"We cannot fight this rakshasa today." said Bhishma to Drona. "Our men are weary. It is nearing sunset and the night of the rakshasas grows with the darkness. Let us deal with Ghatotkacha tomorrow."

The grandsire ordered his army to retire for the night. Duryodhana sat musing in his tent, his eyes filled with tears. He had lost many of his brothers in that day's battle.

"Sanjaya," exclaimed Dhritarashtra. "Every day, you give me nothing but bad news. Your tale has ever been one of sorrow--of defeat and loss of dear ones! I cannot stand this any more. What stratagem can save my people? How are We' going to win in this fight? Indeed, I am full of fear. It seems fate is more powerful than human effort."

"King " said Sanjaya in reply, "is this not all the result of your own folly? Of 'what avail is grief? How can I manufacture good news for you? You should hear the truth with fortitude."