Chapter 14: Chariots, Chaos, and Laddoos
The palace grounds buzzed with excitement. Flags fluttered, drums rolled, and the royal audience gathered in rows as the sun shone bright over Hastinapur. Today was no ordinary day. It was the long-awaited royal chariot race—a celebration of skill, speed, and teamwork.
Princes from across the court, sons of ministers and warriors, even a few foreign guests, had lined up to participate. The rules were simple: each chariot had two members—a rider and a charioteer. The race wasn't just about speed, but also strategy. And most importantly, teamwork.
Among the many contestants stood Karna, tall and composed, adjusting the reins of his chariot. He wasn't a prince, nor a noble. But he stood proud, his sun-touched face calm as always. He had agreed to be the charioteer for a young boy named Vimanshu, son of a senior court advisor. Vimanshu wasn't the strongest rider, but he had a good heart and trusted Karna completely.
People whispered.
"A Suta boy in the royal race?"
"Shouldn't he be in the stables instead?"
But Karna didn't react. He had learned long ago that silence was the strongest answer.
Standing among the crowd, I—Shon—was having the time of my life.
Not because of the race.
Because of my master plan.
---
Shon's Mischief Mission
While everyone was busy watching the racers prepare, I had my eyes set on something far more important: laddoos. Specifically, the giant laddoos stacked on Bheem's plate. They were golden, soft, and smelled like they had been made with ghee straight from heaven.
And I wanted them.
The trick wasn't stealing. I was already a pro at that. The real challenge? Stealing from Bheem—the human mountain with muscles on top of muscles.
I waited for the right moment.
As Bheem laughed at one of Duryodhan's jokes (yes, that happens sometimes), I crawled under the table like a shadow, snatched two laddoos, and rolled away behind the seating area.
Mission success.
Bheem noticed two missing laddoos a few minutes later. He narrowed his eyes.
"Arjun! Did you take my laddoos?"
Arjun raised an eyebrow. "I'm literally holding my own plate, Bheem."
"Then it must be Nakul or Sahdev."
"Don't look at us," said Nakul. "We don't eat stolen sweets."
"Kauravs then!" Bheem growled.
The Kauravs, sitting two rows behind, looked confused.
"Why would we steal your boring sweets?" sneered Duryodhan.
While they argued, I sat cross-legged in the shade, licking syrup off my fingers. Sweet victory.
---
The Race Begins
The conch blew, and the race was on.
Chariots thundered across the open arena. Horses galloped. Wheels spun. Dust clouds rose in the air. Each team had to make three laps around the vast course that wound through turns, obstacles, and even a shallow water trench.
Vimanshu gripped the sides as Karna expertly guided the chariot. His control was smooth, effortless—like the horses could understand his every thought. They glided through turns, flew past bumps, and stayed clear of other racers.
In the stands, I cheered loudly. "GO BHRATA!"
Beside me, Radha Maa smiled with pride. "Look at him go... like Surya himself is guiding him."
At the halfway point, Vimanshu's chariot was in second place.
Then something happened.
One of the leading chariots, driven by the brash son of a noble, cut across their path. In the chaos, Vimanshu lost his balance and dropped his bow—a key part of defending the chariot during the last lap, where competitors were allowed to shoot blunt arrows at each other's wheels to slow them down.
Gasps filled the crowd.
"Without a bow, they're done for!" someone shouted.
But then... Karna did something amazing.
Without stopping the chariot, without missing a beat, he reached for Vimanshu's backup bow lying at the rear corner.
He nocked an arrow, aimed at the attacking chariot's wheels, and fired.
Bullseye.
The opponent's wheel splintered slightly, just enough to slow them down.
Arjun, watching from the other team's camp, was stunned.
"That was... perfect," he whispered.
The last lap was chaos. Wheels collided, dust blinded, and racers fought to stay upright. But Karna drove with the precision of a seasoned warrior. Vimanshu, regaining his confidence, shot a few arrows and helped keep their position.
When the final flag was raised, Karna and Vimanshu crossed the line in first place.
The crowd roared.
Trumpets blared.
Radha Maa cried.
And I screamed so loud my voice cracked.
---
The Prize and the Murmurs
At the prize ceremony, Maharaj Dhritarashtra handed out garlands and gold coins to the winners.
Karna bowed respectfully.
But as they walked away, the whispers began again.
"How can a Suta boy shoot like that?"
"Who taught him archery?"
"Shouldn't be allowed... it's not his place."
Karna heard every word.
He didn't flinch.
He just tightened his grip on the reins and walked off.
I ran to him after the ceremony.
"You were amazing, bhrata!" I beamed.
He smiled, patting my head. "Thank you, Shon. I only did what I had to."
That's Karna for you.
Always graceful. Always quiet.
---
Tensions Rise — Pandavs vs Kauravs
After the event, the royal children gathered at the palace gardens. It was supposed to be a moment of unity.
Spoiler: It wasn't.
Duryodhan sneered as he passed by Yudhishthir.
"So, how does it feel to come back to Hastinapur and still not be king?"
Yudhishthir smiled calmly. "I don't need a crown to know who I am."
"Big words from someone with empty hands," Dushasan added.
Bheem stood up. "Want to test those hands, Dushasan?"
"Oh please," said Duryodhan. "You probably still cry when your laddoos go missing."
Bheem growled. "I KNEW IT WAS YOU!"
"Wait—what?" said Duryodhan, genuinely confused.
Arjun rolled his eyes. "It wasn't them, Bheem."
The argument almost turned into a wrestling match if not for the arrival of their little sister—Dushala.
Barely three, she looked like a tiny doll dressed in royal silk.
"Bhrata Bheem! Bhrata Duryodhan! Don't fight!" she cried, running in with her arms wide.
Immediately, both factions stopped.
Bheem scooped her up. "For you, little one, I won't punch anyone today."
Duryodhan pinched her cheek gently. "You're the only one who can stop this wild ox."
The brothers might clash often, but when it came to Dushala, they all melted. She was the heart of the family. Even I liked her.
She gave me one of her sweets once. That's enough to win my loyalty forever.
---
That day ended with laughter, sweets, and a little less tension—thanks to a little girl with a big heart.
But behind the smiles, I could feel it.
The competition had started.
The rivalries were real.
And this race?
It was only the beginning.
---