The princes, mounted on swift horses, demonstrated their skill by striking targets with arrows adorned with their own names. Their dexterity was evident as they released their shafts, drawing admiration from all who watched. The troop of princes, armed with bows and arrows, appeared to the onlookers like a dazzling city of the Gandharvas, filling the crowd with wonder. Suddenly, hundreds and thousands of men cried out, their eyes wide with astonishment, exclaiming, “Well done! Well done!” Their enthusiasm echoed through the arena. The princes continued to display their prowess, performing chariot maneuvers, riding elephants and horses, and engaging in single combat, each act revealing their great strength. Next, they took up swords and shields, striking with precision and executing prescribed movements across the arena. All present witnessed their agility, skill, splendor, steadiness, and firm grip in wielding sword and shield. Then, two who were always delighted—Suyodhana and Vṛkodara—descended into the arena, maces in hand. They stood like two mighty mountains with a single peak, their waists bound, their arms powerful, and their manliness evident. Swelling with pride, they resembled two intoxicated elephants, their strength and confidence unmistakable. The two warriors moved in circles, right and left, eyeing each other like elephants of equal strength locked in a contest. Vidura reported to King Dhritarashtra all that Gandhari’s son and the Pandava had accomplished, describing every action of the princes. While King Kuru was seated in the arena and Bhima, the strongest among the princes, was present, the people, out of affection and partiality, divided themselves into two factions. Loud shouts arose from the crowd: “Victory to the king of the Kurus!” and “Victory to Bhima!” The arena was suddenly filled with competing voices. Seeing the commotion like a disturbed ocean, the wise Bharadvaja spoke to his beloved son Ashvatthama, urging him to restrain the two mighty heroes, both well-trained, so that the agitation in the arena, born of Bhima and Duryodhana, would not escalate. Ashvatthama quickly rose and, at his teacher’s command, restrained the two, saying, “Enough, Bhima! Enough, son of Gandhari! Enough of this display, enough of this speed, enough of this daring!” At his words, the two, surging like oceans agitated by the wind at the end of an age, were checked. Then Drona entered the arena, quieting the musicians whose sounds had thundered like a great cloud. He declared, “He who is dearer to me than my own son, skilled in all weapons, equal to Indra’s younger brother—let Partha be seen now.” At the teacher’s command, the young man appeared, having performed auspicious rites. His fingers were protected by guards, his quiver was full, and his bow was in hand. Wearing a golden breastplate, Phalguna shone like a raincloud at sunset, adorned with the radiance of the sun and the lightning of Indra’s bow. Throughout the arena, a great commotion arose; instruments and conches sounded all around. The crowd proclaimed, “Here is Kunti’s illustrious son, the middle Pandava; here is the son of mighty Indra, the protector of the Kurus. He is the foremost among those skilled in weapons, the best among upholders of righteousness, the supreme treasure of virtue and knowledge.” Tumultuous words echoed among the spectators, and Kunti’s chest was soaked with freely flowing tears. At this great sound, Dhritarashtra, the best of men, whose hearing was perfect, joyfully spoke to Vidura: “O Kshatta, what is this tremendous roar, like a disturbed ocean, that has suddenly arisen in the arena, as if splitting the sky?” Vidura replied, “Here is Partha, O King—Phalguna, the joy of Pandu—descended there, fully armored, with a mighty roar.” Dhritarashtra rejoiced, saying, “I am blessed, I am favored, I am protected, O wise one, by the three Pandava fires born from Pritha as the kindling.” When joy arose in the arena and he appeared, Bhībhatsu displayed his skill in weapons to his teacher. With the fire weapon, he produced flames; with the water weapon, he produced water; with the wind weapon, he produced fire; with the rain weapon, he produced wealth. With the earth weapon, he produced land; with the mountain weapon, he produced mountains; and with the concealment weapon, he vanished from sight. In an instant, he was tall; in an instant, short; in an instant, upon the chariot’s banner; in an instant, within the chariot; then in an instant, descended to the ground. Delicate and subtle, heavy and beloved of the heavy, endowed with skill, he struck with various arrows. As the iron boar moved about, he released five arrows simultaneously, as if with a single arrow. In the horn sheath of a cow and on a moving rope, the mighty hero embedded twenty-one arrows. Thus, in the great sword and in the bow, and in the mace, skilled in weapons, he displayed circles. Then, as his display neared completion and the assembly grew quiet, with the sound of instruments fading, from the direction of the gate arose a sound indicating greatness and strength. It was like the crushing of a thunderbolt; the sound of arms was heard. “Are the mountains breaking apart? Is the earth splitting? Is the sky being filled with clouds pouring rain?” Such thoughts arose in the mind of the lord of the earth for a moment, and all the spectators turned toward the gate, eager to witness what was coming.