THE CURSE OF BRAHMA Page 22

  Ugra’s heart warmed to Bhargava. He had always considered the old man his friend, ever since he had saved his life. But he had never thought that Bhargava may look upon him as anything more than a tool to train the assassins. Hearing Bhargava calling him his friend filled the big asura with a joy he had not known till now. He also realized now why Bhargava had told the Dark Lord that he was the chief of the Zataka Upanshughataks earlier. He had done it so that the cloaked figure would refrain from hurting him. Ugra mentally kicked himself. And I thought Bhargava was trying to scare this man by telling him who I was. He was actually pleading with him not to kill me, he reflected with embarrassment.

  The cloaked figure was laughing; it was a hoarse laugh, but a laugh undoubtedly. ‘Who said I am going to kill Ugra? I just want to teach him how to use that damn sword.’

  Ugra felt his anger rising again. It helped subdue the fear he felt in the Dark Lord’s presence. ‘It is easy to fight anyone when you use magic. Try fighting me without your tricks and I will show you how to use that sword.’

  The cloaked figure chuckled. ‘This is not magic, son. It is pure Brahman energy; the very force that moves the universe.’ He paused, his veiled face lost in thought. ‘But you have a point. I will not use this with you. It wouldn’t be fair. I will fight you as a normal person, without the use of anything but my skill.’

  Ugra relaxed. Irrespective of how powerful the Dark Lord was, Ugra had unshakeable faith in his own skills as a swordsman. He knew there was no one who could use a long blade like him. He got ready to duel. But the cloaked figure stopped him.

  ‘While I will fight you without using the force of Brahman energy, would you want me to use some magic to get your bhuta back to life?’ He chuckled again, while emphasizing the word ‘magic’, thinking to himself how anyone could confuse Brahman energy—the oldest form of power—with something as crude as magic.

  Bhargava was astonished at Amartya’s light-hearted mood. He hadn’t heard him chuckle or joke in the past two hundred years, ever since he had known him. Maybe getting him out of that bloody room of his is good for his mind, he thought to himself.

  Ugra and the other asuras watched dumbfounded as the Dark Lord pointed his index finger at the lifeless bhuta. A cloud of blue light enveloped the dead monster’s body and the incredible power of the Brahman energy could be felt by all present, even at that distance. The asuras looked on amazed, as the bhuta started showing the first indications of regaining life. It started with the faint almost imperceptible movements of his extremities, and then transformed into more visible signs of life creeping back into his form. The bhuta stirred and finally opened his eyes with a jolt. He looked around and saw the dazed eyes of other asuras staring at him. Gradually, he realized that he was sitting on the ground, and he jumped up with a scream. Bhutas dreaded any contact with the earth as overexposure to it could reduce their potency.

  ‘Welcome back, Nisata. You scared the living daylights out of me,’ Ugra said exultantly, hugging the bhuta. ‘I thought you were gone forever.’

  Nisata gently extricated himself from his chief. He floated in the direction of the Dark Lord. Ugra tensed, concerned that the bhuta might again try and attack the cloaked man, and this time the Dark Lord may not be so merciful. But his anxiety was misplaced. To his utter amazement, Nisata prostrated himself in front of the Dark Lord. ‘Forgive me, My Lord, I thought you were going to hurt my chief. I didn’t know who you were.’ His nasal voice was full of respect for the man who had brought him back to life.

  The Dark Lord motioned to Nisata to rise. He was aware from his initial days in Pataal Lok how painful it was for a bhuta to be in contact with the ground and he wanted to spare it any superfluous pain. ‘You were doing your duty, Nisata. I forgive you. Go now. Your chief and I have work to do!’

  Nisata looked from the Dark Lord to Ugra, unsure what to do. Ugra nodded at him and the bhuta floated away into the darkness.

  Ugra looked uncomfortably at the cloaked figure. He found it difficult to comprehend this man people called the Dark Lord. He had killed the kalakanja and sent him to the deepest recesses of hell, and yet just now, he had brought back to life the bhuta who had tried to kill him. The contradiction bothered him. But what perplexed him even more was that he was beginning to respect the man, perhaps even like him. Two things that were not easy for a man like Ugra to do.

  ‘Uh…I-I wanted to thank you for bringing the bhuta…uh, Nisata…back to life,’ Ugra mumbled in a low tone.

  ‘It’s quite okay. You don’t need to thank me for that. I took his praana and I gave it back to him. It is inconsequential. You can, however, thank me later for teaching you how to use that sword,’ the Dark Lord’s voice was mildly mocking again, but this time, Ugra didn’t find it within himself to react.

  ‘It would be an honour to learn from you, My Lord!’ he said softly.

  Ugra looked with satisfaction upon his latest batch of trained assassins. This was possibly the best lot amongst all the men he had trained so far for Bhargava. A few weeks had elapsed since the Dark Lord and Bhargava had visited the training arena, and their coming had provided a huge impetus to the enthusiasm of the new recruits. Seeing the Dark Lord instruct the fearsome chief of the Zataka Upanshughataks in the finer aspects of sword play, had made them even more enthusiastic about excelling in their training.

  Ugra smiled with unbridled affection at Ghora, the boy who had grown to become a leader of men in a short time. It had been difficult at first. Ghora had too much kindness in his nature to become an assassin. But he was a natural hunter. Despite his youth and his disarming charm, he was now amongst the foremost warriors that Ugra had ever known. His prowess in the art of fighting exceeded even the best of the Zataka Upanshughataks. More importantly, however, he had shown an incredible talent for leading men. It was this particular trait, more than his fighting prowess, that convinced Ugra to announce Ghora as the commander of the assassin module being sent to Hastinapur. New recruits were being dispatched to the city of Hastinapur and the young boy would now lead these men when the time came.

  Ghora’s unit got ready to leave. They would enter Mrityulok through Magadha and surreptitiously make their way to Hastinapur. Ghora spoke to his men, and made his way towards the man he had begun to view as his father.

  ‘Pranaam, Gurudev,’ he kneeled down in front of Ugra, who blessed him and in a rare display of public affection, hugged the young man. He looked closely at Ghora and sensed that something was bothering the boy.

  ‘You look troubled, son. What is the matter?’ he asked quietly.

  Ghora shuffled his feet uncomfortably. He had passed all the tests with remarkable ease, and Ugra had been more than vocal about his potential and bright future. But there were questions that plagued him, made him get up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat.

  ‘What is the matter with you?’ Ugra repeated his question, more forceful now.

  ‘Gurudev, why are we doing this?’ he asked in a strained voice. ‘Why do we want to kill innocent people in Mrityulok? What have they done to us?’

  Ugra’s face tightened. Since he had begun to think of Ghora as his adopted son, he too had begun to question his purpose in life. He had frequently considered leaving with Ghora to move to a new place, away from Pataal Lok, and start a fresh life somewhere else. But the debt he owed to Bhargava precluded any other preferences he may have otherwise had about leading a different life.

  He looked now at Ghora and spoke firmly. This time, the voice was that of the chief of the Zataka Upanshughataks, and not that of the adoring mentor. ‘It is not for us to question why,’ he said his voice heavy with regret. ‘Bhargava demands my loyalty and I demand yours. I have already offered Bhargava mine. Will you offer me yours?’

  Ghora did not fail to sense Ugra’s pain as he forced himself to say the words to his favourite pupil. He hung his head, ashamed at having questioned his teacher. The greater part of his soul still recoiled from what he knew he had to do when he reac
hed Hastinapur. But the other part of him that was mortgaged in loyalty to Ugra, made him nod his acquiescence to his teacher. ‘I will do what you have commanded me to do, or else I will not return with a head on my shoulders.’

  He quickly walked back to his men, ready to leave the only land he had ever known as home.

  Svapnasrsti

  arasandha shifted his body impatiently. He had been standing, gazing through a carefully concealed peephole that gave him an unrestricted view of Kansa’s bed chambers from his own room. The peephole had been built in such a way that it was virtually impossible for anyone in the guest room to notice. The acoustics of the adjacent room were architected in a manner that even the slightest whisper from the guest room could be heard in Jarasandha’s chamber, but sounds from his room would be completely inaudible in the guest section. This had been done to enable Jarasandha to spy on the activities and conversations of specific guests that came to Magadha. In this case, it was being used to keep a tab on Kansa’s movements, and this was not something that Jarasandha relished. It bothered him that he was making Kansa an unwitting player in his deal with the Dark Lord. But the stakes were too high. The Dark Lord had promised to make him, Jarasandha, the undisputed lord of all of Mrityulok if he helped him. Once he ascended that ladder over all the other powerful kings of Mrityulok, he intended to make Kansa his heir. This thought made him feel less guilty about what he was doing to his closest friend and brother-in-law.

  The king of Magadha sighed. Power was such a strange experience. It didn’t matter how much of it you had, you always wanted more. He was already one of the most powerful kings in Mrityulok. Most of the rulers in Bharat and the other lands of Mrityulok bowed to him. But to be the Lord of all of Mrityulok! That was a powerful dream indeed; a dream that only the Dark Lord could help him achieve. And it would be his, if he supported the Dark Lord in his plans.

  Jarasandha noticed Kansa move in his sleep in the other room. He was suddenly alert. It had begun! The Dark Lord had told him that he would be using the art of svapnasrsti on Kansa. Svapnasrsti was the ability to enter a person’s mind and create a dream that would seem so vivid that the person dreaming it would be haunted by the reality of it, even after waking up. Frequent doses of svapnasrsti administered to a person could make them lose sight of what was real and what was imagined. This had already happened with Banasura and Chanur. They were now completely in the power of the Dark Lord, not knowing most of the time whether they were taking their own decisions or being prompted by some powerful external force.

  There was a sudden gasp from Kansa, and Jarasandha watched him writhe in agony on his bed. Kansa’s face reflected pain of such proportions that even the battle-hardened Jarasandha shuddered. And in that instant, he saw Kansa leap up from his bed, his hand clutching his heart. ‘He killed me Devki…your son killed me,’ he screamed in anguish, sobbing hysterically. His face reflected his betrayal and his torment.

  Ugrasena completed writing the letter to Kansa. His quill hovered over the page, unsure how to end the note. He wanted to write ‘Your loving father’ at the end of the message, but he didn’t know how Kansa would react to it in his current frame of mind. Instead, he just wrote ‘Your father’ and hastily folded the letter in a scroll that would be carried by a messenger to his son in Magadha.

  ‘Hand this to my son when you reach Jarasandha’s court,’ Ugrasena instructed the messenger. Rabhu nodded in understanding and turned to leave.

  ‘And Rabhu…’ Ugrasena called after the messenger. ‘Hand it over only to the prince. No one else must know the contents.’

  Rabhu nodded gravely and gave Ugrasena a final bow. The king’s words and tone left him in no doubt about the importance of keeping the message confidential. He would make sure it reached the right hands.

  I have assembled a task force of fifty, My Lord!’ Airawat said in a matter-of-fact tone. ‘Another fifty will be ready in the next few days. These are the toughest men I could find in Madhuvan. Some of them are from the army, but majority are mercenaries who will fight anyone if the price is right.’ He saw Ugrasena’s cogitative expression and decided to explain.

  ‘The mercenaries may not have the same code of ethics as our army, My Lord. But they are fearless and their fighting tactics are unconventional. I believe we will require people like those to fight the asura assassins.’ Airawat waited for some reaction from his king, which was not long in coming.

  ‘But how predictable will the mercenaries be? And will they be amenable to being instructed?’ Ugrasena seemed to hesitate before continuing. ‘We can’t afford any chances when fighting with the asura insurgents, Airawat.’

  Airawat had anticipated this argument. ‘My Lord, the mercenaries practice the same discipline as our army personnel; perhaps even higher. That won’t be an issue. And don’t forget, while the mercenary will do anything for a price, they too are born of the same land as we. The only thing they hold dearer than money is the love for their country. They will give their life for Madhuvan…for the safety and honour of all the lands of Mrityulok’ There was pride and conviction in Airawat’s voice.

  Ugrasena nodded his assent. ‘That’s good then. What are the next steps?’

  ‘Special training for the task force has already commenced, My Lord. We should be ready in a month’s time.’ He paused, unsure of his next question.

  Ugrasena, however, noticed his hesitation. Airawat had been too long with him for the king to miss these strategic pauses. ‘You wanted to ask me something, Airawat?’ he prodded gently.

  ‘Uh yes, My Lord…I was wondering…would Prince Kansa be joining us? Vasudev is held in awe by everyone, especially after he defeated Somdatta so decisively. But the men would be happier to be led by their own prince.’

  Ugrasena looked hard at him. ‘And you, Airawat? Would you also be happier to be led by Kansa?’

  Airawat looked away. He didn’t know what answer the king expected. Hence, he spoke from his heart. ‘My Lord, I am a soldier. I will follow any general as long as he is worthy of respect and has the welfare of the country close to his heart. Both Vasudev and Kansa meet these criteria. But the rest of the team…I think they would be more motivated if they were led by their own Prince. And the fact is that there is no general in this land who inspires the best in these men as Prince Kansa does.’

  ‘Hmm!’ Ugrasena mumbled softly. ‘Then for your sake and the sake of your men’s motivation, let us hope that Kansa returns to Madhuvan soon. I have written to him and if I know my son, he will be here soon.’ Ugrasena smiled at his cavalry commander.

  Airawat’s face reflected his happiness at the news. Like most people, he hadn’t failed to notice the growing strain between the king and Prince Kansa in the recent past. But he was relieved that Ugrasena had called for his son. Airawat, too, felt confident that Kansa would return to lead the Madhuvan task force. And with the valiant Kansa leading them, they would break the back of the asura assassins.

  Jarasandha took the letter from Rabhu’s hand. He was glad he had spies on his payroll in every major kingdom including Madhuvan. He asked Rabhu to wait while he took the letter with him to his anukta kaksha. He wanted to read it in peace and without anyone else watching. He took the letter out of the scroll, and his hands trembled with excitement as he began to read what was written:

  My son,

  I hope you have found the peace you were searching for, when you left your home. I sincerely hope so, because I haven’t had one moment of peace in my life ever since you left. I know you feel I have let you down somehow. And perhaps I have.

  You asked me a question the other day when I told you about your birth. And I did not answer the question. Perhaps my inability to give you an answer made you imagine things differently than how they were. Your question was whether I, too, like your mother, ever felt like killing you when you were a baby. I couldn’t answer this question that day because it breaks my heart to even think of such a thing for you. The truth is that the first time I laid my eyes on yo
u, as you huddled close to that attendant while your mother was trying to kill you, I loved you in that instant. It didn’t matter that you were born from another man. I accepted you as mine…as a gift from the gods. I gave you all my love and you returned more than I ever gave you. It saddened me sometimes that I couldn’t give the same love to your other brothers and sisters because all my love went to you and Devki. But your affection and regard for me, more than made up for everything else.

  I am writing this letter to you today, because I need your help. Madhuvan and its people need their Prince to return. And no one desires that as much as I do.

  I would not be exaggerating if I said that the entire land of Bharat and other lands in Mrityulok are in danger. There is a conspiracy afoot. Pataal Lok has sent asura assassins that have breached the borders of several kingdoms and spread all over key locations in Mrityulok. These assassins are lying in wait for a signal from their commanders in Pataal Lok. At the first indication, they will start spreading chaos all over our world. And then…we believe that when the chaos reaches its zenith, Pataal Lok will launch a full-scale attack all over Mrityulok. We don’t yet know why they are doing this. But Maharishi Narada—yes, Narada himself told me all this—believes that this attack could happen anytime in the future.

  We need to defend ourselves against this imminent danger. Narada is personally travelling to various kingdoms to caution them and advise them to assemble special covert task forces to search out these assassins and destroy them. Airawat has already started preparing such a task force at Madhuvan and both he and I are looking forward for you to come and lead this as the Madhuvan commander-in-chief. Meanwhile, Vasudev has gone to Bateshwar to ask Sini Yadav to build a similar task force there. I mentioned to Airawat that Vasudev would lead the Madhuvan task force till such time that you return, but I know that won’t really be necessary. Because I have no doubt that as soon as you read this letter, you will take the swiftest horse available in Magadha, and return to your father and your home.