Karna's Wife (the outcast queen)

It was that man again. That man, with his thick mane, brooding eyes and twinkling

earrings, walked towards her, his gold armour glittering so fiercely under the blazing

sun that it was blinding. His intense radiance threw tormented shadows, the wind

suddenly whirling away the figure made spectral by the shadows, and snuf ing it

abruptly while she stood there, her arms extended, against the vast emptiness of

sand...

She woke up with a start, shivering slightly, her eyes wide, her breathing turning to quick

gasps. She had seen the same dream. Again. Over and over again. And each time the

persistently vivid dream spawned a haunted restlessness, pushing her into uneasy

wakefulness.

The night was quiet, the marbled bedroom quieter still, but Uruvi could almost hear

the raging turmoil within her. She looked down at her arms—stretched and trembling, as

if trying to grasp the intangible. As intangible as the elusive man in her dreams. 'Karna,'

she uttered the name softly, and whispered it several times over, convinced that this was

the man she had loved since the day she had first seen him.

She recollected her first sight of him—striding into the arena of the archery

tournament in Hastinapur. The contest had been arranged by the royal patriarch, Bhishma

Pitamaha of Hastinapur, to highlight the archery skills of his great-grandnephews, the

hundred Kauravas and the five Pandavas.

Against the flaming halo of the dipping sun, the young man had immediately attracted

the attention of everyone present. The bustling arena went abruptly still and hundreds of

eyes fell on the youth. He looked serenely divine, swathed in an almost ethereal glow,

his back straight, his head held high, his strangely golden armour gleaming as radiantly

as his handsome face, while his earrings sparkled in the rays of the setting sun. He was

tall—taller than Arjuna, the Pandava prince, but did not loom large like Bhima, the

second Pandava and the strongest man in the kingdom. Lithe but muscular with broad

shoulders and a trim waist, the young stranger with his thick golden brown hair appeared

almost God-like to Uruvi. Saluting Guru Dronacharya, the royal teacher of the Kauravas

and the Pandavas, and Kripacharya, the royal priest, he walked straight up to a plainly

astonished Arjuna to announce grandly, 'I, Karna, shall perform every feat with the bow

and arrow that have just been shown now, but with greater skill.' He then proceeded to

do so with contemptuous ease.

As the Princess of Pukeya, Uruvi had a vantage view from the gold-leafed royal

enclave perched majestically above the swarming crowd. Sitting amongst the regal

entourage of the blind King Dhritrashtra and Queen Gandhari, Uruvi knew she had fallen

in love with the stranger then and there—utterly and irrevocably. Mesmerized, she

continued to stare at the handsome young man who was flaunting his phenomenal skills

with more flamboyance than Arjuna. Uruvi was sitting next to Queen Kunti, the imperial

widow of King Pandu of Hastinapur and the mother of the Pandavas. As her mother's

childhood friend, Kunti was Uruvi's self-appointed foster mother.

'Who's he?' Uruvi excitedly turned to the Pandava queen, who looked unexpectedly

ashen and seemed to stiffen at her question. 'Ma, are you not feeling well?'

There was no reply and Uruvi saw to her growing horror that Kunti had crumpled

into a quiet faint. Thoroughly alarmed, and the stranger forgotten for the moment, Uruvi

knelt over the prostrate figure, calling anxiously for help just as Vidura, the youngest

brother and chief counsellor of King Dhritrashtra, took charge of the situation. Soon

Uruvi was relieved to see her foster mother swiftly regaining consciousness. 'It must

have been the heat,' murmured Kunti through parched lips, gathering her silken folds and

her dignity quickly.

Reassured, Princess Uruvi peered down the gallery to watch what was happening

below. The show was supposed to be a display of skills by the two groups of cousins—

the Kauravas and the Pandavas. But this stranger, who called himself Karna, seemed to

have stolen the glory from the Kuru princes, particularly Arjuna.

Uruvi watched Karna bow carelessly to the royal audience each time he strung his

bow and effortlessly repeated the feats of Arjuna.

Prince Duryodhana, the eldest of the Kaurava brothers, looked visibly delighted, his

swarthy face wreathed in a huge smile. For a man who rarely smiled, he looked

unusually euphoric. He rushed to the young archer and embraced him like a long-lost

brother, 'Whoever you are, fortune has sent you to me. My brothers and I are at your

command,' he announced.

Events seemed to be happening too fast and decidedly not in his favour, realized an

irate Arjuna. A promising and versatile warrior, he was the best Kuru archer. He blazed

with an impetuous temper. 'Whoever you are, you are an intruder! You have entered

uninvited and yet you dare compete with us! You shall sorely regret your arrogance the

moment you taste defeat. I shall trounce you in a challenge.'

Karna gave a mirthless smile and replied evenly, 'What is the use of a competition if

one cannot be compared with others? Talk is the weapon of the weak; release your

arrows instead of hollow words.'

'This young man is a great warrior!' declared Bhishma Pitamaha in his deep

baritone. 'He has surpassed each of Arjuna's feats.'

Arjuna looked almost apoplectic. Glancing at his mottled face, Princess Uruvi could

not suppress a giggle. 'Spoilsport!'she dimpled. 'Can't face competition, can he?'

The mood of the tournament had radically changed; the air seemed to thicken rapidly

with palpable tension. Having surpassed Arjuna's feats, the stranger, encouraged by

Bhishma's pronouncement, was now challenging Arjuna to a duel.

Arjuna bristled angrily. He hurriedly bowed to his teachers, hugged his brothers and

with his face flushed, stood ready for combat as Karna faced him.

The sun suddenly disappeared behind a huge dark cloud and it seemed as if it would

rain.

'No, oh, no!' cried Kunti, getting up from her seat in nervous agitation. 'They cannot

fight...oh, no, they shouldn't!'

'Ma, please, it's fair enough!' cried Uruvi, rising too in her excitement. 'If Arjuna is

as good as that young man, or even better as he believes, what is there to be so scared

of? And who is this young man anyway? He is absolutely wonderful. Oh, I am enjoying

this! Now for the duel!'she chortled in glee.

Vidura gave her a stern look, clearly disapproving of her blood-thirsty idea of

enjoyment. 'One of them could get badly hurt or worse, get killed because of immature

egotism,' he spoke to his sister-in-law Kunti, the mother of Arjuna. Kunti was extremely

agitated and seemed clearly against the duel.

Like Uruvi, the onlookers were wondering about the identity of this young man just

as Kripacharya spoke to him. 'According to the rules of the game, only a kshatriya, a

high-born warrior, can fight another kshatriya in a tournament,' he declared, placing

himself firmly between the two young men. 'Arjuna, whom you have challenged, is a

prince, the worthy son of King Pandu and Queen Kunti, the scion of the Kuru dynasty.

Pray, who are you, son?'

Uruvi felt a sharp pain in her arm. Kunti appeared drained of colour while

unconsciously gripping Uruvi's upper arm, her fingers biting into the soft flesh. She was

staring at the youth with a strange emotion, as if his answer was of tremendous

importance. The audience was hushed as everybody waited eagerly for an answer. Only

the youth remained strangely silent, staring at the horizon where the sun was slowly

disappearing. His handsome face was sapped of its radiant pride.

His lips were clenched and his noble head was bowed, as if in shame. The proud

archer suddenly appeared lost.

'Why does he not say something?' Uruvi exclaimed edgily. 'Why doesn't he reveal

who he is?'