Chapter 81: The Brothers Reunite, The Wounds Unfold
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You guys are not giving me any proper response, please give me response in form of powerstones or comments.
The day i did not see response it ruins my mood and my motivation to write.
Remember I humbly warn you if you keep this attitude then okay, I will eunuch the story in such a cliffhanger that it will badly spoil your mood for weeks, Remember This....
Thak you
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As the eastern sky began to pale, the first threads of dawn wove themselves into the dark fabric of night. Mahishmati, silent and dignified under the embrace of the stars, began to stir. The breeze was gentle, as though even the wind dared not break the sacred quiet that dawn offered.
In the quiet courtyard near the Senapati quarters, Karna stood alone, bare-chested, clothed in a simple saffron dhoti. His skin glistened with morning dew and the sheen of discipline. Before him rose the golden disk of Surya, the Sun-God he had revered since childhood.
He bowed deeply, folding his palms in namaskaar.
"O Surya Dev," he whispered, his voice firm and steady, "the eternal witness of all deeds, grant me the strength to walk the path of righteousness, even when it is paved with thorns."
Then, as he had every single morning of his life, Karna began his Suryanamaskaar. Each movement flowed like poetry, his breath calm, his mind focused. With each stretch, he honored his father—the radiant lord in the sky—and offered his inner discipline in return.
As the ritual ended, he remained bowed in reverence, eyes closed.
A soft voice echoed from the doorway. "You have not missed a single dawn, have you, Karna bhaiya?"
Karna opened his eyes slowly. Shon, his younger brother, stood there, arms crossed, holding a clay pot of cool water.
"Not once," Karna replied. "If the Sun does not forget to rise, then I must not forget to greet him."
Shon grinned and placed the pot down. "I kept the offerings ready. The villagers are already waiting."
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Every morning after his Surya Namaskaar, Karna performed Daan. Not for fame. Not for praise. But because it was what his Dharma demanded.
He walked barefoot to the outer gate of his courtyard, where villagers and travelers quietly waited, each bearing a small scroll or whispering a humble request.
To an old farmer whose bullock had died in the storm, Karna gave a sturdy young ox.
To a widowed mother who sought aid for her daughter's marriage, he gifted a piece of his own land.
To a wandering Vaidya with no tools, he offered finely carved instruments of healing.
Each act, thoughtful. Each gift, measured. Each deed, performed with humility.
The Sun rose fully, bathing the land in divine gold.
Karna stood tall. "Let none walk away unfulfilled. Let none feel lesser in this city of Dharma."
Shon clapped his hands together. "And they call me the warrior! You slay the demon of sorrow each morning, bhaiya."
Karna chuckled and tousled his brother's hair. "There is more strength in giving than in taking arms. You will learn that in time."
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Unbeknownst to him, a group had watched from afar.
Yudhishthir, Arjun, Sahadev, Duryodhan, Dushala, and Kunti stood in silence, cloaked in morning shawls.
"Does he do this... every day?" Arjun asked.
Veer Pratap, standing beside them, answered quietly, "Every single dawn. For years. Before any meal, before any duty, Karna bows to Surya and lifts the burdens of others."
Kunti's eyes shimmered. "He carries the fire of Dharma in him... even when spurned by it."
Dushala looked away, uncertain. She could not deny the nobility she had witnessed, but the wounds of the past still lingered.
Duryodhan stepped forward. "May we approach him now?"
Veer Pratap looked at the horizon. "Now is the right time. Let hearts speak before reason silences them."
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Karna had just finished washing his hands when he turned—and saw them.
The princes of Hastinapur. His mother. His sister. All standing before him.
His jaw tightened. His eyes narrowed.
Duryodhan was first to bow deeply.
"O Senapati Karna," he said, voice calm, "I greet you with love, as a friend... and as a brother, if you will have me."
Karna did not answer. He looked past him.
Arjun stepped forward next. The blindfold still covered his eyes.
He removed it slowly, revealing the empty gaze. "I cannot see you, Bhrata Karna. But I feel your presence. And I seek not forgiveness, but a chance to walk beside you—if only for a while."
Karna's lips remained unmoved.
Then came Yudhishthir.
"I claim no right over your heart,Bhaiya Karna," he said. "But I recognize in you the qualities of an elder brother. The fire of justice. The dignity of restraint. If you see me unworthy, I shall understand."
Still, Karna was silent.
Then... Kunti Devi stepped forward.
Her steps were slow. Her hands trembled. Her eyes carried lifetimes of regret.
"My son," she whispered.
Karna's head snapped toward her. "Do not call me that, Devi."
Kunti lowered her gaze.
"You abandoned me to a river," he said coldly. "You hid me in shame. And only when the truth threatened your other sons... you came."
"I know," Kunti whispered. "There is no word I can say that will undo what I have done."
Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes.
"But I see you now. Not as a threat. Not as a weapon. Not as a pawn. But as my son. And if you deny me forever, I shall still carry your name in my prayers."
Karna turned away.
His voice was soft. "I hated you. For years. For the silence. For the abandonment. For the injustice."
The silence grew heavier than steel.
"But today," he continued, "I watched you all stand silent behind me. You did not interrupt my prayers. You did not mock my Daan. You stood as seekers. Not kings."
He faced them again.
"I am no longer the boy who wept for a name. I am Karna. Senapati of Mahishmati. Son of Adhirath and Radha. Brother to Shon. But if you are willing to walk beside me, not ahead of me—then I shall not close the door."
Arjun bowed deeply. "I offer no challenge. Only a request. Guide me, elder brother. Help me find the light again."
At that moment, Radha and Adhirath stepped from the doorway, their faces filled with quiet pride.
"Karna," Radha said gently, "you carry too much in that heart of yours. Let some of it go. Let it breathe."
Adhirath nodded. "Even charioteers must rest. Let your wheel slow, my son."
Shon laughed softly. "Besides, I was tired of only being the younger brother of the Senapati. Being the younger brother of five princes sounds far more fun."
Even Karna could not suppress a smirk.
He looked to Yudhishthir. "You came as a brother. Then eat as one. There is food within."
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That morning, in the courtyard of a simple house, the royal blood of Bharatvarsh shared a humble meal. No throne. No court. No guards. Just brothers.
Kunti sat beside Radha, helping serve the meal with her own hands. Shon narrated stories of Karna's youth, embarrassing him before the others. Adhirath blessed each of them as if they were all his sons.
Laughter rang where once there had only been silence. Grief sat, not as a burden, but as a guest who had finally spoken.
As the meal ended, Karna stood and raised a copper vessel of water to the sun.
"O Surya Dev," he whispered, "Today, You bore witness to healing. Let this union be protected by Your grace."
And far above, the sun glowed brighter, as if blessing the moment.
To be Continued...