Karna's Wife (41 page)

Kritvarma had been Abhimanyu’s teacher, but could not forgive his pupil’s one transgression. His son, Matrikavat, had been killed by Abhimanyu and the unforgiving father had finally exacted his revenge by joining in the gory killing of the Pandava heir.

Uruvi was filled with dismay. When she met Karna at the end of the day, she asked him sadly, ‘How could you, as a decent human being, a noble warrior yourself, kill Abhimanyu in that merciless way?’ Her heart cried out more in revulsion than in pain. ‘He was but a child, a little older than our Vrishakethu. All you great warriors pounced on him like wild animals! I knew war was a killer, but does it turn men into such hideous fiends?’

Shame clouding his eyes, Karna bent his handsome head abjectly. ‘I have no justifications, Uruvi. You are my conscience, but all I can say is that I followed my commander-in-chief’s instructions,’ he said impassively. ‘That was my duty—I could not disobey him. As guided by him, I aimed at the reins of Abhimanyu’s horses and cut them off, forcing the lad to the ground. After that, it was mayhem. He was attacked from behind, his bow was broken, and his horses and charioteer killed. He stood on the ground alone, with just a sword and a shield in hand. Guru Dronacharya broke his sword, and I his shield,’ Karna continued, closing his eyes as if to blank out the horrific image. ‘Arjuna’s son then took up a chariot’s wheel as his only weapon and whirled it like a discus, trying to ward off our arrows. Finally, exhausted and spent, he was overpowered by Dushasana, who came up from behind and closed on him in combat. Both fell down and Abhimanyu struggled to get up, but before he could stand up, Dushasana crushed his head with a blow from his mace.’

Karna paused, his voice thick with emotion. He could not go on for the sight still haunted him. He forced himself to continue. ‘And then Dushasana and the others danced around his lifeless body, shouting in glee. I couldn’t bear it any more and I turned away but it was Yuyutsu, the Kaurava prince, who eventually shouted at them to stop that horrible victory dance. Uruvi, I stand guilty again. Oh, God help me, how many more sins am I going to be accountable for? And like I said before, Arjuna deserves his revenge and I deserve the death that will fall on me.’

Uruvi gazed at her husband. His face was ghostly in its pallor, his eyes bleak. She asked herself what torment he must be going through. His hopes had been destroyed and despair had broken his spirit.

Karna did not look at her. His vacant eyes rested on the distant battlefield in the still of the moonless night. He was a crushed man, a still figure in his silent, heartbreaking anguish. He made no protest and showed no resentment. He seemed to accept life’s stinging blow as the ordinary course of things. Life had extracted everything from him, shred him limb from limb and then hurled him cruelly on a bloodsoaked battlefield. Uruvi recalled his high spirits, his vitality, his wry humour, his sardonic, lopsided smile and his confidence in his future, and she wept silently for him for she knew all her love was no balm for him.

In revenge for the vicious killing of his beloved son, Arjuna proclaimed that he would kill Jayadrath, the Sindhu king and Duryodhana’s brother-in-law, by sunset that day. His announcement sent chills of apprehension through the Kaurava army. It was an open challenge; Arjuna twanged his Gandiva bow and Krishna blew his Panchjanya conch. The fourteenth day was the bloodiest day of the Kurukshetra war with Arjuna, impassioned with anger in his grief, single-handedly killing lakhs of warriors who tried to protect Jayadrath.

And true to his word, Arjuna’s oath was fulfilled. The entire Kaurava army, with its great warriors, converged around the Sindhu king to protect him all through the day, and when the sun set, cheered in triumph that Arjuna had not been able to keep his vow. But the sight of the sun setting against the reddened sky was a mere illusion cast by Lord Krishna, immediately catching the Sindhu king and his protective shield of soldiers off guard. Using the Pashupata astra of Lord Shiva, Arjuna shot a shaft from his Gandiva bow straight and true, striking the Sindhu king’s head, which rolled down to the ground, severed completely from his body. Jayadrath, the man responsible for his son’s death, lay dead on the battlefield before the sun had set. Arjuna’s oath had been redeemed, forcing Uruvi to recall another terrible vow sworn by Arjuna—that he would slay Karna on the battlefield of Kurukshetra. Each day was like a sword waiting to fall, stretching its hours towards the deadly end.

That same evening of the fourteenth day, another hero plunged to his death. Ghatotkacha, the son of Bhima and his wife Hidimba, was a rakshasa, a demon, but a brave one and a master of illusory weapons. He could even grow into an awesome size by his own will. Using his sheer height, he had destroyed entire divisions of the enemy, duelling fiercely with veterans like Ashwatthama and Karna and even defeating warriors like Duryodhana. He wreaked such terrible havoc that Duryodhana finally pleaded with Karna to use the Shakti missile which Karna had reserved to use on Arjuna during the final, fatal confrontation between him and the Pandava prince. It was that divine weapon gifted to him by Lord Indra in exchange for the kavach and kundals. Karna took up his position and, in one mighty throw, hurled the mighty missile at Ghatotkacha. The young demon fell at once with a resounding crash on an entire division of the enemy, killing more than four lakh warriors.

The Shakti astra was meant for Arjuna, but was destined to kill the unfortunate Ghatotkacha instead. Krishna had cleverly used the demon son of Bhima as a sacrifice to save the life of Arjuna, once again resorting to a ruse. Uruvi counted each rule flagrantly broken by the so-called righteous side; her anger seethed from day to day as the restraints of dharma were discarded in many vile deceptions.

The killing of Guru Dronacharya was the ultimate breach of trust, reeking of treachery. On the eve of the fateful fifteenth day of the war, Guru Dronacharya, smarting under Duryodhana’s allegation that he was a traitor and biased towards the Pandavas, decided to use the deadly Brahmadanda weapon, which was more powerful than the mighty Brahmastra—but the guru had not imparted the knowledge of how to use it to either his favourite pupil, Arjuna, or his beloved son, Ashwatthama. This knowledge made Dronacharya invincible that day.

There was no one who could defeat the guru and the only hope was taking advantage of his sole weakness—his son, Ashwatthama. Krishna knew that once he heard that his beloved son was dead, Dronacharya would voluntarily desist from battle, throw down his weapons and give up his life. That would be the moment of the great kill.

But for this deed, someone would have to mouth the terrible lie that Ashwatthama had been killed. Krishna told Bhima to kill an elephant named Ashwatthama, and then announce that he had killed him, using only the animal’s name, so that Dronacharya would believe that his son was dead. Yudhishthira was told to say his first lie ever by seconding Bhima’s assertion. So Bhima slaughtered the elephant and went up to Dronacharya, saying with glee, ‘I have killed Ashwatthama!’ Shocked with disbelief, the guru turned trustingly to the most truthful man of all, Yudhishthira. It was then that the Pandava king admitted the half-truth. ‘Yes,’ he declared. ‘Ashwatthama (“the elephant,” he said in an undertone) is dead!’

Stricken with sorrow and believing his son was dead only because the news was uttered by the honest Yudhishthira, the guru quietly gave up his weapons, surrendering his will to fight and to live. In a grief-stricken trance, he sat down to meditate. Seizing the moment when the guru was defenceless, Dhrishtadyumna, the prince born out of fire for the sole purpose of killing Dronacharya, climbed onto the guru’s unmoving chariot and unsheathing his sword, beheaded him in one fell stroke. And so it was that yet another rule of war was flouted.

Karna bowed to the guru’s lifeless body, and after a long pause, commented unemotionally, ‘We get what we deserve. The flames of the fire once started are going to burn you some day. We shall all die a death we deserve. We shall die as we lived—in deceit and duplicity. I know that Guru Dronacharya was killed treacherously, but this was the same noble warrior who had ordered Abhimanyu to be attacked from behind and killed when he was vulnerable. All our deeds have come full circle; it is the order of things that we have perpetuated. So be it. Death would be a mercy. It would be everlasting peace!’

It was as if Karna was waiting for his turn now.

The night of the sixteenth day of the war was unusually still and starless. After the passing away of Dronacharya, the Kaurava army seemed splintered but with Karna as their new commander-in-chief, hope surged afresh. Uruvi was filled with a new dread; fresh and strong, it stoked her worst fears. Duryodhana wanted Karna to kill Arjuna on this day. But would Karna return to her alive? The thought tortured her as she tended to the wounds of the injured whose number had swelled dramatically in the last few days. Even medications were in short supply. Cries of pain heralded death. Would Karna come back to her in the same condition as the soldiers dying in her camp? This morbid thought would not let go of her, churning in her mind all through the weary night.

She finished wrapping the compress on the burning forehead of yet another young injured soldier. In a few hours, the dawn would break to begin another day. She got up abruptly, with one single thought—she had to meet Karna. Would this be their last night together? The thought plagued her, driving her into a silent frenzy.

Karna was amazingly calm when Uruvi came to him. Like her, he seemed to know what peril the day held for him but unlike her, he was stoical.

‘Are you not tired?’ he asked gently, noticing her dull eyes, red with strain on her wan face. ‘You must have had a long day…’

‘I wanted to be with you.’

He sat close to her, his arm going round her waist. She rested her head on his shoulder. She slipped her hand through his and held them tight. She felt, with immense sadness, how there could be so much love and peace in just holding hands. She did not want to let go of his warm hands; she didn’t want to let him go away from her, ever. He was silent, so was she. They did not want to talk any more. She closed her eyes, wanting to savour this short moment of bliss, wishing it could last forever.

After a long time, she felt Karna disengage himself from her. He had got up, standing tall and handsome as ever. Was this their final farewell? She lowered her eyes quickly, feeling tears threatening, her grief silent. He kneeled down by her and kissed her softly, kissing the unshed tears away.

Look after Vrishakethu,’ he whispered, breaking away from her. ‘And my mother and father. And Vrushali. I hope she can forgive me for what I did to her. Tell her on my behalf that I am truly sorry. I had no right to take away her sons, too, away from her.’

She knew that his sons could be killed on this day and that Karna had the same premonition.

She nodded, she could not speak. Her throat was thick with emotions and she said piteously, ‘I will always love you, come what may.’

‘You have always been strong. You are my brave soldier, fighting for and protecting all of us. Look after the family for me. And I will be there for you. Always, my little woman.’

And he abruptly turned away from her, to stride out rapidly towards the dawning day.

It was the beginning of the most unforgettable day of Uruvi’s life. Each moment of that cataclysmic day was recounted to her by the loyal Ashwatthama—who was by Karna’s side on the battlefield. Till his very end.

Ashwatthama told her of how it began, as Duryodhana pleaded with King Salya with folded hands. He said, ‘Karna is going to kill Arjuna today. And Arjuna’s biggest advantage is that he has a marvellous charioteer like Krishna. The only person who can offset that advantage is you, King Salya! You are the only one who is equal to Krishna and you can be an even better charioteer. Karna is sure to kill Arjuna, but that will be possible only if you would consent to be his charioteer.’

But King Salya flew into a temper. ‘How dare you suggest that I, a king and a kshatriya, be a charioteer for a sutaputra? I am a maha-rathi, a great king. You are asking me to serve a low-born man?’ Duryodhana pleaded again ‘My lord, I cannot dare to demean you! You are far too superior to all of us. My only request is that you guide Karna’s chariot, so that he can kill Arjuna. Even Lord Brahma once took up the reins of Lord Shiva’s chariot in a battle.’

King Salya was pleased with Duryodhana’s humility, and finally, gave in.

Karna knew that King Salya actually hated him and also knew about the promise King Salya had given Yudhishthira, his nephew, that he would run Karna down relentlessly till the very end. But despite knowing King Salya’s intentions, Karna thanked the king respectfully. King Salya prepared a chariot for Karna and brought it before him. Karna, following the tradition, went around the chariot three times to perform the ritual of pradakshina. Karna then looked towards the sun and bowed deeply.

‘He was saluting his father,’ Uruvi wanted to tell Ashwatthama, her heart breaking.