The last book I read is a
novel, The
Palace of Illusions, by Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni. Like the Mahabharata, which is retold from
the point of view of Draupadi, this novel has the potential to spark infinite
thoughts in the reader. Karna comes
across in the novel as a man of nobility, loyalty, pride and, above all, uncomplaining
acceptance of the injustices of his life.
Anger seethes within him and yet he is capable of great
forgiveness.
Destiny was particularly
harsh towards Karna. He was born of a
frivolous experiment carried out by Kunti who had not yet grown out of her
childhood but was given a boon by the irascible sage Durvasa. The boon was a mantra with which she could
invoke any god and have a son by that god.
Kunti plays with the mantra even as a child might play with her new
toy. It is none other than the sun god
whom she invokes. Karna is the
offshoot. Terrified by the disgrace that
might visit her for giving birth to a fatherless child, Kunti abandons the
infant.
The son of a god floats
down a river as a helpless bastard. His
destiny is to be found and brought up by a charioteer. Eventually he becomes the best archer around,
having taken the lessons from none less than Balaram, a god-incarnate and the
teacher of Drona. Drona, the prototype
of the Bharatiya guru, had not only refused to teach Karna but also ridiculed him
for being a low caste person. Karna
circumvented the problem of caste by using mendacity when he approached Balaram
and inherits a terrible curse for that mendacity: that the Brahamastra would be
of no use to him when it would be required.
Curses were an integral
part of Karna’s destiny. A Brahmin to
whom Karna confesses honestly his error of killing a cow unwittingly bestows on
him the curse of death in the moment of his helplessness. One curse for mendacity and another curse for
honesty. Such is Karna’s tragic destiny.
“I am not afraid of
suffering,” Karna tells Bheeshma in the novel.
“Hasn’t my entire life been one suffering after another?” From the time his mother rejected him as an
infant to the time he was shot dead treacherously by Arjun with the moral support
from Krishna, the god, Karna’s life was a protracted suffering. Rejection, ridicule, and treachery – they were
his lots.
Yet he remained
noble. To the last breath. Karna emerges a greater person than even
Krishna, the god. But the bards have
their own ways of creating heroes. Of
creating gods too.
Such is destiny. “The fates are curel,” Bheeshma tells Karna
in the novel, “and they’ve been crueller than usual to you.”
But why? Why has life to be thus? Why is life particularly cruel to some?
Because there really is no
divine order or anything of the sort. We
are all as much accidental creatures as was Karna. Thrown into life as the offshoot of a
game. It’s a game. Jawaharlal Nehru compared it to a game of
cards. “The hand you are dealt is
determinism; the way you play it is free will.”
A lot of it is destiny, in other words.
The people who come and go
in your life are often part of that destiny.
Kunti’s frivolousness was part of
Karna’s destiny. So was Drona’s snobbery. So was Balaram the god’s love for the upper
classes. The villainous Duroyadhana
turned out to be a soothing balm in that agonising destiny. Especially when Draupadi, the flame that had
begun to run like an intoxication in his veins, had questioned his
parentage. Being called a bastard in the
public even when you have proved yourself to be the best archer, the greatest
hero, the noblest human being, was also part of his destiny. Karna accepted the soothing balm given by
Duryodhana.
Kunti, his mother, proves
herself to be worse than Duryodhana when she blackmails him emotionally as the
war is about to begin. “You are my son,”
she tells him. “Don’t commit the sin of
fratricide.” She extracts some promise
from him; he will not kill her sons other than Arjun, his rival.
Kunti demeans herself by
offering Draupadi as wife to Karna. “Being
my eldest son, you can take her as your wife too.” It must have been a terrible temptation for
the man through whose veins ran the passionate love for Draupadi for years. “... worst still is this: ... I (still)
desire her! I can’t forget her shining,
haughty face at the swayamvar – ah, how many years has it been?” Karna tells Bheeshma in the novel.
But Karna knows
self-restraint. Karna knows more than
that. He knows honour. He is the noblest of them all.
Yet he will die helplessly
deceived by a god.
Such is destiny. It follows no rules. The cosmos has its own rules. Gravitation, for example. Relativity, for example. But nothing like goodness being rewarded with
goodness. Those are beliefs with which
we delude ourselves.
When it comes to man, the
best can meet with the worst experiences.
The worst may ascend to the highest positions. The true patriot may be labelled as
antinational by scoundrels and hoodlums.
The rogue sits on the holy chair and preaches morality to the
gullible. Reserved forest lands are
fenced off as holy ashrams with the help of democratically elected leaders and
their goons. The goons paste posters in
the guarded VIP alleys announcing gift for killing people professing different ideologies. The concerned minister sheds crocodile tears
in the Parliament: ah! Kunti, you are eternal.
O, Duryodhana, the
Kurukshetra is still on. We shall rename
our capital as Hastinapur. Such is our
destiny. But give us Karna as our god. Erect temples for him. Let us learn the lesson of endless suffering
from him.
Personally, I wouldn't want Karna as a God. Why? Because I can see too many Karnas around us. He did have to undergo a lot of ridicule, but he was crowned Anga desh ka Raja by non other than the great Duryadhana.And of course like every minister in India, he decided his loyalty lies towards the high command rather than the people. But then, he is right. All he got from people was ridicule, Duryodhana on the other hand...
ReplyDeleteIn fact, exactly like the great leaders of today, Karna laid the blame of Draupadi's attempted rape at her feet rather than Duryodhana.
Karna is like most of the Indian politicians, who come from poor background, and had to face a lot of adversities. Their sufferings don't forgive their wrong decisions, and misplaced loyalties.
The Karna of this post is taken from the novel which shows him in a heroic light, Kiran. You are taking the Karna of Vyasa's epic.
DeleteDoesn't matter. I am not serious about making Karna our god since I don't believe in gods and never rely on them for blessings. I accept the sufferings as part of life. I have gone through them even as Karna has. Hence my affinity with him...
In fact, there is really no heroic figure in the epic. That's why it is a very complex work. Dharma is subtle, as Bhishma told Draupadi. In that subtlety, wickedness is justified as strategy.
I thought the novel a retake on Mahabharta, hence considered them same. My bad!
DeleteThere's no hero in the epic just like in real life. We are humans, and hence make mistakes. I understand, and agree with your affinity with Karna.
It's just that given the atmosphere now-a-days I'm scared of glorifying anyone. Once we worship anyone, we tend to laud their mistakes instead of rectifying them.
Have a great Sunday!
What I liked most about this blog is that subtlety that lies in the comment of Kiran Acharya. Yet another wise reader here.
ReplyDeleteWhat I liked most about this blog is that subtlety that lies in the comment of Kiran Acharya. Yet another wise reader here.
ReplyDeleteDid you mean subtlety or sagacity?
DeleteYet another? :)
Both, sir. Ok. Ok. The first wise reader is Matheikal.
ReplyDeleteBoth, sir. Ok. Ok. The first wise reader is Matheikal.
ReplyDelete