Karna's Wife (28 page)

A few days later, there was shocking news. Duryodhana had been seized by Chitrasen, the Gandharva king, at Dwaitvana. Karna and the Kaurava army had been vanquished by the magical weapons of the angry Gandharva king and had to retreat in haste. Uruvi was secretly pleased that the fiend seemed to have taught Duryodhana a lesson at last, hoping that he had met his match finally. But her glee vanished abruptly when she got to know that Duryodhana’s rescuers were none other than Bhima and Arjuna, who had come to their cousin’s aid in his hour of distress. She was flummoxed and so was the entire city of Hastinapur when they heard how the two Pandavas, on Yudhishthira’s orders, had rescued the evil Kuru prince from the clutches of Chitrasen. So much for real goodness, Uruvi thought in exasperation.

Karna’s return home was a sombre one. Uruvi fathomed a deep restlessness in him. In his anguished self-flagellation, he was punishing himself for not being able to protect his friend, for failing to rescue Duryodhana from the Gandharva king. He had never felt as crushed and routed as he did now, not even when he was cruelly ridiculed by Bhima at the archery contest at Hastinapur. ‘What sort of a friend am I?’ he said aloud in a tormented voice. ‘I could not help my friend in his darkest hour. Fighting the Gandharvas on the other side, I was too late to save him. My friend might forgive my blunder but how can I ever forgive myself?’

Duryodhana’s homecoming was equally tortured and turbulent. Writhing in shame, the humiliated Kuru king declared his wish to fast unto death. He locked himself in his room and refused to come out for days. He even offered his crown to his brother Dushasana, saying he could no longer face the world as a disgraced king. And Uruvi had never seen her husband so troubled. He devoted all his waking hours to his disheartened friend, dissuading him from such idle talk. ‘This is not the way a king talks,’ he told him. ‘What is the use of fasting to death? That is not the way out of disgrace. There is no sense in dying; it’s only when you are alive that you can do anything worthwhile. Rise and fight instead!’

Karna was also tormented by the fact that it was Arjuna who had rescued Duryodhana. Uruvi recalled Bhishma Pitamaha’s words. He had said that Karna, the blazing, brilliant sun, was eclipsed by the worthy Arjuna each time solely because he was blotted by the dark clouds of the Kauravas. Had Karna finally realized that he was doomed never to win any battle against his most bitter foe, Arjuna? Yet he fought on with his never-say-die belligerence.

She had to be just to Arjuna too. Her blind love for Karna did not permit her to recognize Arjuna’s inherent qualities. She had not played fair with him either, but he had never retaliated with either unkindness or cruelty. He had been cold and unfriendly but never aggressive. She remembered him as a young boy. He had been gentle, kind, dutiful, singularly brave and highly principled. Those were the reasons why he was everyone’s favourite, particularly of Krishna, Bhishma Pitamaha and Guru Dronacharya, much to the chagrin of Duryodhana and the other Kuru princes. She had felt and experienced the animosity between the Kauravas and the Pandavas all those long years ago. Had it been squashed by Bhishma Pitamaha and the parents of the cousins early enough, the hostility could have died out. But the scheming Shakuni had fanned the resentment instead, allowing it to grow into a vituperative hatred that would eventually consume the Kuru princes.

Arjuna’s real asset was his sincerity, which pushed him to chase perfection. Though born in a great family of warriors, he did not allow himself to be content and self-satisfied like his brothers. He did not rest on the laurels of his illustrious family but drove himself harder to become the greatest archer and the mightiest warrior. He was a little vain about his achievements, but even Uruvi had to concede that he had never abused his huge power as a popular prince, but remained gentle and kind. He fought against the wrongs done by the evil Kauravas with spirited resilience, and yet, he hesitated to take definitive action against them because his strong sense of loyalty could not make him disown his blood relatives. His animosity for Karna, however, was not tempered by any such sentiment for he was not a blood relation—he was his implacable foe.

Karna and Arjuna had inadvertently begun a terrible rivalry years ago which was to pan through their lifetime. Guru Dronacharya had refused to accept Karna as his disciple, upon which Karna had sworn to prove himself. It whetted his resentment against the collective ranks of kings and nobility and Arjuna in particular.

Karna’s first confrontation with Arjuna at the archery contest at Hastinapur was as bitter as the others to come. Karna lost Draupadi to Arjuna; Arjuna lost Uruvi to Karna. And now this outrageous episode of Draupadi’s disrobing at the Kuru hall, where Karna had stripped Arjuna and Draupadi of the last vestige of self-respect, turned out to be a point of no return. Both were waiting impatiently for an open fight. And now it deeply irked Karna that he had not been able to save his friend Duryodhana. Instead, it had been his hated rival Arjuna who had won the round by capturing the Gandharva king and Karna had lost face.

The days passed with excruciating slowness. In the sprawling palace of the King of Anga, Karna’s family watched him suffer with remorse. He was like a man haunted, trapped in the helplessness of his friend’s misery, Uruvi mused. He could not bear to watch Duryodhana’s desolation and lashed out at himself for the unseemly situation his friend was in. Uruvi could see that he was battling emotions that were crushing him.

‘I shall vanquish the Pandavas!’ Uruvi heard him shout in fury. He was talking to himself, his face a shadow against the blinkered rays of the setting sun. ‘O Duryodhana, I shall conquer once and for all the cause of your despair. I swear to you that when the Pandavas’ exile of thirteen years is over, I shall kill Arjuna in battle!’ And with those words, he touched his sword and bowed his head to seal the terrible oath.

As his words floated down to her, Uruvi heard an incensed Arjuna’s vow echoing in her ears. ‘I shall kill Karna one day in battle,’ he had told her in his rage. Uruvi closed her eyes in despair, her husband’s vow reiterating the other terrible oath she had heard long before.

Uruvi was to hear the terrible words uttered again by Karna in the royal assembly of Hastinapur when Karna publicly declared his oath once more. The grand occasion was the Vaishnava ceremony organized by Karna in honour of his friend as the emperor of the newly gained, extensive empire. The rites of this ceremony were considered the ultimate war sacrifice. The king performing the sacrifice—in this case it was Karna, on behalf of Duryodhana—would have openly dared the kings in the empire and forced them to either accept his supremacy or fight him. If the king returned after defeating all the other rulers, the performance of the sacrifice would send him to the highest abode of Lord Vishnu, the supreme god. Karna had accomplished even this task for his friend, Uruvi thought bitterly.

Duryodhana had wanted to perform a Rajasuya sacrifice, similar to the one King Yudhishthira had held the previous year. But he was advised by the brahmins to perform the Vaishnava sacrifice instead—according to them, while King Dhritrashtra and his cousin Yudhishthira were alive, Duryodhana could not hold the Rajasuya sacrifice. Fortunately, in unexpected good humour, Duryodhana accepted the brahmins’ advice and went ahead with the Vaishnava celebrations in splendour.

.‘I shall kill Arjuna in battle. If anyone—even Death himself—intervenes to protect Arjuna, I shall slay him. Until I have destroyed Arjuna, I will not eat meat or drink wine,’ he announced in a sombre tone. ‘And I promise not to turn down any requests and to grant favours to anyone who asks me after my morning prayers—just as I have done for a long time.’

His solemn vow evoked the expected response. The sons of King Dhritarashtra, except the kind-hearted Vikarna and the wise Yuyutsu, shouted with joy and the old king could not stop smiling. Karna was their strongest ally; he was their supporter, unequivocally and indisputably. War was imminent and death a certainty, for there would be no truce between the Kauravas and the Pandavas. Peace had never stood a chance.

Uruvi saw the dreams of possible harmony crushed in the shattered faces of Kunti, Guru Dronacharya, Vidura and Kripacharya. She glanced at the one man who still had the power to stop the war. But she saw the last hope dying in the aged, weary eyes of Bhishma Pitamaha as well. The old hostility had been revived to begin the prelude to the finale. It was all so hopeless.

Uruvi was seized with a helplessness she despised herself for. She felt powerless to stop the unavoidable momentum of events, which would end in needless tragedy. She feared for her future—and that of Karna’s. She loathed the fact that it was Karna who was instigating a confrontation; a conflict, Karna argued, that was inescapable and would, sooner or later, turn into a war between the cousins.

She rushed out of the Raj Sabha, her hasty exit observed by Kunti, Duryodhana and Bhishma Pitamaha. But she would not spare her husband; he was pushing for a war she dreaded. She desperately wanted to salvage a losing battle but did not know how. More worried than angry, Uruvi confronted Karna the moment she could talk to him in the quiet seclusion of her room.

‘Are you aware that Arjuna, too, has sworn to kill you in battle?’ she asked, her belligerence sharpening her tone.

Karna made a gesture of indifference. ‘Yes, I have heard so. Does it make a difference?’ he shrugged. ‘Just as war between the cousins is inevitable, so is the final face-off between him and me. I have been waiting for years for this. I have lived for this moment.’

Uruvi felt a familiar rage rising within her. ‘What sort of madness are you living in?’ she lashed out in fury. ‘Are you beginning a war to serve your end—to fight Arjuna? How can you ever win when you are backing evil? Why are you not on the side of Truth? Karna, you may be virtuous, but oh, you are so very wrong! There will be war, there will be total destruction. Why are you hell-bent on being so stubborn? Why, oh, why are you so unwise? You talk about killing Arjuna but with Krishna by his side, he is invincible. He will not allow you to win. Never. A war with Arjuna means certain death for you.’

‘I know.’

His quiet affirmation shocked her into silence, robbing her of further speech. Uruvi stared at him in disbelief. Perhaps that was his way of admitting that he was accepting the inevitable. He seemed to cruelly taunt her—that she had been right all along. She had won, he had lost. But was she supposed to be happy? She had been defeated, too, and was about to lose the one person she loved the most.

‘I know I am going to be killed by Arjuna in the war and it is not just because he says so,’ Karna continued, his voice hard and relentless. ‘It is because I am a cursed man, Uruvi. I should have told you this earlier, but I didn’t have the heart nor the courage to reveal my secret to anyone. I want to tell you the truth.’

Terror froze her. She wanted to scream at him to stop; she did not want to hear any more bad tidings. But he began to speak slowly, his face as expressionless as his voice, ‘I have been living a cursed life—I carry the weight of curses spelt out by different people at different times. Years ago, rejected by Guru Dronacharya because of my low birth, I sought the tutorship of Guru Parshurama, the warrior sage who taught martial arts to everyone, except kshatriyas. I was forced to lie for I did not dare tell him that I was a sutaputra. Claiming I was a brahmin boy, I devoted myself to learning how to use the Brahmastra, the deadly weapon, a missile created by Lord Brahma himself. With my devotion to him and determination, I soon became his favourite disciple. One day, while my guru rested his head on my lap, a bee burrowed into my thigh, stinging me,’ Karna recounted, a clinical detachment in his voice. ‘It hurt terribly but I bore the excruciating pain silently so that I would not disturb my guru. On waking up, my guru noticed my blood-mottled thigh—and swiftly realized that only a kshatriya could withstand such intense pain. Incensed at the deception, Guru Parshurama cursed me, saying, “You will forget the Brahmastra and all that I have taught you at the moment you need it most.” I tried to explain that I was not a kshatriya, but was a sutaputra who yearned to become a warrior. He calmed down a little and even regretted he had cursed me in a moment of anger, but said he could not take back the curse. Instead, to recompense me, he gifted me with the celestial weapon, Bhargavastra, along with his personal bow, the mighty Vijay, which I carry with me to this day—it has helped me win so many battles and wars. He blessed me with everlasting glory and fame. But each time I look at my bow, I remember his curse—that I shall forget all that I have learnt in my darkest hour. If that is not death, what is, Uruvi?’

Karna did not want to stop; it was as if a dam had burst within him. He wanted to tell Uruvi everything and she could feel his desperation. ‘On my way back home, in utter despair, I practised the ‘Shabdavedi Vidya’, the ability to hit a target by listening to sounds. But unfortunately, I shot an arrow, from the mighty Vijay bow my guru had just gifted me, at a cow, mistaking it for a wild animal,’ he continued tonelessly. ‘The arrow killed the helpless cow and its incensed owner, a brahmin, cursed me, screaming that I would die a similar death, that I, too, would be helpless in my last moments. And that is what fate has in store for me, Uruvi. I might not die a hero’s death in the battlefield, after all. This is what I fear most in my life. I dread my death for this one reason!’