He bent down one knee and looked down at the reflection of the fish revolving on the wheel above. Time slowed. Everything receded from his mind. The wheel began to move slower and slower… till it stopped moving. He saw the body of the fish in great detail. The gold had faded from its skin and what remained was a silvery mass. He could see the rotting scales... And then he saw nothing but the eye of the fish. He waited for his moment. Haste was after all the invisible pothole before the gates of glory. He stretched the bowstring back, hearing its familiar music in his ears. For you Mother….

‘Stop! He is a Resht! I will not marry his kind.’

Pain pierced Karna’s heart with searing intensity. He knew her voice. He had heard it a thousand times in a thousand dreams in the course of one night. But the words she spoke were impossible. The voice was the same, but the woman who spoke was cruel. It was not the Draupadi he knew, not the woman he had come to, as ridiculous as it sounded now to him, fallen in love with. Invisible hands grabbed Karna by the throat, threatening to choke the life out of him. A stunned silence fell on the arena. Then the crowd began to whisper and snicker, rant and rage.

‘Blasphemy! How can she insult a suitor this way?’

‘The Princess is right! He is a cur!’

‘Oi! You don’t get to choose!’

‘This is most improper!’

‘He is the Highmaster of Anga, Princess!’ Karna heard a voice roar from the tiers. Bhurishravas. ‘And you will give him the respect he deserves, or I will destroy your Royal family and burn down your palace for this insult!’

Several Panchalan nobles responded with the choicest of slurs on Bhurishravas’ parentage. These were returned in kind by the Ksharjas on Karna’s side.

A silvery voice called out, ‘Friends…let not the flame of our hearts rule the judgement of our minds. No one has to burn anything.’ Krishna emerged into the light and turned towards Bhurishravas. ‘Indeed, he is a Highmaster, Prince. But this is the swayamvar of Princess Draupadi, and as such, her choice is paramount, don’t you think?’ he asked the rhetorical question gently.

‘Since when do we listen to the clucking of women?’ Shakuni asked, and someone sniggered.

Draupadi was weeping hysterically, repeating He is a Resht! again and again like a mad woman. The Resht tiers bellowed their disapproval, thumped their chests and raised threatening fists, as did many Ksharjas.

‘Let the King settle it!’ cried one voice.

‘What do the scriptures say about this?’ called another.

Karna was no longer listening. He remembered his time in Acharya Parshuram’s hermitage. The pain of wounds endured, the shrap of his teacher, the violence he had seen, had done…nothing hurt more than the six poisonous words from Draupadi’s mouth: I will not marry his kind! The woman he thought he would love to the end of his days, the woman he would have done anything for. She was repulsed by the very idea of their being together.