After Kurukshetra – Section 1: The End of the War
The Kurukshetra war had lasted for eighteen days. What began as a dynastic dispute over the throne of Hastinapura had turned into a cosmic struggle between Dharma and Adharma, a war that drew in gods, sages, kings, warriors, and countless innocents. By the end of the eighteenth day, the great battlefield that had once roared with conch shells, drums, and the cries of warriors lay silent, except for the groans of the wounded and the cries of widows who searched for their dead.
The Pandavas had technically won, but victory was bitter, almost indistinguishable from defeat. The Kauravas had been destroyed, their brothers slain, their armies annihilated. Yet the Pandavas themselves had lost almost everyone they loved—friends, allies, teachers, and even their sons. Before Yudhishthira could ascend the throne, one final act of violence awaited: the fall of Duryodhana.
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The Fall of Duryodhana
On the eighteenth day, Duryodhana, broken and exhausted, fled from the battlefield after seeing his army annihilated. Yet he did not seek cowardly escape; instead, he wished to spend his final moments in meditation. He entered a nearby lake, using his mystic powers to remain underwater, hoping to cool his body and his mind.
The Pandavas, led by Bhima and Krishna, searched for him. Ashwatthama, Kripa, and Kritavarma had already withdrawn, and most surviving Kaurava warriors were either slain or had deserted. A group of hunters revealed Duryodhana's hiding place. When the Pandavas arrived, Krishna urged them not to delay.
> "He still lives," Krishna reminded them, "and so long as he draws breath, danger remains. Duryodhana is skilled, proud, and dangerous. He must be faced now, before he regains strength."
The Pandavas challenged Duryodhana to come out of the lake. Bound by Kshatriya honor, he could not refuse. Emerging from the water, his body glistening like molten copper, Duryodhana stood tall and unbent. Though wounded and broken, his pride had not diminished.
He addressed the Pandavas with a mixture of scorn and dignity:
> "You call yourselves victors? You who relied on deceit, trickery, and Krishna's cunning? I stand alone, my brothers slain, my friends gone. Yet I do not bow. Choose one among you to fight me in single combat. If I fall, I fall as a Kshatriya, with honor. But if I win, know that I was always the true heir of this throne."
The Pandavas were silent for a moment. Yudhishthira, who still bore some respect for his cousin despite the horrors, spoke:
> "Duryodhana, you have been the cause of this war. You deceived, you schemed, you refused every chance for peace. Yet you speak of honor. So be it—choose your opponent. The Pandavas will not strike at a man without giving him his due."
Without hesitation, Duryodhana chose Bhima. He had always known that the second Pandava was his greatest rival, and Bhima had sworn to break his thighs for the insult Duryodhana once gave Draupadi in the court.
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The Mace Duel
Thus began one of the most memorable duels of the epic—the gada-yuddha (mace fight) between Bhima and Duryodhana. The two warriors, both towering and powerful, took up heavy maces, their iron heads gleaming in the fading sunlight.
The ground trembled as they circled each other, their weapons crashing with sounds like thunderclaps. Each blow was so powerful that the earth beneath their feet cracked, and sparks flew as metal struck metal. The duel lasted long, each fighter drenched in sweat, their bodies bruised and bleeding.
Bhima's fury was unmatched, but Duryodhana's skill was superior. He had trained under Balarama himself, Krishna's elder brother, who was considered the greatest mace fighter of the age. Duryodhana's movements were swift and precise, his footwork flawless. Time and again, Bhima staggered under his cousin's blows, his body reeling from the strikes.
The Pandavas grew anxious, and Krishna watched carefully. At one point, Duryodhana struck Bhima so hard that the mace nearly slipped from his hands. The Pandavas gasped, fearing the worst.
It was then that Krishna gave Bhima a subtle signal—reminding him of his vow. Years earlier, when Draupadi was insulted in the Kuru court and Duryodhana had slapped his thigh mockingly, Bhima had sworn that one day he would break those very thighs. The rules of mace fighting forbade striking below the waist, but Krishna reminded Bhima that vows and Dharma were not always bound by technicalities.
Strengthened by the reminder, Bhima roared like a lion. He feigned weakness, lured Duryodhana into overconfidence, and then, with a sudden leap, swung his mace with all his might—not at Duryodhana's chest or shoulders, but at his thighs.
The crack echoed across Kurukshetra. Duryodhana screamed in agony as his legs shattered, and he fell to the ground, writhing.
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Duryodhana's Defiance
The Pandavas rejoiced, but their joy was bitter. They looked down at their cousin, once the proud prince of Hastinapura, now broken on the battlefield.
Bhima placed his foot on Duryodhana's chest in triumph, but Krishna stopped him.
> "Enough, Bhima. He has fallen. Do not dishonor him further. Remember, he fought bravely until the end."
Duryodhana, gasping, raised his voice:
> "You think you have won? No—victory is mine. I fall not in defeat but in glory. My brothers, my friends, my teachers—they fought with me, and together we have attained heaven. You Pandavas, though alive, are cursed. You have slain your kin, your elders, your sons. You will live, but your life will be sorrow. You will sit on the throne, but your hearts will burn. Remember, Bhima, you broke the rules of combat. Remember, Yudhishthira, your victory was won by deceit. Remember, Arjuna, without Krishna you are nothing. Remember, Nakula and Sahadeva, you are shadows in your brothers' light. I, Duryodhana, die as a Kshatriya—unbowed, unbroken in spirit. In death, I am greater than you in life."
These words, harsh and bitter, pierced the Pandavas more deeply than any weapon. For though Duryodhana had been the cause of endless suffering, there was truth in his defiance. The Pandavas looked at one another, weighed down by the cost of their "victory."
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Balarama's Anger
At that very moment, Balarama, Krishna's elder brother, arrived on the battlefield. He had been absent during the war, choosing neutrality, but now he had returned from pilgrimage. Seeing Duryodhana lying on the ground with broken thighs, Balarama's eyes blazed with fury.
> "Bhima!" he thundered. "You have broken the sacred rules of combat! Striking below the waist in mace fighting is forbidden! You are no warrior—you are a cheat! For this, you deserve to be slain."
The Pandavas trembled, for Balarama was immensely powerful, and none of them could have stood against him. He raised his plough weapon, ready to attack Bhima.
Krishna, however, stepped forward, calming his brother:
> "Balarama, noble elder, remember the cause of this war. Remember how Duryodhana schemed, insulted, and brought ruin upon the Kuru dynasty. Bhima's act was not cowardice but justice. He fulfilled a vow, and Dharma has many paths, not all bound by rigid rules. Let Duryodhana's fate stand. Let this be the end."
Balarama, though seething, respected Krishna's words. He cast one last glance of sorrow at his beloved student Duryodhana, then departed, unwilling to intervene further.
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Duryodhana's Death
As night fell, Duryodhana's breaths grew shallow. His body, crushed and broken, trembled as life slipped away. Alone, abandoned, yet still proud, he closed his eyes and whispered a final prayer.
The war was over. The Kaurava prince who had once dreamed of ruling the world now lay lifeless on the battlefield, his ambitions shattered.
But Kurukshetra's soil was not yet done drinking blood. For even after Duryodhana's fall, vengeance burned in the heart of one last warrior—Ashwatthama, the son of Drona.