Skip to main content

Karna and Destiny


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.




Comments

  1. 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...
    In 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.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. 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.

      Doesn'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.

      Delete
    2. I thought the novel a retake on Mahabharta, hence considered them same. My bad!
      There'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!

      Delete
  2. What I liked most about this blog is that subtlety that lies in the comment of Kiran Acharya. Yet another wise reader here.

    ReplyDelete
  3. What I liked most about this blog is that subtlety that lies in the comment of Kiran Acharya. Yet another wise reader here.

    ReplyDelete
  4. Both, sir. Ok. Ok. The first wise reader is Matheikal.

    ReplyDelete
  5. Both, sir. Ok. Ok. The first wise reader is Matheikal.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Adventures of Toto as a comic strip

  'The Adventures of Toto' is an amusing story by Ruskin Bond. It is prescribed as a lesson in CBSE's English course for class 9. Maggie asked her students to do a project on some of the lessons and Femi George's work is what I would like to present here. Femi converted the story into a beautiful comic strip. Her work will speak for itself and let me present it below.  Femi George Student of Carmel Public School, Vazhakulam, Kerala Similar post: The Little Girl

The Little Girl

The Little Girl is a short story by Katherine Mansfield given in the class 9 English course of NCERT. Maggie gave an assignment to her students based on the story and one of her students, Athena Baby Sabu, presented a brilliant job. She converted the story into a delightful comic strip. Mansfield tells the story of Kezia who is the eponymous little girl. Kezia is scared of her father who wields a lot of control on the entire family. She is punished severely for an unwitting mistake which makes her even more scared of her father. Her grandmother is fond of her and is her emotional succour. The grandmother is away from home one day with Kezia's mother who is hospitalised. Kezia gets her usual nightmare and is terrified. There is no one at home to console her except her father from whom she does not expect any consolation. But the father rises to the occasion and lets the little girl sleep beside him that night. She rests her head on her father's chest and can feel his heart...

The Ghost of a Banyan Tree

  Image from here Fiction Jaichander Varma could not sleep. It was past midnight and the world outside Jaichander Varma’s room was fairly quiet because he lived sufficiently far away from the city. Though that entailed a tedious journey to his work and back, Mr Varma was happy with his residence because it afforded him the luxury of peaceful and pure air. The city is good, no doubt. Especially after Mr Modi became the Prime Minister, the city was the best place with so much vikas. ‘Where’s vikas?’ Someone asked Mr Varma once. Mr Varma was offended. ‘You’re a bloody antinational mussalman who should be living in Pakistan ya kabristan,’ Mr Varma told him bluntly. Mr Varma was a proud Indian which means he was a Hindu Brahmin. He believed that all others – that is, non-Brahmins – should go to their respective countries of belonging. All Muslims should go to Pakistan and Christians to Rome (or is it Italy? Whatever. Get out of Bharat Mata, that’s all.) The lower caste Hindus co...

Unromantic Men

Romance is a tenderness of the heart. That is disappearing even from the movies. Tenderness of heart is not a virtue anymore; it is a weakness. Who is an ideal man in today’s world? Shakespeare’s Romeo and Sarat Chandra Chattopadhyay’s Devdas would be considered as fools in today’s world in which the wealthiest individuals appear on elite lists, ‘strong’ leaders are hailed as nationalist heroes, and success is equated with anything other than traditional virtues. The protagonist of Colleen McCullough’s 1977 novel, The Thorn Birds [which sold more than 33 million copies], is torn between his idealism and his natural weaknesses as a human being. Ralph de Bricassart is a young Catholic priest who is sent on a kind of punishment-appointment to a remote rural area of Australia where the Cleary family arrives from New Zealand in 1921 to take care of the enormous estate of Mary Carson who is Paddy Cleary’s own sister. Meggy Cleary is the only daughter of Paddy and Fiona who have eight so...

Goodbye, Little Ones

They were born under my care, tiny throbs of life, eyes still shut to the world. They grew up under my constant care. I changed their bed and the sheets regularly making sure they were always warm and comfortable. When one of them didn’t open her eyes after a fortnight of her birth, I rang up my cousin who is a vet and got the appropriate prescription that gave her the light of day in just two days. I watched each one of them stumble through their first steps. Today they were adopted. I personally took them to their new home, a tiny house of a family that belongs to the class that India calls BPL [Below Poverty Line]. I didn’t know them at all until I stopped my car a little away from their small house, at the nearest spot my car could possibly reach. They lived in another village altogether, some 15 km from mine. Sometimes 15 km can make a world of difference. A man who looked as old as me had come to my house in the late afternoon. “I’d like to adopt your kittens,” he said. He...