whose wheels had sunk in the earth.  The whole of that host, O Bharata, resembling the ocean for vastness, then became agitated, and afflicted, inspired with terror, with the exception only of Drona and Arjuna.  Those two became the refuge, these two became the saviours, of the warriors of their respective sides.  Others, encountering these two proceeded to the abode of Yama.  Then the vast host of the Kurus became greatly agitated, and the Panchalas, huddled together, became no longer distinguishable.  During that great carnage of the Kshatriyas on earth, on that field of battle, enhancing the terrors of the timid and looking like a crematorium neither Karna, nor Drona, nor Arjuna, nor Yudhishthira, nor Bhimasena, nor the twins, nor the Panchala prince, nor Satyaki, nor Duhsasana, nor Drona’s son, nor Duryodhana nor Suvala’s son, nor Kripa, nor the ruler of the Madras, nor Kritavarman, nor others, nor my own self, nor the earth, nor points of the compass, could be seen, O king, for all of them, mingled with the troops, were shrouded by clouds of dust.  During the progress of that fierce and terrible battle, when that dusty cloud arose, all thought that night had once more come over the scene.  Neither the Kauravas, nor the Panchalas, nor the Pandavas, could be distinguished, nor the points of the compass, nor the welkin, nor the earth, nor even land nor uneven land.  The warriors, desirous of victory, slew foes and friends, in fact, all whom they could perceive by the touch of their hands.  The earthly dust that had arisen was soon dispelled by the winds that blew, and drenched by the blood that was shed.  Elephants and steeds and car-warriors and foot-soldiers, bathed in blood, looked beautiful like the (celestial) forest of Parijata.  Then Duryodhana, Karna, Drona and Duhsasana, these four (Kauravas) warriors engaged in battle with four of the Pandava warriors, Duryodhana and his brothers, encountered the twins (Nakula and Sahadeva).  And Radha’s son engaged himself with Vrikodara, and Arjuna with the son of Bharadwaja, all the troops, from every side, looked on that terrible encounter.  The car-warriors (of both armies quietly) beheld that beautiful, that superhuman engagement between those fierce and foremost of car-warriors conversant with every mode of warfare, riding on their own beautiful cars that performed diverse delightful evolutions.  Endued with great prowess, struggling vigorously, and each solicitous of vanquishing the other, they covered each other with showers of shafts, like the clouds at the close of summer (pouring torrents of rain).  Those bulls among men, riding on their cars of solar effulgence, looked beautiful like congregated masses of clouds in the autumnal sky.  Then those warriors, O monarch, filled with wrath and desire of revenge, mighty bowmen all, challenging, rushed at one another with great vigour like infuriated leaders of elephantine herds.  Verily, O king, death does not take place till its hour comes, since all those