Arjuna

by Anuja Chandramouli

  The two of us froze in a tableau of guilt although we were as innocent as a couple of newborn babies. She was anguished that her husband might suspect her chastity and I was mortified at the stupid impetuosity that had made me forget the rules of good conduct and treat my friend’s wife the way I had. My friend took in the scene at a glance and walked towards us. Bending down to the floor, he asked if he should pick up the pearls so that they could be strung together later. I opened my mouth, struggling to find the words to express what my gushing heart was trying to say, and to somehow apologise for my indelicacy; but he pre-empted me and said that those he loved would never do anything to breach the trust which that beautiful emotion engendered, and resumed the task of gathering the pearls with complete nonchalance as though the matter merited no further discussion. Where in the annals of all history would you find a better example of the love and faith one man bore another?’

  ‘It must be admitted that Duryodhana can show winning grace on occasion, to those he holds dear, if not to others, and you do owe him a lot,’ Krishna said tactfully, realizing that attacking Duryodhana was not helping his cause. ‘But let us forget all that for a moment. Have you ever wondered who your real mother is?’ The question was injected into their conversation with great delicacy.

  ‘Wonder about my real mother? Radha is my mother. I will acknowledge none other...’ Karna said a little too quickly. Then, seeing the knowing look in Krishna’s eyes, he rushed on, ‘It is my fondest wish to be able to discard all thoughts of her the way she discarded me with scarcely a thought for my well-being. But I am unable to do so. My dreams are haunted by a beautiful woman whose features are never clear to me. I yearn for the love of this woman, Krishna...

  But why did you ask me that? Do you know who she is? Is she... is she alive?’ There was so much longing in his voice that Krishna wished fervently that fate had been kinder to this tormented soul.

  ‘I do know her identity. As you guessed, she is a Princess. She had you while she was still a maiden. And despite what you may think, it was not easy for her to make the decision to part with you. Her father was a King. And she was no more than a frightened girl at the time, scared about the consequences of her rashness. The noble lady in question did go on to marry and she has five noble sons. But you are wrong in your assumption that she has forgotten all about you. Not a moment goes by when she does not think about the beautiful baby boy, her firstborn, who she was forced to cast adrift. In fact, the golden ear-rings and armour you were born with were given to you by your father on her request, as she wished to be able to identify you in future and do everything possible to make amends, perhaps even find a way to keep you close to her. But that was not to be.’ Krishna paused, debating the merits of telling Karna more.

  ‘My mother is a Princess and the daughter of a King! So the sutaputra is actually a Kshatriya by birth! No wonder Parashurama cursed me the way he did. He said that only a true Kshatriya could bear pain the way I did,’ Karna said with heavy irony. ‘Tell me about my mother, for now I will know no peace until I have learned everything about her. Do not waste another moment – tell me who she is!’

  Seeing Krishna hesitate, Karna looked deep into his eyes and saw the terrible truth staring back at him. ‘You said she had five sons after me; it cannot be! This is one of your devious plots to further the cause of the Pandavas and separate me from Duryodhana. You are trying to make a fool out of me! I bared the secrets of my heart to you, and now they are being used to my detriment! This cannot be true... Kunti is my mother? It is too much to accept, given all that I have suffered!’

  ‘I wish I could make it easier for you, but there is no escaping the truth. Kunti is your mother and the Pandavas are your brothers,’ Krishna said gently.

  Karna was trembling violently. It was as if he had been kicked in the groin. ‘Who is my father?’ he asked in a hushed voice.

  ‘You wake up to him every morning. And he in turn watches over you all day. He is none other than your preferred and favourite deity, Surya.’

  Karna sank to his knees. Burying his head in his hands, he wept and wept and wept. Life had been hard on him and he had responded by becoming harder still. It had not been his way to dwell over his many hurts and cry over the unfairness of it all. He had always been bold and resilient, having the courage to stare adversity in the eye without blinking. Through sheer tenacity he had dragged himself from the bogs to the highest echelons of society. He had staunchly weathered all the criticism and invectives that most who knew him had tossed his way – fiercely proud in the belief that no matter what they did, nothing would crush his indomitable spirit or suppress his tremendous talent. His ‘lowly birth’ had been the root cause of the many evils that had befallen him, and on discovering that he was everything he had been scorned for not being, he wept. He cried for everything he had lost and everything he had gained. He cried for all that was and all that was to be.

  When Karna had regained control over his emotions sufficiently to speak, he said, ‘I thought that cruel fate had done its worst to me but I was wrong! It appears that there is no limit to the terrible things that I am called upon to endure. Surely there was never a man more hated by destiny than me! Surya is my father, Kunti is my mother, and the Pandavas are my brothers... And yet to the world I always was and always will be, a lowborn orphan who knew not his place! I fear that my sanity is deserting me, for suddenly I have this unbearable urge to laugh!’ And laugh he did. The star-crossed hero laughed loud and long and hard. It was a heartbreaking sound.

  With great effort, Karna fought for control. An image of Duryodhana floated across his tortured mind and he grabbed at it with the air of a drowning man reaching for a friendly rope that hung within his reach. Hanging on for dear life, he tried to inure himself to the recent revelations that had with their jarringly sudden impact, come frighteningly close to destroying him as well as his iron will. Slowly and with great effort, he reverted to being the casehardened man his trials and tribulations had made him into. He turned to Krishna and said, ‘You have always known this. Why tell me now? I was right about you. This sudden revelation of an ugly truth is a ploy to separate me from Duryodhana. But that will never happen. I swear it on the life of my real mother!’

  Krishna’s eyes had become inscrutable, sensing the change in the man who stood before him. ‘I am merely offering you the gift of life. Death is approaching you and it will claim you if you do not reconsider your position. Surely you realize that? Why should you throw away your life when you can rule the world? As Kunti’s firstborn, you are the eldest Pandava. If Pandu had been alive, he would have been proud to claim you as his heir apparent. Yudhishthira will gladly hand over the Kingship to you. Bheema will hold the regal umbrella over your head; Arjuna will drive your chariot; Abhimanyu will ever be at your side; and Nakula, Sahadeva, Draupadi’s five sons, and all the Panchala heroes, will follow you wherever you go. The world will be at your feet. Moreover, you will become as dear to Draupadi as the other Pandavas.’

  At the mention of Draupadi, Karna’s expression changed. He was not one to forget insults.’Do not talk to me about that woman. Did you think I would give up my honour for that bit of used goods?’

  Krishna’s eyes flashed. ‘It is disgraceful statements like that which bear testimony to the depths to which you have sunk, Karna, having kept close company with the likes of black-hearted villains like Duryodhana. You are angry with Draupadi for refusing you at the swayamvara. But you had your vengeance did you not? It was your abominable suggestion that she be stripped in front of the entire assembly. The Gods cursed you on that day and your mothers, Kunti and Radha, wept with despair because you had stooped to the basest level of conduct. Never has this world seen a more virtuous woman than Draupadi, and you know it. Yet you were party to that most terrible of deeds which was performed against her, simply because your pride had been injured.’

  Karna flushed with shame and genuine mortification. ‘My behaviour on that day was unforgiveable and
I have regretted it ever since. I have always tried to do the right thing, despite what Bhishma, Drona and the others, say about me. It is true that I was greatly attracted by her. And it was unendurably hard for me to accept that the woman I had lost my heart to would refuse to accept it because of my birth. How do you think I felt when she humiliated me in front of that illustrious gathering and when I found out that it was Arjuna who had won her? Hatred and anger sprang forth from thwarted love and made a beast of me. I am not trying to exonerate my sin, but I need you to understand. My sin against Draupadi weighs heavily on my conscience and makes me sick with self-loathing. If there was any way I could make amends for my atrocious behaviour, I would do it immediately.’

  ‘Then come away with me from this den of sinners. Take up the cause of the Pandavas. Duryodhana will not go to war without you. Think of the countless lives that will be saved if only you make the right decision now. Do not hesitate, come with me!’ urged Krishna.

  ‘You make it sound like I have an easy decision to make. The truth about my birth does little to change things, as you well know. The meandering course my life has taken will not be altered by it. Hitherto, I have been held in contempt for being a sutaputra, but if I were to leave with you, I would be despised as a coward and a traitor as well. Fate will have the last laugh, and that I cannot allow. My legacy to the world must not be tarnished. It must always shine bright, long after I have drawn my last breath. That satisfaction at least I will not allow anyone to take from me.

  It is true that death harkens at me. I have heard the footsteps of the dark Lord, and they grow louder by the day. But I welcome death! Life has been cruel to me and I have little fondness for it and even less desire to prolong it. The only person I care about is Duryodhana, and I will happily die for his cause even if it is a doomed one. My courage on the battlefield shall be unmatched and my triumphs will be lauded in the years to come. I know that a hero’s death awaits me; I am anxious to embrace it and enter the warriors’ heaven. When we meet again, it shall be as enemies, for I am still determined to fight Arjuna to the death, and I know you will have me killed to protect him. But painful as that thought is, I shall endure it, for death holds no fear for me. In fact, I am confident it will treat me more kindly than life has, and give me everything I have longed for but never been fortunate enough to receive.

  But there is one thing I must beg you to do for me. Think of it as a desperate attempt to atone for a deadly sin. You must promise me that you will never tell anyone else the terrible secret you told me today, especially the Pandavas. Yudhishthira, with his ridiculously blind adherence to dharma, will insist on giving the Kingdom to me. He is perfectly capable of making Bheema and Arjuna comply, even though they may find it hard to do so. And I will hand it over to Duryodhana, make no mistake. If that were to happen, then all will be lost and Mother Earth will be shrouded in darkness, perhaps forever. I do not want to be the harbinger of such monumental disaster. Let fate run its inexorable course. I may be its hapless victim, or even its pitiable instrument, but I refuse to be its traitorous henchman as well!’

  Krishna hugged Karna and said, ‘So be it, Karna! You make me proud, for despite constant exposure to evil, you have somehow preserved a remnant of purity and goodness. You may go now with my blessings. I wish it were not so, but you are doing the right thing by the code of higher ethics. Your actions today have made you the great hero you always aspired to be. It is unfortunate that you have been despised and scorned so by your contemporaries, but future generations will speak kindly of you and revere you in the same way as the Pandavas. Go in peace!’

  Karna looked at Krishna one last time and allowed his approbation to wash over him like a precious panacea. The turmoil in his soul dissipated and left in its wake a blessed acceptance. And then he walked away without looking back.

  Having concluded his business in Hastinapura, Krishna decided to leave at once. He reflected that he had done all in his power to explore a peaceful solution to the problems between the cousins. He had failed, of course, but that was part of the grand scheme of things and he decided it would be futile to mull over matters any more than he already had. While on his way out of the city, he made a brief halt to thank his host, Vidura, for his gracious hospitality. Kunti was dwelling at that kindly man’s residence and she looked at Krishna anxiously, for she had placed her utmost faith in the Lord and hoped fervently that he would be able to somehow avert war. But Krishna shook his head and she knew that all was lost.

  Kunti spent the next few days in agony. She worried ceaselessly over the safety of her sons. With the reality of war staring them in the face, there was little else to think about. Watching the fervent preparations Duryodhana was making for the massacre ahead, made her feel worse. Bhishma, Drona, Kripa and Karna, would be fighting for that accursed son of Gandhari and it made Kunti heartsick to think of what they were capable of doing. But she realized that the veteran warriors loved her sons almost as much as she did and would not harm them. Karna, however, hated them, and his hatred bothered her the most.

  The mother of the Pandavas decided that it was time to meet her firstborn and do what she could to save him from the sin of fratricide and her younger sons from mortal peril; and perhaps prevent the war from even taking place. And so it came to be that one morning, having offered up his prayers to the benign Sun God, Karna found his real mother who, after giving birth to him, had wasted little time in sending him out of her life in an ornate basket, as an orphan drifting towards his unknown destiny in the harsh world that lay waiting to receive him. Mother and son stared at each other, neither daring to speak first. Then Karna said, ‘How may I, the son of the charioteer Adhiratha and Radha, be of service to you?’

  The barb found its mark and Kunti cried out like a wounded soul. The words poured out of her in a rush: ‘Radha is not your mother. I am. You were born to me by the grace of the Sun God. Sage Durvasa taught me the son-bearing mantra, and in a moment of playfulness, I used it while still a maiden and became pregnant with you. The thought of disgracing my father and becoming an outcast was more than I could bear. In order to save my honour, I had to let you go! But believe me when I say that this sinner has led a wretched life thereafter. Guilt and sorrow have been my twin companions ever since. I suffered the loss of my husband; have known frightful poverty; I have been forced to live upon the charity of others; and worst of all, I lived to see my daughter-in-law disgraced and my sons exiled.

  But none of that compares to what I went through when I forced myself to part from you and later, when you and Arjuna met in that tournament and became mortal enemies. My two sons not knowing they are brothers and determined to kill each other! Fate has been cruel to me. But it is still not too late. Now that you know the truth, you cannot fight your brothers. For then you will be guilty of the sin of fratricide and I will be guilty of causing your damnation in the next life as well. You must promise not to harm your brothers. Leave Duryodhana and take your rightful place at the head of the Pandavas. Karna and Arjuna will be united and nobody and nothing will be able to touch the two of you! Everything you lost because of me will be restored to you and somehow the great wrong I did you will be righted!’

  At that point, Surya too, spoke to Karna: ‘Kunti speaks the truth, Karna. She is your mother and I am your father. You must listen to her for her advice is sound and entirely for your benefit. A nobler son I could not have asked for and it is with pride that I claim parentage. If you persist on serving Duryodhana, you will be hastening towards your destruction. Do as Kunti says, go join your brothers.’

  Karna listened respectfully to the well-meaning words of his father, but he knew that he would be unable to comply as his mind was irrevocably made up. Turning to address the mother who had abandoned him, he felt the anger he had suppressed all along come boiling to the surface. ‘How can you call yourself my mother? You chose to abandon me when I was a helpless infant and you still think of yourself as my mother? With a single heartless action, you conde
mned me to a lifetime of persecution, cruelty, and ill-usage. If it had not been for Radha, I would have even lost the gift of life. Did you know that her breasts which had been fallow for many years, filled with milk when she saw me? She nurtured and loved me unconditionally. That noble woman is my mother, not you.

  Even after all this time, you care little for me. You talk about your suffering, but you don’t pause to think, for otherwise you would have known that what I was put through, thanks to you, was infinitely worse. I know why you are here after all these years of neglect. I am under no delusion that you have come because you care just a little bit for my personal safety. You come because of the worry you feel over the safety of your sons. After all, I can destroy them in the same time it took you to cast me adrift!

  All your talk about my birth, the bonds of brotherhood and fratricide, has been carefully crafted to separate me from my friend and procure the safety of your sons! Why are you so worried about me committing the sin of fratricide? Have you no confidence in your Arjuna? I myself agree with your assessment of the outcome of our contest, but there are many who would say that each of us stands an equal chance of being vanquished by the other. Are you not concerned about him committing the same sin? But it is nothing to you whether I live or die. I know that Arjuna will never hear about this elder brother from you. I don’t think you will do it, for you would rather have me die at his hands than have your precious sons realise that you are not the noble lady everybody makes you out to be!’