Karna stood bathed, just he, in the golden beam of the sun. Arjuna stood darkling under his father's clouds. And suddenly Kunti realized who the stranger was. She remembered the day when she had floated her firstborn down the river of the past. She remembered the kavacha and kundala he had worn. Blood rushed to her head and Kunti fainted. Vidura called for some salts. He guessed it was the sight of the stranger that had upset her. Kneeling beside her, he held the sharp salts under her nose and her eyes fluttered open.
Vidura was startled when he saw the look on her face. Tears in her voice, she began to blurt out something. But an instinct warned Vidura: Kunti must not say anything in this public place, least of all with Gandhari so near. Placing his hand across her lips, he shook his head, "Rest now, this is not the time to speak."
He helped her sit up and gave her the salts to sniff again. Clasping her pain to her like a serpent's sting, Kunti steadied herself. She said to Gandhari, "I don't know what came over me."
"Are you better now?"
"I am well now." Once more, Kunti began to describe what went on below to the blindfolded queen. Patting her hand, Vidura returned to Dhritarashtra's side. In the arena, Kripa, who was an expert in the etiquette of dueling, had stepped between the two warriors hungry for a fight.
Kripa announced, "Karna, a proper introduction is in order. Here before you, ready for battle, stands Kunti Devi's third son Arjuna the Pandava, of the royal House of Kuru. Now you tell us your own ancestry, young Kshatriya. Who is your father and to which family do you belong? You know that no prince will duel with an adversary of lesser lineage than himself." He smiled, "No more than he will marry a princess from an inferior kingdom."
The crowd laughed. But Karna was crestfallen. His handsome head was bent like a lotus in a storm and his face was red with shame. As far as he knew he was not Arjuna's equal by birth, by a long way. A sigh rose from the crowd and then jeers and catcalls came from the sections loyal to the Pandavas. Arjuna stood haughtily before Karna, a sneer on his lips and another, altogether inexplicable emotion in his heart: one he would feel every time he was face to face with this man. But he would never know, until it was too late, that it was the blood in his body responding to a brother.
Then, like a king cobra uncoiling, Duryodhana sprang up and cried in his deep rough voice, "My lord, the oldest dharma says that kings are of three kinds: those who are born kings, those who become kings by their courage and those who vanquish a king and so become kings themselves. I sub- mit, my lord, that a king of the second sort is not necessarily a kshatriya. Not only kshatriyas are val- iant but other men as well, as they are blessed by God."
A powerful passion was upon Duryodhana; his chest heaved. "Valor is not the birthright of just the kshatriyas. But if Arjuna means to make it a condition that Karna is a king before he fights him, then so be it!"
The crowd had grown silent. Whatever could Duryodhana mean? The dark prince said, "The kingdom of Anga, which is ours, has no king at the moment. We are happy to create our new friend Karna the lord of Anga! Once he is crowned, let Arjuna find no excuse for not fighting such a worthy adversary."
You could hear your own heart beat in that stadium. Karna's head jerked up and his eyes filled with incredulous hope. Duryodhana smiled at him. Then he turned and crossed to the royal enclo- sure, where he stood with his head bowed before Bheeshma and Dhritarashtra, waiting for their approval.
Bheeshma was more proud of his prince than he had ever been. He nodded his head, giving his blessing. Then he put his hands together and applauded Duryodhana's gesture. At which the entire crowd burst into loud cheering, calling out first Duryodhana's name and then Karna's.
When Vidura told Dhritarashtra that Duryodhana stood before him for his approval, the blind king smiled. He raised both his arms and cried, "You have our blessing for your noble deed, my son. Karna deserves to have a kingdom; let him be lord of Anga. The people are eager to watch the contest between Arjuna and him."
A messenger ran hotfoot to the palace. A golden throne was fetched out to the stadium and every- thing else that was needed for a coronation: holy water, grains of rice, incense, flowers, chamaras— silken whisks—and the white parasol that was the emblem of a king of the earth. The court priests were already present. Duryodhana took Karna by the arm and brought him to the dais on which the throne was set. The other Kauravas showered rice-grains and flowers on him, as, with just a glance of hesitation at his new friend, Karna ascended the throne amidst deafening cheers from the crowd.
The priests began to chant the Vedic mantras for a coronation. Water from the ocean and the riv- ers of Bharatavarsha was poured over Karna's head. The white sovereign parasol was raised above him and the crowd was on its feet. Finally Duryodhana set a crown on Karna's head. He pulled his own sword from its sheath and gave it, haft-first, into Karna's hand.
The Kaurava stepped back a pace and said, "Now, mighty Karna, you are king of Anga and Arjuna is just a prince. Let him not refuse to fight you anymore on pain of being known as a coward."
The crowd was breathless. Karna rose in a daze. Choking, he said to Duryodhana, "I am not sure that I deserve this honor, my prince. And even if I do how will I ever repay you for what you have done today?"
For a moment, Duryodhana stared at Karna. Then he cracked a smile, "We have never seen an archer like you. Such a warrior deserves to have much more than insignificant Anga. Why, to me it seems you could rule the world!" He paused, then, gazing levelly at Karna, said, "As for repayment, there is one thing I want in return for the small service I have done you. I want your friendship."
Meeting his gaze, Karna laughed and said, "That is already yours."
The two embraced each other before that crowd. Some of the people cried, "Duryodhana, yours is a noble heart. You are truly a Kuru prince."
But others held their peace. They saw that the Pandavas were slighted by Duryodhana's gesture. Then, everyone was startled to see an old man, who walked with the help of a stick, pushing his way through the crowd. His wrinkled face was wreathed in a smile. He came straight into the arena and, when Karna saw him, he gave a cry of joy and ran to him. Atiratha, the suta charioteer, hugged his son and said, "What fortune, my child!"
Karna knelt at the old man's feet and set the golden crown of Anga there. Atiratha cried, "Prince Duryodhana, I bless you! You have a great heart."
Now the Pandavas were full of scornful smiles. Bheema cried, "Sutaputra! You aren't man enough to die at Arjuna's hands. Go and ply your whip; it suits you better than a bow."
The Pandavas and the sections of the crowd loyal to them laughed. A spinning weakness threat- ened to overwhelm Karna. He stood mute and lifted his eyes up to the Sun, Surya who was his God. Kunti's eyes welled again when she saw her son praying to his own father like that, never knowing the coruscant Deva was his sire.
Once more Duryodhana sprang up in his place. He was like a bull-elephant in musth, about to trample a forest pool brimming with lotuses. He roared at Bheema, "Cousin! You are a kshatriya, but you demean your birth; why, what you say would demean a beggar. Valor isn't the preserve of just the kshatriyas."
He raged now and the seething crowd was his true audience.
"Take the greatest rivers and warriors and their sources are mysterious. It is the greatness they swell into during their course through the world that counts. Moreover, the births of the greatest men have always been obscure. Why, the most awesome fire, Badava, is to be found below the ocean, where it slumbers until the apocalypse, when it erupts to consume heaven and earth.
Think of the origins of our own gurus, Drona and Kripa. One was born in a river-shell, the other in a bank of reeds. Think, for that matter, of the birth of our own fathers and of our uncle Vidura. Think of your own births, O Pandavas, who were never Pandu's sons. The world knows your mother took three lovers, whoever they were and you three were born!
Who are you to talk of origins and lineage? That you pour scorn on this hero, who from his quali- ties, why, from his very face, is more of a kshatriya than you or I.
I say Karna deserves to be lord of the earth! And if you were not blind, Bheema, you would see that too. On every feature of this noble stranger, I see greatness stamped. I don't care whose son he is: to me he is a kshatriya and among kshatriyas he shall live!
Now tell your highborn brother to fight the king of Anga. Of course, if he dares to."
But then, abruptly, night fell; it was too dark now for a duel. But Karna had stolen Arjuna's thun- der today. Moreover, Duryodhana's gesture toward the brilliant stranger had endeared him to the crowd, which now filed its way out of the stadium praising the Kaurava prince. No one spoke of Arjuna's feats tonight. Duryodhana knew the appearance of Karna was the best omen in his life. He felt certain that from now on his fortunes would change for the better.
By torchlight, through the festive streets where singing and dancing broke out, it was the heroes of the evening who led the procession: Karna, king of Anga and his friend Duryodhana, the Kaurava prince. They walked with arms linked, glowing with their friendship so well struck.
Bheeshma seemed pleased; perhaps because Drona's arrogance had been shorn a little today. The patriarch walked behind Duryodhana and Karna, with a gleam in his eye. He greeted the people as if every one of them was his own child. But Drona walked at the very end of the procession and hid his face from the glare of the torches. Vidura, too, was pensive beside Drona.
And behind Vidura walked the humbled Pandavas, solemn, even sullen. Yudhishtira managed to greet some of the crowd. Yet even he was shaken today. He had always felt that his position and his brothers' were unassailable because of Bheema's strength and Arjuna's peerless archery. But Duryo- dhana was at least Bheema's equal; and today the Kaurava had made a friend who was clearly Arjuna's equal. Karna had appeared like a dangerous comet in Yudhishtira's sky and the eldest Pandava was far-seeing enough to realize this.
Behind Yudhishtira walked Arjuna, stiffly, sweat on his face and his hands clammy. His spirits were lower than they had ever been since the day he saw Ekalavya. But Karna was not Drona's pupil and the acharya could not ask him for his thumb. Beside Arjuna walked the young giant, Bheema; and he was also too angry to greet the people who were, anyway, busy lionizing Karna and Duryo-dhana. His hands were clenched and his mouth set in a tight line. He was smarting under Duryo- dhana's assault on him.
Of course, what really hurt him was that every word his cousin had said was true. Bheema had never felt so small in all his life, or so petty. His heart burning with shame, his face red in the torch- light, he walked behind Yudhishtira, with a somber Nakula and Sahadeva behind him. So grim did the usually ebullient Bheema look tonight, that none of the people dared approach him.
