Chapter 15: The Firstborn of the Hundred
The air in Hastinapur was still and tense, yet brimming with hope. A full year had passed since the mysterious meat-like mass had been divided into 101 pieces and placed in sacred clay pots, sealed carefully in ghee, just as instructed by the great sage Vyasa.
Inside the royal palace, all attention was focused on one pot—the first one. It had begun to tremble.
The courtiers, sages, and royal family gathered, holding their breath. Then, with a loud crack, the clay shattered. A newborn baby boy emerged, covered in soft fluids, his tiny body strong and his lungs filled with an echoing cry that reverberated through the palace.
A moment of silence followed.
Then came a chilling chorus—animals in the surrounding forests howled and cried all at once. Birds scattered from trees, and deer dashed through the woods. The unnatural reaction sent a wave of unease through the gathered nobles and ministers.
Whispers began: "A bad omen…"
But in two corners of the world, two individuals understood the truth behind the cries. Far in the forest, a five-year-old Karna looked up toward the sky. "So, he's born," he whispered, his gaze deep and calm. "And so is Bhima."
In Hastinapur, Vidura stood with his arms crossed behind him, looking out toward the forest from a palace balcony. He knew. Not from a curse or prophecy—but from quiet observation. The sounds of animals weren't mourning Duryodhana's birth. They were responding to a cosmic shift. Bhima, the second Pandava, had entered the world at the same moment.
---
In the palace, Gandhari gently held the child, her heart overwhelmed. "Duryodhana…" she whispered.
King Dhritarashtra, cradling the boy's tiny hand, smiled broadly. "He will be the light of our lineage, my queen."
Shakuni, watching from the side, observed the mother and child with a strange calmness in his eyes. For years, a fire had quietly burned within him—a grudge against the Kuru kingdom. But now, watching his sister gaze with pride and joy at her newborn child, something inside him let go.
That grudge had never been truly against the kingdom or the king—it had been because of Gandhari's blindfold, the symbol of her forced submission. But now, the blindfold was gone—not just from her eyes, but from her spirit.
And it was Karna who had changed that.
It was the boy who removed her blindfold when he's just born,it was he who eliminates gandhari's inner struggles even though dhritarashtra told her not to worry about blindfold.
Shakuni remembered Karna's calm, clear voice, and the quiet strength in his eyes. From that moment onward, Shakuni carried a quiet respect for the young charioteer's son. He didn't care who Karna's real parents were—he had done something no sage, priest, or king had done. He had freed Gandhari from the chains of her own grief.
From that day, Shakuni vowed to protect his sister's happiness without hatred toward the kingdom—and to always stand beside Karna.
---
Over the next week, one after another, pots continued to crack open. Each revealed a healthy baby boy. The palace bustled with activity as nurses and servants rushed about, ensuring the safety and comfort of each new prince. By the end of the week, ninety-nine more sons had joined Duryodhana. The royal nursery overflowed with cries, giggles, and movement.
But one pot—only one—remained sealed.
It sat undisturbed in a sacred chamber. Days passed. Then weeks. Then months. Yet it remained still.
Priests prayed. The king and queen waited. Shakuni visited the chamber every few days, placing a protective hand on the pot as though trying to comfort the life within.
Almost a full year after Duryodhana's birth, the final pot began to tremble.
The palace was silent when it cracked open. From it emerged a small, delicate baby girl. Her soft cry was barely a whisper compared to the bold cries of her brothers. Gandhari picked her up with trembling hands.
"A daughter," she whispered. "She came last, but she is just as precious."
"She will be the jewel of this family," Dhritarashtra said with pride. "Let her shine among her brothers."
The girl was named Dushala.
---
Meanwhile, Karna continued to grow strong. At just six years old, he was already sharper than most boys twice his age.
To most of the city, he was the son of a charioteer—noble, kind, and unusually gifted.
To the king and queen, however, he was more than that. Having grown up around the palace thanks to his connection with key figures like Adhiratha and Vidura, Karna was treated with warmth and affection. Dhritarashtra would often call him close to listen to his voice, while Gandhari smiled whenever he entered the hall, treating him as if he were her own nephew.
Despite the attention Duryodhana received, Karna remained humble, quietly observing the world. He didn't envy the prince, nor did he rush toward power. He simply waited.
Because he knows that it's only Beginning.