intrigued.
‘Radheya has always been a rebel against caste and the social hierarchy,’ her mother-in-law said, after a brief pause. ‘He has constantly been cruelly reminded that as a sutaputra, he cannot aspire to more than he deserves, but he believes in his own worth and is contemptuous of those inferior to him in merit. And he did not hesitate to ask Drona, who had refused to train him with the Kuru princes, why he could not be taught by him. He asked why the royals were so privileged—were they blessed with special gifts like a hundred arms? Why do they get this importance? Moreover, if Dronacharya taught only kshatriyas, then how did his son, Ashwatthama, a brahmin, qualify to learn the art of warfare from his father? Radheya’s impertinence infuriated Dronacharya and he was curtly told to leave the ashram. But Ashwatthama, who had witnessed this conversation in mute admiration, was clearly impressed with Radheya. From that day, they became close friends. In fact, it was Ashwatthama who informed Karna about the celebrated archery contest at Hastinapur, and persuaded him to participate in it.’
‘Karna could not stop himself from going there uninvited, so he gatecrashed at the contest at Hastinapur,’ Uruvi sighed deeply, remembering that momentous day, the day life changed so irrevocably for her…and for Karna.
‘Yes, I was so worried that I sent Adhiratha to see what was happening, and he followed Radheya to the grounds where the contest was being held.’
Because of his foster father’s unsolicited presence there, Karna had to admit to his lineage and was publicly heckled by the Pandavas. The incident still rankled in Uruvi’s mind and she was enraged when she recalled the humiliation Karna was forced to suffer. If it could upset her so much even today, Uruvi wondered how intensely it must have affected Karna. Ashwatthama could have done little to help his friend, and the saviour of the moment had been Duryodhana instead. After that, a lasting friendship between Karna and Duryodhana began, which few could fathom but most disapproved of, she being one of them. Uruvi pursed her lips tightly in rising frustration.
Like Duryodhana, Ashwatthama befriended Karna unconditionally, without any bias or reservation. Karna and Ashwatthama were strangely similar—both were loved dearly by their families but not socially accepted. Ashwatthama’s parents loved him exceedingly, yet he was ignored by others for no fault of his own, and he had no friend to boast of except Karna, who was an outcast himself. Perhaps that was why they empathised with each other so well, Uruvi deduced. His father’s staunch disapproval of the friendship did not deter the son.
She recalled Ashwatthama as a young lad, a serious, quiet boy, always courteous and obedient. Being older than the Kuru princes and her, he did not join in their games at the palace gardens. And as far as she could remember, neither the Kaurava princes nor the Pandavas treated him too well; they were flippant with him, as if they tolerated him just because he was their guru’s son. He used to watch them with his solemn eyes, his face always grave and impassive. She recalled him revealing some emotion only when he looked visibly displeased at the blatant favouritism his father showed for Arjuna. If the guru frowned on the friendship between his son and the sutaputra, the son resented the strong bond between his father and Arjuna, the proud guru and his devoted shishya (disciple).
As the only son of Dronacharya and Kripi, Ashwatthama was the centre of their existence. But as Dronacharya was dreadfully poor before he came to Hastinapur, the son bore the brunt of their poverty. Ironically, it was their great love for their son that strained the relationship between Dronacharya and his wife Kripi. And it was because of his great love for his son that Dronacharya earned a sworn enemy in his once-upon-a-time friend, King Drupad of Panchal.
The story about Ashwatthama,
‘Radheya has always been a rebel against caste and the social hierarchy,’ her mother-in-law said, after a brief pause. ‘He has constantly been cruelly reminded that as a sutaputra, he cannot aspire to more than he deserves, but he believes in his own worth and is contemptuous of those inferior to him in merit. And he did not hesitate to ask Drona, who had refused to train him with the Kuru princes, why he could not be taught by him. He asked why the royals were so privileged—were they blessed with special gifts like a hundred arms? Why do they get this importance? Moreover, if Dronacharya taught only kshatriyas, then how did his son, Ashwatthama, a brahmin, qualify to learn the art of warfare from his father? Radheya’s impertinence infuriated Dronacharya and he was curtly told to leave the ashram. But Ashwatthama, who had witnessed this conversation in mute admiration, was clearly impressed with Radheya. From that day, they became close friends. In fact, it was Ashwatthama who informed Karna about the celebrated archery contest at Hastinapur, and persuaded him to participate in it.’
‘Karna could not stop himself from going there uninvited, so he gatecrashed at the contest at Hastinapur,’ Uruvi sighed deeply, remembering that momentous day, the day life changed so irrevocably for her…and for Karna.
‘Yes, I was so worried that I sent Adhiratha to see what was happening, and he followed Radheya to the grounds where the contest was being held.’
Because of his foster father’s unsolicited presence there, Karna had to admit to his lineage and was publicly heckled by the Pandavas. The incident still rankled in Uruvi’s mind and she was enraged when she recalled the humiliation Karna was forced to suffer. If it could upset her so much even today, Uruvi wondered how intensely it must have affected Karna. Ashwatthama could have done little to help his friend, and the saviour of the moment had been Duryodhana instead. After that, a lasting friendship between Karna and Duryodhana began, which few could fathom but most disapproved of, she being one of them. Uruvi pursed her lips tightly in rising frustration.
Like Duryodhana, Ashwatthama befriended Karna unconditionally, without any bias or reservation. Karna and Ashwatthama were strangely similar—both were loved dearly by their families but not socially accepted. Ashwatthama’s parents loved him exceedingly, yet he was ignored by others for no fault of his own, and he had no friend to boast of except Karna, who was an outcast himself. Perhaps that was why they empathised with each other so well, Uruvi deduced. His father’s staunch disapproval of the friendship did not deter the son.
She recalled Ashwatthama as a young lad, a serious, quiet boy, always courteous and obedient. Being older than the Kuru princes and her, he did not join in their games at the palace gardens. And as far as she could remember, neither the Kaurava princes nor the Pandavas treated him too well; they were flippant with him, as if they tolerated him just because he was their guru’s son. He used to watch them with his solemn eyes, his face always grave and impassive. She recalled him revealing some emotion only when he looked visibly displeased at the blatant favouritism his father showed for Arjuna. If the guru frowned on the friendship between his son and the sutaputra, the son resented the strong bond between his father and Arjuna, the proud guru and his devoted shishya (disciple).
As the only son of Dronacharya and Kripi, Ashwatthama was the centre of their existence. But as Dronacharya was dreadfully poor before he came to Hastinapur, the son bore the brunt of their poverty. Ironically, it was their great love for their son that strained the relationship between Dronacharya and his wife Kripi. And it was because of his great love for his son that Dronacharya earned a sworn enemy in his once-upon-a-time friend, King Drupad of Panchal.
The story about Ashwatthama,
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