After ten days of his struggle to stay ‘alive’, Bhisma Pitamaha gave up his fight, sealed his ‘wounds’ and started for the heavenly abode in search of salvation. Right on the arrow bed, lay his still body. After fighting on the side of Adharma, he was tired and had surrendered in front of Arjun.
“But he was supposed to wait to breathe his last on the 58th night, on the first day of Uttarayana. Somebody should wake him up”, murmured Bheem in Yudhistir’s ear.
“Right bro! He was supposed to preach to us on Dharma…..”
“Stop murmuring you guys! He has got the boon of Ichhamrityu, let him die whenever he wishes to. The show must go on”, interrupted Krishna balancing the Sudarshan chakra on his index finger.
“Wish the arrows on his bed were actually sharp,” whispered Dushasan.
“That wouldn’t have been enough”, growled Duryodhan clenching his fist,”We should have anticipated his move. He needs to be punished severely for ruining everything for us. Now what will happen to the remaining time of 48 days? How will we fight our war?”
The Pandavas and Kauravas stood baffled. As if waiting for some prompt on how to carry on further. Dronacharya stared at the still body in front of him, flabbergasted at the untimely ‘death’ of Pitamaha.
“He is the Pitamaha, such acts will sully his persona,” pondered Dronacharya ,”What will the people think? They will not accept it. Something bad is in store for us.”
Suddenly sounds of confused people started to buzz around the place which soon grew into irritated voices. “How long shall we wait for the next dialogue?” the first one shouted showing the way to others. He was the one possessing all the inherent characters of initiating mob violence.
Gradually others joined hands and hurled abuses.
The Pandavas and Kauravas clueless about their next move continued with their blows. Clanking of swords and shields and bloodshed started again, but in a messy way. The Kauravas and Pandavas fought against each other, sometimes with their own brothers, under pressure. Arjun and Karna shot arrows aimlessly creating an overall chaotic sight.
Tension grew to an extreme point backstage. All prompts failed to reach the characters on stage. The manager cum director started chewing his nails, a few times his fingers too, in a mode of panic. The producer came rushing backstage and held the director by his collar. “I’ll kill you and make you lay with your Pitamaha,” he snarled.
The director fought back,“Who told me to arrange the play on New Year’s Day to attract more crowd? How could I have kept him from not partying till late hours on New Year’s night? You are lucky that the play ran for 20 minutes.”
Amongst all the chaos and commotion Bhisma Pitamaha, unable to overcome his hangover, rested in peace over the cushioned arrow bed. While, the curtains had to be dropped for blocking hurled paper balls, slang abuses and a few slippers.
