Dream - A Karna SI

47. INTERLUDE - SILENCE

Karn - 43 years

Yudhisthir - 40 years

Bheema & Duryodhan - 39 years

Arjun - 38 years

Nakul & Sahadev - 36 years

Abhimanyu - 16 years

Kurukshetra, End of Night War on Day 6

The most brutal day of the war had ended. Jayadrath, king of Sindhu, lay dead. The great Dronacharya had fallen, alongside many sons of Dhritarashtra, Bahliks, Rakshasraj Alumbush, and countless others. Yet the Pandavs were not left unscathed. Ghatotkacha, son of the mighty Bheem, lay slain. Sons of the indomitable Satyaki, brothers of Dhristadyumn and Shikhandi, King Virat-they too had perished. The Narayanastra had added to everyone's misery.

It was impossible to say who had won or lost. The air was thick with mourning, the cries of the wounded mingling with the somber silence of grief.

Karn stood quietly among the Pandavs as Bheem knelt, tears streaming down his rugged face, lamenting his son's untimely death.

"I didn't even spend enough time with him," Bheem's voice was raw, cracking with pain. "He was such a dutiful son. Came to assist me, and I... I couldn't protect him."

The Pandavs moved to console their brother, but there were no words that could stem the anguish that washed over him. The entire camp seemed to buckle under the weight of the day's devastating loss. Even the reverential looks towards Karn were muted, as if in acknowledgment that the deaths had been too many, too costly, even with another Kaurav general slain by his hand.

Arjun has expressed his vehement loathing for Dhritadyumn for his abhorrent act, hidden within was his hidden anger towards Karn for causing the loss of his beloved teacher. They had nearly come to blows.

Karn, weary beyond measure, took a seat on the side, letting his mind drift into a fatigued stupor. The battles of the day echoed in his thoughts-blades clashing, cries of the dying, the weight of every life taken. When he opened his eyes, he found Bheem sitting beside him, his massive form hunched with grief.

The other Pandavs were clustered around Yudhisthir, already engaged in the grim task of strategizing for the next day's battle. But here, in this quiet corner, it was just Karn and Bheem.

Bheem spoke, his voice a low rumble of pain. "They don't mourn Ghatotkach as deeply as I do."

Karn's heart tightened at the rawness of Bheem's grief. "I know, Brother."

"It's not because he wasn't their son," Bheem continued, his voice trembling with sorrow and bitterness. "It's because he was a rakshasa. They saw him as less. All of them were always cold to my marriage with Hidimba."

Karn, feeling the weight of his brother's sorrow, reached out, encircling Bheem in a half-embrace. "That too, I know. Few have the capacity to love so boundlessly as you."

For a moment, the two of them sat in silence, bound by a shared understanding of loss and love.

After a pause, Bheem's voice came again, quieter now. "You must end the threat of Ashwatthama, Karn. Arjun... he would be useless against him. He loves Guru Dron too much to harm his son."

Karn gazed at Bheem, the weariness in his own soul reflected in Bheem's eyes. "Then you must promise me something as well, Bheem. You must kill Duryodhan as soon as you can. No more indulging in your anger, no more fighting for your pride. Fight to end this war, Brother. We cannot bear more nights like this."

The words hung like an unspoken vow between them. Bheem nodded.

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