That evening passed quietly, and by the next morning, Karna stepped out of the palace alone.
The sky was still soft with early light as he made his way toward the Somnath Temple, a grand shrine standing near the shores. The path carried the scent of salt and stone, the sound of waves crashing steadily against the land.
The temple rose ahead, its structure solid and ancient.
Karna entered without announcement.
Without any escort.
Inside, the air cooled, the stone beneath his feet holding the night's lingering chill. Bells rang at intervals, their tones spreading through the halls in waves, while devotees moved in quiet devotion.
He completed his Surya Arghya first, standing where the rising sun's light touched the temple courtyard, lifting water in his palms, offering it with the same precision and stillness he always carried.
Then, seeking silence, he moved to a quieter corner.
And there…
He paused.
A young mother sat on the steps, her posture slumped with exhaustion, her clothes slightly disheveled, her hair loose from what had once been tied neatly. In her arms, an infant cried relentlessly, the sound sharp, continuous, cutting through the otherwise calm environment.
The cry was not just loud.
It was desperate.
Around her, people noticed.
They glanced.
Some frowned.
A few whispered among themselves, their voices low but their expressions clear with discomfort.
Yet no one stepped forward.
No one intervened.
The contrast stood stark.
A city of prosperity.
A temple of devotion.
And yet, in that moment, a mother sat alone in distress and helplessness.
Karna couldn't help but walk toward her.
He stopped at a respectful distance, lowering himself slightly so his presence did not feel imposing.
"What troubles you?" he asked gently.
The mother looked up, startled by Karna's appearance and his royal attire, her eyes red from strain, her breath uneven.
"He has been crying for hours," she said, her voice tired, almost breaking. "Nothing I do calms him."
Karna watched the child for a moment.
Then he smiled.
"Allow me to help, mother," he said.
She blinked in surprise.
Before she could respond further, Karna sat down on the stone steps, leaving a respectful space between them. The surface was cool beneath him, grounding, steady.
Then, slowly, he raised his hands.
A faint golden aura emerged, subtle at first, like a soft glow slipping through the edges of his form.
From that light…
A veena took shape with its strings shimmering.
Gasps rose from nearby devotees.
"That..."
"A deva?" someone whispered.
"Or a gandharva…" another murmured.
Karna did not respond.
His fingers touched the strings.
And then... He started playing.
The first note was soft.
Almost hesitant.
Then it deepened.
The melody unfolded like water finding its path, gentle yet steady, each note carrying a quiet resonance that seemed to settle into the air itself. The sound did not merely travel outward; it seeped inward, touching breath, slowing it, smoothing the rough edges of tension.
The child's cries began to falter.
Not abruptly.
But gradually.
The sharpness softened, and the pauses between cries lengthened.
And then…
Silence.
The infant's small body relaxed, its breathing evening out as sleep claimed it gently, as though carried by the music itself.
The mother froze. Then her shoulders sagged, relief washing over her like a tide retreating.
Around them, people stopped completely.
The murmurs died.
The whispers faded.
They sat.
They listened.
And as the music continued.
While the melody seems to be in the same rhythm, the things in the surroundings began to be affected.
The buds on nearby plants began to bloom, petals unfurling slowly as if responding to the rhythm. The ocean's waves, visible beyond the temple, seemed to calm, their crash softening into a more measured flow.
Within the people…
Something loosened.
Many felt their fatigue lifted.
Any sort of pain eased.
And in their soul, many felt peace.
Those who had come seeking healing felt a strange lightness in their bodies, as though an unseen weight had been removed.
Minutes passed.
Or perhaps longer.
Time seemed to dissolve.
When Karna finally let the last note of the raaga fade, the silence that followed was not empty.
It was full.
Heavy with something peaceful.
He opened his eyes.
The veena dissolved.
The golden glow faded.
And the world returned slowly.
From the gathering, voices rose again.
Soft at first.
"Who are you, Mahodaya?" one asked, stepping forward.
"You seem like a prince," another said, eyes filled with awe.
Karna rose to his feet, his movements calm, unaffected by the attention now focused entirely on him.
"My name is Karna," he said simply. "King of Dakshina Kalinga."
The words spread through the crowd like a ripple.
"Karna…?"
"Suryaputra Karna…?"
"The one who ended Kamsa's tyranny… That Karna?"
Murmurs grew.
Questions followed.
What was he doing here?
Why had he come to Dvarika?
But Karna did not linger.
He had already given what he intended.
And as the murmurs swelled behind him, he walked forward, leaving the temple courtyard with the same quiet presence he had entered with.
But to his unawareness, the young princess of Dvarika, who was about to leave, stopped and watched him as he played the music. Even as he was gone... she continued to stare at his back, murmuring, "I heard about the divine healing music he learned from Gandharvas, but I thought it was just a rumor."
Later that day, the royal stables of Dvarika were unusually quiet compared to the bustling ports and crowded markets outside.
The long rows of carved wooden stalls carried the rich scent of hay, leather, horse sweat, and oil used to maintain bridles and armor.
Inside one of the quieter sections of the stables, Princess Subhadra stood near a black mare, absentmindedly brushing its mane with slow strokes.
But her thoughts were not in the stables.
They had not been there for the past two days.
Again and again, her mind returned to the scene at the temple courtyard.
The sound of the veena.
The strange peace that had settled over the people.
The way flowers bloomed around him as though nature itself had leaned closer to listen.
And most of all…
His radiant face, beneath the morning sunlight, as if he were SuryaNaryana himself, descended onto earth in the disguise of a human.
Subhadra unconsciously twisted a strand of her hair around her finger as she stood there, her gaze unfocused. Every now and then, she would stop brushing entirely and simply stare into nothingness, only for the memory of that music to rise in her head again, soft and lingering like the final vibration of a temple bell.
One of her maids standing nearby exchanged glances with another servant.
The princess had been strangely quiet for a while.
Not sad.
Not upset.
Just… distracted.
Subhadra suddenly realized the brush in her hand had stopped moving entirely. She coughed lightly, pretending nothing happened, then resumed brushing the horse again with slightly more force than necessary.
The mare snorted in complaint.
Subhadra blinked.
"Sorry," she muttered under her breath.
Her own reaction embarrassed her.
Why was she thinking so much about him?
He was merely a visiting king.
A guest.
And yet, whenever she remembered the calm expression on his face while playing the veena, her heartbeat became strangely restless.
***
Two days later, the trade discussions finally reached their conclusion.
Inside the royal assembly chamber, the atmosphere was calmer than during the earlier negotiations, the tension now replaced with measured satisfaction.
Karna sat across from Prince Balarama, while Vasudeva and several ministers observed nearby.
The final terms were recited once more for formal confirmation.
In exchange for ten thousand sets each of swords, spears, armors, and maces, along with five thousand heavy shields and five thousand light shields, Dvarika would provide eighteen lakh gold coins and twenty massive cargo ships capable of large-scale sea transport.
The ministers carefully noted every detail onto prepared scrolls while wax seals were heated nearby.
Karna listened calmly before giving a slight nod.
"The shipment from Dakshina Kalinga will arrive within four months at best," he stated.
Balarama folded his arms thoughtfully before replying, "That timeframe is acceptable. We would rather wait for quality than rush poor craftsmanship."
Several ministers nodded in agreement.
There was no longer doubt regarding the weapons after personally examining the samples Karna brought. Even the experienced military advisors admitted privately that the craftsmanship rivaled some of the finest works they had seen.
As the atmosphere relaxed slightly after the negotiations concluded, casual conversation followed naturally.
It was then that Karna mentioned, "After concluding matters here, I intend to travel to Matsya within a week."
At the mention of another kingdom, some ministers exchanged curious glances.
Balarama raised an eyebrow. "Trade again?"
Karna smiled faintly.
"Partly."
He did not elaborate further.
And interestingly…
No one pressed him.