Free Mahabharata: A Modern Retelling by Carole Satyamurti

mighty ruler of Panchala
    has treated me—but then, she never saw
    how close we once were, Drupada and I.
    I just can’t reconcile . . . Only revenge
    can free me from the rage and hurt I carry
    each waking moment, like a burning sore.”
    Bhishma saw that Drona was a man
    with too much pride for his own peace of mind.
    Although advanced in spiritual disciplines,
    he would not, could not, find it in himself
    to overlook such crushing disrespect.
    Only by humbling Drupada in turn
    would he find rest.
    “Drona, my friend,” said Bhishma,
    “please consent to put down roots with us.
    You are the teacher our young princes need.
    Here, you will be honored as you deserve
    and live in comfort with your family.
    It seems to me that destiny has sent you.”

4.
    LEARNING THE ARTS OF WAR
    Drona never could have swallowed pity
    even for the sake of his wife and child.
    But he had been watching the young Bharatas
    and, talking with Kripa, had become convinced
    that these young men were ripe for the instruction
    he could provide. So he agreed, with grace.
    He moved into the mansion Bhishma offered,
    with his wife and son, and made ready
    to become the princes’ weapons master.
    Drona gathered the royal youths together
    and addressed them: “I have a driving passion
    gnawing my heart, a task that will stab at me
    until it’s done. Will you give me your word
    that, when the time is right, when you have mastered
    all the skills with weapons I can teach you,
    you will help me carry out this task?”
    The Kauravas shifted uneasily
    and stayed silent, but brave Arjuna,
    ambidextrous third-born son of Pandu,
    promised without hesitation. Drona
    embraced him warmly, and shed tears of joy.

    Drona was a most exacting master,
    demanding discipline from all his pupils.
    The hundred Kauravas, five Pandavas
    and Ashvatthaman, the stern teacher’s son,
    were treated all alike in principle—
    though now and then, Drona devised ways
    of giving his son a little extra time;
    and since Arjuna was exceptional
    in his dedication, he became
    the favorite among all Drona’s pupils,
    cherished even more than his own son.
    As was to be expected from their birth,
    almost all the youths were competent,
    or excelled, at one weapon or another.
    They mastered the basic skills of archery,
    of fighting with sword and javelin, with the spear,
    dagger, mace, and the small hand-thrown dart.
    They learned to fight on horseback and on foot,
    and how to steer a chariot; they learned
    every earthly weapon, and a few,
    according to their inner aptitude,
    were taught astras—for the proper use
    of these occult weapons was dependent
    on the depth of spiritual maturity
    attained by the man who would summon them.
    Drona arranged frequent competitions
    so each boy knew exactly how he ranked
    on the scale of skill, for every weapon.
    Through this strategy, each prince possessed
    something to aspire to, someone to beat.
    Ashvatthaman, being his father’s son,
    had outstanding knowledge of the lore
    and mantras of the god-given astras.
    Yudhishthira was the best charioteer—
    no one could outmaneuver him at speed.
    Bhima and Duryodhana, both stronger
    by far than any of the others, shone
    at wielding the spike-encrusted mace,
    swinging its colossal weight with ease.
    The twins, Sahadeva and Nakula,
    were outstanding swordsmen, and they moved,
    elegant as dancers, round each other,
    perfectly matched.
    But it was Arjuna,
    tall, quick-moving, perfectly proportioned,
    who was the best all-round kshatriya:
    accomplished at each single form of combat,
    and better by far at the art of archery
    than all the others. You only had to see
    his natural poise—the way he moved and stood,
    his one-pointed attention as he drew
    back the bowstring, letting the arrow fly
    at just the right moment, and no other—
    to know that this youth was extraordinary.
    In him, natural genius was harnessed
    to a fanatical determination.
    A master can only teach a pupil
    those things he is ready to