Karna's Wife (35 page)

Dread gripped Uruvi. Karna was silent, but Uruvi sensed he wanted to speak. She waited, afraid of what he was going to say. They stood quietly for a long time in the stillness of the dawn till she heard him speak, articulating each word clearly and evenly. ‘I know at last who my mother is, Uruvi.’

Her spirits lifted, edging away her irrational panic. But noticing the frozen despair on her husband’s face, she knew that the terror traumatizing her was not unfounded.

‘I met Krishna today,’ he began shortly, struggling with his inner torment.

Uruvi was puzzled. What had Krishna to do with the identity of Karna’s natural mother? ‘Karna, I don’t understand. When, or rather why, did you meet Krishna?’ she said, frowning. She sensed the strange stillness within him and knew that Karna was finding it difficult to accept an awful truth. She forced herself to be calm, and asked persuasively, ‘Oh, Karna, please say it. Tell me all. Please don’t hide anything from me—not now!’ she continued softly. ‘I am prepared to hear the worst, so say it!’

Karna leaned his head heavily against the marbled column behind him, as if the load on his mind was too heavy to bear. ‘Krishna, as you know, had come to Hastinapur to mediate,’ he started slowly. ‘He met Duryodhana, trying to make him see reason so that the war could be avoided. All his attempts failed, and on his return to Upalavya, he came to meet me with Satyaki, his Yadava relative. He asked me to ride with him in his chariot as he wanted to talk to me,’ Karna recounted, his tone suddenly monotonous. ‘We drove away from the city where no one could see us. We stopped at one point and Satyaki was told to remain in the chariot while Krishna took my hand and led me away so that we could talk. I was surprised, of course, but preferred to remain silent and let him do the talking. Krishna came to the point immediately. “You are a good man, the bravest warrior. You are learned and you are generous. You know your Vedas. You honour your dharma so much so that you are the very epitome of it. Yet, why are you siding with the sinful Duryodhana?” he asked me. “Why do you back the unrighteous? I don’t understand,” he said.’

Uruvi couldn’t help feeling vindicated. Krishna was saying what she had been trying to explain to Karna all along. Had he managed to convince Karna at last? As if reading each bit of her thoughts, Karna interposed, ‘I remembered your angry words, Uruvi, and I said, “O Lord, you are correct. The righteous should side with the righteous. But although I knew Duryodhana was impelled by questionable motives, I stood by him. Because I love him too much. He is more than my friend. He is my brother who acknowledged me for what I was—an archer and a warrior. Till then, no one had recognized my worth, for I was a low-born sutaputra for everyone else.’

Uruvi supposed that Karna must have stubbornly asserted his loyalty to his friend. Not even Krishna’s coaxing could have persuaded Karna to give up supporting Duryodhana. Yet she could not see the link between Karna’s unquestionable loyalty to Duryodhana and his questionable birth. She was still mystified. But before Karna went on to tell her what had happened, she knew he had reasoned with Krishna just as he had once argued with her and won.

‘Years ago, in this same city at the archery contest, Duryodhana gave me honour, respect and dignity as a man, as a warrior and as a friend. Guru Dronacharya refused to accept me as his disciple as I was a sutaputra. Rejected, I lied to Guru Parshurama about my identity and was cursed for the betrayal. At the contest, I was insulted by the Pandavas, booed by Bhima and scorned by Arjuna. Why? Because I was a low-caste human who had no right to string the bow. I threw a challenge at him and, since then, I have been termed arrogant! I have been jeered at for my dare and constantly reminded that I am but a sutaputra. But each time, Duryodhana supported me. I am not indebted to him for crowning me King of Anga because I have never desired kinghood. All I wanted was the dignity and honour I think I deserved—and he gave it to me every time. Touched and full of gratitude, I asked him how I could repay him and he held my folded hands, saying, “I want your friendship. Nothing else.” Years have lapsed and I still remain his friend, indebted to him as I am to another person, my mother Radha. These are the two people to whom I owe everything. One saved me as a deserted baby, the other saved me from social ostracism. I live only for them because they have always supported me.’

Karna paused, as if paying respect to both Radha and Duryodhana. He said, ‘Lord Krishna was quiet. After some time, he agreed that the debt of gratitude I owe to them is the most difficult to repay. And then he asked me a question: “Who are your real parents? Do you know anything about your birth?” he asked gently.’

Uruvi knew the moment of truth was drawing near and the nervous apprehension made her feel suffocated.

Karna continued, ‘I replied that I did not know who my natural parents were. But for me, my parents are Adhiratha and Radha. And I am Radheya, the son of Radha.’

‘“No, your mother is a queen,” said Krishna kindly, his eyes soft with compassion. “She was the princess who served Sage Durvasa so devotedly that she was granted an unusual boon. Through a mantra, she could invite any god and have a child from him. The curious girl that she was, the princess decided to try out the mantra and invoked Lord Surya, the sun god. To her dismay, suddenly, a radiant figure appeared before her. Scared and shocked, the girl tried to shoo him away, but he told her he could not go back because the mantra had come into play. And that was how you were born—as the son of Surya, you were born with the kavach and kundals which would protect you all your life. As an unmarried mother, she was forced to leave you in the Ganga, but she could never forget you, her first child.’”

Uruvi felt a faint sense of unease. The story was sounding vaguely familiar; she had heard it before. His mother had been a princess…Sage Durvasa…her mind was racing back, trying to remember the story. Karna’s deep baritone broke through her muddled thoughts as he continued with his narration. ‘The moment Lord Krishna said my mother had been a princess, my heart leaped with surprise, joy, jubilation—I am not sure exactly what, Uruvi, but I knew at the moment that I was happy, deliriously happy; that I was a kshatriya, not a sutaputra! I could finally throw off the yoke of being a low-caste person! I turned to Krishna, my curiosity prompting me to ask more questions. “I am a kshatriya!” I almost laughed with joy. “You talk of my mother as if you know her. Is she alive? Where is she?” I pleaded. He took my hands in his and said quietly, “Your mother is also the mother of five sons who are famous as the best warriors in the kingdom. They, too, are as brave and heroic as you are…’”

‘My foster mother, Kunti?’ gasped Uruvi, her incredulity almost making her choke.

‘Yes. My mother is Queen Kunti,’ Karna pronounced this affirmation so softly that it came out as a ragged whisper. ‘And I am the son of Lord Surya.’

She stared at him, dumbstruck, the shock of his disclosure leaving her numb. Her lips moved; she wanted to speak but the words stuck in her throat. She swallowed painfully.

Karna, the greatest, most honourable warrior of the Aryavarta—the great country he had established—stood tall and proud. ‘At last I know who I am. I am a kshatriya, Uruvi, that identity I so desired all my life.’ His lips twisted in an enigmatic smile. ‘I am of blue blood
and
of celestial lineage, one of the royalty. But I am also an illegitimate son! An unwanted son, flung away by my unmarried princess-mother and a celestial god. Is this how I now introduce myself?’ he said harshly. ‘Suddenly I have this other family—Lord Surya, my father, Kunti, my mother, and the Pandavas, my five brothers! But no one in it whom I can actually call mine! I am yet the sutaputra. A kshatriya yet not a kshatriya!’

Uruvi realized that Krishna had revealed the truth, but it was yet not acknowledged. Karna’s ambiguous identity, his shadowy parentage had been known all along to two people—Krishna and Kunti—but they had preferred to hide this truth from the man they owed it to. A hidden truth is as good as a lie. The truth had been kept a secret for reasons unknown, but the truth had to be told to whom it mattered most.

With rising bewilderment and consternation, Uruvi exclaimed, ‘Why? But why did Krishna decide to tell you now after all these years? There must be a reason!’

‘Because it was the need of the hour. The time to tell me was now, not earlier.’ Karna sighed. ‘I asked him the same question—why was I being told now when it was clear that both he and my mother had kept silent for so long. For ages, I had longed to know who my parents were. For years, I had been searching for this truth I was denied. When I asked Krishna why he had chosen to reveal it now, he said, “Because I want to save you from a certain death. I want you to live. I want you to be saved from this war.”’ Karna paused, his voice thick with emotion.

‘What else did Krishna say?’ she asked. ‘Tell me, Karna, please.’

‘With his voice full of compassion and wisdom, Krishna told me, “I commend your loyalty, Karna. But according to dharma, you are the eldest Pandava, the first-born child of Kunti. From your mother’s side, you are my cousin. As the eldest Pandava, you are fit to be king. You are as righteous as Yudhishthira, as powerful and compassionate as Bhima, as skilled in archery and warfare and as brave as Arjuna, as handsome as Nakul, and as wise and learned as Sahadeva. Come and join me. Be with your brothers and mother. I shall give you the kingdom that you deserve.’”

‘He wanted to make you the king of Hastinapur?’ Uruvi cried incredulously.

Karna continued relentlessly. ‘Yes. And more! I was too shocked to react. I was silent for a long time and was too taken aback at what he had told me. And then Krishna added, “Draupadi can be your wife too.”’

‘No!’ Uruvi cried softly, shaking her head. Her mind was spinning. ‘He offered you everything!’ The rain outside fell with a heartless insistence, pouring straight and heavy, with an infuriating persistence.

Karna smiled mirthlessly. ‘Yes, it was the ultimate temptation! I was at last getting a throne, an identity, a new family—and a wife!’

‘What was your reply?’ she burst out, her fists clenched tight.

‘What did you expect me to say, Uruvi?’ he asked quietly. ‘How well do you really know me? That I would throw away everything that I have and grab what he was gifting me? Oh God, Uruvi, after all these years you still think I am pining for Draupadi, and just because he tried to bribe me by using her name, that I would take up the offer?’

‘Karna, each day I live in the fear that I shall lose you…’ she whispered brokenly.

‘You will lose me only through death, Uruvi,’ he said calmly, drawing her close. ‘Through nothing and nobody else!’

She placed her cool cheeks on his chest, hearing his heart thudding wildly. She tightened her arms around him, fearful he would leave her. ‘Don’t talk of death,’ she pleaded. ‘You refused Krishna?’

‘Yes, he was offering me the world, heaven, the whole universe—but why? Why now, after all this while? Not for my sake. I would get all this only if I switched sides. I had to be a Pandava to fight against the Kauravas. It was their last resort, their last means to stop the war. As the first Pandava, I would be the king of Hastinapur, and like the Pandavas, Duryodhana would have accepted this gracefully and perhaps, gladly. I know for a fact that he would have surrendered his crown to me willingly and stood by me. Just as Yudhishthira would have, I am sure.’

‘Then it’s all for the best, isn’t it? There will be no war, there will be no feud, and there will be no bad blood any longer!’ And I won’t have to lose you in the war, she told herself silently. Hope laced her voice, her face brightened, but catching a glimpse of the bleak expression on her husband’s face, she knew she was wishing for a hopeless dream to come true.

‘Uruvi, you are such a foolish optimist!’ he laughed shortly. ‘You keep hoping for the most simple solutions!’ Karna turned grim again and his eyes grew grave. ‘I hate to disappoint you, but by revealing the truth now, they have left me defenceless. And that’s what I explained to Krishna.’

He refused heaven and prefers death, Uruvi cried silently.

She heard her husband’s soft words. ‘I bowed to him and said, “My Lord, out of the boundless concern you have for me, you told me the truth about my parents and my brothers. Yes, by dharma I may be a Pandava. But I am Radheya first. I was brought up by my mother, Radha, and Adhiratha with selfless love and unquestioning affection. Shall I spurn their love for a mother who left me when I was a baby? She does not need me. But Radha and Adhiratha do. Neither the whole world nor the biggest kingdom can make me either leave them or tempt me away from the bonds of their love. I cannot betray them nor can I betray Duryodhana. He is the only friend I have and I am indebted to him eternally. I would rather die than be ungrateful. I have promised him my everlasting support, and I shall not take back my word. What you are offering me has all the bright glitter of a new promise, but it cannot lure me from the truth that is so dear to me. You want to save me from a certain death? I would rather face that death than turn against my friend. The Pandavas are strong because they are under your protection. But I shall face them, knowing this, and die with my friend on the battlefield.”’

The passion in Karna’s voice rang true; there was a savage eloquence in his speech. He was strangely stirred, and as he spoke, she could feel him trembling against her. Uruvi wanted to ease his anguish but she allowed him to express his feelings. Outside, the pitiless rain fell with a fierce malignity.

‘I have to help Duryodhana. I am his only hope. By my death on the battlefield, I shall seek release from this bondage of love, friendship and life,’ Karna said hopelessly. ‘I told Krishna: “I have never been Fortune’s child. I have always been scorned by these very Pandavas for my low birth! Now you say that they are my brothers and that I, too, am a high-born warrior. I had sworn to kill them. By revealing the truth when war is about to begin, Lord, you have robbed me of my last weapon. Why are you destroying my life by telling me this now? Why have you chosen to tell me the secret of my birth today? I have dreamt of combatting Arjuna on the battlefield, but now, how can I fight him or any of my brothers? I know we shall lose the war, but I must fight beside Duryodhana, even if we are doomed.”’