Centuries unfurled in the blink of an ethereal eye. Tales of war, woven through the ages, whispered secrets of the past. Yet, as time wove its intricate tapestry, the truth became entangled amidst countless retellings. Only fragments of the original tale remained, lost in the labyrinth of countless variations.
Amidst the vast sea of literature, one epic emerged, casting its mighty shadow over all others. The Mahabharata, a collection of poems, surpassed all boundaries, growing into the grandest poetic work ever to grace the world.
But in the modern era, those legendary tales have transformed into mere myths, their once-cherished heroes relegated to subjects of debate and intellectual discourse. The warriors who deserved reverence found themselves the victims of belittlement, their sacrifices reduced to mere ammunition in intellectual battles.
The world now exists in stark contrast, a binary realm where one side's wrongness automatically begets the righteousness of the other, without a question posed or a shade of gray considered. The nuances that once colored human existence have given way to an illusion of absolutes—good and evil in a constant struggle for supremacy.
In the era of Kalyug, a young boy named Yadwinder Singh found solace in the crimson tome known as "Mrityunjay" —the Conqueror of Death. Within its pages lay the perspective of a charioteer-turned-warrior, the indomitable Karna, the mortal son of the Sun God, Suryaputra. Yadwinder, whose name meant "to win with the ability to remember," sat amidst a room adorned with a vast collection of historical and religious texts from various traditions.
Gazing upon the final book he held, Yadwinder muttered, "Ah, at long last, the culmination of this literary pilgrimage. Amongst these towering volumes and the vastness of online archives, I have finally reached the end."
With a sigh, he opened the book, his eyes falling upon the Sanskrit and Hindi script. "Ah, Sanskrit, the language of the gods," he remarked, an air of weariness touching his voice. "A formidable tongue, indeed. But my efforts were not in vain, for translations often tamper with the original essence of these texts. Although it hasn't been easy to balance my reading with the demands of work and life, the endeavor has been worthwhile."
Despite his reservations, Yadwinder embarked on his literary odyssey once more, delving into the pages of the book. As a person afflicted with Maladaptive Daydreaming, his imagination took flight, and he found himself transported to another realm—the world encapsulated within the pages.
In the next moment, Yadwinder stood on the banks of a meandering river, his imaginative vision taking on vivid hues and tangible presence. His role transformed into that of a detached observer, witnessing the cosmic dance of destiny unfold before him.
To his side, a resplendent lady, Kunti, received a divine boon from the Sun God himself, bestowing upon her a son. Yadwinder, aware of the impending tragedy, yearned to intervene, to alter the course of events. But he remained a captive audience, as the tale played out in his mind's eye.
He watched in anguish as a mother was compelled to abandon her newborn child due to societal conventions. The infant, born into royalty, destined for a life of opulence and indulgence, now struggled for survival amidst the relentless currents of the river Ganga.
The child, known as Karna, was thrust into the arms of those considered low caste, subjected to the scorn and cruelty of society. Instead of being greeted with adoration, as a prince rightfully should, he became the target of society's disdain.
Yadwinder witnessed Karna's arduous journey through a world that constantly rebuked him, a world that denied him the love and affection he deserved. Even his adoptive parents, who plucked him from the river's clutches, failed to nurture him with tenderness. Karna's childhood resembled a descent into the depths of hell, moving from one torment to another.
Tragedy struck when Karna's younger brother, the true child of his adoptive parents, was ruthlessly slain before his eyes, bound and defenseless. The brother he had spared earlier, despite the enmity between them, now fell victim to society's twisted whims.
Yet, Karna retained a resolute spirit, a flame of righteousness burning within his soul. Despite enduring the harshest tribulations, he clung to the belief that he could change the world, so that no other soul would suffer as he had. He embarked on a path of knowledge, deceiving his way into the art of archery, driven by his unwavering devotion to his teacher.
But fate, ever unyielding, intervened once more. While Karna cradled his slumbering mentor, an insidious insect sank its fangs into his thigh, gnawing at his flesh until it reached bone. Enduring unimaginable pain, he maintained his silence, determined not to wake his revered teacher. Yet, as his blood mingled with his teacher's, the truth was unveiled—a lie, a deception regarding his caste. The teacher, Maha Parshuram, the wrathful incarnation of Lord Narayan, cursed Karna, ignorant of the reasons behind his deceit.
As Karna matured, Yadwinder observed every twist and turn of his tumultuous existence. Bound by oaths he had sworn, Karna fulfilled his responsibilities with unwavering devotion. In the grand war that unfolded, he refrained from slaying his true brothers, even when the opportunity presented itself.
Yet, curses befell him, borne from the machinations of others, their personal vendettas, and his own destiny. Unarmed, bound by his divine curses, he faced treachery and trickery, his path dictated by an unforgiving fate. Despite knowing his ultimate fate, Karna stood firm, resolute in his righteousness, upholding his promises and shouldering his responsibilities.
History forgot him, casting him aside as a villain, overshadowed by his defeat at the hands of Arjuna. But Karna was more than that—a king who personified charity, the one who stood against injustice when Draupadi, the wife of the Pandavas, was stripped in public. He remained steadfast, never succumbing to temptation, always honoring his commitments. Yet, the annals of history remembered him as the defeated antagonist, overlooking his true essence.
As Yadwinder bore witness to Karna's tragic tale, a profound anger welled up within him, fueled by the injustice inflicted upon this noble soul. Yet, he knew he was powerless, a mere observer within the realm of his imagination. And in the next moment, the vivid scene shattered, his consciousness returning as he realized he had reached the final pages of the book, the end of Karna's journey.
With a sigh, Yadwinder muttered, "Ah, the book concludes, my literary expedition reaching its zenith. My decision to approach various religious traditions with an open mind has been rewarding. But oh, Karna, your plight was truly wretched. Now, what shall I do? Having devoured all these books, I find myself at a crossroads."
Overcome by weariness, Yadwinder succumbed to drowsiness, his eyes closing upon the open pages of the book.
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