Karna's Wife (43 page)

Ashwatthama had left, inconsolable in grief and anger. But she had not expected Duryodhana to visit her. She was shocked to see him in the middle of that night, outside her tent.

‘May I come in?’ he asked, his silhouette dark against the sky. The man who entered the tent was not the Duryodhana she had known all these years. The man standing before her was a ghost, pale and deathly.

‘I have just returned from talking to Bhishma Pitamaha. He told me everything!’ he murmured hoarsely. ‘Oh, Uruvi, why didn’t you tell me about Karna? Why didn’t you let me know that Karna, Radheya, was actually a Pandava? Were you afraid I would have hated him? That I could have disowned him? No! No, Uruvi—I now have Karna’s death to bear!’ he gave a muffled cry of pain.

‘Bhishma Pitamaha told me the story of Karna—his birth as a result of Lord Surya’s visit to Queen Kunti before her marriage, his subsequent abandonment by her in the river Ganga, how he was rescued and brought up by the charioteer, Adhiratha and Radha, his quest for knowledge, his rejection by Guru Dronacharya, the learning he acquired at Guru Parshurama’s ashram, the curse of Parshurama, the curse of the brahmin, his gifting away of his kavacha and kundals to Indra, and his meetings with Krishna and Queen Kunti. Uruvi, he was my friend, my mate, and he kept me in the dark while forfeiting his happiness, his life! I pushed him to a certain death!’ he cried, completely distraught. ‘Karna was above any caste, any social order—he was unique, too special! I always believed that Karna was a kshatriya; his actions, his thinking were those of a true kshatriya! I always owed him everything, but now, in his death, I am forever indebted.’

‘Karna wanted it that way,’ Uruvi said wearily, an ache persistently gnawing at her heart. ‘He did not want you to know the truth of his birth because he thought that would be an act of betrayal on his part.’

‘But if you had told me, Uruvi, I would have never allowed him to fight his own brothers…!’ he exclaimed. ‘Or did you think that I would pit brother against brother and snatch the crown?’ he looked at Uruvi and knew he had just confirmed his doubt. Uruvi had believed the worst of him. ‘I wouldn’t have done that. Not to Karna. Never!’ he said vehemently. ‘Karna was the rightful heir to the Hastinapur throne—I would have gladly given him that crown had I but known! Uruvi, did he think I was so unscrupulous that he did not trust me with this decision? For him, I would have forsaken the war and the throne. I owed it to him! But if this is what Karna desired, I shall respect the wishes of my friend. I will never reveal this secret to anyone—though I would like to shout out to the world how great my friend was, how fit to be king and more!’

Uruvi was full of wonder. These were his very words when he had fought for Karna’s self-respect at the archery contest at Hastinapur. His words
had
rung true though it was only now that she realized that he had been sincere.

‘Do not grieve, Duryodhana!’ she tried to console the devastated friend. ‘I have always thought ill of you. But not now! All my hatred for you is gone, Karna is gone!’ she choked. ‘Karna wanted to die like a warrior. He was one, he acted like one and he died like one,’ she said finally.

‘How can I not grieve for the greatness of my friend?’ he cried. ‘How can I not weep for his extreme devotion to me and our friendship? Karna knew that he was the eldest Pandava, yet he did not go to his brothers and chose to remain with me. He gave away his life for the sake of our friendship while fighting against his own brothers. Oh, why was I not killed instead of him?’ He kneeled at her feet, the tears streaming from his anguished eyes. ‘The greatest friend, my supporter, has fallen because of me! The war means nothing to me now—it was all so futile!’ he wept.

‘You can still stop this madness,’ she told him gently. ‘Make peace with the Pandavas and give them back their kingdom.’

‘I would, Uruvi, I would. I have lost everything! I don’t want Hastinapur any more. But the time has gone. Too much blood of our loved ones has been shed. I shall not let it go waste. I cannot surrender to escape death. By doing so, I shall be branded a coward by all! I know the outcome of this war. The Pandavas have won. And I have been defeated—but not by the Pandavas. I have been defeated by the selflessness of Karna. I did not deserve his friendship. And for him, I want to die too—I want to die on the battlefield. Like a kshatriya. Like Karna.’

It was the day of Karna’s funeral. Duryodhana was wracked with grief. So was Vrushali. She had quietly slipped into her room and kept herself locked in, trying to gather some semblance of her shattered life. She had cut herself off from the outside world. Adhiratha and Radha were inconsolable in their sorrow, and when they were eventually told the truth of Karna’s birth, they broke down completely. ‘Who am I supposed to cry for? My Radheya? My Shona? I was lucky to have two such good sons. But Radheya was the ideal son and till the end, he never gave up on us!’ wept the old man.

The night was long; the sun refused to rise the next day. Before daybreak, Uruvi dared to go to the battlefield, the place she loathed with her entire being. It was a heaving mass of humanity as funeral after funeral took place. She didn’t hear the shrieks in the air, didn’t see the blood flowing by her feet, she didn’t notice the stench of dead bodies heaped on the ground as she made her way through to look for Karna in the darkness.

And then she saw him lying slumped against the wheels of his chariot. She went closer to his prostrate form. Karna had always a luminous quality about him, and even in death, his body shimmered, his face reflecting an inner serenity, a certain tranquillity never visible before. The angst-ridden man was free of his yoke of torment at last.

She saw a shadow behind her. She turned quickly. It was Krishna and behind him stood the five Pandavas with their mother.

‘Yudhishthira wants to light the pyre for his elder brother,’ Krishna told her gently.

Uruvi looked searchingly at him. He nodded slowly. Her gaze went past him to the elderly lady standing behind, hunched and unsure. Kunti seemed to have aged dramatically in the past days. The five brothers were close together, their heads bowed, looking clearly uncomfortable.

Uruvi slowly shook her head. She heard Kunti gasp.

‘As his brother, it is Yudhishthira’s duty to light the funeral pyre,’ Krishna reminded her softly. ‘Are you still angry with them, dear? They acted out of ignorance. Now they know the truth.’

Uruvi looked at Karna’s still face, his broken body. ‘Is that wretched truth supposed to change anything now? Isn’t it all too late? Anyway, I don’t wish to say more on this…but it was Karna’s last wish that it would be you, my lord, who would light his funeral pyre. If you don’t think it presumptuous, I would be thankful if you would oblige,’ she said stiffly, speaking with difficulty.

Krishna placed his hand on her head. ‘Yes, I shall and I consider it an honour. Karna was a hero and died a hero’s death. In this world of greed, power and betrayal, only one man—Karna—has followed the path of righteousness. Not even his other brothers could do it. And I am mourning the death of this great man of all the three worlds,’ said Krishna.

Uruvi heard Kunti give a small sob, but she did not turn around. Krishna turned to the weeping mother and said, ‘Kunti, your son was so upright throughout his life that even in his last hours, the goddess of righteousness herself sought to protect him! The only way to kill this good man was to deprive him of all his righteousness. I tried. You had tried earlier too, Kunti, but both of us failed.’

‘On the battlefield, I tried again. When Arjuna was attacking the fallen Karna with his shower of arrows, I went to him in the guise of a poor brahmin and told him that I had come all the way to ask him for a favour. The ever-generous Karna, despite his pain and the fact that he was close to death, said, “All I can give you now, sir, is my life. I shall happily give that to you!” I said, “Of what use is your life to me?” Karna replied, “Please, sir, ask for anything you want.”’

‘“I am a sinner and I need all the righteousness and dharma you have to save myself from going to hell. I need the fruits of all your good deeds.”’

‘And without thinking twice, the injured Karna cut his abdomen and spilled his virtuous blood on my hand, saying, “O brahmin sir, you have given this sutaputra an opportunity to redeem himself.”’

The others stood in silence and in shame as Krishna continued, ‘Karna, by this last selfless act, was deprived of the last quality that separated him from the lesser mortals—his righteousness. And touched by his generosity, I showed him my original, universal form—my Vishwaroop—and asked him for a boon. He replied, “Although I can request you to give victory to Duryodhana and bring his slain army back to life, I shall not do so. I wish for just two things—that upon my death, Queen Kunti should declare publicly that I was her son and that I am no longer a low-caste man.”’

Uruvi now turned to look straight at the cowering figure of Kunti. She had buried her face in her hands, unable to bear the message of her dead son. Nor could she bear to suffer the scornful stares of Uruvi and her five remaining sons. Even in his last moments, Karna had almost begged his mother to publicly acknowledge him as her son. Uruvi felt rage leap at her throat. She wanted to lash out at this heartless woman who had forsaken her son and refused to accept him even in his death. Would she ever stop hating Kunti? Uruvi looked contemptuously at her now, wanting to mock her for at last having the courage to divulge the terrible secret to her sons. Oh, how she hated this woman!

Krishna, looked at her and shook his head. ‘The second boon Karna asked of me was to fulfil a wish of his that he had not been able to carry out himself—that of annadanam—his wish to distribute food to others so as to liberate his soul from the cycle of births. That was one wish he regretted he could never carry out, as people avoided eating in the house of a low-born man. Karna’s third request was “Please light my pyre on the most barren part of the earth so that no man may suffer the pain I did.” Respecting his wishes, I am here, Uruvi, to do the needful.’

Krishna made arrangements for Karna’s funeral with the help of the Pandavas. When the ceremonies were over, he lit the pyre, acceding to the last wish of Karna. Ashwatthama was there with King Salya. Uruvi was surprised to see Draupadi join the mourners, her head bowed low, hiding the expression on her face. But her bent head and her shoulders cut a figure of quiet grief.

Uruvi stood a distance away from the Pandavas. Kunti tried to approach her but Uruvi’s frozen look stopped her. Uruvi noticed the genuine sorrow on the faces of each of the Pandavas. Yudhishthira and Arjuna looked the most wretched. She wondered how the Pandavas had reacted to their mother’s revelation. Two brothers hating each other all through their lives, two brothers the most bitter rivals, two brothers always ready to kill the other. All because of a mother who kept her secret selfishly locked away and let it all happen. Uruvi turned her face away, wanting to turn away from these people, unable to forget how each one of them had hurt her husband throughout his life. Had Karna forgiven them? She still could not bring herself to even think of forgiveness!

Uruvi stared into the rising flames of the pyre, feeling a similar fire raging through her. She did not know if it was pain or wrath but it seemed as if the flames were licking her and engulfing her swiftly.

And so, the funeral of Karna was conducted in solemn grandness as would befit a Pandava. And ironically, it was at his funeral that Karna gained legitimacy—something he had craved for all his life. He had eventually earned his rightful place.

For the first time, Duryodhana was not looking forward to the battle the next day. It was the eighteenth fateful day of the war—and ended as swiftly as it had begun.

When King Salya was felled by Yudhishthira and the last generals were killed, the Kaurava army lost all hope. And among the ruins of his army and all his dead brothers, stood a lone Duryodhana, who fought to the death. Overwhelmed with grief, and having lost his will to live, Duryodhan was almost suicidal. As he burned with hate, anger, pain and repentance, he went into a pool to cool his body. The Pandavas, searching frantically for their last enemy, found him there and surrounded the pool, jeering at him and calling him a coward for hiding in the water to escape certain death at the hands of Bhima. With them was Krishna.