Just as Sarasvati and Aditya, from the very beginning to the end, attained victory—never distressed or defeated, like learned scholars prevailing in debate—so too did the warriors on this battlefield strive with unbroken resolve. Yet the gates of the field became blocked with heaps of broken debris and small mounds, and a supreme brilliance shone forth, only to fade like fires extinguished for lack of fuel. How much, indeed, can be spoken of such a scene, when even the tongues of many are thick and agitated, unable to find the words? Even Vasuki, lord of serpents, could not recount the full glory and terror of that battlefield. Thus raged the exceedingly tumultuous battle, fierce warriors clashing amid chaos from beginning to end, unrestrained and deafening with harsh, thunderous clamor. Stones rained down in showers, warriors rose and fell, rivers churned with missiles, and the rows of lotuses were scattered by the din. In the sky, fruits, tips, and sparks of fire flew among the fighters, while rivers of arrows arced and fell far and wide. Waves swirled with severed heads, feet, and lotus wheels; the whole field resembled an ocean churned by streams of weapons and clusters of Mandakini rivers. At the gates of battle, dense clouds of powdered weapons, stirred by the wind, afflicted the bodies of the accomplished, causing pain even to monkeys and tortoises. Amidst this, a hero stood—his form sweetened by valor, yet possessing but a fraction of his former brilliance, wearied and diminished by the blows of countless weapons. The armies, their horses exhausted, foremost weapons shattered, and radiance faded, grew faint in their splendor, even as the sun itself seemed to lose its light. Then, after consulting with their ministers, the commanders of the armies sent messengers to one another with a single message: “Let the battle be ended.” Fatigue weighed on both sides, arrows and weapons were wielded feebly, and all agreed to cease fighting at that time. At the very edge of the armies, beneath lofty banners and mighty chariots, a solitary, steadfast warrior ascended. Alone and immovable, he began to wave a cloth, visible in all directions like a shining moonbeam in the sky, signaling for the battle to cease. At this sign, the war drums fell silent, their echoes fading away in every direction, like whirlpools in a lotus pond stilled at the end of a great dissolution. The streams of arrows and weapons that had filled the sky began to dry up, just as rivers do in autumn. The movement of the warriors’ arms gradually ceased, like the trembling of trees after an earthquake, or the waves of the ocean once the wind has died. Both armies began to withdraw from the field, like floodwaters receding from the single ocean at the time of dissolution. The army, which had been churned like the ocean of milk by the uplifted Mandara mountain, slowly came to rest in the stillness of peace. In a short while, the battlefield was left utterly desolate and dreadful, like the gaping belly of death itself, as empty as the ocean when it was drunk dry by Agastya. Heaps of corpses filled the field, and a great river of blood flowed through it, resembling a haunted forest echoing with the cries of birds and jackals. The broad stream of blood roared with the tumult of its waves, crowded with the cries of the wounded, the desperate calls for help, and the frantic efforts of those seeking rescue. Torrents of blood poured from piles of the dead and half-dead, creating a terrifying sight, where even the twitching of corpses on the backs of the living struck fear into the heart. Fragments of clouds rested atop piles of elephants and corpses, while shattered chariots formed a vast forest of broken parasols. A vast river of blood carried away chariots and elephants, crowded with arrows, spears, lances, maces, and swords. The ground was covered by fallen armor, the ends of canopies, and shields, while corpses lay hidden beneath heaps of banners, yak-tail fans, and torn cloth strips. The wind rustled through thick quivers and broken bows, and the lords of the slain lay as if asleep on beds of arrow heaps and clusters of shields. The field was strewn with crowns, necklaces, armlets, shining discs, bows and arrows, and thick, long cords of entrails dragged by jackals, wolves, and birds. The battlefield echoed with the gnashing of teeth from the few survivors, while living men struggled, half-submerged in the muddy blood. Coins and heaps of shells were scattered about, and eyes protruded from hundreds of severed heads, as dreadful rivers of blood flowed, carrying masses of arms and logs. Cries of grieving relatives filled the air, mingling with the dead and half-dead, and the remains of all weapons, chariots, horses, and canopies lay scattered everywhere. Headless trunks danced, their arm-stumps raised like clubs, while nostrils were clogged with lumps reeking of blood, marrow, and fat. Half-swollen, dying horses and noble men of short life lay amid war drums struck by the waves of rivers flowing with blood. Dying horses and elephants dragged the wounded, splashing them with streams of blood, while gusts of wind carried the cries and the scent of blood from perishing warriors. The field was filled with the hiccuping voices of those whose mouths were stained with the curse of brief life, with torn flesh and the air heavy with the stench of fat, blood forced out by pain. Elephants and horses, their noses half-broken, were seized by the hands of the dead; the ground was strewn with corpses of men and beasts fallen without support. All around, the wailing of bereft relatives and friends mingled with the tumult of blood from the corpses, and women whose husbands had died lay with their throats cut by weapons. Some searched among the bodies of their kin, agitated by the mingling of corpses dragged away by corpse-bearers and jackals. Faces, tangled in hair and sinew, whirled and danced in the eddies of the great river of blood, whose high, surging waves bore all before them. At the end of life, many remembered their sons, loved ones, mothers, gods, and wealth, crying out “Alas! Alas!” and speaking of the pain of wounds that cut to the very core.