Love Across Time : Mahabharat

One Hundred Fifteen : Karna vs Arjun

~𝓚𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓪 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓐𝓻𝓳𝓾𝓷~

The last embers sputtered and died, casting the Pandava camp into an inky blackness. Arjun sat apart from the slumbering soldiers, his fingers tracing the familiar grooves of his Gandiva. It wasn't just a weapon tonight, but a confidante. Yet, tonight, even Gandiva felt heavy, a constant reminder of a victory that tasted like ash.

His thoughts crashed against the shores of memory. Abhimanyu's face, forever frozen in youth, sent a fresh wave of guilt crashing over him. Perhaps, if he'd ended Jayadratha's life the moment the man dared to sully Aanya's honor... perhaps Abhimanyu's laughter would still echo through the camp. Regret coiled around his heart, tightening its grip with every agonizing 'what-if.'

The memory of his wife's humiliation in Dyutsabha surfaced, a festering wound that refused to heal. Shouldn't he have slain Jayadratha then, in that very instant, when fury burned hottest? Or perhaps on the day the man dared to abduct Draupadi? Each missed opportunity felt like a betrayal, a silent scream echoing in the chambers of his soul.

Kanha's gentle voice broke through the fog of despair. "Partha," he called, his voice as calm as the twilight settling over the encampment.

Arjun looked up, his gaze heavy with sorrow. He rose and met Kanha's eyes with a grimace. "Madhav," he rasped, his voice hoarse with unshed tears. "Why does it feel like victory is a pyre built on ashes?"

Kanha offered a sad smile. "War's burden, Partha," he said softly, "is a weight shared by all. You grieve not alone."

He placed a comforting hand on Arjun's shoulder. "Rest now," he urged. "Tomorrow will be your true test."

Arjun furrowed his brow, confusion battling with the weariness etched on his face. "True test?" he echoed.

Kanha's gaze turned steely. "Tomorrow, you face Angraj Karna. He will come to the battlefield with one purpose only, to defeat you."

A flicker of defiance sparked in Arjun's eyes. He straightened his shoulders. "I do not fear facing Angraj, Madhav," he declared, his voice regaining some of its former strength.

But Kanha saw the tremor in his hands, the hollowness in his eyes. "Fear is not your enemy today, Partha," he said gently. "It is the burden of the past, the weight of what could have been."

Arjun closed his eyes, the weight of Kanha's words settling on him like a shroud. He spoke softly, his voice laced with a desperate hope. "Madhav," he pleaded, "promise me this, no interventions from your side tomorrow. Let it be a battle of skill, of strength, not of deceit."

A faint smile touched Kanha's lips. "This war, Partha," he said, "has always been a dance between dharma and deceit. But your wish shall be granted. Tomorrow, you face Angraj as a warrior. His arrows will be fueled by a lifetime of penance, each one aimed with deadly precision."

He looked at Arjun with unwavering faith. "Tomorrow, victory grants dominion. Defeat, eternal respect. It will be a battle not just of strength, but of spirit, of resilience in the face of insurmountable odds."

Arjun felt a surge of determination course through him. The guilt remained, a dull ache in his chest, but it was overshadowed by a renewed sense of purpose. "Tomorrow," he declared, his voice firm, "we fight not just for victory, but for the truth. The world will see that a warrior's worth is not measured by the circumstances of his birth, but by the strength of his resolve."

Kanha placed his hand on Arjun's once again, the touch a silent promise of support. As the night deepened, the embers of a warrior's spirit rekindled within Arjun. He knew the battle tomorrow would be a crucible, testing not just his physical prowess, but the very core of his being.