Note: If you are unfamiliar with the
Indian epic Mahabharat, you may not be able to understand significant
portions of this article.
The passing
on of actor Pankaj Dheer a few weeks ago resulted in my Twitter timeline - and
my mind - getting flooded with memories of the glorious Mahabharat.
The series took India by storm when it was aired on national television
between 1988 and 1990. The faces of the
actors have, over time, become inextricably linked to what we imagine of the
characters in the epic. Dheer turned in
a magnificent performance as Karna, arguably one of the most fascinating
characters of the epic. His recent death
brought back memories of a time when I rooted for the Karna character, even
though I knew the eventuality. I
remember feeling indignant when Karna, before the war, was tricked into parting with his protective armor (the kavach) and earrings (the kundal),
elements that were meant to make him physically invincible. And how despite this, his brilliance as an
archer meant that there was no straightforward way of defeating him. At the same time, the passing of Dheer also
made me pause and reflect on how my perception of Karna, and by extension, friendship, has evolved over time.
The TV
series was first aired between my ages of seven and nine. Karna was truly special to me. There was something endearing about how
loyalty, as a trait, drove his life’s choices.
The way he treated the parents who adopted him, his gurus and, above
all, his friend Duryodhana, were all marked by the core value of
loyalty. That the undying loyalty was,
in a way, the root cause of his death at the hands of Arjuna, felt utterly
unfair. He was, like Bheeshma, a
fundamentally good man on the ‘wrong’ side.
That Karna’s death also carried a life lesson with it, was not something
that I fully realized when the series was aired. At that time, my dominant feeling was that he
deserved better. Over time, I began to view
him differently.
In some
ways, Karna made us see the best of Duryodhana while Duryodhana made us see the
worst of Karna. We instinctively
associate Karna with putting friendship on a pedestal. But Duryodhana, for all his flaws, was a
fantastic friend too. He never looked down
upon his friend despite the apparent differences in their socio-economic
status. When Karna felt insulted by
Bheeshma in the initial stages of the war, Duryodhana did not take advantage of
Karna’s inherently grateful attitude for his own benefit. And when Karna lost his life, you could sense
that the loss crippled Duryodhana emotionally more than the deaths of his 99 brothers
put together. On the other hand, Karna’s
words and actions during the horror meted out to Draupadi and the slaying of
Abhimanyu (flouting the norms of war), were rare but indefensible acts of
inhumanity by a person largely associated with lofty ideals. If not for his association with Duryodhana,
these blots on his character may have never happened.
Their
friendship may have been built on loyalty and trust. But that gratitude blinded Karna in many
ways. Given the enormity of the insults
that he had borne prior and the sweeping changes that Duryodhana subsequently brought to his
life, Karna arguably felt an inexorable need to accept Duryodhana as is, warts
and all. While Karna may have brought to
the fore Duryodhana’s supremely laudable traits as a friend, there was little
beyond their bond that Karna could influence positively.
In my own
life, friendships are an integral part of who I am. I have fabulous friendships
that have stood the test of time. I have
had my fair share of disappointments too.
But my intent here is to not dissect my relationships. I would like to, instead, share what I
currently think of as the core elements of a deep friendship. These are derived from not only my lived-in experiences but also my attempts to reframe the lens through
which I saw and romanticized characters like Karna.
In my book,
the best of friends know when you need them to stay by your side as a steadying
influence. They know when to speak to
you to share their wisdom. They equally
know when to prod you to listen to your mind’s voice and maneuver your way out
of the curveballs that life sometimes throws at you. They know to not make you feel judged and
feel comfortable in your own skin. They
equally assume the responsibility of giving you tough love, whilst holding you
to the highest standards of honesty and propriety. Most importantly, they think about you
holistically, beyond the bond they share with you, enabling you to grow as a
person.
If I were
to view Karna and Duryodhana through the above kaleidoscope of thoughts, I am
not sure that I admire their entire friendship as much as I do facets of them as individuals. I still think of Karna not choosing
to go to the side of the Pandavas, as a stunning act of bravery, not just
sacrifice. I still admire the fact that
the headstrong Duryodhana could exhibit the kind of sensitivity towards Karna
that many other casteist characters in the epic could not. But ultimately, the misplaced idealism of
Karna and the refusal of Duryodhana to be fair and righteous, meant that their deaths and loss in the war were an inevitability. A loss
that is meant to stingingly remind us that beyond loyalty and gratitude, it is truth and justice that will prevail. And genuine
friends know that those values are the enduring kavach and kundal
that make you morally invincible.
