Dream - A Karna SI

31. REVELATION

Karn - 30 years

Yudhisthir - 27 years

Bhima & Duryodhan - 26 years

Arjun - 25 years

Nakul & Sahadev - 23 years

Abhimanyu - 3 years

(Hastinapur)

Karn's POV

I was preparing for my departure, from Hastinapur. My mother wept inconsolably, her wails echoing in the walls of our humble home. My family surrounded me, their faces etched with sorrow and anger. The injustice of my punishment was a wound that bled in every corner of our community. Even the soldiers sent to enforce my exile shifted uncomfortably, their eyes betraying the unease they felt in siding with such adharma.

I consoled my family; my voice firm and I took leave from them all. Mounting our horses, we began to ride away, the villagers gathering at the edges of the path, shouting words of encouragement, their voices a balm to my spirit. They hailed me as I passed, as if I have won a great victory over the Kshtriyas.

We had just crossed the boundary of our village, the familiar sights slowly fading behind us, when the sharp, clear sound of a conch resonated in the air. It was a sound that commanded attention, one that could not be ignored. I signalled the soldiers to halt, and we turned to see a chariot approaching from the distance. The silhouette atop it was unmistakable-Kunti.

We waited in silence as the chariot drew near. When she finally arrived, I dismounted and bowed deeply.

"Rajmata!" I greeted her with reverence.

"Karna! Thanks to Mahadev, I caught you before your departure," Kunti's voice trembled with emotion as she leaned on my arm to disembark from the chariot.

"You could have summoned me, Rajmata. There was no need for you to endure this journey," I said, concern lacing my words.

"Meeting you is no burden, Karna. Your presence brings me immense joy," Kunti replied, her grip on my arm tightening as if she feared letting go.

We moved away from the path, seeking the cool shade of a cluster of trees. Kunti's charioteer, Indrasen, discreetly spoke to the soldiers, ensuring we had privacy.

"I am sorry, Rajmata. I failed to prevent the travesty that unfolded yesterday," I began, my voice thick with regret.

"Sorry? Why should you be sorry, Karna? Those who turned a blind eye to dharma should be sorry. Those who allowed the dignity of the Kuru dynasty to be desecrated so openly are the ones who should hang their heads in shame," Kunti's voice was steely, the fire of a warrior's resolve burning brightly in her eyes.

She continued, "You, on the other hand, should be proud-proud of what you have accomplished. You singlehandedly saved the Kuru dynasty from further disgrace."

"Rajmata, I did only what was right, as taught by Bhagwan Krishn. He came to me in my moment of despair and guided me. I was but a vessel for his will," I explained, trying to deflect the praise she heaped upon me.

"Karna, you may not realize the magnitude of your actions, but history will remember your courage and your unwavering adherence to dharma. In that cursed sabha, not a single kshatriya stood up-except you."

I tried to lighten the mood, saying, "But I am only a suta putra, Rajmata. Do not be too harsh on your sons. They were confused and ensnared by shrewd enemies."

"Oh, Karna! The fault is mine. If only I had the courage that day at Gandhamadan, when I saw you! If I had been a true kshatrani, none of this would have befallen us. You could have been a great emperor, and we all would have found safety under your protection." Kunti's voice broke as she began to weep, her guilt pouring out in waves.

I stepped forward and gently embraced her, holding her as if she were a fragile bird. "I would have made a lousy king, Mata. My heart is too restless for the intricacies of governance. My spirit longs for adventure and battle, not the confines of a throne."

Kunti's eyes widened, a mixture of shock and realization dawning upon her. "Karna... you knew?"

"My guru is Bhagwan Surya, Mata. Do you think I would not have known?" I said softly, looking into her tear-filled eyes with all the love I had kept hidden for so long.

"Forgive me, Karna. I have wronged you. I am your culprit," Kunti broke down completely, her body trembling with the weight of her remorse.

"You are not to blame, Mata. We are all prisoners of our fate at times," I whispered, holding her as if my embrace could shield her from the pain of the past.

After a moment, Kunti gathered herself and asked, "Do you not blame me, Karna? I have caused you so much hardship. You have endured hatred and ridicule daily, punished for no fault of your own. If only I had claimed you as my son, you could have shone like the diamond you are."

"At first, I was angry, Mata. I wanted to hurt you, to make you feel the pain I carried. So many times I planned to go to kuru rajyasabha and shout out my parentage for everyone to hear. I thought that will force you to except me and give me my due." I began, and I saw Kunti's eyes well up again. I continued, bringing her closer, "But then I learned of your life-how difficult it was for you. I understood the sacrifices you made."

Kunti looked up at me, her eyes wide with surprise, and I smiled gently.

"You were just a girl when you had me, and then you had to marry. Barely had you adjusted to married life when you had to contend with a second wife within a month of your marriage. Then came the years of exile in the forest, the burden of raising your other children, and the grief of widowhood. You were dragged into the politics of Hastinapur, and when you thought you could finally breathe, you were thrust into another calamity. Through all this, whenever you could, you bestowed your love upon me," I spoke with a tenderness that came from the deepest part of my heart.

"When I understood all this, my anger melted away. I realized that your life has been one of duty, Mata. You have become my inspiration. Please, do not feel guilty. Your son is strong enough to bear these burdens and the petty ridicule of others."

Kunti's tears fell freely again. "No more, Karna. I cannot keep this secret any longer. I will reveal the truth today. You are worthy in every way. I will go to Yudhishthira and have you crowned as the rightful heir."

"And that, Mata, would be wrong," I said gently, shaking my head. "I am not meant to be a king. Yudhishthira is the best among us to rule. He is bound by dharma and duty. Yes, he sometimes overthinks, but once he finds his path, nothing can sway him. He is brave and deserving of the throne. I am a warrior, not a ruler. The intricacies of government do not concern me."

I paused, thinking of the inevitable consequences. "If you reveal the truth, the Kauravas will say that I have ensnared you in a plot to claim Indraprastha. They will accuse me of treachery, and call you names. I have kept my composure when they insulted me and Lord Krishn but I will not be able to keep my calm if they insult you. Let this son of yours remain a suta-putra, Mata. I will always be at your service, ready to follow your command. Now is not the time for division. You have a great task ahead-to awaken the kshatriya spirit in my brothers. They must be disheartened and ashamed after the events that transpired. Only you can ignite the righteous anger within them and propel them toward action."

We both stood up, and Kunti looked at me with a deep, maternal pride. "You are a true kshatriya, my son. In you, we all find shelter. You are so much like your father. The sun burns itself to light the world, and you, my son, burn yourself to save others."

As she finished speaking, I noticed a messenger approaching on horseback. He dismounted and hurried toward us, bowing deeply before delivering his message. At Kunti's urging, he spoke, his voice laced with urgency.

"Rajmata, Samrat Yudhishthira has sent for you. He urges you to return to Hastinapur immediately. There has been a second game of dice... and Samrat has lost again. The Pandavas must now go into exile for twelve years, followed by a year of living in disguise."