When the Sun-born lord had departed, and the warrior of the unshakable oath steadied his heart for the meeting with the king of the celestials, Janamejaya, desiring to understand the hidden origin of that peerless archer, questioned the sage Vaisampayana: “Tell me by what mystery Karna obtained the natural Armor and earrings with which he came into the world.” And the disciple of Vyasa replied: “Listen, O king, to the tale of his birth.”
Once, the mighty ascetic Darvas’s came as a guest to the court of Kuntibhoja. The king honored him with entire devotion, and the sage declared his wish to dwell there for a time, asking only that he be served without expectation. Kuntibhoja bowed and entrusted the charge to his maiden daughter Pṛthā, pure of mind and steadfast in virtue. “This Brahmin,” he said, “is equal to a god in brilliance. You must attend upon him with reverence; no moment of neglect should touch him. The fire of an offended ascetic has turned kings to ash; their grace, when won, protects the world. O lotus-eyed child, though young in years, your conduct is ripened. You honor teachers and elders, and your beauty shines like a freshly opened flower. Therefore, I appoint you to this sacred service; through devotion you shall win great merit.” She answered with humility that her heart leapt to serve the righteous, and Kuntibhoja, pleased by her words, presented her to the sage, begging that he accept the young maiden gently, forgive unmeant faults, and guide her with kindness.
Durvāsas dwelt in a resplendent palace prepared for him, shining like the cool radiance of the moon. There Pṛthā served him with unwavering attention, tending to him and his companions with care fit for seers and gods. The sage, desirous of testing her patience, would say he would return at dawn yet appear at midnight, or announce his arrival at night and come at daybreak. Yet the maiden, without weariness or anger, greeted him each time with fresh food and tranquil mind. And when the king, eager for tidings, asked after the sage’s ways, she would describe them with light-heartedness, easing his mind. Thus, an entire year passed.
At length Durvāsas, delighted by her flawless attendance, said, “Your service has gladdened my heart; choose a boon.” With folded palms, she answered, “If you are pleased, my father’s joy is complete; I desire nothing more.” Her humility moved him yet further. “You ask nothing, yet I shall bestow a gift. I shall teach you a sacred formula. By uttering it, you may summon any deity, who will come to grant you a divine child.” Reverently she accepted the mantra, and when the sage departed, a curiosity stirred within her: she wondered if the teaching truly bore the power he described.
Upon an auspicious morning, gazing upon the radiant lord rising over the eastern hills, her mind blossomed like a lotus. She invoked him with the mantra, saying, “Grant me, O shining one, a son like yourself.” At once the resplendent deity appeared before her, speaking sweetly: “Maiden, drawn by your invocation, I have come. Tell me your desire, and I shall fulfill it.” Startled, she pleaded that she had called him only in play—she meant no task, no boon, no union. But the deity replied that her words of desire, formed within her own mind, were known to him; that truth cannot be withdrawn. “You sought a child of my radiance. If you deny me now, the weight of your invocation will consume all who taught you. Look, even the gods laugh at my arrival at the beck of an unknowing maiden.” Through divine sight, she perceived this, and shame filled her heart. Bowing, she confessed her childishness and begged forgiveness, fearing the stain that might befall her house. Yet with trembling courage she said, “If you deem this union righteous, I submit; whatever blame arises I shall endure.”
The radiant deity then addressed her with gentle firmness: “Your body is your own; its authority lies not with elders. Union sought with purity incurs no sin. Moreover, by my power, your maidenhood shall remain unstained, even after our joining. You shall bear a mighty son, and no reproach shall touch you.” Persuaded by his words, Pṛthā accepted, and his brilliance united with her. By the god’s boon, her form showed no mark of conception, though within her the child grew.
When the tenth month arrived, she brought forth a boy luminous as a tender sunbeam, adorned with natural Armor and earrings, strong-limbed, gentle-eyed, and wondrous to behold. Stricken with fear of dishonour, she placed the infant in a casket, sealed it carefully, and set it afloat upon the flowing Asva. Her heart broke as she cried, “O child, I bore you yet may not cherish you. Your moonlike face shall not gladden my arms; your laughter shall not fill my ears. May the world’s guardians keep you safe; may fortune smile upon you where I cannot.” Blessing him with trembling lips, she returned sorrowfully to the palace.
The casket journeyed along the river’s course, carried by Asva into Carmanvatī, thence into Yamunā, and at last into Gaṅgā. Near the region of Sita, by the town of Pampa, Athiratha, companion of Dhṛtarāṣṭra, was sporting in the waters with his wife. Seeing the drifting box, he ordered it brought ashore. Opening it unseen by others, the couple discovered the radiant child. Overwhelmed with joy, Athiratha exclaimed, “O fair-eyed wife, we were without offspring; the gods have granted us this divine boy to sustain our lineage.” They took him home, performed the rites of adoption, and because of his golden glow named him Vasusena, though he came to be known as Karṇa.
Through her spies Pṛthā learned that her child had found loving parents, and her spirit found solace. The son of the Sun became the son of a charioteer by the decree of fate. Athiratha later sent Karṇa to master archery under Droṇa, warfare under Kṛpa, and celestial weapons under Rāma, son of Jamadagni. In time he gained mastery over divine missiles, forged a deep bond with Duryodhana, and thus grew opposed to the sons of Pāṇḍu.
Thus, O descendant of the Kuru line, Janamejaya, the tale reveals that the extraordinary should not be tested without wisdom, for such acts set in motion currents that reshape the destiny of kingdoms. In the lives of Karṇa and Kuntī stands the enduring testament of how fate unfolds when the hidden is stirred.
