He was walking along the Cliffside.
He knew he should not be roaming like this unprotected, not with the war still raging on...and he was one of the prime targets.
But he was. His boy was playing nearby, and he wanted to keep an eye on him. Or maybe because he knew that there may not be a lot of time left to spend with his youngest son. He had had his little son brought to him in the battlefield, although his boy was really too young too fight...just to get a feel of his nearness. Just to feel a touch of any purity left in the life that seemed more and more meaningless everyday to him.
It was getting dark. The father made to call out to his son to make him go home. The little tyke loved playing at bows and arrows...just as he once had. Now, even his skill, the thrill of hearing the swish of arrows cutting the air and the deeply satisfying pierce of a mark breached seemed violent, unnecessary...and what was it? a detached sense of regret for life wasted in a war that ate away everything happy and pure?
And then he heard the high voice of his son chirping away happily. Talking to someone.
"dekha aapne? Iss baar mera Vaan kitna door tak gya?" boastfully.
There was no reply.
"waise ek baat puchu? Aap roz sham ko yaha akele kyun baithe rehte hain? Aur aap ro bhi rahe the"
Still no reply.
Curious he moved forward to see his son aiming at a tree...and trying to imitate him, his father as much as possible...and still chattering away to the person sitting silently watching his son.
"Mere Pitashree kehte hai, ki veer kabhi ankho me aansu nahi laaate. Par vo bhi rote hai, maine dekha hai."
Suddenly while trying to imitate the stance of his father, his son stepped too near to the edge off the cliff. He hurried forward his heart thumping for his precious son, to save him.
But the stranger had already lunged forward...and with a mighty sweep of his arm, pulled his son to safety. But it was the person's cry that accompanied the swiftness of this action, which stopped him short.
"ABHIMANYU!!"
His son shaken but unharmed, squirmed his way off his saviour's lap...and pouted""kitni baar bola aapko---mera naam hai Vrushakethu.mere saath boliye---V-R-U-S-H-A-K-E-T-H-U". Waise ye abimanyu kaun tha?"
And then Karna saw the hated face of his lifelong Foe , His Brother by birth, his worst competitor and the man who had just now saved his son's life crack in pain.
And the arrogant, brave, deep tones which had once borne testimony to the capacity of their owner to move mountains and fight to win, the proud prince who he knew was as good as and maybe even better, it had never been decided, than him in battle of arrows...that hated, yet somewhere respected voice had turned hollow in pain...it had become not the voice of the great warrior who could wipe out armies with his gandiva and his immaculate aim...but of a man who had nothing left.
"Abhimanyu was my son" Arjuna said ,"and the greatest warrior i have ever known"."I hope to make him Proud of me" he said in a detached manner putting vrushakethu down from his lap.
Vrushakethu suddenly spied his father standing in the darkness and ran to him.
"Pitashree...ye abhimanyu ke pita hai... Abhimanyu naam ke kisi ke marne par hi aapro rahe the nahaapne kaha tha ye ek maut aapko sabse zyada pira deti hai...ye aapki sabse badi bhool hai..ek Yodha hoke ek Yodha ka anyay vadh? Abhimanyu ke pitashree se maafi maang lijiye na pitashree? Ye bhi ro rahe the."
Arjuna turned and saw Karna and his son in surprise.
"Angraj Karn? Ye Aapka putra hai?" and his surprised tone suddenly lost the hollow quality and became stiff. and his eyes spoke of only death for any man who had contributed to his Son's death and his wife's dishonour. It was no longer a competitor's will to be the best. It was Revenge.
Arjuna started to stride away.
And then vrushakethu's little hand slipped into his rough and callus covered bowstring ravaged palm.
"arre apne kaha tha ki aap mujhe dhanush pe partancha baandhna sikha denge? Aur aapko pata hai...aap na bilkul mere kakashri Shon ke tarah baat karte hai"
Karna saw Arjun's face suddenly soften...the look he had seen there when he had seen arjuna drop his gandiva when facing his enemies on the first day of kurukshetra...while gazing at his brothers, his best friend Krishna or his---their mother kunti.
And then it hardened again. "par mai tumhara kakashri nahi hoon vrushakethu" he corrected vrushakethu...or maybe he stopped himself from seeing abhimanyu in the offspring of his son's killer.
But Karna saw something----something which proved the inaccuracy of arjuna's statement...the hazel eyes of the dark Savyasachi which were hiding grief...and his son's enquiring one yet untouched by grief----were exactly alike and so was the turn of their heads. The call of Blood is a strange thing----it can make itself felt anytime anyplace...and in the midst of any setting.
Karna felt the same anguish when arjuna fierce in battle the next day killed three of his elder sons and Nakula three more of his young.
And at the end of the battle which destroyed everything...arjuna felt it too----the call of blood which made him know that he had had revenge on his own brother karna when he was unarmed, just as karna had killed his nephew abhimanyu in unfair war...and that call one day drew arjuna and his nephew vrushakethu together...in a bond of love and forgiveness and mutual trust.
Anupamaa
