A Different Path

Karna

Karna stared at the clouds creeping in from the right, amorphous and heavy, cutting off the sunlight and engulfing the world in darkness. The air sizzled with electricity and the sky looked ready to crack, roar and unleash its wrath upon them. A frightful thunderstorm was on its way. The trees swayed left and right; the wind picking up speed even as hapless servants hurried around him, trying to close the gigantic doors and windows before the gale disrupted even a single hair of the courtiers standing around him. He stepped away from the window and glanced at the magnificent courtroom, absolutely resplendent with the golden throne occupying the position of honor on the elevated dais. His gaze fell upon the high-vaulted ceiling with wooden beams from wherein hung a majestic glass chandelier right in the center. The courtroom was certainly breathtaking though he wondered whether the man who occupied the treasured throne cared much for it. He doubted his friend who had borne acute hardship early on in his life would be much affected by such ostentatious display of wealth and affluence meant to intimidate every visitor. 

Breathing out a weary sigh, he closed his eyes, knowing that the gaze of everyone in the chamber was upon him. The lack of subtlety was surprising considering this was a courtroom and not the battlefield. Here power was demonstrated not through superiority in combat and warfare, but through careful and meticulous mind games that he found more tiring than shooting arrows in the same position all night. Swords were substituted by slander, maces with malice and daggers exchanged for deceit. The clash of ethics and ambition was commonplace, and it was often fun to see which one finally won in the end. He remembered his own stint as the ruler of Anga, watching the noblemen in bemusement as they fought to be in the king's good graces. It was a relief when they realized that he would not be persuaded by spurious fawning, but only by the strength of their character.

He turned to the chief advisor to the King, an old beefy man with a mane of silvery hair that ran to the middle of his chest. Bhadran was dressed in fine yellow silk and seemed eager to please him despite the fact that he was no longer a king. Heck, he was actively despised throughout the entire Bharatvarsh, mocked and ridiculed for trying to break through the chains of centuries old caste system that had weighed down on his shoulders for as long as he remembered.

"Will it take him long?"

He had meant it to sound cool and nonchalant, but the words came out in a muffled garble, washed with emotion he hadn't learnt how to hide.

The Chief Advisor sighed and adjusted his turban, sneaking a glance at the dark gloomy weather outside. "His Majesty went hunting with his bodyguards deep into the hinterlands which is why it took so long to reach him. He should arrive in a few minutes."

Karna interlocked his fingers firmly, trying to ignore the pounding in his heart or the fact that no matter what he did, his hands wouldn't stop shaking. A feeling of weakness, suppression and nausea hit him hard, and it took every bit of self-respect to not break down then and there. He wasn't even sure he would be welcomed. It wouldn't surprise him if he wasn't. Judging by the way things had unfolded after his departure he was convinced that his friend would certainly harbour some resentment for him. For even though he was a wise, learned man, Ashwatthama, like the rest of them, was also a slave to his heart. It would take a special kind of discipline and control to completely detach one's mind from humane emotions, and he doubted anyone, even his friend could possibly accomplish a feat like that.

Thunder growled behind him and he could hear the soft pattering of rain against the glass windows, their melody soothing his frayed nerves. Just then a strange thought crossed his mind. What if Ashwatthama didn't want to meet him? Why would anyone go hunting in this weather anyways?