Bloodlines (On hold)

Worthless Coins

Karna had one expressed his desire to become an archer, to his parents. His father had been silent for many days after. His mother had broached the subject to his father several times in the next few weeks but this had elicited only grunts in reply. Karna had waited, his heart thumping in his chest, praying to Lord Shiva that his father would consent. Then one day, Athiratha asked him to accompany him to the temple. They were not permitted to enter the inner sanctum of the temple as they belonged to one of the lower castes, but were fortunate enough to be allowed access to the outer compound to pray. Acharya Kripa was sitting on an elevated platform under a huge Banyan tree, arguing with his friends. A game of dice was in full flow and the Acharya was on the verge of beating one of his friends when father and son approached him.

Athiratha had taken off his angavastra from his shoulder and tied it around his waist as a mark of respect. He stood a few feet from the Acharya, his eyes fixed to the ground in the deferential manner of a Suta who wished to speak to a Brahmin. Karna waited anxiously behind his father. Kripa stopped his arguments and looked at Athiratha in surprise. What was a charioteer doing here?

"Swami, I have a humble request..."

"I am broke as an earthen pot. I do not have any money to lend you. If I had, I would have enjoyed a few more mugs of wine in the tavern." The Acharya broke into boisterous laughter.

Karna knew Kripa was a maverick Brahmin, who did not care for social and ethical norms. Now that Acharya Drona had come, there were murmurs in the palace that Kripa, for all his learning and skill with arms, would be fired as the Princes' tutor. Kripa behaved as if he had not a care in the world. He could be seen in the tavern from early morning, laughing with his cronies, when other members of his caste were busy with prayers and ablution. The conservative Brahmin community viewed his genius as a threat to their cloistered existence. The other problem was that he was far better versed in the scriptures than any of them; and he was always looking for an argument or fight, with anyone who dared to challenge him. They had no answers to his questions about the scriptures and he deliberately mocked the rigid caste rules by openly flouting them and then quoting the Vedas and Upanishads to justify his actions. Karna knew his father nursed the faint hope that this maverick would help them.

"Swami, I do not seek alms. This is my son, Karna. He desires to be a warrior and learn from you."

"Aha! He wants to be a warrior." Kripa jumped down from the platform he had been perched on and rushed towards Karna. He stopped inches short of Karna's face and peered into his eyes. Karna recoiled instinctively and retreated a few feet. He was afraid of accidentally touching the Brahmin and breaking the caste taboos. Karna could see his father's shocked face. Kripa had already broken the caste rules by coming so near. The Priest at the temple was watching the scene from the gate, a deepening frown on his face. Kripa pushed the boy and Karna staggered back. Then he grabbed Karna by his long hair and lifted him with one hand. He slapped Karna across the face and punched him in the stomach with his strong left hand. Karna winced in pain but refused to cry out.

"Swami... Swami... do not beat him," Athiratha implored.

"Fool! You think this is a beating? Your boy has courage. With proper training, he can be a good warrior. He can withstand pain." Kripa dropped Karna; then swiftly and gracefully jumped back onto the platform. He sat down, his fingers caressing his flowing black beard.