Kunti
I have come here to take you.
Karna
Where will you take me?
Kunti
Into my parched breast: into your mother’s lap.
Karna
You are blessed with five sons: you are fortunate,
I am without dynasty or forefathers, a meagre king –
where will you place me?
Kunti
Above all.
I will seat you above all my sons.
You are the eldest.
Karna
With what right shall I enter
thus? With empire and wealth?
Those who have been deprived of the treasure that is
a mother’s tenderness –
how will you achieve
absolution of their completeness, tell me this.
A mother’s heart
is not sold in a game of dice
it is not defeated by the might of weapons
it is a gift from god.
Kunti
My child, it is with the right given by god
that you came to this lap
one day; with that right
come back, with your due glory
and without amore reflection
amongst all your brothers, and in
your mother’s lap
take your place.
Karna
I listen, as if in a dream, o lady,
to your words. Look, darkness
overwhelms us in every direction, our surroundings
are now vanished
and the Bhagirathi is
soundless.
To what world veiled by illusions,
to what
unremembered dwelling,
to what dawn of consciousness
have you taken me? Like some ancient truth
your words have touched
my enchanted heart.
It is as if my unrealised childhood,
the darkness of my mother’s womb,
surrounds me today. O Mother of Kings,
whether it be true
whether it be a dream
come, o embodiment of tenderness
place your right hand
on my forehead
on my face
for a while. I have heard
it said by people that I
was abandoned by my mother.
How often have I searched for
my mother in my nocturnal dreams.
She would come slowly… slowly…
to see me.
I have cried out and told her in deepest agony
“Mother, lift your veil, let me see your face!”
But then the figure dissolves, tearing asunder
the thirsty eager dream. Has that dream returned
today in the garb of
the mother of the Pandavas
this very evening, on the battlefield,
on the banks of the Bhagirathi?
Look, lady. On the other side, in the Pandavas’ tent,
burns the lamplight,
and on this side not very far away
in the stables of the Kauravas, the roars of a
hundred thousand horses erupt fiercely.
Tomorrow night will begin that great war. Why
then did I have to hear tonight
in Arjuna’s mother’s throat
my own mother’s voice of love?
Why did my name ring out on her lips
in such sweet music? My heart suddenly
runs out calling “brother” to the Pandavas.
Kunti
Then come away, my dear child, come away.
Karna
I will go, mother. I will go, and I will ask nothing
Without hesitation, without thought.
Lady, you are my mother! Your call
has awakened my innermost soul – in my ears
ring no battle cries, nor victory conches
and false appears
the malice of war, the glory of heroes, victory or defeat.
Where will I go? Take me.
Kunti
To that other side.
Where the lamps glow in those motionless camps
on Pandu’s sandy shores
Karna
There, the motherless will find
his mother forever! There, the star of truth will stay awake
all night, beautiful and vast,
in your eyes! Lady, tell me once more that
I am your son.
Kunti
My son!
Karna
Then why
did you discard me, to humiliation,
without family, class, and honour,
and without a mother’s eye over me
into this blind and unknown universe?
Why did you set me adrift forever
on this tide of disregard?
Why did you exile me from my brothers?
You kept me separated from Arjuna
That is why, from childhood, he and I are drawn
by an invisible bond, taking the form of malice
it is an irresistible attraction. Mother, no
reply? Your shame has penetrated these
layers of darkness and, in silence, touched
my whole being, and is forcing my eyes shut. Let
it be!
Let it be then!
Do not say why you abandoned me.
The first gift of fate in all this world and universe
is a mother’s tenderness – why, from that divine gift,
did you steal your own child?
Do not answer that question. Just tell me this:
why have you come to return me to a mother’s lap?
