As Bhīṣma entered the hall, all the supremely beautiful maidens, anxious at his approach, withdrew, thinking only that he was old. His appearance—aged, supremely righteous, bearing wrinkles and gray hair—prompted murmurs among the assembled guests. They questioned among themselves, wondering why this bull among the Bharatas had come shamelessly. “What will people say of Bhīṣma,” they whispered, “who is falsely renowned as a celibate? In vain is he so proclaimed on earth.” Hearing these words of the Kṣatriyas, Bhīṣma’s anger was kindled. Standing tall among the assembled kings, he chose those maidens himself and, his voice thundering like the roar of clouds, addressed the gathering. He declared that the wise praise the giving of maidens to the worthy, and that there are many ways by which a maiden may be given: some adorn her as best they can and give wealth as well, some give her with a pair of cows; some obtain her by the declared price, others by force, with consent; some approach her when she is careless, and some win her by their own effort. Others, following the Ṛṣa marriage rite, obtain wives; and the eighth, the wealth-marriage, is approved by the wise. Bhīṣma explained that the royal class praises and accepts svayaṃvara, but the righteous declare that seizing her by force is the highest. “These are the ways, O rulers of the earth,” he proclaimed, “and by strength I wish to take her. So strive with all your power, to win or be defeated.” Having spoken thus to the kings and to the powerful king of Kāśi, Bhīṣma placed all the maidens on his own chariot. Taking leave of them, he swiftly departed, seizing the maidens. Enraged, all the kings sprang up, grasping their own arms and biting their lips in fury. As they hurriedly donned their ornaments and armor, a great confusion arose among them, with armor and ornaments scattered everywhere—a tumult like the gathering of stars. With their eyes reddened with anger, brows furrowed in wrath and indignation, those heroes mounted splendid chariots, prepared by charioteers and yoked with fine horses, equipped with all weapons. Armed and ready, they pursued Bhīṣma as he departed, and a tumultuous, hair-raising battle erupted between him and the many kings. Ten thousand arrows were hurled at Bhīṣma simultaneously, but before they could reach him, he intercepted them all, cutting them down with a bristling shower of arrows. The kings surrounded him from every side, pouring down a rain of arrows upon him like clouds upon a mountain. Yet Bhīṣma blocked that arrow-rain completely with his own arrows. He pierced all the kings with three arrows each, and every king struck Bhīṣma with five arrows in return. Bhīṣma responded by striking them back with two arrows each, displaying his prowess. The battle was tumultuous and terrible, like the conflict between gods and demons. Before the eyes of the world’s heroes, Bhīṣma cut down bows, the crests of standards, armor, and heads, all thick with arrows and spears. In battle, he shattered hundreds and thousands of them, demonstrating the extraordinary skill and swiftness of a master chariot-warrior. Even his enemies honored his defense, for after destroying countless others, he remained unscathed, his valor immeasurable. Then the son of the king of Kāśi was brought by the son of the ocean-going king, and Bhīṣma, having conquered them all in battle, set out toward the Bharatas with the maidens. The mighty king of Shalva followed him from behind. Indomitable, the king of Shalva approached Bhīṣma, son of Shantanu, in battle, like an elephant breaking the rear of a rival with its tusks. Driven by desire for the woman, Shalva called out to Bhīṣma, “Stop, stop!” Challenging Bhīṣma, the tiger among men and destroyer of enemy hosts, Shalva’s mighty arms were fueled by anger. Agitated by these words, Bhīṣma blazed with anger like a smokeless fire, grasping his stretched bow, his brow furrowed. Embracing the duty of a warrior, free from fear or confusion, the great chariot-warrior turned his chariot back toward Shalva. Seeing this, all the kings became spectators to the encounter between Bhīṣma and Shalva. Like two roaring bulls in the midst of the herd, the two mighty and valorous warriors advanced upon each other, displaying their strength and prowess. Then the king of Shalva showered Bhīṣma, son of Shantanu, with hundreds of thousands of swift arrows. Seeing Bhīṣma first pressed hard by Shalva, the kings were astonished and exclaimed, “Well done! Well done!” Witnessing Shalva’s swiftness in battle, all the kings, delighted, praised him with words of admiration. Hearing the words of the Kṣatriyas, Bhīṣma, son of Shantanu and subduer of enemies, angered, called out, “Stop! Stop!