My journey with Karna

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.