Karna's Wife (33 page)

‘How noble!’ sneered the younger man. ‘You gave away your most precious, life-saving armour to a god who cannot be called honourable himself! He is the one who molested Ahilya, the wife of his teacher, Rishi Gautam, disguised as her husband. Today, the same deceitful person came to you in the guise of a poor brahmin asking for your life. You are being fooled by people who do not have the best of
your
interests at heart, dear brother. In fact, the very opposite. And when at war, you cannot afford to make such foolish mistakes…’

‘Stop it, Shona!’ remonstrated Vrushali sharply. ‘This is no way to speak to your older brother.’

‘He is not always right, sister,’ he said quietly, bowing his head. ‘Sometimes he needs to be told that he is so very wrong. And that what he is doing will lead to his own downfall. I am simply trying to prevent that fall—but now I know I cannot avert it any more.’

And casting Uruvi a penetrating look, Shona walked away from the room hurriedly, but not before Uruvi saw the glistening tears in his unhappy eyes.

Vrushali looked wretched. ‘Oh, Radheya, why is it that you—who would not hesitate to even give up your life for charity—have been deprived of honour all your life and yet have always kept your vows?’ She looked at her husband in despair. He did not reply.

That night was long, stretching in the shadows of impending doom. Uruvi was restless while watching Karna sleep fitfully, his chest pale in the moonlight. The thirteen-year exile was ending—it was time for the Pandavas to return and ask for their kingdom. A war was going to be fought between the cousins—there was no stopping it—and Lord Indra’s action today was a precursor of the destruction that was to come.

Uruvi heard Karna mumble uneasily in his sleep. He woke up with a start, and seeing her by his bedside, he visibly calmed down. ‘You are still awake?’

‘I was thinking of what happened today…’

He murmured, ‘It was not just generosity which you and Shona accuse me of that made me give away my kavach and kundals,’ he said evenly. ‘Is Lord Indra so insecure that he wanted them in order to protect his son? His son, Uruvi, as you rightly say, cannot be defeated—and that’s because he has Lord Krishna by his side. Whether I give away my kavach or kundals or not makes no difference, for the Pandavas will eventually win. The final truth is that Arjuna, through Lord Krishna, shall triumph. But by getting the Shakti astra, I have some hope for my army.’

‘By making yourself powerless?’

‘But, as I told you earlier, that I shall die is a certainty. You know that too, Uruvi. And that is why I did not hear the fear in your voice today. You have accepted it just as I have.’

Uruvi looked sadly at the discoloured stretch of his starkly bleached skin and a sigh escaped her lips. She found herself praying.

Strange news filtered into the city of Hastinapur one foggy morning. Kichaka, the dreaded brother-in-law of King Virata of Matsya and the commander-in-chief of his army, was found dead, murdered in the dancing hall at King Virata’s palace, his huge body pounded to a pulp. Rumours insisted he had been killed by an enraged Gandharva when he found out that Kichaka had tried to molest his wife. What made the story exciting was not its unusual goriness but the dubious report that the mighty Kichaka was killed by an unknown superhuman.

Duryodhana and Karna refused to believe the story. Kichaka could not have been killed by any ordinary mortal or a superhuman. Only two people could have killed him and those were Duryodhana himself or Bhima. Duryodhana strongly suspected that Bhima was the ‘vengeful Gandharva’ who had killed Kichaka; the woman in question and the cause of the butchery could be Draupadi or one of the other Pandavas disguised as a woman. As his suspicion crystallized into certainty, Duryodhana knew he had tracked down the missing Pandavas, who were in their thirteenth year of exile, the stipulated last year to be spent incognito—the agyatavasa year.

From the start of the thirteenth year, the spies of Duryodhana, under his explicit orders, had scoured towns, cities and forests looking for the Pandavas, searching for all possible hiding places, but no one could find them. But now Duryodhana knew where they were. If he could unveil their hidden identity, he could force them into another period of exile or force them to forfeit their right to the throne. It was the best time to strike.

Uruvi found Karna preparing for battle that same evening. ‘Who is it this time?’ she asked quietly.

‘King Virata of the Matsya kingdom,’ Karna replied mechanically. Knowing that she was waiting for him to expand further, he explained, ‘Our ally, King Susharma of Trigarta, is Virata’s mortal enemy, and with Kichaka dead, this is the best chance to seize the opportunity to attack his kingdom.’

‘That’s just a political pretext. The real reason is to flush out the Pandavas whom you and the Kauravas believe have taken shelter in King Virata’s kingdom, is that not so?’

‘Yes, you’re right. I pray that it was Arjuna who was disguised as the dancing woman Brihanhala at King Virata’s palace.’

‘And that gives you the heaven-sent occasion to battle with Arjuna?’

‘Yes, again. For thirteen years, I have dreamt of this encounter. You have all the questions but you already know the answers. Am I being cross-examined?’

She ignored his sarcasm. ‘I heard about your argument with Ashwatthama—and it’s not very pleasant news. Karna, he is your friend.’

‘But that does not give him the right to insult me…’ Karna frowned darkly. ‘Uruvi, I would have taken harsh words, too, from a friend; after all, Ashwatthama is like a brother to me. But he was nasty to Duryodhana as well.’ He flushed angrily. ‘It all started when Guru Kripacharya mocked me, calling me stubborn and arrogant when I said that at last I had the chance to challenge Arjuna. He said that Arjuna was much superior to me. He was backed by Guru Dronacharya who, as expected, did not miss his chance to jeer at me. I know I spoke too strongly when I retaliated by telling Duryodhana, in front of the guru, that a brahmin’s advice should be taken if a yagna is held and not before a war. At that jibe at his father, Ashwatthama got rather angry with me. I kept silent as I had been curt with his father but Ashwatthama then turned on Duryodhana and lambasted him. He angrily questioned his integrity as a kshatriya king and how he had usurped Indraprastha from the Pandavas through deceit. Brahmins like his father, he argued, fight straight—not through devious games of dice. Duryodhana lost his temper and, had it not been for Bhishma Pitamaha, we would have got into a fight. The old man warned us that in the time of war, it’s best we stay united and show a common front to fight a dangerous enemy like Arjuna. To diffuse the situation, I apologized to the acharyas, our teachers, so I hope it calmed down Ashwatthama too. Does it make you feel less worried now, Uruvi?’

‘Karna, Ashwatthama got angry at Duryodhana for your sake. He too believes that he is not the best friend for you. You oblige Duryodhana all the time. And Ashwatthama said what I have been saying all along—why aren’t you stopping Duryodhana in his destructive one-track path? He is not playing straight—no one wants the war except him. Why can’t he return the kingdom to the Pandavas?’ she pleaded. ‘There’s enough bad blood between them, let there be peace now. You know well enough by now that Duryodhana can dare to think of war with the Pandavas only at your expense. A kshatriya is one who fights only when provoked or when he cannot avoid battle. But here, Duryodhana is itching for trouble. He is deliberately starting a war. It’s not going to be King Susharma versus King Virata, it’s going to be the Kauravas versus the Pandavas. Let King Susharma battle with King Virata if he wants to. Why are you interfering in their feud?’

‘He is our ally, Uruvi. And more importantly, he is Queen Bhanumati’s brother and we owe him our support. We share a common enemy in Arjuna, who once attacked his kingdom during his victory march of north India. When King Susharma attacks King Virata from the south, Duryodhana, Bhishma Pitamaha, Guru Dronacharya, Ashwatthama and I plan to launch a surprise attack from the north to catch King Virata’s army unawares.’

‘So again, it’s Arjuna who is the thorn in your heart?’ she asked in exasperation. ‘Oh, why must you try to prove you can better Arjuna? He is years younger than you, Karna. Behave like an elder and let go of it.’

‘I cannot die till I battle Arjuna. And age has nothing to do with this; a warrior is not defined by his youth or age. A warrior is brave or incompetent, a winner or a loser.’

‘And by challenging Arjuna each time, you are going to prove you are the brave warrior, the mighty winner?’

Like he always did, Karna baffled her with his answer. He replied softly, ‘No, a loser trying to win his dignity.’

The following days saw King Susharma invade Matsya from the south and distract the army of King Virata. Meanwhile, Duryodhana, with his Kaurava army, launched a coup from the northern side, which was vulnerable as it was undefended. King Virata was soon captured and held captive by a victorious King Susharma—but not for long. The arrival of an extraordinary cook called Valala, spoilt the victory march. As Duryodhana had guessed right, the cook was none other than Bhima and the flashily-dressed dancing woman was not Brihanhala but Arjuna. It was Bhima who attacked the enemy ferociously, set King Virata free and captured King Susharma. This defeat enraged Duryodhana. In retaliation, his army then attacked the tender-faced young Prince Uttar Kumar, King Virata’s son, whose charioteer was Brihanhala. Dronacharya and Karna immediately recognized him as Arjuna and proceeded to attack, with Bhishma Pitamaha and Duryodhana at their side. The crimson flag with its embossed golden palm tree—the banner of Bhishma Pitamaha—fluttered slowly, creating panic in the heart of the young prince. But the charioteer defended the prince magnificently, single-handedly tackling Karna, Bhishma Pitamaha, Dronacharya and Duryodhana. The Pandava used his weapons more skilfully than his master, Dronacharya. He stripped his most mortal enemy—Karna—of his bow and arrow and forced him to accept defeat. And finally, Arjuna flashed his hidden ace—he invoked the sammohanastra, the weapon of sleep. With his supernatural silver arrow, the Pandava prince shot a shower of the magical stardust on the Kuru heroes, their soldiers and the horsemen, and they slowly sank into a deep slumber, blissfully unaware of the ensuing battle. Some slipped on the ground, some slumped in their chariots. Arjuna watched the sea of sleeping men and told the awestruck Prince Uttar Kumar to fetch the mantles of the fallen Kuru heroes as mementos of their victory. Or better still, to deck up his sister Uttara’s dolls with them! And then he blew his conch—named Devdatta—to proclaim his glorious victory.

When the Kuru heroes woke up with their Kaurava army, they knew they had been beaten. Bhishma Pitamaha declared, ‘We have been stripped of our mantles, our jewels and our honour. Arjuna could have killed all of us right now, but he is too noble to kill sleeping men even if they are his enemies. We have earned enough shame to last a lifetime. Let us admit defeat and return to Hastinapur.’

A thwarted Duryodhana’s rage knew no bounds. He sent a letter to Yudhishthira, which read that the Pandavas needed to go into another thirteen-year exile as they had been recognized during their agyatavasa year, before the end of the thirteenth year. Yudhishthira’s answer was equally precise. The Pandavas had completed their full thirteen years when Arjuna twanged his Gandiva bow while the Kaurava army slept through the battle in ignorance and ignominy.

Arjuna’s victory was like a stinging slap. Duryodhana fumed, Dushasana raged and King Dhritrashtra saw the crown slipping away again. The Pandavas were to return. And they wanted their kingdom back.

Uruvi saw Karna writhe in mental agony, forced to accept defeat by his mortal rival, Arjuna. Possibly, his shorn-off kavach could have saved him from the weapon of sleep. But Uruvi knew further talk was pointless. Her lips were sealed; her silence would be anguished, her words stifled. Karna had to see the truth for himself as the moment of his inevitable downfall was fast approaching; the end seemed near. She would watch helplessly as their lives slowly crumbled, but she could not stop the disaster any longer, so her protests died down. Just like her dreams had.