Karna - The Mahabharata Chronicles #17 - Part 2

Dambodhbhava meditated with just one single thought in his mind. He was invoking Surya with a specific intention. He wanted to conquer all the three worlds and become the all supreme King or God, if he so pleased.  Surya observed the man meditating upon him. He could sense that there was something amiss about this hardcore penance. Sooner or later, he would have to appear in front of him and give him what he sought.

He finally bestowed his presence and appeared before Dambodhbhava. After the usual prostrations of prayer and blessings, Surya asked his devotee what he sought. The king looked at him slyly and said what was in mind.  Immortality. Surya shook his head and said that he could not grant that particular boon but asked the king to choose anything else instead. This was the chance that Dambodhbhava was waiting for. He knew that immortality was not a boon that would be granted, and therefore his plan was entirely different.

He looked up at the sun-god and laid down the specific conditions of the boon he sought.

One - he had to be bestowed a thousand armors.

Two - the armors would be invincible to the extent that only a person who has undergone rigorous penance for a thousand years could break the armor and kill him.

And finally, three - whoever broke his armor, would fall dead the next instant.

This was a boon akin to immortality and Surya knew it. There was no choice but to grant it and ensure that down the years, someone would make the asura realize his folly.

Years passed and Dambodhbhava’s atrocities grew. He plundered kingdoms, and harassed everyone including the Devas, wreaking havoc in all the worlds. As his notoriety spread and fear ensued, people started calling him – Sahasrakavacha – the one with a thousand armors.  

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Murti looked at her sons. They were the very epitome of calm, unlike other children their age. More so, they were unlike any other children she had ever seen. Their actions mirrored each other as well as their thoughts. They had an innate sense of understanding and what one was thinking, the other would be doing it. They were but for all purposes one soul in two bodies. She could see them now, one practicing archery and the other meditating. She could sense their minds attuned to the same wavelength. They were preparing for what was coming their way. For their purpose on earth was far bigger than anything else. Her husband had made that mighty clear to her. And she was attuned to it too.

Nara, pulled back his bow string, locked in his arrow and glanced at his brother. As if he could sense his mother’s and brother’s eyes on him, Narayana, opened his eyes and looked at them. The brothers smiled in unison at their mother and went back to their actions.

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News of course travelled fast, and it was not long before Dambodhbhava heard the story of the ascetic brothers and visited them. He sought them out in the dense forest and took in their appearances and the surroundings they were in. Looking at the sinewy sages, he haughtily invited them to a duel.

Narayana looked at Nara. This was the moment they were waiting for. Nara took up his arms and charged at Dambodhbhava, who was now in his true demonic form. The fight went on for a thousand years with neither of them yielding. At one point when it looked like Sahasrakavacha was getting the upper hand, Nara, took a swinging blow and the asura’s first armor broke. And with that, Nara dropped dead. Sahasrakavacha was astounded. More than Nara falling dead, he was stunned to see his armor break. As soon as Narayana saw Nara dead, he ran to him and whispered a mantra. And Nara woke up right as rain and steady on his feet.

                                  [pic courtesy: https://www.quora.com/Was-Karna-the-reincarnation-of-the-demon-Dambhodbhava]

Sahasrakavacha could not believe his eyes. If losing his first armor was a bolt out of the blue to him, this was nothing less of a shock. He understood then that the brothers had undertaken rigorous penance and received the Maha Mrityunjaya Mantra as a boon from Lord Shiva. He understood the essence of the duel now. This time, Narayana took up his arms and Nara sat down to meditate.

Another thousand years. Another armor. Another resurrection.

This went on until there 999 armors broke. When the 999^th armor broke and Nara fell dead, the demon king ran for refuge to the bestower of his boon - Surya.

Narayana soon revived Nara and the two sages gave chase to the king.

Surya stood in front of them with folded hands and told them that, the asura was his devotee and since he had sought asylum at his feet, he could not hand over Sahasrakavacha to the sages. Blinded with anger, the sages cursed Surya that he would be born as a human in the Dvapara Yuga. Surya agreed for he knew what lay ahead as did all the Gods in the pantheon.

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Surya now looked at the young man, rushing towards the avatars of Narayana and Indra, the trails blazing beneath his chariot wheels. There were just a few hours left for sunset, and unfortunately what would be this soul’s last battle on earth.

Or maybe it was fortunate in a way. Who was to know?

[to be continued]

Karna - The Mahabharata Chronicles #17 - Part 1.

The sunlight glinted off his chest. The armor shone like burnished gold against his taut arms. It had seen plenty of battles and yet it hadn’t lost its shine, leave alone a scratch upon it. It still shone like new. Over years it had melted into him, almost becoming one with his self. He knew it had yet to see the biggest and the most important battle of its time. 

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Narayana looked at Nara, sharpening his weapons. Preparing himself for the gruesome days ahead. He could see the resigned look on his face, as though he was being pushed to do something against his will. Neither of them had much choice. This battle that they would ride into, would be the harbinger of dharma. And for that, blood had to be shed. Mother Earth had to be appeased, for all the adharma that had sapped out her benevolence. In a lot of ways and for a lot of people this would be the culmination of their chance at moksha or yet another few lifetimes of nibhandana.

Nara looked at Narayana and a message of deep understanding passed through them.

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He could sense his end was nearing. There were plenty of flashes about his past that came in his dreams. And the two men who frequented it. They adorned ascetic garb, yet there was something quite regal about their bearing. Their eyes shone with ancient wisdom and their actions seemed like one mirrored the others’ thoughts. For all purposes, it seemed like they were one soul in two bodies.

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Surya looked down at his progeny. The one he had sworn to protect. The one who had sought asylum in him when he knew that his end was nearing. And yet after a few hundred years, when The Preserver had come to him, seeking that his amsa be sent to Earth to play a part in the circumstances that would lead to the end of the Dwapara Yuga and the beginning of the Kali Yuga, he had seen it as a chance to save his devotee from eternal damnation as well as liberation from his promise and curse. A promise that he had not really thought through when he had granted it. A curse that he had no choice but to bear. He still shuddered at the thought of it and the havoc it could have caused, had it not been for the sages.

Now was his chance to set things right.

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It was the 11^th day.

This war had taken a major toll on both sides. The great-sire Bhishma had fallen and Drona was now commander as per his suggestion to his friend.

When Drona fell on the 15^th day, he knew that the onus was upon him. His king was counting on him. And he couldn’t let him down. But more than that, this was his time in the sun. This was the moment he was waiting for, to show the world who the better warrior was. To showcase his prowess and finally gain the recognition he was seeking for.

[Art by jubjubjedi on Deviantart]

His time to shine had finally come. He rode into battle in full glory. He had his eyes only on one target. But to get to him would be a mammoth task and he knew it. He had many hurdles in his way and he had to cross each one of them, making sure that the promises he had given were kept. He had had to use his Shakthi against Ghatotkacha, but he still had plenty of weapons to ensure that he slew his target. Mindful of the promises he had given, the charity that was forced upon him, he rode into battle on the 16^th day and wreaked havoc.

On day 17, he finally came face to face with his nemesis.

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He saw them riding into the battlefield, towards him, the flag of Hanuman flying high. The chariot being driven by Krishna and Arjuna, his head held high, the focus in his eyes unmistakable. His eyes were playing tricks on him, surely. From the far distance, he thought they were wearing ascetic garbs and not the battlefield armor. He blinked his eyes, the vision too strong and saw them again. They looked remarkably similar to the two men from his dreams. What had he heard them call each other? It was eluding his memory. As soon as they came closer, the mirage cleared and he saw that they were wearing battlefield armor.

Nara! Narayana! He recalled the names in a flash!

He saw the chariot speeding towards him, driven by Narayana while Nara took up arms and readied himself for the battle.

He could see Narayana mouthing a name from the distance.

Sahasrakavacha – the one with a thousand armors.

The irony! 

He had just given away his last armor as charity to Indra.

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[to be continued...] 

Ghatotkacha, Son of Bheemasena - The Mahabharata Chronicles #9

I see a bright shaft of light.

It penetrates into me. It engulfs my entire being with its vibrancy. It dulls the ache that I have been carrying in my gut ever since I can remember.

It is always the same dream. Each time towards the break of dawn. Every time the same feeling of peace.

I have pondered much about it. I have asked everyone I could think of about what it means, starting with my mother and all the learned men who passed through my land. The closest I came to getting an answer for what seemed like more as mollification to my incessant questioning was from father’s cousin – Achyutha.

“The answer shall be revealed to you when it’s the right time.”

When the right time was, or how soon it was, he never bothered to expound on it. I put the dream out of my mind, suppressed the dull ache inside of me, and went about my life. And there was nothing that I could about this, now that he had told me to wait. Apparently, self-restraint was something I had to learn yet.

HE was always like that. Enigmatic. Pragmatic. Possessor of many epithets.

Out of all his monikers, my favorite was Achyutha. Meaning the infallible. In my eyes, there was nothing that he did not know and nothing that he could not do. Achyutha was someone I looked up to a lot. He was a father figure and brother all rolled into one.

My father was Bheemasena. Son of the wind god. I had very few chances of spending time with my father who visited us very rarely. Hidimbavana where I grew up was called so after my mother who was reigning queen of the forest. It was a place that humans rarely frequented. My mother, Hidimbaa, brought me up on a steady diet of stories about his valor and prowess. How he vanquished her brother Hidimba, and usurped her heart. How a single shout from him could stun the living daylights out of most living things. Those rare instances that he visited us in the forest, he used to regale me with stories, about the clan that I was a part of, about far-flung lands where evil was wreaking havoc, about his cousins and how they were making things difficult for all of us. These occasional visits always left me craving for more. Sometimes, he brought his brothers along. Those days were fun. I learnt a lot as I was growing up, training with father and uncles, listening to old anecdotes some of which centered on my birth and their experiences in the forests.

Out of all the tales that I heard, my favorite one was the one about my birth. Father told me, rubbing my pate affectionately that they had named me Ghatotkacha because of the round bald pot-like head that I sported. My uncle Arjuna told me how stunned all were when I became an almost full-grown child within the span of a few minutes owing of the rakshasa blood in me. He remarked how they had to use an arrow casing to cut off the umbilical cord because of how strong and thick it was. I liked that story the best of all. It made me proud of how strong I was and filled me with a sense of superiority. I remember commenting to Achyutha that the dull gnawing in my stomach was probably because of the arrow casing they used. He would look at me in a strange way and then pull my leg saying that it was probably because of hunger and tease me calling me a glutton. Momentary though it was, I could never discern what that gleam in his eyes was.

My life in the forest passed quite uneventfully, except for these rare bouts of our family get-togethers. When I matured into a full-grown rakshasa, mother handed over the rule of the forest to me. She only gave me a very crucial piece of advice. To always, serve my father, regardless of what he asked me to do. She secured a promise from me that I would always attend to my father’s summons any time, whenever he thought of me irrespective of day or night. I only received his summons twice ever in my life. Once when he and his brothers, along with grandmother Kunti and Draupadi ma, were on a forest pilgrimage and stranded upon a mountain, tired from the journey.

The other, during the war at Kurukshetra.

The second time I sensed my father’s summons, I remember my mother eyeing at me with a look akin to apprehension upon her striking features. I asked her what was worrying her and she said that I was at last going to receive answers to my queries. It filled me with a sense of foreboding, yet as I took leave of her, I fell at her feet seeking her blessings. She blessed me that my fame and recognition would spread far and wide because of my abilities on the field.  I kissed my son and wife, and left them to the protection of my clan and proceeded to answer my father’s summons.

Kurukshetra was a place like none other. I fumed as I stood on the battlefield and surveyed the damage wrought by kin and brethren upon each other. My entire being filled with rage as I saw the amount of destruction that was lying in front of my eyes. I saw my eldest uncle, whose favorite I was, slumped in his chariot, unable to see the carnage. I saw my cousin’s frail body, elegant even in death, held by Arjuna, seemingly stunned at the demise of his progeny. I then saw my father. He was looking up at me. I saw in his eyes a fear and a worry for having brought me in to the field. I sensed in him the burden that he was forced to bear seeking for my support yet fearing for my life much like Abhimanyu’s. Then quite suddenly, I felt a calming presence next to me. I turned to see Achyutha, standing beside me, his eyes filled with tears. In all my life, I had never seen HIM like this. For once, he seemed at a loss for words. Yet I knew what he wanted to say. For once, I knew his words even before he spoke them.

It was turning dark. The sun had gone down and now it was time for the first son of the Pandavas to take the limelight. I grew to my full size, summoned all my powers and started smashing the Kaurava army to smithereens. I spared no man and no beast. I turned savage, calling upon the rakshasa blood in me.

[Pic Courtesy - http://molee.deviantart.com/]

And then I saw him. Scion of Surya. Holding in his hands the arrow that was destined to destroy the hopes of the Pandavas. The one that Karna was saving for Arjuna, Indra’s weapon, the Shakti.

I glanced at Achyutha. I saw that his eyes were downcast; his shoulders slumped with the agony of what was in his mind. He sensed me eyeing him, looked up at me and raised his hands in a benevolent gesture.

I nodded my head to show that I understood. I had no regrets. If this was what my Achyutha wanted for me, I would gladly take it, no questions asked.

I heard the twang of Karna’s bow and saw him fitting the arrow to it.

I expected to see death staring at my face, but to my surprise, I felt a tug in my gut. This was it. I knew. My moment of truth.

I have saved the Pandavas and my clan from imminent defeat. I have left my mark on this world and this battlefield. I sent a silent thought to my mother, wife and my son, looked up to the heavens, grew to the most gargantuan size that I could muster and turned to face my adversary.

I see the Shakti in all its glory. It is now a bright shaft of light. It seeks to permeate me. It strives to dull the ache in my gut.

Over the horizon, I see the sun starting his ascent. The streak of dawn is now a vivid orange.

The shaft found its mark and its energy engulfed me.

Somewhere I heard HIS voice;

“The casing that Arjuna used when you were born belonged to the arrow. Try as we did, we could not stop it from entering your navel when we cut off the umbilical cord. The arrow has found its home at last.  This is how it was to be. This is how it is supposed to conclude.”

I smiled. I had now gotten the answers to my incessant questions.  

Finally, I am at peace. 

Yagnaseni - The Mahabharata Chronicles #1

Yagnaseni they called her. The one born out of fire. The virtuous one. The one whose fate was linked with the harbingers of change. The one who was both a blessing and a curse. Blessing to the people and curse to her father. Or so she had been told. She had heard that when she arose in front of him, he “blessed” her with unhappiness, sorrow, misunderstandings and strife for the better part of her life.

There wasn’t much that she remembered about her birth. All she had felt was a searing heat from the flames that were licking around her and then a sudden thrust out of it. She had almost fallen out of the fire, much rather being born out of it, much like an after-thought of the GODS.

                                         [Pic Courtesy: nisachar.deviantart.com]

Daughter she was, to the famed king – Drupad. Princess of Panchal and twin sister to the Crown Prince, her brother, Dhristadyumna, who had stepped out of the fire, gracefully and leonine like as desired by her father. She who was endowed with a heart-shaped face; skin that shone like burnished copper, lustrous hair that fell down to wide hips that swayed when she walked and a pretty smile that framed her luscious lips. She who the world called the most beautiful. Her childhood, she remembered, was bound by rules and bogged down by actions that befit a princess. She chafed at the shackles that restrained her and craved for a freedom that was only heightened by the curiosity that played around in her mind. Questions that remained unanswered. Or ones that were answered with other questions.

And the one, who did that the most with her, was the one she considered as her soul mate.

Her Govind. The one who affixed her with the female form of his own name – Krishnaa – the dark skinned one. Friend, guide, philosopher and roguish imp all rolled into one. The one she always turned to when in strife, in sorrow, and the first one she shared with when in joy, in delight and in revelry. The one who gave her support and the one who quietened her ever-questioning mind. The one who knew her best. The one who wanted the best for her. The one who told her to reject Karna.

Karna. King of Anga. Loyal friend to the scion of the Kaurava clan. Cherished disciple of the Rama with the axe. Famed archer rumoured to even best Arjuna. Son of a Suta.

The first memory she had of him, was that of him seated in the competitor arena for her swayamvar. She remembered that moment like it had just happened then.

Skin that shone like he was drunk on the rays of the sun. Well chiselled and marked body. The warrior stance. Strong arms. And his eyes. The gaze that was steadfast yet with raged with an intensity that made them come alive. Eyes those were flecked by golden flames.

She recognized the fervour that burned in his eyes and his belly. The passion to prove to the world that he was here to accomplish great things. She knew that was what it was because the very same fire burned within her. He had looked at her just once. Glanced rather. She felt taken in by his intent look. Felt the quiver of butterflies in her tummy. The gaze that stripped her naked, yet cloaked her with a protectiveness that she hadn’t felt before, all in the span of a single moment. This was unlike anything that she had felt before. This was a thousand times stronger than any flickers of infatuation that she may have felt. Ten thousand times even. This was a raging blaze. In that one glance that they had shared, she had known that he was the one for her. And yet she had rejected him. Except without knowing why. On the basis of the fact that he was a charioteer’s son.

Because HE told her to. Because she trusted in HIM blindly. Because HE knew her best. Because HE wanted the best for her. Because HE told her to reject Karna. Her Govind.

But now, standing in front of the entire Kuru clan, shamed, dishevelled and disrobed, she couldn’t help wondering. Did she make the right choice back then? Is this what was BEST for her?

Here she was, married to the illustrious, almost godly Pandavas and not one of them could save her from this mortification. Would Karna have let this happen to her? Would he have just sat there, head bowed, with down-cast eyes, unable to bear the humiliation that was being meted out to her? Somehow she didn’t think so.

Sure. He was standing on the OTHER side now. He was the one who had provoked the vile Dusshasan to do what he just did. He was the one who called her unchaste. He was the one who stood there mocking at their plight. This was his vengeance and her come-uppance for the way she had treated him at her swayamvar. It didn’t justify in any way that what he was doing to her was much worse than what he could / would / may have felt. And yet she saw a hint of remorse in his eyes. For the words that he spoke. For the way he had behaved. And as much as she wanted to hate him with her entire being, she couldn’t bring herself to.

And she realized that in some way, he knew it too. That he was aware of the consequences of this. And that even though he may have had a choice, he couldn’t bring himself to make it. That in some way he anticipated the repercussions. Morbidly even looked forward to it.

And so she forgave him. Forgave just him. For the dastardly act that he was being a part of. For the terrible violation that had just been enacted out in the palace court for all and sundry to see.

For now SHE knew what was coming.  The purpose of HER birth. The very reason for HER existence. She was slated to be the harbinger that would cleanse the world of the vileness that inhabited it.

Perhaps, this was the way it was meant to be.

Perhaps, this is what happens when a shard pierces the heart.

That one sliver coursing its way through the entire system.

Taking along with it all that brought down to this moment.

This very moment. Where it all ends. And where it all begins.

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Disclaimer: This is solely my viewpoint and a fictionalized attempt on my idea of what Draupadi may / may not have felt. Written on the basis of inspiration by articles and stories and books that I have read on this subject and legends that suggested she may have loved Karna and events that transpired in the Mahabharata. I do not claim this to be true in any way. J