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Mahabharata #5
Mahabharata: Volume 5
The Mahabharata: Vol 5 by Bibek Debroy (Tr.), 9780143425182
632 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 401
29 people are currently reading
485 people want to read
About the author
Bibek Debroy
158 books396 followersBibek Debroy was an Indian economist, who served as the chairman of the Economic Advisory Council to the Prime Minister of India. He was also the Chairman of the Finance Ministry's 'Expert Committee for Infrastructure Classification and Financing Framework for Amrit Kaal'. Debroy has made significant contributions to game theory, economic theory, income and social inequalities, poverty, law reforms, railway reforms and Indology among others. From its inception in January 2015 until June 2019, Mr. Debroy was a member of the NITI Aayog, the think tank of the Indian Government. He was awarded the Padma Shri (the fourth-highest civilian honour in India) in 2015.
Bibek Debroy's recent co-authored magnum opus, Inked in India, stands distinguished as the premier comprehensive documentation, capturing the entirety of recognized fountain pen, nib, and ink manufacturers in India.
In 2016, he was awarded the Lifetime Achievement Award by the US-India Business Summit. In 2022, he was conferred with the Lifetime Achievement Award by The Australia India Chamber of Commerce (AICC). In February 2024, Debroy was conferred Insolvency Law Academy Emeritus Fellowship, in recognition of his distinguished leadership, public service, work and contributions in the field of insolvency.
Bibek Debroy died on 1 November 2024, at the age of 69. He had been admitted to All India Institutes of Medical Sciences in New Delhi one month prior.
Bibek Debroy's recent co-authored magnum opus, Inked in India, stands distinguished as the premier comprehensive documentation, capturing the entirety of recognized fountain pen, nib, and ink manufacturers in India.
In 2016, he was awarded the Lifetime Achievement Award by the US-India Business Summit. In 2022, he was conferred with the Lifetime Achievement Award by The Australia India Chamber of Commerce (AICC). In February 2024, Debroy was conferred Insolvency Law Academy Emeritus Fellowship, in recognition of his distinguished leadership, public service, work and contributions in the field of insolvency.
Bibek Debroy died on 1 November 2024, at the age of 69. He had been admitted to All India Institutes of Medical Sciences in New Delhi one month prior.
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Displaying 1 - 17 of 17 reviews
October 7, 2021
This book starts with Amba's story and ends with the events of the war on day 12.
Undoubtedly the greatest story ever told, this part is mostly about Bhishma and covers the Bhagavad Gita.
There is something mysterious about Krishna, the God, the man, who displays his essence in the form of Gita, one of the most philosophical teachings ever. As mentioned in the course of this book, he remains incomprehensible and mysterious to us mere mortals, something which helps me understand and comprehend God beyond the shallow barriers created by man (adamantly claiming to know something which cannot be known).
As the war begins, it is gore and violent in its extreme sense, but still the poetical vibes of the text somehow adorns even the bloodshed of this epic war.
Bhishma comes out as the major hero of this part, from his fight with Parshuram to his fall by the hands of Arjuna and Shikhandi.
For me, two incidents, which are normally overlooked but are extremely poignant, stood out from this part of the epic.
One would be, Krishna getting angry seeing the timid Arjuna, who isn't displaying his valour to its complete extent when fighting against Bhishma. It is this, when Krishna in all his anger approaches to kill Bhishma, violating his very oath. The very description of Krishna floating in his anger yet appearing as a blooming lotus is phenomenal.
The power and divinity expressed in this scene is further embellished by the philosophical meaning taking active form from its passive teachings of the Gita before.
The second being, the conversation between Karna and Bhishma after Bhishma's fall. It is the reconciliation between two most powerful warriors and a beautifully tragic conversation. It beautifully parallels the fate of the two true heirs to the throne, one already doomed while other knowingly approaching it.
It's poetic how it was Karna, amidst both Kauravas & Pandavas, who most reflected his grandfather's virtues & fate, not to mention the tragic parallel of being the true and deserving heirs to the throne yet giving it up for the sake of others.
I can never have enough of this story. Brought up listening to these tales from a very early age, Mahabharat still surprises me with the beautiful parallels and insights it helps me see with every fresh reading.
Undoubtedly the greatest story ever told, this part is mostly about Bhishma and covers the Bhagavad Gita.
There is something mysterious about Krishna, the God, the man, who displays his essence in the form of Gita, one of the most philosophical teachings ever. As mentioned in the course of this book, he remains incomprehensible and mysterious to us mere mortals, something which helps me understand and comprehend God beyond the shallow barriers created by man (adamantly claiming to know something which cannot be known).
As the war begins, it is gore and violent in its extreme sense, but still the poetical vibes of the text somehow adorns even the bloodshed of this epic war.
Bhishma comes out as the major hero of this part, from his fight with Parshuram to his fall by the hands of Arjuna and Shikhandi.
For me, two incidents, which are normally overlooked but are extremely poignant, stood out from this part of the epic.
One would be, Krishna getting angry seeing the timid Arjuna, who isn't displaying his valour to its complete extent when fighting against Bhishma. It is this, when Krishna in all his anger approaches to kill Bhishma, violating his very oath. The very description of Krishna floating in his anger yet appearing as a blooming lotus is phenomenal.
The power and divinity expressed in this scene is further embellished by the philosophical meaning taking active form from its passive teachings of the Gita before.
The second being, the conversation between Karna and Bhishma after Bhishma's fall. It is the reconciliation between two most powerful warriors and a beautifully tragic conversation. It beautifully parallels the fate of the two true heirs to the throne, one already doomed while other knowingly approaching it.
It's poetic how it was Karna, amidst both Kauravas & Pandavas, who most reflected his grandfather's virtues & fate, not to mention the tragic parallel of being the true and deserving heirs to the throne yet giving it up for the sake of others.
I can never have enough of this story. Brought up listening to these tales from a very early age, Mahabharat still surprises me with the beautiful parallels and insights it helps me see with every fresh reading.
June 30, 2021
This volume actually get into the War for real! Bhishma is killed and the ground is set for more! I like how some metaphors are still used today while others not so much. An example of the latter would be, to compare a person bleeding after being pierced, to the palash (kimshuka) flower.
Feels so good to stay on track while reading this massive work! First 6 months - 5 volumes read. Next 6 months - another 5 volumes to read! I will do it!
Feels so good to stay on track while reading this massive work! First 6 months - 5 volumes read. Next 6 months - another 5 volumes to read! I will do it!
January 19, 2026
If this were just the Bhagavad Gita section, I'd give it 6 stars. It's the first time I've read through the whole thing, and I was awed by the superb translation, not to mention the (mostly) profound and relevant ideas discussed therein.
A big portion of this volume is repetitive descriptions of the battle (not the fault of the translator) which flatten it a bit too much. But it's saved by a few highlights: Drona and Bhishma's showcases of their sheer power, Bhagadatta's rampage atop his War Elephant, the battles between Arjuna and Bhishma, the drama between the heroic opponents, the sheer loss and despair, and of course the magnificent translation of the Bhagavad Gita. That was technically the last book I read in 2025 - what a way to end the year!
A big portion of this volume is repetitive descriptions of the battle (not the fault of the translator) which flatten it a bit too much. But it's saved by a few highlights: Drona and Bhishma's showcases of their sheer power, Bhagadatta's rampage atop his War Elephant, the battles between Arjuna and Bhishma, the drama between the heroic opponents, the sheer loss and despair, and of course the magnificent translation of the Bhagavad Gita. That was technically the last book I read in 2025 - what a way to end the year!
December 8, 2025
Back in December 2018, a small accident left me with a spinal injury, forcing me to stay in bed for more than two weeks. Outside my room, the world was moving through a momentous winter: the passing of former U.S. President George H. W. Bush, headline-making decisions at the G20 Summit in Argentina, and the afterglow of the dramatic Thailand cave rescue that had captured global attention earlier that year. India, too, had its own share of notable events—sharp cold waves sweeping across the north, the country retaining its position as the world’s largest receiver of remittances, and celebrations in the fields of literature and sports, including Amitav Ghosh being honoured with the Jnanpith Award.
Amid this combination of personal stillness and global motion, I found one unexpected gift of time: the opportunity to read through all ten volumes of Bibek Debroy’s complete English translation of the Mahabharata.
I stepped into this book, already aware that the epic had shifted gears, but I wasn’t prepared for just how deep the moral undertow would get. By this point, the narrative has left behind the immediate shame of the dice game and the rawness of exile and has entered that eerie, anticipatory twilight before the war—where every word trembles with the weight of inevitability.
Has there ever been a volume in the Mahabharata where silence speaks louder than action? I don’t think so.
This whole book feels like that brief, haunted hush before a monsoon storm, the kind that tastes like iron and prophecy.
Reading it, I felt like Shakespeare’s tragic orchestra had joined the Kurukshetra ensemble—Lear’s madness, Macbeth’s ambition, Hamlet’s moral hesitation, all threading themselves through human hearts that are far older, far more layered.
The Mahabharata seldom gives simple answers, but in this volume, it almost seems allergic to them.
Every reasoning twists inward, every justification collapses under its own contradictions.
And like the ‘Gita’ whispering from behind the curtains, the text keeps asking: ‘What do you do when dharma splits into factions and both sides claim to be righteous?’
In Volume 5, the preparations for war get treated like an extended philosophical arraignment. Every king, ally, and opportunist becomes a witness, every argument becomes a cross-examination, and every silence becomes a verdict.
And I—flat on my bed back in 2018, my spine refusing to cooperate with basic physics—felt as if I were watching the slow unfurling of a cosmic courtroom drama. Funny how personal stillness can sharpen the lens through which you watch destiny gather itself.
What Debroy does so attractively is maintain the tensile clarity of Sanskrit even in English. I kept catching myself rereading lines just to marvel at how the prose remains spare but resonant, like a sitar string plucked in a quiet house.
He doesn’t dramatise, doesn’t embellish—he simply reveals. And the Mahabharata doesn’t need adornment; it comes preloaded with centuries of emotional software.
Volume 5 begins swirling around the political negotiations, and what strikes me every time is how everyone behaves like they’re in some early Rabindranath short story—caught between desire and duty, dignity and compulsion, honour and heartbreak.
The existential murmur in so many dialogues reminded me of Tagore’s troubled princes and indecisive rebels, those who want to rebel against destiny but don’t know where destiny ends and their own ego begins.
Krishna’s role in this volume fascinated me differently. He moves like a Shakespearean trickster-sage, somewhere between Prospero’s foresight and Falstaff’s manipulative charm—except Krishna is neither manipulative nor frivolous. Everything he does is calculated compassion.
When he sets off for peace talks that he already knows will fail, there’s something almost Upanishadic in that acceptance: ‘You act because it is yours to act, not because success is guaranteed.’ I could almost hear the Gita's cadences foreshadowing themselves.
The peace mission sequence hit me harder this time, maybe because Debroy refuses to dramatise it romantically. Krishna stands before Duryodhana, offering peace so reasonable and so heartbreakingly simple that even a cynic would pause.
But Duryodhana is locked inside a psychological fort he built long before he was even born. His refusal isn’t just arrogance—it’s inherited fury, nurtured grievance, a kind of emotional genealogical curse.
He rejects peace not because he wants war, but because he cannot imagine a world where generosity toward the Pandavas doesn’t feel like surrendering a piece of his identity.
And I thought: isn’t that how most of us damage ourselves? Holding on to the one narrative that hurts us but also defines us.
The moment when Duryodhana tries to imprison Krishna is straight-up Shakespearean in its dramatic irony. It reminded me of the scenes in ‘Julius Caesar’ or ‘Coriolanus’ where political stupidity escalates into existential stupidity.
But here, instead of rhetoric, Krishna reveals his cosmic form—a teaser trailer for the Vishvarupa we’ll see in the Gita.
But even more than the divine spectacle, I was struck by how calmly Krishna behaves the moment after. He returns to his human scale as if divinity were just another outfit in his wardrobe.
This contrast—cosmic vastness followed immediately by conversational gentleness—sends a chill through the spine. It’s the Mahabharata’s way of saying: ‘Dharma is quieter than power. Always.’
Another thing that Volume 5 does brilliantly is highlight the micro-stories buried inside the political arc. Vidura, Sanjaya, and even Dhritarashtra get their moments of emotional unravelling.
Dhritarashtra’s inner conflict feels like something Tagore would have written if he’d taken a detour through senile monarchy. The king longs for peace but lacks the moral muscle to enforce it. He is the kind of man Shakespeare would diagnose in five lines: “I see it, I know it, I loathe it, but I cannot move.” And it is this paralysis—far more than Duryodhana’s rage—that fuels the war machinery.
The speeches delivered by the various kings also stand out. Some are impulsive, some philosophical, some almost comically pompous (every era has its Instagram storytellers).
But through them all, the epic keeps weaving its thesis: that war is never about the battlefield; it is the result of decades of emotional architecture.
Karna’s entry in this volume made me pause and breathe differently. This is the Karna who is beginning to sag under the weight of his loyalty. Not a blind follower, but a deeply wounded soul who has chosen his anchor—and will drown with it if he must.
His conversation with Krishna is one of the high points of the entire ten-volume translation.
There is tragedy, tenderness, and that painful recognition that sometimes the right path comes too late. Karna's refusal of Krishna’s offer reminded me so much of Rabindranath’s ‘Bisarjan’, where loyalty outweighs self-preservation, and the doomed character walks into ruin with dignity.
Every hero in Volume 5 is haunted. Yudhishthira by doubt, Bhima by fury, Arjuna by anticipation, Draupadi by memory, Karna by shame, Drona by guilt, Bhishma by the weight of broken vows.
This collective trembling feels almost Upanishadic—a human forest rustling with the winds of cosmic inevitability.
By the time the book edges toward the war, I found myself reading more slowly, like I wasn’t ready to step onto the blood-soaked sands. There’s a moment when Sanjaya returns from the Kaurava camp to report to Dhritarashtra, and the text suddenly becomes cinematic.
The narrative pauses, breathes, shifts into a solemn register. It feels like that moment in Shakespeare when a messenger enters and the whole emotional temperature of the play changes.
And then the book ends—not with the crash of chariots but with the chilling realisation that the crash is now unavoidable. It’s like finishing a chapter of your own life where you know the climax is coming, and all you can do is breathe through it.
I remember lying on my bed in 2018, spine stiff and uncooperative, staring at the ceiling after that final page, thinking: “This is how fate looks from the inside.” Slow. Heavy. Unstoppable.
What Debroy accomplishes in Volume 5 is something rare. He allows the Sanskrit text to breathe, to keep its rhythm, its gravitas, and its contradictions.
His English is respectful, clean, unobtrusive—a translator’s humility married to a scholar’s precision. It’s almost Upanishadic: ‘The best guide is the one who does not stand between you and the light.’
By the time I finished the volume, I felt an odd calm. Maybe because the book embodies the very paradox the Mahabharata thrives on: the idea that war is both preventable and destined, both tragic and necessary, both human and divine. I looked out the window into the chilly December morning of 2018, remembering the world spinning on—and it struck me how the Mahabharata’s moral storms felt more contemporary than anything on the news.
Volume 5 is not just a prelude to war; it is a meditation on how wars, both personal and political, gestate in silence long before they explode.
It is Shakespeare without the soliloquy, Tagore without the lyric, the Upanishads without the abstraction. It is humanity caught in the act of becoming its own destruction.
And reading it, immobilised but deeply alive, I felt myself slipping into that ancient heartbeat—one that thuds through desire, anger, loyalty, envy, grief, and the small but stubborn hope that somewhere, in another universe, peace might have been possible.
If the Mahabharata is a mirror, Volume 5 is the moment you realise the mirror is looking back.
Read and reread. Keep reading. Every reading gives you a new meaning.
Amid this combination of personal stillness and global motion, I found one unexpected gift of time: the opportunity to read through all ten volumes of Bibek Debroy’s complete English translation of the Mahabharata.
I stepped into this book, already aware that the epic had shifted gears, but I wasn’t prepared for just how deep the moral undertow would get. By this point, the narrative has left behind the immediate shame of the dice game and the rawness of exile and has entered that eerie, anticipatory twilight before the war—where every word trembles with the weight of inevitability.
Has there ever been a volume in the Mahabharata where silence speaks louder than action? I don’t think so.
This whole book feels like that brief, haunted hush before a monsoon storm, the kind that tastes like iron and prophecy.
Reading it, I felt like Shakespeare’s tragic orchestra had joined the Kurukshetra ensemble—Lear’s madness, Macbeth’s ambition, Hamlet’s moral hesitation, all threading themselves through human hearts that are far older, far more layered.
The Mahabharata seldom gives simple answers, but in this volume, it almost seems allergic to them.
Every reasoning twists inward, every justification collapses under its own contradictions.
And like the ‘Gita’ whispering from behind the curtains, the text keeps asking: ‘What do you do when dharma splits into factions and both sides claim to be righteous?’
In Volume 5, the preparations for war get treated like an extended philosophical arraignment. Every king, ally, and opportunist becomes a witness, every argument becomes a cross-examination, and every silence becomes a verdict.
And I—flat on my bed back in 2018, my spine refusing to cooperate with basic physics—felt as if I were watching the slow unfurling of a cosmic courtroom drama. Funny how personal stillness can sharpen the lens through which you watch destiny gather itself.
What Debroy does so attractively is maintain the tensile clarity of Sanskrit even in English. I kept catching myself rereading lines just to marvel at how the prose remains spare but resonant, like a sitar string plucked in a quiet house.
He doesn’t dramatise, doesn’t embellish—he simply reveals. And the Mahabharata doesn’t need adornment; it comes preloaded with centuries of emotional software.
Volume 5 begins swirling around the political negotiations, and what strikes me every time is how everyone behaves like they’re in some early Rabindranath short story—caught between desire and duty, dignity and compulsion, honour and heartbreak.
The existential murmur in so many dialogues reminded me of Tagore’s troubled princes and indecisive rebels, those who want to rebel against destiny but don’t know where destiny ends and their own ego begins.
Krishna’s role in this volume fascinated me differently. He moves like a Shakespearean trickster-sage, somewhere between Prospero’s foresight and Falstaff’s manipulative charm—except Krishna is neither manipulative nor frivolous. Everything he does is calculated compassion.
When he sets off for peace talks that he already knows will fail, there’s something almost Upanishadic in that acceptance: ‘You act because it is yours to act, not because success is guaranteed.’ I could almost hear the Gita's cadences foreshadowing themselves.
The peace mission sequence hit me harder this time, maybe because Debroy refuses to dramatise it romantically. Krishna stands before Duryodhana, offering peace so reasonable and so heartbreakingly simple that even a cynic would pause.
But Duryodhana is locked inside a psychological fort he built long before he was even born. His refusal isn’t just arrogance—it’s inherited fury, nurtured grievance, a kind of emotional genealogical curse.
He rejects peace not because he wants war, but because he cannot imagine a world where generosity toward the Pandavas doesn’t feel like surrendering a piece of his identity.
And I thought: isn’t that how most of us damage ourselves? Holding on to the one narrative that hurts us but also defines us.
The moment when Duryodhana tries to imprison Krishna is straight-up Shakespearean in its dramatic irony. It reminded me of the scenes in ‘Julius Caesar’ or ‘Coriolanus’ where political stupidity escalates into existential stupidity.
But here, instead of rhetoric, Krishna reveals his cosmic form—a teaser trailer for the Vishvarupa we’ll see in the Gita.
But even more than the divine spectacle, I was struck by how calmly Krishna behaves the moment after. He returns to his human scale as if divinity were just another outfit in his wardrobe.
This contrast—cosmic vastness followed immediately by conversational gentleness—sends a chill through the spine. It’s the Mahabharata’s way of saying: ‘Dharma is quieter than power. Always.’
Another thing that Volume 5 does brilliantly is highlight the micro-stories buried inside the political arc. Vidura, Sanjaya, and even Dhritarashtra get their moments of emotional unravelling.
Dhritarashtra’s inner conflict feels like something Tagore would have written if he’d taken a detour through senile monarchy. The king longs for peace but lacks the moral muscle to enforce it. He is the kind of man Shakespeare would diagnose in five lines: “I see it, I know it, I loathe it, but I cannot move.” And it is this paralysis—far more than Duryodhana’s rage—that fuels the war machinery.
The speeches delivered by the various kings also stand out. Some are impulsive, some philosophical, some almost comically pompous (every era has its Instagram storytellers).
But through them all, the epic keeps weaving its thesis: that war is never about the battlefield; it is the result of decades of emotional architecture.
Karna’s entry in this volume made me pause and breathe differently. This is the Karna who is beginning to sag under the weight of his loyalty. Not a blind follower, but a deeply wounded soul who has chosen his anchor—and will drown with it if he must.
His conversation with Krishna is one of the high points of the entire ten-volume translation.
There is tragedy, tenderness, and that painful recognition that sometimes the right path comes too late. Karna's refusal of Krishna’s offer reminded me so much of Rabindranath’s ‘Bisarjan’, where loyalty outweighs self-preservation, and the doomed character walks into ruin with dignity.
Every hero in Volume 5 is haunted. Yudhishthira by doubt, Bhima by fury, Arjuna by anticipation, Draupadi by memory, Karna by shame, Drona by guilt, Bhishma by the weight of broken vows.
This collective trembling feels almost Upanishadic—a human forest rustling with the winds of cosmic inevitability.
By the time the book edges toward the war, I found myself reading more slowly, like I wasn’t ready to step onto the blood-soaked sands. There’s a moment when Sanjaya returns from the Kaurava camp to report to Dhritarashtra, and the text suddenly becomes cinematic.
The narrative pauses, breathes, shifts into a solemn register. It feels like that moment in Shakespeare when a messenger enters and the whole emotional temperature of the play changes.
And then the book ends—not with the crash of chariots but with the chilling realisation that the crash is now unavoidable. It’s like finishing a chapter of your own life where you know the climax is coming, and all you can do is breathe through it.
I remember lying on my bed in 2018, spine stiff and uncooperative, staring at the ceiling after that final page, thinking: “This is how fate looks from the inside.” Slow. Heavy. Unstoppable.
What Debroy accomplishes in Volume 5 is something rare. He allows the Sanskrit text to breathe, to keep its rhythm, its gravitas, and its contradictions.
His English is respectful, clean, unobtrusive—a translator’s humility married to a scholar’s precision. It’s almost Upanishadic: ‘The best guide is the one who does not stand between you and the light.’
By the time I finished the volume, I felt an odd calm. Maybe because the book embodies the very paradox the Mahabharata thrives on: the idea that war is both preventable and destined, both tragic and necessary, both human and divine. I looked out the window into the chilly December morning of 2018, remembering the world spinning on—and it struck me how the Mahabharata’s moral storms felt more contemporary than anything on the news.
Volume 5 is not just a prelude to war; it is a meditation on how wars, both personal and political, gestate in silence long before they explode.
It is Shakespeare without the soliloquy, Tagore without the lyric, the Upanishads without the abstraction. It is humanity caught in the act of becoming its own destruction.
And reading it, immobilised but deeply alive, I felt myself slipping into that ancient heartbeat—one that thuds through desire, anger, loyalty, envy, grief, and the small but stubborn hope that somewhere, in another universe, peace might have been possible.
If the Mahabharata is a mirror, Volume 5 is the moment you realise the mirror is looking back.
Read and reread. Keep reading. Every reading gives you a new meaning.
July 16, 2013
Amba and Shikhandi, and Bhishma - A Chapter, Begun in the Court of the King of Kashi, Will End on the Battlefield of Kurukshetra
First off, let’s go over what the fifth volume of the unabridged translation of the Mahabharata by Bibek Debroy covers. It contains sub-parvas sixty through sixty-six. It completes the Udyoga Parva (fifth Parva) with the "Amba Upakhyana" (or "Ambopakhyana") sub-Parva (60th sub-Parva). It contains the entire "Bhishma" Parva (sixth parva), which in turns contains the "Jambukhanda-Vinirmana", "Bhumi", "Bhagavad Gita", and "Bhishma Vadha" sub-Parvas. Volume 5 begins the "Drona" Parva (seventh parva), and within it contains the "Dronabhisheka" and "Samshaptaka-vadha" Parvas (sixty-fifth and sixty-sixth sub-parvas, respectively). This volume therefore covers the first 10 days of the Mahabharata war on the battlefield of Kurukshetra. The only major warrior to fall in the first ten days is Bhishma. Fittingly enough, the volume begins with the story of Amba, the eldest daughter of the king of Kashi, and how she was reborn as Shikhandi, and how she turned into a man, permanently. The word ‘permanently’ is pertinent, as I will explain. Amba, reborn as Shikhandi, was responsible for Bhishma's death on the battlefield.
My complete review at http://blog.abhinavagarwal.net/2012/0...
First off, let’s go over what the fifth volume of the unabridged translation of the Mahabharata by Bibek Debroy covers. It contains sub-parvas sixty through sixty-six. It completes the Udyoga Parva (fifth Parva) with the "Amba Upakhyana" (or "Ambopakhyana") sub-Parva (60th sub-Parva). It contains the entire "Bhishma" Parva (sixth parva), which in turns contains the "Jambukhanda-Vinirmana", "Bhumi", "Bhagavad Gita", and "Bhishma Vadha" sub-Parvas. Volume 5 begins the "Drona" Parva (seventh parva), and within it contains the "Dronabhisheka" and "Samshaptaka-vadha" Parvas (sixty-fifth and sixty-sixth sub-parvas, respectively). This volume therefore covers the first 10 days of the Mahabharata war on the battlefield of Kurukshetra. The only major warrior to fall in the first ten days is Bhishma. Fittingly enough, the volume begins with the story of Amba, the eldest daughter of the king of Kashi, and how she was reborn as Shikhandi, and how she turned into a man, permanently. The word ‘permanently’ is pertinent, as I will explain. Amba, reborn as Shikhandi, was responsible for Bhishma's death on the battlefield.
My complete review at http://blog.abhinavagarwal.net/2012/0...
November 30, 2016
This is mostly Bhishma Parva, the account of the first ten days of the war, with a little bit before (including an important story for the end of those ten days) and a little after (two more days of fighting in Drona Parva).
The highlights are the Bhagavad Gita, which to this Westerner reminded me an awful lot of Neoplatonic-style monotheistic polytheism, and is probably the highlight of the Mahabharata so far. It's also the first time we've really seen Arjuna struggle to do, well, anything, so it's nice for his character as well.
And then there's a surprisingly compelling account of the first ten days of the war after that. There's a little bit of filler, but also some pretty crazy imagery - a very detailed river of blood is evoked several times. And then there's the death of Bhishma, the first casualty of the war, and probably the most noble non-Pandava in the book, which is also treated extremely well.
The highlights are the Bhagavad Gita, which to this Westerner reminded me an awful lot of Neoplatonic-style monotheistic polytheism, and is probably the highlight of the Mahabharata so far. It's also the first time we've really seen Arjuna struggle to do, well, anything, so it's nice for his character as well.
And then there's a surprisingly compelling account of the first ten days of the war after that. There's a little bit of filler, but also some pretty crazy imagery - a very detailed river of blood is evoked several times. And then there's the death of Bhishma, the first casualty of the war, and probably the most noble non-Pandava in the book, which is also treated extremely well.
May 20, 2019
This book contains entire Bhagwad Gita and first 10 days of Kurukshetra war. I breezed through the book till beginning of war, but found description of kurukshetra war unnecessarily verbose and unintersting. Had to skip read to finish this book. Pausing my Mahabharata journey at volume 5.
PS
Perhaps I need to read some commentaries to gain new frameworks to read the war and reignite my interest.
PS
Perhaps I need to read some commentaries to gain new frameworks to read the war and reignite my interest.
August 28, 2025
Half way through the 10-volume set, we finally get to the Bhagavad Gita. And the carnage of the Kurukshetra war begins.
This is the second time I read the Gita, and after many years it has lost much of its appeal. It is hard not too see its syncretic nature: much of it goes back to the Upanishads, rejecting empty ritualism, advocating selfless action, and seeking of the true self through various yogas. There is the obligatory discussion of desire and attachment, which almost reminds us of Buddhism, but not quite - Krishna, in the end, motivates Arjuna to fight, and takes part in the battle himself. And there's a whole section on devotion to Krishna as a personal god, which is always a big turn-off.
But, in this day and age, we do not have to take it as scripture or even proper psychology/self-help. Bhagavad Gita is still a fascinating window into that world, even it was a very superstitious, unfair and violent one.
And boy, is there a lot of violence! Paradoxically, there's so much of it, that we soon stop treating what we're told literally, in some instinct to make it work, and not to skip pages upon pages obvious exaggerations, repeated over and over again. Here are some samples.
The scale: There were ten thousand chariots on the joints of the wings, a hundred thousand on the head, a hundred million and twenty thousand on the back and one hundred and seventy thousand on the neck.
The skill: Like Shakra, [Bhishma] calmly showered thousands of arrows. For ten days, every day, he killed ten thousand warriors in battle. [...]
In that battle, Gangeya pierced Partha with nine arrows and Arjuna pierced him back with ten arrows that penetrated the inner organs. O Kourava! Arjuna prided himself on his skills in battle. With a thousand well-directed arrows, Pandava enveloped Bhishma in every direction. But Bhishma, Shantanu’s son, repulsed Partha’s net of arrows with his own net of arrows.
The carnage: Hundreds and thousands of heads and ornamented arms fell down immobile on the ground. With the heads sliced off, some supreme among men still stood, with their bows raised and holding weapons. An extremely swift river of blood began to flow. Its mud was terrible with flesh and blood and the bodies of elephants were like stones in it. The bodies of excellent horses, men and elephants flowed in it then, as it flowed towards the world of the hereafter. It was delightful to vultures and jackals.
And umm... Bhimasena’s loud roar surpassed the neighing of thousands of horses in both the armies. On hearing the roar of that brave one, which was like the sound of the clouds or the sound of Shakra’s thunder, your soldiers were frightened. All the animals excreted urine and dung, like animals do at the sound of a lion.
The translator seems especially fond of "dung", "urine" and "excrement", which are encountered again and again, whenever there's a loud sound on the battlefield. Oh well. Let's end on an astronomical note:
Large meteors fell down in an eastern direction. They struck the rising sun and were shattered, with a loud noise. [...] Flaming meteors struck against the sun and suddenly fell down on the ground.
We all know such descriptions aren't meant to be read literally, but they still seem to go the next level compared to, say, Homer. Now I have a better context for movies like RRR or Kalki 2898 (and Bollywood in general).
And to make it clear, I'm including the quotes as advertisement, not critique: the book still gets 4.5/5 stars.
PS Shameless plug: my extension classifies this as a proper classic:
This is the second time I read the Gita, and after many years it has lost much of its appeal. It is hard not too see its syncretic nature: much of it goes back to the Upanishads, rejecting empty ritualism, advocating selfless action, and seeking of the true self through various yogas. There is the obligatory discussion of desire and attachment, which almost reminds us of Buddhism, but not quite - Krishna, in the end, motivates Arjuna to fight, and takes part in the battle himself. And there's a whole section on devotion to Krishna as a personal god, which is always a big turn-off.
But, in this day and age, we do not have to take it as scripture or even proper psychology/self-help. Bhagavad Gita is still a fascinating window into that world, even it was a very superstitious, unfair and violent one.
And boy, is there a lot of violence! Paradoxically, there's so much of it, that we soon stop treating what we're told literally, in some instinct to make it work, and not to skip pages upon pages obvious exaggerations, repeated over and over again. Here are some samples.
The scale: There were ten thousand chariots on the joints of the wings, a hundred thousand on the head, a hundred million and twenty thousand on the back and one hundred and seventy thousand on the neck.
The skill: Like Shakra, [Bhishma] calmly showered thousands of arrows. For ten days, every day, he killed ten thousand warriors in battle. [...]
In that battle, Gangeya pierced Partha with nine arrows and Arjuna pierced him back with ten arrows that penetrated the inner organs. O Kourava! Arjuna prided himself on his skills in battle. With a thousand well-directed arrows, Pandava enveloped Bhishma in every direction. But Bhishma, Shantanu’s son, repulsed Partha’s net of arrows with his own net of arrows.
The carnage: Hundreds and thousands of heads and ornamented arms fell down immobile on the ground. With the heads sliced off, some supreme among men still stood, with their bows raised and holding weapons. An extremely swift river of blood began to flow. Its mud was terrible with flesh and blood and the bodies of elephants were like stones in it. The bodies of excellent horses, men and elephants flowed in it then, as it flowed towards the world of the hereafter. It was delightful to vultures and jackals.
And umm... Bhimasena’s loud roar surpassed the neighing of thousands of horses in both the armies. On hearing the roar of that brave one, which was like the sound of the clouds or the sound of Shakra’s thunder, your soldiers were frightened. All the animals excreted urine and dung, like animals do at the sound of a lion.
The translator seems especially fond of "dung", "urine" and "excrement", which are encountered again and again, whenever there's a loud sound on the battlefield. Oh well. Let's end on an astronomical note:
Large meteors fell down in an eastern direction. They struck the rising sun and were shattered, with a loud noise. [...] Flaming meteors struck against the sun and suddenly fell down on the ground.
We all know such descriptions aren't meant to be read literally, but they still seem to go the next level compared to, say, Homer. Now I have a better context for movies like RRR or Kalki 2898 (and Bollywood in general).
And to make it clear, I'm including the quotes as advertisement, not critique: the book still gets 4.5/5 stars.
PS Shameless plug: my extension classifies this as a proper classic:
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July 26, 2020It is a must read for anyone who wants to read the unabridged as close to authentic as possible version. Bibek Debroy has translated into English the Sanskrit Critical Edition compiled by Scholars of Bhandarkar Oriental institute that is located in Pune. These scholars took several decades and researched almost 2500+ Sanskrit and regional language manuscripts and painstakingly removed later additions and interpolations using scientific empirical methods and language analysis.
So at this point in time, the BORI Mahabharat is the closest to what Vyasa must have composed and Bibek Debroy has done an excellent job in translating it into easily understandable English words. I have heard that there are few errors in translation. But they are very few and do not take away the sanctity of the meanings of the original. I refer this book happily to anyone who wants to read Mahabharata as the best one.
So at this point in time, the BORI Mahabharat is the closest to what Vyasa must have composed and Bibek Debroy has done an excellent job in translating it into easily understandable English words. I have heard that there are few errors in translation. But they are very few and do not take away the sanctity of the meanings of the original. I refer this book happily to anyone who wants to read Mahabharata as the best one.
February 13, 2022
This is the volume where the Battle starts and after the fall of Bhishma on the 10th day of battle : Drona becomes the commander of the army.
One of the highlight was bhagwad Gita parva : where Shri Krishna talks to Arjun on Bhagwat Gita - Karma Yoga + Budhi Yoga. In all honesty and humility - those about 100 pages had a lot of content however i was not able to comprehend even a single line of it. I guess we need an enlightened soul to translate the real meaning of it.
I was only able to read it but not really understand it.
One of the highlight was bhagwad Gita parva : where Shri Krishna talks to Arjun on Bhagwat Gita - Karma Yoga + Budhi Yoga. In all honesty and humility - those about 100 pages had a lot of content however i was not able to comprehend even a single line of it. I guess we need an enlightened soul to translate the real meaning of it.
I was only able to read it but not really understand it.
July 1, 2020
Honest review:
It was extremely difficult for me to move along this book. There's so much war, so much repetition, so much praising of warriors after a while I couldn't understand who had more strength than others. Strategies were explained but briefly. Bhagavad Gita which is in this book was not as profound as I expected it to be (had read without the context- felt it was great). I'm so glad that it's over so I can move on with the next.
It was extremely difficult for me to move along this book. There's so much war, so much repetition, so much praising of warriors after a while I couldn't understand who had more strength than others. Strategies were explained but briefly. Bhagavad Gita which is in this book was not as profound as I expected it to be (had read without the context- felt it was great). I'm so glad that it's over so I can move on with the next.
September 5, 2020
Starts with the story of Amba/Shikhandi and the fierce battle between Bhishma & Parashuram, and then quickly moves into the first 10 days of battle, with a small intermission for the Bhagwada Gita!!
Bhishma being undefeated for the first 10 days and inflicting serious damage on the Pandava forces, his ultimate defeat and the ascension of Drona as the commander.
Bhishma being undefeated for the first 10 days and inflicting serious damage on the Pandava forces, his ultimate defeat and the ascension of Drona as the commander.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
August 20, 2021
This is the fifth volume of the unabridged translation of the Mahabharata by Bibek Debroy. This is the volume that has the Kurushetra war with Bhishma as the Kaurava Commander. Easy-to-understand language, beautifully written.
May 4, 2023
They is so much to understand and decipher in the Mahabharat that my reading is slowing down.
I don't think I will complete 60 books this year as my target.
Book #10 series Indic books
I don't think I will complete 60 books this year as my target.
Book #10 series Indic books
September 29, 2024
Goosebumps man best epic of the world for sure
March 19, 2025
The war begins. Arjuna sees his relatives on either side and doesn’t want to fight. Krishna explains to him why he must and the mechanics of reincarnation with the Bhagavad Gita. The war begins and Bhishma, fighting for the Kurus, leads the army but is eventually killed by Arjuna and Shikhandi. The war continues…
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