icult of being borne by the very gods, incapable of being crossed
like the surging sea on the day of full moon or new moon, abounding with
cars, elephants, and steeds, resounding with the blare of conches and the
beat of drums, numbering untold foot-soldiers and car-warriors, and
shrouded by the dust (raised), that very sea of hostile troops incapable
of being agitated, thus coming towards him, Bhimasena checked in battle,
O king, like the bank resisting the ocean. That feat, O king, which we
beheld, of Bhimasena the high-souled son of Pandu, was exceedingly
wonderful and superhuman. With his mace, he fearlessly checked all those
kings angrily rushing towards him, with their steeds and cars and
elephants. Checking that vast force with mace, that foremost of mighty
men, Bhima, stood in that fierce melee, immovable as the mountain Meru.
And in that dreadful, fierce, and terrific encounter his brother and sons
and Dhrishtadyumna of Prishata's race, and the sons of Draupadi and
Abhimanyu, and the unvanquished Sikhandin--these mighty warriors,--did
not abandon him from fear. Taking up his massive and weighty mace made of
Saika iron, he rushed towards the warriors of thy army like the Destroyer
himself, armed with his club. And pressing crowds of cars and crowds of
horsemen down into the earth, Bhima wandered over the field like the fire
at the end of the Yuga. And Pandu's son of infinite prowess crushing
crowds of cars with the impetus of his thighs and slaying thy warriors in
battle, wandered like the Destroyer himself at the end of the Yuga. And
he began to grind thy troops with the greatest ease like an elephant
crushing a forest of reeds. And dragging car-warriors down from their
cars, and warriors fighting from the backs of heroes, and foot soldiers
as they stood on the ground, in the army of thy son, the mighty-armed
Bhimasena slew them all with his mace like the wind crushing trees by its
force. And that mace of his, slaying elephants and steeds, became smeared
with fat, marrow, flesh, and blood, and looked exceedingly terrible. And
with the bodies of slain men and cavalry lying scattered about, the field
of battle wore the appearance of the abode of Yama. And the terrible and
slaughtering mace of Bhimasena, resembling the fierce bludgeon of Death
and endued with the effulgence of Indra's bolt, looked like Pinaka of the
angry Rudra while destroying living creatures. Indeed, that mace of the
high-souled son of Kunti, who