War with Panchala

In the grand city of Hastinapur, the air was thick with the clamor of preparation as the 106 Kuru princes—Kauravas and Pandavas alike—readied for war against Panchala to fulfill Guru Dronacharya's gurudakshina.

The palace courtyards echoed with the clanging of swords, the twang of bowstrings, and the trumpeting of war elephants, as warriors honed their skills under the watchful eyes of Dronacharya and Kula Guru Kripacharya.

Duryodhana, leading the Kauravas, burned with determination to prove his worth, his mace gleaming as he trained alongside his brothers—Dushasana, Vikarna, Yuyutsu, and others.

The Pandavas, led by Yudhishthira, Bhima, Arjuna, Nakula, and Sahadeva, prepared with equal fervor, their rivalry with the Kauravas simmering beneath their shared purpose. Each prince believed they could deliver Drupad to Dronacharya's feet, securing glory and the guru's favor.

As the army marched toward Panchala, a vast force of chariots, cavalry, elephants, and infantry, the plains of Aryavrat trembled under their might. Duryodhana rode at the forefront, his armor glinting, his mace resting across his shoulder, while Arjuna's chariot, drawn by white steeds, followed closely.

Bhima's massive frame towered over his troops, his mace a promise of destruction, while Yudhishthira's calm strategizing guided the formation. The journey to Kampilya, Panchala's capital, was swift, the Kurus' resolve sharpened by their guru's command.

Upon reaching Panchala's borders, the Kuru army faced Drupad's formidable seven akshauhini sena, a disciplined force renowned for its ferocity and the king's mastery of illusion arts.

As the battle commenced, Drupad unleashed his Chakra Vyuh, a spiraling formation of warriors that swirled like a vortex, designed to trap and overwhelm invaders. The Kuru princes, trained by Dronacharya, recognized the formation, having studied its intricacies under his tutelage.

Arjuna, his voice clear above the war cries, shouted, "Brothers, the Chakra Vyuh! We know its paths—strike the outer rings, disrupt the rhythm, and break through to the center!"

The Pandavas led the charge, Arjuna's arrows slicing through Panchala's outer ranks, each shaft finding its mark with deadly precision. Bhima roared, his mace crushing shields and armor, carving a path through the formation's first layer. Nakula and Sahadeva, wielding twin swords, danced through the chaos, their blades a blur as they flanked the enemy.

Duryodhana, undaunted, led the Kauravas, his mace a whirlwind of destruction, smashing through spearmen and chariots. "Push forward, brothers!" he bellowed. "We'll not let the Pandavas claim this glory! Drupad is ours!"

The battle raged for hours, the Chakra Vyuh's spirals tightening around the Kurus. Drupad's archers loosed volleys from hidden positions, while his cavalry charged in waves, their lances gleaming. Arjuna countered with the Vayvayastra, summoning winds that scattered arrows, while Bhima's raw strength shattered the formation's core, forcing gaps in the vyuh.

Duryodhana, with Dushasana at his side, targeted the commanders, his mace felling captains with each swing. Yet, the vyuh reformed, its illusions weaving false soldiers that confused the Kurus, causing some to strike at shadows.

Yudhishthira, atop his chariot, called out, "Stay focused, brothers! The illusions are Drupad's trick—watch for the true warriors by their movements!"

After grueling combat, the Kurus breached the vyuh's heart, reaching Kampilya's fortified gates. Drupad, clad in golden armor, stood atop the ramparts, his bow drawn, his voice mocking. "Kuru whelps, you think to challenge me? My illusions will break your spirits before my arrows break your bodies!"

With a gesture, he conjured a mirage—ten identical Drupads appeared, each wielding a bow, their movements synchronized, their laughter echoing. The Kurus faltered, their weapons raised against the doppelgangers, unsure which was real.

Duryodhana, sweat streaming down his face, fought through the illusions, his mace shattering one false Drupad after another, only for them to reform. His strength waned, his breaths heavy, as the duplicates taunted him, their arrows grazing his armor.

In his frustration, Bahubali's cryptic message flashed in his mind: *"I stand surrounded by my own false reflections, each a perfect, shimmering twin. They see me, yet they are not me, and I, the one true form, am also seen by them."* His eyes narrowed, clarity dawning. "The illusions… they look to the real one," he muttered. Scanning the figures, he noticed their eyes—nine gazed at one, their glances subtle but revealing. The true Drupad stood slightly apart, his bowstring taut, his gaze commanding.

Duryodhana roared, "There you are, Drupad!" He charged, ignoring the illusions, his mace raised. Drupad loosed arrows, but Duryodhana dodged, his focus unbreakable. The illusions lunged, their blades grazing him, but he pressed forward, his mace crashing into Drupad's shield, splintering it.

The king countered with a sword, his strikes swift, but Duryodhana's strength prevailed. After a fierce exchange, Duryodhana landed a blow to Drupad's chest, knocking him to the ground. Before Drupad could rise, Duryodhana bound him with ropes, his voice triumphant. "Panchala falls, Drupad! You're mine, and my guru's dakshina is secured!"

The Pandavas, fighting nearby, froze, their faces darkening with scorn. Arjuna, his bow lowered, muttered, "Duryodhana… he stole our chance." Bhima growled, "That braggart claims the glory we fought for!"

Yudhishthira remained silent, his eyes troubled, while Nakula and Sahadeva exchanged frustrated glances. They had battled fiercely, believing they would deliver Drupad to Dronacharya, yet Duryodhana's cunning had outpaced them.

Duryodhana dragged the bound Drupad through the battlefield, his brothers cheering, and presented him to Dronacharya outside Kampilya's gates. The guru, his face stern, gazed at his old friend, now humbled. "Drupad, do you remember our days under my father's tutelage? You swore that half of all you had would be mine, a bond of friendship you broke with your pride. Now, I claim my due. Half your kingdom—northern Panchala—will be ruled by my son, Ashwatthama, as its king. Do you accept this, or shall the Kurus continue their assault?"

Drupad, his head bowed, his voice bitter but resigned, spoke, "Drona, you've won through your students' might. I accept your terms—northern Panchala is yours, and Ashwatthama its king. But know this: my defeat is not my end. Panchala will rise again, and I'll not forget this day."

Dronacharya nodded, his expression unyielding. "So be it, Drupad. Your word binds you, as mine binds me to dharma. Ashwatthama, step forward." The coronation was swift, conducted amidst the battlefield's dust, with priests chanting mantras as Ashwatthama was anointed king of northern Panchala, his sword raised to the cheers of the Kauravas.

Duryodhana clapped his shoulder, his voice proud. "You've earned this, Ashwatthama, as I've earned my guru's pride. Let the Pandavas stew in their failure!"

The Pandavas, watching from a distance, seethed. Arjuna clenched his fists, his voice low. "Brothers, we fought as fiercely, broke the vyuh, yet Duryodhana claims the victory. This is unjust—he seeks only to outshine us, not honor our guru."

Bhima snarled, "That mace-wielding braggart! We should've reached Drupad first. His triumph mocks us!"

Yudhishthira, ever calm, spoke softly, "Peace, brothers. Duryodhana's deed serves our guru, and that is the purpose. Our time will come. Let's return to Hastinapur and leave this bitterness behind."

Back in Hastinapur, the sabha reconvened, its grandeur undimmed by the war's toll. The elders—Dhritarashtra, Bhishma, Vidura, and Kripacharya—gathered to address the matter of the yuvraj, delayed by Dronacharya's dakshina.

Duryodhana sat with his brothers, his chest swelled with pride, believing his triumph over Drupad secured his claim to the title. The Pandavas, seated opposite, exchanged glances, their earlier scorn now tempered by resolve.

Vidura rose, his voice resonant. "Pranipat, Maharaj Dhritarashtra, Mahamahim Bhishma, Kula Guru Kripacharya, noble princes, and esteemed sabha. The gurudakshina is fulfilled, thanks to the valor of our princes, led by Duryodhana's capture of Drupad. Northern Panchala now stands under Ashwatthama's rule, a testament to our strength. But Hastinapur's future demands a yuvraj, a crown prince to guide our legacy. I call upon Maharaj Dhritarashtra to name the heir, as per Aryavrat's traditions."

Dhritarashtra, his face heavy with the weight of decision, spoke, "The Kuru princes have proven their worth, none more so than my son Duryodhana, whose mace brought Drupad to his knees, fulfilling our guru's wish. Yet, tradition and dharma guide us, and after counsel with Bhishma, Vidura, and Kripacharya, I declare Yudhishthira, eldest of the Pandavas, as yuvraj of Hastinapur. His wisdom, righteousness, and adherence to dharma make him the guardian of our throne's honor."

The sabha erupted in murmurs, some cheering, others stunned. Duryodhana's face darkened, his hands clenching, jealousy burning in his eyes. "Yudhishthira?" he muttered to Dushasana, his voice venomous. "I felled Drupad, broke Panchala's might, and they choose that sanctimonious Pandava? The elders conspire to rob me of my due! This is an insult to my valor, to my brothers!"

Dushasana nodded, his voice low, "Bhaiya, they favor the Pandavas, always. But your triumph can't be erased."

Across the hall, the Pandavas rejoiced quietly. Yudhishthira bowed, his voice humble, "I accept this honor not for myself but for Hastinapur's dharma. I vow to serve with justice, wisdom, and compassion, uniting our kingdom."

Bhima clapped his shoulder, grinning, "Well done, Bhaiya! Let Duryodhana sulk—he can't match your heart!"

Arjuna, Nakula, and Sahadeva joined in, their laughter a silent jab at their cousin's defeat, their pride restored by Yudhishthira's coronation.

Duryodhana stormed from the sabha, his brothers trailing, his mind a storm of resentment. "They think to bury my glory under Yudhishthira's crown," he growled to Shakuni, who joined him in the corridor, his smile sly. "Patience, mere bache," Shakuni purred. "Yudhishthira's title is but a step. Your alliance with Magadha Naresh Bahubali and Angaraj Karna is your true strength. Nurture it, and the throne will yet be yours."