Dream - A Karna SI

27. RAJSUYA

Karn - 30 years

Yudhisthir - 27 years

Bhima & Duryodhan - 26 years

Arjun - 25 years

Nakul & Sahadev - 23 years

Abhimanyu - 3 years

Karn's POV

Indraprastha was alive with energy, transformed into a vibrant carnival for the grand Rajsuya Yajna of Samrat Yudhisthir. People from all walks of life had poured into the city over the past few months-mighty kings from the farthest reaches of Bharat, skilled artisans, traveling merchants, wandering rishis, and learned vedpathi brahmins. The city was a mosaic of cultures, a gathering that had not been seen in centuries. It was a spectacle, made even more remarkable by the fact that such a grand event was being held so soon after Yudhisthir's coronation. The Pandavas had conquered Bharat with their valor, and now the world had come to witness their triumph.

The Kurus had arrived early, taking charge of organizing the event. Krishn, in his humility, had chosen to wash the feet of the rishis and brahmins, a gesture that spoke volumes of his wisdom and devotion. I, on the other hand, had requested to oversee the brigades accompanying the various kings-their chariots, men, and beasts.

Yudhisthir had initially wanted me to welcome the kings alongside Nakul, believing that a warrior who had slain the likes of Jarasandh and Dimbhak should greet his peers. But Krishn had advised otherwise, saying that my choice to manage the logistics of the armies was more fitting for a warrior of my experience.

"Killer of Jarasandh," they called me, but the title felt hollow. It was a fight that still haunted me, a battle that could have ended differently. Yet, myths had already begun to grow around that encounter. Bards from my own suta caste sang songs of my triumph, likening the fight to an elephant crushing a dog. To them, I was a role model-a warrior mightier than the Kshatriyas, yet denied kingship because of my caste. Some of my relatives urged me to seize a kingdom, to fulfill what they saw as my destiny. They couldn't understand that I had no desire for a throne; I was content with my lot. They thought I was wasting my potential, and I can only laugh at their naivety.

As I worked alongside other sevaks, I found the experience enlightening. The arrogance of royalty was more apparent in their companions, who often displayed more ego than the kings themselves. They looked down upon common people, seeing them as mere dirt beneath their feet. It was no wonder that the masses harbored resentment toward royalty, eager to topple them even if they were just and virtuous like the Pandavas.

Despite these frustrations, I achieved what I set out to do. By managing the arrival of these kings and their retinues, I gained valuable insight into the condition and composition of armies from across the country.

The horses from Gandhar were unmatched, strong and stocky with a tall, imposing build. The elephants from Manipur and the Chola and Pandya kingdoms were superior, powerful beasts that could turn the tide of battle. The bows from the Himalayan regions were sturdy and required a heavy draw, while the swords, spears, and arrowheads from Magadh were of the finest quality. The kavachs of the Panchal and Yadav warriors were crafted with expert precision. The Trigartas had the most disciplined soldiers, while the chariots of Chedi and Vidarbha were models of excellence.

However, a pattern emerged as I observed these armies. The charioteer was the cornerstone of every army, with all other divisions designed to support and protect him. Kings and warriors sometimes chose to ride elephants in battle, but this was a matter of personal choice rather than strategic necessity. The western kingdoms, well-suited for cavalry, still saw their foremost warrior, Bhagadatta, prefer elephants and maintained an elephant division. The central kingdoms, ideal for chariot warfare, often relied on infantry with maces instead.