Ugraśravas Character Analysis

Ugraśravas the Suta, teller of ancient tales, son of Lomaharshana the Suta, once approached the Brahmin seers assembled in the Naimisha forest to attend the twelve-year sacrifice of Śaunaka their chief, bowing politely to those keepers of keen vows.

But even as the priests talked, some saying one thing, some another, Arjuna stood next to the bow, unmoving as a mountain. The afflicter of his enemies walked around it in respectful circumambulation, bowed to it with his head, then took hold of it in joyful excitement. In the time it takes to blink, he strung it; and he took up five arrows and swiftly pierced the target through the opening. It fell to the ground.

Once, in the middle of the hall, Dhritarashtra’s royal son came upon a crystal floor; fooled into thinking it water, King Duryodhana drew up his garments. After this he walked about the hall with angry heart and averted gaze. Next, seeing a pond of crystalline water adorned with crystal lotuses, he thought it was a floor, and fell, fully clothed, headlong into the water; when the servants saw that he had fallen in the pond, they laughed uproariously, before giving him clean clothes at the king’s command. Then mighty Bhima and Arjuna and the twins saw him in this state, and they too all burst out laughing.

‘I choose fame in the world, O Sun, even over life itself; for he that has fame gains heaven, whilst he that has none perishes.’

‘Prince of men,’ replied Arjuna, ‘here on this peak is a huge, dense śami tree. It has awesome branches, so it is hard to climb, and it stands next to the burning-ground; no one comes here, lord for it is growing off the path, in forest frequented by beasts and savage creatures. Let us stow our weapons in it and then set out for the city; in this way we shall be able to pass our days here free from worry, heir of Bharata.’

When Kunti’s son the wealth-winner heard Krishna’s words, he chose Krishna Keśava, though he would not fight in battle.

Anyone seeking pleasure and wealth should also practice dharma from the outset, for neither wealth nor pleasure is ever found away from dharma.

Hear, lord of the earth, how those heroes, the Kauravas, Pandavas and Somakas, fought on Kurukshetra, that place of asceticism. The mighty Pandavas came to Kurukshetra with the Somakas and advanced against the Kauravas, for they were eager for victory. Accomplished Vedic scholars all, they revelled in warfare, hoping for victory in combat but prepared for death on the battlefield.

The blessed lord replied, ‘I am Time, the destroyer of worlds, fully developed, and I have set out here to bring the worlds to their end.’

The hero who had laid waste the entire Kuru army, like an elephant in a lotus pond, now lay resplendent in death, like a wild elephant slain by hunters.

And he performed this last find and astonishing foe-slaying feat: at the time he was pierced in the heart by the Spear, he appeared, O king, huge as a cloud, or a mountain; then that Rakshasa prince fell headlong to earth from on high, body torn, limbs stilled, lifeless and speechless, but gigantic in form. Bhima’s son Ghatotkaca, doer of fearful deeds, fell with the terrifying, fearful form he had assumed; and thus even in death he smashed on whole section of your army, bringing terror to the Kauravas.

‘Karna, if you challenge Arjuna to battle, you are a hare challenging a mighty elephant with tusks like plough-shafts, its temporal glands bursting with rut. If you want to fight the son of Kunti, you are a silly child poking with a stick a deadly poisonous king cobra in its hole, its hood expanded.’

The glorious standard of Karna the mighty chariot-fighter was now destroyed by the noble wearer of the diadem with a razor-edged, gold-shafted arrow that he shot with the greatest of care; and with the fall of that standard there fell too the Kurus’ fame and dharma, and their hopes of victory, sir, and all that they held dear, and their very hearts.

Bhima of fearful deeds brought down that club with an impact like that of a thunderbolt, and it smashed Duryodhana’s two handsome thighs.

Seeing these most wonderful happenings, and the honour paid to Duryodhana, the Pandavas felt ashamed; they grieved mightily to hear it said that Bhishma, Drona, Karna, and Buriśravas had been killed unfairly. But Krishna, seeing them anxious and downcast, proclaimed in a voice sounding like thunder or drums, ‘Duryodhana here with his swift weapons, and those other valiant chariot-fighters, could not have been slain by you on the battlefield in a fair fight. That is why I devised these stratagems, lords of men—otherwise the victory of the Pandavas could never have happened.’

Drona’s son Aśvatthaman watched that owl carry out its guileful attack at night. The bird’s behaviour filled him with new resolve, and he said to himself, ‘This bird has given me good advice in warfare!’

‘Here is the jewel, and here am I.’

‘Do not grieve, Dhritarashtra. You have not slain Bhima. This was an iron effigy, king that you laid low.’

Thus Yudhishthira lord of dharma lamented again and again; then, weeping softly, O king, the lord of men made an offering of water to his brother.

Bhishma agrees to expound his knowledge, but insists that it must be Yudhishthira who questions him. Krishna explains that Yudhishthira is filled with shame and fears Bhishma’s curse, but Bhishma insists that the killing even of relatives and elders is in accord with the Kshatriya dharma.

Bhishma replies that nothing can grow if no seed is sown: one should practice austerities, give gifts, abstain from violence and live virtuously, for this is what will determine one’s future condition.

‘Perform the horse sacrifice in due form, with gifts to all the Brahmins; for the horse sacrifice purifies one of all sins, lord of kings, and after sacrificing with that rite you will be sinless, make no doubt.’

So, like a cloud sating the earth with rain, King Dhritarashtra sated those priests with the torrents of wealth he showered upon them; and when all was done, that lord of the earth then deluged his guests of every class with downpours of food and drink.

Thinking that he had committed a dreadful crime, he touched his head to Krishna’s feet in distress; but noble Krishna reassured him, even as he soared aloft, filling all heaven and earth with his glory.

‘Great Indra,’ said Yudhishthira, ‘abandoning one who is devoted is considered an extreme sin in the world, equal to that of killing a Brahmin. Therefore for my own well-being today I shall certainly not abandon him.’

‘All kings shall see hell—this is inescapable, son. One’s merits and demerits form two heaps, bull-like hero. He who first enjoys the merit of his good deeds goes afterwards to hell, whereas he who first endures hell goes afterwards to heaven.’

This Bharata that emerged from the lips of Krishna Dvaipayana Vyasa is without measure;
holy purifying and auspicious, it drives away sin.
If a man studies it as he hears it recited,
what need has he to bathe in the waters of holy Lake Pushkara?

Ugraśravas the Suta, teller of ancient tales, son of Lomaharshana the Suta, once approached the Brahmin seers assembled in the Naimisha forest to attend the twelve-year sacrifice of Śaunaka their chief, bowing politely to those keepers of keen vows.

But even as the priests talked, some saying one thing, some another, Arjuna stood next to the bow, unmoving as a mountain. The afflicter of his enemies walked around it in respectful circumambulation, bowed to it with his head, then took hold of it in joyful excitement. In the time it takes to blink, he strung it; and he took up five arrows and swiftly pierced the target through the opening. It fell to the ground.

Once, in the middle of the hall, Dhritarashtra’s royal son came upon a crystal floor; fooled into thinking it water, King Duryodhana drew up his garments. After this he walked about the hall with angry heart and averted gaze. Next, seeing a pond of crystalline water adorned with crystal lotuses, he thought it was a floor, and fell, fully clothed, headlong into the water; when the servants saw that he had fallen in the pond, they laughed uproariously, before giving him clean clothes at the king’s command. Then mighty Bhima and Arjuna and the twins saw him in this state, and they too all burst out laughing.

‘I choose fame in the world, O Sun, even over life itself; for he that has fame gains heaven, whilst he that has none perishes.’

‘Prince of men,’ replied Arjuna, ‘here on this peak is a huge, dense śami tree. It has awesome branches, so it is hard to climb, and it stands next to the burning-ground; no one comes here, lord for it is growing off the path, in forest frequented by beasts and savage creatures. Let us stow our weapons in it and then set out for the city; in this way we shall be able to pass our days here free from worry, heir of Bharata.’

When Kunti’s son the wealth-winner heard Krishna’s words, he chose Krishna Keśava, though he would not fight in battle.

Anyone seeking pleasure and wealth should also practice dharma from the outset, for neither wealth nor pleasure is ever found away from dharma.

Hear, lord of the earth, how those heroes, the Kauravas, Pandavas and Somakas, fought on Kurukshetra, that place of asceticism. The mighty Pandavas came to Kurukshetra with the Somakas and advanced against the Kauravas, for they were eager for victory. Accomplished Vedic scholars all, they revelled in warfare, hoping for victory in combat but prepared for death on the battlefield.

The blessed lord replied, ‘I am Time, the destroyer of worlds, fully developed, and I have set out here to bring the worlds to their end.’

The hero who had laid waste the entire Kuru army, like an elephant in a lotus pond, now lay resplendent in death, like a wild elephant slain by hunters.

And he performed this last find and astonishing foe-slaying feat: at the time he was pierced in the heart by the Spear, he appeared, O king, huge as a cloud, or a mountain; then that Rakshasa prince fell headlong to earth from on high, body torn, limbs stilled, lifeless and speechless, but gigantic in form. Bhima’s son Ghatotkaca, doer of fearful deeds, fell with the terrifying, fearful form he had assumed; and thus even in death he smashed on whole section of your army, bringing terror to the Kauravas.

‘Karna, if you challenge Arjuna to battle, you are a hare challenging a mighty elephant with tusks like plough-shafts, its temporal glands bursting with rut. If you want to fight the son of Kunti, you are a silly child poking with a stick a deadly poisonous king cobra in its hole, its hood expanded.’

The glorious standard of Karna the mighty chariot-fighter was now destroyed by the noble wearer of the diadem with a razor-edged, gold-shafted arrow that he shot with the greatest of care; and with the fall of that standard there fell too the Kurus’ fame and dharma, and their hopes of victory, sir, and all that they held dear, and their very hearts.

Bhima of fearful deeds brought down that club with an impact like that of a thunderbolt, and it smashed Duryodhana’s two handsome thighs.

Seeing these most wonderful happenings, and the honour paid to Duryodhana, the Pandavas felt ashamed; they grieved mightily to hear it said that Bhishma, Drona, Karna, and Buriśravas had been killed unfairly. But Krishna, seeing them anxious and downcast, proclaimed in a voice sounding like thunder or drums, ‘Duryodhana here with his swift weapons, and those other valiant chariot-fighters, could not have been slain by you on the battlefield in a fair fight. That is why I devised these stratagems, lords of men—otherwise the victory of the Pandavas could never have happened.’

Drona’s son Aśvatthaman watched that owl carry out its guileful attack at night. The bird’s behaviour filled him with new resolve, and he said to himself, ‘This bird has given me good advice in warfare!’

‘Here is the jewel, and here am I.’

‘Do not grieve, Dhritarashtra. You have not slain Bhima. This was an iron effigy, king that you laid low.’

Thus Yudhishthira lord of dharma lamented again and again; then, weeping softly, O king, the lord of men made an offering of water to his brother.

Bhishma agrees to expound his knowledge, but insists that it must be Yudhishthira who questions him. Krishna explains that Yudhishthira is filled with shame and fears Bhishma’s curse, but Bhishma insists that the killing even of relatives and elders is in accord with the Kshatriya dharma.

Bhishma replies that nothing can grow if no seed is sown: one should practice austerities, give gifts, abstain from violence and live virtuously, for this is what will determine one’s future condition.

‘Perform the horse sacrifice in due form, with gifts to all the Brahmins; for the horse sacrifice purifies one of all sins, lord of kings, and after sacrificing with that rite you will be sinless, make no doubt.’

So, like a cloud sating the earth with rain, King Dhritarashtra sated those priests with the torrents of wealth he showered upon them; and when all was done, that lord of the earth then deluged his guests of every class with downpours of food and drink.

Thinking that he had committed a dreadful crime, he touched his head to Krishna’s feet in distress; but noble Krishna reassured him, even as he soared aloft, filling all heaven and earth with his glory.

‘Great Indra,’ said Yudhishthira, ‘abandoning one who is devoted is considered an extreme sin in the world, equal to that of killing a Brahmin. Therefore for my own well-being today I shall certainly not abandon him.’

‘All kings shall see hell—this is inescapable, son. One’s merits and demerits form two heaps, bull-like hero. He who first enjoys the merit of his good deeds goes afterwards to hell, whereas he who first endures hell goes afterwards to heaven.’

This Bharata that emerged from the lips of Krishna Dvaipayana Vyasa is without measure;
holy purifying and auspicious, it drives away sin.
If a man studies it as he hears it recited,
what need has he to bathe in the waters of holy Lake Pushkara?