'Aakraman!' roar the maharathis on the attack as they race to raze the enemy.

आक्रमण

'Attack all attachments, O Arjuna!'  the stern voice of Krishna, my charioteer steers away any self-wavering.

kreedanniva — as though playing — we are warriors in the slaying.

My erstwhile guru Bheeshma brandishes his deadly bow like a toy, rushing towards me, piercing me with his arrows — the physical pain exhilarates my psyche for I unwavering am become the target of my Pitamah's eye — unwavering I fire back a volley of veneration under which the Elder too wavers not.

On all sides seasoned warriors spring forth red, like Kimshuka blossoms, their summary a scorched earth; a blood-fall tasting of autumnal rust — wither warm bodies to frozen rigor.

The ranbhoomi rebounds with raudric rhythms of rage and revanche.

Time has run out for the reaching out in peace and concessions to a breed of greed, sown is the hateful seed by Duryodhana.

'Behold Bhibatsu! He blinds the enemy in a flash of lightning, deafened by his thunder-blast! Haloed by clouds of black curls— hail to the daring dark hero, son of Indra!'

I salute the salutations of my soldiers, humbled by their love and loyalty.

🏹

I from times past watch you reading the battle scenes where I,  Arjuna draw the strings of Gandiva: like mridangam to mine ear and mrtyu dandam that foes fear.

'And the uproar of that ocean having arrows for its crocodiles, bows for its snakes, swords for its tortoises, and the forward leaps of the warriors for its tempest, resembled the din made by the ocean itself when agitated'

Salutations to Vyasa for his valorous verse!

🏹

I now the actor present:

The camera pans to my face - I watch, waiting.

My immaculate charioteer watches, impassive.

The extras watch, while they continue to clash and clamour in CGI.

I watch you waiting, with bated breath...yes you the viewers.

You, do you secretly admire the swagger of Duryodhana? It should be fun at the office party tomorrow, eh? Perhaps a game or two?

https://youtu.be/q4c-17g9KOo

You, pretending to do your home-work — wielding rubber-band and pencil, until it snaps you out of your Arjuna fantasy!

You, old man dozing on the sofa, dreaming of Bheeshma — how much have you sacrificed for your family, kept your promises just for them to fritter it all away?

You, there smiling at that smile of that Charioteer — getting carried away!