भरतश्रेष्ठ)! बाणोंकी वर्षासे पीड़ित हुए आपके और पाण्डवोंके हाथी उस युद्धमें चिग्घाड़ मचा रहे थे ।। संरब्धानां च वीराणां धीराणाममितौजसाम् | धनुर्ज्यातलशब्देन न प्राज्ञायत किंचन
bharataśreṣṭha! bāṇavarṣābhipīḍitāḥ tava pāṇḍavānāṃ ca hastinaḥ tasmin yuddhe cikghāraṃ pracakruḥ || saṃrabdhānāṃ ca vīrāṇāṃ dhīrāṇām amitaujasām | dhanurjyātalaśabdena na prājñāyata kiṃcana ||
Sañjaya dit : Ô le meilleur des Bhārata, frappés et tourmentés par une pluie de flèches, les éléphants de ton camp comme ceux des Pāṇḍava poussaient un clameur terrible sur ce champ de bataille. Et lorsque les héros résolus—fermes et d’une puissance sans mesure—se rapprochèrent, le tonnerre des cordes d’arc et le claquement de l’arc sur le protège-bras engloutirent tout le reste ; dans ce fracas, rien ne pouvait être discerné clairement.
संजय उवाच
The verse underscores the overwhelming, dehumanizing intensity of war: even the senses fail amid the roar of weapons and the suffering of animals. It implicitly invites ethical reflection on the cost of kṣatriya conflict—valor and resolve are present, yet the battlefield becomes a place where clarity and ordinary perception collapse.
Sañjaya reports to Dhṛtarāṣṭra that elephants on both sides, wounded by continuous arrow-fire, are trumpeting loudly. At the same time, the warriors—fierce, steady, and powerful—are shooting so intensely that the combined noise of bowstrings and bow-hand impacts makes it impossible to distinguish anything clearly.