द्विधा रङ्गः समभवत् स्त्रीणां द्वैधम् अजायत ॥
कुन्तिभोजसुता मोहं विज्ञातार्था जगाम ह ॥
तां तथा मोहसंपन्नां विदुरः सर्वधर्मवित् ॥
कुन्तीम् आश्वासयाम् आस प्रोक्ष्याद्भिश् चन्दनोक्षितैः ॥
ततः प्रत्यागतप्राणा ताव् उभाव् अपि दंशितौ ॥
पुत्रौ दृष्ट्वा सुसंतप्ता नान्वपद्यत किं चन ॥
dvidhā raṅgaḥ samabhavat strīṇāṃ dvaidham ajāyata ||
kuntibhojasutā mohaṃ vijñātārthā jagāma ha ||
tāṃ tathā mohasaṃpannāṃ viduraḥ sarvadharmavit ||
kuntīm āśvāsayām āsa prokṣyādbhiś candanokṣitaiḥ ||
tataḥ pratyāgataprāṇā tāv ubhāv api daṃśitau ||
putrau dṛṣṭvā susaṃtaptā nānvapadyata kiṃ cana ||
"The arena split in two, and among the women a division arose; and the daughter of Kuntibhoja, grasping the truth, fell into a swoon. Her, thus fallen senseless, Vidura, knower of all dharma, brought back to herself, sprinkling her with sandal-scented water. Then, when her breath returned, seeing both her sons in armor [facing each other], deeply anguished, she could not utter anything."
bb56ebf6d48f · published Jul 12, 2026, 4:53:32 PM UTC
Available inRUENPage between verses with
Here is one of the bitterest silences in the epic. It is telling that Kunti, the only one who knows the secret, faints upon recognizing her own son in Karna: before her eyes her two sons stand ready to kill each other, and she dares not reveal the truth. The verse lays bare the anguish of helpless silence: bound by the shame of her own long-ago act, the mother is condemned to watch her sons' enmity without the right to stop it. Telling too is her powerlessness — "she could not utter anything": the secret, hidden once out of fear, now binds her lips and her heart alike. Thus the verse shows how long and bitter is the fruit of a concealed transgression: the fear of the young Kunti returns as the anguish of Kunti the mother, standing mute between her two doomed sons. In her silence lies the whole tragedy of Karna, rejected and unrecognized.