Dream - A Karna SI

10. APPREHENSION

Karn – 10 years old

Yudhistira – 7 years

Bhima & Duryodhana – 6 years

Arjun – 5 years

Nakula & Sahdeva – 3 years

Karn's POV

I was jolted when Kunti collapsed to the ground. The Pandavas rushed to their mother, and soon her figure was obscured by the concerned crowd. She must have recognized me. Her eyes, filled with longing and despair, had spoken volumes—an unspoken language of unattainable dreams.

Struck numb by the revelation, I stood rooted to the spot, bewildered. This was never part of my plan. I had always imagined meeting the Pandavas from a place of strength, not like this—seeing them so vulnerable, and in Kunti's presence no less. It was a profoundly emotional moment for them.

I had envisioned myself being indifferent when I finally met the Pandavas, neither antagonizing nor acknowledging them. But seeing these children, who had lost their father and the only home they knew, made indifference impossible. I felt an overwhelming urge to console them.

Bhima, in particular, caught my attention. He seemed peculiarly subdued, as if he was not in his natural state. He should be free like the wind, his presence a force to be reckoned with.

The situation became unbearable for me, so I moved toward the nearby rivulet to wash my body. Standing waist-deep in the cool waters, I tried to gather my thoughts. I resolved to meet the Pandavas as any decent human being should. Only Kunti and I knew the truth of my origins. There was no need to complicate matters unnecessarily. Revealing my identity now would only add more confusion and unwanted changes to my future.

As I returned to the ashram, the scene that greeted me was heart-wrenching. The guest Rishis and the Pandavas along with Kunti were sitting in front of Rishi Asti. I paused, hidden from view, and overheard Rishi Asti's soothing voice as he consoled Kunti and the Pandavas. Yudhishthira, with a gravity beyond his years, tried to shoulder the burden of their sorrow, his young face etched with determination. Bhima and Arjun seemed lost, their usually bright eyes dull with confusion and grief. The twins, Nakula and Sahadeva, wore expressions of deep melancholy, clinging to each other for comfort.

Kunti's eyes, red-rimmed with tears, flickered in my direction. For a moment, our gazes locked, and her despair seemed to deepen. Summoning my courage, I stepped forward, walking towards her with a respectful bow.

"Pranam Rajmahishi," I began, my voice steady despite the turmoil within me. "I am Karn, son of Suta Adhiratha of Hastinapur."

Kunti's expression shifted to one of profound sorrow and recognition, her composure faltering. Rishi Asti, spoke up with a note of pride, "Karn is one of our finest warriors in training. His skill and dedication are unparalleled."

Kunti, her voice trembling but tender, addressed me, "Putra, please sit by me."

Her use of the word "Putra" struck me deeply, a term of endearment that resonated with a complex blend of pain and affection. I obeyed, sitting close to her, feeling the weight of unspoken truths and the tangled threads of destiny that bound us together.

The conversation flowed around me as Rishi Asti and the other sages eulogized Pandu, speaking of his virtues and lamenting his untimely death. I sat there quietly, letting their words wash over me. Bhima and Arjun, their young faces filled with curiosity, kept glancing in my direction. I offered them a thin smile, hoping to convey some measure of comfort.

The guest rishis discussed their plans to continue towards Hastinapur, intending to hand over the Pandavas to the Kauravas. The journey was estimated to take fifteen to twenty days. They planned to resume their travels early the next morning.

Suddenly, Rishi Asti spoke up, breaking the flow of the conversation. "If the esteemed rishis don't mind, I suggest that you take young Karn along with you on this journey. He will provide the needed security from wild animals and serve as a companion to the children."

I was taken aback, stunned by the unexpected proposal. I had intended to interact with the Pandavas briefly, not accompany them on a journey lasting over two weeks. I looked towards Rishi Asti, who smiled at me with a knowing look, as if he held some secret and was offering me assistance.

The other rishis readily agreed to the suggestion. I turned my gaze to Kunti, her face etched with desperation, and then to Bhima and Arjun, whose eyes shone with hope. Seeing their expressions, I relented. "As you command, Maharishi," I said, folding my hands in acceptance.

Rishi Asti then ordered all of us brahmacharis to make arrangements for the guests' sleeping quarters. I joined the others, realizing that this brief interaction would suffice for today. We would have an early start tomorrow, and it seemed wise to leave emotional matters for the journey. I also needed time to prepare for the trip and to steady my emotions, which were currently in turmoil.

As I worked alongside the other brahmacharis, my mind raced. The weight of what lay ahead pressed heavily on me. The chance to spend time with the Pandavas and Kunti was both a burden and a blessing. It was an opportunity to connect with my half-brothers and mother, but also a test of my resolve and self-control.

Later that night, as I gathered my belongings and made preparations for the journey, I tried to calm my racing thoughts. Tomorrow, we would set out together.