Days turned into weeks, and weeks into a blur. Krishneshwari remained rooted to the riverbank, her body becoming a testament to the rigors of her tapasya. Her body, once robust and regal, had become skeletal, her skin stretched taut over bones. Hunger gnawed at her, thirst parched her throat, but she remained steadfast, her mind a single-pointed arrow piercing through the veil of illusion.

Lost in the depths of her own being, she barely registered the passage of time, the scorching sun beating down upon her, the chilling bite of the night. Her eyes, usually sparkling with life, were now closed, searching for something beyond the physical realm.

She stood, unwavering, on one leg, her body trembling, her resolve unwavering. The world around her – the rustling of leaves, the chirping of birds, the distant rumble of the city – faded into a distant hum. There was only the silence within, the profound stillness that accompanied the journey of the soul.

The forest, once a vibrant tapestry of life, now seemed to hold its breath in respect for her unwavering devotion. Deers, their eyes wide with curiosity, would cautiously approach, then shy away, their graceful movements a stark contrast to the stillness of the meditating princess. Crocodiles, ancient guardians of the river, would glide silently through the water, their eyes fixed on the ethereal figure on the bank. They did not approach, sensing a power emanating from her, a divine presence that commanded respect.

Even the river, her constant companion, seemed to flow more gently, its current a gentle caress against her feet.
Krishneshwari, however, remained oblivious to her surroundings. Her mind, freed from the shackles of worldly desires, was now focused solely on finding the divine that resided within her.

Bit by bit, the veil of illusion had begun to lift. Krishneshwari, in her unwavering focus, had started to peel back the layers of her own being. The incessant chatter of the mind, the constant stream of thoughts and desires, did begin to subside. A profound stillness settled within her, a quietude that transcended the mundane.
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Under the cloak of night, Karn approached Dronacharya's hut. Restlessness gnawed at him. He had witnessed Arjun's meteoric rise, surpassing all of them in archery, in combat, in every aspect of their training.

Arjun, once a mere equal, now stood head and shoulders above the rest, a beacon of unparalleled skill.
Karn, consumed by a gnawing sense of inadequacy, felt his ambition, once so fierce, begin to crumble. He had dedicated himself to his training with unwavering focus, yet Arjun, somehow, always seemed to be a step ahead. The thought that he might never surpass Arjun, that he might forever remain in his shadow, was unbearable.

He had to find a way to bridge the gap, to regain the ground he felt he had lost. And he believed Dronacharya, the revered Guru, held the key. He had to find a way to improve, to surpass his own limitations, to reclaim the position he believed was rightfully his.

He entered Dronacharya's hut, his footsteps muffled by the soft earthen floor. Dronacharya, seated at his desk, was deep in thought, writing something on a piece of parchment. He looked up, surprised to see Karn at this late hour.

"Vasusen ?" He said, his voice gentle, "Iss samaye yaha kaise ana huya ?"

Karn, his voice firm, stated his purpose. "Gurudev," he said, "Mujhe Brahmastra sikhna hai. Use prakat karne aur punah lene ki vidhi sikhaane ki kripa kare."

Dronacharya's eyebrows furrowed, his quill stopping midway on the parchment. The Brahmastra was no ordinary weapon, he hadn't taught this weapon to any student yet. It was a divine weapon of immense power, a weapon of ultimate destruction. Its use was strictly forbidden, reserved only for the most dire of circumstances.

"Tum jaante bhi ho, Brahmastra kya hai ?" Dron asked.

Karn remained undeterred, "Mujhe Arjun ke samaan banna hai. Aap apne shishyo se putra ke bhaati prem karte hai, iss liye mujh par bhi kripa kare aur shashtra-vidya mei mujhe parangat karde."

Dronacharya understood that Karn's request was not merely driven by a thirst for knowledge, but also by a deep-seated rivalry with Arjun. He had witnessed Karn's growing resentment, his envy of Arjun's accomplishments. While Dronacharya admired Arjun's dedication and devotion, he also recognized the dangerous undercurrents within Karn's ambition.

He saw the seeds of wickedness, fueled by jealousy and a thirst for power, taking root within this disciple of his. Dronacharya knew that granting Karn access to the Brahmastra, a weapon of immense power, could have catastrophic consequences. The Brahmastra was not something to be granted lightly. It demanded not just physical prowess, but also unwavering moral fortitude, a deep understanding of dharma, and a complete mastery of one's emotions.

He had to tread carefully. He couldn't deny Karn outright, for it would only further fuel his resentment.

"Karn," Dronacharya said, his voice grave, "Brahmastra ko keval vrato ka palan karne wale Brahman, athva tapasvi kshatriya hi praapt kar sakte hai. Aur koi nahi."

Karn understood the implication. He was not as pious and observant in vows like a Brahmana, neither he had dedicated his life to the rigorous austerities required to master such a powerful weapon like a kshatriya.

His ambition, however, burned like an inextinguishable fire within him. He could not accept rejection so easily. He knelt down before Dronacharya, touching his feet in a gesture of respect.

"Aaj tak aapne mujhe jo bhi gyaan diya, uske liye dhanyawaad Acharya." He said, his voice low and controlled.

Dronacharya watched Karn depart, his expression grave. He knew this was not the end of the matter. Karn, driven by ambition and fueled by resentment, would find other ways to achieve his goals. He had to find a way to acquire the Brahmastra, and he wanted it quickly.

Becoming a Brahmana, with its rigorous penance, years of dedicated study and realisation of Parabrahma, was not an option for him. The thought of spending years performing rigorous austerities, like a Kshatriya, was abhorrent to him. It was too time-consuming, too arduous. He needed a quicker, more direct path to power. He craved power, craved recognition, and he wanted it now.

If Dronacharya refused to teach him, he would seek instruction elsewhere. There were other great sages, other renowned warriors, who possessed knowledge far beyond that of any mortal. He would find a Guru, perhaps even one more powerful and knowledgeable than Dronacharya himself, a Guru who would not hesitate to impart the secrets of the Brahmastra to a 'worthy' disciple like him. His ambition, fueled by a burning desire to surpass Arjun, would not be denied.

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A/N

KITAB KI CENTURY LAG GAYI 🥳

Dron ka kehna that Brahmastra can be obtained only by a Brahman observant in vows or a Kshatriya who has done austerities, shouldn't be seen as casteist. Because at this time, Varn was decided by your karma, it was changeable. Karn learning weapons naturally made him a kshatriya. Also, because Karn is raised by Sutas, technically he belongs mixed jaati of Brahmanas and Kshatriyas.

Lekin kya hai na, this mahanubhav always wants a short cut. Arjun ko Brahmastra mila, because of his dedication which was akin to austerities. Bhai woh Banda raat raat bhar jag ke, Gudakesh ho gaya, just to learn archery..... Lekin Karn ji ko nahi karna utna mehnat 🙃

Arjun ke jaisa hardwork nahi karna, lekin Arjun ke jaisa banna hai... Batao kaise chalega re baba~

Also 🌝

Karn saying he wishes to be Arjun's EQUAL shows he accepted that Arjun was superior 🌝👍🏻