Combatants, encountering combatants, began to strike each other
with their fists, or seizing each other by the hair, began to drag and
throw down and mangle each other. Others, stretching their arms and
throwing down their foes on the Earth, placed their feet on their chests
and with great activity cut off their heads. Some combatant, O king,
struck with his feet some foe that was dead, and some, O king, struck off
with his sword, the head of a falling foe, and some thrust his weapon
into the body of a living foe. A fierce battle took place there, O
Bharata, in which the combatants struck one another with fists or seized
one another's hair or wrestled with one another with bare arms. In many
instances, combatants, using diverse kinds of weapons, took the lives of
combatants engaged with others and, therefore, unperceived by them.
During the progress of that general engagement when all the combatants
were mangled in battle, hundreds and thousands of headless trunks stood
up on the field. Weapons and coats of mail, drenched with gore, looked
resplendent, like cloths dyed with gorgeous red. Even thus occurred that
fierce battle marked by the awful clash of weapons. Like the mad and
roaring current of the Ganga it seemed to fill the whole universe with
its uproar. Afflicted with shafts, the warriors failed to distinguish
friends from foes. Solicitous of victory, the kings fought on because
they fought that fight they should. The warriors slew both friends and
foes, with whom they came in contact.
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