In the Midst of Armies

Inspired by the Indian epic, The Mahabharat, this vignette retells the moments before the Great War in the epic from the point of view of one of the main characters, Arjun, who realizes the depravity of the actions he is about to commit and questions whether it is moral to fight the people assembled before him.

I stood there in between the two massive armies. Behind me was my own- the army of my brothers. In front of me stretched the expansive army of my enemies. Or atleast the people who I thought were my enemies till five minutes ago. 

When I looked at the warriors on the front lines of the army, I saw not people who had wronged my brothers and I (although they had; greatly), I saw family. I saw friends. And for the first time in years, the enormity of what I always wanted to do, what I was poised to do, struck me. 

I thought of the people assembled in front of me, impatiently waiting for the war to start, waiting to send their arrows flying through the air. But I stood there in the middle, alone in my chariot, holding things up. The war had since lost its priority in my head. 

I now thought of them. The teachers who had taught me how to wield the very weapon with which I was ready, eager even, to slay them. The friends with whom I remembered spending many a great afternoon. And my cousins. The very cousins who helped spark this war. The same cousins whom we were to slay to reclaim our usurped kingdom. Why did I see them now as kin?

Apart from the people I knew, there were scores of people I didn’t know. Ranks and ranks of soldiers, none of whom would probably make it through the war alive. 

What did we want to kill so many people for? A piece of unfeeling land? For riches? What would be their use, if the people we wanted to share them with were dead; slain by us? 

I felt my eyes widen with horror and moisten with grief. I felt my grasp over my trusty bow loosen and my knees buckle. 

I looked up at my charioteer, my best friend, who was now eyeing me with worry. Licking my parched lips, I spoke in a voice that I barely recognized as my own.

“Krishna, I cannot fight.”