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11 - Sraddha (Funeral Rites) - Mahabharata · Sacred Texts Archive

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Book eleven, stad funeral rites. The death of the Urauden concludes the war,
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and it is followed by the eleventh of women and the funerals of the
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deceased warriors. The passages translated in this book form section ten, portions of
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section sixteen, seventeen, and twenty six, and the whole of section twenty
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seven of book eleven. Of the original text, One Kuruimen visit the battlefield,
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speak the Ncientrithiashtra, father of a hundred sons, sunless now and sorrow
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streakan dark isabbing, lifetied runs, Gods fulfill my life's last wishes. Hanchmen
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yoke my royal car Triterdashtra meets his princess in the silent field of war,
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speed unto the Queen Gandhari, to the dames of Kuru's house, to each
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dear departed warrior. Whence his fare and faithful spows Queen gun Hurry sorrow ladin
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we dance, and Pritha came, and each weeping widowed princess, and each
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wailing childless dame, and the saught the weary monarch, father of a parish
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race, fresh and a loud awoke their sorrow volun tears suffused their face.
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Good bidoor Ever gentle whispered comfort unto all placed the dames within their chariots.
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Left Astina's palace hall loud, the wail of war and sorrow rose from every
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curu house, children who wept beside their mothers. For each widowed royal spows
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veiled dwellers of the palace scarce the gods their face had seen, heedless.
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Now through Martin City sped each widowed, childless queen from their royal brow and
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bosom, gem and jewel cast aside, lose their robs and lose their treances,
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quenched their haughty queenly pride, So one false dan leered monarch, struck
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by woe and sudden fear, issuing from their snowy mountains, leaseless stray that
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dappled year so upon the broad arena milk quiet feelius braved, the sun wildly
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tossed their flowing traces, and in sad disorder ran clinging to her rooping sister,
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Webped Its dame in careless pain for the Lord, the son or father
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in the doubtful battle slay Webped and smote her throbbing bosom and in bitter anguish,
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wailed till her senses reeled in sorrow, till her Roman's reason failed.
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Veiled queens and bashful maidens, or stay shunned the public eye blushed, nor
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same suffused their faces as they passed the city. By gentle bosoms, kindly
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hearted ors, they wiped each other's eye now by common sorrow. Laddin none
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for sister, heaved a sigh with this troop of wailing women, deep in
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war, disconsolate, slow, the moner couplic curus passed, has Dina's outer
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gait man from stall and loom, and anvil man of every guild and trade
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left the city with the monarch through the open country strade, and the universal
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sorrow filled the air and answering sky, as when ends the mortal's yuga,
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and the end of world is nigh Two Gunderri's lament for the sleeve stainless queen
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and stainless woman, ever righteous, ever good, stately in her mighty sorrow.
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On the field Gundharry stood stunit skulls and clotted dresses, darkened by the
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stream of gore, on the limbs of countless warriors. Was the red field
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covered over elephants and steeds of battle. Carbon chiefs, untimely slain, headless
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trunks and heads dissevered filled the red and ghastly plain, and the long run
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haul of jackals over the scene of carnage. Rings and the vulture and the
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raven flapped their dark and loathsome winds feasting on the blood of warriors. Fowl
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pizars filled the air, vewless forms of hungry rockshes limp from limb. The
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corpsesed tear through this scene of death and carnage. Was danc and monarch lead
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Krudaims with faltering footsteps stepped amidst the countless death, and the piercing wail of
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anguish burst upon the aquin plain as they saw their sons and fathers, brothers,
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lords amidst the slave as they saw the wolves of jungle feed upon the
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dustine prey truk. Some wanderers of the midnight, prowling in the light of
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day, shriek of pain and wail of anguish over the ghostly fielery sound,
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and their feeble footsteps faltered, and the sink upon the ground, sands and
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life desert. The mourners as the faint in common grief. Death like swan,
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succeeding sorrow yields the moment's short relief. Then a mighty sigh of anguish
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from Gandary's bosom broke, gazing on her anguished daughters. Unto Krishna. Thus
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she spoke mark Man counsel daughters wid ooth queens of Koru's house, wailing for
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dear, dear departed, like the offspring for her spouse. How each cold
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and fading feature wakes in dam a woman's love. How amidst the lifeless warriors,
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steely, restless tapes, they rove mothers hugged their slaughtered children, all
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unconscious in their sleep, wi those bent upon their husbands, and in ceaseless
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sorrow weep mighty Vishma hath he fallen, Quen's disarcher, Current's pride, drupid
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Monarcho Pancha sleeps by foeman Rona's sigh. Shining mail and costly jewels, royal
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bangles strewed the plain, golden garlands, rich and varnished, tagged the chief's
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untimely sleigh lances hurled by stalwart fighters, clubs of mighty wrestlers, keeled swords
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and bows of ample measure quiver steel with arrow's field marked on forgotten heroes.
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Jungle prowlers made them stray on their brow and mailed bosoms heedless perch the birds
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of prey mark the great unconquered heroes famed on art from west to east.
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Conquers perch upon their foreheads, hung revolves upon them. Feast mark the kings
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on soft excushion scars. Then need address they found now the lying peaceful slumber
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on the hard and reddened ground. Mark the youths who morn and evening listed
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to the minstrel's sun. In the rear, the lonesome jackal doth his doleful
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wail prolonged. See the chieftains, with their mass and their swords of trusty
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steel steel. They grasped their tried weapons to the steel. The lifefulse feel
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tree Gandhari's lament for Duryudhan. Thus to Krishna, Queen Gandhari strove her woeful
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thoughts to tell when alas her rendering vision on her son Duryodhan, fell sudden
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anguish smote her bosom, and her senses seemed to stray like a tree by
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tempest, shaken senseless on the earth, she lay once again, she waked
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in no sorrow. Once again she cast her eye where her son, in
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blood and purple, slept beneath the top and sky, and she clapped her
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dear Duryudhan, hurled him close on to her breast. Sobs convulsive shook her
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bosom as the lifeless forms he pressed, and her tears like rains of summer,
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fell and washed his noble heath jagged at curland, still untarnished, grazed
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at Nishka's bright and wrath. Madr said, my dear Duryadan, when he
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went on too the war, wish me joy and wish me triumph. As
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I mount to battle car Son, I said to dear Duryodhan, have an
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ever to cruel faith yatudhrmasta tujaya triumph dot on virtue. Wait. But he
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set his heart on battle by his valor wiped his scenes. Now he dwells
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in real cele steel which the faithful warrior winds. And I weep not for
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Duryode like a prince. He fought and fell. But my sorrow streacken husband,
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who can his misfortunes teal aye, My son was brave and princely,
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all resistless in the war. Now he sleeps the sleep of warriors, sunk
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in gloom. His glorious star I my son meet ground monarchs held the first
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and foremost way. Now he rests upon the red art, quenched his bright
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offult and ray Aye my son, the best of heroes. He had won
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the warrior's sky, Shetrya's nobly conquered Krishna. When in war the nobly die.
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Hark the loathesome cry of jackals. How the wolves their vigils keep maidens
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rich in song and beauty. Airstwe to watch his sleep hark the foullen,
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bloodbeaked vultures plapped their wings upon the dead. Maidens swept their feedery. Ponkahs
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round Turitan's royal bed, Peerless bowmen, mighty mowner nations steel his hasts obeyed
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as a lion slay is a tiger. Vima had Turyatan's slay thirteen years over
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Kuru's empire. Proud Duritan held his sway Rolldestino's ensient city, where fair Ganga's
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water stray. I have seen his regal splendor with these ancient eyes of mine,
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elephants and battle chariots, steeds of war and hearts of kin. Kurwans
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another master, and Durliton's day is fled, and I leave to be a
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witness. Krishna, Oh that I were dead marked Ruden's noble widow murther proud
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of blushment, bold, queenly in her eat and beauty like an altar of
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bright gold, turn from husband's sweet embraces, from her son's and twining arms.
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Doomed to lifelong war and anguish in her ut and in her charms,
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rand my herd and stony bosom crushed beneath this cruel pain, should gun her
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relief to witness noble son and grandsons, laying mark again. Turitan's widow,
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How she Hugsy's gory head, How with gentle hands and tender softly holds him
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on his bed. How from dear departed husband tawned she to her dearer son,
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and the tear drops of the murder choked the widow's bitter groan like the
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fiber of the lotus tell under golden is her frame, O, my lotus,
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Oh my daughter were it's pride and CRU's fay. If the truth resideth
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in vadas, brave do did and dwells above, wherefore lingerine sadness severed from
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his cherished love. If the truth resides in sastre dwells in sky, my
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hero's son for Guandharry and her daughter. Now their earthly task is done for
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funeral. Rite victor of a doubtful battle said, it is to reviewed the
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plain, friends and kinsmen, kings and chieftains, countless troops, untimely slain.
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And he speak to white sudermand pious priest of CRU's race Untu, Sanjay
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and Doomia to bidure full of grace, spake unto the brave Jiujitsu, CRU's
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last surviving chief, speak to faithful in Rosenna and to warriors sunk in grief.
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Pious rides her due to foemen and to friends and kinsman's lane. None
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shall lack a fitting funeral. None shall paris on the plain. Wise Widurr
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and his comrades sped on sacred duty, bound Sandalut and sant the Deelowis oil
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and key and perfumes found silken robes of costly splendor, fabrics by the artist's
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wharf, drivoot from the thorny jungle, perfume from the sanded grove, shattered
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cars and splintered lances, hewed and ready for the fire, piled and ranged
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in perfect order into many a funeral pyre, Kings and princes, noble warriors
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were in rank and order, laid and with streams of melted butter were the
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rich libations made waste the fire with wondrous radiance. By their rich libations fed,
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sanctifying and consuming mortal remnants of the dead Brave di Urdan and his brothers
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Celia of the Mighty car Uistawa's King of Nations Jadrad famed in war of him
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Nu, son of Virtun, Lutschman Proud Dathan son so Madata and the Syringes
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feigned for deeds of Valor Duane much as Monarch Proud Bidad drupet Fair, Panchal's
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king and his sons Panchal's princess, whose great deeds the minstrels sing cultured Monarch
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of Koshal and Gandhar's wildly Lord Kern proud in puerist archer matchless with his flaming
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sword Vagadat the Eastern monarch all registers in his car Qotad Katch son of Wema
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Alumbasha faimed in war, and a hundred other monarchs all received a pious rite
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till the radiance of the firelight chased the shadows of the night. Pittrimidha due
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to Fathers was performed with pious care. Hemns and wails and lamentations mingled in
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the midnight air. Sacred songs of reek and summon rose with women's piercing wail,
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and the creatures of the wide heart hard the sound subdued and pale,
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smokeless, and its radiant luster shone, its red and lighted pyre, like
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the planets of the bright sky, dropping with celestial fire. Countless myriads,
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nameless, friendless from each court and camp afar from the east and west collected
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fell in Kurukshetra's war. Thousand fires for them were lighted. They received a
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pious ride. Such was good distres mandate, Such was wise Bidure's smile.
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All the dead were burned to ashes, and the sacred ride was over Thritarashtra
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and it his tear slowly walked to Gangha's shore. Five oblation to Kern.
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Sacred Gangha ample bosomed sweeps along in regal pride, rolling down her limpid waters
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through high banks on either side, kru daimes and weeping widows teeter in their
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anguish, came theven holy rights to render to departed chiefs of fame. Casting
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forth their jeweled girdles, gems and scarves belazed with gold, gave oblations of
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the water to which Hero true and bold, unto fathers, unto husbands,
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unto sons in battle, slave offerings of the sacred water, soaring wives and
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mother's maid and so great the host of mourners went in to perform their ride,
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that their footsteps made a pathway in the sad and sacred side. And
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the shelving banks of Gangha, peopled by the soaring train, wide, expanding,
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vast and sea like, form a scene of woe and pane. But
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a wave of keener sorrow swept over Pritha's heaving breast. As unto her whooping
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children does her secrets. She expressed, He my sons, the peerless bowman
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mighty in his battle car, he who bore a stamp of Hero slain by
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Urgin in the war, He whom, as the son of brad chariot driver,
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ye have taught, he who shown itch Suria's lusser as his countless foes
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he fought. He who faced your stoutest warriors, and in battle never failed,
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He who led the crew forces, and in danger never quailed. He
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who knew no peer in prois owned in war no hoftier name. He who
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wielded life not honor, and by death had conquered fame. He in truth,
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who never faltered, never left his vow undone offer unto him oblation.
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Kern was my eldest son. Karn was your honored elder, and the son
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inspired his birth. Kern, in his rings and armor, son like drought,
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the spacious art Pritta spake, and terror stricken punder brothers groaned in pain,
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and they wept in war and anguish for the brother they slain. He
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sing forth his sigh of sorrow, like a trodden hissing snake, said it
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is dear to his mother. Thus his in not feeling spake, didst thou
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mother bear the hero fathomless like ocean dread, whose unfailing glistening arrows, like
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its countless below spead? Didst thou bear that pure des archer, all resistless,
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in his car, sweeping with a roar of ocean through the shattered ranks,
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of war. Didst thou bear the mighty hero, mortal man of avonlea
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bird crushing beneath his arm of valor, all his foemen on the earth,
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didst thou hide the Barton lineage obbed a chief of that full liar, as
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a man in folds of garments seeks to hide the flaming fire. Urgent Wilder
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of Gandhi was for us no true or stay. Then was Karne for the
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Curus In the battle's drd array monarchs match. Not Carne's glory nor his deeds
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of valor done means the mighty carbon Warriors, mightiest warrior, krn Shorn was
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eaten, our eldest brother we have in the battle, slain, and our
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nearest dearest elder fell upon the gory play. Not the death of our revenue
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from the affairs of Hadratorn, Not the slaughter of the princess by the proud
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drop of the born, Not the fall of Kuru warriors, nor Pancha's mighty
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host like die that afflicts my bosom, noble Kern loved and lost, Monarch's
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empire, Victor's glory. All the treasure's art can yield righteous, bless and
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heavenly gladness, harvest of the swark's field, All that wish can shape and
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utter, all that nourish can hope and pride. All were our, so
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noble Karna, with thee by thy brother's side, and this carnage of the
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Curuz, these sad eyes had never seen. Peace had graced our blessed empire.
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Happy the art had beam long bewailed the sandy steir for his elder,
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loved and dead, and the oblation of the water to the noble carn maid
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and the royal names of Kuru viewed the slighted, freshening pain wept to see
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the gooded his tar offering to his brother slain, and the widowed Queen of
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Karn, with the women of his house, gave oblations to her hero wept
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her loved and slaughtered spous turned their rights to the departed, done oblations to
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the dead. Slowly, then the set survivors of the river's margins, spread
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far along the shore and sand bank of the sacred sea extreme made in matron,
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laved their bodies beneath the morning's holy beam, and ablutions done. The
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crew's slow and sad and cheerless part went their Way to Horace, dinner with
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a wide and vacant heart, and of Book eleven,