THE CURSE OF BRAHMA Page 27

  Jarasandha gasped. Kansa’s eyes glittered bright green and his face shone with an energy that was not mortal in nature. The fire of Aghasamarthan burned in his eyes. He has already turned over to the dark side, Jarasandha muttered to himself. He handed the letter he was holding back to Kansa and hastened to leave the room. He wanted to ensure his sisters left immediately for Madhuvan. And after that, he was keen to know what his spies had found out about Rabhu, the messenger from Madhuvan who no longer wanted payment for betraying Ugrasena.

  Rabhu heaved a sigh of relief as he saw the two spies trailing him pass within inches of where he was hiding. He had realized he was being followed when he had seen the same pair of men behind him even as he kept changing direction. And any doubts he may have had about being trailed were dispelled as he saw them increase their pace whenever it appeared that he was moving too far away from them.

  Rabhu had decided to share with Kansa his fear that the first letter Ugrasena had sent for him might not have been given to him, and that Jarasandha had probably forged the letter that he had carried back to Ugrasena. Rabhu still wasn’t certain why the Magadha king had done what he had, but he was sure that it didn’t augur well for Kansa or his father. Having left Jarasandha with Ugrasena’s second letter, Rabhu had gone to the aaram kaksh (waiting room) meant for the messengers, just as he had told Jarasandha he would. But he did not linger there. Instead, he had slipped away in search for Kansa, hoping he could meet him before Jarasandha became aware of his absence. It had been the end of the dvitiya prahaar when he had left the waiting room. It was now well into the tritiya prahaar and he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Jarasandha would have figured he was up to something. The presence of the spies tailing him confirmed any doubts he may have had in this matter.

  Rabhu had seen Kansa ride out on his horse a few minutes after Jarasandha had left with the letter in his hand. The prince had seemed like a changed man as he rode his horse savagely out of the palace gates. Rabhu had tried to follow him on his own horse but Kansa had been too fast for him to keep pace with.

  Finally, Rabhu had left his horse in a corral outside a crowded tavern, where he knew his horse would be inconspicuous among the scores of others tied there by the visitors to the pub. He preferred to be on foot while he waited for Kansa to return to the palace. It was on the way back that he had noticed the spies tailing him and he had been forced to move in an opposite direction in order to lose them.

  Now it was getting late, and Rabhu knew there was no way he could go back to the aaram kaksh and explain his absence to Jarasandha. He would somehow need to meet Kansa and then leave for Madhuvan surreptitiously. There was no doubt in his mind what Jarasandha would do to him once he found him. He looked around him to make sure he had eluded his pursuers. Then he started walking back in the direction of the palace.

  Jarasandha watched with satisfaction as he saw his sisters leave for Madhuvan with an armed escort to keep them safe on the way. He had no doubt that Devki would return with Asti and Prapti as soon as she received the message that her brother was unwell. Asti had raised her eyebrows in surprise when Jarasandha had told them to convey the message of Kansa’s illness to Devki and get her to Magadha. And Prapti had wanted to meet Kansa before they left. But both the sisters were too much in awe of Jarasandha to argue with him. His instructions had been explicit and firm—they were to leave immediately without meeting Kansa and they would return with Devki.

  Now that one part of his plan was set in motion, Jarasandha turned his attention to the other task at hand. He wanted to know what the spies had found out about Rabhu. The scoundrel had not been in the aaram kaksh as he had instructed him to be, and Jarasandha knew Rabhu was up to something. The spies would tell him what it was. But first he had to meet Chanur and Banasura, who were leaving for their kingdoms today.

  Banasura and Chanur waited patiently while Jarasandha shared with them the transformation of Kansa. There was silence as Jarasandha finished his story. He had carefully refrained from mentioning the role the Dark Lord had played in the entire episode, and had only told the two warriors what had transpired between Kansa and Ugrasena. Jarasandha was one of those people who did not believe in his right hand knowing what his left hand was up to. He didn’t want to share any information with these two warriors that could help them break out of the Dark Lord’s power, or be used against him in the future.

  Finally Chanur spoke. ‘Ugrasena cannot just disinherit Kansa and make Vasudev his successor. The prince of Madhuvan won’t take this injustice lying down.’

  Jarasandha weighed his words carefully before responding. ‘Kansa is not thinking about the throne of Madhuvan just now. He is deeply troubled and he feels betrayed from all sides. Ugrasena has alienated his son and his letter has planted the seeds of distrust between Vasudev and Kansa. The only person he trusts at the moment is Devki. I have sent my sisters to get her here, and they should return with her in the next three days.’

  Banasura appeared puzzled. ‘But why have you asked Devki to come here at this time? I thought the idea was to turn Kansa against Ugrasena and Vasudev so he could ally with us. Now that he is finally coming around to our side, wouldn’t a meeting with Devki be a risk?’

  Chanur nodded his head. ‘I must say I agree with Banasura. I don’t understand this either. There is a possibility that Devki might be able to convince Kansa that all of this is just a big misunderstanding between her father and brother. What if Kansa agrees to return to Madhuvan with her and everything you have done so far is rendered futile?’

  Jarasandha had anticipated this risk when he had suggested to Kansa that he meet Devki once. But it had been a calculated one. Jarasandha knew there was a high probability that Kansa might himself, at a later date, want to meet Devki. And it could be at a place where Ugrasena too might be present. Or worse, by then, Kansa might have had enough time to reflect on Ugrasena’s letter and wonder why his father had sent him such a harsh letter in response to his own. Right now, Kansa was too emotionally strung to even begin to think rationally. More importantly, there was another angle that neither Banasura nor Chanur had understood yet. But then, they hadn’t been students of buddhir brahmi (psychology) as Jarasandha had been from a very young age.

  ‘Who do you think is the most important person in a young woman’s life?’ Jarasandha asked softly. While he was looking at Chanur, the question was meant for Banasura too. The two warriors looked at each other in perplexity.

  Chanur was the first to answer, ‘It depends,’ he said. ‘It could be either the mother or the father, depending on who the woman is closer to.’

  ‘Or it could be a sister or a brother,’ Banasura added.

  ‘Quite right,’ Jarasandha nodded patiently. ‘Actually, both of you are correct…but only up to a point. The family is definitely the most important thing in a woman’s life.’ He stared at both the warriors sitting in front of him and chose his next question carefully. ‘But what happens when the same woman falls desperately in love with a man? Will the family still remain the most important factor in her life?’

  Chanur, as usual, was the first to get his drift. He said excitedly, ‘No, the man she loves gradually gains more significance in her life than even her family.’

  Jarasandha’s eyes gleamed, ‘And when that woman has been in love with a man ever since she was a child, how much more important would that relationship be for her?’ He left his question hanging.

  ‘Like Devki and Vasudev,’ Banasura joined in the excitement. ‘She has been in love with Vasudev since she was a child.’

  Jarasandha got up from his seat. ‘Yes, when Kansa meets his sister, he is bound to share his reservations about Vasudev with Devki. In his current state of mind, he may even go further and say things about Vasudev that he normally wouldn’t. As much as she loves Kansa, I don’t believe she will allow even him to talk ill of the man she loves more than anything else in the world.’

  ‘And that is bound to create friction between brother and sis
ter!’ Banasura exclaimed softly.

  Jarasandha nodded. ‘Yes, enough friction perhaps for Kansa to feel that he has not just lost a father and a close friend, but the one woman he cares for the most…his sister Devki.’ He waited for his words to sink in before he continued. ‘Kansa is already close to losing his grip on his past. The break with Devki will finish off whatever ties hold him back from uncovering his intrinsic nature.’

  Banasura and Chanur were quiet. Jarasandha’s last words had struck something deep inside them; as if they were already going through what lay in store for Kansa. Like the prince of Madhuvan, they, too, had lost all connection with who they were in the past. Right now, they were only puppets dancing on a string manoeuvred by a powerful force in Pataal Lok.

  They were brought out of their reverie by something Jarasandha was saying. They looked blankly at the king of Magadha and he repeated his instructions to both of them. Jarasandha had just commanded them to unleash the asura assassins within their kingdoms. Both warriors nodded and left the room to go to their respective countries.

  Jarasandha stood alone, lost in his thoughts. The chaos on Mrityulok was about to begin. It would start from the Yavanas’ kingdom and from the land of Banpur. Over the next few days, Jarasandha’s generals, in charge of other vassal kingdoms would instruct the asura assassins hiding in those lands too to start the carnage. Madhuvan would be next as soon as Kansa came over to their side in totality. Jarasandha sighed as a wave of ecstasy swept over him. The day wasn’t far when the Dark Lord would take over the mortal world and make him—Jarasandha—the supreme lord of all lands in Mrityulok, including the great nation of Bharat.

  The two spies shook in fear as they waited for Jarasandha to explode in anger. They had lost Rabhu somehow. And they still had no idea where the messenger was. Jarasandha glared at both of them; but he was in a magnanimous mood today. This meant the spies could expect to be pardoned instead of being thrown into a dungeon for the rest of their miserable existence.

  ‘You say you saw him riding after Prince Kansa?’ Jarasandha asked one of the spies.

  ‘Yes, My Lord,’ The spy nodded vigorously as if by doing so he could somehow make up for the blunder of losing the messenger. ‘I saw Rabhu riding in hot pursuit of the prince. He even shouted above the din of the horses to try and attract the prince’s attention, but the Lord Kansa seemed caught up in his own prince’s thoughts as he rode and he did not hear Rabhu calling after him.’

  ‘Hmm,’ Jarasandha digested this new information. So that is what that scoundrel is planning…he wants to tell Kansa about the letters. His brow furrowed as he tried to control his rage at Rabhu’s intended betrayal. You will die a dog’s death, you rascal, he resolved to himself.

  The spy who had spoken earlier now looked at his king. ‘What are our orders, Lord? Should we try finding the messenger, in places we have not searched yet?’

  Jarasandha shook his head, ‘No, he will return here. We will wait for him to show his vile face, and then I will deal with him.’

  He motioned to the spy who had been quiet all this while, ‘You keep watch at the palace gate. He is bound to come from there. He probably knows what you look like so make sure he doesn’t see you.’

  To the other spy he said, ‘Send Upadha and Vikrant to me. Ask them to come here without delay.’

  Both spies left and Jarasandha laughed unrestrainedly, alone in the room. Rabhu had unwittingly given him the opportunity to make Kansa’s meeting with Devki even more volatile. The fact that Rabhu would die before that happened was incidental…but necessary.

  Jarasandha sighed contentedly as he sat down on the diwan. Now if only Upadha and Vikrant do what needs to be done, he thought.

  Upadha used part of his angavastram to wipe the copious sweat flowing down his face. He had spent the last hora (one hour) in the royal archives section, trying to look for any communication from Bateshwar to Magadha. He had systematically looked through the previous two years of correspondence between the two kingdoms. There were hundreds of letters from Surasena and from the prime minister of Bateshwar. However, there was no letter from Vasudev. It was imperative that he get his hands on any form of correspondence from the prince of Bateshwar or he would not be able to do what Jarasandha had asked of him. Upadha’s desperation grew with every passing minute. His hands moved faster and his eyes fervently scanned the mounds of correspondence for any sign of a letter from Vasudev.

  Just when he was ready to give up, he noticed a letter from the prime minister of Bateshwar. It was written and signed by him, but was copied to the king and the prince too. At the end of the communication, both Surasena and Vasudev had signed their names.

  Upadha peered closely at the letter. By Shiva! What a stroke of luck, he chuckled to himself. While Surasena had merely signed his name as an acknowledgement of having read the letter, Vasudev had not just put his signature to the letter; he had also added a brief comment for Jarasandha. Upadha looked at it closely. It was a scribble and there were scant words written there to be able to analyse Vasudev’s writing pattern with perfection. But it would be enough for someone with Upadha’s enormous capabilities.

  Upadha gave a satisfied smile. The work Jarasandha had entrusted him with would be done!

  Vikrant was perched on top of a tree that overlooked the entrance to Kansa’s quarters within the royal palace of Magadha. From this vantage point, he could see not only the door leading up to Kansa’s accommodation; he also had a clear vision inside Kansa’s inner chambers. Jarasandha’s instructions had been clear. Vikrant was to wait for a man called Rabhu to appear. One of Jarasandha’s spies stood at a distance, camouflaged perfectly to all intents and purposes. It would have been impossible even for Vikrant to know where the spy was hiding if he hadn’t been told beforehand. The spy’s job was to identify Rabhu as and when the messenger made his entry. When that happened, the spy would give a prearranged signal to Vikrant.

  Vikrant had been told that Rabhu would make an attempt to enter Kansa’s quarters to meet the prince. His job was to ensure this did not happen. This part did not bother Vikrant much. He was a master archer, one of the most proficient in his art in Magadha. It was the other part that disturbed him; the part where he would need to shoot one of his deadly arrows at Kansa.

  It had been two horas since the master archer had climbed the tree. The branch where he sat was not big enough for a man of his size, and he was balanced precariously on his haunches. The impending darkness served to keep him hidden from prying eyes, but it also meant that the mosquitoes would come out in hordes any moment. The buzzing of the insects had already started and Vikrant felt the pinpricks all over his body as the mosquitoes fed freely on his motionless figure. He controlled the growing urge to swat away the insects. It was imperative that there were no signs of his presence on the tree. He tried to feel his limbs; he had lost nearly all sensation in his legs as the blood settled at concentrated spots in his lower body. The position was unbelievably uncomfortable and if it hadn’t been for his intense training, he might have yielded to the overpowering desire to adjust his body weight. Yet it was necessary that the growing cramps in his muscles didn’t interfere with the accuracy of his aim when he would be required to shoot at his target. Vikrant took a deep breath and with his eyes open, began to chant a mantra taught to him by his master. It served to calm his frayed nerves and miraculously made his muscles feel more relaxed. Gradually, the cramps appeared to leave his body and he felt reinvigorated. He moved his right hand lovingly over the mighty bow he held in the other hand. The action always made him feel more in control of any situation. He picked out an arrow from his quiver. The touch of the quiver felt different and uncomfortable; it was the first time he was using it to carry his arrows. He wondered why Jarasandha had insisted that he use this particular quiver instead of his own, but decided that the king must have had a valid motive for doing so.

  The mantra had heightened his senses significantly and his entire being was attuned to his surrou
ndings. He stiffened as he saw from the corner of his eye, the spy signalling to him. It meant Rabhu had entered the palace compound. He would be approaching Kansa’s quarters any moment now. Why can’t I see him? Vikrant thought in consternation, as he tried to scan every part of the compound from atop the tree. And then he saw the messenger. Rabhu had wrapped a dark blanket across his body, which made it difficult to sight him in the darkness of the night. But as he drew closer to the entrance to Kansa’s accommodation, the light from the night lamp made it easier to spot him.

  Vikrant picked up an arrow and placing it meticulously against the bow, he strung his lethal weapon. He knew his aim had to be unerringly perfect in order to produce the desired result. His shoulders ached with the strain of pulling the bow and holding it in that position, but he wasn’t ready to let loose the deadly arrow yet. Kansa wasn’t in sight.

  Rabhu eyed his surroundings cautiously as he gingerly approached the entrance to Kansa’s quarters. He knocked on the door, timidly at first and then with greater intensity as he realized the knocking might not be audible to Kansa inside.

  ‘Who is it?’ Vikrant could barely hear Kansa’s strained voice from where he was. The prince’s tone reflected the anguish he was going through.

  ‘A messenger, prince! I need to talk to you…it’s urgent.’ Spurred at the sound of Kansa’s voice, Rabhu had abandoned all caution by now, and his voice carried clearly in the openness of the compound.

  ‘Wait, I am opening the door,’ Kansa answered from inside; his voice perceptibly expressing his confusion at the words of the messenger.

  Rabhu’s face lit up as he heard this. His excitement was palpable as he waited for the door to open. Rabhu was not a very tall man, and the door’s length was almost one-and-a-half times his height. Almost adjacent to the door was a window, which was open. Kansa apparently did not believe in keeping the windows barred; not that there was any reason to. It was virtually impossible for any intruder to reach the palace compound without being caught by the security at the gate. The only reason Rabhu had been able to get this far without being caught was because Jarasandha had ordered the security detail to be deliberately slackened in order to allow Rabhu easy entry; unknown to Rabhu, a squad of security guards were hidden close by, waiting for the right moment to pounce on him.