Karna's Wife (9 page)

Days flew by fast, but Uruvi got to know her husband very gradually. Karna was attentive and devoted, just as he was with each family member. But Uruvi sensed a certain detachment in his devotion.

‘I find something missing…he is with his family, yet apart. Although surrounded by people who love him, Karna is so alone, never satisfied. It seems that he is always searching, always wondering who his natural parents are…,’ she told herself.

She noticed that no day would start without Karna paying obeisance to the early morning sun and then touching his parents’ feet with quiet reverence, followed by giving alms to one and all, whoever visited him at the palace. Despite his outward calm, there seemed to be a constant turmoil in him, as if he were in quest of his true self. ‘And neither I nor anyone else can help him out,’ Uruvi admitted defeatedly to herself. His life had been one long bitter struggle which he did not allow himself to forget. It was distressing to watch him steeped in his angst, yet arrogant in his conviction about his innate worth. He valued his merit but it was not enough for him until he was recognised and consecrated by society.

As the King of Anga, the first duty Karna had taken upon himself was an oath. He swore that anyone who approached him with a request at midday, when he worshipped the sun, would not go away with his request unfulfilled. That was the reason why he would never allow anyone to leave empty-handed. Uruvi wondered, is that why he gave away alms so generously every noon? Was that unquenchable thirst for social recognition turning him into the most magnanimous of gift-givers? Was his philanthropy kindled by his need for self-glorification? Or was it an identification with the sun god and the inherent generosity of Surya? Or, more aptly, was it a driving need to imprint an unforgettable impression on society?

He was the caring older brother to Shona, who clearly hero-worshipped him, the formality in their relationship tempered by a certain indulgence on Karna’s side. ‘He is still a child,’ he used to gently defend his younger sibling whenever Radha grumbled about him. ‘He is more like a son to you,’ she would retort, and both mother and son would laugh together.

Uruvi was witness to Karna’s sporadic flashes of dry humour, especially among people who could understand his witty remarks. Karna was amusing and spirited if he allowed himself to relax—he had a fabulous memory for a funny story and was whimsical, sometimes indulging in pure fun.

If Karna could make Uruvi laugh—and he did—she knew he could do the same with Vrushali too. Each time Karna glanced at Vrushali, Uruvi, despite herself, felt a red-hot jealousy and she hated herself for it. Watching them, she felt her eyes burning in their sockets, like burning coal. Gripped by envy, she could not speak as she watched them talk to each other softly one afternoon. He was the person she loved most wildly in the world, yet she hated him now as he listened to what his older wife had to say. As if sensing her eyes on them, they turned to look at her.

Abashed, she stepped out of the room, ashamed of her own angry feelings. Anger was not a novel experience for her, but this flaming, searing jealousy was. She painfully reminded herself she was the interloper, not Vrushali. To her jealous eyes, they seemed much too comfortable with each other. Ururvi had not known a more devoted couple, but she could see that they had no dreams, no goal-driven desires. They were happy with each other, with their sons and the family and did not crave for the wealth and status they did not have. But with her, the equation took a turbulent swing because Karna never let her forget that she was a kshatriya princess, part of the elite.

Off and on, Karna’s moods swung between being volatile or merely dutiful, but nothing he did ever upset Vrushali’s amazing placidity. Vrushali could calm him with just a look or a word. They never disagreed, which seemed to be in keeping with an unspoken pact. Once Uruvi had asked her husband if he ever quarrelled with Vrushali. ‘No,’ he shrugged. ‘We do not seem to have anything to squabble about. Vrushali has the temper of an angel.’

‘Possibly,’ Uruvi retorted, bristling a little. ‘But you don’t. You are at times arrogant, aggressive and moody.’

‘Am I? You are the first person to say so. If I am all that and worse, it means that she suffers me…as you do.’

‘I had quite made up my mind never to fall in love with an insensitive boor,’ she dimpled.

‘Are you sorry you did?’ he asked, his eyes twinkling.

‘I was a perfect fool that I did. That bit of luck, or chance or fate or whatever poked in and took the matter out of my hands!’ she frowned at him. Her dark eyes had that look again, somewhat teasing, sometimes tender, that made his heart lurch. Her lips were slightly parted in a sigh.

‘You are irresistible!’ he breathed softly, and kissed her parted lips.

It was with his sons—Vrasasena, Shatrunjaya, Dvipata, Sushena, Satyasena, Chitrasena and Susharma—that Karna shrugged off his armour of polite reserve. Uruvi often watched them scrambling down the steep path in front of the palace in the mornings, racing their way to the grove of trees on the banks of the stream flowing by. As they splashed in the warm, shallow water, Karna was in his most elated spirits. She observed them with a small smile, the girl in her surfacing momentarily, longing to jump in and join them as well. She saw Karna laughing, shouting and singing boisterously. He might have been thirteen—as old as Susharma—and at no other time had Uruvi seen him so happy and vulnerable. There was such an appealing breeziness in him that Uruvi was amazed. These were such beautiful moments that it was like experiencing heaven.

‘You seem to have enjoyed yourself enormously,’ she said one morning when he returned to the room.

‘I always do. They are my best moments,’ he smiled, and Uruvi felt he had allowed her to enter his secret space. She smiled back at him, her eyes shining.

When she was alone, Uruvi longed to express her wonder about her new relationship with her husband, to pour out her restlessness, but there was no one to confide in. She was surprised to find herself missing her mother acutely. She had always assumed she would miss her father intolerably but, instead, she found herself wishing that she could rush to her mother and vent her emotion of the moment, whether it was anger, frustration or happiness, or just engage in idle talk.

Though she longed for her parents and her opulent palace at Pukeya, Uruvi found herself fascinated and considerably charmed by her husband’s loving family and the frugality that was practised in the household. She took some time getting accustomed to both. Uruvi toned down her lavish ways, self-conscious about being extravagant and ostentatious at times. She loved the hill on which her home stood, the teeming wilder of the forest, the birds with their colourful plumage and the brilliant butterflies fluttering by. She timidly began lending her personal touches wherever she could in the palace, arranging flowers in vases and decorating the rooms with artifacts, while Vrushali looked on tolerantly.

For her, it was beautiful being married and being Karna’s wife. It was fulfilling to run his home, with kindly suggestions from Radha and Vrushali, to potter around, read her texts and wait for her husband to return each evening. Most of all, it was wonderful not to brood about the future.

Except for her jealousy, which sometimes surfaced, Uruvi knew she was extremely happy with her husband. They enjoyed each other’s company, teasing playfully and laughing a lot every now and then. Even when other people were present, their eyes often met, exchanging a little private message. It was quite touching, even to the cynical Shona, and their relationship was blessed by Radha and Adhiratha.

When news of the extraordinary turn of events in Princess Uruvi’s swayamwara reached the royal palace of Hastinapur, some rejoiced, but most were dismayed that Princess Uruvi was Karna’s wife and not Arjuna’s bride. Vidura was saddened. He immediately went to King Dhritrashtra to give him the news. ‘O King, the daughter of King Vahusha has become the wife of Karna, and not our daughter-in-law as we had all wanted. Our family has lost a good ally.’

‘No, no, Vahusha will always be our ally; he is our close friend. By becoming Karna’s father-in-law, he is not lost to us. Karna is close to Duryodhana, which means that Vahusha will also have to side with Duryodhana and not Arjuna. You bring me great news, Vidura. Go and welcome Uruvi. She is our daughter-in-law all the same.’

Reacting to the turn of events more happily than his uncle Vidura, was Duryodhana, for only bad news had come his way since the disaster of Draupadi’s swayamwara. The Pandavas had risen from the ashes, and had not been burnt alive in the lac palace after all. To aggravate matters, the marriage alliance of Arjuna with Draupadi had strengthened the ties of King Drupad and the Pandavas. And worst of all, his father had not just welcomed the wandering Pandavas back with their common bride but had also handed over half the kingdom to them. They had prospered, naming their golden city Indraprastha, and their popularity had amplified. They had got mightier by the day through goodwill and marriage alliances, thought the Kaurava scion vengefully.

But for Uruvi’s unexpected decision, Vahusha’s kingdom of Pukeya would have been friendly territory for the Pandavas. But Uruvi had completely turned the tide in favour of the Kauravas, reflected Duryodhana with immense delight. Uruvi was his new trump-card and he would have to play it carefully; just like he had done with Karna when he had first seen him perform better than Arjuna during the archery contest at Hastinapur years ago.

He had been secretly delighted when he had finally found a match for Arjuna in this golden youth. He considered himself equal to the mighty Bhima and could even beat him at wrestling and a mace fight. But his deepest dread was Arjuna. He had always feared that no one could challenge the Pandava archer. In the foreseeable tussle for the throne of Hastinapur, he wanted a supreme archer on his side, and in Karna, he immediately recognised his strongest chance against the Pandavas. This was the real reason why he had promptly offered Karna the throne of the kingdom of Anga. His selfish generosity had been mistaken for magnanimity. With that move, he had Karna entirely and eternally by his side—but getting Uruvi on his side would be much tougher.

Duryodhana knew Uruvi felt only contempt for him. She had been exceptionally opinionated even as a child, and Duryodhana grinned as he recalled the frequent tiffs he had had with that chit of a girl who dared to play with, and boss over, boys. He recollected one incident in particular, when the little princess had nearly clawed his eyes out when he had pushed Nakul, one of the Pandava twins, down from a high branch one quiet afternoon. She had leapt at him and scratched him mercilessly, leaving him with a bleeding face and murderous scratches on his chest, arms and legs. She was quite a spitfire, he thought, but she had been always loyal to the Pandavas, which is why her choice of Karna over Arjuna had come as an unforeseen jolt to those who knew her. Savouring the unexpectedness of Uruvi’s choice, Duryodhana was struck with another thought—that there was more to that tempestuous princess than her temper. And now, as his best friend’s wife, she would certainly behave more congenially with him, he supposed, with a grim smile.