Karna lounged in the lavish guest room that Ashwatthama had allocated for him, ignoring his request for a plain one that befitted his status. Strange, for Ashwatthama knew that Karna had always preferred simple living. Had the crown on his head made him forget this? Or was this another one of Ashwatthama's useless attempts to shield him from the questioning looks in the eyes of commoners and noblemen alike. Three days had passed since he had arrived and he was not unaware of the uproar that his surprise visit had caused. He had not been seen for an entire year by anyone in Bharatvarsh and now he had suddenly appeared out of thin air at Northern Panchala where his friend lived. The only one with whom he could share his distress, the only one he knew who would not spurn him when he saw him at his doorstep.
The month of Ashada had brought the monsoon winds early, covering the blue sky with dark, heavy crowds pregnant with rain. He stared at the sky, mesmerized, barely noticing the ecclesiastical servant who waited and then coughed aloud to garner his attention. With proper intonation he announced, "Maharaja requests your presence in the Guest Hall."
Karna nodded at him and followed him out to where Ashwatthama stood chatting with his chief minister. Both men smiled upon his entry.
"Pranam, Maharathi Karna."
With folded hands and a bowed head, the aging minister greeted him. Karna raised an eyebrow at Ashwatthama and accepted the gracious welcome. They exchanged a few pleasantries and then the Chief Minister left in a hurry, citing some important work.
"What's with him?" Karna asked, confused at the minister's strange behavior.
"Bhadran is excited, much like the rest of the kingdom. He has left to make preparations for the day after tomorrow."
"Why? What's going on?"
Ashwatthama handed him a letter painted with the royal insignia of Dwarka. "Vasudev Krishna sent this. It is his wish to stay here in Panchala for a few days. He has requested that you and I accompany him on his journey to Hastinapura next week."
Karna was surprised. He had been planning to leave for Krishna's kingdom in a few days since Krishna had insisted that he would take care of his questionable appearance in Hastinapura. And why shouldn't he? He had as much part in this predicament as Karna did. Still, he had no idea how Krishna was going to explain his presence to the Pandavas who Karna was sure hated him with the intensity of a thousand infernos. And what about the Kauravas? What would Krishna say to them? And more importantly, why would they listen to a man who they had insulted as a trickster in the royal court, in the presence of King Dhritrashtra.
While countless questions like these bubbled inside his mind he watched as the kingdom was adorned like a young bride to welcome the charismatic Krishna, who bards had already proclaimed as the eight avatar of Lord Vishnu. Bhadran looked like he would suffer a stroke from anxiety as his eyes searched the horizon for the contingent from Dwarka. Ashwatthama, eager and pleased to have the honor of hosting Krishna, busied himself in the preparations, staying up late at night to check everything. He had to force Dronaputra to get some sleep, assuring him that all will go well. Anticipation mingled with anxiety and the kingdom waited with bated breath for the arrival of the man whose divinity knew no bounds.
The day finally came and hundreds of citizens gathered in the streets to catch a glimpse of Krishna's chariot. Men and women had their arms full of flowers to be rained at Krishna, musicians played instruments that lulled the city with their melody and children climbed the highest trees to see him much to the chagrin of their mothers. Ashwatthama, Bhadran and several others had gone to welcome him right at the city outskirts as was custom. Karna stayed behind with the rest of the noblemen who had thankfully been so enamoured by Krishna that they had completely forgotten his presence.
He watched as hundreds of carriages entered the main city and behind them was the five point chariot that carried Krishna, Ashwatthama and other dignitaries from Dwarka. With his palms folded, Krishna graciously accepted the welcome that was bestowed to him by Ashwatthama's subjects. His smile was sweeter than the sweetest nectarines, his face glowed with life and joy and his eyes shone with an unworldly radiance as if all the mysteries of the universe rested in them. Enchanted by his sanctity, dazzled by his spirit, heads bowed in reverence to him and he blessed each one of them.
When he finally reached him, Karna joined his hands in deference, but Krishna clasped them with his own and shook his head. A moment of stillness stretched for eternity in which all Karna did was stare at Krishna's eyes that shone with deific clarity, reminding him of his Guru Parashuram. How had Krishna achieved that level of sagacity that had taken his mentor decades to earn? That too at such a young age? What was it that he knew that the rest of the world did not? Before each could say a word to another, Krishna was swept away by hordes of courtiers to the royal dining hall where a state lunch had been organized in his honor. His devotees and the rest of Ashwatthama's noblemen followed behind him, still in awe, leaving him alone with his friend on the palace steps.
"I had never expected that such a day would come again. Do you remember how Duryodhana had insulted him when he had come with the offer of reconciliation?", Ashwatthama whispered in his ear.
Karna nodded. As if anyone present in that assembly would ever forget.
"Come along, my presence is necessary for the banquet to commence."
"You go. I will visit in the evening."
Before Ashwatthama could argue Karna slipped away, taking the route back to his guest house. He knew it was impolite to not partake in a banquet organized in someone's honour, but he had an inkling that Krishna would understand. He had never been very keen on such things, and Duryodhana would more or less have to drag him to these useless ceremonies where he barely mingled with anyone. Not that anyone was particularly interested, he was after all, despite whatever Duryodhana may say, a charioteer's son.
He had almost reached the guesthouse when a woman approached him. Her face shrouded in a ghunghat, she fell down at his feet and asked for his blessings. Bewildered, he blessed the child and startled when he saw her trembling, washing his feet with her tears.
"Child, who are you?", he asked.
The woman stood up, removed her ghunghat and stared at him with her dark, brown orbs, looking oddly familiar. Her lower lip trembled and her face was set in love and admiration, pure emotions that one sees very rarely in life.
"Do you not recognise me, Uncle Vasu?"
At her charming voice, recognition flooded through him and he took a step back trying to layer the memory of that sweet young girl who followed him around the castle on her little legs to this mature, beautiful woman, so confident and assured in her femininity.
"Lakshmana!" He gasped and watched as her eyes brightened and a smile broke through her lips. She nodded and bent down to touch his feet again. He smiled and placed his hand on her head, calling on his father, the Sun God to bless her and her husband.
"How much you have grown, Lakshmana. You are the splitting image of your mother, Queen Bhanumathi.". His voice cracked as he remembered how Lakshmana would trail him like a shadow whenever he visited, forcing him to take her in his lap and tell her stories of his friendship with Duryodhana. She, a Kuru princess, would enter the royal kitchens and make sweets, something she never did for her own parents, and offer them to him, smiling widely when he praised her skills. Her careless laughter, her free spirit, she was the amalgamation of her parents' personalities- sweet, careful, considerate like her mother but also bold, strong and confident like her father.
"Uncle Vasu, I have missed you terribly." She admitted and broke down again.
He placed a hand on her shoulders gently. 'I've missed you too, my child.".
He guided her to an empty bench in the well- maintained garden but she refused to sit alongside him choosing instead to drop at his feet. He felt deeply uncomfortable, she was a Kuru Princess and the daughter-in-law of the Yadavas and he was..........well nothing anymore. It was highly inappropriate for a royal lady of her standing and he tried to convey this to her but she refused outright, squashing his attempts before he even had a chance to test them.
"Uncle Vasu, how can I sit as your equal? You are my father's best friend and my dearest uncle. Tell me which cursed daughter would ever dream to disrespect her uncle like that?" Lakshmana asked him, wiping the corner of her eyes with the edge of her saree.
"Your affection for me has always astounded me, Lakshmana. But today I am speaking to the bahu of the Yadavas. Your station does not permit you to kneel in front of me. I am no longer the King of Anga."
"What? Tell me, Uncle Vasu, do you believe my affection arose only out of respect for your title? Do you think that your relinquishing the throne of Anga in any way lessens my devotion to you? No uncle , I have always been convinced of your nobility and of your generosity that is famed throughout the world. Please don't agitate me with your request, for there is no force on earth that can ever make me treat you with anything other than profound respect."
In that moment, Lakshmana resembled her father, like him her face was set in unshakable determination and Karna knew that any further attempts were futile. He smiled at the young woman and she smiled back, triumphant of her victory.
"Tell me my child, how does married life treat you?" He asked, knowing full well the difficult circumstances in which her marriage had taken place to Krishna's son.
Samba, who had the galls to abduct a Kuru Princess, had been thrown into jail and possibly hanged the next day if Balarama hadn't interfered. Begging forgiveness for his nephew's shameful deeds, he had brokered peace by suggesting marriage between Samba and Lakshmana, disregarding the pivotal fact that Lakshmana had never held Samba in any tenderness. Duryodhana had agreed but everyone knew that the marriage did not have his blessings and the only reason he had accepted the proposal was because no Kshatriya would accept an abducted woman. That incident had further fueled the hatred he harboured for Krishna, for he believed him to have orchestrated the whole fiasco and there was nothing anyone could do to convince him otherwise.
"I am happy, Uncle. King Balarama indulges me like a daughter, he tells me of the days he trained father and only in his presence I am able to forget the pain of separation from my family in Hastinapura. He listens to me with rapt attention and ensures that every wish of mine sees fruition. Mata Rukmini, Mara Jambavati and the other queens are so lovely and considerate and they hold me in such high esteem. Father in law is so very kind and charming and I enjoy listening to him very much. He even allows me to attend the royal assembly and sometimes he even plays his flute for me. I have found true happiness, you need not worry about me."
While Karna's heart swelled with happiness for Lakshmana, he did notice how she had conveniently not mentioned her husband in her elaborate explanation. It was obvious that Samba had been unable to secure himself in her good graces like the rest of his family. He had no regard for Samba, his deplorable conduct at Lakshmana's swayamvar had erased any bud of admiration that he would have otherwise preserved for Lakshmana's husband. But despite everything, he was Krishna's son. Surely the young man knew how lucky he was to land such a wonderful, delightful woman like Lakshmana whose smile was enough to melt the hearts of the hardest men. But then there was hardly anything he could do about this except pray that the two children worm their way into each other's heart.
"I am so happy to hear this. How much you have matured in the last few years. I can still remember how you played with your dolls and hid behind your mother's aanchal in the presence of elders. Truly, you have exhibited such wondrous grace that I am convinced you would make a fair queen.", He remarked, deeply impressed by her conduct.
She bowed her head at his praise and smiled. "How is my Aunt Vrishali? And my brothers? I hope they are well."
"They are. Your aunt misses you deeply and wishes you a world of happiness. Your brothers reminisce about their sweet sister who showered them with love and affection and tied Rakhi on their wrists. Vrihasena talks about you very often, both of you were very close were you not?"
Lakshmana closed her eyes as if remembering it all, her face glowing with positive warmth and feeling. Then suddenly a perplexed expression passed over her features. She sat up straighter, locked her fingers and gazed at him with wide, frightened eyes.
"When I heard about what happened...", she trailed off, her tone conveying the depth of her emotion, "I was stunned. But when Uncle you disappeared and no one.....no one saw or heard from you for well over a year...I thought..", she choked and covered her face with her hands. " Father in law Balarama assured me that there is no warrior equal to you but still...I was so worried. I thought that you were.....I thought..."
Something hard and heavy lodged in his throat at her admission and at her worry for him. He hadn't even paused to consider the effect of his actions on her, his mind was filled only with Duryodhana's torment , he had completely forgotten about this lovely child who loved him so deeply. He could hardly face Lakshmana. How would he bear to see the same hurt on the faces of Bhanumathi, Lakshmana Kumar, Mata Gandhari and worse of all Duryodhana?
"And then when the news came that you had come here to visit Uncle Ashwatthama, I prostrated myself in front of Father-in-law begging him to let me come. To let me see you once and quieten the heart that has cried and prayed for your welfare."
Karna's chest tightened, and he was unable to breath from the heavy burden that she had placed on his conscience. Oh Lakshmana, how sincere was she that she aggrieved for him, knowing what had happened. Her heart did not hold the slightest resentment towards him. What could he possibly say to her. What did she want to hear?
"Lakshmana, child, you must stop. Your tears hurt me far more than any weapon that has ever been pitched at me. Do not cry for my sake, for I do not deserve your unwavering admiration and know that wherever I may go, I will always pray for your happiness and prosperity.", He replied, upset at the disquietude his disappearance had caused her.
She shook her head, the corner of her mouth curving into a smile. "Let them fall. I have held them inside me for far too long. Let them fall."
"If only Bhanumathi was here. Her heart would burst from pride. You are truly one of the purest souls I have ever met." He whispered.
He caressed her cheek with his rough, worn hands as she cried her heart out, the sounds piercing him with the sharpness of a dagger. When she finally quietened down , he raised her from the ground and hugged her gently. The gods had not been generous enough to grant him one but now, in this moment he had felt so very deeply, the pure, sweet love of a daughter.
.....To be Continued