THE CURSE OF BRAHMA Read online

  Meanwhile, do not mention any of this to Jarasandha. I know he is your friend and brother-in-law but he could be involved in this conspiracy.

  Come back soon my son. Your motherland and your old father both need you here.

  While I know you will come as soon as you can, do send me a brief reply about your arrival through Rabhu, the messenger I sent along with this letter. I will accordingly let Airawat know when he can welcome back his commander-in-chief at Madhuvan.

  Your father,

  Ugrasena

  Jarasandha’s eyes gleamed with a strange fusion of anger and elation as he finished reading the letter. He was furious and perturbed that Ugrasena knew about the Dark Lord’s plan, and that Narada was already on his way to caution other kingdoms. But he was delighted that he had confiscated this letter before it fell into Kansa’s hands. The implications of Kansa reading this letter were not lost on Jarasandha and he shuddered at the consequences. Not only would it have pitted Kansa against him, but reading this letter would have ensured his immediate departure for Madhuvan. The fact that the letter would have also brought a reunion between the father and son was an additional concern. Jarasandha couldn’t afford any of this.

  I have to destroy this letter, he decided. It was too risky to have it lying around, waiting to be discovered by someone, especially Kansa. Jarasandha looked around the anukta kaksha. The fire place had not been lit in days. He debated whether to call one of the attendants to start the fire, and then decided against it. Jarasandha never ever asked for the fire to be lit unless it was extremely cold, and the weather right now didn’t warrant one. It would unnecessarily make the attendants suspicious. But then he didn’t need a full-fledged fire to burn the letter, he considered. Jarasandha walked towards his table, his eyes intent on the exquisitely shaped lamp kept there. The flame from the lamp would be sufficient to incinerate the letter completely. Jarasandha rolled it up like a pipe and held it at one end, careful not to burn his hand. For a brief moment, he faltered at the thought of destroying the one thing that could provide peace to Kansa’s tortured mind. But the thought of compromising the plan and risking everything that had been done till now made him steel his mind and ignore whatever scruples he may have had.

  Jarasandha watched the flame leap up from the lamp to consume the letter. In the blink of the eye, the note was reduced to cinders. The words from Ugrasena that could have rescued Kansa from certain disaster were lost forever; scattered as ashes, a sign of death and destruction that was bound to occur as a result of events beyond human control. Destiny was playing out its hand.

  Jarasandha found Kansa sitting by the lake adjacent to the palace. The prince of Madhuvan seemed oblivious to Jarasandha walking towards him. His eyes looked glazed as if he was lost in his own world, where reality and dreams had ceased to exist separately. He jumped with a start as Jarasandha touched him lightly on his shoulder. The fear in his eyes was palpable and he looked like a caged animal who knew he was trapped in a prison from where there was no escape. He stared, blinking rapidly at Jarasandha and his body seemed to relax a little as he saw who it was. ‘You startled me!’ he said softly, trying to sound natural, but his voice had lost its gentle quality. Somehow, it sounded strained and harsh.

  ‘I am sorry, brother; I didn’t mean to come up on you like that. I didn’t realize you were lost in your thoughts,’ Jarasandha said, trying to help Kansa in making his reaction appear normal.

  Kansa looked confused. ‘I wasn’t lost in my thoughts…’ he started to say, and then stopped. ‘I…uh…I don’t recall how I reached here. I remember waking up and then…nothing else…’ His voice trailed off, uncertainty and puzzlement evident on his handsome face.

  Jarasandha looked anxiously at his brother-in-law. He badly wanted to be the undisputed master of Mrityulok but not at the cost of anything happening to Kansa. He didn’t want his sisters hurt either; he knew they couldn’t live without him. Moreover, Kansa in this state wouldn’t be of any use to him to do what needed to be done in the days to come.

  ‘Brother, you need to get a grip on yourself,’ Jarasandha said in a gentle tone, hating himself for what he knew he was going to do next.

  ‘I am trying,’ Kansa said in a whisper. ‘But I don’t know what’s wrong with me.’ He hesitated, as if unsure whether to share his fears with Jarasandha, then continued. ‘I keep getting these dreams…more like nightmares, where I am being killed…by a child…born of Devki.’ He paused, a stricken look was on his face, ‘And every time the child kills me, Devki just stands there laughing…and thanking the child for killing me!’ Kansa’s voice broke as he choked on the last few words.

  The svapnasrsti used by the Dark Lord is beginning to affect his mind, Jarasandha thought to himself. ‘It’s nothing, brother. It’s just your mind playing games with you,’ he said aloud, trying to make light of the whole thing.

  ‘No it isn’t. It seems so real. When I get up, it feels like my chest is actually gushing out blood…where that child had pierced my torso with his sword. And Devki’s reaction…that, too, feels so real…as if it was happening right in front of me,’ Kansa shivered as a wave of nausea swept over him.

  Jarasandha held him by his shoulders. ‘Look, all this is because you are away from home. And…’ He paused, knowing he had to put this in the right manner for Kansa to take the bait. ‘…and also because lately you have been having issues with your father.’

  ‘What does that have anything to do with my nightmares?’ Kansa snapped.

  Jarasandha kept his voice calm. ‘You are feeling isolated because of the strain your relationship has undergone with your father. And you are away from home, so you probably feel that others in your family—like Devki—have also forsaken you.’ Jarasandha waited for this to sink into Kansa’s mind before continuing, ‘And this is affecting your psychology; making you feel as if those closest to you don’t care about you. Your nightmares are an exaggerated manifestation of the stress you are going through.’

  Kansa seemed to take in all of this. Then the same look of helplessness covered his features. ‘What do I do? What do I do, dammit? This is driving me insane!’ he uttered a muted scream, full of agony.

  Jarasandha knew Kansa might never be so vulnerable again. This was the time to strike. ‘I think you should write to Ugrasena. Let your father know how you feel. I think writing to him and opening your heart to him will make you feel better. And who knows…perhaps he will write back to you and things will be better between the two of you,’ Jarasandha said in as casual a voice as he could muster. It was imperative that Kansa did not suspect his intentions.

  ‘You think that will work? Kansa looked uncertain. ‘I don’t see how it will stop all the nightmares. And what if Father says something that will take us further apart?’

  Jarasandha shook his head impatiently. ‘What is there to lose in this, Kansa? I think it will help your mind to share what you are feeling with your father. At least try it. Anything is better than just sitting around like this!’ He spoke the last words with greater feeling than he had wanted to, worried that Kansa may decide against writing to Ugrasena. It was imperative that he did.

  After what seemed like an eternity but was no more than a few seconds, Kansa seemed to make up his mind. ‘Alright! I will send him a brief letter,’ he said. To his surprise, he suddenly felt a lot better, just having decided to do this. Maybe Jarasandha is right. Perhaps I will feel better after sharing my feelings with Father, he thought with a weak smile.

  Jarasandha was ecstatic. ‘Wonderful!’ he exclaimed. ‘Write a letter to him now, and I will personally make sure it reaches him before the day comes to an end tomorrow.’

  Kansa hugged Jarasandha with warmth. I am blessed to have you close to me, my friend, he thought to himself. He failed to notice the triumphant smile on Jarasandha’s face.

  ‘Get me Upadha,’ Jarasandha said curtly to his personal attendant. ‘And make it quick,’ he snapped.

  The attendant speculated why his mas
ter was so edgy today. But more than that, he wondered why Jarasandha had asked him to summon the foremost forger in Magadha, and that too in such haste.

  Pranaam Pitashree,

  I realize I have caused you much pain in the past few days. Perhaps, I was so shocked at what you told me about my birth that I found it difficult to accept that I was someone else’s son, and not yours as I always believed. And I lashed out at the only person whom I could in that instant—you!

  I want you to know that I may be a demon’s son by blood, but I will always remain your son by virtue. And no fact about my birth can ever change that.

  I have been a self-obsessed fool these past few days; and in being so I have gone far away from you when instead I should have been with you, taking care of you at this time. But I will change this!

  I intend to leave Magadha in a couple of days and return home to you and my family. In the meanwhile, I am sending this letter to you so you have my apologies and my love even before I reach Madhuvan.

  I would have liked to leave for home tomorrow itself but Jarasandha would feel slighted if I left in such haste.

  I feel as if I am alive again after an eternity. Pranaam,

  Your loving son,

  Kansa

  Jarasandha smiled smugly as he finished reading the letter Kansa had given him to send to Ugrasena. The plan had worked.

  He looked at the tall, unsmiling man standing courteously in his presence. Upadha was a forger with an almost miraculous talent for copying anything he set his mind to. He had been in Jarasandha’s service for several years, and it was he who had been given the onerous task of forging the documents for the asura assassins who were being smuggled into Mrityulok over the last several years. With the exception of the five asuras caught by the Madhuvan border security, there had been no other case of the forged documents having been discovered. The man was perfect for the job Jarasandha had in mind for him.

  Jarasandha handed Kansa’s letter to Upadha. ‘I want you to study this handwriting carefully. And then you will write a different letter—one that I will dictate to you!’ he said with a gleam in his eyes.

  Upadha bowed, his face expressionless. This was his job, and there was no one better than him. It would be done.

  Tamastamah Prabha

  hargava watched the unmoving figure of the man he had grown to respect and love over the past couple of centuries. Amartya Kalyanesu appeared lost to the world, his eyes closed in a state of deep meditation. The cloak that always covered his head and a large part of his burnt face had been taken off and placed neatly on the ground, next to him. It was important to take off the hood because the energy of Brahman harnessed from the universe would enter the body through the crown of the head, at a point known as the Sahasrara Chakra. The cloak would obstruct the flow of energy entering Amartya’s body. In most people, the energy flowing through the Chakra would be too feeble to be visible. In Amartya’s case, however, the flow of Brahman energy was so strong that it almost appeared as if a shower of blue light was pouring through the Sahasrara Chakra into his whole being. Amartya’s body seemed clothed with the blue radiance.

  He looks so peaceful sitting like this, Bhargava thought, sighing to himself. It is almost as if he was still in Swarglok, before Brahma cursed him. Bhargava clenched his teeth in anger as the memory of what had been done to Amartya flashed through his mind. It wasn’t just that Brahma had wrongly banished him from his world, almost killing him in the process. What was worse was that he had thrown him into the deepest pit of Pataal Lok—the seventh level, also called the Tamastamah Prabha. And someone like Amartya who had only practised goodness in his life hadn’t been prepared for what awaited him in that dreaded region.

  The horrible part was that for the first seven days that Amartya spent there, he had none of his brahmarishi powers. Brahma had used the most powerful weapon in Swarglok—the Brahmashira—on Amartya, which was four times more powerful than the dreaded Brahmastra. Used on any deva, it would have killed a demi-god instantly. On a brahmarishi like Amartya, its effect was that it took away from him all the power of Brahman energy for a period of seven days. Seven days that Amartya was totally powerless, left to survive in Tamastamah Prabha where no outsider could survive for more than a day.

  Bhargava shuddered as he recalled Amartya’s experience in the hell of hells for those seven days…

  Amartya felt himself falling from the skies, sucked into a vortex of air that was impossible to break out of. He found himself powerless as his body swirled in the whirlpool of energy created by the Brahmashira. Amartya felt himself being pulled through different planes of existence of the three worlds. And then just as he thought that he was trapped in the air bubble for eternity, he saw the landscape around him begin to change dramatically. There were no lakes or seas or oceans in this land. He realized with a jolt that the air bubble carrying him had entered Pataal Lok—the lowest of the three worlds. As he was carried further, he remembered from his earlier study of the three worlds, that Pataal Lok had seven levels—Ratanprabha, Sharkaraprabha, Valukaprabha, Pankkprabha, Dhoomprabha, Tamahprabha and Tamastamah Prabha, the seventh and most feared plane of existence. With the exception of Ratanprabha, none of the other six levels had any mountains or oceans or any manner of habitation. The width of each level of existence in Pataal Lok increased as he passed from one plane to the next. Tamastamah Prabha, the seventh and the final level within Pataal Lok, was the largest in breadth and the most barren—and the place where he realized he was headed.

  Amartya braced himself for the inevitable impact as the air bubble carrying him raced towards the surface of Tamastamah Prabha. When the impact came, surprisingly he felt nothing. The bubble had disappeared and he found himself lying on the ground. He looked around him. The surface of this region was covered with jagged stones, of a dirty brown hue. The land stretched for yojanas around him and he was unable to see any protrusion on the surface. There were no trees, no mountains and no water body as far as his eyes could see.

  Amartya suddenly felt exhausted and drained of energy. He hadn’t felt this way even once after his initiation as a brahmarishi and he wondered why his body felt bereft of the force of Bal and Atibal. Part of his mind was still reeling under the shock of Brahma’s sudden attack and his final words as he hurled the Brahmashira at him. What was it that Brahma had screamed in rage? Amartya tried to remember and his soul recoiled as he recalled the exact words Brahma had hurled at him before he unleashed the Brahmashira upon him: ‘A man who cannot respect his guru is not a man, and definitely not a brahmarishi…he is a demon of the lowest order and should be relegated to the lowest pit in hell where demons reside.’

  Amartya sagged to the ground, his mind tortured as the words of his former guru finally sank into his head. Brahma had called him a demon of the lowest order. Why? Try as he might, he couldn’t comprehend why Brahma had punished him in this way. It wasn’t he who had insulted his guru. It was the others. Yet Brahma had done this to him. The pain in his mind threatened to consume him. It was in that instant that Amartya became aware of the searing pain on the left side of his face. He brought the palm of his hand to touch the face, and recoiled in horror. His hand had gone through the side of his face and he could feel his fingers inside his mouth. The skin on that side had been burnt completely and what little remained was hanging limply on the side. Amartya choked, partly in shock at the ravaging of his face, but mostly owing to the agonizing pain that had taken hold of him. The pain grew in mounting proportions, and despite his struggling with it, he found himself falling to the ground in a swoon. He lost consciousness even before his head hit the stony ground with a thud.

  It had become dark when Amartya woke, still dizzy with the agonizing pain. He felt weak with hunger and the thirst was gnawing at him. Once again, he wondered why he was feeling the symptoms of a mortal, when the powers of Brahman bestowed on him should have protected him from symptoms of pain, hunger and thirst. He shook his head in pain and frustration, trying to d
ecide what to do next. It was then that he became aware that he was not alone. He couldn’t make out anyone else’s presence, but he was certain that there were others besides him, and not too far from where he stood.

  It was an eerie feeling; knowing that someone was there, and not being able to see them. Time passed slowly, too slowly. He stood where he was, not daring to move. A strange fear had him in its grip; he hadn’t felt anything like this since he was a child and afraid of the dark. As his eyes started to adjust to the growing darkness, he began to get a better sense of his surroundings. He still couldn’t see anyone distinctly, but he noticed some activity, a little ahead of where he was. He willed himself to walk towards the source of the movement. The forms grew more distinct in appearance as he reached closer. And then Amartya gasped in terror. More than a dozen serpents were feeding on something that looked like a corpse of an asura. The serpents lay so close together as they feasted on the cadaver that it was impossible to distinguish the snakes from each other. Amartya stared at the frenzied feeding, mesmerized by the sight. Suddenly, one of the serpents turned away from the corpse and looked at where he stood, watching them. Its eyes gleamed yellow and it seemed as if they were on fire. As if on cue, the other serpents too turned to stare in Amartya’s direction. Twelve pairs of eyes spitting fire bored into his mind. The snakes appeared almost human in the way they looked at him, their forked tongues flowing out of their mouth and curling in a smile of anticipation. They found the man standing in front of them more enticing than the corpse they were feeding on. Amartya watched in horror as the serpents moved away from the dead body and slithered towards him. When they were within spitting distance of him, they raised themselves on their tails till they were at eye level with him. He wanted to scream and run but the hypnotic eyes of the snakes held him rooted to the spot, and he found it impossible to tear his gaze away from them. Then all of a sudden, their gleaming eyes registered a fear of their own; and as suddenly as they had approached him, they vanished, gliding away into the darkness. Something had scared the serpents. Amartya did not know what, but he felt his heart beat gradually return to normal as he saw them retreat.