Suryadev smiled.
"Child, it does not matter who she is."
Karna remained silent.
Suryadev looked directly into his eyes.
"All that should matter to you is that she is your daughter."
Karna lowered his gaze toward the tiny face resting peacefully against his chest.
For all the signs that had surrounded her birth, for all the celestial music and flowers, for the sudden blooming of an entire city and the appearance of Suryadev himself, those simple words settled more deeply within him than any prophecy could have.
She was his daughter.
For now, that was enough.
Karna looked down at his daughter for a long moment before finally nodding. "Yes, Father. That is true."
There was something strangely reassuring about hearing those words from Suryadev.
Karna did not want to know what the Devas had planned for his children, as it creates unhealthy attachment. He wanted to see them grow, to hear their voices, to watch them make mistakes and learn from them, to see them choose their own paths, and let Mahadeva decide their destinies only.
He had already learned that knowing too much about destiny could become a burden.
After a brief silence, however, another thought came to him, one that had been sitting quietly within him for years. "Father," he asked softly, "how is Mother?"
Suryadev's expression changed.
He sighed before answering. "She misses you a lot, son. She wanted to come and visit you, but she does not want to come and make your mortal entanglements more complex. She knows that your life is already filled with your kingdom, your wives, your children, and the many responsibilities you have chosen to carry. So she remains where she is. But she always watches over you."
Karna smiled.
"I know, Father." His eyes moved toward the sky above Kanipura.
There were clouds hanging over the city, as there so often were, gathered in a broad stretch above the kingdom even when the surrounding skies were clearer.
"No matter what the day is, the clouds are always above Kanipura."
He had noticed it long ago. He had never needed anyone to explain it to him. Somewhere beyond those clouds, he knew his mother watched. Perhaps she could not descend and stand beside him whenever she wished, but the thought that she was looking toward him had always carried a quiet comfort.
After another pause, Karna looked at Suryadev. "Father, if you permit me, I wish to visit Mother soon."
Suryadev smiled.
"A son has the right to visit his parents at any time of the day, son. What hesitation is there in that? Your mother will love to see you."
Karna's expression softened further.
There was a faint ache in that thought, because years had passed without her physically present, yet he had never truly considered her absent.
Suryadev was quiet for a while before adding, "When your youngest child can walk and talk, bring your entire family. Bring your queens and all your children to Suryaloka. Let them visit your mother."
Karna's smile immediately widened.
"All of them?"
"All of them."
Karna bowed his head slightly. "Thank you, Father."
Suryadev looked at him for another moment, then his divine form gradually began to fade. The brightness surrounding him diminished, and the presence that had filled the balcony slowly withdrew. Karna remained standing there with his daughter in his arms, watching until the last trace of divine light disappeared.
He stood quietly for several moments.
Then he turned and walked back toward Dushala's room.
Subhadra followed him.
When they entered, the atmosphere was much quieter than it had been earlier.
Dushala lay upon the bed, exhausted after more than thirty hours of labour. Her face was pale, her hair slightly damp and disordered, and even in sleep there was a faint strain upon her features. Sumedha and Mrinalini were sitting nearby, keeping watch over her. Dhavani and Ratnaprabha were elsewhere with the other children, leaving the room unusually calm.
Karna approached the bed carefully.
He looked at Dushala.
Then at the baby in his arms.
He was about to place the child beside her mother when Subhadra gently nudged him.
"Aary."
Karna looked at her.
"Did you give her a name?"
Karna opened his mouth.
"Dharani."
The word came out immediately.
He stopped.
His eyes widened slightly.
He had not thought about the name. He had not considered any list of names, nor had anyone suggested it to him. It had simply emerged from his mouth as though the answer had been waiting somewhere within him.
"Dharani..."
He repeated the name more quietly.
Then the memory struck him.
Dharani.
Bhudevi's incarnation.
The woman who had stood upon the mountain, carrying the pain of what had happened, and eventually immolated herself because of Narakasura. The same one who cursed him out of misunderstanding.
His body trembled for a moment.
'Why this name?'
He looked down at the sleeping baby.
She was completely unaware of the world around her. Her tiny fingers moved slightly beneath the blanket, her breathing soft and regular. Nothing about her appearance could explain why that particular name had suddenly come to him.
But when he combined her death with his daughter's birth, accompanied by the blessings from devas... and most importantly, the name of Dharani coming out of his mouth... it would make sense if she had reincarnated as his daughter...
"Dharani," Karna whispered again.
He looked toward Dushala.
Slowly, carefully, he placed the baby beside her sleeping mother.
Subhadra looked at the child.
"Dharani..."
Sumedha, who had been listening from nearby, repeated the name quietly.
"Dharani."
Mrinalini looked toward the baby as well.
"Dharani..."
The name settled into the room.
No one questioned it.
Perhaps because none of them had expected another name to come after Karna had spoken it with such certainty. Perhaps because there was something about the sound of it that felt strangely appropriate for the child who had been accompanied by such extraordinary signs at birth.
That same day, the news spread throughout Kanipura.
Princess Dharani had been born.
The announcement travelled through the streets, markets, temples and royal districts, and wherever the news went, people began speaking about what had happened at the exact moment of her birth. The flowers that had blossomed out of season. The sudden growth of plants. The strange excitement among the animals. The celestial music that some had heard, though they could not explain its origin. The shower of flowers within the palace despite the roof above it.
People began connecting the events.
'The princess was born, and the Gods blessed the city...'
It did not take long for the whispers to become a general belief among the people of Kanipura.
Princess Dharani was a blessing.
Karna heard those whispers but did not encourage them. He understood why people would think that way, especially after witnessing such unusual signs, but he also remembered what Suryadev had told him. It did not matter who she was. She was his daughter.
For now, that was enough.
A message was prepared for Hastinapura as well. Because of the importance of the royal birth, the palace did not use an ordinary messenger.
Instead, the news was entrusted to a Royal Syena, a special type of falcon used by the royal household for particularly important communications.
Royal Syenas were extraordinarily fast, but they were difficult birds to train. Their nature made them unsuitable for ordinary long-distance correspondence, and only a small number of them could be trained reliably enough for such journeys. Even then, they were generally reserved for messages that could not afford to wait.
This was one such message.
The falcon was released with the royal letter securely attached.
The distance between Kanipura and Hastinapura was enormous, roughly thirteen hundred kilometres, yet the Royal Syena covered it in less than a day.
By the following dawn, while Kanipura was only beginning another morning, the news had already reached Hastinapura.
Princess Dharani, daughter of Karna and Dushala, the first grandchild of King Dritarashtra, the eldest of the next generation of the Kuru Dynasty, had been born.