THREE
Duryodhana has not had the satisfaction of seeing Karna kill Arjuna. He had seen how Karna had Nakula at his mercy and spared the Pandava’s life: he says nothing about these to his friend. Bheeshma and Drona he would have accused of being partial to the Pandavas, but he can never utter a harsh word to Karna. Moreover, the Kaurava is convinced Karna is as disappointed as he is that Arjuna remains alive.
After the day’s battle, just when they are about to retire to their tents for the evening ablutions, Karna takes his king’s hand and says, “Arjuna fights magnificently, but tomorrow I will kill him.”
Duryodhana embraces his Senapati. “You will, Karna, I know you will.”
Late that night, Karna comes alone to Duryodhana’s tent. Complete certainty is upon him that this will be his last night in the world. He is calm and as always, they plan the next day’s strategy together. Then, Karna leans forward and says in his intense way, “There is only one way this war can be won. Tomorrow, my friend, I will either kill Arjuna, or die in the attempt. Duryodhana, tomorrow the world will see, once and forever, who its best archer is.
Both he and I have astras we can summon, of the four kinds. He has the Gandiva, renowned in the corners of the world; but my Vijaya, which Bhargava gave me, is the greater weapon. What few men know is that Viswakarman once made the Vijaya for Indra and the king of the Devas gave my master the bow. My prince, tomorrow, with Arjuna dead, the world will lie at your feet.”
He pauses, frowning. Duryodhana says, “Something disturbs you, Karna?”
“Yes. One must not underestimate one’s adversary. Arjuna’s silver quivers are magical, inexhaustible. His chariot is unearthly and his horses are gandharva steeds. He has Hanuman’s blessing. Have you observed his banner? Hanuman emblazoned on it is alive: I have seen his eyes watch the war, I have heard him roar! And then, of course, there is the most telling advantage Arjuna has, the one without which he would have long since been dead: Krishna is his sarathy. You have seen him drive those horses, Duryodhana. He is like the mind, quicker. Every time our arrows fly straight for Arjuna’s throat or his heart, suddenly we find him gone from where he was a moment ago. Krishna has spirited him away.
I have no sarathy to match Krishna. All else being equal, even if I am the better archer, how can I kill the Pandava when the Dark One guides his horses?”
Duryodhana asks, “Is there no one in our army who can match Krishna as a sarathy?”
“There is one man. But will he agree to be a sutaputra’s charioteer?”
“Who is he, Karna?”
Karna says, “Shalya. He is twice the sarathy Krishna is. Shalya is to charioteers what Karna is among archers! Krishna knows the aswahridaya, but Shalya is a master of the arcane art. If Shalya will drive my horses tomorrow, Arjuna will not escape with his life. But Shalya is a king and proud; it will not be easy to persuade him. Yet, there is no one on earth like Duryodhana to persuade any man. The very war may depend on it.”
Duryodhana says, “He won’t refuse me, Karna! Shalya shall drive your horses. Now go and sleep, you must be fresh for tomorrow. It will be your great day and the world will know that not Arjuna but peerless Karna is its finest bowman: and that he won the war for Duryodhana. What could be more fitting? Only so you could win the world for me, Bheeshma has fallen and Drona has died!”
Tears in their eyes, they embrace again. Karna lingers on in Duryodhana’s tent. How many nights they have spent talking and drinking into the small hours: baring their souls to each other. Tonight, Karna knows, will be the last one. For a while he stays on, chatting of this and that, of the times they have shared. Then, reluctantly, he rises to go. He walks to the tent-flap and turns back to clasp Dury-odhana again. They hold each other for a long moment, before Karna breaks away and strides out into the darkness.
Visions of the past fill the night for Karna, alone in his tent. He sees his life vividly before his eyes; and he has no doubt that tomorrow he will die. He sees his mother Radha, his tender years with her. He lies quietly in the dark and allows himself to be borne away on the crystal tide of memories. At last, those memories have no power to hurt him. He is a serene witness to his own past: almost as if he watched another man’s life being played out before his eyes.
Then, the anxiety of what he has sworn to do snatches him back from calm. Karna knows Arjuna will kill him tomorrow, as he was always destined to; but he will never admit Arjuna is his superior.
No, it is not skill that will give his brother victory, but the light he is enfolded in, from the beginning; while Karna’s life was plunged in darkness since its first day. Karna sees his mother Kunti now, as she came to him at the river. He feels her fingers caress his cheek, he hears her sob. How futile his life has been; and tomorrow it would end. Somehow, that is so hard to accept: all that could have been and never was, torments Karna. And because of the Dark One who held his horses’ reins, the reins of his very fate, Arjuna would triumph.
Karna had lied to Duryodhana. But how could he tell his friend it was later than he imagined, that all was already lost? He could have told him before the war began that the side Krishna was on could never lose. But how could he break his heart? The only way he could break the truth to the Kaurava was by dying.
Tomorrow, Shalya might agree to be his sarathy. What was Shalya before blue Krishna? Besides, Shalya hated Karna. Karna tries to thrust aside the darkness that threatens to choke him. Inevitably, his mind wanders back to his guru Bhargava. The scar on his thigh throbs icily, where once the insect fed as his master lay asleep with his head in his lap. Before his waking eyes, Karna sees Bhargava again. He hears his voice pronounce his curse. ‘When you are faced with your most implacable enemy, you will forget the mantras for the devastras!’
He thinks back to the cow he killed on the deserted beach: the brahmana’s curse, ‘Your chariot-wheels shall be mired on the day of your greatest battle. And you will be shot down when you are helpless, just as you have shot my cow today.’
Yes, he has no doubt, as he allows his memories to bear him far from Kurukshetra, that he will die tomorrow. He submits to the clear swell, it washes the last resistance from him. He sees Krishna’s face, black eyes full of mercy; again and again, he sees that face and Karna feels deeply consoled. He feels ready to die, or nearly so.
But he must face Yudhishtira, once, before he does Arjuna. He must conquer him, as well: so Kunti would know that he had spared the lives of her four sons. In his own mind, it was his way of telling them he was their brother. After he died and they learnt who he was, they would cherish the memory. And brilliant Arjuna, the memory of having killed him.
Shifting at will, the visionary night bears him through his whole life, starkly, gently, until he feels his deepest rancor dissolve. Karna is at strange peace when, an hour before dawn, he falls into a dreamless sleep.