"Princess," Karna said, looking directly at Mrinalini now, "consider this a suggestion from a well-wisher. Kamsa is an adharmic man who will be slain sooner or later. If your parents seek to establish relations with Mathura because of his strength, then do not. But if you hold affection for this prince and truly see him as your future husband, then there is nothing I can do except advise you to keep your fiancé away from Mathura. Or else, just as wheat gets ground along with the husk, he will face the damage of my battle against Kamsa."
The words hung in the air like a drawn blade.
Mrinalini's eyes widened slightly, caught between surprise and a flicker of something warmer—gratitude, perhaps, for the concern wrapped in blunt truth.
Dhavani's breath caught, her hand rising to her mouth as she glanced between them.
Vritraketu's face, however, darkened to a storm. His hand went to the hilt of his sword without thought, drawing it halfway from the sheath.
"Who are you?" he demanded, voice rising sharp and hot. "How dare you spout such words? You dare to look down on me?"
Dhavani and Mrinalini moved at once.
Dhavani stepped forward, her usual shyness burned away by panic. "Nephew, stop this!"
Mrinalini placed a hand on his shoulder, firm but steady. "Prince Vritraketu, you are a guest of Kashi. If something happens to you here, Kashi will pay the price. Can you let it go?"
Karna then met her eyes, then shifted his gaze to Vritraketu. The prince's sword hung half-drawn, his chest heaving with anger. Pilgrims nearby had begun to glance over, murmuring...
"Today, my behavior was a bit inappropriate," Karna then said, his voice although didn't have a trace of apology, "It was direct, and the choice of words was poor. For that, I apologize. However, I must remind the prince that this is temple premises. It is not advisable to draw out any weapon."
Vritraketu's grip further tightened on the hilt, his knuckles white.
His face darkened further with every word Karna spoke.
The apology had not been for insulting him or his father—it had been for the choice of words alone.
The meaning behind them remained unchanged, sharp and deliberate.
Vritraketu's blood boiled. He had come to Kashi expecting submission, not this quiet, cutting disdain from a man dressed like a beggar. His hand trembled on the hilt. He could no longer hold back.
"Die," he snarled.
The sword came out fully in one swift motion. Vritraketu lunged forward, blade aimed straight at Karna's chest without any warning.
Mrinalini gasped. Dhavani's hand flew to her mouth.
Karna, however, did not even flinch.
He stepped aside with calm precision, letting the sword cut through empty air.
Before Vritraketu could recover his balance, Karna's hand closed around the prince's wrist like a vice.
*Gaaah*
Vritraketu let out a piercing scream that echoed across the ghat, drawing every eye within hearing distance.
Karna tightened his grip. Slowly, deliberately. Vritraketu's knees buckled. Pain shot up his arm in waves.
He tried to twist free, but Karna's hold only grew stronger. The sword slipped from numb fingers and clattered to the stone steps. Blood trickled from Vritraketu's mouth as he bit down on his own lip to keep from crying out again.
Mrinalini stepped forward, voice urgent. "Please—spare him."
Karna's eyes remained fixed on Vritraketu's face. He did not loosen his grip at once. "As I mentioned before," he said coldly, "this is the temple premises. It is heavily disrespectful to Mother Parvati to draw a weapon here."
Vritraketu snarled through clenched teeth.
"I will kill you."
Karna released him. Vritraketu stumbled back, clutching his wrist, face twisted in pain and fury.
Mrinalini turned to the nearest attendant. "Take him away. Now."
The attendant hurried forward, bowing low.
"Come, Prince. Please."
Vritraketu glared at Karna one last time, then allowed himself to be led away, limping slightly, the attendant supporting his arm. Mrinalini followed a few steps behind, pausing only long enough to look back at Karna.
"Thank you again," she said quietly. "For stopping."
Karna inclined his head.
Mrinalini gave a small nod and continued after her betrothed.
Dhavani remained where she was. She drew a deep breath, steadying herself, then looked at Karna.
"I will come later," she told Mrinalini.
Mrinalini glanced between her friend and Karna, then nodded once and walked away.
Dhavani turned fully toward Karna. He looked at her with mild confusion.
"Princess," he said. "You have something to say to me?"
Dhavani's gaze dropped for a moment. She clasped her hands in front of her, fingers twisting together. She could not meet his eyes directly.
Karna waited patiently.
"Princess?" he prompted gently.
She took another breath, then lifted her head.
"I just had a question in my mind," she said at last, voice soft but steady now that she had begun.
Karna tilted his head slightly. "Please go ahead."
Dhavani swallowed once more.
"Mahadeva himself is Adiyogi, the supreme ascetic of the universe. And yet he is also a father to Lord Ganesha and Kartikeya, and the husband of Goddess Parvati. How is it possible for him to be an ascetic and a householder at the same time when both worlds are in opposite directions?"
Karna looked at her for a long moment. The noise of the ghat faded into the background—the splashing water, the murmured chants, the distant bells. He seemed to weigh the question carefully before he spoke.
"That is a good question, Princess," he said quietly.
He glanced toward the river, then back at her.
"Lord Shiva is beyond what we understand as ordinary life, Princess. He is the stillness at the center of everything. As an Adiyogi, he sits in meditation and is untouched by the world. In that form, Lord Shiva has no one. He has no bonds. No material attachment or anything. That is why when he is Adiyogi form, he is often in deep meditation in the cave where not even Mata Parvati can go. There was a time when Mata Parvati went along with the devas, and with the help of Kamadev, she disturbed his sadhana. As a result, his third eye burned Kamadev to ashes. This has not occurred because Mahadeva was simply disturbed and acted in anger. But it happened because Kamadeva tried to bring Adiyogi to the materialistic world. But it was necessary back then, too.
Anyway, when he is Lord Shiva, he is a god who gives boons to his devotees, he is gullible, he is generous, and he is also a loving husband to Mata Parvati and a loving father to his children. But even in that scenario, he didn't stop when Lord Kartikeya left Kailasa to the south. He doesn't come in the way of Mata Parvati's duties.
Dhavani listened, eyes fixed on him.
Karna continued. "He loves Goddess Parvati fully in every moment they share, yet never suffers when she is absent. He plays with his sons, yet never clings to them. The ascetic and the householder are not two separate lives in him. They are expressions of the same completeness. He is never bound by any role because he is never identified with any of them. This way, he shows that true detachment does not mean turning away from love or duty. It means living fully in every role without being bound by the outcome."
"Then," she asked, looking straight at him this time, "as long as one is perfectly detached from the fruits of action, they can still be ascetic and also be a householder? Is it possible for even normal humans like us?"
Karna nodded, a quiet smile touching his lips.
"Yes," he said. "It is possible. Not easy. Not for most. But possible."
Dhavani took a small step closer.
"If that is the case," she continued, voice soft but clear, "then why can't you marry another person and perform all the duties of a husband? Love her when you are with her, give her your presence, your care, your laughter in the moment… but still keep a part of you away, a quiet inner chamber that only ever loves Roshini? Why can't you hold both without guilt toward the one who is gone?"
Karna went still. For a few seconds he simply stared at her, the question hanging between them like a drawn bowstring.
"What do you mean exactly by that?" he asked at last, voice low.
Dhavani shook her head gently.
"I mean exactly what it is, Maharaj. Why can't you marry a woman who loves you? Give her the love she needs when you are with her, fulfill all the duties of a husband—protect her, honor her, stand beside her—but remain detached from the outcome? Keep a part of yourself only for Maharani Roshini's memory, like how Mahadeva keeps the ascetic part of his life separate from his household. This way, you aren't replacing your wife with someone else. Just like how in Treta Yuga, Raja Janaka, despite being a king, despite being the father of two girls and a husband, remained detached and lived the life of an ascetic. Just like Mahadeva loved Devi Parvati yet remained Adiyogi. In this path, you do not have to actively love someone. You merely reciprocate the love they are giving you."