HARIHARESHWARI 17 - राजाधिराजेन्द्रकुमारी

CHAPTER 104

The sun beat down on the golden sands as Karn walked along the ocean shore, the salty air filling his lungs. He held a bow in one hand, its sleek curves gleaming in the sunlight, while a sword, its hilt intricately carved, hung from his waist. He had been training under Parshuram for several months now, and the progress he had made was astounding.

A sense of contentment washed over him. Life under the tutelage of Parshuram was rigorous, demanding, but immensely rewarding. The revered lord, impressed by Karn's unwavering dedication and his insatiable thirst for knowledge, had generously shared his wisdom, imparting to him the secrets of various celestial weapons, their invocation, and their use.

Karn, his heart brimming with pride, felt a sense of exhilaration. He had surpassed even his wildest expectations. He was learning at an unprecedented pace, mastering skills that were beyond the comprehension of most warriors. He felt a surge of confidence, a renewed sense of purpose. He would soon surpass Arjun, not just in archery, but in every aspect of warfare.

He continued his walk along the shore, the rhythmic crashing of the waves against the sand a soothing counterpoint to the turbulent emotions within him. He had come a long way, overcoming numerous obstacles, to reach this point. He had defied Dronacharya, defied the established order, and found a Guru who recognized his true potential. Now, armed with the knowledge of divine weapons, he was ready to reclaim his destiny, to prove to the world, and to himself, that he was indeed the greatest warrior of his time.

Lost in his thoughts, he barely registered the sound of approaching footsteps. Assuming it to be a wild animal, a stray boar or perhaps a deer, he instinctively raised his bow. He nocked an arrow, his fingers instinctively finding the familiar groove, his gaze fixed on the unseen threat.

With a practiced ease, he drew the bowstring back, aiming at the unseen target. Then, with a swift, decisive motion, he loosed the arrow. It soared through the air, a streak of white against the azure sky, finding its mark with deadly accuracy. Karn heard the arrow strike its target with a satisfying thud. He felt a surge of pride. He had hit the unseen target with perfect accuracy, a testament to his growing mastery of archery.

But then, a sound reached his ears – a low, mournful mooing.

A look of terror slowly washed over Karn's face. He had hit a domestic animal. And by the sound of it, it was not a wild boar or a deer. It was a cow.

He followed the sound, his heart pounding with dread. He found himself standing before a cow, its large, gentle eyes staring at him with a mixture of pain and reproach. The arrow, lodged in its side, twitched slightly.

He had killed a cow.

Karn's blood ran cold. He recognized this cow. It belonged to the elderly Brahmin who lived near their hermitage, a kind and gentle soul who relied on the cow for his daily Agnihotra rituals.

"Anjaane mei Go-hatya ka paap mujhse ho gaya.... Hey Ishvar...." The words tasted like ash in his mouth. He had unknowingly violated one of the most sacred tenets of the scriptures – the killing of a cow.

He ran a hand through his hair, his frustration and guilt evident. How could he have been so careless? He, who had been striving for perfection, for mastery over his senses, had succumbed to a moment of recklessness. The sight of the lifeless cow, its gentle eyes staring vacantly at the sky, filled him with a profound sense of remorse.

Karn joined his hands in reverence, his head bowed in shame. He knew he had to atone for his sin. He turned towards the hut of the elderly Brahmin, his heart heavy with guilt and apprehension. He had to apologize for his transgression and seek forgiveness from the wronged Brahmin.

With a heavy heart, he turned and headed towards the hut of the Brahmin, the guilt weighing heavily on his conscience. The Brahmin, a man of simple faith, was engaged in his daily evening rituals. He sat before a small fire, chanting mantras and offering oblations to the gods. The rhythmic chanting filled the air, creating a sense of tranquility.