Dialogues of karna-kunti (translation by Swastik Roy)

Karna:              Beside the sacred Jahnavi flowing serene, engrossed in my prayer to the evening sun, Karna I’m, son of Adhiratha, the charioteer, born of the womb of Radha, that’s what I’m. Tell me mother, who art thou?

Kunti:               my son, it is me who introduced you to this world in the first dawn of your life. Shedding all my inhibitions I’ve come to thee, just to tell you who I am.

Karna:              Honorable lady, light from those down caste eyes of yours melts my heart like mountain snow melting under the sheer rays of the sun, my name uttered from thy lips, thy voice pierces my ears as a voice from some previous birth I never know, creates a sensation of pain as never before. Tell me, O unknown lady, which unknown bond relates my birth to you.

Kunti:               Behold my child, behold for some time. Let the sun god slide beyond the horizon, let the evening spread its dark wings darker than ever, now I should tell you, o valiant, Kunti I am.

Karna:              Kunti you are, Arjuna’s mother!

Kunti:               Indeed, Arjuna’s mother I am, but my son, does not hate me for that only. Till I remember the day of performance of mastery of weapons in the city of Hastina, with slow confident steps you entered the arena, like the early sun piercing through the star studded eastern horizon. Among all the royal women behind the royal drapes, it was the heart of mine that suffered like being poisoned by a thousand serpents; it was my eyes that showered upon you innumerable kisses of blessings. It was Arjuna’s mother indeed. When Kripa advanced to ask for your parentage with a smile on his face and announced, none without a royal heritage can even challenge Arjuna to compete, speechless you stood, with face reddened and down caste – thou stood still – in whose heart that gleam of embarrassment burnt like fire - Arjuna’s mother it was. Blessed is lad Durjodhon, my child then and there crowned you as the Prince of Anga  - all praises to him – tears streaming down my eyes rushed to overflow your newly crowned head. At that moment, making his way to the arena, entered Adhiratha, the charioteer, overwhelmed with joy. And in those royal gears of yours, midst the curious crowd milling around, you bowed thy head to touch his feet. The friends of the Pandavas smiled cruel and contempt – but right at that moment, it was me, mother of Arjuna, who blessed you, O valiant hero – the warrior of all warriors – it was Arjuna’s mother indeed.

Karna:              Accept my gratitude, noble lady. A royal mother you are. Why are thou alone here. A battleground it is and the commander of the Kourava army I am.

Kunti:               My son, here I am to ask for a favor – shouldn’t I return disheartened.

Karna:              Thou royal mother asking for a favor? From me? Barring my manliness and ethics, I’ll put to thy feet anything thou ask for.

Kunti:               To take you I have come.

Karna:              Where will thou take me?

Kunti:               To the depth of my thirsty bosom, to my motherly lap I’ll take thee.

Karna:              A blessed mother you are with five valiant sons – an ignominious prince ling I am without any royal ancestry where will thou find room for me?

Kunti:               At the summit, above all my sons will be your place, for you are the eldest Karna.

Karna:              By what right would I enter that sanctum? Tell me, who are already cheated of their kingdom, how could I claim a share of motherly love they fully deserve. The divine gift that motherly love is – that can’t be gambled away nor it can be conquered by force.

Kunti:               My son, with that divine right indeed once you had come to this lap of mine, now return by that same right with glory, without any hesitation – and take thou place on my lap, amongst all thou brothers.

Karna:              O lady, your voice sounds like coming from some world of distant dream. Look darkness has descended all around and quiet flows the river, as if nothing remains any more. You have whisked me away off to some land of enchanted dream, a home forgotten long ago as if at the very dawn of my consciousness. Your words are touching the mesmerize soul of mine like some ancestral truth, as if my inchoate infancy, the very obscurity of my mother’s womb is engulfing me. O royal mother, I don’t bother if it is a dream or a reality, come and put your right hand on my cheeks and forehead for a few moments. Many a times I’ve seen in my dreams slowly and softly my mother has come to see me, I felt so bleak and beseeched her in tears, mother, remove thy veil and let me see that face, the moment she vanishes, tearing my thirsty and eager dream. Today trhat dream has come to reality in the disguise of Pandava’s mother on the battlefield this evening beside the Bhagirathi? Behold O royal lady, on the other bank of the river lights are coming on in the Pandava Camp, and on this bank, not far away, in the Kaourav stables a hundred thousand horses are stamping their hooves, the great battle begins tomorrow morning and tonight why did I listen to my mothers voice from Arjuna’s mother? why my name uttered by those lips rings with exquisite music, suddenly my heart rushes to the Pandavas to call them brothers

Kunti:               Then come on my child come along with me

Karna:              Surely I’ll go with you mother, surely I’ll go without asking a single question, without any doubt and discarding all worries. Holy lady, my mother you are, your call has awaken my inner soul from its slumber. The drums beating , the sounds of conch shells signaling victory nothing matters any more. The violence of war, heroic fame, triumphs and defeats – all seem false and meaningless. Take me with thou mother, where I’ve to go?

Kunti:               There, on the other side of the river, where lamps are burning in quiet royal tents over the pale golden sand.

Karna:              And there a motherless son shall get his mother for ever. There the pole star will shine through out the night in the affectionate motherly eyes of yours. Lady, just repeat once more, I’m the son of yours.

Kunti:               My son

Karna:              Then why did you discard me away from you in this cruel inglorious, world of darkness and ignorance amidst the humiliation of being without any identity, far, far away from the affectionate eyes of a mother? Why did you float me away down the stream of contempt, banishing me from my brothers, putting a distance between me and Arjuna, that brotherly attraction of ours has created the subtle enmity that binds us together that can never be ignored. Mother, speechless art thou? Your humiliation, penetrating these layers of darkness is silently touching my soul; barely can I keep my eyes open. Let it be then. Never you have to answer why did you discard me? Mother’s affection that one gets as the first gift from god, why did you snatched that away from your child – you never have to answer that question. But today you tell me why have you come to take me back again?

Kunti:               My son let your reprimands like a hundred thousand thunderclaps rend this heart of mine into a hundred pieces. The curse of casting you away has made my heart still pine like a childless mother, though I’ve five valiant sons close to my bosom. Alas! It is you for whom my open arms go flapping and flailing in this world. It is for you my child deprived, my heart burns itself out to pray to the god of the universe, I’ve come to see thou today, fortunate am I. A crime unpardonable I commit when you were not been able to utter a single word. My son, pardon your cruel mother with words from those lips of yours and let that pardon burn fiercer than any fire of rebuke in my heart, let it reduce my sins to ashes and make me pure again.

Karna:              o mother, allow me to touch the holy dust of thou feet and   let my tears be yours.

Kunti:               I’ve not come to clutch thee to my bosom only my son, but take you back where you deserve to be by your royal rights. Son of a charioteer not you are – from a royal ancestry you are – cast aside all the insults that have been your lot and come where your five valiant brothers are waiting for you.

Karna:              Her Royal Highness, son of a charioteer I am, Radha is my mother. There is no glory greater than that. Let the Pandavas be Pandavas, Kaurabs Kaurabs, I envy none of thee.

Kunti:               Recover the kingdom that is your own by your own puissance of arms my child, Judhistier will sway the whate fan for you, bhima will hold the royal umbrella overhead, the valiant arjuna will be the charioteer of your royal chariot and Dhaumya, the priest will chant the vedic shlokas, and you the conqueror of all, will be the soul ruler of your kingdom in the good company of your kinsman sitting on your jewelled throne.

Karna;              Throne! Indeed , who just refused the affection oh a mother he has long pined for, you are alluring him with the assurance of a kingdom. It is now beyond you to take me back to the riches of you yourself had deprived me once. The moment I was born, my mother, my brother, my family, everything you snatched away from me. Now today if I cheat my foster mother of charioteer caste to accept thy offer of royal motherhood, if I lust and rush for the throne snapping away all my ties with the lord of the Kourava clan, then fie on me.

Kunti:               Blessed you are my child, for a true valiant man you are. Alas! O duty of man, how stern and painful your justice is. How one could expect that the little helpless child I forsook will emerge out some dark ally of life with all these heroism and valiance, only to hurl cruel weapons with his cruel hands on those who are his brother born of the same motherly womb. What a curse is this?

Karna:              Do not get scared mother. Let me predict that victory shall kiss the Pandavas. On the dark canvas of this night of gloom, clearly I read the dire consequences of the war legible in the light of the stars. Sweat of work against hopelessness, a sad music of effort without victory drifts to my ears in this quiet unruffled hours from the sky infinite. Of peace and utter emptiness is the end of it all. Do not ask me to desert the side that is destined to lose. Let Pandu’s sons be victorious and be kings. Let me be allowed to stay among the losers with aspirations unfulfilled. You forsook me to this world homeless, nameless on the very first night of my birth. With that same ruthless heart abandon me again O mother, to my inglorious infamous defeat. But before you leave for ever, bless me that my desire for victory, for fame, for kingdom must never deflect me from the path of a valiant salvation.