In this world I do not find anything, even on reflection, to be stable, in consequence of the inevitable connection of acts. When the preceptor himself is dead, who then will indulge in the certain belief that he will live till even today's sun-rise? When the preceptor was thus slain by the enemy in battle, without doubt weapons, ordinary and celestial, and might and prowess, and achievements and wise policy, are not able to compass the happiness of man. In energy Drona was equal to fire or the Sun, in prowess he resembled Vishnu or Purandara; in policy he was equal to Brihaspati or Usana; irresistible as he was, weapons could not yet protect him. When (our) women and children are weeping and uttering loud wails, when the valour of the Dhartarashtras has been defeated, I know it, O Shalya, that it is I who am to fight. Proceed therefore, against the army of our enemies. Who else, save myself, will be able to bear those troops amongst whom are stationed the royal son of Pandu firm in truth, and Bhimasena and Arjuna, and Satyaki, and the twins? Therefore, O ruler of the Madras, proceed quickly, in this battle, towards the Pancalas, the Pandavas, and the Srinjayas. Encountering them in battle, either I will slay them, or myself to Yama's presence by the path taken by Drona. Do not think, O Shalya, that I will not go into the very midst of those heroes. These intestine dissensions cannot be tolerated by me. (Without seeking to tolerate them) I will even follow in the wake of Drona. Wise or ignorant, when his period is run out, everybody is equally regarded by the Destroyer; no one can escape, O learned one, for this, I will proceed against the Parthas. I am unable to transgress my destiny. The son of Vichitravirya's son is, O king, always engaged in doing me good. For the accomplishment of his purpose, I will cast away my life-breaths that are so dear, and this body that is so difficult of being cast away. This foremost of cars covered with tigerskins, with axle producing no sound equipped with a golden seat endued with trivenu made of silver, and unto which are yoked these foremost of steeds, Rama gave unto me. Behold, also, O Shalya, these beautiful bows, these standards, these maces, these shafts of fierce forms, this blazing sword, this mighty weapon, this white conch of fierce and loud blare. Riding upon this car decked with banners, its wheels producing a rattle deep as that of the thunder, having white steeds yoked unto it, and adorned with excellent quivers, I will, putting forth my might, slay in battle that bull among car-warriors, Arjuna. If Death himself, that universal consumer, were to protect with vigilance the son of Pandu in battle, I would still encounter him in fight and either slay him or myself go to Yama's presence following Bhishma. If Yama, Varuna, Kuvera, and Vasava, with all their followers coming hither, unitedly protect the son of Pandu in this great battle, what need of many words, I