacks on the manliness of men today, who may
be called ‘wussies, wimps’ or other more specific sexist and homophobic
insults. In these terms, the juxtaposition of the transcendent ideals of heroism

19 See P. Olivelle, D. Brick and M. McClish, A Sanskrit Dictionary of Law and Statecraft
(Delhi: Primus Books, 2015), p. 388.

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 Heroism, Military Violence, and the State in Ancient India

and bravery with the moral and soteriological failings of cowardice repre-
sents one of the key ideological strategies for shaming men into violent acts
while forging a unified homosocial identity centred on bravery, toughness
and obedience in the face of masculine relationships and military
expectations.

Arthaśāstra
Before drawing this chapter to a close I would like to compare some of the
broader didactic messages contained in the six epic chapters with those
contained in Kautilya’s Arthaśāstra, which offers similar pragmatic advice to
the king on how˙ to convince soldiers to fight and die in his name. In
a masterful demonstration of propaganda, the king should deploy a host of
performances to rouse his men to battle (AŚ 10.3.26–47). In particular, he
should act piously before battle in front of his men by fasting and sleeping
with his weapons and mount. He should employ priests to secure victory and
the support of heaven, and should associate himself with men from honour-
able noble families who have heroic qualities (śaurya) and impeccable reputa-
tions. He should position priests and astrologers among his troops to praise
their superiority while at the same time proclaiming the king’s omniscience
and close relationship with the gods to embolden the troops and terrify the
enemy. Priests should perform victory rites for the troops while cursing the
enemy forces. The king should make his troops feel as if they are consecrated
heroic warriors (śūra) of old, who have undergone a ritual purification bath
that will secure them heaven upon their deaths in battle. If this were not
enough, bards and poets should move among the troops heralding heaven for
those who act bravely as heroes (śūra), while reinforcing the idea that cow-
ards (bhı̄ru) will be excluded from this ultimate reward. The king should
appeal to his troops’ sense of fairness by telling them that he will share the
spoils of war equally with them. The king’s general (senāpati) should inform
his troops that they will receive specific monetary rewards for killing indivi-
dual targets such as the enemy king, heroes, corps leaders, cavalrymen and
individual infantrymen. Lastly, when arrayed for battle, he should station
physicians for his men to see, as well as women who will supply food, drink
and encouragement. However, the strategic expediency of these tactics,
designed to instil confidence and loyalty in the troops, is made all too clear,
as the king should show himself to his troops by riding in a chariot or on an
elephant, but a man disguised as the king should ride at the head of the army
into battle. As far as I know, Bhı̄sma never divulges this little secret to
˙

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Yudhisthira in the Mahābhārata, though we can reasonably speculate that the

˙˙
prescriptions, expectations and ritual practices, which are described at length
in MBh 12.98–103 and deliberately designed to shape the actions and identities
of soldiers, would underlie the kinds of information that Kautilya suggests in
passing should be used to encourage troops before battle. ˙

Conclusion
The six epic chapters – MBh 12.98–103 – provide us with the clearest account
of what is entailed by the concept of heroism and who exactly is a hero in
India’s Classical Age (at least according to the author(s) of the chapters). The
concept of heroism is defined by the superlative martial actions of the śūra,
the heroic warrior par excellence, and his unwavering displays of bravery in
the face of daunting or impossible odds. Indeed, this martial ideal is stated in
absolute, if not paternalistic terms:
Like children, all in the world depend upon the arms of heroic warriors,
always. So heroic warriors deserve honour under all conditions. In all the
three worlds there is found nothing that is superior to the hero’s fighting
[śaurya; JW: ‘heroism; heroic power’]. The heroic warrior protects every-
thing; everything depends upon the heroic warrior. (MBh 12.100.17–18)
In the context of the six epic chapters, heroism is a deeply gendered concept
available exclusively to men willing to risk their lives in battle, and is
considered to be culturally normative as part of the widespread myth of
Ksatriya excellence. Since this gendered ideology appears to be culturally and
˙
politically dominant, at least in our Sanskrit sources, then perhaps it repre-
sents a form of hegemonic masculinity which required all martially inclined
men to position themselves in relation to it. As R. W. Connell states,
‘Hegemonic masculinity is always constructed in relation to various subor-
dinated masculinities as well as in relation to women’.20 In the epic chapters
the heroic ideal is consistently juxtaposed with the failed masculinity of
cowards and the supportive, yet subordinate role of females, whether family
members or heavenly nymphs. Consequently, if a man was recognised to be
a śūra – that is, to have successfully enacted some of the values of this hyper-
masculine ideal – then his performance would yield social power and dom-
inance in the forms of wealth and fame, as well as legal and religious
legitimation. According to Simon Brodbeck, the concepts of personal fame

20 R. W. Connell, Gender and Power: Society, the Person, and Sexual Politics (Stanford, CA:
Stanford University Press, 1987), p. 183.

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 Heroism, Military Violence, and the State in Ancient India

and renown (yaśas, kı̄rti) play a significant role for the warrior class through-
out the epic and reflect a masculine economy of prestige in which ‘popularity,
fame and fortune’ are presented ‘as natural goals’ for warriors, whose honour
and reputation are paramount and must be earned and protected through
repeated acts of aggression.21 As Kr̥ sna explains to Pāndava Arjuna in
a famous section of the epic known ˙as˙ the Bhagavad Gı̄tā˙ ˙ (2.34), ‘for one
who has been honoured, dishonour is worse than death’. As has been shown,
the six epic chapters underscore the threat of public shame and punishment
because if a warrior flees the battlefield then he will suffer ‘the loss of
property, execution, ignominy, and a bad reputation’ (MBh 12.101.31). In
these terms, while there is no shame in being wounded in war, it would be
a moral and soteriological failure to not be injured or killed in battle.
Consequently, a warrior’s body is his most valuable asset for achieving
fame, fortune and a blissful afterlife in a violent marketplace: it is his primary
means to the dividends of patriarchy, but it comes with the highest price.
Since acts of bravery grant a warrior rewards such as fame and wealth in
this world and heavenly ascension in the afterlife, we can think of heroism in
ancient India as a transcendent ideal. That is to say, heroism can only be
achieved within the framework of the military, in the chaos of battle.
Conversely, heroism cannot be achieved through world-renouncing asceti-
cism or in the domestic realm of the ancient Indian ‘householder’, whose
lifelong duties involve being married, typically to one woman, having male
children and patronising ritual sacrifices.22 Since the domestic realm is also
considered to be the domain of women, then the ideals of heroism reflect
a form of masculinity that offers certain life choices unavailable to females.23
Heroic masculinity also transcends social norms because it affords certain
privileges for the slain warrior’s family who are excused from making food
offerings or libations, from taking a purifying bath, and from observing any
period of impurity (MBh 12.99.44). While it may have been a small

21 See S. Brodbeck, ‘Myth and Ideology of the Imperial Ksatriya: Viewing the
Mahābhārata from here and now’, Journal of Vaishnava Studies 14.2 (2006), 98–9.
22 Outside of the six epic chapters, broader uses of the concept of heroism appear. For
example, according to MBh 7.133.23, Ksatriyas are ‘heroes’ on account of their arms and
Brahman priests (‘twice-born’) are ˙ ‘heroes’ on account of their words/speech.
Likewise, in the Yājñavalkya Smr̥ ti (1.324) a warrior’s death in battle and heavenly
ascension is correlated with the achievement of ascetics, who gain heaven from yogic
practices.
23 The epic contains the famous story of the jilted female Ambā, who seeks revenge on
the warrior Bhı̄sma by being reborn as a man who can eventually fight him in battle.
See A. Custodi,˙ ‘“Show You Are a Man!” Transexuality and gender bending in the
characters of Arjuna/Br̥ hannadā and Ambā/Śikhandin(ı̄)’, in S. Brodbeck and B. Black
˙˙
(eds.), Gender and Narrative in the Mahābhārata (London: Routledge, 2007), pp. 208–29.

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consolation, the fact that a warrior’s family gains the benefit of not having to
observe a state of mourning or impurity may have contributed to family
members’ sense of pride and conviction in sending a beloved son or husband
to war.24 Indeed, in the eleventh book of the Mahābharata, entitled the Strı̄
Parvan (Book of the Women), grieving mothers of slain warriors express their
sorrow for their sons’ deaths in battle. Some of the mothers even express
pride in encouraging a violent death because it ultimately protected the
family and its lineage, as well as granting their sons access to heaven with
all its rewards. Conversely, some wives express jealousy and disdain at their
slain husbands since they have left them behind and get to enjoy the company
of nymphs in heaven (see e.g. MBh 11.20.22–5). Consequently, female char-
acters, particularly the wives and mothers of epic heroes, are portrayed as key
proponents who enforce a man’s duty to fight in battle while preparing him
for an honourable death.25 This ideal is underscored at MBh 5.131–4, which
narrates a conversation between the noblewoman Vidurā and her son
Saṃjaya (‘Victory’), wherein she scolds him for being dejected on account
of his defeat in a prior battle. After chastising him by questioning his
parentage (‘neither I nor your father begot you!’), manhood (‘you are
a man with the tools of a eunuch!’) and courage (‘get up, coward, don’t lie
there defeated’), she demands that Saṃjaya live up to his name by fighting
and dying in battle. To quote part of her scathing reprimand: ‘May no woman
ever bear a son like you, without anger, without enterprise, without man-
hood, the joy of your enemies! Don’t smolder – blaze up. Attack with
vengeance and slay the enemies’ (MBh 5.131.28–9). The didactic function of
this story is stated in no uncertain terms: if a pregnant woman hears it then
she will give birth to a brave and virile son (vı̄ra) who will become a heroic
warrior (śūra) able to conquer his enemies (MBh 5.134.17–21). The heroic ideal,
with its promise of worldly fame and heavenly ascension, thus caters directly
to the martial class and soldiers from lower classes because it offers
a transcendent path – a śaurya mārga – that surpasses normative morality,
duty and social hierarchies while at the same time it subverts states of ritual

24 Cf. MDhŚ 5.98: ‘When a man is killed in battle with upraised weapons according to the
Ksatriya law, the settled rule is that for him both sacrifice and purification are
˙
accomplished instantly’ (trans. Olivelle, Law Code of Manu, p. 92).
25 For the role of epic women and their investment in the martial ideology, see Brodbeck,
‘Myth and Ideology’, p. 95. I would like to express my thanks here to John Taylor, who
read the section ‘Law, Force, and War’ with me in my advanced Sanskrit course
(autumn 2013), and to Molly Dunn, who drew my attention to the lamentations of
high-born women in the Strı̄ Parvan and their active role in communicating warrior
ideals to their husbands and sons (Mahābhārata course, spring 2014).

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 Heroism, Military Violence, and the State in Ancient India

purity and ascetic liberation. In these terms, the six epic chapters completely
undermine, if not outright reject, the validity of competing modes of social
and religious life for warriors, whether low- or high-born.
Unfortunately, because our sources are deeply influenced by the ideologi-
cal and theological concerns of the priestly Brāhmanical tradition, it is
impossible to know if the ideals of heroism presented in ˙the six epic chapters
document the practices and beliefs of actual martial groups or reflect the
rarefied machinations of individuals, whose primary goal is to instruct the
king. It may be the case that the chapters represent a reality somewhere
between the two scenarios and document the attempt of politically minded
Brahmans and royal councillors to insert themselves into the existing prac-
tices of different martial groups. If the ideals of heroism in some degree were
current among martial groups or tribes, then presumably they contributed to
group cohesion and the enforcement of a circumscribed masculine identity
that demanded bravery and toughness in potentially deadly situations.
Nevertheless, while heroism functions as a dominant expression of hegemo-
nic masculinity, it is likely that only a minority of men would have been able
to embody or enact its ideals while alive, though presumably some men were
afforded the title ‘hero’ after being killed in the front lines of battle. On the
other hand, many more men were probably able to capitalise on the indirect
benefits of hegemonic masculinity in the form of social prestige and wealth,
as well as demonstrating their commitment to dharma and the gods by
serving in the army or by being members of a warrior band.
Finally, Bhı̄sma’s core political message to Yudhisthira is easy to infer;
namely, that as ˙ a major stakeholder the king should˙˙ take a direct role in
propagating the hyper-masculine ideals of heroism because they are so
closely intertwined with the goals of the army and the state: according to
the chapters, they reinforce each other. Heroism thus functions as a key
ideological tool of the state and the chapters skilfully interweave individual,
ethical, ritual and cosmological ideals in a tour de force of militarised
propaganda. In other words, the chapters are clear that to edify and manip-
ulate real bodies, the body politic must take a direct role in shaping the
identities of warriors. In terms of the underlying goal of the six epic chapters,
heroism is a fundamental ideal the king must propagate in order to define the
identity of his troops, to secure victory and to absolve himself from any
soteriological failings.26 Consequently, the state should be directly invested in

26 At MBh 12.103.4 the king can perform a series of ritual expiations (prāyaścittavidhi) to
absolve himself of any sins accrued in war. Cf. MBh 12.98.3. On this issue, see Feller
Jatavallabhula, ‘Ranayajña’, 78. Cf. MDhŚ 5.94–5.
˙

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the process of constructing and disseminating the ideals of heroism for its
own political and military needs. With this said, while heroism plays a direct
role in securing the king’s transcendent sovereignty – that is, his state of
political dominance and metaphysical absolution – the king suffers
a somewhat different fate than his loyal soldiers.27

Bibliographic Essay
The identity of warriors, the role of the Ksatriya class and the concept of heroism in
ancient India has received some scholarly ˙ attention. For an early treatment see
E. Hopkins, ‘The Social and Military Position of the Ruling Caste in Ancient India, as
Represented by the Sanskrit Epic’, Journal of the American Oriental Society 13 (1889), 57–376.
More recently, M. Hara has dedicated several short studies to the issue of warrior identity:
‘A Note on the Rāksasa Form of Marriage’, Journal of the American Oriental Society 94.3
(1974), 296–306; ‘A ˙Note on the Phrase Dharma-Ksetre Kuru-Ksetre’, Journal of Indian
Philosophy 27.1/2 (1999), 56–8; and ‘Apsaras and Hero’, ˙ Journal of ˙Indian Philosophy 29.1/2
(2001), 135–53. For a survey of issues relating to warfare see J. Whitaker, ‘Warfare in
Ancient India’, in B. Meissner et al. (eds.), The Cambridge History of War, vol.I , War and the
Ancient World (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2020). On the supernatural nature
of epic heroes and their weaponry see J. Whitaker’s ‘Divine Weapons and Tejas in the Two
Indian Epics’, Indo-Iranian Journal 43.2 (2000), 87–113, and ‘How the Gods Kill: The
Nārāyana Astra Episode, the Death of Rāvana, and the Principles of Tejas in the Indian
Epics’, ˙Journal of Indian Philosophy 30.4 (2002),˙ 403–30.
While the concept of heroism in ancient India has received some scholarly attention, it
has been poorly defined. For a critical reflection see J. Whitaker, Strong Arms and Drinking
Strength: Masculinity, Violence, and the Body in Ancient India (Oxford: Oxford University
Press, 2011), pp. 59–62. The Sanskrit terms vı̄ra and vı̄rya are typically translated as ‘hero’
and ‘heroism’ respectively, but I have argued that in the R̥ gveda they convey an explicitly
gendered meaning as ‘virile/brave man’ and ‘virility, manliness, masculine power’, while
the term śū́ ra designates the true heroic champion (Strong Arms and Drinking Strength, pp.
59–108 and 109–31). For further consideration see J. Whitaker, ‘I Boldly Took the Mace
(Vájra) for Might: Ritually Weaponizing a Warrior’s Body in Ancient India’, International
Journal of Hindu Studies 20.1 (2016), 51–94. Likewise, vı̄ra and śūra are frequently conflated in
the secondary literature: see H. Brückner et al. (eds.), The Concept of Hero in Indian Culture
(New Delhi: Manohar, 2007), which lacks any critical analysis of the exact nature of
heroism; Brückner (p. x) states somewhat naively that the Sanskrit words vı̄ra, marya,
śūra/śūla and malla mean ‘hero’ and correspond to the ancient Greek term hé rōs (following
Sontheimer); cf. Bollée (pp. 1–5) in the same volume. According to K. McGrath, The
Sanskrit Hero: Karna in the Mahābhārata (Leiden: Brill, 2004), no substantive semantic
˙
differences exist between vı̄ra and śūra in the Mahābhārata (see pp. 23, 55), yet elsewhere

27 At AŚ 9.1.1–16 kings are warned against seeking individual glory in battle and should
play a long-term game to maintain political supremacy, involving diplomacy, trade and
subterfuge.

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he notes that although displaying close synonymy, the term vı̄ra is best translated as
‘warrior’, whereas śūra means ‘hero’ (p. 28, n.8). While the six epic chapters are not
indicative of the whole epic, a clear semantic distinction can be seen in the use of vı̄ra and
śūra. In this vein, P. Caracchi has drawn a more definitive conclusion about the meaning of
vı̄ra and śūra in medieval bhakti texts of the Sant tradition; namely, that śūra denotes ‘hero’:
‘The Hero in Sant Tradition’, in Alessandro Monti (ed.), Hindu Masculinities Across the Ages:
Updating the Past (Torino: L’Harmattan Italia, 2002), pp. 223–45.

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