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Mahabharata

Page 54

by Carole Satyamurti


  Krishna’s sister as his bride; how he rescued

  Duryodhana from the gandharvas; recall

  how he beat off the Kaurava cattle raid,

  sending you scurrying for safety! Why

  did you not defeat him on that occasion?

  Arjuna and Krishna are unsurpassed.

  Stop your bragging, if you have any sense.”

  “Enough! Enough!” cried Karna, full of rage.

  “Time enough, when I have fought the Pandava,

  to know if your taunts are fair, or puffs of smoke.

  Now, charioteer, rouse up my splendid horses!

  Make haste! Let us ride in search of Arjuna.”

  As they went he made a handsome offer

  to all the Pandava soldiers whom they met:

  riches for anyone who would point out

  where Arjuna could be found. Shalya sneered.

  “No need to waste your wealth. For sure, Arjuna

  will be easy enough for you to find.

  When you are face to face with him, you’ll soon

  regret your foolish boasts and windy speech

  and long for the protection of your troops.

  You’ll wish you’d searched for him without success.

  In your longing to engage with Arjuna

  you are like a jackal, rash, deluded,

  who dreams of killing a ferocious tiger.

  Arjuna is a tiger; and you, my friend,

  are a mere jackal, and you always will be.”

  “I think you are a foe in friend’s clothing!”

  exclaimed Karna, furious and insulted,

  “but you will not succeed in weakening me.

  The Madras are known as an outlandish race,

  unclean in their habits and appearance.

  Your women are promiscuous and uncouth,

  they scratch their arses and piss standing up.

  Your people drink spirits and eat disgusting,

  impure substances. They commit robbery

  and procure abortions—horrible!

  Fickle, disloyal, unreliable,

  there is no sin a Madra won’t embrace.

  You’re clearly a stooge for the Pandavas,

  planted to discourage and alarm me.

  But no one will deflect me from my task.

  Out of respect for Duryodhana

  I hold my peace. But if you carry on

  I’ll separate your vile head from your shoulders.”

  “It is the backward citizens of Anga,”

  retorted Shalya, “who are the sinful ones—

  it’s said they even sell off their own children.

  That is the kind of people you rule over.

  Still—good and bad are found in every country.

  It’s easy to condemn the faults of others.

  What I am saying should not make you angry.”

  “I know better than you do,” said Karna,

  “the qualities of Arjuna and Krishna.

  But it is neither helpful in you, nor kind,

  to gloatingly remind me of them now.

  I shall fearlessly fight the Pandava.

  It’s true, I am troubled by the double curse

  I bear. But if my celestial weapons

  prove ineffective, my enemy will learn

  that I have many others. Just as the land

  resists the mighty pounding of the ocean

  so will I stand up to Arjuna

  with calm and hopeful heart. I know my skill;

  my gifts as an archer are at least as great

  as his. And if I boast, it is because

  boasting is fitting conduct for a warrior

  on the brink of battle—quite deliberate,

  not mindless bragging. Now, let us drive on.

  I entrust myself to the gods’ will.”

  No sooner had the two armies engaged

  than the Trigartas, always in the offing,

  with Arjuna their solitary target,

  attacked him like a swarm of killer bees.

  He made short work of them, but close behind

  came the legions of the Kaurava allies,

  and soon the battle became more general.

  Meanwhile, Karna was fighting the Panchalas

  and others among the Pandava allies,

  accompanied by three of his valiant sons,

  and they killed dozens of leading warriors.

  Grieving for Ghatotkacha, killed by Karna,

  Bhima cut off the head of Karna’s son,

  Satyasena, beautiful as the moon.

  He took aim at another son, Sushena,

  but Karna blocked his arrow, and then injured

  Bhima with several swift shafts of his own.

  Then, in an even more violent assault,

  he slammed seventy arrows into Bhima.

  So it continued. Karna, as if inspired,

  struck his enemies so fast and furiously

  that no one could make out how he took aim,

  only the blur of his strong arms in motion.

  He found himself confronting Yudhishthira.

  He destroyed the Pandava’s bow, and then,

  with ninety almost simultaneous arrows,

  stripped off his armor, bright with precious jewels

  like the night sky glittering with stars.

  Yudhishthira, enraged, fought back with lances

  and wounded Karna, who quite soon, however,

  deprived him of all weapons. Yudhishthira

  began to withdraw, but Karna laid a hand

  on his shoulder and, mindful of his promise,

  merely spoke to him. “Have you forgotten

  how a kshatriya should conduct himself?

  Leaving the battle to save your craven life,

  you are behaving like a timid brahmin.

  I would not stoop to kill one such as you.”

  Your nephew turned, pale with humiliation.

  He shouted to his troops, “Exert yourselves!”

  The Pandava troops then flung themselves against

  the Kauravas, who returned their vicious blows,

  yelling wildly with a savage joy

  until the earth was littered with the limbs

  of heroic combatants, drunk with battle.

  The sound of music coming from the sky

  was heard above the din, as apsarases

  greeted heroes newly arrived in heaven.

  That sound made those still battling below

  more careless of their lives, anticipating

  the pleasures that awaited them. They fought

  like men possessed; if they lost their weapons

  they tore at one another with their nails,

  punched, bit each other, dragged at each other’s hair,

  hurled themselves into the lake of blood

  that grew ever wider.

  Bhima had seen

  Karna inflict shame on Yudhishthira

  and was as eager to avenge his brother

  as Karna was keen to re-engage with him.

  “Truly,” said Shalya, seeing Bhima coming,

  “I never saw Bhima look so menacing.

  He looks as if he could dispatch the creatures

  of all three worlds together!” Karna laughed.

  “Quite right,” he said. “But if I can wound Bhima,

  or destroy his chariot, then Arjuna

  will come for me. And that is what I want—

  have wanted all my life.” Shalya drove

  at Bhima, and the two great warriors clashed.

  Painful wounds were inflicted by each of them,

  arrows thudding into each other’s body,

  ripping through armor, taking the breath away.

  At last Bhima, drawing his bow right back,

  loosed an arrow straight at Karna’s heart

  with such deadly force that Karna fainted,

  and Shalya drove him out of shooting range.

  Exhilarated, Bhima t
hen attacked

  and killed many more of your brave sons.

  Karna, recovered, went back to the assault

  against Bhima, and destroyed his chariot.

  Bhima jumped down and, brandishing his mace

  like Indra destroying mountains with his thunder,

  charged the Kaurava elephant division,

  felling hundreds. He seemed superhuman,

  tackling Kaurava riders by the thousand,

  smashing a hundred of the foremost chariots

  and several hundred foot soldiers.

  Meanwhile,

  Karna had returned to Yudhishthira,

  again succeeding in making him retreat,

  and killing his charioteer. Hour after hour

  battle raged between the two great armies.

  To and fro went the advantage, like the sea’s

  shifting tides under the governing moon.

  And still Karna had not come face to face

  with Arjuna. Almost like one who knows

  his true place is with his absent soul mate,

  he longed for him. Only when they met,

  weapon against weapon, body for body,

  would his life achieve its resolution.

  But Arjuna was fighting the Trigartas

  yet again. This time, he and Krishna

  blew on their conches, and while the enemy

  was confused by the immense and brutal din

  which scrambled the brain, Arjuna invoked

  the Naga weapon, to paralyze the limbs

  of his enemies. Each of them found

  his legs encircled with strong writhing snakes,

  hampering his movement. Then Susharman,

  king of the Trigartas, mobilized

  the Sauparna weapon, which brought flocks of birds

  to gorge themselves, feasting on serpent flesh.

  The Trigartas went back to the attack,

  wounding Arjuna. Then he invoked

  the Aindra weapon, slaughtering many thousands,

  but still your son’s staunch allies would not give up;

  only the death of Arjuna, or their own,

  could fulfill their vow.

  Karna, now,

  fought like a celestial incarnate.

  Wherever he was, the sun seemed specially bright.

  None who saw him balancing on his chariot,

  armored all in gold, could ever forget him.

  Years afterward, survivors telling children

  tales of their heroic past might say,

  “I saw Karna fight at Kurukshetra,

  mowing down the Pandavas like grass

  and with extraordinary grace and beauty,

  radiant as the sun. I can assure you

  the world will never know his like again.”

  The day wore on. If you could have looked down

  on the battlefield from a great height,

  it might have seemed an altar, with offerings

  of all the precious wealth of the whole world.

  The altar cloth was red, of varied shades

  from poppy scarlet through to almost black.

  It looked like a tapestry without design

  (or, if there was one, it was not apparent)

  and on it were objects, some moving, some still,

  gray mounds, shining shapes, glittering colors,

  gold and precious jewels without number.

  What deity could ask such hard-won riches?

  Who was entitled to such sacrifice?

  Krishna scanned the field. “I fear Yudhishthira

  must be badly wounded. I cannot see

  his standard anywhere, and the Panchalas

  are rushing forward, as if to rescue him.”

  Arjuna urged Bhima to find their brother

  but Bhima was reluctant, fearing to seem

  as though he was avoiding Karna. Krishna

  urged on the horses, and he and Arjuna

  hurried to Yudhishthira’s tent, and found him

  lying on his bed, hurt but alive.

  Joyfully, he greeted Arjuna.

  “Your coming must mean Karna is no more!

  All these years, the thought of him, the dread,

  has never left me. And since he overcame me

  yet let me go, my rage and shame have burned me

  with unbearable pain. Tell me everything!

  Tell me how you fought and slaughtered him.”

  “I had to fight again with the Trigartas,”

  said Arjuna. “Karna was terrorizing

  our troops, and I was just about to find him

  to send him flying to the realm of Death

  when I heard that you were injured, perhaps killed,

  so I hurried here at once.” Yudhishthira

  was angry and disappointed. “Arjuna,

  this is dishonorable! You made a promise

  that you would kill Karna, that wicked soul.

  Even at your birth, it was predicted

  that you would vanquish all our enemies.

  How is it that you have fallen so short?

  Your bow Gandiva is all-powerful,

  you have the blessed Krishna for your driver.

  The divine monkey adorns your banner.

  If, despite all this, you can’t succeed,

  give Gandiva to another warrior

  and let him finish off that villain Karna!”

  Arjuna blazed with anger. He drew his sword

  and would have killed Yudhishthira if Krishna

  had not held him back. “Arjuna! Stop now!

  You came here to check on Yudhishthira;

  you have seen him. Why are you so angry?”

  “I made a secret promise to myself,”

  said Arjuna, “that I would kill anyone

  who told me I should pass Gandiva over

  to someone braver.”

  “That is no excuse,”

  said Krishna. “You have violated dharma.

  To draw your sword when not engaged in battle

  is wrong; to draw it on your elder brother

  is a deep outrage. That vow you made

  was foolishness. And Yudhishthira spoke

  in pain from his wounds, without reflecting.”

  “Oh, Krishna,” said Arjuna, “you always speak

  wisely. But now how can I do what’s right?

  If I were to kill my beloved brother

  I would commit the most appalling sin.

  But if I break my word, I shall be unrighteous

  according to the scriptures. What’s to be done?”

  Krishna replied, “Scripture is well and good,

  but it does not provide for every case.

  Sometimes we have to use our powers of reason.

  Remember the example of Kaushika:

  “

  THERE WAS ONCE an ascetic called Kaushika, who lived in an isolated spot at the confluence of many rivers. He was not very well educated in the Vedas, but he made a vow that he would always speak the truth, and became famous in those parts as a truth-teller.

  “One day, some fugitives ran past his house, being pursued by robbers, and they entered a nearby wood. Soon afterward, the robbers arrived. ‘Holy one, which way did those people go?’ they asked. ‘We know you always speak the truth.’

  “‘They ran among the trees, over there,’ replied Kaushika.

  “Off rushed the robbers; they caught up with their quarry and killed them all. And foolish Kaushika was consigned to deepest hell.

  “So, Arjuna, you must understand:

  dharma is about doing the least harm—

  you decide, therefore, what you should do.”

  Arjuna remained perplexed. “Well,” said Krishna,

  “I suggest you could fulfill your vow

  by doing harmless harm to Yudhishthira.

  You could address him disrespectfully—

  that could be seen as symbolizing murder.

  After that, prostrate
yourself before him,

  touching his feet. And, in that way, honor

  on your side and on his will be satisfied.

  You will avoid both fratricide and falsehood.

  Then, apply yourself to fighting Karna.”

  A chastened Arjuna obeyed: “Yudhishthira,

  what you have said to me, even if prompted

  by pain and disappointment, is most unfeeling.

  If Bhima had addressed me in this way,

  I could have taken it, since he tirelessly

  pits himself against the enemy.

  But you are constantly away from battle,

  protecting yourself, or else being protected.

  Everything we do, the risks we take,

  all the searing wounds inflicted on us,

  are for your good. And the only reason

  that we are here, rather than enjoying

  a life of pleasant ease in Indraprastha,

  is your love of gambling, nothing else.

  For this alone, millions of brave men

  have lost their lives, condemning wives and children

  to a bereft and comfortless existence.”

  Having spoken, Arjuna was appalled

  at what he had just said. He drew his sword,

  this time to kill himself. Krishna stopped him.

  “How impetuous you are, Arjuna.

  Kill yourself, and you certainly will go

  to the vilest hell imaginable.

  Say something now to praise your own merits—

  that will be tantamount to suicide.”

  Arjuna boasted of his accomplishments,

  after which he put away his sword

  and asked his eldest brother for forgiveness.

  But Yudhishthira had taken Arjuna

  seriously and, rising from his bed,

  lamented, blaming himself bitterly.

  “Bhima should be king instead of me!

  I should retire to the farthest forest

  in penance, for the remainder of my days.”

  “Yudhishthira,” said Krishna, “please forgive me.

  It is my fault that Arjuna was moved

  to speak the way he did. Now, let all this

  be forgotten. Today, without a doubt,

  Karna will be killed by Arjuna.”

  Yudhishthira became relieved and cheerful.

  “What would we do without you? You always

  guide us wisely when we lose our way!”

  Yudhishthira and Arjuna embraced,

  weeping, comforting each other. Arjuna

  bowed to his brother, clasping his two feet.

  “Today, I shall kill Karna. Until I do,

  I shall not return. When you next see me

  it will be as Karna’s conqueror.”

  43.

  TRAGIC KARNA

 

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