Dream - A Karna SI

9. INTERLUDE - KUNTI

Karn – 10 years old

Yudhistira – 7 years

Bhima & Duryodhana – 6 years

Arjun – 5 years

Nakula & Sahdeva – 3 years

Kunti's POV

Sometimes, Kunti felt her life was a never-ending journey, devoid of any true place to call home. From birth, she was given to Kuntibhoja because of a promise her father made. Even Mathura, the city of her birth, didn't feel like home. The residents seemed like distant relatives rather than close kin, and the oppressive rule of Kansa, with many of her family members living under his thumb or imprisoned, only added to her sense of isolation.

At Kuntibhoja's home, Kunti was never able to fully assimilate. A lingering sense of otherness pervaded every aspect of her life there. The arrival of Sage Durvasa offered a brief respite. She immersed herself in his service, attending to the arrangements for his agnihotra (fire ritual), food, and clothing. Despite his notorious irritability and the constant threat of his curses, she remained diligently focused on ensuring the rishi lacked nothing.

Kunti never sought the boon to summon gods to father her children. Did the sage foresee her future and give her the boon in preparation? Summoning Surya had been a momentary lapse in judgment, born out of curiosity and the loneliness of having no close companions. The seclusion she endured during the birth of her firstborn only deepened her sense of alienation. Sending her son down the river was like tearing a part of her soul away, leaving a gaping hole in her heart.

After the birth of her child, Kuntibhoja seemed eager to arrange her marriage. As soon as she regained her health, her swayamvar was announced. She was mortified and frightened at the prospect of marriage and the groom's reaction to her dalliance. Hence, when Pandu was announced, she thought that the kingdom of Hastinapur would be understanding, owing to the niyog practice for the birth of Dhritrashtra, Pandu, and Vidur. Thus, she chose Pandu.

Coming to Hastinapur again reverberated the same sense of traveling from one place to another. Everybody was welcoming, and Kunti was just beginning to feel settled when Bhishma brought Madri as a second wife for Pandu, paying a bride price. Paying for a bride was not new but was a dying tradition and looked down upon by society.

The situation became more complicated because Madri was chosen within a month of Kunti's marriage to Pandu. People started gossiping that Kunti must have some flaw that the Kuru elders had to arrange such a hasty marriage for Pandu, and that too by paying a bride price. It didn't help that Madri was prettier than Kunti, and Pandu also seemed to think so.

This made Kunti feel like a stranger in Hastinapur once again, and she longed to escape. So, when Pandu expressed his desire to live in the forests, Kunti readily agreed, hoping to find reprieve from the gossipers of the city.

The forest was never truly a home, and they kept moving from one place to another. After the curse of the Kindim rishi, Kunti's family moved beyond Gandhamadan Parvat and tried to stay in one place for a while.

In those hills, Kunti experienced a true sense of freedom for the first time. There was solitude and only nature. The birth of her sons provided a balm to her soul. Seeing them grow brought a deep sense of satisfaction, healing the wound left by her firstborn.

Now she had to care for her two stepsons—no, her sons. Kunti would not abandon the toddlers. She would love them as her own, just as her first son must have been loved by some unknown mother. Kunti had to believe that for her sanity. She could not bear the thought of any harm befalling her firstborn because she was not there to protect him.

As she journeyed to Hastinapur with her young sons and the ashes of their father, Kunti felt the weight of her sorrow and duty more than ever. The ashram provided a brief sanctuary, but the pain of loss and the uncertainty of their future loomed large. The children's innocent eyes, wide with curiosity and awe at the world around them, were a poignant reminder of the burdens she bore alone. Yudhishthira was trying to be brave and carry himself as the elder of the family, but he was too young and sheltered to know the ways of the world.

She watched them interact with the other brahmacharis, their presence a bittersweet balm to her wounded heart. And then she saw him.

He stood out like a king among his subjects. She could see that he had been engaged in a mock melee among his peers by the way his opponents were sitting or lying on the ground.

His presence was like the sun among clouds. With his complexion like beaten gold and a full, strong body, he already looked like a warrior. He was her son, her firstborn. The golden kundals hanging from his ears confirmed what Kunti had no need of confirming. She could see the resemblance in his eyes, which were the same shape as Bhima's, and the upturn of his mouth, which he had inherited from her.

Kunti wanted to run and envelop her firstborn in her arms and never let him go. He was so near and yet so far. If only she had met him beyond Gandhamadan and had some time. She would have convinced Pandu to accept him. Or she would have left everyone and remained in the hills with her sons. With nobody to bother them, the rishis would not have had issues with her sons, born before or after her marriage. However, now, NOW!

Kunti could not control herself. If the nearby rishis hadn't held her, she might have fallen along with Sahadeva. Still, she had to sit down on the floor. The children rushed towards her.

Oh, destiny! You are so benevolent and cruel at the same time.