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 said: O best of the Bharatas, struck and tormented by a rain of arrows, the elephants of both your side and the Pāṇḍavas raised a terrible clamour on that battlefield. And as the resolute heroes—steadfast and of immeasurable might—closed in, the thunder of bowstrings and the slap of bow against the arm-guard drowned everything else; nothing could be clearly made out amid that roar.
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.