by Unknown
Karna whirled his horse round quickly and took flight. Suddenly it began raining arrows. He ducked and weaved across dry shrubs and leaped over boulders, urging his horse through puddles of water at a gallop, trying desperately to gather speed. The sun was a ball of fire over his head and the desert sizzled with heat. Karna sped across the heart of the holy river, praying. He had to make it to cover and fight back before an arrow found its mark. He turned his head as he jumped over a thorny shrub and saw them clearly. There were four warriors and they were gaining on him. Karna whipped out his bow again and shot an arrow without slowing his horse. He had aimed at the leading man's head, but the man ducked easily and continued gaining on Karna. Another arrow hit Karna's armour, almost piercing it. He knew he was at a disadvantageous position. He was outnumbered and fleeing from them. His back was towards them and he had lost precious seconds in turning his body to take aim. He had no choice other than to be recklessly brave.
Karna pulled at the reigns of his horse suddenly and it stopped dead in its tracks. He jumped down and shot an arrow, all in one fluid movement. It pierced the eye of one of the warriors, and he fell from his steed. The remaining three did not even pause to look back at their fallen colleague. They had been through enough battles to be indifferent to death. Karna tried to suppress his rising panic as he saw them approaching. He fired the next arrow. This time it caught the right arm of a galloping warrior, who uttered a foul curse as he plucked it from his flesh without caring to look at the wound. The leader shot an arrow that almost got Karna. It missed the Suta's throat by a whisker but pierced the horse's stomach. It neighed and began thrashing around wildly.
As they neared the trapped Suta, the warriors put their bows back and drew out their glistening swords. Karna shot arrow upon arrow at them. He found his mark many times but none of the hits was fatal or sufficient to slow the warriors. Finally, he threw away his bow and arrow and fumbled at his waist. He could see the looming figure of the leader closing in on him as he tried desperately to extricate his sword. The horse had fallen and was thrashing wildly. In the nick of time, Karna pulled his sword free and blocked certain death with inches to spare. Sparks fell over him from the clanging swords as he panted with exertion.
The leader smiled at Karna as the three remaining warriors circled him on their horses. Hardened veterans as they were, Karna's foolhardy resistance was rather amusing. They jumped down from their horses and stood in combat position, swishing their swords gently, taunting the Suta. They had been pursuing Karna for days and were bored with inaction. Hastinapura was only a day's journey away and the spot they had chosen to end the Suta's adventure was the last desolate area. A few leagues further on, villages and small towns peppered the highway to Hastinapura. They had to finish this upstart with no witnesses to link the crime to their master. On their way back, many taverns offering heady brews and beautiful women, awaited them. The leader gestured to one of his companions to end this silly task.
The warrior who moved to kill Karna was arrogant and confident of his own skill. What could a novice barely out of his teens do to a veteran of many battles like him? He had not reckoned on Karna's skill or ferocity while fighting for his life. In a few seconds, the man was bleeding from numerous cuts as the Suta fought like a cornered beast. Things were not looking good for the pursuers. There was no one about to see if three men took on one youngster together, so the leader slyly moved to corner Karna, gesturing to his companions to attack from the other side. A thrust of the sword in the back was what the upstart deserved after all. It did not work out the way the leader had planned. Instead, Karna left him sprawling on the sand with a powerful kick on the shin before he could even use his sword.
"Why are you doing this to me? What wrong have I done to you?" Karna yelled in anger. "Get lost! Do not make me kill you. I am sorry about your friend."
The warriors looked at each other in surprise. The death of their companion had not bothered them at all. Death was a warrior's unfailing friend, but the audacity of a Suta to say to their faces that he would kill them, was unbearable. "Enough of these games," the leader shouted to his two comrades. "Let us teach this bastard a lesson."
The three warriors rushed at Karna with drawn swords, screaming abuse and taunting him about his low caste. Suddenly they halted, looking in amazement at the sizzling, ribbon-like weapon in Karna's right hand. They had never seen anything like it. It wriggled like a snake.
"What is this, you buffoon? Your mother's ribbon?" the leader asked. The others burst into uproarious laughter. The hilarity stopped when the urumi wrapped around the leader's neck in the blink of an eye. The blood drained from the leader's face. He knew what it was now. He had never seen the weapon but had heard about it from people who had travelled to Asura territory. It was a vicious thing with a mind of its own. He could feel its sharpness cutting into his neck.
"Let me go on my way and I will not hurt any of you," Karna pleaded again.
The leader could see the logic in the Suta's cry; however, before he could say anything, his foolish companions rushed towards Karna with their swords. His scream of "NO!" was never completed. The holy riverbed of the Saraswati had been soaked with blood since the dawn of civilization. The leader's severed head was just a minor addition to her bloody treasures. His companions soon met the same fate. It was all over before it had really begun.
Then the unexpected happened. A few indifferent crows, a dying river, and some sorry shrubs, were the only witnesses. Bards in the pay of the avatars would have thrived on such a scene and narrated how wise men were right in saying that only people born into the Kshatriya caste could be warriors. How else could one account for the foolish son of a charioteer who sat on the dry riverbed for a long time, feeling guilty about the lives he had taken? And which idiot waited two days in the desert, nursing his wounded horse, instead of thrusting his sword into its heart and ending its misery, as any warrior would have done without blinking an eye? Which warrior sweated away under a blistering sun to give it a burial when it finally died? And which Kshatriya foraged for dry wood to give his slain foes a proper cremation instead of leaving their corpses for the foxes, wolves and vultures? It was a shame the Suta did not know the basics of dharma. His duty as a warrior was to kill, not to worry about the consequences. Until he learnt, he would never become a Kshatriya.
Such stupidity delayed Karna by another two days. The horses of his pursuers had escaped into the vastness of the desert and he had to walk the rest of the way. On the third day after his first killings, the charioteer's son resumed his fateful journey towards Hastinapura, without being fully aware of the peril he faced. The city awaited her prey - in her alleys and taverns, at her busy junctions, in shops and in places where more than two people met; they spoke of only one thing: the fate of the Suta upstart. Vidhura, Durjaya, and Dhaumya's men anxiously scanned the face of every new person arriving in the city, discreetly comparing it to what they assumed to be the sketch of Karna. Many enthusiastic young men, drawn by the bounty on his head, formed gangs to patrol the streets at night, stopping every stranger to question him about his credentials. They all waited for a man who looked like the charioteer Athiratha in his youth. They were sure Karna would try sneaking into the city in the dead of night.
On the eve of the grand ceremony, when the pompous parade of the Princes set the streets of Hastinapura alight, Karna entered the city unchallenged. It was an evening in which the crowds were dancing wildly to the beat of booming drums and blaring horns, and drunken men fell over each other on the footpaths. The celebrations on the streets claimed every eye. Two irritated guards, who would rather have been partying in the streets than doing their boring duty at the city gate, stopped Karna for a routine check. They glanced cursorily at his face, comparing it to the sketch of the wanted man. There was no resemblance. So they took their customary bribe and let him in without a second glance.
When Karna entered the tavern beyond the gates and heard the gossip, he finally understood
he was a wanted man, with a huge price on his head. Fortunately, no one recognized him but he knew it was only a matter of time before he bumped into someone from his childhood. He lost his appetite. Fear knotted his guts, making him dizzy. He could not touch the food spread on the plantain leaf before him. He paid for the food and folded the leaf. He did not want to leave it untouched. Someone's suspicions could be aroused. Instead, he casually walked out, like the many customers taking food home.
He had to hide somewhere for the night. The next day, he would somehow get into the arena and challenge the Princes. Perhaps they would not even allow him to display his prowess but would arrest or kill him before he even entered. It was also probable he would get only a few moments to demonstrate his skills. The whole of India was hunting for him for not allowing caste to stand in the way of his ambition. He had flouted traditions this holy land held sacred. He was sure he would pay the price. 'Oh Shiva,' prayed Karna, please let me live one more day, so that I can show my people what even a Suta can achieve if given half a chance.'
Karna was about to throw the food into the waste pit when he saw a beggar sitting under a tree. A dog sat resting its head on the beggar's lap. Karna walked over and put the food in front of him. The beggar smiled at Karna gratefully. Something in his eyes tugged at Karna's heart.
"Swami, you are very kind to feed our hunger. You are my Krishna, who has brought me food," the beggar said, folding his hands together to honour Karna.
Krishna's name sent shivers down Karna's spine. His fear returned. Did the beggar know he was a wanted man? Perhaps when the police questioned him later, the beggar would remember his face. He had to get away quickly.
"Swami, this is the second time you have given me food. I recognized you the moment I saw you entering the city. All these people are looking for the wrong face. How can I forget the taste of your mother's cooking? When I was a child, I came to your home with my friend; the night you stopped Takshaka so bravely. Swami, do you remember me?"
Karna remembered him now. He was the Untouchable boy who had come home that night with Prime Minister Vidhura. 'Oh God, he knows me! This is the end,' Karna thought. Ten thousand gold coins would make the beggar rich beyond his dreams and Karna cursed himself for his impulse in giving him food. A group of guards had arrived at the tavern entrance and were checking each traveller. Karna stood helplessly, unable to decide whether to run or stay; in the forlorn hope they would not recognise him.
"Swami, do not be afraid. Lord Krishna will be with you always. Trust me and climb this tree. There is a hole up there, where a man can hide. Quick, climb up now-" Jara urged in an urgent whisper.
Karna ran to the other side of the tree and hastily climbed up, his heart in his mouth. Why were they chasing him like a criminal? He crawled into the hole and held his breath. The dog barked and Karna peered down through the thick canopy. A couple of guards walked over to the beggar and shoved a cloth sketch in his face. Jara mumbled something. The guards began beating him with their sticks. Dharma's barking and the beggar's whimpering made people stop and stare before moving hurriedly away. Karna despised himself for not intervening to stop the guards. 'I must survive till Graduation day,' he reminded himself over and over. The guards finally left, kicking the dog into the gutter, where it lay yelping. When Karna regained his ability to breathe, Jara was chanting Krishna's name.
Karna had felt proud about giving him leftover food. The beggar's gratitude had made him feel big and important. Now, after what Jara had done for him, he felt small. What could have prompted the beggar to give up such a fortune when all he had to do was point a finger upwards? Was it just the little rice he had received or was it something inexplicable that Karna's tired mind could not grasp?
As the night wore on, the crowds in the streets thinned. The tavern finally closed its doors. The sky had exploded into a million stars. Jara hummed a tune. The dog stopped whining and moved closer. Jara's calloused hands caressed the creature's head. The night remained silent, almost in anticipation of something. Jara broke into joyous song. A pleasant breeze ruffled the leaves of the trees, as if keeping time and Karna felt peace descend upon him like a gentle mist. As Jara sang about the mercy and compassion of God, which made life so beautiful; and the kindness of humans, which made it so heavenly to live, the Suta drifted slowly into a dreamless sleep.
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18 GRADUATION
WHEN DRONA ENTERED, THE ENTIRE ASSEMBLY rose in respect. Aswathama, who accompanied his father, immediately moved towards Suyodhana, and Drona fumed. The Guru walked over to Kunti, who folded her hands in obeisance. Arjuna fell at his feet, leaving the other Pandava brothers to jostle for the Guru's favour.
Tenderly lifting Arjuna, who was lying prostrate at his feet, Drona looked at the handsome face of the Pandava Prince. What he would not give to have a son like Arjuna. Why could his own son not see the writing on the wall? The future belonged to the Pandavas. It would be wiser to attach himself to the winning side. It was evident in the way the Court had assembled. All the Priests, under Dhaumya, stood with the Pandavas. The only Brahmin standing with the Kauravas was the cranky Kripa, who was a special invitee of the Grand Regent. Perhaps, as Dhaumya sometimes said, Bhishma was showing signs of senility. How else could one account for the presence of Kripa in the Royal Assembly? One had only to look at how the clown was conducting himself now - chatting with the minions serving refreshments, cracking jokes, slapping his juniors in jest, and behaving without any respect for the Court or the great men and women who graced it. Drona could feel the anger emanating from the Brahmins near Kunti. They were fuming at this open flouting of the taboos. Kripa waved casually when he caught Drona's eye and even had the audacity to bow in mock deference. It took all the self-control the Guru had mastered with his yogic practices to keep from exploding with rage.
"Guru, years ago, a poor widow entrusted her boys to you and what noble men you have made them into," Kunti said to Drona, her hands folded in humility and appreciation.
"Devi, the seed of goodness and nobility lay in their hearts. I was merely the occasional shower that helped the seeds to grow. Today, they make us all proud. I was fortunate to have disciples like them," the Guru replied gracefully. He pulled Arjuna towards him and looked at the tall young man smiling at him. Drona felt something tug at his heartstrings. How he wished his son was like this man - what humility, what skill - he truly was the embodiment of perfection. Why did Aswathama always argue against everything written in the Holy Scriptures and befriend a no-gooder like Suyodhana? Arjuna, on the other hand, accepted everything wise men like Dhaumya said, without questioning them, and had the wisdom and humility to know that better men than he had written the scriptures and his duty was merely to follow them.
"You promised me you would make Arjuna the best warrior in the world, Guru. Today is the culmination of all our hopes and prayers. This poor widow will forever be in your debt."
"Devi, have no doubt your sons will surpass all others today. Is there any archer in India who can rival Arjuna? Is there anyone more skilled than Yudhishtra in the use of the lance? Bhima will show you how one can combine strength and skill. That lovable rascal is going to make the arrogant Suyodhana look a fool. Not that Suyodhana is bad with a mace, but who can beat your Bhima? Nakula and Sahadeva are excellent swordsmen. Even I am afraid to oppose them. You have been blessed with good sons and today you will see that my promise has been well kept," Drona said.
When Bhishma entered the sabha and saw the young faces looking up at him, pride swelled his heart. Today was an important day in the lives of the Princes. They represented the future of Hastinapura. On his right, Yudhishtra and his brothers stood in glittering splendour. To his left were the sons of Dhritarashtra, led by Crown Prince Suyodhana. The King's personal aide and scribe, Sanjaya, was describing the wonderful scene to the blind Royal couple. Kunti, Dhaumya and Drona stood together, Bhishma acknowledged their greetings. His saw Suyodhana, looking haugh
ty and indifferent to the drama surrounding him, and the Grand Regent could not suppress a smile.
The murmuring in the sabha subsided and all eyes turned to Bhishma, standing next to the King. He gazed at the assembly and then addressed the graduating young men, brimming with energy and enthusiasm. "My sons, today is the most important day of your life. Today you leave your childhood behind and become men. You have completed your training under Guru Drona, and each of you is a tribute to him. Today, Hastinapura, and the whole of India, looks at you with hope. You are the future. Our country has faced many struggles and challenges in the past, but it is the youth who will decide the path India will take. We all stand here with optimism in our hearts. One day, Prince Suyodhana will follow his father as King of our ancient land, and I am sure Drona has inculcated in him the wisdom to take on that great responsibility. All of you will occupy important positions as governors, ministers, military chiefs, administrators, and so on. I know you are at an age that resents listening to advice, but unfortunately I am at an age that relishes giving it."
