The name of Karna had already spread across Aryavarta as the Lord of Kitchens, yet the son of Radha was restless.
One dawn, as he finished his suryanamaskar on the banks of the river, he watched a line of beggars shuffle toward the town gates. Some were blind, some lame, some holy men with no possessions except their staff. Children clung to their mothers, their stomachs empty, their eyes weary.
Karna's chest tightened. What use is gold, if the hungry still walk barefoot?
That morning he gathered Varunesh and his men."Brother," he said firmly, "it is not enough to sell food. Let us give it. From this day, in every town where our kitchens stand, there shall also stand a Shakti Mandir, where food is free—rice, bread, milk, and sweet water for any who come, be they beggar, brahmin, or wanderer."
Varunesh hesitated. "But Karna… our profits will vanish."
Karna smiled faintly. "Profits are dust. Dharma is eternal. Let us see if the Mother abandons her children when they serve her."
Shakti Free Stalls
Within months, in every city where Suryakant Kitchens gleamed, a new sight appeared—long, simple stalls draped with red cloth, marked with the trident of Devi Shakti. Here, food was given without price, without question.
Priests found milk for their rituals. Wandering sadhus filled their bowls. Orphans received hot bread for the first time in their lives. Women traveling alone found safety and nourishment.
Karna himself often stood in disguise at these stalls, handing bowls of rice with his own hands. When people tried to bow, he lifted them up. "Do not bow to me. Bow to the Goddess who feeds through me."
The people whispered:"He is not just a merchant. He is a son of the Goddess herself."
The Gurus' Blessing
Soon word reached the great ashrams. Sages who had once kept distance from the sutaputra now blessed him openly.
Rishi Vyasa, upon hearing of the free stalls, said to his disciples:"This Karna has understood the essence of dharma. What is yajna without feeding the hungry? What is wealth without danam? He walks the path of truth."
Rishi Durvasa, fiery and unpredictable, visited one stall in Kashi. When he was offered a meal without being asked for his name or caste, he laughed thunderously:"Ha! Here is a man who has bound kings with food, yet frees beggars with the same hand. Blessed be his line!"
With such support, kings who had once plotted against Karna dared not move against him. For to harm Karna now was to incur the wrath of sages, gurus, and thousands of common folk whose bellies were full because of him.
Rich as a King, Poorer than a Beggar
Yet the irony was sharp.
All the profits from Karna's vast empire flowed not into his coffers, but into yagnas, temple constructions, and danam. Sacks of gold were carried to priests. Hundreds of cows were gifted to brahmins. Lands were donated for ashrams.
Karna lived in a simple hut, eating the same food he gave the poor. His garments were plain, his bed nothing more than a woven mat. Varunesh once complained bitterly:"Brother, kings live in palaces built with less gold than you have spent in a single month! And yet look at you—your purse is emptier than a beggar's bowl. Why do you throw away all you earn?"
Karna's eyes softened. "Because gold is not mine, Varunesh. It comes from the Goddess, and it must return to her children. If I keep it, it will rot my soul. If I give it, it will feed a thousand souls. Tell me—which weighs more in heaven's scales?"
Varunesh could not answer.
The People's Song
Bards began to sing of him:
"Richer than kings, poorer than beggars,He walks with empty hands,Yet feeds the land with endless grain."
In marketplaces, people recited tales of Karna's generosity. Some called him Annadata—the giver of food. Others hailed him as Dharma-putra, child of righteousness. Mothers taught their children: "Be like Karna, who gives more than he keeps."
The sound of his name rolled across Bharatavarsha like thunder.
Kings in Silence
The kings, who once had tried to sabotage him, now found themselves bound. If they taxed him harshly, the people rebelled. If they spoke against him, sages condemned them. If they tried to destroy his kitchens, their own soldiers refused orders, for they too had eaten Karna's free food.
In royal courts, ministers grumbled."This sutaputra has made himself untouchable. His wealth belongs not to him, but to every sage and beggar in the land. To strike him is to strike dharma itself."
Some kings swallowed their pride and began copying him, opening their own free stalls to compete with his. Yet none could match the sincerity in Karna's hand, nor the blessings that seemed to follow his every act.
Yagnas and Dana
Karna poured immense resources into great yagnas. Fire-altars blazed, priests chanted, riversides thundered with sacred hymns. The smoke rose into the sky like prayers carried by the wind.
Thousands attended. Everyone—from kings to beggars—was fed. Gifts were distributed: cloth, ornaments, land, cows, even schools for children of all castes.
Each time, Karna stood at the edge, never claiming credit. "This is not mine," he would say. "This is the Goddess's will. I am only her servant."
A Man of Two Worlds
Yet inside, Karna remained torn.
At night, when the crowds slept and fires dimmed, he sat by the river, gazing at the stars. His heart longed not for gold, nor fame, but for acceptance—for a place where he would not be judged by birth.
He thought of warriors training in Hastinapura, of princes studying with Drona. He thought of battles he could fight, glory he could win, if only the world allowed him.
But fate had given him another battlefield—forging a kingdom not of swords, but of food, faith, and generosity.
And though his pockets were emptier than a beggar's, the blessings he earned filled him with a wealth no king could ever touch.
The Whisper of Fate
Yet even as his fame reached its height, dark whispers stirred.
In Hastinapura, Shakuni leaned toward Duryodhana and said, "See how Bharat chants his name. Today they call him Annadata. Tomorrow, they may call him king. Will you allow your throne to be shadowed by a sutaputra?"
Duryodhana's eyes narrowed. "No… but perhaps it is better to have such a man beside me, than against me."
Thus, a seed was planted—a seed that would soon entwine Karna's destiny with the royal house of Kuru.