Karna's Wife (14 page)

‘Because whatever his nature may be, he is loyal. And he is my friend,’ replied Karna calmly. ‘It was Duryodhana who helped me when I was being publicly disparaged at the archery contest, it was Duryodhana who first acknowledged me as a worthy warrior, it was Duryodhana who made me a kshatriya, by merit if not by birth. When I was ridiculed by Draupadi at her swayamwara, it was Duryodhana who stood by me, it was Duryodhana who challenged King Drupad and Dhrishtadyumna and questioned their intentions at the same swayamwara. It is Duryodhana who sides with me whenever Dronacharya and Bhishma Pitamaha are dismissive about me, it is Duryodhana who has given me the respect that I am worthy of. No one else has done that. Rejected by all, I have found honour among the Kauravas. For all this and more, I shall be eternally grateful to Duryodhana.’

‘But he does all that because he needs you,’ she argued, a desperate plea in her voice. ‘He needs you to fight his final battle with the Pandavas. Without you, he can never win against them. Without you, the Kauravas are nothing. Assured of your unwavering loyalty, Duryodhana can afford to be arrogant and forceful. He can claim all rights to the inheritance, even though the elders believe at least half of it, if not all, belongs to the Pandavas. That is why Dronacharya and Bhishma Pitamaha resent you—because it is through you that Duryodhana is so flagrantly powerful. Duryodhana has been spurred by his father’s unfulfilled aspirations, a father who is blinded by the ambition to be king. And on your part, Karna, you are indebted to him for the social sanction and the kingdom he has bestowed on you. But you are bound to a person who is not worthy of either your love or your friendship. Duryodhana cannot be anyone’s friend. He is simply using you against his cousins. The Duryodhanas of the world will seek you out because they need you to serve their interest. You are his best ace against them—can’t you see through him?’

‘I will always stand by him, whoever and whatever I am against,’ Karna’s words were deceptively soft, his face a mask of cold inscrutability. ‘Duryodhana gave me the kingdom without my asking for it and I shall give him my undying friendship in return. I promised him I shall serve him till my last breath and I am committed to him for life. Only Duryodhana offered me an opportunity to prove myself—to be a king, a warrior and an archer—and I took it.’

‘And sold your soul in the bargain!’ she countered angrily. ‘He is violating your conscience! You are wasting your loyalty on a person who has no integrity, no dharma…’ Uruvi implored, realizing her words were being drowned by his unflinching loyalty.

‘He could be; but for me he is simply a friend, a saviour, who stood by me in my worst hour. Uruvi, he may be evil but I see his goodness too.’

‘But that doesn’t justify his vices. O Karna, he is dragging you to a certain no man’s land! Where is all this hate and intrigue and revenge going to lead?’

‘To conflict—that is inevitable, isn’t it? Where is power ever without politics and conflict?’

‘But you have never been greedy for power—you don’t want it!’ she argued, twin angry spots on her cheeks. ‘Power can never corrupt you for you have never hankered for it. And the tussle is not for power—it’s one-upmanship between the cousins. They seem to be fighting for the throne, which Duryodhana does not believe in sharing. But with you it’s never been this lust for the throne or the crown…’

‘All I ever wanted was respect, Uruvi. And Duryodhana has given me that,’ Karna said quietly. ‘I aspired for nothing else. I wanted to be recognised for my merits. Not for what I was born as. Not for my lineage—or rather, lack of it.’

There was an unaccustomed harshness in his voice, his rigidity contrasting starkly with the helplessness she knew he was actually feeling. ‘Yes, Duryodhana has given me the respect and honour that I strived so hard for, and when I look at him, I feel blessed. He has everything yet he has nothing. I have a family who loves me unconditionally. I am Radheya, proud to be the son of Radha, but is Duryodhana proud to be Queen Gandhari’s son? He has a mother, but has never known the warmth and selflessness of maternal love. He has a father, but has King Dhritrashtra carried out his responsibilities towards him? Instead of guiding his son, he is lost in his own unfulfilled ambition and unrequited hopes, groping in vain for kingship. Duryodhana seems to be born in hate, for hate. Did Queen Gandhari ever forgive King Dhritrashtra for forcing her to marry him? That resentment percolated to her son as well. She was so disappointed that Duryodhana was not born before Yudhishthira that she was ready to abort him!’ said Karna scathingly. ‘I was dumped by my natural mother after I was born but here is a mother who was ready to kill her son before his birth. How then, can he
not
be branded with hate and evil? As a baby, was he ever held with love and affection? His father was blind, so he could not see his first newborn, but his mother did not remove her blindfold even to have a glimpse of the son she had so desperately wished for. She rejected him solely because he was not born early enough! Oh, Uruvi, he has been brought up in heartlessness—within the confines of indifference. His mother never really bothered about him; his father saw him only as an heir, not a son to be loved and cared for. He has been brought up on hate—by his uncle, who seeks revenge for the injustice done to him, his father and his sister by the Kuru clan. Shakuni seeks his revenge through his nephew, slowly poisoning his mind and soul to make him the puppet he wants him to be. Duryodhana was doomed before he was even born…he was born a child of hatred and lives to hate…’

Uruvi listened to him in silence. She absorbed his words almost unwillingly, trying to understand what he was saying. He was like a brave soldier battling against the whole world, which was in conspiracy against him, yet he was fighting hard for his friend. His heart was full of sorrow for his condemned friend, understanding him because his own life had been a long struggle against desperate odds. People had treated him shabbily, fate had consistently played foul with him, and yet by sheer grit and genius he had overcome all with grace and humility. He now stood by a man who had defended him. Allegiance prevailed; loyalty won.

‘And yet you prefer to live in hate? And thrive in revenge? Is that the price you are paying for the good he seems to have done for you? Can you ever be happy, Karna?’ The anger had evaporated from her argument her words gnawed by sadness.

‘I
am
happy,’ he said quickly. ‘I am lucky I have you. I am proud I am Radheya. I am blessed that I am loved. And if I can give a little of that consideration for Duryodhana who has never got love, I think I am doing him a little good…’ he sighed deeply. ‘My dharma is to be with my friend. I owe it to him. My passion is archery. And it is your love, the love of my parents, my children, Vrushali and Shona that fills my heart. These will guide my life and lead me to glory. I don’t aspire for anything else, Uruvi. Except Arjuna’s defeat—by me,’ he finished softly.

If Karna disliked Arjuna, it was because of the resentment and rivalry between them. But the utter loathing in Karna’s heart was reserved only for one man—Shakuni—the person both Uruvi and Karna abhorred. Uruvi wondered if anyone did approve of the man except for his hundred Kuru nephews. The only one of the old king’s sons who hated Shakuni was Yuyutsu, who was King Dhritrashtra’s son from a low-caste handmaid, and was, therefore, treated as a pariah, just as Karna was. It seems even Shakuni’s blindfolded sister Queen Gandhari was not too fond of her brother and was mistrustful of his continuous presence at Hastinapur. With her silken blindfold around her eyes, the sister tried to steer herself far, far away from the tussle of power, politics and intrigue—the three games her brother loved playing.

Shakun presence at Hastinapur was a mystery that few could fathom and even Bhishma Pitamaha was unable to get rid of him. As the brother of the queen, he had no reason whatsoever to stay in the kingdom of his sister’s husband. But he had an impelling motive. If rumours were to be believed, it seems the root of the problem had been Bhishma Pitamaha himself. Shakuni’s burning resentment against Bhishma Pitamaha was that but for him, his sister could have wed Prince Pandu, the heir apparent, instead of the blind Prince Dhritrashtra. He could not forgive the treachery behind this marriage. Neither could he forget that by marrying off his sister to a blind king, Gandhari and her children had been forever deprived of the kingdom that was rightfully Dhritrashtra’s. It had been Prince Pandu he had wanted as his sister’s husband, not Prince Dhritrashtra who had lost out on his claim to the throne because of his blindness. Shakuni could never forgive the ecclesiastical old man or the entire Kuru dynasty for having swindled his sister Gandhari and his father King Subala into what he believed was a farcical marriage. They had been made to think that Gandhari would be marrying the King of Hastinapura—and that was King Pandu. But Bhishma Pitamaha had other plans which, though well orchestrated, did not fall in place the way he had intended. The terrible fall-out of this miscalculation was to prove the biggest blunder, shattering the peace of the Kuru clan forever.

Bhishma Pitamaha’s intentions had been noble. Realising that Prince Dhritrashtra had lost out on his throne because of his blindness, the grand uncle decided to compensate by marrying off the older prince early, hoping that the first child would be the heir to the Kuru crown. That was why he had hurried King Subala of Gandhar and forced him to to give his daughter, the beautiful Gandhari, in marriage to Prince Dhritrashtra. Their first-born child would be the King of Hastinapur and justice would be reinstated for the blind prince. But these grand designs did not turn out as planned.

It seems that even Queen Satyavati was unhappy that Bhishma Pitamaha had enthroned King Pandu instead of the older son—Dhritrashtra. Unlike the last time decades ago, when as the new stepmother of young Bhishma (or Prince Devvrata as he was known then), the ambitious Queen Satyavati had forced him into his terrible vow of celibacy to protect her and her children, Bhishma remained stubborn and did not yield to her arguments. The explanation given to her was that as Dhritrashtra was blind, he would not be able to look after the affairs of the state—that was the reason why the throne was best suited for Prince Pandu, her grandson and the younger son of King Vichitravirya.

By choosing to get the blind prince married before Pandu was wedded, Bhishma Pitamaha had planned to enthrone Dhritrashtra’s son as the heir to the throne. But it was not to be—Yudhishthira was born before Duryodhana and that mantle fell on him. A livid Shakuni swore vengeance when King Pandu was crowned king. His sister showed her protest more subtly. She accepted her fate with a smile on her face and a silk cloth around her eyes, so that she would experience the world in darkness, just as her blind husband did. The revengeful brother, watching his sister’s self-flagellating blindness, promised himself he would sink the Kuru kingdom into an even deeper darkness than what his sister had plunged herself into.

Always clad in dark silks, Shakuni sported a white beard, which was a rather unexpected contrast on his round, jolly face. This evil genius always wore a smile, appearing deceptively cheerful with his bright grin and a perpetual glint in his eyes. Many mistook it for a merry sense of humour. He had otherwise small, undistinguished features and his eyes were tiny. His fleshy face matched his corpulent body, the belly protruding oddly to give him an almost comical look. But that, again, was as deceptive as the man himself.

Whenever he met Uruvi, the elderly uncle never failed to greet her with a warm smile and an exaggerated bow. ‘Ah, the Princess of Pukeya! Good day to you, Princess,’ he would say sarcastically, emphasizing her royal designation, which never failed to make her uneasily aware that she was no longer a princess but a sutaputra’s wife.

One day, she decided to take him on. ‘Good day to you, sir,’ she returned with a sunny smile. ‘I appreciate the fact that you do not forget to call me “Princess”—how can I ever forget whose daughter I am? Just like you are the Prince of Gandhar, staying in Hastinapur, I am the Princess of Pukeya living in Hastinapur as well!’

Uruvi saw his eyes going frosty, but the smile did not slip from his face. The arrogance behind his jovial facade never let anyone forget that he was the Prince of Gandhar, the son of King Subala and the only surviving brother of Queen Gandhari, living for one nefarious goal—the fall of the Kuru dynasty. He loved the game of dice, and never could be seen without his twin dices, which he constantly rubbed in his hands. There was a gory story that the dices he caressed so lovingly were made from his father’s thigh bones.

Uruvi shuddered at the thought of it, and recoiled at the gorier tale she had heard of this evil prince. On the advice of astrologers, the lovely Gandhari was married to a goat before she married the prince of Hastinapur, as her astrological charts declared she would be a widow and only her second husband would survive. When her husband, King Dhritrashtra, discovered this, he flew into a rage and imprisoned his father-in-law and brothers-in-law, banishing them to dank dungeons, where they were given only a fistful of rice to share every day. Knowing that they would starve to death, the old King Subala gave only his youngest son the meagre meal so that he would survive and avenge their deaths. That youngest son was Shakuni, who was released only when Gandhari pleaded with her husband. And that was why he had stayed on to plot his revenge and hasten the end of the Kuru clan. With the dice in his hands, he soon made King Dhritrashtra, Duryodhana and Dushasana his unwitting pawns in his game of revenge and retribution. His sister, blindfolding herself from this awful truth, remained oblivious of his motives.