In the dimly lit chamber, the frail figure of a woman, draped in a pristine white saree, sat with a serene smile etched upon her wrinkled face. Her eyes, pools of wisdom and sorrow, were fixated upon a delicate lotus bloom in a vase nearby. The room was heavy with an atmosphere of melancholy, as if the very air held the weight of a lifetime of regrets.
As she lost herself in her thoughts, a sudden, enchanting voice pierced through the silence, making her fragile form startle. She turned to see a young man, her nephew Krishna, standing there. His presence was a beacon of solace in this world of shadows .
Krishna moved closer and sat beside her, his presence offering a silent reassurance. The chamber seemed to hold its breath, as if time itself had stopped, waiting for the words that were about to be spoken.
Then, in a voice trembling with grief, Kunti whispered, "I betrayed him, haven't I, Krishna? I didn't give him anything but pain and suffering throughout his life. Yet, I took his life with my promises ." Her words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of remorse.
Krishna, with a heavy heart, gently took Kunti's trembling hand into his own. His eyes, pools of compassion and understanding, met hers, which were still filled with tears.
"Bua ," he whispered softly, "you carry a burden of regret, but know this – you are not alone in this. Life, in all its complexity, weaves a tapestry of joy and pain for us all. We cannot always control the outcomes of our actions, but we can choose how we carry the weight of our past ."
Kunti's voice quivered with anguish as she confessed
"Please, Krishna, don't defend me. I once callously abandoned an innocent infant, casting him into the river without a word. I watched in silence as he faced humiliation and suffering along with countless others ."
She continued, her voice trembling with the weight of her confession, "You know when I asked him not to kill my sons, he didn't curse me or scold me or ask how I could make such a request. Instead, he gave me a promise that my five sons would live, and I shamelessly left after securing my sons' lives ."
Krishna spoke with a somber tone, his words carrying the weight of truth. "He was indeed a brave and kind soul, Bua, but destiny placed him on a path where he was not meant to thrive, a path that even his own mother had to tread, leading to his untimely demise ."
Kunti's sobs broke free, echoing through the chamber, but she quickly regained control of her emotions. Her voice trembled with raw longing as she confessed,
"I never dared to claim him as my own when he was near me, but now, with my five sons by my side, my heart aches for him, my eldest son. I yearn to fall at his feet and weep endlessly, to beg for his forgiveness, to confess that I never deserved a son as noble and selfless as him. Oh, Krishna, I just want Karna." Her words were a lament that pierced the very soul, a cry of a mother's heart torn by regret and longing.
Kunti's heart ached as she recalled one of her most precious moments with her firstborn, a moment etched in her memory forever. It was the one and only time she had bestowed her blessings upon him, neither before nor after had he received such a heartfelt benediction from her.
In the grand corridors of the palace, Kunti watched as her eldest son walked with regal grace. He was adorned in resplendent royal attire, a crown resting upon his head, and his tall, imposing figure seemed to touch the heavens. His ears were adorned with exquisite earrings, a divine gift from his father, Surya, the sun god. The brilliance of those earrings, like twin suns, illuminated his face and added to the aura of divinity that surrounded him.
Kunti couldn't help but be in awe of her firstborn's extraordinary presence. He appeared both godlike and achingly human, a blend of celestial grace and earthly nobility that left those who beheld him spellbound.
As she observed him, a mixture of pride and sorrow welled up within her. Pride in the remarkable son she had secretly brought into the world, and sorrow for the years of silence and separation they had endured.
Karna suddenly turned, and his gaze locked onto Kunti. Her heart skipped a beat as she took a step back, caught off guard by his swift reaction. She had underestimated the keen instincts of a skilled archer. How could she have expected him not to notice her presence?
With deliberate grace, Karna began to close the distance between them. Each step he took felt like a drumbeat in Kunti's anxious heart. She could feel the weight of his presence, and it made her nervous, unsure of what he might say or do next.
To her astonishment, Karna bowed respectfully and touched her feet. His words, delivered with a profound sense of duty and respect, carried an unexpected depth.
"I understand, Rajamata," he began, his voice tinged with humility, "that our paths have diverged, and I've stood against your son Arjun. But, regardless, it is my solemn duty to honor and show reverence to my elders ."
She gently caressed his head and bestowed upon him her blessings. However, deep down, she knew that these blessings were mere words, a hollow gesture from a woman who had no rightful claim to bless him. It held no power to change the course of his life. Kunti was well aware of the painful truth - she had once abandoned her own son, callously casting him into the river, all in the name of protecting her own honor and her father's reputation.
A solitary tear escaped her eyes as she reminisced about him, the son she had secretly longed for all her life. In that moment, the only glimmer of hope she held onto was the possibility of reuniting with him in the afterlife, where she could finally seek his forgiveness.
Yet, doubt lingered in the recesses of her mind. Would she even find her way to the heavens, given the weight of her past actions and the complexities of her journey ahead? The uncertainty of her fate gnawed at her, like a shadow that refused to fade.
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This is my first one shot how was it , did you all liked it 😀.....
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