A Tryst between Mother and Son
When Vidura reported to Kunti how the stage had been set for the war, and how Radheya had vowed to kill Arjuna, she sank into deep depression. One thought now agonized her – what would happen when they both confronted each other on the battlefield? Waking and dreaming, the image of the two engaged in a lethal fight haunted her. The only way to avert this catastrophe was to let Radheya know the secret of his birth. Once he learnt that he was also her son, he might join his Pandava brothers in their war against Duryodhana.
Since Radheya was a worshipper of the sun, she decided to follow him secretly to the bank of the Ganga. It was a spring morning, with the trees and flowers in full bloom. Surreptitiously, she followed him at a distance, till she saw him stop at his favourite spot. He then picked up water in his palms, closed his eyes and began to chant the Surya mantra. She saw the sun’s rays falling on his head as if they were caressing it. Father and son in a mystic communion, she thought.
Since he now wanted to have his morning bath, Radheya left his upper garment on the bank and stepped into the river. Quietly, Kunti drew close to the spot and veiled her face with the cloth Radheya had discarded. When Radheya stepped out after his bath and looked around for his garment, he saw a woman wearing it as her veil. He was intrigued. Gently, he asked her: ‘Who are you, O lady? Why have you covered your face with my cloth? Oh, but there is a mysterious feeling in my heart that I have seen you somewhere, with your face veiled and your hands stretched towards me.’ He paused. ‘Yes, it has just dawned upon me that I have seen you often in my dreams. Tell me, O my dream lady, who are you and why do you appear in my dreams? And now you stand here in front of me, as if to ask some boon of me. Well, you have indeed chosen an opportune moment, for I have never sent away anyone without giving something – anyone who meets me after my morning prayer to the sun, my deity.’
‘I understand,’ Kunti responded. As she now took off the veil, her face looked radiant in the glow of the morning sun. ‘Because you are his son,’ she added, almost under her breath.
Radheya thought that since it was just a casual remark, he let it pass.
But when she repeated her words, he was mystified. He also wondered why tears had started streaming down her face – so beautiful, tender and benign.
‘Why did you say that, O my dream lady? You seem to be holding some secret in your heart. Please do not tantalize me any more.’
He then asked her to sit beside him under a tree. The sun’s rays filtered through its leaves, casting shadows on their faces. Then, surrendering to an irrepressible emotion, she pulled him towards her and began to kiss his face – his forehead, his cheeks, his eyes.
‘I am your mother, Kunti, and you are Karna, and Surya is your father.’ She almost sighed. ‘If you stay with me for a moment, I will tell you the story of your birth, and why I had to abandon you, one fateful morning, to escape public censure. How can society forgive a virgin bearing a child?’
As she concluded her narration, it was now Karna’s turn to burst into tears. He went down on his knees and placed his head on her lap.
‘O mother, my dear mother!’ Karna exclaimed. ‘So I am not a sutaputra, but your firstborn, the eldest of the Pandavas.’ Then, heaving a deep sigh, he said, ‘Of course, Krishna has had already told me the secret of my birth, but I wanted to meet my mother, face-to-face, and hear it all directly from her.’
For a long time, both mother and son cried on each other’s shoulders. No words were spoken, only their sobs broke the silence.
Then Kunti resumed: ‘How can I believe that the little babe I set afloat on the Ganga would grow into such a tall, handsome man? O my son, if only you knew how I have pined for you all these years, with every throb of my heart.’
Karna’s hand now wiped the tears off his mother’s face. Looking deep into her eyes, he said, ‘I can imagine what suffering you must have been through – a mother in search of her son!’ He fell silent for a moment.
‘But you haven’t told me why you chose this moment to meet me. I guess you know that after my morning prayer, I cannot refuse anything to anyone.’
Then, holding his left hand in her right, she implored him to join his brothers. ‘That would be a dream come true. This is the boon your dream woman is asking of you. Because the very thought of you confronting your brother, Arjuna, on the battlefield devastates me. I beg of you, my son – I entreat you.’
Withdrawing his hand tenderly, Karna responded: ‘This is what Krishna too had asked me to do – forsake Duryodhana to join hands with my brothers.’ Then, with a lump in his throat, he said, ‘O mother, you have brought me to a point where I feel pulled in two opposite directions. Since a mother, I know, is the creator of life, she is next only to God. But Duryodhana too came into my life when I stood stripped of my honour in an open tournament. I was humiliated for being a sutaputra.
‘O mother dear, your heart would bleed if you heard my tale of woe – how I bore this stigma of being a sutaputra all these years. It was like a heavy yoke on my shoulders, heavier than any a pair of bullocks could possibly carry. You know, Drona and Bheeshma have always kept their distance from me. Indeed, I was fortunate to have been trained in archery by Parasurama, the great master – but only after I pretended to be a Brahmin. But when he learnt that I had lied about my identity, he cursed me, saying that the mantra he had taught me to win every single combat would fade out of my memory at a critical moment on the battlefield.
‘But, above all, it baffles me to think how even you refused to recognize me when I appeared in that tournament. Surely you must have seen my gold earrings, and the kavacha. There you sat on the dais with Gandhari, watching the spectacle of my ignominy… Then came into my life Duryodhana, who gave me a new identity by making me the ruler of Anga. When he adopted me as his friend, I felt as though I was reborn. A new life he gave me, O mother, a life of dignity and honour. And in that moment, I pledged him my life – to serve him under all circumstances. Yes, I know his faults. But friendship compels me to think only of his love for me. So what can I do, O mother dear? If I have now discovered that I am a Kshatriya, it is all the more reason for me to honour my word to someone who is now like a brother to me, as dear as Arjuna or Yudhishthira. So, unfortunate creature that I am, I have to fight Arjuna on the battlefield. I told Krishna not to reveal the secret of my birth to him, lest his hands falter when he raises his Gandiva against me. I also know that I am destined to die at his hands. But promise me, mother, not to grieve over my death, for you will still have your five valiant sons with you after I am gone. In any case, my life has been an idle straw blown from one place to another by the strong buffets of some malignant destiny. And can any man change his fate? Tears – yours or mine – cannot wipe out what the gods have already laid down in my horoscope.’ He paused. ‘It is a pity that the only time in my life that I have to deny something to someone, after my morning prayer, is to my dear mother. May God forgive me!’
Karna’s words left Kunti shattered. Crying bitterly, she stuttered: ‘Look at the fate of this cursed mother who is doomed to see her two sons, both peerless in valour, determined to kill each other. But I can understand your plight, O Karna. You will be remembered as the noblest of the Kuru race. In fact, there will never be the like of you again.’
Then, she held him close to her heart. As they stepped out of the tree’s shade into the open, the sun blazed fiercely, as if it wanted to scorch the earth.
‘I wonder if Surya, my father,’ said Karna, ‘is bristling with anger at my refusal to grant you the boon. Look at his blazing copper eye, flaming with intense wrath.’
Looking directly at the sun, partially covering her eyes with her hand, Kunti countered: ‘Or, maybe, his anger is directed at me for asking his son, an illustrious Kshatriya, to go back on the word he has given to Duryodhana.’
‘Blessed I am to have a mother like you,’ Karna said. ‘But before I let you go away, I want you to keep the secret of my birth sealed in your heart. I asked the same favour of Krishna as well. So let me still be known as Radheya to Arjuna, Duryodhna and the others.’