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.

Shakuni sighed. Ah, so it is going to be Karna who wins Draupadi. What a predictable tournament this has turned out to be. Suddenly, some instinct made him scan the crowd, then the royal dais, then the throne. The suspended cages of the entertainers were unlatched and open. One of the knife-throwers was looking intently at Shakuni. He felt the wine burn in his throat. Ah…I have a bad feeling about this.

KARNA had a good feeling about his chances as he heard his name called. If there was anything more nerve-wracking than throwing away an opportunity, it was the exhilaration of grabbing it. His breath quickened as he walked into the arena. The noise of the crowd faded into the background. He saw only the bow. His instrument. His one true God. It had stayed with him throughout his cursed life. He could not fail it.