For the next several days, Kanipura became a festival ground.
Sages, ascetics, and learned Brahmins came and went throughout the day, some arriving simply to see the child and offer their blessings, while others surprised the royal family by asking to bless the infant themselves before offering their own prayers.
The sight never failed to leave the queens slightly bewildered.
They were accustomed to sages blessing royal children, but seeing revered ascetics lower their heads before a baby and seek her blessings in return was something entirely different.
Karna himself did not encourage anyone to treat Dharani as something above his other children, and whenever possible he reminded those around him that she was still an infant who needed to be cared for rather than worshipped, but there was little he could do about the natural reverence that had begun surrounding her.
The unusual events accompanying her birth had already become known throughout Kanipura, and the stories grew with every retelling.
The flowers that had bloomed out of season, the celestial music, the shower of blossoms had given the people enough reason to believe that the child was extraordinary.
The attention brought another unexpected benefit to the household.
Whenever sages came to see Dharani, they naturally met Karna's other children as well.
Some would place their hands upon the heads of his sons and daughters and offer blessings. It meant that children who otherwise might never have encountered such revered figures received their blessings too.
Mrinalini quietly appreciated that aspect of the attention to their respective children, as did several of the other queens. Despite the fact that every Queen treats another stepchild as their own too, there was still something comforting in watching their children receive blessings from men whose lives had been devoted to knowledge and spiritual discipline.
Dhavani, however, found herself struggling with a more complicated feeling.
She liked Dushala, and she was genuinely happy that Dushala had given birth safely to a daughter.
That happiness was real.
Yet whenever another sage arrived specifically because of Dharani, whenever someone whispered that the child was extraordinary, or whenever a revered ascetic bowed before the infant, a small irritation rose within Dhavani that she could not entirely suppress.
'So she is special enough for all of them to come here,' she sometimes thought while watching from a distance.
There was a childish part of her that disliked seeing so much attention gathered around Dushala's child, particularly because Dharani seemed to possess something none of the other children had received at birth.
Still, there was one thing that genuinely pleased her. Dushala had given birth to a daughter.
Not a son.
If it were a son, then that son would be destined to become Karna's successor. And Dhavani could not digest hastinapur's lineage would succeed Karna...
Almost two weeks passed in this manner.
Then, one morning, a messenger arrived with news that immediately changed the atmosphere within the palace.
"Duryodhana has arrived."
Karna went to receive him.
The journey from Hastinapura had been long, and Duryodhana had come not merely as a relative but as the representative of the Kuru kingdom, carrying gifts for his newborn niece.
He entered the palace with attendants carrying beautifully decorated vessels, ornaments, garments and other presents intended for Dharani, from him and his brothers. Karna received him warmly, and after the formalities were completed, the two friends withdrew to speak more comfortably.
As they walked through the palace, Karna found himself observing Duryodhana more closely than he usually did.
Nearly ten months had passed since Karna had last seen this particular side of him.
There was a noticeable difference.
Duryodhana spoke about Hastinapura's affairs with considerably greater confidence than before.
He discussed administrative matters, revenue, the concerns of different provinces and the behaviour of several officials, and he did so without the old restlessness that had often accompanied his words.
His thoughts appeared more organized.
He listened more carefully.
Even his manner of speaking had changed.
There was a maturity in him now that Karna had not seen before.
More importantly, the insecurity that had once seemed to sit permanently beneath Duryodhana's anger was far less visible.
Karna noticed it.
He did not know precisely what had caused the change, nor did he feel the need to ask immediately.
Perhaps Duryodhana had simply grown mature.
Perhaps responsibility had forced him to become more disciplined.
Perhaps the passage of time had softened certain wounds within him.
Whatever the reason, Karna could now speak to him as a friend without constantly feeling that some old resentment was waiting beneath the surface.
At one point, Duryodhana glanced at Karna and laughed.
"You have stolen so many princesses from different kingdoms that perhaps the gods have finally decided to punish you."
Karna looked at him with amusement. "Punish me?"
"Yes. By giving you daughters. You will eventually have to give all of them away to other kingdoms across Bharatvarsha."
Karna shook his head. "Having a daughter is not a punishment, Duryodhana. It is a blessing."
Duryodhana smiled. "Perhaps when they are young. But wait until the day you have to send each one away after her marriage. Every time you give away a daughter, it will break your heart. And you will have to experience that multiple times. Tell me, isn't that rather close to a punishment?"
Karna looked at him for a moment before laughing softly.
"I suppose that is one way of looking at it."
Duryodhana grinned. "Exactly."
The conversation was simple, almost ordinary, and that was precisely what struck Karna. There had been a time when every conversation with Duryodhana seemed to contain nothing but dissent toward the Pandavas. Whatever topic he started, somehow, Duryodhana used to keep bringing atleast one of the Pandavas into the conversation.
Now, the Pandavas didn't exist between them. And as they grew closer, they could tease each other about their families and laugh without either feeling the need to prove something.
Their friendship had become easier.
But Karna knew that Duryodhana had not suddenly become another man.
The difference was important.
Over the following days, Karna also witnessed how much Duryodhana's physical abilities had improved. It appeared that the Kuru prince had been training almost every day. His strength had increased noticeably, and his technique with the mace had become far more refined. Eventually, he fought Gavaksha in a one-on-one mace duel, and to Karna's surprise, the battle ended without either man being able to decisively defeat the other.
Gavaksha was a Vanara.
Even without transforming into his twelve-foot battle form, his physical strength was far beyond that of an ordinary rathi. For Duryodhana to stand against him and fight him evenly was a clear indication of how much the prince had developed.
Karna watched the duel carefully.
Duryodhana's movements were no longer merely powerful. There was thought behind them. He had learned when to attack, when to retreat, how to conserve strength, and how to use his opponent's momentum against him. Gavaksha remained the physically stronger warrior, but Duryodhana's technique and growing strength allowed him to compensate for the difference.
When the duel finally ended without a victor, Karna found himself genuinely impressed.
'He has worked hard.'
That much could not be denied.
Yet admiration for Duryodhana's improvement did not mean Karna had forgotten the things that still bothered him.
Duryodhana had become a better prince, but he had not completely changed his worldview.
Karna noticed it in small moments.