Karna's Wife (37 page)

‘That’s an intelligent but an irreverent argument.’

‘But nevertheless true!’ she retorted. ‘It has never been publicly acknowledged, and therefore they did not suffer the stigma as Karna had to. You have always been liberal and I refuse to believe all those nasty words you threw at Karna! You are hiding something—and I want to know what it is!’

The old man ignored her plea and remained quiet. Uruvi would not give up; her stubborn streak would not allow it. ‘Are you not the same Bhishma Pitamaha who was the first to acknowledge publicly that Karna was a formidable archer, on par or even better than Arjuna? And yet you were also the one who did not utter a word of protest when, at the same event, Bhima insulted Karna by calling him a sutaputra. Why were you silent when you saw that injustice?’

Bhishma Pitamaha did not say a word. Angered by his silence, Uruvi went on relentlessly. ‘You did not intervene even when Draupadi was disrobed in your presence. How did you allow it as you presided over the Raj Sabha? You could have stopped the outrage, so why didn’t you?’ she demanded heatedly. ‘Sir, you have earned the respect of all who know you, but you have done things that I’m sure you’re not proud of! Right from how you kidnapped the three Kashi princesses, Amba, Ambika and Ambalika, for your brother, King Vichitravirya. They were forced to marry him. Were you not responsible for the suicide of Amba, who eventually killed herself because the man she was in love with refused to marry her, fearing the wrath of the great Bhishma? Kings were so petrified of you that you easily bought over their princesses and forced them to marry Kuru princes. You did it with Madri for King Pandu and with Gandhari for King Dhritrashtra. Their feelings were really never considered. You refused to practise niyoga but you allowed it to be performed by King Vichitravirya’s widows with Rishi Vyasa, your half-brother.’

The old man watched her with a steadfast gaze, his face still. Uruvi pitilessly went on. ‘Later, you allowed a poisonous person like Shakuni to station himself at Hastinapur, knowing full well that he had never forgiven you. You knew he would strike back and seek his revenge some day, but you preferred to keep silent as usual!’ she lashed out. ‘You permitted him his cunning, his deceit, his constant plotting against the Pandavas. You knew he was poisoning Duryodhana’s young, impressionable mind, yet you did not bother to snatch the young prince away from his uncle’s evil influence. Instead, you were a passive witness even when little Bhima was poisoned by Shakuni. Nor did you protest when the Pandavas and Kunti were duped into staying in the lac palace, which was eventually gutted in an attempt to kill the six of them. Again, you were the silent spectator as the kingdom was divided unwisely between the cousins. It was in your regal presence that a hideous crime like the gross cheating at the dice game was played out. You watched the disrobing of your granddaughter-in-law, Draupadi, by your great-grandsons, yet did nothing—how low could you allow your descendants to stoop, grand sire?’

Uruvi went on, trying to provoke the old man with her caustic words. ‘And how could you see what was happening and not say a single word of anger, of protest? You are the head of the family—who would dare disobey you? Even now, at this moment, do you have it in you to stop the war between the cousins? Can you not stop the devastation that is going to happen?’ she cried in frustration. ‘For all your noble claims of wisdom and righteousness, you do not have the conviction to stand for the Pandavas. Instead, you side with the depraved Kauravas in the name of family loyalty. And yet you assert that dharma demands that you shall not kill any Pandava. By personally degrading Karna, you divest your own army of its best warrior. What dharma, grand sire, is this that prevents you from fighting against vice?’

Uruvi stopped abruptly; her torrent of words dried up. Bhishma Pitamaha looked at her thoughtfully, impervious to the contempt in each word she had flung at him.

He had listened with an expressionless face, but the glacial austerity on his face had melted. His voice held a rasping finality in his tone as, at last, he spoke. ‘I fear my own dharma has let me down,’ he began stoically. ‘Like Kripacharya and Dronacharya, I, too, am bound to the Kauravas by servitude, by loyalty. I cannot switch sides as I have to protect the Kuru throne as its loyal servant who has been brought up on the benevolence of the Kuru king. Loyalty to the clan is supreme,’ he said slowly. ‘I have watched the dynasty crumble as young heirs like Prince Chitragandha, King Vichitravirya and King Pandu died premature deaths. I have seen queens like Satyavati, Ambika and Ambalika retire to the forests to escape the pain of watching their race die. It is my fate and my misfortune that I am alive today to see my dear ones eventually kill themselves in a mindless carnage.’

‘And yet your dharma does not tell you to stop this carnage? How can you support those who are in the wrong?’ Uruvi asked swiftly. ‘You are Bhishma, which means “he of the terrible oath”. And you are proving that your oath
is
terrible—it is your oath of lifelong celibacy and of devotion and loyalty to the king of Hastinapur, whoever he may be, even Duryodhana! How can you claim your oath is your dharma? Isn’t dharma about achieving salvation by facing the world, and being accountable for every action? Isn’t dharma about doing right and being right? Righteousness should rise above friends and relatives; it should not weaken because of love and affection. It has to be fair and, above all, moral. How moral is it to side with the Kauravas knowing they have wronged the Pandavas? How moral was it to be silent when Draupadi was stripped in public? And how moral is it to spurn Karna because he is a sutaputra and stop him from fighting with the Kauravas when they need him the most?’

Uruvi’s temper flared again. ‘How can you call Karna a sutaputra when the Pandavas are not the sons of King Pandu in the first place? They are Kunti’s and Madri’s sons from four different gods, not King Pandu’s! They have no Kuru blood in them at all! Or is it that you are trying to protect your favourite, Arjuna, because you are scared that Karna will kill him?’ she taunted. ‘Does your love for Arjuna make you so weak that you deprive another person of his rights, his self-respect?’

‘Silence!’ roared the patriarch, his face red with fury, his eyes blazing. “I have heard enough of your nonsense! What you are uttering is blasphemy! I am trying to be fair to both sides…they and Karna are all my great-grandnephews after all!’

There was a stunned silence. Uruvi gave a triumphant smile and Bhishma Pitamaha knew he had been tricked into blurting out the truth buried deep over the years. Uruvi looked up at him with renewed respect. ‘Oh, sir, you are trying to protect your great-grandnephews from certain death, isn’t it? But your pretence and your feigned anger cannot save Karna any more!’ she said sadly. ‘If you knew all along that Karna, too, was your great-grandnephew like Arjuna and Duryodhana, why did you not give him his due right as the oldest Kuru prince? Why, oh, why, did you again keep silent and when the grossest injustice was done to him? He was a prince, but your silence let him be cursed as a low-caste orphan! You recognized Karna as your great-grandnephew at the archery contest at Hastinapur years ago, but you did not announce his true credentials—that he was a royal-born man. That he was the eldest Pandava, the eldest Kuru grandson, fit to be the scion of your royal family. If you had publicly declared that, we would not be facing the worst moments of our lives. Instead, you allowed Bhima to mock him as a sutaputra, forcing Karna to take the hand of Duryodhana in everlasting friendship. Now you talk about avoiding a confrontation between Karna and Arjuna when you had the power to do so from the very beginning.’

‘How could I declare the golden boy Karna was actually the eldest Pandava? For that, I would have to cast an aspersion on my daughter-in-law, Kunti,’ he said helplessly. ‘Yes, I knew about Karna’s true identity through Rishi Vyasa. So did Guru Parshurama and Krishna. All of us kept silent because it was up to the mother of the child to own up to the truth. We have no right to do so. It was her prerogative. Not mine. Nor anyone else’s.’

Again, the onus fell on one person. Kunti. A mother who would rather watch her child die than tell the world that she had an illegitimate child.

‘All of you knew the truth but stayed quiet!’ she said helplessly. ‘I know it now, too, so who can stop
me
from telling everyone who Karna really is! If Duryodhana and Yudhishthira realize that Karna is the true Kuru heir, it would avoid the confrontation, wouldn’t it?’ she asked in desperation. ‘That would stop the war, wouldn’t it?’ she asked piteously.

Bhishma Pitamaha looked at her tenderly, the deep sorrow still in his piercing eyes. ‘But you well know you can’t say it yourself either! Karna has extracted a promise from you too, hasn’t he?’ he patted her drooping head. ‘Do you think I want this war to happen? It is ripping my soul apart! Have I lived so long that I have to witness such a gory end of my own family? Two sides of my family are thirsting for each other’s blood, and I can only watch them tear each other to shreds. I have to support one side because of my unswerving loyalty to the throne, but eventually, the one who sits on this throne will have his hands, his soul covered with the blood of thousands of innocents!’

‘Then again I beg you, why don’t you avert this tragedy?’ she said wretchedly. ‘Or, at least tell me a way out.’

‘It is the end, dear. The war is inevitable,’ the old man declared, disheartened. ‘But I promise you, dear child, I shall save Karna till my last breath! I will not allow him to fight on the battlefield while I am battling the Pandavas. I shall not allow him to shoot an arrow nor will an arrow be directed towards him. But before my death, there is one person to whom I shall reveal the true identity of Karna—to Duryodhana. I owe it to him. He must realize the supreme sacrifice Karna has made for him—a sacrifice one would not make even for his own brother. I want him to appreciate the greatness of Karna.’

As the old man articulated his promise to her, Uruvi’s anger gave way to compassion. The patriarch gave her a tired smile. ‘You always believed I was unfair to Karna; I was harsh to him because he had so many good qualities that I feared he would become vain. He did not. I love him the most, but it is my misfortune that I never could show my affection and respect for my favourite great-grandnephew. Karna is that unfortunate young man whom I could not claim as my own, the best of them all. Though I was a disciple of Guru Parshurama, I have to admit that it is Karna who has been his best pupil, his shishya. He is the greatest warrior and archer and no one can excel him except Krishna. He is gifted, generous, righteous and brave, but doomed because of his loyalty to Duryodhana. Karna knew that this would lead to his eventual downfall as he was assisting evil against good. And that is what troubled me so much. I could not bear it and probably I was harsher to Karna than I meant to be.’

‘And you are being harsher—or kinder—to him now, in your last attempt to save him?’ Uruvi’s voice trembled. ‘This is your last attempt to save him! I guessed as much, and that is why I came to you today. But please tell me what I should do. Am I to sit quietly, knowing the truth, and watch silently as my husband gets killed in this senseless war? No! I cannot do it!’ she sank to her knees, and pressing her forehead on her two clenched fists, burst into passionate weeping. The tears, which she had reined in so long, overflowed and she sobbed broken-heartedly.

‘Cry, child, cry, let the tears flow…’ he stroked her hair gently. ‘Because soon they will dry up. There will be worse to see—and you won’t be able to cry any more. My eyes are waterless now and so will yours turn dry. This was the day I wanted to protect you from, dear. And that is why I did not want you to marry Karna. Because I wanted to spare you this grief that all of us are cursed to suffer.’

‘Oh, the war, the war!’ he sighed dejectedly. ‘I know the Pandavas don’t desire it. But what do you expect the Pandavas to do, Uruvi? Take the injustice done to them silently? They have no option but to retaliate, child. That leaves Duryodhana. He wants the war because he foolishly thinks he’ll win it, using Karna, Dronacharya and me. But all the three of us realize that is not how it is. We shall lose, not because we are weak, but because we are not on the side of the right, of the fair, of the good. We are fighting the war for all the wrong reasons—and the three of us know that. Even though Karna is Duryodhana’s closest friend and strongest ally, he discerns the right from the wrong—but he is as helpless as we are. All I can do is try to save him! I vow to you, my dear, I shall fight for Karna’s life until my last breath.’

‘I know you will,’ she gave him a small, watery smile through her tears. ‘But, grand sire, if I tell Duryodhana about the true identity of Karna, won’t he step back? I know he will. The only person he loves dearly is Karna, and for him, he will even abdicate his throne,’ she said with a reassurance she was far from feeling.

‘Yes, for Karna, Duryodhana probably would,’ agreed Bhishma Pitamaha thoughtfully. ‘But his grouse, my dear, is not against any individual. It is against the Pandavas, who he believes have no right over the throne. If you disclose the truth to Duryodhana, Karna will cease to be his friend and become the eldest Pandava and, therefore, his sworn enemy instead. Is Duryodhana’s love for his friend so large-hearted that he can accept him as the eldest Pandava and the rightful Kuru heir? I wonder about that! If not, there will still be a war, but the camps will be different. It would be Karna on the side of the Pandavas against Duryodhana, but if I know Karna well, he would rather die for his friend, fight evil against good than ever betray him. He will never fight against Duryodhana. Either way, Uruvi, Karna is destined to die on the battlefield—you cannot avert it, however much you hope and try to!’ he heaved a deep sigh. ‘Unless, of course, he decides to convince the Pandavas not to fight…’

‘But the Pandavas would only listen to Karna if they learn about his true identity. Only then will they accept him as their older brother,’ she said with a sinking heart. ‘Till then, he is the despicable sutaputra who humiliated Draupadi in the Raj Sabha. Neither they nor Draupadi have forgotten the outrage. No, grand sire, they will obey Karna only if they know his real identity, which neither of us can reveal to anyone.’