Mahabharat - The Changed Fate

Chapter 4 : Hastinapur

KUNTI'S POV:

The weight of guilt has not lightened over these past twenty-odd years. It sits on my heart like a stone—heavy, unmoving, and constant. When people praise me for raising my five sons, the sons I did not birth but adopted as my own, I nod politely, smile, and bow my head. But deep down, I feel undeserving. How can I be proud when I have sent away my firstborn, my Karna, floating him away on the currents of the Ganga as though he were nothing more than a mere burden?

How can I call myself a mother when I abandoned my own child?

The praise stings more than it soothes. Every time I hear someone speak of my devotion as a mother, my mind drifts back to that fateful day—my firstborn, wrapped in a cloth, helpless and innocent, staring at me with wide eyes that seemed to plead for answers I could not give. I see his small, fragile body being carried away by the river, his cries lost to the sound of rushing water.

And then I remember the moment I summoned Surya Dev. I was young, curious, and perhaps reckless. The boon given by Durvasa Rishi had seemed like a gift at the time, a way to glimpse the power of the gods. But when I invoked Surya Dev and was blessed with Karna, I had no plan. No way to keep him. Society's harsh judgment of a woman with a child outside of wedlock loomed large over me, and I chose fear over love. I chose my reputation over my child.

I wonder where Karna is now. Is he alive? Is he well? Does he know who he is, or does he live a life of anonymity? Perhaps he is a commoner, toiling away in obscurity, or perhaps fate has made him something greater. Either way, I know nothing of him, and the thought drives me to despair. Not knowing gnaws at me day and night. Is he happy? Did he have a childhood filled with love and warmth, something I denied him?

But what right do I have to know? What right do I have to seek him out when I did not have the courage to keep him?

Tomorrow is the Kala Pradarshan—a grand display of martial skill arranged by Guru Drona. My five sons will participate, and it will be the first time they will compete in such an event against their cousins, the Kauravas. Guru Drona has invited all the royal families of Aryavarth, and the competition is sure to be fierce. I cannot help but feel uneasy about the contest. What was meant to be a friendly display of skill could easily turn into a battle of egos, with the fragile unity between the Pandavas and the Kauravas at stake.

I have heard Bhishma Pitamah speaking about the event, and even he seems concerned. He knows the tensions simmering between my sons and Duryodhana, and so do I. Duryodhana's jealousy toward Yudhishthira, Bhima, and especially Arjuna has been growing for years. And Arjuna—my talented, sharp Arjuna—does not back down from a challenge. His pride is his strength, but I fear it will also be his downfall.

But even as my thoughts dwell on my five sons, my heart cannot stop searching for my sixth—my first.

Where is my Karna? Does he even remember me?

BHISHMA'S POV:

I stood on the terrace of the Hastinapur palace, the wind ruffling my silver hair as I looked out over the sprawling city below. It was a sight I had seen countless times over the years, yet today it felt different. Tomorrow was the Kala Pradarshan, an event that could change the course of history. Guru Drona's contest between the Kuru princes would not be a simple display of skills—it was a battlefield disguised as a tournament, where rivalries would be laid bare and ambitions would clash.

The fragile peace between the Pandavas and Kauravas could shatter with a single blow.

As I mused on these thoughts, my mind wandered to the letter I had received from my dear friend in Mithila. She had written with such warmth, her words filled with wisdom and kindness. Over the years, I had gained many acquaintances, but friends were few. This woman, however, was one of the few souls I could truly call a friend, someone who understood the burden of leadership and the loneliness that came with it.