Earlier today, I was just reading through some parts of Kamala Subramaniam’s rendition of the Mahabharata. As I read about Karna’s life and his lifelong struggle to prove himself to everyone, my heart went out to him. Throughout his life, Karna was, at many times, cursed and ill-treated because of Kunti’s decision to give him away at birth. What surprised me most was that although Karna had to overcome more obstacles and feats than any of his brothers in the Kuru clan, he never cursed at life and never pitied himself. He looked past his troubles and walked on. Such was the greatness of the son of the Sun god, Surya. When we are met with troubling times, we must remember Karna — we should wipe off the dust and get back on our feet.
Another aspect of Karna and possibly even the main factor to his demise was his unwavering allegiance to his best friend, Duryodhana. During the tournament, when Arjuna was showing off his craftiness and talent with the bow, Karna challenged him to a duel that would determine which of the two was the more skilled. Since Karna’s true ancestry was not known by anyone but Kunti and Vidura, everyone, even Karna, believed that he was the son of a suta (charioteer). The rules were that only those that were equal in rank could fight one another. This meant that Karna was not fit to fight a warrior like Arjuna. However, Duryodhana saw the courage and bravery in Karna and crowned him king of Angadesh, thereby making him a kshatriya and also making him eligible to fight. Karna, overwhelmed with the respect Duryodhana had given him, became a very close friend of Duryodhana. Unfortunately, his loyalty to Duryodhana kept him from joining the Pandavas, even after Kunti revealed to him his true identity as the eldest of the Pandavas. What we can learn from his mistake is to be grateful for the opportunities we are given in life, but to make sure that our faith to our cause is not ever blind.
The name Karna was given to Radheya by the king of the heavens, Indra, for Karna’s ever-so-generous nature. Before the war began, Indra was worried that his son, Arjuna, would be vanquished in battle by the greatest archer in the world, Radheya. The kavacha (armour) and kundalas (earrings) were given to Radheya by his father, Surya, and kept him safe from harm and made him invincible. Indra knew this and as a plot to try to help his son, Indra went to Radheya, disguised in the form of a brahmin, and asked him for his kavacha and kundalas. Karna, knowing that giving them away would make him a mortal, still gave them away on account of his life-long principle of giving without hesitation. This was one of Karna’s generous actions that I completely disagree with. Looking at it practically, even the most selfless person should not have to give up his or her own life for the benefit of others, especially when the beneficiaries are his sworn enemies. Hopefully none of us have sworn enemies, but my point is that we must be selfish enough to determine which favors we will be able to do for others and which we won’t be able to do because it may be hurt us in the process.
We need to learn to take these lessons from Karna’s mistakes and to also try to incorporate his better traits into our character.
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“… Even the most selfless person should not have to give up his or her own life for the benefit of others… we must be selfish enough to determine which favors we will be able to do for others and which [will] hurt us in the process…”
By labeling Karna’s choice to relinquish his kavacha and kundalas a ‘mistake,’ you overlook a rather poignant aspect of Karna’s story. Whether Karna’s decisions were right or wrong are very debatable. Self-preservation is indeed important, but it clearly is not the absolute guide to one’s decisions. His character – as a fictional being, the son of Surya, or a historically existent mortal – epitomizes a sort of loyalty, generosity, and honor. Hinduism and Hindu texts put less emphasis on judging these traits as ethically right or wrong and more on exploring them as strong in principle but also fallible.
Take another example from the Mahabharata: Bhishma and his oath of celibacy. On the one hand, this choice was the act of deference to his father. It was a sign of a strong mind and warm heart that made him respected and revered by all. Because of this difficult vow, Bhishma was given the power to control the time of his death (a boon in return for being selfless and courageous). On the other hand, one might label this oath “terrible” – as many do. It effectively caused all of the conflict in the Mahabharata, a clearly bloody epic. Bhishma would have been an ideal ruler, but it is precisely those kingly characteristics that also made him choose a path with dire consequences (for everyone).
This is the irony, the paradox, the ethical dilemma, that Hinduism and Hindu texts seek to explore. There is no clear right or wrong in many cases like these – there is the utilitarian option and the honorable option, and neither is inherently better. What is clearly revered as ‘better’ is faith and conviction in one’s choice, whatever it may be.
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