by Unknown
"Prince! You are right, I am Vasusena Karna, and my father owes his employment as charioteer to the kindness of your father. I am the son of Athiratha and Radha."
"What brings you here at this odd hour?"
"I... I... I am on a pilgrimage to the holy places in the South."
"Pilgrimage! Are you old enough to go on a pilgrimage? And where are you headed to in the South?"
"Oh... to Rameswaram, Gokarna, Muzaris, Madurai, Sree Sailam, Kalahasthi... My Guru has advised me to travel," replied Karna, gazing at the boys steadily.
"It is rather strange that Guru Kripa advised you to go on a pilgrimage. But best of luck, my friend. Come and see me when you return," Suyodhana said.
Karna bowed. Without looking back, the charioteer's son walked away. His destination was far away and his journey was long. Parashurama's kingdom was located at the southwestern tip of India and it took six months' arduous travel over hot deserts, imposing mountains, and raging rivers, to reach it. Many dangerous tribes like the Yakshas, Kiratas, Nishadas, Nagas, Gandharvas and Vanaras, dwelt in the thick jungles on the way. It was an expedition of extreme peril for a teenager to undertake alone. But seeing him walk away with determined steps, Suyodhana felt nothing in this world could have stopped Karna. The Crown Prince of Hastinapura and Aswathama watched him vanish into the trees.
"Aswathama, I have a feeling he will be back. He is not going to be a Priest. I can see it in the way he carries himself - so proud, so confident. This is one of Kripa's practical jokes. Mark my words, that boy is going to come back and nothing will be the same again."
"Keep dreaming, my friend," laughed Aswathama. "Now, let's get some exercise. Let's see if a Prince's legs are as strong as those of a poor Brahmin boy." Aswathama sprinted off towards the distant palace, hooting and howling; frightening the sleeping birds, which exploded in wild cries above them. Suyodhana gave chase, smiling broadly.
*
*
*
8 RAMA WITH THE PLOUGH
BY WINTER, KARNA HAD CROSSED the desert and reached the ancient and holy city of Prabhasa, along with a party of merchants. The training Kripa had given him on Brahmin rituals stood Karna in good stead and the doors of inns and temples magically opened to him. The sacred thread he wore was a ticket to perpetual free meals. Rich merchants and Princes bowed before him. He was uneasy with the duplicity and was often tempted to cry out that he was a mere Suta, not an exalted Brahmin as they thought, but food was scarce and nobody would have given him a job had he spoken the truth. He had to reach Parashuramakhestra. Had Kripa not told him that a Brahmin is one who seeks knowledge and not merely one who is born into a Brahmin family? Since he was indeed in search of knowledge, there was nothing wrong in calling himself a Brahmin. The son of a charioteer reminded himself of his teacher's words to calm his burning conscience.
Karna halted in Prabhasa for a few weeks and watched a tribe of migrating cowherds from the Yamuna plains. They were the Yadavas, fleeing their ancient kingdom of Mathura, following an invasion by the powerful monarch of Magadha, Jarasandha. The Yadavas had camped near Prabhasa, close to the ancient temple of Somanatha, and were now planning to move on. Karna was invited along with a group of other Brahmins, to a feast the Yadava leader was hosting at the temple. He hesitated to go, afraid someone would discover he was an imposter. If it became known he was a Suta and had dared to dine with his betters, death would surely follow. However, he could find no way of refusing the invitation without sounding churlish, so he was compelled to go along.
Karna tried to make himself as inconspicuous as possible as the Yadavas came to wash the Brahmins' feet. The soiled water was considered holy and sprinkled on the crowd that had come to watch. The Brahmins were then invited into a hall where plantain leaves had been laid out to serve the feast. As Karna chanted the mantra along with hundreds of Brahmins, before touching the food, he caught sight of a dark young man, a few years older than himself. With a peacock feather tucked into his curly hair and a garland of marigolds around his neck, he had the look of a handsome dandy. The yellow robes, the bamboo flute tucked conspicuously into the sash at his waist, and the easy, confident way he carried himself, added to the man's charisma. Karna felt uneasy in his presence. It was as though he could hide nothing from this dark young man who exuded such raw energy. Karna felt he was in the presence of someone dangerous but he seemed to be the only person in the room to be so affected. The young man was all charm, sweetness and wit, and people hung on his every word; laughing uproariously at his jokes. 'Perhaps I feel guilty because I have a secret to hide,' thought Karna. He prayed for this ordeal to end.
"Why are you sweating, my friend?" The old Brahmin, who had been Karna's travelling companion for some time now, was sitting next to him. He fanned Karna with his angavastra and touched his forehead to check for fever.
"It is nothing, Swami," Karna replied quickly, feeling guilty about the old man's kindness. He watched with concern as the dark young man began walking towards them. Karna stopped eating. He could feel his heart thumping furiously in his chest.
When the young man was just a few feet away and Karna was convinced his cover had been blown, a booming voice filled the room. "Namaskara, learned men! We are honoured by your presence."
Every eye turned towards the towering man standing at the entrance with folded hands. He was dressed in white. The broad shoulders rippled with muscle. His straight hair had been combed into a tight knot to the right of his forehead. He exuded power, authority and elegance. But more than anything, it was his smile that set him apart from every other man in the room. There was more kindness and benevolence in those eyes that twinkled with amusement than Karna had ever seen in anyone.
"Krishna, what are you doing here? Come, help me serve our guests." The dark young man moved towards the newcomer, smiling quizzically but his eyes never left Karna, whose appetite had vanished long ago. He stood up now, abandoning his meal. As he went out to wash his hands, he found Krishna standing next to him, his arms folded across his chest, a smile on his face. Karna stopped in his tracks. Suddenly his fear fell away. His cover had been blown and he was prepared to face the consequences.
"Who are you, brother?" Krishna asked sweetly.
"Vasusena Karna."
"Hmm, and which caste are you?"
Karna said nothing but he wanted to scream, 'How does it matter?' He felt the familiar frustration welling up. All his efforts had been in vain. All the travails, the hard work, all those mornings he had stood shivering in the cold waters of the Ganga, as Kripa taught him the Gayatri Mantra and the Vedas; it had all been for nothing. He had the wrong surname and it did not matter that he had the talent and willingness to work harder than anybody else.
Just as Karna was about to answer that he was a mere Suta, he heard the by now familiar, boisterous voice say, "Krishna, there you are, standing around chatting, while everyone is waiting to hear my dear brother play the flute. Please allow me the honour of entertaining this learned Brahmin."
"But Balarama bhaiya..."
Before Krishna could object any further, Balarama caught Karna by the hand and started walking away. Karna struggled to keep pace with the Yadava leader, who said over his shoulder, "Krishna, go and do what you are good at and leave governing to the head of the Yadava Council, my boy."
***
Krishna stood for a few moments more, shaking his head in amusement as his brother dragged the young Brahmin towards his chamber. Did Balarama know what he was doing? 'Such upstarts will destroy society and the country,' Krishna thought sadly. 'These emotional men and women, led by their senses and not by logic, bring disaster upon everyone. Society remains stable because there is a place for everyone and everything in chaturvarna.'
Krishna failed to understand why men like Kripa and Carvaka were against one of the most efficient systems developed for a stable society. In chaturvarna, each person knew his kula and dharma, and hence his path in life. A man born as a charioteer got the best
possible training to become one and excel in that profession. He learnt the trade from childhood. He did not have to fear any competition and his livelihood was assured. So was it with other professions, be it trade, the Priesthood, or medicine. Men and women did not waste precious years of their lives learning skills that were of no use to them. Instead, they became experts in their kula dharma.
What was the alternative? Everybody learning whatever they liked and competing with each other to survive, like animals? Such societies could only collapse. Chaturvarna had been developed by Lord Vishnu himself as the Preserver of social order. 'Why do I always dream that I was born into this world to preserve order? Perhaps I am Vishnu's avatar; the one sages have long predicted will appear.' Krishna smiled at the thought. '"I am Vishnu, Preserver of the Universe," had a nice ring to it. Why not? I have come to preserve dharma in the world. How good our pastoral life was when we followed kula dharma. Ah Radha! My first love. Where are you now?' Krishna almost said the words aloud, and then shook his head, a mocking smile on his lips. 'Am I getting emotional? Never! Stithapranja is the aim of the ideal man - to remain calm in all circumstances, all the time - in birth, death, love, war or peace. Live in the world like a drop of water on a lotus petal, thinking only about doing one's duty, irrespective of the results, and not getting bothered about success or failure. That is the meaning of life!'
It was unfortunate that some men had to die in the cause of dharma. Some of them were good men, but misguided. Krishna thought about the Crown Prince of Hastinapura. Suyodhana was a large-hearted fool who was destabilizing society. The young 'Brahmin' he had met today was another example of misguided youth. Krishna smiled to himself thinking that the foolish boy had not hoodwinked him for even a minute. He knew. Karna should have been content to have become the best Suta; instead, he wanted to be something else, and he was going to cause a great deal of trouble. Such a waste. Bhishma too, was a truly noble man, but again, misguided. If he wanted to fight the system, he should fight for the equality of the varnas, instead of mixing the castes. That could only lead to chaos. His own brother Balarama was doing everything possible to harm the established order by moving the Yadavas away from their kula dharma of cow herding towards agriculture and trade. It was going to end in catastrophe. 'War might be the only answer,' Krishna pondered sorrowfully. War would bring death and destruction, but there was little choice. 'Life! Death! They were but two sides of the same coin. Is there anything called Death? Does the Soul die? Surely, the Soul is eternal - without beginning or end. Atma! My slice of the Universal Soul, the Supreme Paramatama.'
Life was nothing but the animated manifestation of the supreme soul. Death was its transformation to the inanimate. The soul remains, just the forms change, as per the rhythm of the universe. The dance of energy, from inanimate to animate, from death to life and life to death. This is the eternal cycle! How does it matter if a few people die or live in this vast universe: the timeless, beginingless, endless infinity that always was and always will be? Does it care if someone lives or dies? Then why are men so afraid of death and war? As there is a rhythm in the universe, there should be a rhythm for society, for life. Men like Suyodhana were creating disharmony, like misbeats in the tala. This young man was going to be another headache. It is sad, yet a few had to die. A war, an all-consuming war would be required. That is my burden, thought Krishna, may be my duty, my dharma and I have to do it without worrying about the consequences.
'Where are you running to, Karna? Ultimately you will have to face me.' Krishna chuckled at the thought.
"Krishna, the sabha is waiting for you." A Yadava elder came to him and touched his shoulder.
Krishna smiled, pulled his flute from his sash, and walked towards the sabha. As he entered, the entire assembly rose in applause. He stood before them and smiled at the percussionists who were acknowledging him by tapping their mrudanga. Soon, the magic of his music carried the entire sabha to another world, where there was only beauty and love. The real world stood still, in rapturous attention.
***
Meanwhile, a trembling Karna stood before the seated Yadava leader. He had decided to fight if the powerful man before him ordered his death for impersonating a Brahmin. Faintly, he could hear music and tried to shut it out.
"Sit down, my friend," said Balarama, gesturing with one hand.
Karna was surprised at the kindness in his voice. 'Perhaps he is not as observant as his younger brother and has not seen through my deception.' Then Karna shook his head, not wishing to continue the pretence. "Swami, I am not what you think. I am a lowly Suta, not a Brahmin. I belong to one of the lower jatis of the Shudras, hardly above Pariahs and other Untouchables."
"Oh! Who is a Suta? And why is he lower than a Brahmin and higher than a Pariah? I am only an ignorant farmer. Please educate me."
Karna heard the smile in Balarama's question. It made him angry. He should never have agreed to this farce. He ought to have stayed in Hastinapura and helped his father. Better still, he should have ended his life in the Ganga; if only Kripa had not been so hell bent on saving him. This was all Kripa's idea of a practical joke. "My father is a Suta charioteer and the Pariahs are..." The loathsomeness of what he had said struck him then. That such words could escape his mouth showed that he too, was not free of caste prejudice.
Balarama enjoyed the spectacle of the proud young man squirming at his own words. "You may have thought ill of the Brahmins until you realized that you too, are capable of uttering the same words you accuse others of. You have travelled in the company of Brahmins. How disgusting have you found them to be as individuals?"
Karna remained silent, feeling more ashamed with every passing minute. He remembered the old Brahmin who had been his companion for most of the journey; who treated him like a son. He was one of the most learned men Karna had met and commanded the respect of all. The septuagenarian had once trekked for three hours to find a physician when Karna had fallen ill. 'Perhaps he would not have done it had he known I was a Suta and not a Brahmin at all,' thought Karna bitterly.
"I am sure you would have found in that group some men of noble character, some charlatans, and the majority who just follow whatever the collective is doing, without questioning anything. There is nothing special about that. Take any group of people and you will find the same thing. Remember, they too, are victims of the system. The people who meekly follow caste rules are really the people who are afraid of breaking them. They are cowardly, not cruel. They deserve understanding rather than derision. The future is in the hands of young men like you, who must lead the change. Our country deserves a better system. You are neither above the poor Pariah nor below any Brahmin, Kshatriya, Vaishya, or any jati or varna. You are what you think you are. I had hoped Kripa would have taught you that by now."
Karna was shocked to hear his Guru's name. Balarama laughed. "Why are you so shocked? He and I are old friends. He wrote to me about you as soon as you left Hastinapura. In fact, your Guru has gone a step further to ensure you are not caught. Knowing you are not well versed with certain rituals, he entrusted you to the care of one of the most learned Brahmins in the group. The old man who has been travelling with you and even acted as your nurse once, is your protector and guide at Kripa's request."
Karna burned with shame at the uncharitable thoughts he had harboured about the old man. He had known all along that Karna was a Suta, yet he had not shown any sign of the prejudice and aversion Karna had come to associate with his caste superiors.
"Karna, remember one thing in life. Never associate any evil with a group. Hate their sins, but not the people. Be generous. Keep giving and the world will return those favours manifold. I know young men of your age do not enjoy receiving advice from older people like me, so I will not bore you further. Since you are going to Muzaris, why not take a ride in one of my ships? It will carry you swiftly to your destination. It will be fun and a great adventure for someone your age. Yes, I know I am asking you to break the taboo the Priests ha
ve decreed. If everyone who travelled by sea lost their caste, it would be the best thing to happen to us. Our civilization produced great adventurers and sailors in days gone by. I want to bring those glorious days back. That is why I have chosen to build my dream city of Dwaraka by the sea. What was once the glory of the Asuras of the South, I want to bring to all of India. I will build cities all along the Eastern and Western coasts of this vast land and connect them with large ports on our mighty rivers."
Balarama walked up and down like a man possessed. Karna watched in fascination as the enigmatic leader of the Yadavas spelt out his vision not only for his own clan, but also for the whole of India. "I want to open the world to my people. They should not remain ignorant cattle-herders, led by selfish Priests, stuck with ancient rituals and meaningless mumbo-jumbo. You will have observed that rulers roam about wearing weapons of their choice - they are leaders because they have the power to hurt, kill and maim. It is the fear of the sword, which earns them respect. I too, used to command respect with my mace when I was younger but as wisdom slowly seeped into my head, I have come to believe that true leadership means earning respect through my deeds. So I have abandoned the mace and now carry a plough. It is not just an agricultural implement. I carry it as a symbol of progress. I wish for agriculture to flourish, trade to boom. It is a dream I share with people like Kripa, Bhishma, Vidhura and Carvaka. Do not look so surprised, my boy. We all share the same dream, only our methods differ. The dream of wiping out hunger from this land and giving dignity to people, who live like animals, may not turn into reality in our lifetimes, but why should we worry when there are young men like you, who are bold enough to travel thousands of miles in search of knowledge?"
