Shishupal sighed happily. ‘I am so glad I withdrew.’

Bhurishravas nodded. ‘You and me both, my friend.’

Bahlika turned to Karna, a gleam in his eyes. ‘Well, Highmaster, what do you think? Is it possible?’

Karna smiled. ‘Too easy, Your Grace.’

KARNA found it difficult, however, not to stare at Draupadi. She looked ethereal. Her hair was a mane of red wine ringlets that fell all the way to her hips. Her blouse was an airy confection of Mathuran lace, sheer crimson silk, and seed pearls. A complimenting embroidered dupatta5 covered her head. Her burgundy tiered skirt was long, with resham flowers at the waist and a contrasting gold frill at the hem. Her gold bangles were embedded with red coral roses, as was the maang tika6 that accentuated her lovely forehead.

‘What now, Uncle?’ Sudama asked.

‘I must ride around the arena in a chariot. For a change, I will be sitting instead of driving it.’

Sudama gawped. His grandfather Adirath, came from a long line of charioteers but never had one of his family been bestowed the honour of being driven in a chariot. He kissed Karna proudly on the cheeks, tears in his eyes.

‘I know…’ Karna clasped the back of his nephew’s head as he touched his forehead to the boy’s. None in the arena, save the two of them, could in that moment fathom the dream of the countless Reshts, that Karna was about to fulfil by simply stepping into the back of a chariot.

And so it was that the suitors rode in chariots drawn by matched horses, sitting in haughty silence, brandishing their weapons of choice. The scene was rather heroic, and the musicians outdid themselves playing different tunes for each suitor. Karna found himself behind Vrihatkshatra, the Kekeya Chieftain from the West.

Once the Kekeya had proudly circled the arena, unsheathed sword in hand, the announcer finally called: Karna, Lord Highmaster of Anga! Karna rose. He had decided not to wear a shirt for he certainly could not afford anything as expensive-looking as his own breastplate. The best part was that none suspected it was part of his skin, for it passed off as a thin gold-coated chainmail shirt. He saw his chariot being led into the enclosure, the snow white steeds boasting tasteful saddle-cloths glittering with topaz. Where are the horses I rented?

The stableboy leading in the horses handed him a tightly rolled scroll, the wax seal embossed with the red eagle of the Hastina Union. Karna broke the seal and unrolled the parchment: Your time has come, my friend. The arena is all yours. I know you will win. And by winning, you will achieve what you have wanted all your life –a place amongst heroes that is rightfully yours. Show them!