despair of losing a son - karna's hatred

THE AFTERMATH : SHADOWS OVER HASTINAPUR

It had been a week since the revelations at the palace left everyone shaken. A week since the fragile peace between the royal families of Hastinapur was shattered, casting a long shadow over the once harmonious halls. Everyone, from the lowest servant to the highest noble, seemed on edge, wary of what might unfold next. The serenity that had enveloped the grand corridors of the palace was gone, replaced by a simmering unease that lingered in the air like a ghost.

Arjun, ever the disciplined warrior, was spending every waking moment at the palace training grounds, drowning himself in relentless practice. The once melodious sound of his bowstring now seemed harsh and angry, a mirror of the turmoil within his soul. His arrows flew fast, one after another, striking the target with brutal precision, but none of them brought him peace.

The guilt weighed on him like a yoke around his neck, tightening with every breath. He couldn't forget. He didn't want to forget. The images kept replaying in his mind-his reckless fury, his failure to see the truth, and, worst of all, the lives he had taken in his blind rage.

Arjun's Thoughts (in turmoil):

"How could I, the son of Indra, the greatest archer, commit such a grave sin? How did I let my senses deceive me? How did I, in my arrogance, not see the innocence behind those pleading eyes?"

But a darker voice echoed back within him-a voice that mocked him, taunted him relentlessly:

"You've always been a fool, Arjun. You saw Karna as your greatest competition, the one to surpass. And yet, when you had a chance to show your true valor, you didn't face him in open combat. You failed. And in your desperation, you killed a woman and her child-the very you swore to protect. What kind of hero are you now?"

The words cut deeper than any arrow ever could. He loosed another arrow, the muscles in his arms screaming in protest. But no matter how many arrows he shot, he couldn't silence that voice.

In the distance, two figures watched him intently. Gangaputra Bhishma and Vidura, the prime minister of Hastinapur, stood in silent observation, their hearts heavy with concern. Arjun's anguish was clear for all to see, but neither knew how to reach him.

Vidura, always the perceptive one, looked up at Bhishma, his brows furrowed.

"He's suffering, Pitamah. What happened between the queens and the Pandavas has shattered his sense of self. The great Arjun is breaking, and if he breaks... I fear for what it will mean for Hastinapur."

Bhishma's stern face was lined with worry. He had seen many warriors fall into despair, but never like this. Arjun, the pride of the Kuru dynasty, had always been unwavering, unshakeable. But now? Now he was a shadow of the hero they all knew.

"We misjudged the impact of these revelations, Vidura. We thought that the fallout would be contained, but it has spiraled out of control," Bhishma murmured. He paused, his gaze drifting back to Arjun's trembling form. "And worse still, this has exposed just how deeply tied Duryodhan's fate was to Karna's. When Karna abandoned his kingship, we thought it was due to the pressures of governance. But now we know it was something much deeper, much more personal."

A bitter memory surged in Bhishma's mind. Years ago, he and Vidura had been the instruments of a terrible punishment -one that had forever changed the course of Karna's life. When Shon, Karna's younger brother, had been accused of reciting the Vedas, the Brahmins had demanded retribution. The son of a sut-a charioteer-had no right to such knowledge, they claimed. The punishment was swift and brutal. Molten gold had been poured into Shon's mouth, silencing his voice forever. He had been just a child.

"We killed a boy's spirit that day," Bhishma thought grimly. "And in doing so, we created a warrior who would one day stand against everything we thought we stood for."