The Battlefield Becomes a River Whose Waves Are Weapons
Lanka Kanda, Chhand 12
Doha 87 · Movement 2 of 3
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A river of blood begins to flow through the battlefield, fearsome and profoundly impure. The two armies form its banks, while chariots lie along them like sand and broken wheels turn as whirlpools in the current.
Its creatures cannot be counted. Elephants, foot soldiers, horses, mules, and vehicles of many kinds are caught within the red water. What moments ago marched in ordered ranks is drawn together into one terrible river without distinction of banner or command.
Arrows, spears, and heavy missiles rise and fall as its waves. Shields drift thickly upon the surface like turtles. Tulsidas sustains the image until battle ceases to look like separate blows and becomes a whole landscape moving under consequence. The field has made its own waters, its own banks, its own creatures, and its own current, carrying the shattered instruments of war through a geography created by war itself.
The weapons meant to command the field become only waves and floating shells in the river they have made.
Read the passage from the Manas
कादर भयंकर रुधिर सरिता चली परम अपावनी। दोउ कूल दल रथ रेत चक्र अबर्त बहति भयावनी।। जल जंतुगज पदचर तुरग खर बिबिध बाहन को गने। सर सक्ति तोमर सर्प चाप तरंग चर्म कमठ घने।।
A fearsome river of blood began to flow, most unholy and terrifying. On both its banks lay armies and chariots like sand, with wheels and fragments swirling in its dreadful current. What creatures could one count in those waters? Elephants, foot soldiers, horses, mules, and vehicles of every kind. Arrows, spears, and clubs formed the waves; shields floated like turtles, thick and numberless.