‘Can he do it?’ Bahlika asked.

‘I don’t know…’ Karna murmured. ‘The strain on the back from such exertion will make it very difficult to align the bow for any length of time. He would have to shoot immediately.’

Jarasandh stretched his arms and picked up the bow again, using his gargantuan strength. As Karna had foretold, he did not hold the bow high for long. One look at the reflection below and the long wooden arrow whistled and screeched through the air, piercing the wheel with a resounding thud. All eyes were on the reflection of the fish in the mirrors. The arrow had lodged cleanly on one of the spokes of the wheel. Jaws dropped, but none more than Krishna’s.

The crowd rose to their feet to applaud Jarasandh. Even Karna clapped with genuine admiration though Shakuni could see sweat trickle down his face. Jarasandh merely eyed the target with devastating menace, threw the bow down where he had picked it up, without unstringing it, and walked back to leave the arena.

Public acclaim, however, is a fickle mistress and the crowd was already cheering the next suitor, Uttara, a handsome youth from Virata. The Contest went on, even as the sun rose into the noon sky. Servants kept cups filled. Wagers flew. The King’s Fool, dancing about on stilts, made mock of every suitor with such deft cruelty that even Shakuni ended up spilling wine on himself, laughing hysterically.

If the suitors who followed thought Jarasandh had made their task easier by stringing the bow, they could not have been further from the truth. The bow was still heavy to lift. Most failed. Two did pick up the bow, but missed the target. One focussed so hard on the bowl of water he fell over, dragged down by the weight of the great bow. Another’s arrow bounced off one of the cages holding a juggler, much to the delight of the crowd.

It was early evening before Karna’s turn came. Shakuni suspected he had been placed last in the list in the hope that one of the others would pip him. The first to complete the task always won, unless another successful candidate challenged him to a duel that was accepted by the first. But that would not be required today. No one had won so far. The crowd was restless now. The fate of their Princess hung in the balance. If no one won, it would not only be considered an ill omen, the suitors would also raise a hue and cry at being insulted with an unachievable task. Shakuni could already see the Panchalan Guards sweating nervously under their helmets.

The announcer hesitated briefly, then called for the second time that day: Karna, Highmaster of Anga, representing the Hastina Union.