Kunti Abandons Karna in the River
An unmarried princess gives birth in secret, wraps the newborn in a basket, and sets him adrift on a river at night. She weeps over him, calls on the gods to protect him, and returns to her father's palace as if nothing happened. The basket floats through three rivers before reaching a city of charioteers — where a child in divine armour will be found.
Kunti was not yet a queen. She was Pritha, daughter of the Yadava king Shurasena, given as a foster child to her childless cousin Kuntibhoja. She was young, unmarried, and living in her foster father's palace when the sage Durvasa arrived.
Durvasa was not an easy guest. He was known for his temper — a Brahmin whose curses could reshape a life in a single sentence. Kunti served him with absolute devotion for a full year, anticipating his every need before he could voice it. Pleased, the sage taught her a mantra that could summon any god she chose and compel him to give her a child.
She was curious. She was young. She summoned Surya, the sun god.
He came. She could not send him away. A virgin cannot become a mother — but she became one anyway. The child was born with divine armour fastened to his skin and earrings of amrita (the nectar of immortality) in his ears. He was radiant, like the sun itself.
And he could not stay.
Kunti wrapped the newborn in a soft cloth and placed him in a basket woven of reeds. She carried him to the river Ashva under cover of night, with only her nurse beside her. She set the basket on the water. And then she spoke.
She called on the gods one by one. "May King Varuna, lord of the waters, protect you in the water. May the wind-god, who travels everywhere, protect you in the sky. May your father — foremost among those who provide heat — protect you everywhere." She named the Adityas, the Vasus, the Rudras, the Sadhyas, the Vishvadevas, the Maruts, Indra himself. She asked the directions and the lords of the directions to guard him in smooth terrain and rough.
She told the infant that she would recognize him anywhere — by the armour he wore.
She spoke of the woman who would find him. "Blessed is the woman who will adopt you as her son. You are the son of a god and when you are thirsty, you will drink milk at her breast." She imagined him crawling on the ground, covered in dust, uttering inarticulate sounds. She imagined him as a youth, like a lion with a mane, in the forests of the Himalayas.
She wept. She yearned to see him. She pushed the basket away from the bank and watched it drift into the current.
Then she went back to the palace — frightened that her father might find out.
The basket floated from the river Ashva to the Charmanvati, from the Charmanvati to the Yamuna, and from the Yamuna to the Ganga. The waves of the Ganga carried it downstream to the city of Champa, the habitation of charioteers. The divine armour and earrings — created from amrita — protected the child. The gods watched over him, because of what had been ordained by destiny. Aranyaka Parva, Chapter 589