Dream - A Karna SI

DETERMINATION

This new life felt like an extraordinary adventure. Living in one of the grandest stories ever told, where gods walked among humans, was nothing short of exhilarating. Everything around me was so unique and pure. I cherished every moment, feeling deeply indebted to my current parents, Radha and Adhiratha, who put in so much effort to help me grow. He recalled a recent conversation with his parents.

"Vasu! What is this name Karn I keep hearing about? Don't you like your name, Vasusen?" Radha was perplexed. She had never heard of a child choosing his own name. Names were given by others, weren't they?

"Vasusen is pretentious, Mother. We don't have much money. Why have a name like that? Karn is better, and it's certainly better than Kaanu." Karn was determined to keep his chosen name, and no amount of motherly love would dissuade him.

"Do the other children mock you for your kundals? Vasu, you shouldn't mind them. The kundals make you look quite fetching," Radha tried to console her son. She worried that the other children were bullying him. Vasu was wise beyond his years, and naturally, his acquaintances were much older than him.

"Don't worry, Mother. It's not because of bullying. I am quite fond of the name Karn, and I want to keep it," the child insisted.

"As you wish, Karn," Radha relented. While Vasu was a very obedient child, he was also stubborn as a mule. Once he made up his mind, it was almost impossible to change it.

When Adhiratha arranged for martial training with his acquaintances, I was pleasantly surprised. Determined to extract every bit of knowledge from my instructors, I absorbed everything they taught. To test my understanding, I taught and debated with others, applying the principle that if you can't explain it to a five-year-old, you don't truly know it. While others saw my efforts as generosity, it was actually a way for me to solidify my own knowledge.

However, not everything was ideal. The society I found myself in was archaic. There was no pen and paper; everything had to be memorized or written on clay tablets, which were messy and impractical, especially with the frequent monsoons rendering them useless. The societal hierarchy was rigid, with people strictly adhering to their designated roles. While the general populace didn't actively prevent anyone from deviating from their family business, they engaged in casual mocking and believed that stepping outside one's familial expertise was destined for failure, like birds trying to learn to swim. A potter was expected to make pottery; if he aspired to be a cook, he was laughed at. Though this seemed harmless and trivial, the stories of curses by angry sages and Brahmins were unsettling. I had heard enough horror stories from my acquaintances and from my knowledge of the Mahabharata to not want to take any chances.

I had always dreamed of meeting the legendary figures of this epic. Encountering Bhishma in this life was a mixed experience for me. As he inspected the horses and chariots, Bhishma presented a striking figure, straight as an arrow and moving with the effortless grace of an elephant.

Adhiratha and I both bowed to Bhishma. "Adhiratha, what is the circulation time for the wheels of the royal chariots?" Bhishma's questions were penetrating; nothing escaped his scrutiny.

"Three months, Dev!" Adhiratha replied politely.

"And the spokes and the pedestal?" Bhishma continued.

"At the same interval, Dev!" Adhiratha responded.

As Bhishma moved, his fingers brushed the chariots. "Make sure to do a thorough inspection after every heavy rain as well."

"As Dev commands," Adhiratha answered.

I could no longer contain my curiosity and asked, "Dev, is it true that in your childhood you could stop the flow of the Ganga with your arrows?"

For the first time, Bhishma looked directly at me. "Whatever I am able to do, it is because of the teachings of my Guru."

"Can you teach me, please?" The words escaped my mouth without hesitation.

"Child, I am not proficient enough to teach you chariot driving. Your father is better suited for that," Bhishma said with an innocent smile.

I realized my mistake. Bhishma was not the Bhishma Pitamah of the stories for me. He was not the kind, gentle great-grandfather who doted on his great-grandchildren. He was the Senapati of the Kuru army, the mightiest warrior of his era, who killed thousands of non-Kuru warriors daily during the Mahabharata war. He embodied every tradition and thought of the old era. And I was merely the son of a charioteer, expected to think no further than running chariots.

I recognized that seeking guidance from these legendary figures would inevitably entrap me within the same constraints that had defined the original Karn's mindset. However, I had no intention of conforming to such limitations. This was the final epoch of magical heroes, and I was determined to forge my own path, embracing every fragment of magic and myth available to me. Even the formidable Bhishma and his contemporaries would wield no influence over my destiny, for I was Karn, the twice-born, resolute in charting my unique course through this extraordinary era.

I would shape my own destiny, seizing the opportunities this life presented, and endeavor to become a hero remembered not for his tragedies but for his triumphs. Though the world might not recognize my greatness, I would ensure that my legacy was one of honor, courage, and unwavering determination.