Showing posts with label Choosen. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Choosen. Show all posts

Tuesday, June 30, 2026

Who was the choosen one in Mahabharat?

 If we go by the epic, there is no single, definitive "chosen one." Rather, there are multiple chosen ones depending on the definition and criteria being used. In my opinion, the main chosen ones are Karna, Lord Krishna, Arjuna and partly Duryodhana (he's more like a supporting character).

For example, if the criterion is whose destiny was to create dissension within the Kuru lineage and ultimately lead to the Great War, then I would argue it is Karna. I don't think Duryodhana fits this criterion, for the simple reason that it was only after Karna entered the picture to challenge Arjuna and the Pandavas that Duryodhana started actively pursuing schemes to destroy the Pandavas and remove them from the equation. Before that, he generally tolerated Bhima in public and only attempted to kill him secretly by poisoning and drowning him. He never sought a great war, nor did he even seem to think about one. Instead, he relied on petty methods such as sending the Pandavas away, attempting to kill them secretly in the Laksha Griha while making it look like an accident, or defeating them indirectly through gambling and exile. Duryodhana never intended to openly wage a great war to destroy the Pandavas.

It was Karna who repeatedly instigated war and deeper dissension. After Draupadi's svayamvara, he advised Duryodhana to immediately attack the Panchalas and the Pandavas before they could gather allies. During the Virata war, he urged the Kauravas to kill Arjuna quickly so that the remaining Pandavas would commit suicide. Throughout the epic, it is almost always Karna who instigates greater dissension between the Kauravas and the Pandavas and pushes for war. This role is repeatedly highlighted by Narada, Bhishma, Drona, and Vidura.

By the same reasoning, I don't think even Lord Krishna fits this specific criterion of creating war and dissension within the Kuru dynasty. His purpose is slightly different. His mission is to destroy evil, reduce adharma, and lighten the burden of the Earth by eliminating wicked rulers. He did not require the Kurukshetra War to accomplish that. He had already slain many evil kings and beings such as Kamsa, Narakasura, Shishupala, Putana, Bakasura, Shalva, Banasura, and many others. Jarasandha, too, was eliminated before the Kurukshetra War through Krishna's own plan. In Ghatotkacha vadha Parva, after the death of Ghatotkacha, Lord Krishna himself tells Arjuna that, if necessary, these evil rulers would have perished regardless.

Krishna also made repeated attempts to prevent the war. He negotiated for half the kingdom, then for five villages. He personally travelled to Hastinapura as a peace envoy, revealed his Vishvarupa before Duryodhana and Karna, and even suggested arresting—or, if absolutely necessary, killing—Duryodhana for the welfare of the kingdom. Every attempt at peace failed. So, Krishna is the chosen one in the sense that he was destined to destroy evil and reduce the burden of the Earth.


In the same way, Arjuna is the chosen one in the sense that he serves as Krishna's divine instrument for eliminating that evil. He destroys or helps destroy many of the principal obstacles, including the Nivatakavachas, Kalakeyas, Bhishma (through Shikhandi), Karna, and numerous Naga warriors. Throughout the epic, Arjuna is repeatedly protected and empowered by divine intervention. Krishna protects him from Karna's Vasavi Shakti, the serpent-headed weapon, the Brahmastra, Drona's celestial weapons, Ashwatthama's Agneyastra, and, through divine grace and Lord Shiva's boon, the Narayanastra.

This is also why, after Krishna stepped down from Arjuna's chariot at the end of the war, the chariot immediately burst into flames. Later, after Krishna departed from the Earth, Arjuna could no longer effectively wield the Gandiva or even remember many of his celestial weapons. As a result, he was defeated by the Abhira robbers and failed to protect Krishna's wives.

Along with this, Arjuna was also aided by various divine beings on different occasions. During his battle against the Saindhava forces, when he was nearly killed and rendered unconscious, the Brahmarshis revived him and restored his energy. Hanuman sat upon his chariot, weakening Arjuna's enemies through his mighty roars while protecting both Arjuna and his chariot from numerous celestial weapons. Lord Shiva likewise aided him during the fourteenth and fifteenth days of the Kurukshetra War. Arjuna was repeatedly destined, protected, and empowered to accomplish the tasks ordained for him by the gods. Thus, Arjuna can indeed be regarded as the chosen one in the sense that he serves as the divine instrument through whom much of that destiny was fulfilled.

Just like Arjuna serves as Lord Krishna's divine instrument, I would consider Duryodhana to be an aid or a means through which Karna's destiny of bringing about a great war is realised. That is why it was only after Karna entered the picture that Duryodhana began openly opposing the Pandavas and actively turned against them. It was Karna who constantly fuelled their enmity, whether during the Ghosha Yatra Parva or the Virata Parva. It was only with Karna's support and encouragement that Duryodhana became willing to openly confront the Pandavas in battle.

By himself, Duryodhana often appears too insecure and politically cautious to directly wage war against the Pandavas. Instead, he preferred indirect methods such as poisoning Bhima, the Laksha Griha plot, and the game of dice. A good example is the Ghosha Yatra episode, where, after being humiliated and rescued by the very Pandavas he hated, Duryodhana was prepared to give up his life out of shame. It was Karna who, through his persuasive words, restored Duryodhana's resolve. Even after that, it was only when the demons assured him of their support and reminded him of his purpose that he regained the will to live and continue his struggle.

So, in that sense, Duryodhana can be seen more as an instrument through whom Karna—and, by extension, the demons' objective of bringing about the great conflict—fulfilled their purpose, much like Arjuna serves as Lord Krishna's and the devas' instrument in accomplishing theirs.


There are also what could be called "mini chosen ones"—characters whose destinies are tied to accomplishing a specific purpose rather than the overarching narrative. For example, Draupadi is often described as one of the reasons behind the Great War, although I would argue that she was only one contributing factor and that the struggle for the Kuru kingdom was the primary cause. Similarly, Dhrishtadyumna was born specifically to bring about Drona's death, while Shikhandi's destiny was inseparably linked to Bhishma's fall. In the same way, many other characters in the epic were "chosen" for particular roles or destinies. Thus, rather than having one exclusive chosen one, the Mahabharata presents multiple chosen figures, each fulfilling a different divine purpose depending on the context and the criterion being considered.

Monday, March 16, 2026

She was chosen by a king. She was never given a choice.

 At sixteen, Narriman Sadek was engaged to a Harvard scholar and planning her future. Then a king decided he wanted her. Her engagement was dissolved. Her body redesigned. Her life erased. And the world called it a fairy tale.

In 1950, Narriman was a teenage girl from an upper-class Egyptian family. Her father was Deputy Minister of Transportation. She had a normal life—friends, school, plans. She was engaged to Zaki Hashem, a brilliant economist doing his PhD at Harvard and working at the United Nations in New York. She was sixteen years old, with a future of her own choosing.

Then King Farouk noticed her. The story of how they met varies—some say in a jewelry shop, others say royal agents identified her as suitable. What’s certain is that Farouk, recently divorced and desperate for a new bride to produce a male heir, saw in Narriman the perfect candidate: young, Egyptian, from a good family, but not aristocracy. Someone he could mold.

Farouk intervened. Narriman’s engagement was dissolved. Not postponed. Not reconsidered. Ended. Whether she wanted it or not, whether she loved Hashem or not—it didn’t matter. A king had decided. From that moment on, her life ceased to belong to her.

She was removed from her family and sent to Rome, hidden at the Egyptian embassy under the guise of being the “ambassador’s niece.” What followed wasn’t preparation for marriage—it was a systematic dismantling of her identity.

Her body was the first target. Farouk ordered she return to Egypt weighing no more than 50 kilograms. She was put on a strict weight-loss program, monitored, measured, disciplined. Her health didn’t matter. Only her appearance. She was an object being prepared for display.

Her clothes were replaced with couture chosen by others. Jewels assigned. Hairstyles approved or rejected. Even the way she walked, stood, or smiled was deemed wrong. Countess Layla Martly was brought in to teach her “history, behavior, and etiquette”—translation: how to erase herself and become a perfect ornament beside a king.

Her education followed the same pattern. Tutors taught her languages and etiquette, not independence. Every lesson had one purpose: make her a suitable decoration. Privacy vanished. She was never alone, never unobserved. Every thought, every preference, every opinion was subordinated to one role—reflecting Farouk’s image back at him.

The cruelty was disguised as a fairy tale. The press celebrated her “transformation.” Crowds filled the streets. Workers marched in parades. The nation rejoiced at the romance. They admired the gowns and jewels while ignoring the reality: a teenage girl being systematically stripped of personhood.

On May 6, 1951, Narriman—seventeen years old—married King Farouk in a lavish ceremony at Abdeen Palace. She wore a gown embroidered with 20,000 diamonds. She looked perfect. That was all that mattered.

Behind the spectacle was isolation. Farouk was openly unfaithful, gambling and indulging while his teenage bride lived in a gilded cage. Her purpose was simple: produce a male heir and look immaculate while doing it.

On January 16, 1952, she gave birth to their son, Ahmad Fuad. The dynasty was secured. Narriman’s role became even narrower—no longer a person, but a vessel. Any slip was treated as her failure.

Then, barely fourteen months after she became queen, the monarchy collapsed. On July 23, 1952, the Egyptian Revolution began. Three days later, Farouk abdicated. That evening, the royal family sailed into exile. Narriman was eighteen years old. She had been queen for fourteen months.

In exile, Farouk continued his excesses. Narriman, exhausted and isolated, returned to Egypt with her mother. In February 1954, she divorced Farouk. She was twenty years old. She lost custody of her son. The same society that had celebrated her rise now blamed her for surviving.

She tried to rebuild. In May 1954, she married Dr. Adham al-Nakib, Farouk’s former physician, and had a son, Akram. But pressure from Egypt’s new regime destroyed the marriage. They divorced in 1961. In 1967, she married Dr. Ismail Fahmi, a general who gave her privacy and protection. She lived in seclusion in Cairo, refusing to write memoirs, giving only rare interviews.

In later years, she spoke quietly of the loneliness, the surveillance, the erasure. She was treated as ungrateful for speaking at all. Hadn’t she lived in a palace? Worn jewels? Been chosen by a king? That question ignored the price.

Narriman Sadek died on February 16, 2005, at age seventy-one, after a brain hemorrhage. She spent most of her life trying to reclaim a self that had been taken before she was old enough to protect it.

Her story reflects a pattern as old as power itself: young women reshaped into symbols, consumed by men’s ambition, then discarded when the illusion collapses. At sixteen, she had a life. At seventeen, she was married. At eighteen, she was discarded. And she spent the rest of her life trying to remember who she was before a king decided she belonged to him.

She deserved better. She deserved a choice. She deserved to marry the man she loved, build the life she wanted, become the person she was meant to be. Instead, she became a cautionary tale about what happens when power decides a girl is decorative enough to be reshaped.