Kundadri Hills, Kadamba Rajya
Dwapara Yuga
Perched on a smooth boulder by the river, Kruthavarma immersed himself in the symphony of rushing waters, a tranquil lullaby echoing as they cascaded over rocks and pebbles. Sunlight played upon the river's surface, crafting a shimmering pathway that mirrored the vast sky above.
As the cool water lovingly caressed his feet, he absorbed the enchanting scene before him. His fingers instinctively tapped a tuneless melody on the rough surface, a manifestation of his restless energy.
Kruthavarma embodied passion, his exuberance radiating from within. He couldn't keep still, his hands seeking any surface to drum upon, his feet bouncing with restless energy.
Engaging in physical activity granted him a brief respite from the torrent of racing thoughts that besieged him from all angles. He yearned for that tangible connection to reality, a grounding force to anchor him. During his youth, his uncle and aunt had provided that stability, and during his teenage years, his closest friend and lover had been his steadfast companion, keeping him firmly rooted in the present.
The allure of sword fighting held him captivated, enticed by the resonating swish of blades slicing through the air and the resounding clanging of weapons. The mere sight of his mentor training with their disciple left him utterly spellbound, eyes fixed on the deadly symphony that unfolded before him.
It was a harmonious blend of agile and graceful movements, where the fighters, akin to lightning incarnate, moved with lethal precision, their every action a testament to their expertise. The gleaming swords they wielded carried an air of purpose, leaving behind ethereal trails of ominous intent.
As Kruthavarma observed, his own heart raced with a heady mix of exhilaration and awe, wholly captivated by the sheer intensity and artistic finesse that unfurled before his eyes.
However, despite the vibrant energy that consumed him, no amount of drumming could dispel the thoughts that now haunted his mind.
He was about to reunite with his beloved Chandran after years of separation, his moon, his star, and his entire universe. The distance between them may have kept them apart, but Kruthavarma knew that his heart had always belonged to Chandran.
Yet, uncertainties plagued him. Would Chandran still love him? When their eyes met again, would they still sparkle with affection? Could he still evoke that look of adoration that hid behind Chandran's stoic face and the shy smile reserved only for him?
These questions tormented him, causing sleepless nights filled with worry and doubt. He didn't know how he would cope if Chandran rejected his love, dismissing it as mere teenage infatuation.
And now, he had a little brother, just like he had always wished for. Life hadn't been easy for him since his parents passed away when he was a little child, and his aunt and uncle, who had taken care of him, couldn't have children of their own. But finally, their prayers had been answered by Mahadeva, and his heart swelled with happiness for them.
The letter from his aunt practically oozed joy as she poured out her love for his brother. She couldn't contain her excitement, gushing about every little thing his brother said or did. Reading those words filled his heart with warmth, knowing that his aunt's love for his brother was overflowing.
They deserved all the happiness in the world, and he couldn't help but be intrigued by his brother's arrival. His heart ached for the pain of separation that his brother had experienced, yet he was amazed by his talent for creating a new art form. He hoped with all his might that he could become someone his younger brother could look up to, someone who would make him proud.
He knew he had to take charge of the court, for there were those who would exploit his brother as a weapon, seeking to sow discord and fracture the unity of the kingdom.
The realization struck him deeply: his uncle's deliberate omission of Ahyan as his own son had been driven by this very concern. Determined not to repeat the mistakes of the past which costed him his parents, his aunt's inability to have children, he vowed to shield his family's happiness from the corrosive influence of politics.
He made a solemn promise to himself. He would shower his little brother with love and adoration, spoiling him with so much care that he would forget all about his difficult past. Together, they would create a new home filled with love and happiness, leaving behind the shadows of the past and embracing the bright future that awaited them.
With a swift and practiced movement, he swung himself onto the back of his majestic pure white horse, Vajra. Gripping the reins firmly, he couldn't contain his excitement as he looked ahead to the final leg of his journey.
"I can't wait to be home and see their faces after my surprise visit," he declared, a mischievous glint lighting up his eyes. His hands rubbed together in anticipation, creating a faint rustling sound in the still air.
The sun bathed the landscape in a warm glow, casting long shadows as he urged Vajra forward. The rhythmic sound of hooves echoed through the open fields, accompanied by the gentle jingle of harness and stirrups.
Dhawaladhaara, Hastinapura outskirts
Kuru Rajya, Dwapara Yuga
The white-capped mountains shimmered like rose gold, basking in the warm light of dawn. Life stirred from its deep slumber of the dark night as the sky blushed with delicate pinks and mauves in the east, signaling the sun's arrival. The morning breeze gently rustled the leaves and carried the soothing scents of blooming flowers. Sunlight danced through the dense trees, playing hide and seek, and casting a golden orange glow on the mossy ground.
A tall man with a slender body offered his prayers to the god of light, the one without whom the earth would be devoid of life.
In his previous life, he always felt a connection to the bringer of day, who rode a golden chariot pulled by seven white horses, but he never understood why until it was too late. Water trickled down his palms, his long and nimble fingers resembling glistening diamonds in the sunlight.
His fair skin had a golden glow, as if the light enveloped him, assuring him that everything would be alright and sheltering him from the world in a warm cocoon of safety and comfort. It felt secure and dependable, like a father's love.
Why couldn't he realize it then, when it was right before his eyes? Would his life have taken a different path if he had, or would he have repeated the same sins?
Karna shook his head to get rid of the stray thoughts from the dark corners of his mind, plunging him to the bottomless sea of self loath and guilt. Since his rebirth, this torment had plagued his soul incessantly.
His once righteous anger, which had scorched the earth, had vanished, replaced by a suffocating fog of self-hatred, remorse, and shame. The fiery eyes and confident stride he once possessed had given way to vacant stares and a ghostly presence. He was now but a hollow shell of his former self, like the sun swallowed by the immortal serpent during an eclipse.
Only the arrows cutting through the air extended a lifeline, preventing him from drowning completely. His love for archery and his unwavering determination to do whatever it took to avert the tragic fate of his friend, now also his cousin, Suyodhana, and his brothers, the Kauravas, provided his sole purpose for staying alive.
He pulled the bowstring taut, feeling the vibrations ripple through the air. Focusing his gaze on the bullseye painted on the robust devadar tree, whose strength rivaled the mountains in the distance, everything around him faded into oblivion.
It was just him and the target. He could sense the coolness of the metal arrow beneath his fingertips, while the carvings on the bow's handle lightly pressed against his other palm. The magnificent golden bow gleamed under the sun, shimmering with the blessings of the Devi. With a swift release, the arrow shot forth like a beam of light, striking the trunk of the tree with deadly precision, hitting the bullseye.
After practicing archery for what seemed like an hour, Karna made his way back to his home—a humble wooden cabin adorned with only the necessities: utensils, a cot, his arrows and quiver, a collection of weapons including knives and daggers, and a small assortment of clothes. If anyone were to stumble upon it, they would mistake it for sage's dwelling rather than of the former king of Anga.
After a quick breakfast of roasted deer from his previous day's hunt, accompanied by forest fruits and beets that the verdant woods offered, Karna's hunger pangs were finally satiated. He readied himself once again for another session of archery practice.
His determination to emerge victorious against Arjuna in the kalapradarshan burned within him, despite the uneasy knots that twisted in his stomach at the mere thought of facing his long-time rival. Memories of their last confrontation, the moment he had tasted his first death, still lingered vividly in his mind. But now he have to fight without the advantage of his celestial earrings and impentrable armour.
Confusion clouded Karna's feelings towards the Pandavas. They were his brothers by blood, and yet the connection had never truly felt like kinship, even after the revelation from his birth mother.
Their relationship remained a tempestuous and complex web woven with strands of jealousy, hatred, regret, and rivalry. Karna doubted that this would change now, but he hoped, at the very least, they could maintain a formal and neutral stance towards each other, refraining from provoking the favorites of Madhava.
Then there was Suyodhana, his cherished comrade, a platonic soulmate, and a brother in arms—a kinship that extended to every aspect of his being. Karna grappled with the overwhelming challenge of facing him without succumbing to emotional breakdown, resisting the urge to crumble into tears when he should appear as a stranger.
With a million emotions swirling in his eyes, yet a stoic expression upon his face, Karna fixed his gaze towards Hastinapura, preparing himself for the impending battle against both himself and the hands of destiny.
He followed his familiar routine, nourishing himself with a meal and tirelessly practicing his archery until the bark of the target tree was mercilessly torn apart by his arrows. As the sky turned a deep, velvety black, a sign of his celestial father's return to his kingdom, Karna knew it was time to rest.
Returning to the sanctuary of his modest home, he lay upon the cot after refreshing himself. Closing his eyes, he offered silent prayers to his departed parents and the benevolent mother goddess, seeking their divine blessings for success as he embarked on his journey to Hastinapura. Within the depths of his being, he fortified his resolve to confront every challenge and face every person with unwavering determination.
"Here I come, Suyodhana, to change our intertwined destinies," he whispered to the caress of the night breeze, hoping that the wind god would carry his heartfelt words to his cherished friend.
Glossary:
• Suvarna - common currency in Aryavarta but kingdoms also have their own currencies