Karna's Wife (7 page)

Standing at her balcony, Uruvi thought wistfully how this was the last night she would be spending in Pukeya, in the house where her first wakeful memories were centred. She stared at the darkening sky through the balustrade fringed with leaves, seeing moments of her childhood in a quick flashback. With a start she realized she had rarely cried in this house. The moments she recalled were full of innocent laughter and bliss—except those heart-wrenching times when her father had left for battle, which were often enough to snuff out her joy. Uruvi was suddenly swamped with a surge of sadness at the thought of parting from her home and her parents; yet, she was bursting with excitement at the thought of a new life with Karna, whom she had longed for so long.

At this moment, though, she sheepishly confessed to herself, she was nervous about coming face to face with the man she had seen vividly in her dreams almost every day. In her dreams he never spoke to her; now he would. Would he smile, would he laugh, would he touch her as she had wildly imagined? Or would he be cold and indifferent? And it was that look of uncertainty that Karna caught as he entered the bridal room. His new bride gazed at him, her mouth dry, overcome with a stifling shyness. He stood quietly, tall and distant.

They were two strangers meeting for the first time, yet they were bound together by marriage. She watched him approach her, his lips in a straight, almost stern line, his eyes dark and deep. She could not wrench her gaze off him, just as she hadn’t been able to do during the swayamwara. She thirstily drank in the sight of him, parched with years of pining. It was his eyes—those twin spheres of molten gold that held a strange magnetism. From what she had seen of him, it was his eyes that flashed intermittently with either rage or resentment, or softened suddenly with unimaginable gentleness. But within them lay an unfathomable sadness that seemed to suffuse his being.

She felt him standing close to her, but not obtrusively so. It felt as if she had wished for this moment since eternity; she looked up at him through her veil, wishing that the moment would last forever, and her nervousness inexplicably vanished. But nothing prepared her for his blunt question.

‘Why did you marry me?’ he asked quietly, without preamble.

Famous first words, she thought wryly, and definitely not the most romantic either. ‘Is this a game?’ he rasped, a frown marring his handsome features. ‘A new ploy? Or were you forced into this marriage?’

She wondered why he was so disturbed. She looked at him, her eyes gazing straight into his, undaunted and calm. ‘I married you because I have loved you since the day I first saw you,’ she replied with equanimity.

She had the small, irrational pleasure of seeing him look flabbergasted. ‘But we have never met!’ he breathed, barely managing to suppress his surprise.

‘I fell in love with you even before I met you!’ she confessed quietly.

‘You can’t have been in love with a dream!’ he looked bewildered.

‘At that day of the archery contest at Hastinapur, I decided I would marry no one else but you,’ she said steadily, her eyes as unwavering as her voice. ‘You seriously believe I was forced into marrying you after what happened at the swayamwara?’ she countered with a dry laugh. ‘On the contrary! What you witnessed at the marriage hall was just a small hint of what happened at home while convincing my parents. Frankly, they weren’t too pleased with my choice either and certainly did not wish me to marry you,’ she admitted candidly.

‘
That
doesn’t come as a surprise!’ said Karna without resentment. ‘I’m sure many people must have enlightened you by now about the fact that I am not exactly eligible!’

‘I grew up loving you. I had decided to marry you a long time ago even though I know that I didn’t even exist for you till now. And…’

‘And yet you went ahead to marry me against all odds,’ he quietly interrupted, ‘…against all that antagonism, opposition and disgrace.’

As he spelled out the words, the gravity of her deed hit him hard. It had struck him the moment she had started walking towards him, with the garland in her hands, at the swayamwara hall. He had wanted to get up and stop her then, had wanted to dissuade her, wanted to push her away, to make her flee from the terrible realities of his life. But he had been utterly mesmerized by the beauty of the moment, just as he was now.

Looking at the exquisitely lovely girl standing so close to him, he found himself helpless before her fragile beauty, a beauty infused with a fierce determination. He felt suddenly the attraction and magnetism of this girl. There was a tumultuous vitality in her, a forceful power. She was the kind of girl, he thought, a man could easily lose his head over. For the first time, he looked closely at the girl whom his rival, Arjuna, was supposed to marry. She was a picture of wistful charm. His inscrutable glance hovered hesitantly for a long moment over her soft lips, moved to her small, pointed chin, her tiny upturned nose, which accentuated her air of arrogance, to wander slowly over her petite figure draped demurely in bridal finery that could not sheath the seductive voluptuousness that lay beneath. His eyes travelled back up to her questioning, almost defiant face and their eyes locked in a lingering gaze.

But his doubt distracted him. He could not fathom why this princess had stooped to marry a social outcast like him. He persisted. ‘Princess, you have decided to follow the hard path. I cannot promise you the life a royal princess deserves,’ he began slowly. ‘I am a wanderer myself, stuck in an eternal search. I am a vagabond who doesn’t know where I am going. My past beckons my present, but I can see only a blurred future. All my life, I have been slighted as a person of low birth—and the stigma will rub off on you as well. Yet, I am not ashamed of who I am. I am proud to be Radheya, the sutaputra, the son of Adhiratha and Radha. As soon as my father found me, he held me close and took me home. From her selfless affection for me, my mother’s breasts were filled with milk that very day. She has looked after me, loved me and tutored me. And I, too, will always regard them—Radha and Adhiratha—as my parents. I have been brought up in the suta tradition and have got married to a suta bride. I am a married man, happy with my wife Vrushali, the gentlest person ever. But you, you are a kshatriya princess. How will you be able to live with a sutaputra?’

‘A sutaputra who was born to show valour and to achieve glory,’ Uruvi corrected him gently, unfazed by his self-castigation. ‘For me, that makes you enough of a kshatriya. You have attained fame and glory as a brave, formidable warrior. You are a good man, a generous, kind person. What more could I ask for? Honour is not in a name or status but what you carry in your heart.’

The princess argues well, Karna conceded with a reluctant amusement he did not dare reveal. ‘You are kind, Princess, the world is not so generous,’ he bowed. ‘I have been reminded in more ways than one where I stand in society. I know it, I hate it, but I can’t do anything about it,’ he shrugged as if to brush off the burden of insults heaped upon him. ‘And I don’t want you to suffer the same humiliation because of me. You got a small dose of it today, but there’ll be more to come, a more bitter medicine to swallow each time.’

‘A medicine is supposed to cure,’ she answered, her tone light. ‘And if you have finished with my cross-examination, may I start with mine?’ she looked up at him, a mischievous glint in her pretty eyes.

He tilted his head questioningly.

‘Why did you come for my swayamwara?’ she asked directly, unswerving in her stare. ‘What game were
you
playing?’ she mimicked him.

‘A cat and mouse one—I wanted to see Arjuna’s latest bride,’ he admitted, a wicked gleam in his sunset eyes. ‘But, seriously, I wanted to know who had dared to send me an invitation, knowing full well that I had stopped attending swayamwaras after what happened at Princess Draupadi’s.’ His voice hardened perceptibly. ‘All my life I have endured taunts, insults and humiliation for being a sutaputra, but coming from a woman, a princess at her own swayamwara, was the most damning,’ he said, the heat of suppressed anger burning through his voice. ‘Draupadi proudly declared herself to be a bride to be won by the worthiest and the very best. I was neither, she reminded me. I was a low-born sutaputra who had dared to dream. She openly mocked me, saying that I could not be allowed to win her hand in marriage. I can never forget it—her words, her haughtiness, the people in the hall sniggering…I can never forget that hateful day. She was responsible for my son’s death too,’ he said, rage simmering in his voice. ‘What I lost that day, besides my self-respect and self-worth, was also my son, Sudhama. He was killed in the scuffle after the swayamwara. And that haughty, heartless princess didn’t turn a hair—she went off with her new husband Arjuna, without bothering to look back at the havoc she had wreaked. I will never forgive her nor myself for that,’ he vowed, his eyes burning in fury.

Hearing him utter Draupadi’s name, Uruvi’s initial flash of jealousy was doused by a dawning comprehension—Karna loathed Draupadi. Her blatant rejection and her disparagement of Karna were like a raw nerve, reminding him painfully of the humiliation she had inflicted on him. Unrelenting in his festering hatred, was he the proud man scorned in love or was he the grieving father, inconsolable at his son’s brutal death? Or, reflected Uruvi with a sinking feeling, were both emotions torturing him?

Karna’s face was masked again in a brooding shroud, cocooning his cold, closed self. Uruvi wondered frantically how she could salvage the relaxed moment they had shared. ‘I know what happened at Princess Draupadi’s swayamwara,’ she said evenly. ‘But I invited you because you were the only one I wanted to marry. Had you not turned up, the swayamwara would have been called off and I wouldn’t have married anyone else.’ The finality of her words shocked him. He could not help being moved by her determination and love for him.

Watching the small, slight figure in front of him, Karna felt his rage subside. She was like a fountain of water, reviving him with the water of life and love. He felt a strange emotion, a surge of protective affection for this woman who had fought so desperately to get him. She had him, yes, she did, Karna thought with a sense of fond pride. He felt the first glow of her love and basked in it. He didn’t want to ever see her hurt. He recalled the pain in her eyes when she had been insulted by the angry suitors at her own swayamwara. Anger flamed in his heart but a larger guilt tore him. It was because of him that she had to hear those terrible words. His conscience, always sensitive, was troubled. A pang seized him when he realized that their future would be an uneasy one; he would be responsible for many more bitter blows to her pride. He had experienced this humiliation himself and knew he still would, but from now on he would be dragging her along with him.

It was his turn to relieve the thickening tension between them. ‘I would say I’m glad my curiosity got the better of me,’ he confessed. ‘When I received the wedding invitation from your esteemed father, I was naturally intrigued about why I was being invited to a swayamwara where everyone knew whom the bride was going to marry! I confess I was curious to see the bride. You were that perfect princess whom the perfect prince, Arjuna, was to marry. Instead, the iconic princess chose an interloper—it turned out to be a daring decision, which shocked everyone! And, dear princess, I was surprised too, amazed that you selected me over Arjuna.’

‘Don’t you think you are worth it?’ she murmured, a smile in her whisper.

He dared not touch her. His bride looked so beguilingly beautiful. His eyes raked her body. She was small and slim but straight-backed, deep-bosomed and tiny-waisted, with flaring hips. His eyes caressed her dark hair, her oval face, her trembling lips. He could almost breathe in her fragrance. And then Uruvi saw his beautiful face melting into a small smile for the first time, like the sun coming out of the dark clouds, spreading light everywhere. His smile shone through the darkest pools in his sunset eyes, deep into her soul.

Although an upheaval had occurred in the lives of Uruvi and Karna, the palace of the King of Anga was still quiet. That late morning, when the news of Princess Uruvi’s stormy swayamwara reached the palace, its tranquillity was rudely shattered, giving way to unaccustomed pandemonium.