The Charanas fleet as air, seeing the Kuru king, became filled with delight.  Surrounded by the Pandavas, thy son, the Kuru king, proceeded, assuming the tread of an infuriated elephant.  All the points of the compass were filled with the blare of conchs and the loud peals of drums and the leonine roars of heroes.  Proceeding with face westwards to the appointed spot, with thy son (in their midst), they scattered themselves on every side when they reached it.  That was an excellent tirtha on the southern side of the Sarasvati.  The ground there was not sandy and was, therefore, selected for the encounter.  Clad in armour, and armed with his mace of gigantic thickness, Bhima, O monarch, assumed the form of the mighty Garuda.  With head-gear fastened on his head, and wearing an armour made of gold, licking the corners of his mouth, O monarch, with eyes red in wrath, and breathing hard, thy son, on that field, O king, looked resplendent like the golden Sumeru.  Taking up his mace, king Duryodhana of great energy, casting his glances on Bhimasena, challenged him to the encounter like an elephant challenging a rival elephant.  Similarly, the valiant Bhima, taking up his adamantine mace, challenged the king like a lion challenging a lion.  Duryodhana and Bhima, with uplifted maces, looked in that bottle like two mountains with tall summits.  Both of them were exceedingly angry; both were possessed of awful prowess; in encounters with the mace both were disciples of Rohini’s intelligent son, both resembled each other in their feats and looked like Maya and Vasava.  Both were endued with great strength, both resembled Varuna in achievements.  Each resembling Vasudeva, or Rama, or Visravana’s son (Ravana), they looked, O monarch, like Madhu and Kaitabha.  Each like the other in feats, they looked like Sunda and Upasunda, or Rama and Ravana, or Vali and Sugriva.  Those two scorchers of foes looked like Kala and Mrityu.  They then ran towards each other like two infuriated elephants, swelling with pride and mad with passion in the season of autumn and longing for the companionship of a she-elephant in her time.  Each seemed to vomit upon the other the poison of his wrath like two fiery snakes.  Those two chastisers of foes cast the angriest of glances upon each other.  Both were tigers of Bharata’s race, and each was possessed of great prowess.  In encounters with the mace, those two scorchers of foes were invincible like lions.  Indeed, O bull of Bharata’s race, inspired with desire of victory, they looked like two infuriated elephants.  Those heroes were unbearable, like two tigers accoutred with teeth and claws.  They were like two uncrossable oceans lashed into fury and bent upon the destruction of creatures, or like two angry Suns risen for consuming everything.  Those two mighty car-warriors looked like an Eastern and a Western cloud agitated by the wind, roaring awfully and pouring torrents of rain in the rainy season.  Those two high-souled and mighty heroes,