The battlefield was a tumult of energy and chaos. The great cage filled with birds was violently shaken by a herd of elephants, just as one mountain might tremble when struck by another in a mighty collision. Nearby, troops of horses thundered against one another, the clash resounding like fierce waves meeting and crashing in the depths of the ocean. Battalions of men, equally armed and determined, fought with relentless vigor, their struggle resembling masses of reeds striking each other or the gusts of wind battling in a storm. The charioteers, too, plunged their vehicles into the fray, one mass of chariots crushing into another, obliterating all forms in the chaos, as if cities themselves collided, or as if fate hurled the very sky into tumult. Above, the army of archers unfurled their banners and loosed their arrows in such profusion that the sky itself seemed filled with a new and wondrous cloud—an unbroken, unprecedented shower of missiles. In the midst of these battles, when weapons were uneven and the fire of combat grew too fierce, some warriors, their courage faltering, would withdraw by cunning and strategy. Yet, order remained within the chaos. Those who bore discs joined with other disc-bearers; bowmen faced bowmen, sword-fighters met sword-fighters, and slingers contended with slingers. Warriors wielding maces fought with their equals, spear-men with spear-men, javelin throwers with other javelin-bearers, and those armed with lances met others similarly equipped. Some brandished maces and iron clubs, others shone with their maces and clubs; skilled spearmen held their weapons ready, while axe-masters gripped their axes with confidence. There were staff-bearers carrying many staffs, and others who fought with stones. Some were masters of the noose, while others wielded sharp spikes. Dagger-wielders faced dagger-wielders, sling-bearers met their counterparts, and some stood with thunderbolt-like fists, while others brandished goads with practiced hands. Among them were those skilled in ploughing, wielding ploughs as weapons, and others who bore tridents. Some were adorned with chains and nets, while others wore garlands of soft creepers. The field saw experts in spear-combat and lance-combat, agitated and surging like the ocean’s waves at the end of an age. The sky itself seemed disturbed by the whirling discs and the winds created by arrow-showers, appearing as a single vast ocean teeming with spinning missiles like crocodiles. The battlefield, with its surging waves of weapons and the waters crowded with armies, became like a river-ocean—so formidable that even immortals would find it difficult to cross. On this field, the host of kings stood arrayed on both sides, each occupying half the ground, their armies like the two wings of a mighty bird, facing one another in anticipation. According to the number of directions and regions, peoples from every quarter had assembled. In the east, there were the Kāśis, Magadhas, Kosalas, Mithilas, Utkalas, Mekalas, Kavaṭas, Puṇḍras, as well as the Auṇḍras and the united Gauḍakas. There, too, were the Drimayas, Madras, Suhmas, and the Tāmraliptas; the Prāgjyotiṣas, Vājimukhas, Ambaṣṭhas, and Puruṣādas. Among them were the Karṇākṣas, Aviśrotras, those who ate raw fish, the Vyāghravaktras, Kirātas, Śavaras, and the Ekapādas. The eastern lands were marked by mountains such as Mālyavān, Śibivān, Jñāna, Vṛṣabhadhvaja, Padma, and the mountain called Udaya. Turning to the southeast, the dwellers on Mount Vindhya were present: the Cedayas, Vatsas, Dāśārṇas, Aṅgas, Vaṅgas, and their subordinate clans. The Kaliṅgas, Puṇḍras, Jaṭharas, Vidarbhas, and Mekalas had come, along with the Śavaras, Nagnaparṇas, and the Kaṇṭhatripurapūrikas. There were also the Kaṇṭakasthalas, the gentle folk of Pṛthudvīpaka, the Kaṇṭhadrās, the Śoṇikas, and the people of Carmaṇvat. The Kokakas, Hemakudyas, Shmashrudharas, Baligrivas, Mahagrivas, Kishkindhas, and Nārikelinas were all represented. To the south of this divine play of the Lord stood the mountains Vindhya, Kusumapida, Mahendra, and Dundura. There were the people of Malaya and Suryavansh, those known as Ganarajya and Nrirajyaka, and the famous Avanti and Sambavati. Dashapurya, Ekakaccha, Rishikas, Turushkas, Shakas, and the people of Vanavasa and Bhadragiri were there, as were the mountain-dwellers. The Nagaras and Dandakas stood alongside Ganarajya and Nrirajyaka, with Saharas, Rishyamukas, Karkotas, and Vanatimbilas. The Padmas, Chaurakas, Karkaviras, Vairikas, Pashikas, and the people of Dharmapattana and Pamsikas were present. There, too, were the Shakikas, Krishnacheluras, Narmadas, Tamraparnakas, Gonandas, Kanakas, and the people of China-pattana. The Talikatakas, river dwellers, Rahakas, Vennakarhanas, Vaivundakas, Tumbavanas, Lajinadvipa, and Karnakas assembled. Among them were the Karṇikāras, Śivayas, Kuṅkuṇas, Citrakūṭakas, Karṇāṭas, Mañcakaṭakas, and Mahākaṭavikas. The Āndhras, Kollas, Śinayas, Śivātakas, Cavairikās, Baladevas, Pattanakas, Krauñcas, and Ṭīvās had all gathered. The Śilākṣās, Radatas, Nandanandas, and Amalayas—inhabitants of the peaks of Citrakūṭa and guardians of Laṅkā—were present as well. In the southwest, the Mahārāṣṭras, Surāṣṭras, Sindhus, Sauvīras, Śūdras, Ābhīras, and Dramiḍas took their places. There were the Koṭakas, Ṣaṇḍas, Sindhus, and Kaliruhas, and the mountains Hemagiri and Raivataka stood as silent witnesses. The region of Mayavana, known as Nabhuka, was home to the Yavanas; the Pahlavas, Mārgaṇāvartas, and Dhūmrāmbaṣṭhakas were there as well. The Lājakaṇas and those dwelling on Amragiri had come, and beyond them stretched the ocean with the fires of Aurva—these too were people of the Lord’s wondrous play. Now, the narration turns to the peoples dwelling in the regions opposite these; in the west, the great mountains rise and the lands of many more peoples await their telling.