‘For freedom, Lord Krishna,’ Karna said. His awkwardness had all but dissipated. As expected. ‘The freedom to choose their vocation, the freedom to pursue their dreams… You gave us food, clothing and coin. That’s the very question they are concerned with. Why is it that Reshts do not already possess all these things? Why must they be bestowed as munificence by you? You are mistaking quiet for peace, My Lord.’

‘Poverty…it’s as simple as that,’ Krishna shrugged. ‘Don’t make it a caste thing. It’s not just the Reshts. There are poor Namins as well. Ask your own Acharya Dron how he managed to make ends meet before the Ksharjas of Hastinapur took him under their shade. Likewise, there are poor Ksharjas. The Valkas live in forests, with only fruits and their own hunting skills to feed them. And similarly, there are rich Reshts. The revered author of the Ramayana was a Resht. In fact, Prince Duryodhan’s own great-grandmother was a fisherwoman; as lowborn as they come. Equality is just a myth Lord Karna, like the Daevas. It all boils down to ability. If the Reshts aren’t permitted to pick up arms, neither are the Drachmas or the Namins. Similarly, the Ksharjas aren’t permitted to read sacred texts or till the fields. Every caste has its own chains.’

‘If only it was that simple,’ Karna shook his head sadly. ‘The Resht shall never live in the mansions made of the wood they tear from the trees. The Resht shall never taste the wheat they grow in your fields. The Resht shall never learn the letters on the scrolls they cure from animal skin. And the Resht cannot even think to protest, for the Resht is forbidden to have a voice. If the Reshts were only meant to toil for you like cattle in the field, then why did the Gods give them desires? Why give them the ability to grieve? Chains?’ Karna scoffed. ‘The Reshts die in bondage while the riches of the world, be it knowledge, land or coin, are carved up between the Namins, the Ksharjas, and the Drachmas. To be honest, I find it ironic that you are arguing this with the caste mark erased on your neck. Not everyone is offered such a chance.’

‘But does it justify what comes with violence?’ Krishna asked. ‘The Red Blades is a militant group. That means there will be many lives lost. Is it worth it?’

‘The end justifies the means,’ Karna said, his voice suddenly harsh.

‘Any end achieved through violence ends in a pit of despair. It is not a destination to aspire to, my friend.’

‘Then you should never have usurped the Mathuran throne,’ Karna retorted hotly.

Krishna saw Sudama clutch Karna’s hand, as if to calm him.

‘They are not the same, Lord Karna’ Krishna said, a smile playing on his lips.

A serving man who had come to offer Karna another plate of kulfis, hurried away seeing Karna’s face. Experience had taught him to identify moments when a man had no interest in putting anything icy into his mouth.