Dream - A Karna SI

26. WRESTLE

7 years after Draupadi's swyamvar

Karn - 28 years

Yudhisthir - 25 years

Bhima & Duryodhan - 24 years

Arjun - 23 years

Nakul & Sahadev - 21 years

Abhimanyu - 1 years

(At Magadh, inside Jarasandh's waiting room)

Karn's POV

We were deep within the heart of Jarasandh's fortress, sitting in the waiting room, disguised as humble Brahmacharis. Thanks to Krishna's foresight, we had managed to gain entry without raising suspicion. But now, as the moment of confrontation approached, the air grew thick with tension.

Jarasandh, the formidable King of Magadh, was expected to grant us an audience before sunrise. The early morning hours crept by, each minute feeling like an eternity. We sat in silence, our minds focused on the task ahead, until finally, the doors creaked open.

He entered with minimal pomp-no grand fanfare, no elaborate rituals. This was a king who needed no such displays; his very presence was commanding enough. Jarasandh was a mountain of a man, built of sheer muscle and battle-hardened sinew. Scars crisscrossed his body, each one a testament to his countless victories. His salt-and-pepper hair gave him an aura of seasoned power, and his eyes-those burning embers-seemed to challenge anyone foolish enough to meet his gaze.

"Brahmacharis," his voice was deep, resonating through the chamber like distant thunder, "I have come to grant you the bhiksha you desire. Now, speak-what do you seek? Do you require wealth, land, or hordes of cows, elephants, or horses?"

Krishna, ever the master of words, stepped forward. "O King, we seek not riches, land, or beasts of burden," he declared, his voice as grand as his presence.

Jarasandh's brow furrowed in mild irritation, as if we were wasting his time. "Then what is it you seek, Brahmacharis? Speak plainly."

"We seek what only a true Kshatriya can provide," Krishna's tone was unwavering. "We seek the bhiksha of a dwand-yuddha-a duel."

The room fell into a tense silence. Jarasandh's eyes widened as realization dawned. His sharp gaze scanned each of us, stripping away our Brahmanic facade. "You are not Brahmins," he spat, his voice now laced with contempt. "I should have known. Your muscles are too well-defined, your forearms and fingers bear the callouses of archers and swordsmen. Your bodies carry the marks of past battles."

Jarasandh's expression twisted into an ugly snarl as he turned his gaze to Krishna. "I may not have met you all before, but this trickster," he pointed accusingly at Krishna, "is known to me anywhere."

Krishna met his rage with calm, an unshakeable serenity that seemed to mock the very danger we were in. "Indeed, Rajan," Krishna acknowledged. "I am Krishna. This is Bhima, the slayer of Hidimba and Bakasura." Krishna's calmness was unnerving, as if we were not isolated in the heart of our enemy's stronghold.

He gestured towards Arjun. "This is Arjun, the third Pandava prince, who won the Matsya bhedan at the swayamvar of Draupadi."

Finally, Krishna's hand pointed to me. A strange feeling surged through me as if history was altering in that very moment. "And this," Krishna continued, "is Karn, the slayer of Dimbhaka."

Jarasandh's rage, which had been steadily growing, now zeroed in on me. His eyes blazed with an intense hatred, a personal vendetta igniting in his heart. "You," he hissed, his voice trembling with fury, "are Karn?"

I could see his muscles tense, his fists clenching as if he were already crushing my neck in his grip. His anger was so potent that I could almost feel it radiating off him, his body vibrating with the sheer force of his loathing.