Natyam | A Mahabharata Fiction

34.

I am about to tell you what many, before and after me, will say. Life has a way of giving you heart attacks.

This happened to me when I heard Kunti telling my dearest sakha that he was her son. I personally felt like gagging when the secret was revealed.

We were hidden in the dark recesses of the palace when we found out. Beside me, Draupadi's face had paled.

I don't remember too much of what Kunti said after she had confessed. But when she left, Draupadi and I left our hiding place and stood before him.

When I stood in front of him, all I could see was that he was the child of the Sun god. Suryadev. Then, it all made sense. The irremovable armour and earrings—golden, eternally glinting. The talent. All three of us stood in silence.

Suryaputra Karna looked distraught. In all these decades of our friendship, it was the worst state I had ever seen him in; and I had seen him in a variety of states by that point in time. Slowly, his eyes met mine.

"Come," said he, a palm outstretched. I took it. Draupadi followed. Karna swiftly turned to her and said, "You will forgive me, Maharani, but I wish to speak with my sakhi alone."

In all our time together, I had never seen Draupadi look so hurt. Regardless, she did not object.

Hastily, he guided the two of us through a set of colonnades, whose darkness hid us perfectly.

We stood in perfect silence while he breathed heavily.

"I knew it." His voice broke. "I knew it! For all the times that I was hissed at for being the son of the charioteer, I knew I wasn't and now I know the truth." He let out a caustic laugh which made me squeeze his palm. "Is this what redemption is, Mrinali? Or is it vindication? I feel so—so relieved. And so horrified."

"What else do you feel?" I croaked.

He clicked his tongue, fury rippling off of him in waves. "I hate her. She told me when it was convenient for her. She puts me in a dilemma just before the war!" He exclaimed. There was so much emotion in his voice. It moved me.

He went on for a while until he finally burst into tears. I held him through all of it. "The gods are testing me. But why me? Why? I asked for none of this."

"You will be rewarded for this." I promised, saying anything that could alleviate his pain at that moment.

Later, I would remember these words and be filled with hatred. Hatred towards myself, gods, fate. I would be angry and unforgiving. My friend, who found himself sucked into a vortex of curses and misfortune. Left by his own mother, the cause of all his pain. What had he done?

Later, I would hurt. Additionally, I would make everyone else hurt too.

But in that moment, I coaxed my friend into stability as much as I could, brought him back to where Draupadi stood.

When we returned to her, both our eyes were red with tears. She looked at both of us, eyes wide.

"May I speak with you, Maharani? I wish to make things right between us." Karna spoke.

Draupadi looked at me first. When I did not protest, she nodded and they went away.

In the time that they were gone, I wondered what they were upto. When we were younger, there had been an attraction between them. I was sure of that much. However, after everything that had happened, I was skeptical.

When they returned, my sister's hair was even more unkempt than usual, as if someone had tousled it. As was Karna's hair. And they both seemed out of breath. If anyone needs three guesses to understand what happened, they are fools.

I did not reproach any of them, no matter how morally incorrect their actions were. I believe it was the closure and climax that was needed. During our farewell, the two of them gazed at the other with an intensity I had never seen.

Life can give heart attacks. But love also has a way of surprising a person.

On our way back, Draupadi relayed to me everything Karna had told Kunti. When she told me Karna had promised his birth mother that she would have five living sons after the war was over, I finally vomited over the side of my horse.

The consequences of the war and Kunti's secret had finally caught up with me. 

*****

The night before the war saw me being unusually restless; with good reason.

We were as ready as we could possibly be. We had mustered seven armies. Unfortunately, the enemy had eleven to their name. It filled me with dismay but everyone was confident that we would win.

Of course, we would. Arjun's charioteer for the war was Vishnu himself. A god was on our side. No, the outcome was not what worried me. What did worry me was the cost we would have to pay for that victory.

We paid the price. Bhagwan knows, we did. We kept paying the price for it for the rest of our lives.

*****

The last dinner before the war was a grand affair. I, however, found it to be extremely uncomfortable. Beside me, my father and brother dined. They were willing participants in the war.

My father had paid no heed to my plea against participating in the war. The idea of my aged father battling for his daughter's family made me sick. His priority should have been Vrikesh but here he was. I was upset but I did not wish to fight. So I extinguished my concerns and tried my best to enjoy the last heartening meal with my father. Then I excused myself to the tent set up for me at the war camp.

That night, Arjun slipped into my tent.

I looked on, expectantly, as he quietly slid between the covers, settling in beside me. Then he turned to face me and gathered me close.

"Why is it that you have decided to join me tonight?" I mumured in his ear.

My husband groaned his exhaustion, pulling me closer. "I have spent enough nights with Subhadra and Panchali. It is time to return to you."

I could only manage a feeble smile.

We had hardly spoken since the exile was over. I had no clue how he truly felt about the war.

"Are you worried?" I asked, closing my eyes.

Arjun only hummed his affirmation. "Regardless, we will triumph, my dear. We will triumph."

I hummed too.

We both fell asleep amidst the soft thrum of the readying battalions.

*****

My dear readers, what can I say about the first day of war? All the men in my life were going into battle. It was a devastating thought. With a tight heart, we did the pooja, prayed for our fortune and sent them packing.

Draupadi, Subhadra and I climbed a knoll in order to get a view of the battlefield. Kunti and Uttara, Abhimanyu's young and pregnant wife, stayed behind.

Settled on our perch high above where the battle was taking place, we gazed upon the two collected armies. The Kaurava contingent was massive. Rows of infantry and cavalry made up their ranks, as far as the eye could see. I felt a twinge of despair while looking upon the sight.

Draupadi, seated in the middle, grabbed mine and Subhadra's palms. She squeezed my palm. Without looking at either of us, but concentrating on the armies, she said, "We will make it through this, sisters."

The silence spoke enough of the solidarity in her declaration.

The three of us sat, palms still connected, as the conch shells were blown. Behold, this was our state for the next seventeen days.