Karna's Wife (8 page)

The person to react most furiously to the news was Shona, Karna’s younger brother. ‘I am not against Karna bringing another bride home, but she’s a kshatriya princess, a stranger, an outsider who will never be able to mingle with us. She is sure to disrupt the peace of this house. Worse, she may take him away from us,’ he warned, voicing aloud his parents’ rising trepidation.

The old parents, Radha and Adhiratha, looked visibly worried. Shatruntapa, or Shona as they fondly called him, disapproved of his brother’s new marriage vehemently. Even Vrushali was unable to placate her angry brother-in-law. Her soft-spoken words made him more angry. ‘As his wife, you are the one who is the most affected, yet you accept the situation so calmly!’ raged Shona.

‘If he is going to be happy, so be it,’ she said evenly, smiling softly as she got ready to welcome the newly-wed couple who were on their way home. Shona glowered; it was characteristic of her to respond mildly. She would gladly suffer in silent despair, never allowing her emotions to show, even when matters concerned her so deeply. To Shona, her restraint showed her remarkable resilience.

It was in this atmosphere of doubt and distrust that Uruvi was given a traditional welcome as she entered the palace threshold, unaware of the hidden misgivings, but blissful that she was Karna’s bride. They had driven for two long days from Pukeya, travelling along a road that ran by a river, flanked by thick trees. Now and then, she glimpsed the snaking river, smooth and blue. Her new home stood on a little hill, with a winding path leading to it. From a distance, she could see the sprawling sandstone palace, surrounded by a flower-filled garden. It was pretty, but was not as exquisite as her home in Pukeya.

The first person to welcome her to her new home was Vrushali, standing tall and elegant, holding a silver thali bearing incense, tiny bowls and other items used for the pooja, the customary prayers that would take place when the wedded couple entered the palace. Vrushali stooped over Uruvi, making the princess uneasily aware of being dwarfed. It was a sensation unfamiliar to Uruvi; she had always been cheekily confident about her diminutive size. It was her taller friends who eventually got uncomfortable, feeling like ‘giants’ next to her, as they often reminded her crossly.

Right now, Uruvi firmly overrode her momentary discomfiture. She straightened her back and looked squarely at the woman’s calm face. But not for long. Uruvi found she could not hold Vrushali’s serene gaze. She wondered if she could endure the scrutiny of the other woman as she performed the aarti, circling the silver pooja thali around her, the smoke of the flickering earthen lamp clouding the distance between them.

At last, Uruvi looked up to glance straight into her rival’s liquid eyes, which were far-seeing and wise as if measuring the standards of others by her own scrupulous honesty. Uruvi felt like an intruder, trespassing on the happiness of the woman in front of her. She was emotionally prepared for the censure she thought would come from Karna’s wife, or a cold silence expressing an unspoken displeasure in her conduct. But none came, and Uruvi felt her own defences melting away.

Behind her stood Karna’s parents and a man who stood a little distance away, as if he did not want to be a participant in the ceremony. She wondered who he was. ‘That’s Shona, my younger brother!’ she heard her husband whisper softly in her ear. The younger man frowned, mistaking the gesture as an open display of affection between the newly married couple.

Uruvi looked at the elderly couple who had nurtured Karna, the golden orphan, bundled in a basket afloat in the calm waters of the holy river Ganga. She felt a sudden surge of affection for them as she looked at them gratefully. Without these people, Karna wouldn’t be at her side now. Both looked troubled but visibly happy to see Karna. Radha threw her arms around his neck and kissed him tenderly on his forehead. Adhiratha, radiantly happy, stroked his son’s face with both his hands. ‘You are back,’ he smiled through his tears. He was a slightly built old man, exceedingly thin with a swarthy skin the colour of old ebony, his hair sparse, his tearful eyes full of hope and love.

Like most brides, Uruvi felt she was a guest in her new home, trespassing on unknown territory, amidst people she had just met but whom she did not know; with those whom she would learn to love, but not unconditionally as she did her parents. Stepping into her new home, she had stepped a rung higher into adulthood. Or, as some would remind her, a rung lower on the social scale, she thought wryly.

‘Please feel welcome here, dear. I hope you will be comfortable,’ said Radha, ushering her into her room, which Uruvi noticed was in the farthest east wing of the palace, at a considerable distance from Vrushali’s room. Radha suddenly looked self-conscious. ‘Please make yourself comfortable,’ she repeated. ‘We may not be able to give you what you are accustomed to…the luxury, the lavishness…we live a little differently,’ she said contritely.

‘You have given me Karna,’ Uruvi’s words were simple and sincere and Radha was struck by their raw earnestness.

‘I heard there was chaos at the swayamwara when other suitors objected to your choice—you must have had a hard time…oh dear, I am handling this so badly,’ Radha looked flustered. ‘But don’t worry, everything will be fine. You must love him very much to have taken this step, a decision difficult to make and, yes, somewhat unheard of!’

‘Not terribly, I hope!’ Uruvi and she laughed, the tinkling sound filling the room. Radha smiled back, relaxing a little.

‘Radheya is special—I knew that the day my husband got him home from the holy river. He was such an enchanting baby, with a captivating smile and his ears adorned with earrings,’ recalled Radha, her voice suffused with love. ‘We were childless then…so when my husband found the baby, it was a wish come true. The whole incident was strange…the lost baby drifting along the river, the closed basket full of gold ornaments. The baby himself was so breathtakingly beautiful! Adhiratha says he resembled the morning sun, so bright and resplendent was he! He was covered with a golden sheath, like a warrior’s armour. He was a wonder, a sight to behold! Adhiratha’s joy knew no bounds, and he immediately got him home. He claimed the baby looked as if he was not only of royal blood, but of celestial birth. That’s why he was sent to a childless couple like us. It is the gods that gifted him to us. After we adopted Radheya, good fortune came our way—we had children of our own soon. But Radheya is irreplaceable and we cannot live without him! His brothers love him unreservedly, especially Shona. For him, Radheya is God.’

‘And so this child blessed with beauty, grace and splendour as well as God-given skills came to be known as Radheya, the son of Radha, and also as Vasusena and Vrisha,’ added Uruvi, recalling the tales of bravery she had heard of her hero while she had longed for him.

Uruvi was momentarily overwhelmed with the intensity of Radha’s emotions. His parents loved him completely, without restraint and reservation, and Vrushali worshipped him with an unwavering devotion. For the first time, Uruvi felt a sense of disquiet; a sliver of doubt pierced her mind as she wondered if her own love for him was as absolute as she thought it was. And more importantly, could he ever love her back, as completely and devotedly as he loved his parents, his brothers and his wife? Was her love magnanimous enough to accept the others’ love for him as well? She would have to share him, not just with his parents and his brothers but his wife as well. She knew that sharing, as her parents had realized very early in her life, was not her strong point because as an only child, the love she gave and received was absolute, undivided and exclusive.

As she settled down in the palace, she seized any moments she could spend with her husband. When she heard his chariot wheels coming to a stop at the porch, a radiant smile lit up her face. Radha and Vrushali noticed this silent ritual and subtly saw to it that it was Uruvi Karna went up to meet first. Shona and Adhiratha often found the newly-weds talking quietly in the day, and did not hide their amusement at Karna’s behaviour as an ardent husband.

Uruvi could spend hours chatting with her husband, although she did the talking and he did the listening. Her intelligent queries forced him to respond and he found himself discussing serious topics, which he seldom did with his mother and his wife. Uruvi was refreshingly different from all the other women he had known. As the days wore on, he became aware that what he already felt for her was not the sense of duty a husband reserves for his wife, nor just simple lust. He admired her. Mixed with her vivacity was an inner calmness, a composure, a serenity that relaxed him. He found himself talking to her freely about matters he usually kept to himself—his political affairs, his passion for archery, his boredom with the rich society that he at once despised and yet used to promote himself like a hungry scavenger. It was not mere knowledge, but her ability to comprehend even nuances with a quick, deep perceptiveness.

Barely a week after her stormy swayamwara, Karna admitted to himself that he was dangerously drawn to his new bride. There are very fine shades between love and longing, and need and desire, and Karna found himself uncharacteristically confused about his feelings. His fascination seemed to increase with each day—she excited yet soothed him; she was like a haven where he sought refuge and he knew he could never let go of her.

He had been married to Vrushali for many years. His marriage to the suta princess had been a duty, marked by a devotion which was an innate, instinctive part of his nature, his love for Vrushali being as deep as his love for Radha, like a calm ocean. But he was mesmerized by Uruvi, entranced by her beauty and intelligence. As a man of power and a creature of struggle, Karna realized he was crippled by the ethics he followed, trapped as he was by his own principles. He always kept his word, for one. For everything he did, there was a certain reason, a logical journey from aspiration to determination. He had wanted to be a warrior; he was one today. He was born an orphan but fate had willed him to be brought up in a large family where love and affection was bountiful.

And now, Uruvi had broken all his rules. She had won him; he had not acquired her.

Vrushali was mild-mannered, but a woman of spirit. She was tall, dark and soft-spoken, but with a firm lilt in her voice. She clearly kept the family together and Karna treated her with the utmost love and respect. Although not a pretty woman, her gentleness and natural air proved that beauty did not really matter. As the older daughter-in-law and wife, she treated Uruvi formally with the politeness expected from her. Whenever they met, Vrushali was always cool and unflustered, looking at her steadfastly, without emotion.

The two women got on reasonably well, with a cordiality lacking warmth. Uruvi did not feel comfortable with Vrushali, possibly because of her own sense of guilt for intruding in the older woman’s marital paradise. Or perhaps the warmth was lacking because of Vrushali’s innate aloofness—Uruvi could not really tell. They talked, they chatted, they lunched together, but Uruvi sensed a distance between them. For all their amiability they remained stubbornly unfamiliar, two strangers under the same roof, sharing and loving the same man.

Uruvi was sensitive about the impression she made on others, and beneath Vrushali’s smiling, serene countenance, she discerned a certain remoteness. Her rival had already summed her up and Uruvi knew the conclusion was not an agreeable one. This disturbed Uruvi because she was used to the approval of others. It vaguely annoyed her that she had not impressed the other woman as favourably as she had intended to. Uruvi could not pinpoint the cause, but she knew that the older woman did not think well of her.

Shona was a master of cold praise. Uruvi soon realized to her dismay that he disliked her, but she couldn’t do a thing to change his poor opinion of her. His innate civility and the affection he felt for his older brother kept him from making a direct statement, but his expression showed his disapproval of her plainly enough. He tried to avoid her, and was so excessively polite when he came face to face with her that it bordered on curtness. However, in spite of himself and grudgingly so, he had come around and probably did not consider her a threat to his sister-in-law, Vrushali, whom he was fiercely protective about.

Unlike their older daughter-in-law, Karna’s parents seemed to hold Uruvi in open awe, as if she was a goddess who dared to tread the mortal path. These conflicting responses to her made Uruvi feel lost in her new palace, bereft, without the warmth of the family and friends she missed. She remembered how her father had watched her with a tender smile, her mother’s indulgent look as she played the sitar, Kunti’s delighted outpouring of affection each time they met, Bhishma Pitamah’s tolerant smile as she argued vehemently with him, Bhima’s relentless yet affectionate teasing…she was so used to the affection which they all so obviously felt for her, and expressed in pampering her. Uruvi had a naïveté, a charm and an eagerness that was captivating. There was a generosity of manner, guilelessness and a natural affability which could not but make people take to her. When she did not get the same affection in her husband’s home, Uruvi felt perplexed.