Karna's Wife (34 page)

If there was any glimmer of hope for a peaceful settlement between the warring cousins, it was doused with the failure of Lord Krishna to mediate. That morning when Uruvi went on her weekly visit to Kunti, she feared it would probably be the last one before the war began. It would be a war to the death. After completing their thirteen years of exile, the Pandavas had shifted to Upalavya, another city in the Matsya kingdom, which was to become a seat of political intrigue. They sent envoys to recall their friends, relatives and allies. And amongst those who arrived there was the young, handsome Abhimanyu, the son of Arjuna and Subhadra. His arrival was doubly meaningful for he was to marry the Matsya princess, Uttara.

‘Is it the last good news we shall hear?’ Uruvi asked fearfully, turning to Vrushali in utter misery. Kunti had left joyfully for the grand wedding to be solemnized at King Virata’s resplendent palace.

Uruvi prayed silently, ‘O, give me the strength to live through the coming days…’

In the same palace, which witnessed the fabulous wedding of the young Abhimanyu with the lovely Uttara, another important alliance took place. Lord Krishna, with his older brother Balarama and his cousin Satyaki, the Yadava warrior, held a conference with other Pandava allies—the Matsya kings and princes, the Kasi prince and the Saibya ruler. They were meeting to discuss the peace initiative by the Pandavas. Also present was King Drupad with his two sons, Dhrishtadyumna and Sikhandin, and his five grandsons from his daughter Draupadi—Prativindhya, the son of Yudhishthira, Srutasoma from Bhima, Srutakirti from Arjuna, Satanik from Nakul and Srutakarma from Sahadeva. Abhimanyu was present too—his marriage did not stop him attending the important meeting.

At the same time, the Kauravas, too, held a conference to discuss preparations for war. They had spread the word and were acquiring new allies to assist them in the coming conflict. Uruvi wondered about her father and whom he would support. As an ally of the court of Hastinapur, he owed allegiance to the Kuru rulers but in principle, Uruvi knew he was for the Pandavas. Being the father-in-law of Karna made the situation more awkward for him. It would be assumed he would support his son-in-law.

‘I would like to stay neutral,’ he confided eventually to Uruvi.

‘You won’t be allowed to do so,’ Uruvi responded immediately. ‘One of them may attack our kingdom and we’ll be forced to retaliate.’

‘I like the way you say “we”, Uruvi,’ her father chuckled softly, though a trifle sadly. ‘Pukeya has always been yours. After me, it is you who will be declared as the queen of this kingdom. That’s why I am consulting you here right now!’ he said grimly. ‘I cannot be more diplomatic than this. I cannot bear to see the ruin of Hastinapur. Yet, I cannot take the side of the Kauravas to fight the Pandavas. The Pandavas are not asking for anything unreasonable—they simply want their lost kingdom back.’

‘Yes, but some people like Karna and Balarama argue that they cannot ask for the return of something they lost as a stake. If as a king, Yudhishthira could gamble away his kingdom so carelessly, what right does he have over that same kingdom now? Does he have the moral right to be the ruler of a kingdom he so indifferently placed as a wager and eventually lost? Duryodhana has been a just king and has ruled his subjects well. They are not complaining against him. So then, why, they argue, should Duryodhana return what they lost in a wager?’

‘That is just a play on words,’ sighed the old king. ‘The Pandavas have been punished enough with the thirteen-year exile.’

‘Exactly! And that’s how the Kauravas see it. The fulfilment of the conditions of the exile means only personal freedom for the Pandavas and no claim for the kingdom.’

‘But the Pandavas were cheated out of their kingdom by foul means through a rigged dice game in the first place,’ King Vahusha expostulated. ‘This fight will lead nowhere, except to disaster!’

‘But I’ve heard both sides realize this…’ Uruvi looked pensive. ‘I have heard that the Pandavas did approach Duryodhana with a peace-offering through a brahmin of King Drupada’s court, after which Sanjay, King Dhritrashtra’s most trusted envoy, was sent to the Pandavas to give a reply. With the resulting impasse, Krishna offered to mediate and came down to Hastinapur. He said that all the Pandavas wanted was their lost kingdom—Indraprastha—and if not that, just five villages for the five brothers. Duryodhana flatly refused and declared he would not let go of even a needlepoint of territory. What option do the Pandavas have but to fight back? Duryodhana is cornering them so that they battle out the issue. It’s either quit or fight, win or lose.’

King Vahusha shook his head sadly. ‘How can a righteous war be wrong? There is no sin in defending oneself against an armed enemy. If the enemy provokes their opponents into a battle, the opponents can either submit and be called cowards, or hit back with all their strength and convictions. There is no other way out.’

‘To give the Pandavas their share of the kingdom would be the safest bet—and that’s what the patriarchs like Bhishma Pitamaha, Vidura and Guru Dronacharya have been trying to convince both the father and the stubborn son to do,’ said Uruvi. ‘But Duryodhana wants the war—just like Draupadi does. She has her own reasons. She has warned her husbands that if they do not fight this battle, she will fight the Kauravas with the help of her sons, her brothers and her old father, to avenge her humiliation.’

‘And Karna? What does he say? He has nothing to gain. He is so close to Duryodhana—can he not convince him not to start the war? Frankly, he is the only one who can knock some sense into the Kuru king. Duryodhana will not listen to his father, Bhishma Pitamaha, Dronacharya or even his mother Gandhari. But with Karna, it’s a different matter. Why doesn’t Karna dissuade Duryodhana from fighting the war?’

‘The answer to all those questions, Father, would be the story of my life!’ Uruvi laughed bleakly. ‘Karna knows the war is doomed to end in destruction. He wants it simply because he believes it is the kshatriya way of solving the problem—to battle it out face-to-face and may the stronger side win.’

King Vahusha was about to retort that the sutaputra was a fine one to talk about the kshatriya code of conduct. Then he felt a momentary twinge of shame; he had stooped to call a true warrior a sutaputra, doing exactly what society had inflicted indiscriminately on his son-in-law.

He was troubled to see his daughter look so sad. ‘Have you advised your husband against this war?’ he asked her gently. ‘Have you pleaded with him to discourage his friend from pursuing this ultimate folly? He has the power to do so. Child, try again and again. It is your last chance for peace.’

‘I have, Father, oh, how I have,’ she replied tiredly, ‘…but I fear I have already lost!’

Peace negotiations were on, with some diehard optimists like Bhishma Pitamaha and Guru Dronacharya sincerely working for a compromise. But even as the talks continued, contingents were getting ready for war. Stealthy efforts to acquire fresh allies went on and emissaries were insidiously at work. The prime catch was Krishna, though most knew that it was the Pandavas he would support. But wanting to be fair, he welcomed both Arjuna and Duryodhana when they visited him at Dwarka.

A sleeping Krishna woke up to find Arjuna at his feet and Duryodhana waiting for him to wake up. Duryodhana claimed he had reached first, demanding that he be heard first. Krishna gently reminded him that since it was Arjuna he had seen first on waking up, he would leave the first choice to Arjuna. The choice he gave for Arjuna and Duryodhana to pick was this: either it was him, Lord Krishna, on one side, on the conditions that he would not participate in the fighting nor pick up a weapon, or it would be the invincible power of Krishna’s huge army, including his tribesmen, the Narayanas at Dwarka. Arjuna selected Lord Krishna while Duryodhana went home delighted that he had so easily pocketed the huge army of Dwarka!

It was the worst act of stupidity by the Kauravas, according to Uruvi. ‘I always thought Duryodhana was arrogant but not stupid!’ Uruvi exclaimed to her husband. ‘That man is actually gloating that he has Krishna’s army and not Krishna himself! Doesn’t he see he made a colossal mistake?’

‘But when was he given the right to make a choice?’ Karna asked with a shake of his head. ‘He was never given the option, though he believes he had one! It was Arjuna who made the first move and what he selected was, yes, the best option. Duryodhana has not realized he was made a complete fool because he is under the impression that he got away with the better deal. That is why he is rejoicing over a wrong move!!’

‘Arjuna knows if he has Lord Krishna on his side, he needs no army, he needs no further blessing. And that is how Lord Krishna will become Arjuna’s charioteer, the Parthasarthy.’

‘But that was always the case, wasn’t it? Krishna would never have gone for Duryodhana anyway. It was smart diplomacy, a clever move typical of Krishna!’

‘But it is not the way Duryodhana hoodwinked King Salya to support him,’ Uruvi was quick to point out. ‘Flattered by Duryodhana’s fabulous hospitality, King Salya of Madradesh was so impressed that he deserted the Pandavas. Nakul and Sahadeva are his nephews, the sons of his dead sister Madri, and he owed them his allegiance. But Duryodhana again has made a huge mistake. Forcing King Salya to join him doesn’t mean the Madra king will be a devoted supporter. He is a reluctant ally. That he was forced to submit rankles and he will see to it that he creates trouble in some way or the other.’

‘Oh, he has! He has already. He is going to be my charioteer,’ Karna announced with his usual composure.

Uruvi struggled for breath. ‘But he hates you! A charioteer is supposed to be the warrior’s best friend—guiding him, protecting him, saving him. This man will be the first one to wish you dead!’ As do so many others, she thought, knowing that Arjuna and the Pandavas would spare no effort to slay her husband. A pall of gloom weighed heavily on her and she could forsee the horror of another day.

‘Let’s leave it to fate,’ Karna said cryptically, sensing her hopelessness. ‘And to Lord Krishna.’ His tone said it all—he was resigned to his destiny, which he knew would run its own course.

Uruvi waited all night, but Karna did not come to her room. She must have dozed off fitfully, for when she woke up it was dawn, a pale streak on the eastern horizon with a few dark, ribbed clouds hiding the peeping sun. She noticed Karna had still not returned. Worried, she wondered what she would do next, when she saw him at last, standing near the open window, against the shadows. She moved closer, unwilling to disturb the strange sanctity of the early hours of the day, but wanting to break the silence. Karna looked distant as usual. The smile had disappeared from his face since he had returned from the campaign against King Virat. But today he looked like a man who had seen a ghost. He was barely aware of her presence, staring at the horizon, the waking sun changing in the distance to a hot pink flush. She turned to where he was looking. The outlines of the distant hills were becoming clearer, but clouds were swelling into dark, thick billows against the dull rumble of the darkened sky. It started to rain.