Karna: The Great Warrior

By Ranjit Desai

'Who am I?' It was a question that had troubled him all his life. His whole life had seemed entangled in the answer. His dignity, his destination, his ambitions -- they all seemed linked to that entanglement. The irony was that the truth, instead of liberating him, had made him rudderless. In the Mahabharata, Karna is known to be the only warrior who could match Arjuna. Born of a god and a mother who abandons him at birth, Karna is mistreated from birth. Rejected by Drona, taunted by Draupadi, insulted by his blood brothers, misunderstood by many and manipulated even by the gods, Karna is the classic tragic hero. In his novel Radheya, Ranjit Desai, the author of Marathi classics like Shriman Yogi and Swami, gives voice to the angst and loneliness of Karna. Translated into English for the first time, the novel brings to surface the many sides to Karna's character: his compassionate nature, his hurt and hubris, the love for his wife, his allegiance to Duryodhana, and his complicated relationship with Krishna.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Harper Perennial India
• Release date: Aug 25, 2019
• ISBN: 9789353571412

Ranjit Desai

Ranjit Desai (8 April 1928-6 March 1992) was born in Kolhapur district, Maharashtra. Biographical novels were his forte. His most famous works are Morpankhi Sawalya, Shriman Yogi and Swami, based on the life of Madhavrao Peshwa, the third Peshwa. He won the Maharashtra Rajya Award (1963), Hari Narayan Apte Award (1963), the Sahitya Akademi Award (1964) and the Padmshri from the Government of India (1973).

Book preview

PROLOGUE

The vast expanse of the Kurukshetra battlefield had never looked more desolate. The earth, despite the blazing sun above, seemed to have lost its vigour. After a pyrrhic battle, it was time for the funeral pyres to be lit. The mighty warriors, who had fought without a care for their own lives, now had their heads bowed, searching for the dead bodies of their valiant companions. At the end of it, victory and defeat had lost meaning. The very chariots whose wheels had rutted the earth now lay in shambles on the field. The war trumpets, whose sounds were enough to energize even the dead, now were conspicuous by their silence. The conch shells, whose solemn sounds had announced a victory lay carelessly on the earth littered with broken arrows. The shadows of the hungry vultures circling overhead threatened to darken the battlefield. The mighty Pandavas and other warriors like Dhaumya, Vidur and Yuyutsu, with the help of their servants, continued to perform the last rites. One after the other, the pyres were being lit. Dark, dense clouds darkened the skies over the pious land of Kurukshetra, where a golden hull had once ploughed the earth.

The warriors, having completed their task, walked towards the banks of the Ganga as the sun descended towards the western horizon. The sight of the sacred river did not help to soothe their hearts burdened by the loss of their dear ones. Indifferent to the hot sand scorching their feet, they looked around with vacant eyes. The raging funeral pyres had subsumed the ecstasy of victory as well as the agony of defeat.

A small tent had been erected on the sandy banks of the river where the women from the royal household waited for the men. Seeing the men walk towards the river with their heads bowed, they stood up to join them.

Yudhishthira stood in the midst of the flowing stream, the waters lapping at his knees while Rajmata Kunti sat on a patch of green grass with Draupadi standing near her. Behind them stood Krishna, calm as always. The other Pandava brothers—Bheema, Arjuna, Nakula and Sahadeva—sat on the banks, their hearts overcome with sorrow. The arrogance of having vanquished the enemy, the zeal of having fulfilled a vow, or the joy of having emerged victorious had all lost their meaning. The time for a display of might was over. What remained were the memories of those who had lost their lives to achieve a victory, tragic at best.

Yudhishthira offered oblations to each of the dead. The very mention of each name triggered memories, and the tears continued to flow unabated. Soon, all the dead had been honoured. Yudhishthira asked, without turning back, ‘Have I forgotten anyone by any chance?’

Those on the banks looked at each other askance. They could not recall anyone.

Yudhishthira’s words pierced Rajmata Kunti’s heart and she started shivering, her lips turning dry. Her tear-filled eyes looked at Krishna beseechingly.

Krishna, staring blankly at the flowing waters of the Ganga, could not hold back his tears.

Yudhishthira was about to turn when Kunti, finally finding her voice, screamed, ‘Krishna!’ Krishna looked at her as she implored, ‘Krishna, won’t you?’ She could not speak further. Everyone turned to Krishna, curious about what he would do.

Letting out a deep sigh and adjusting the angavastram on his shoulders, Krishna walked towards the river. ‘Wait! Dharma, wait!’

Yudhishthira was surprised. ‘I have performed the oblations for all …’

Krishna shook his head. ‘No. There is one left.’

‘Impossible! Krishna, the defeated may forget their dead, but the victorious never do. I realize the futility of the victory when I perform oblations, but I would not forget those who have sacrificed their lives for us.’

Krishna, for once, struggled with words. ‘Dharma, he was the one who accepted death to make you victorious. A warrior you considered an enemy, but one who never forgot the ties of blood. There was only one such …’

Dharma was agonized listening to Krishna. ‘Pitamah Bhishmacharya? But that’s impossible! He is waiting for Uttarayan. He has a boon to shed his body when he wishes to, and there is time for Uttarayan yet. Are you saying he …’

‘No, Dharma. I am talking of Maharathi Karna …’

‘What! Karna? Radheya?’ Yudhishthira erupted angrily. ‘Krishna, there is a limit to my patience. I am true to my dharma, but I won’t give offerings to one I consider my enemy.’

‘Even if he were family?’

‘Krishna, I may choose to give offerings to the Kauravas for once but … Karna?’

‘Listen to me before you say another word!’ Krishna interrupted. ‘Maharathi Karna is your eldest brother.’

‘Krishna!’

‘He was not Radheya. He was Kaunteya—Kuntiputra.’

‘Lies!’ Yudhishthira covered his ears with his palms, not wanting to hear any more.

Krishna could not hold his tears as they flowed freely down his cheeks.

Dharma threw a questioning glance at his mother only to find her looking down, her chin resting on her palms, her elbows on her knees as she sat on the grass. Her silence conveyed everything.

The other Pandavas stood up, unable to believe what they had just heard.

‘Yudhishthira, control yourself! No one can stop what fate had in store. Karna was the son of Surya and a boon Mata Kunti received when she was not yet married. Karna was the eldest and the best amongst Kunti’s sons. It is your duty to offer your oblations to him. I am telling the truth. Yudhishthira, I urge you—offer your prayers to Karna in respect for his being a Kaunteya, in humility for him being the eldest of you lot and in gratitude for his exemplary charity.’

Yudhishthira, the very essence of self-restraint, was shaken by Krishna’s words. With great difficulty, he cupped his hands with the waters of the Ganga and said, ‘In the arrogance of victory and my ignorance of who you are, I had always wished you dead. O Karna, my eldest brother and the best amongst Kunti’s sons, I, Yudhishthira …’ he faltered. The water slipped out of his fingers and fell, making a small dent in the flow of the river for a fleeting moment before merging into the stream. Yudhishthira collapsed into the waters.

The rest of Pandavas could not remain mute spectators anymore.

Arjuna flung himself on the bank, his hands trying to clutch the sand as he muttered out of helplessness, ‘Karna … not Radheya … but Kaunteya … not an enemy but a brother! During the great duel, when he challenged me, it was I who had insulted him, taunting him as a mere charioteer’s son. Karna! Who, despite having the ability to pierce the fish’s eye during Draupadi’s swayamvara, was made a laughing stock because of our false attachments to societal norms. And he swallowed all those insults quietly!

‘Wasn’t he blamed when Draupadi was disrobed in public? Was it justified? Karna, I realized far too late that you had played no role in Abhimanyu’s death! But I had already avenged his death by killing your son. What is the point of the realization if you, despite knowing the truth, had kept quiet?’

Hearing footsteps, Arjuna looked up to see Krishna walking towards him. The sun behind his back silhouetted his frame. Arjuna scrambled to get up and shouted, ‘Krishna! Stop! Don’t come any closer. I don’t want your cursed hands to touch me. Who told you that we desire such a victory, sullied with the blood of our own? We would rather have spent the rest of our lives in the forest than cherish such a victory. Did I win the Gandeeva, the invincible bow, from Agni himself, to kill my very own brother? You knew the truth! Yet you chose to let us find it out through this unforgiving defeat. Is this how you treat someone who trusts you completely? I never imagined that you would be responsible for our disgrace. I hate you …’

Arjuna, with tears flowing, turned to walk away from Krishna. The other Pandava brothers followed suit.

Krishna did not have the courage to stop them. He turned to look at Kunti and Draupadi.

Draupadi stood without speaking, her mind stunned, her lips quivering. Tears welled up in her eyes. She stared at her right palm and was about to wipe away the kumkum from her forehead when Krishna held her hand in mid-air. Looking at Krishna, she asked, ‘Krishna, is it my destiny that I should lose all that I deeply wish for?’

Rajmata Kunti, in the meanwhile, struggled to stand up. Pulling her hand away from Krishna’s grip, Draupadi rushed to help her.

Krishna could see, in a brief moment, the multitude of emotions which passed through Kunti’s eyes. They both left without saying another word. No one remained behind. On the water’s edge, as the Ganga rushed by reflecting the slanting rays of the dying sun, stood Krishna.

All alone.

1

The morning sun, already high above the horizon, burnt the earth, but for Karna, the heat was not a deterrent to his daily prayers as he stood in the Ganga, offering oblations to the sun god. His eyes were focused on the horizon as he prayed. Looking at the handsome young man, one could imagine that the sun god himself had descended into the waters.

Finishing his prayers, he cupped the waters in his palms for one last time and asked, as always, ‘Is there a person in need here?’

He asked the question thrice and then let the water flow back into the river. Touching the palms to his eyes, he walked back to the bank where his clothes and sandals were folded in a neat pile. He stopped dead in his tracks. A lovely golden chariot, standing in the burning heat, caught his eye.

It was his habit to park his chariot a distance from the river bank, almost hidden in the dense groves lest any needy person hesitate to ask for help. He would call out, asking if anyone was in need, and not turn to face the person till he or she had received the charity. Karna was ever alert lest he hesitate even for the briefest moment when it came to donating—even if it were to be an enemy in the guise of a needy person. Karna walked towards the golden chariot wondering who could have come at such an early hour to meet him. A smile crossed his face as he remembered his dear friend Duryodhana. It had been a while since he had met the yuvraj!

A tiger skin had been stretched to cover the chariot’s roof. Karna noticed the flag fluttering in the warm wind, lit up by the rays of the sun as it displayed its eagle insignia prominently. No, that could not be Duryodhana’s chariot. His symbol was an elephant bedecked with jewels.

The charioteer, seeing Karna, stepped forward and said, ‘Dwarkadheesh Krishna Maharaj is waiting for you.’

Krishna! Karna had heard a lot about him. He was the one who had slayed the evil Kansa. He had dared abduct Rukmini and married her, and he was the one who had laid the foundations of the city of Dwarka. That very Krishna had come to meet him! Karna could not believe his luck. Krishna’s famed dusky complexion, his valour and his mature and steady mind were known to Karna. He was overwhelmed by the very thought of meeting him. Unable to react, Karna stood rooted as he saw Krishna getting down the chariot.

Wearing a lovely yellow pitambar and a green angavastram draped casually around his shoulders, Krishna walked towards Karna. The golden crown on his head glinted in the sun. His bluish-brown skin was unique, while his eyes were gently arresting. His smile had a hypnotic quality that could make even a stranger relax.

Karna felt as if the lord himself had descended on earth in a human form. Krishna’s eyes, as he walked towards Karna, were focused on Karna’s earrings, the ones he had been born with. The golden kundalas added a glow to Karna’s fair skin. Karna’s angavastram, drenched with sweat and clinging to his body, could not hide his natural armour or kavach. The armour and the earrings added a unique charm to Karna’s handsomeness, and Krishna could not take his eyes off them, much to Karna’s embarrassment.

Karna quickly folded his palms together in greeting as Krishna came near.

Spreading out his arms, Krishna hugged Karna warmly. ‘Angaraj, we are nearly the same age; in fact, you may be a little older than me. Can we not meet as friends?’

Karna was enveloped by Krishna’s charm. Was there any doubt why the gopikas were so enamoured of him? His mellifluous voice could even put his famed flute to shame!

Extracting himself gently out Krishna’s embrace, Karna said, ‘I am honoured to meet you. I might be older but you, who tamed the deadly Kaliya Mardan as a child, are wiser and elder in status. A man’s stature is not measured by his age but by his deeds. I have heard of your valour, your exploits and your powers from many warriors, kings and even saints. It is my privilege to bow down to Dwarkadheesh.’

After a pause, he continued, ‘It is my good fortune that you have come to meet me. I apologize for making you wait. I did not know …’

‘There is no need to apologize. I went to your palace and was received warmly there. Realizing that you are in the midst of your daily prayers, I could not resist the temptation to come meet you here, in this state.’

‘This state?’

‘I have heard of your earrings and your natural body armour for a long time. I would have been able to see your earrings at any time, but to see your armour I had to come here! I could feel its protective power even as I hugged you.’

Karna’s face showed a multitude of emotions. In an agonized tone, he said, ‘Oh! The earrings! I was born with them and the armour. But my own mother could not bear to keep me, and for reasons best known to her, she put me in a wicker basket and left me to my destiny to float down the river. Who was she? Why did she give me up? My mind goes crazy at times searching for answers to these questions. Whenever I see my face in a mirror, I try to imagine my mother. How beautiful she must have been! But I have never been able to visualize her. Her face is always clouded, hidden behind a veil of time. What can the armour do when one’s own mother deserts you? Krishna, these earrings are a curse! I think my fate has destined me to float on the currents of time.’

Krishna put his hand on Karna’s shoulder. Karna could see his eyes were a sea of compassion.

‘Karna, I understand your agony. I too have experienced it. You were left to float on the currents while I had no choice but to cross over and seek the other bank. I grew up as Nanda’s child, while you found refuge in a charioteer’s home. Both of us were destined not to enjoy the luxury of a mother’s love. But you cannot row a boat if it were tied to the bank, can you?’

‘Krishna, your childhood was a bad dream which soon got over. You did not have to live with the mystery of not knowing who your mother was. But me? Who am I? Why was I discarded at birth? These thoughts never leave me. It is not easy to get over the agony of a motherless childhood.’

Krishna was silent. Wiping the sweat off his forehead with the edge of his angavastram, he said, looking up at the glowing sun, ‘Angaraj, you have a boon to absorb the mighty sun’s energy—this is your penance. But I was born to graze cows and that too in the shade of the forest trees. But let’s talk of other things. Should we move towards the cool confines of your palace? What do you say?’

‘My apologies! I completely forgot!’ Karna said hurriedly, realizing that they had been talking in the hot sun. ‘Let us go.’ He added, ‘You please go ahead. My chariot is waiting under the trees there. I will follow you.’

‘Daruk will bring your chariot. Come, join me here.’

Karna, seeing Krishna taking the charioteer’s place, smiled. ‘Are you going to take me home? That is not possible. My fate has decreed what I should be. If you permit, I would like to be your sarathi.’

A smiling Krishna willingly obliged and sat while Karna took the reins. The chariot quickly picked up pace, the bells making a sweet tinkling sound as they moved towards Karna’s palace.

Krishna was eager to see Champanagri, the capital city of Karna’s kingdom. Krishna noticed a huge moat and a thick protective wall built around the city while observation towers at various places ensured constant surveillance.

People looked at the two of them with a mixture and awe and curiosity as they moved along broad tree lined avenues. Soon, the two chariots entered the wide expanse of a cobbled courtyard beyond which was a sprawling palace. Servants scrambled seeing the chariots enter the courtyard, and a few of them ran to steady the horses while their lord and his guest dismounted.

Krishna seemed impressed. He said, getting down the chariot, ‘Karna, you know how to drive a chariot! My horses are of the Shaibya and Sugreev breeds, and they can detect the smallest tugs from the charioteer. Only a very well-trained person can handle them.’

‘What is there to praise me for, Krishna?’ Karna said, laughing. ‘It is you who is known for your expertise as a charioteer. I was born in a charioteer’s household, and it is my second nature now.’

‘It is your good fortune, I must say! After all, horses called desires are attached to the chariot of life and if one has learnt the art of mastering them, life can be beautiful.’

Krishna’s attention was diverted towards the broad steps leading up to the palace, where a maid stood with a pitcher of water and behind whom waited Vrushali, Karna’s wife, holding a tray to welcome the guests. The moment Krishna reached the bottom of the steps, the maid stepped forward to pour water on his feet and Vrushali welcomed him with a tilak on his forehead.

Blessing her, Krishna said, ‘There is no need for such formalities.’

Vrushali smiled. ‘We wish we had known of your arrival. I am sorry I could not do justice to your welcome.’

‘Had there been a fear of being an unwelcome visitor, I would not have come here unannounced, would I?’

A four-year-old boy caught Krishna’s attention. He ran into Karna’s arms when Karna said, ‘Vasu, won’t you welcome Maharaj?’

The boy looked at Krishna and then bent to put his head on his feet in respect.

Lifting him up with affection, Krishna remarked, ‘Angaraj, he is the spitting image of you. What is his name?’

‘Vrishasena.’

Looking at him admiringly, Krishna said, ‘Angaraj, he does not have your earrings.’

‘When you are lucky to have the shelter of parental love, where is the need for these?’

Krishna smiled, nodding his head in agreement. ‘That’s so true! After all, he has the good fortune of being born in a fearless warrior’s house. Angaraj, what about your parents?’

‘They reside in Hastinapur.’

‘Hastinapur?’

‘That’s right. The ones under whose care I grew, Adhirath and Radhai, live in Hastinapur. They did not have any children of their own, and when they found me floating in the river, it was a wish fulfilled for Radhai. Adhirath has served under Maharaj Dhritarashtra all this while. He looks after their stables now.’

‘What about your other family?’

‘My first wife Urmila had two sons, Shatrunjay and Vrishaketu. But Urmila left this world when Vrishaketu was very young. I then married Vrushali. I came here to look after this kingdom while Vrishaketu is being looked after by Radhai; he reminds her of me, you know!’

‘And Shatrunjay?’

‘He is growing up with Yuvraj Duryodhana’s children.’

They had reached the main hall, chatting all the way. The handmaidens and other servants were busy with errands to take care of their guest.

Karna asked, ‘Did you come all the way from Dwarka to meet me?

‘Not really, Angaraj. I had gone to the land of Kamrup for a penance. This is part of the same territory. It used to be called Kamashray earlier. Our stories say that Madan, running away from Shiva to not be burnt by his anger, dropped dead here. As a result, this area is called Angadesh. It is one of the sixteen mahajanapads, the sixteen kingdoms that form our country. This territory, discarded by all, has got a new lease of life thanks to your presence.’

‘I have not seen Dwarka, but I can well imagine its grandeur. Champanagri, I am sure, is nothing in comparison!’

‘It is not grandeur which gives charm and grace to a city, Karna. A land gets its glory when intelligent and wise men reside there. Your popularity has spread far and wide. After all, there is no land more prosperous than one where everyone is satisfied. Traversing your kingdom, spread from Baidyanath to Bhubaneshwar, is like taking a pilgrimage.’

Krishna’s words were music to Karna’s ears. He said, ‘A person like me, born in a lowly household, needs to do penance. Why do you, born with all the qualities a man needs, need to undertake tapasya?’

‘Radheya, can anyone escape tapasya? It is, after all, the bedrock of success. If one wants to learn the art of archery, he has to study with Guru Dronacharya. To learn how to handle horses, one has to become Adhirath’s disciple. To be a good wrestler, you have to see Jarasandha in action. After all, it is only through hardwork and meditation that one can earn heroism, glory, and fame.’

No one knew how time flew when they were in the presence of Krishna. All of Champanagri throbbed with a renewed energy. The soldiers accompanying Krishna were looked after by the citizens while the royal palace was busy hosting its most important visitor, and merriment and food were available in abundance. Vrishasena followed Krishna like a shadow wherever he went.

Karna woke up in the early hours of the morning to the sound of soft and mellifluous music. He strained his ears for the source of the intoxicatingly sweet tune. He glanced at Vrushali to find her sleeping peacefully on the bed. He touched her cheeks gently, waking her up but she, instead of getting up, held his palms to her cheeks and kept her