The moment Karna placed the evidence before the royal court of Hastinapura, the last threads of doubt in the minds of the ministers finally snapped.
Until now, some had feared that grief had clouded his judgment, others had suspected political manipulation, and a few had even wondered whether divine vision itself could mislead a man when anger entered his heart.
But the leather-bound record book lying on the court table now felt heavier than iron.
The entire sabha hall fell into a deep silence. No whispers. No arguments. Only the faint crackling of the oil lamps and the distant ringing of temple bells outside drifted into the quiet.
Every gaze slowly shifted toward Shakuni.
For the first time since the investigation began, the Gandhar king truly looked cornered. Sweat rolled from the side of his forehead despite the cool air. His fingers twitched against the folds of his robes while thoughts raced wildly through his mind.
That fool, he cursed inwardly. That useless Purochana. Why keep the records? Why write everything down? Why preserve the note as well? The man truly deserved death.
Think, Shakuni. Think.
His eyes darted across the court—Bhishma, Vidura, Dhritarashtra, Duryodhana, Karna. Every direction felt dangerous now.
Then Bhishma descended from his place near the throne and walked directly toward him with slow, measured steps. The sound of his footfalls echoed across the marble. When he stopped before Shakuni, his towering presence alone made several nearby courtiers lower their eyes.
Bhishma then spoke, his voice low and almost threatening, "Do you possess anything in your defense, Gandhar Raj?"
Shakuni panicked inside, but outwardly he forced himself to speak before silence crushed him completely.
"Maharaj… it is all a giant misunderstanding!"
Several ministers frowned at once.
He hurried on. "Yes… the materials are real. But they were never meant for the palace itself!"
Bhishma's eyes narrowed. Shakuni swallowed hard.
"I had ordered Purochana to construct a massive ritual statue. A special yajna was to be conducted. For months, misfortune has fallen upon the Kuru family—rivalries, conflicts, unrest, even the deaths of so many noble souls in recent years. I consulted certain priests from Gandhara. They advised me to perform a great purification ritual during Amavasya to remove the evil eye and bad luck surrounding Hastinapura."
Some ministers exchanged uncertain looks. Shakuni pressed on before anyone could interrupt.
"The statue was to be made using lac, resin, oil, ghee, sandalwood, and other sacred combustible materials. On the night of Amavasya, the statue would have been burned ceremonially to cleanse the kingdom of misfortune." He lowered his head dramatically. "I never imagined Purochana would misuse those materials and burn the entire palace instead!"
The court became uncertain once more—not convinced, but uncertain. And uncertainty itself was enough for Shakuni to survive.
Beside him, Duryodhana visibly panicked at the direction things were taking. He stepped forward at once to support his uncle.
"Grandsire… Uncle Shakuni has always remained loyal to our family. And… I no longer held hostility toward the Pandavas either."
For a brief second, guilt flickered in his eyes before vanishing beneath the pressure. "I stopped arguing with them in court. I accepted Yudhisthira as Crown Prince. I even worked for reforms in the kingdom. Why would we suddenly commit such an act?"
He pointed toward the book.
"It truly must have been Purochana's doing. The true villain may have been him all along. What if he was secretly working for an enemy kingdom? Maybe for Maharaj Drupad. Or some other king. Hastinapur has many enemies, Grandsire. Perhaps he wanted conflict within our family. We should investigate Purochana's origins properly rather than punish Uncle Shakuni, who is innocent here."
Karna's expression darkened as he listened to the performance unfold.
Then he spoke again.
"A statue?" His voice carried restrained anger. He looked directly at Shakuni. "How enormous a statue were you planning to build that it required one thousand kilograms of lac? And ten thousand liters of oil? Six thousand liters of ghee? Enough combustible material to burn an entire village?"
The court fell silent once more.
Shakuni answered hurriedly without any shame. "I wished to create a never-before-seen ritual statue! Even before the fire, the only message I sent Purochana was asking about the progress of the statue! How could I have imagined he would misuse my instructions like this?"
Karna's rage rose at such shameless twisting of the truth.
And yet, for the briefest moment, confusion touched him as well.
What he had witnessed through divine vision did not entirely contradict Shakuni's claim.
He had seen the records, the materials, the hawk delivering instructions—but he had not actually seen the contents of the written message itself.
That realization struck him suddenly.
For a fleeting second, uncertainty entered even his mind.
Did I misunderstand?
Did anger blind me?
Did I accuse him falsely?
The thought disturbed him more than anything else. To Karna, falsely accusing someone of adharma was itself a grave sin.
Before he could speak further, Dhritarashtra raised his hand from the throne.
"Enough."
The court quieted at once.
"Shakuni. Even if your explanation is true, your foolish trust in Purochana has caused tremendous loss to this family. The Pandu princes and Queen Kunti are dead. And Hastinapura mourns because of your negligence."
Shakuni quickly lowered his head.
"However," the king continued, "since you did not commit the act directly with your own hands, we shall not punish you too harshly. Yet you shall not escape punishment entirely either. I order you immediately to return to Gandhara. And from this day onward you shall no longer involve yourself in Hastinapura's court affairs."
Genuine alarm crossed Shakuni's face. That punishment struck deeper than prison—it removed influence, proximity, and control.
Nearby, Karna's hands slowly clenched. Something still felt wrong. Too smooth. Too convenient. Too quickly resolved. But because uncertainty had touched even his own heart for a moment, he remained silent.
Dhritarashtra turned toward Duryodhana.
"And Duryodhana, my son. You were responsible for constructing the mansion. You share responsibility alongside Shakuni."
The king's voice carried disappointment as he continued. "And with the deaths of the Pandu princes, you might be the heir to the throne. But this incident has shown that you are not yet prepared to handle such responsibilities fully. After the mourning period ends, you shall depart for Bhagirathi Pradesh. You will govern the region temporarily. Until you prove yourself capable, you shall remain there. And until then, Hastinapura shall have no Crown Prince. It shall be governed as it was before Yudhisthira's appointment."
Duryodhana's face paled completely. The punishment sounded mild outwardly, but politically it was devastating.
Then Dhritarashtra turned to Karna.
"Maharaj Karna. You acted under misunderstanding. But considering your intentions arose from grief and outrage, and the fact that you brought evidence to light and solved this case in a day, and how you have never attacked out of misunderstanding either, we forgive you. You need not apologize. This is not the time to create greater chaos within Hastinapura while the kingdom mourns." Slowly, deliberately, he added, "After the mourning period ends, the wedding shall proceed as originally planned. Do you accept this verdict?"
The entire court turned toward Karna.
He looked first at Dhritarashtra, then at Shakuni, then Duryodhana, then Bhishma. A strange dizziness touched him—not physical weakness, but instinct. The unsettling feeling that unseen currents flowed beneath the surface while he only watched the ripples above. Everything felt too smooth, too controlled, too perfectly resolved.
For a brief moment, suspicion returned.
But another thought rose with it: the Pandavas were alive.
Queen Kunti was alive.
No true harm had reached them.
And Hastinapura had already punished both Shakuni and Duryodhana publicly. Dragging the matter further would only deepen unrest.
After a long, slow breath, Karna spoke.
"I still do not fully believe Gandhar Raj is innocent." His words made Shakuni stiffen again. "But… I accept Maharaj's verdict. And I shall let this matter end here."