Karna's Wife (5 page)

The first rays of the early morning sun shimmered through the windows, over which a graceful tree cast its shadow. An immense creeper had draped around the filigreed balcony of Princess Uruvi’s bedroom, making her feel as if she was living in a treehouse as she basked in the freshness of early dawn, the golden sky auspiciously cloudless. ‘A promising way to start my wedding day,’ she thought, with a sudden burst of happiness.

She had slept with the buzz of festivities humming around her and was roused with the droning still in her ears. She woke up to a delightful sight. The palace resembled a floral palanquin. Flaming marigolds and crimson hibiscus with fragrant jasmine flowers, strung together into thick garlands, festooned each cornice and corridor of the palace. The perfume of the threaded flowers merged with the fresh scent of the dew-moistened earth. She heard the soft twitter of birds, the rustle of the gentle breeze in the garden. Finally, she saw the crimson light signalling the birth of a new day, and stepped inside for her bridal bath. Kunti was waiting for her, holding a silver bowl of sandalwood paste.

Kunti looked extraordinarily happy. Uruvi would now be her daughter for keeps and in a short while would make her home in the new palace in Indraprastha. For a moment, a frown darkened her brows as she wondered anxiously how her daughter-in-law Draupadi would welcome her husband Arjuna’s new bride. ‘I got the bridal silks especially made for you,’ she said instead, trying to erase the uneasy thought. ‘It’s a deep turmeric yellow—I know you love that colour, and you can wrap a red angavastra around,’ she said as she clasped an exquisite ruby ornament around Uruvi’s slender neck.

Uruvi was almost ill with the guilt swamping her. I can’t deceive Kunti, she thought frantically. I have to tell her that, contrary to her expectations, I won’t be choosing any of the Pandavas as my husband. Uruvi looked at Kunti and her heart swelled with emotion. She loved her so much but was about to hurt her so grievously. This was the woman whom she knew to be unbelievably patient, gentle and kind… and so giving. She thought she was a splendid example of a mother who had lived not for herself but for others. Suddenly, Uruvi asked her, ‘When you look back on your life, do you have any regrets, Ma?’.

Kunti was visibly surprised. ‘What a strange question! Is it a fit of bridal nervousness?’ she asked, her eyes twinkling. ‘And what’s this about regrets? You’re not having any qualms about this swayamwara, are you?’ she added anxiously.

‘No. No, I am not,’ Uruvi replied firmly. ‘I have been looking forward to this day for a long, long time. It’s just that I felt like opening up to you. We haven’t spoken for ages, and possibly, this will be our very last heart-to-heart talk before I get married,’ she said under her breath. ‘So, do you ever wish you had done anything differently?’ repeated Uruvi, looking into Kunti’s serene face.

‘Yes, I wish I hadn’t done some things! Hmmm, quite a few,’ Kunti’s voice trailed off, her tired eyes gazing at the rising sun. She slipped into a moment of wistful contemplation. Both the women settled into a companionable silence, not wanting to interrupt each others’ thoughts. ‘But let’s keep all that for another day!’ said Kunti, with her usual gentle smile.

‘Whenever I look at you, I get the feeling you conceal your real self,’ Uruvi revealed, sliding a jewelled hand in Kunti’s soft, wrinkled one. ‘It’s like you are playing a role, living up to an image. You are what the person in front of you wants you to be. What are you really like? How could you accept it when King Sura, your father, gave you away to Kuntibhoja, his cousin, because he was childless? I would have been furious—how dare he!’

‘Oh, dear, so many questions!’ the older lady laughed lightly. ‘Yes, I was upset—I felt I was a doll being presented to another person. As Pritha, the daughter of King Sura of the Yadavas, I was given away to King Kuntibhoja to be brought up in his home as Kunti. I grew up without a mother but with many maids and nannies. It was fun sometimes!’ she chuckled wryly. It was as if she was talking about someone else.

Uruvi looked at her closely and said affectionately, ‘And that’s how it has always been—you seemed to have everything, yet there was an emptiness in you. Ma, when will you learn to live for yourself?’ Uruvi tried to voice Kunti’s unspoken thoughts. ‘You have played so many roles all your life. As the little Pritha who was given away by her father, you were made to renounce your name to become Kuntibhoja’s daughter, Kunti! Kunti, the lovely princess, whom many princes wished to marry but who selected King Pandu at her swayamwara—only to lose him to his second wife, Princess Madri. Kunti, a wife who loved her husband so much that she let the childless Madri use the same boon she had been given by Sage Durvasa to invoke the divine twins, the Ashwini Kumaras, and give birth to Nakul and Sahadeva. Kunti, who would have preferred to have died with her husband, but lived to be a mother, not just to her sons but to the infant sons of Madri as well. Kunti, the queen who, in an instant, became a king’s widow without a kingdom. Kunti, the queen mother, who lived for years in dread, worried about the safety of her five sons. Kunti, the queen mother, yet overshadowed by Draupadi, the daughter-in-law. You are that amazing mother who has always loved me as a daughter. A woman who has an enormous capacity to love and to give, but what have
you
earned in the bargain…?’ Uruvi stopped as remorse sliced through her. She thought sadly, ‘And like others, I too, will hurt you.’

‘Stop dissecting me and tell me what the matter is. Why all these questions, dear? What’s troubling you?’

The moment of truth was at hand. Uruvi knew she owed it to Kunti. She blurted out in wretched helplessness, ‘I cannot marry Arjuna…I am in love with Karna.’ She hated herself as she watched the colour drain from the elderly queen’s face.

‘No!’ Kunti gasped in disbelief, a look of incredulity on her pallid face. ‘No, oh, no! Not Karna!’

Uruvi knew she had hurt the person whom she loved the most after her parents. She tried desperately to stem the flow of pain her confession had inflicted on Kunti. ‘I grew up with your sons. They are more like my childhood friends. And I do love them. I know you were hoping that I would marry Arjuna but I can’t, I can’t!’ Uruvi realized it was futile giving explanations or self-justifications. ‘I am sorry. So very sorry!’ she cried, hugging Kunti close. The queen mother suddenly looked old and frail.

For a long time, Uruvi and Kunti held each other close. Then the older woman disengaged Uruvi’s clinging arms and looked straight into her troubled face. ‘Do you realize what you are doing?’ she asked gently. ‘Forget that I want you as my daughter-in-law. Try to foresee what this marriage may lead to. Karna is already married, with children. His other wife is a suta, of his caste, but you are not. You will be the outsider in their home. Can you ever live happily with him and his family? You don’t even know what life is like away from these palace walls, and you are willing to give up everything to be just another woman in Karna’s life, competing for his attention. Will you be able to deal with the problems such a marriage will bring?’

‘I must if I have to,’ Uruvi’s eyes flashed with a familiar determined glint. ‘I know I will be happy with him and I will make him happy,’ she vowed.

Kunti stared at her for a long, wistful moment. ‘Is that all? That you want to make him happy?’ she whispered with a catch in her voice, looking searchingly at her.

‘Yes!’ cried Uruvi. ‘And I am not ashamed of falling in love with Karna. Nor am I ashamed of what I am going to do,’ she added slowly. ‘My feelings for Karna struck me suddenly, leaving me defenceless. He probably doesn’t even know I exist, he doesn’t know that there is this crazy girl who is madly in love with him. My world turned upside down the moment I saw him at Hastinapur that evening at the arena…’

She heard Kunti draw in her breath sharply. ‘You remember that day, Ma?’ Uruvi turned excitedly to the older lady, her face elated. ‘It was the most unforgettable day of my life!’

‘I don’t know why I care so much for him…but I do, very much!’ Uruvi continued, her face flushed as she thought of the man who had unknowingly captured her thoughts, her life. ‘I love him. I want him. I’ll do anything to have him and I’ll make him care for me! I’d even die for him…there, Ma, now you know!’

Kunti gave her a long, lingering look. ‘You are so tempestuous, child,’ she said finally. ‘Who would believe that you just uttered those words? There’s not an ounce of sentimentality in you—you have always been so down to earth…and there you go and fall in love! Now you are at once practical and passionate—not willing to let go of the chance you have to get what you want. I know you are capable of giving love. Most people can’t…’ she heaved a long sigh. ‘If that is how you feel, both of you have all my love and my blessings. Never fear, child, I am with you,’ Kunti tenderly kissed the bride’s forehead, her tears falling fast and thick. ‘May God give you the strength to lead the life you have chosen…the strength I lacked,’ she muttered under her breath. Uruvi couldn’t quite catch her words and frowned.

‘Wipe that frown off, dear, you have a new life awaiting you!’ Kunti smiled.

Uruvi was relieved that Kunti did not look miserable any more. In fact, Kunti’s smile was one of happiness.

The city of Pukeya turned festive as the people prepared to witness the opulence of a royal wedding. The glorious carousing rang out for fourteen celebratory days, the sound of drumbeats loud and clear. Colourful fairs, full of entertaining games and shows, had been arranged and there were gifts for everyone. The princes and suitors were as nervous as the giggling maids-in-waiting, walking briskly through the marbled hallways of the new guest-houses handsomely designed to accommodate the swayamwara guests.

The marriage hall was as imposing as the enchanting gardens encircling it. Its walls were covered with wild rose creepers, covering every inch in scented luxuriance. Against the rising palms and the vivid flame-of-the-forest trees, the lotus-shaped marriage hall bloomed, beautifully decorated with marigolds, roses, hibiscus and Princess Uruvi’s favourite wreaths of fragrant jasmines. ‘This is going to be the best day of my life,’ King Vahusha promised himself as he donned his royal robes, knowing it was probably his saddest day as well.

Princess Uruvi’s swayamwara was well-attended with many brave kings, princes and noblemen of the country seated under the golden dome of the marriage hall. The hundred sons of Dhritrashtra were in attendance, as well as the five Pandava princes. Krishna was there with his elder brother Balarama, as were Dhrishtadyumna, King Drupad’s son, Karna with his friend Ashwatthama (the son of Guru Dronacharya), Sisupala, the King of Chedi, and Jarasandha, the King of Magadha. The venerated triumvirate of the Hastinapur royal court, Bhishma Pitamaha, Guru Dronacharya and his brother-in-law, Guru Kripacharya, the chief priest, were present to bestow blessings on the couple, their dear princess who would surely choose everyone’s favourite, Prince Arjuna. Besides the suitors and royalty, the hall was packed with eager spectators from all over the kingdom. And above the din of voices, the festive drums beat rhythmically in accompaniment to the notes of a hundred musical instruments.

Karna wondered what he was doing in this resplendent hall, crowded with the bravest and noblest of kings. He wanted to be far away from this madness. This swayamwara was a travesty, he thought wryly, the outcome of which was known to all—Princess Uruvi of Pukeya would choose Prince Arjuna as everyone had guessed, and they would live happily ever after. Karna heaved a long sigh, trying to shut out a memory that was wrenching his soul…Draupadi’s swayamwara.

The marriage hall at Panchala had been as lavishly decorated as this one, he recalled, staring at the swaying garlands of marigolds. And when, eventually, the Princess of Panchala had arrived in splendour, she had looked ravishing. Princess Draupadi had voiced a single condition for her swayamwara—she would only wed the best archer, the prince who could shoot his arrow on target to pierce the eye of a rotating wooden fish. He could aim only by looking at its reflection in a bowl of water, not directly at it. Each suitor would have one single chance to do this. Evidently, only the best archer could succeed, and Karna had felt a smug confidence at the time. This meant it would be either him or Arjuna. To win the hand of the beautiful princess would mean winning great prestige as well, Karna thought with a smile, as he had slowly walked up to the centre of the hall. He held the bow, lifted it easily and was about to string it when a sharp voice commanded him to stop. He turned. It was Princess Draupadi speaking to him, loudly and haughtily. ‘Wait!’ she ordered. ‘You may be a king now, O King of Anga, but you are not of royal birth. I am a king’s daughter and will not wed a base-born man. As Draupadi, the yajnaseni, the one born out of fire, I insist on being declared a veeryashulka, a bride to be won by the worthiest and the very best. I will not allow a low-born sutaputra to participate in the challenge. Please do not proceed.’

The entire assembly was shocked into silence. Stunned at her cruel words, Karna had flung the bow down and turned away with the words, ‘O sun! Be my witness that I cast aside the bow, not because I am unable to hit the mark, but because the princess mocks me.’