THE CURSE OF BRAHMA Page 30

  ‘Kavyamata watched with relief as she saw the two men’s retreating back. She looked up at the setting sun and hoped her husband would be back before the men returned with others. She had exhausted herself by using the mantra on so many people at the same time, and she was aware she might not be able to hold back too many more men if they returned.

  ‘A few of the older students waited at the gate while Kavyamata went in to meditate. She hoped to recover some of her lost vitality through her powers of concentration. She told her students to call for her if the men returned while she was in meditation.

  ‘As it grew progressively darker, the children keeping watch at the gate shivered with the cold, and with the fear of the men returning with more warriors. Gradually, they heard the sound of approaching horses. They strained their eyes to see who it was. As the horses drew near, they recognized the two men who had run away earlier. They were accompanied by a third man, wearing a shining white armour. His hair was light brown and it fluttered in the wind. As he rode on his large stallion with his sword held high, he appeared to the students the most dashing and dangerous man they had ever seen in their lives. Mesmerized by the sight of the armoured warrior, they watched in awe as he reached the ashram gate. Before any of them could think of running to warn Kavyamata of the men’s arrival, the warrior’s sword swung in the air and loped off the heads of three of the oldest students stationed at the gate. As the rest of the students watched in horror, the other two men began to systematically hack each of them to death. The annihilation of the shishyas stationed outside was complete and the three warriors had not yet uttered a word.

  ‘Finally, the man in white armour addressed his two companions and his voice was heavy with rage. “Find every man, woman and child in the ashram and make them taste the metal of your sword. I will deal with the witch who dared to attack my men and gave shelter to the asura children.”

  ‘The two armed men combed every inch of the ashram and did a professional job of ruthlessly killing all the children they found. Not a single child was spared; and a special fate awaited the asura children. Their hacked heads were placed on top of the walls of the ashram, as a message for anyone else who dared to offer refuge to an asura, or obstructed the way of the warriors.

  ‘Meanwhile, the third warrior, the one in the white armour, had gone in search of Kavyamata. She was not in the main ashram building, and had gone to meditate at a slight distance, near the stream running behind the hermitage. The warrior gazed at her, sitting serenely by the stream, lost in concentration. For a moment, his mind seemed to waver. Then his face set in a grim expression. His lips curled in an enigmatic smile and with one mighty swoop of his sword, he sliced off her head.’

  Devayam stared at Bhargava, as he came to the end of the story. The acharya was looking strangely at him. Without warning, he asked, ‘Tell me now Devayam—did you see any evil in this story?’

  Devayam answered almost instantaneously, ‘Great evil, acharya! The men who killed those children and the defenseless gurumata were evil incarnate.’

  ‘Hmm,’ Bhargava nodded, ‘and if I were to tell you that this was not the first time these men had committed such dastardly deeds? That they had killed other innocent people before this; what would you say should be done to such people?’

  This time, Devayam took longer to reply. When he answered, his voice had dropped to a whisper, ‘Such men have no business being alive, acharya. They should be hunted down and destroyed!’ Bhargava countered, ‘But would that not be evil, Devayam? To kill other men?’

  Devayam was vehement. ‘How can it be evil to kill such men? They deserve to die!’

  Bhargava smiled. ‘You have now understood what Brahmarishi Amartya Kalyanesu said to you sometime back.’ He paused as he saw the beginnings of comprehension dawn on Devayam. ‘To destroy great evil, it may sometimes be justified to commit a lesser one.’

  Devayam was silent as he digested this. Then a thought struck him. ‘This warrior, acharya…the one in the white armour. Who was he?’

  Bhargava gritted his teeth as he got up to leave. ‘He goes by the name of Indra.’

  Devayam gasped. He saw Bhargava preparing to leave for his evening meditation. Amartya Kalyanesu sat quietly, watching the exchange between Shukra Acharya and his aide.

  ‘Shukra Acharya!’ Devayam called after Bhargava’s retreating figure. ‘Who was that woman in the story—the one called Kavyamata?’

  ‘She was my mother,’ Bhargava choked as he walked out of the door.

  Battle at Bhairava Van

  asudev stopped to survey the hazardous terrain ahead of them. The rough pathway was strewn with boulders of varying sizes and the trail they were on suddenly branched into a multitude of narrow byways. It was anyone’s guess which of these was the right one and led to the assassin’s lair. Vasudev knew each of these byways could be a death trap, and he could well be leading his men to their end.

  The platoon of men that Airawat had gathered together for the task force had grown to a full brigade of five hundred hardened soldiers under Vasudev’s command. It had taken a month to select the men and train them to achieve the unbelievable standard they had reached before Vasudev finally announced them ready to battle the asura assassins. He had started the training as soon as he had reached Madhuvan from Bateshwar. Airawat had been awed at the intense training regime Vasudev set for his men. Yet the Prince maintained an easy camaraderie with all of them and it was evident to Airawat that he had the loyalty of each man present there.

  Two days back, one of Ugrasena’s trusted spies had brought news that he had sighted a few suspicious-looking men at Hastinapur. The spy had been keeping watch on their activities for several days and he had finally become convinced that they were assassins in hiding. While they worked within the city, they did not dwell there like the other workers and traders. This in itself was odd. To add to that, they looked vastly different from the other traders and carried themselves with the air of people trained to fight. Finally, one day the spy decided to follow the men to find out where they stayed. He trailed them at a distance, but just when he thought they were reaching their destination, his horse stopped and refused to move further. The spy realized the horse had badly hurt its hoof, and it would be pointless to follow the men on foot. He walked ahead for some distance and came to a point where the road branched into several directions. Rather than follow them further and risk being exposed, the spy had returned to Hastinapur and requested an urgent audience with Dhritarashtra, who was acting as regent of the powerful country in the absence of his younger brother, Pandu, who was currently undergoing penance in the forests of Chaitraratha, along with his two wives. Under the sage advice of his vrddhah (grandfather), Bheeshma, Dhritarashtra handed the spy a communique for Vasudev, giving him permission to enter Hastinapur with his task force.

  Vasudev and his men had ridden hard and covered the distance of twenty yojanas from Madhuvan in two days. They had now reached the point where the spy had lost the trail of the men he had been following. Vasudev turned around as Airawat rode ahead with the spy to join him. The rest of the men were halted at a distance waiting for instructions from Vasudev.

  ‘Is this the exact location you lost the men, Aniruddha?’ Vasudev looked at the spy.

  ‘Yes, My Lord,’ Aniruddha answered, amazed that Vasudev knew his name. He had no idea that Vasudev could have rattled off the name of each of his five hundred men with ease.

  Vasudev glanced at Airawat. ‘What do you suggest? Each of these paths could be a trap leading the men to their deaths.’

  Airawat nodded in agreement. Like Vasudev, he too had made a quick assessment of the situation, which included analysing each of the byways. He had a question for the spy: ‘How many men did you say you followed Aniruddha?’

  Aniruddha considered for a while. ‘I think there must have been about thirty in all, sire.’

  Airawat nodded, his expression thoughtful. ‘What are the chances that there could be other men…men tha
t you may not be aware of, but are companions of the people you followed that day?’

  Aniruddha understood where Airawat was going with his questions. He shook his head ruefully. ‘I have no idea, sire. I never saw those men interact with anyone else at Hastinapur. But there is always the chance that there could be other groups like theirs functioning in other parts of the city. And…and all these groups may be dwelling in the same place.’

  ‘In which case it could be both, an advantage as well as a terrible drawback,’ Vasudev intervened. Both men stared at him.

  ‘If there are several groups holed up together somewhere up there,’ Vasudev said, pointing in the direction of the byways, ‘then this would be a brilliant opportunity to catch them all at one go.’ He paused, before continuing in a quiet voice, ‘If, however, their numbers are too large, then not only will they have the advantage of knowing this terrain, they could also possibly outnumber us by a large margin.’

  There was a lull in the conversation as each of the men debated the situation in their own mind. Vasudev was the first to break the uncomfortable silence. ‘We have one major advantage though. They don’t know we are coming for them.’ He grinned at the others and they felt their confidence returning.

  ‘This road branches off into five lanes, My Lord,’ Airawat said cogitatively. ‘We don’t know where they lead to and whether they even link up at a common point. If we were to split our men across each of these lanes, we may end up spreading ourselves too thin.’

  ‘What do you suggest?’ Vasudev asked his second-in-command.

  Airawat nudged his horse to move forward and signalled Vasudev and Aniruddha to follow him. He stopped and dismounted as they came to the point where the path branched off into different directions. The other two followed suit. Airawat beamed with satisfaction as he pointed to two of the bylanes. The grass grew heavy on these routes and there were no indications of any footprints, of man or horse.

  ‘These don’t seem to have been used in a long time, My Lord,’ Airawat said with a pleased look. ‘That leaves the other three bylanes. I suggest we split up into three groups and see if the roads meet up ahead.’

  Vasudev nodded. ‘I will take one of the paths. You take another one Airawat.’ He paused, ‘Who do you think should lead the third route?’ ‘Tantra!’ Airawat’s answer was swift.

  Vasudev nodded in approval. Airawat had chosen wisely. Tantra was a veteran and he was the oldest in the task force. But despite his age, he could move more nimbly and swiftly than any of the other men. More importantly, he had a clear head on his shoulders and was not rattled easily. In the absence of Vasudev and Airawat, the men would be safe under his command.

  ‘I will take a company of a hundred men with me. You and Tantra take a battalion of two hundred each,’ Vasudev said, looking at Airawat.

  Airawat looked distinctly uncomfortable with Vasudev’s decision of splitting the numbers. He didn’t want the prince to go into enemy territory with the smallest force. ‘I think Tantra and you should go in with a battalion, My Lord. I will take a hundred men with me.’

  Vasudev shook his head in mock exasperation. ‘When will you learn to take orders, Airawat?’ he joked. ‘My decision stands. I will go in with a hundred men. Speak to Tantra and get the men ready. I will join you in a moment.’ He dismissed the two men and continued to stare contemplatively at the lane he had chosen to take.

  Airawat watched as his scout kneeled down and put his ear to the ground. He had not heard anything, but the scout’s keen senses had apparently picked up something. He stayed with his ear pressed to the ground, till he was certain he had the right information.

  ‘Sixty men, sire! And by the sound of it, it looks like they are having a meal,’ the scout said with conviction as he raised himself from the ground.

  Airawat was impressed with the man’s abilities. I wouldn’t have been able to figure out how many men there are, leave alone what they are doing, he thought to himself with a smile.

  ‘How far do you suppose they are from here?’ he asked the scout.

  ‘A quarter of a yojana, sire,’ the scout said with a certainty born out of years of experience in reconnoitering.

  ‘Hmm,’ Airawat mumbled. Then he gave the order to his men. ‘Move at a slow trot. Let’s hope the scoundrels are too busy eating to have posted a lookout. When we are within shouting distance of their camp, we will make the charge at full gallop.’

  The men nodded wordlessly, their faces agog with excitement at finally encountering the enemy they had been training to destroy for the past few months. Their horses gradually fell in formation as they followed their commander. Airawat had got a special shield made that was attached firmly to the elbow of his left arm. Since the bonara had cut off his hand at the wrist, this was the only way he could carry the shield and protect an assault to his body.

  As they approached closer to the assassin’s camp, they could hear the raucous banter of the asuras. Airawat was amazed that they hadn’t posted any sentinel. But he realized they probably didn’t expect anyone to venture into these bylanes. An ordinary person would have got lost in the maze of twists and turns they had encountered since they had split up with the other two groups. It was only their scout’s skill that had ensured they stayed on track.

  Airawat gave the signal for his men to stop. He unsheathed his sword and held it high, pointed in the direction of the asura camp. His men followed his example and took out their weapons. Then, as Airawat gave the signal to charge, they let out a blood-curdling roar that seemed to shake the earth. The horses caught the frenzy of their riders and charged with the full might of their breed. Sounds of ‘Har Har Mahadev!’ rent the air as the men followed their cavalry commander into their first encounter with the assassins sent by Pataal Lok.

  The men in the asura camp did not stand a chance as the Madhuvan battalion came at them like a battering ram smashing through everything in its way. Airawat loped off the head of an asura who attempted to assault him with a mace. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw another one hurl a spear in his direction. Airawat barely had time to bring up his shield to ward off the attack. If he had been a second late, the spear would have sliced through his neck. Before the gigantic asura had time to launch a second attack, Airawat goaded the horse in his direction, and leaped off the mount to engage the demon on ground. The asura took out a curved blade from his scabbard and in a series of swift thrusts, forced Airawat to fall back. His opponent was faster and more adept than any warrior Airawat had fought till date, and for a brief moment, Airawat felt the initial symptoms of fear as the asura continued to push him back. In the aftermath of losing his hand in the fight against the bonara, Airawat’s self-belief in his abilities had been shaken worse than even Mandki knew. And at this juncture, the absence of confidence was costing him heavily. All around him, there were lusty screams of men killing each other and being killed. His sudden irrational fear left him temporarily paralyzed and his antagonist had him pinned against a tree. The asura suddenly brought down his sword with all his might and the force of the blow was such that it cracked Airawat’s shield in half, which then clattered to the ground. Airawat was now completely vulnerable, with only his sword to protect him. The asura gave him a malevolent smile and moved in for the fatal blow.

  At that moment, there was a chorus of ‘Har Har Mahadev!’ from the Madhuvan battalion. The familiar scream of the Madhuvan war cry shook Airawat from his self-induced stupor and served to calm his frayed nerves. He recovered in time to parry a deadly thrust from the asura, who stumbled with the force of his own blow. Before he had time to recover his stance, the tip of Airawat’s sword had pierced through his thick neck, jutting out through the other side. The asura’s eyes rolled over in pain and disbelief, and he tottered to the ground. Airawat watched his body hit the ground in the same instant that he became aware of the deathly silence around him. He turned around and surveyed the camp site. Not a single assassin had survived. Their torn and bloodied bodies lay slumped on the
ground. The entire camp had been decimated.

  One of the soldiers approached Airawat, his face betraying his anxiety. ‘Sire, your…your hand!’ he said hesitantly. The stitches on Airawat’s damaged arm had opened up where the shield had been wrenched off by the asura’s blow. Blood flowed profusely from the open wound. Airawat compelled himself to ignore the pain. He clenched his teeth to prevent himself from screaming in agony as the soldier made a tourniquet under the arm to stem the flow of blood.

  ‘How many of our men are dead?’ he asked wearily.

  ‘Ten of ours, sire! We took all of them though,’ the soldier replied proudly.

  Airawat shut his eyes momentarily. The loss of his men hung heavy on his shoulders.

  ‘Make arrangements for each of these ten men to be taken back to Madhuvan,’ he instructed the soldier, his eyes ablaze with a rare fury.

  The soldier saluted smartly, touching his right hand to the left of his chest. ‘And what do we do with this place, sire?’ he asked tentatively, motioning towards the camp site.

  ‘Burn it down….all of it!’ Airawat whispered in muted rage as he walked away from the site.

  Vasudev tried to shake off the feeling of foreboding. They had been on the move for a while now and his men were getting restless for action. The unnatural silence around them did not do anything to improve matters. The path they had taken had soon opened into the terrifying Bhairava Van (forest), and there was no way of being certain that they were on the right course. The jungle route was hard and rocky and the men and their horses were not used to this terrain. To make the situation worse, the rocky surface made it nearly impossible to track footprints. It was only the incredible skill of their tracker which gave them some comfort that they were not moving in circles.