THE CURSE OF BRAHMA Page 6

  ‘Did you?’ he shouted.

  Ugrasena shook his bowed head. ‘No…no I didn’t feel like murdering the child,’ he whispered pleadingly.

  Kansa knew his father was lying; lying for the first time in his life. But the lie didn’t concern him. Right then, he wanted to know something else of far greater significance.

  ‘Where is that child today? What did you do with him?’ He looked at Ugrasena, his eyes penetrating into the depths of his father’s soul.

  Ugrasena looked up to meet his son’s gaze, and his eyes were full of unshed tears. ‘The child…he stands before me, my son!’ he said softly.

  Kansa heard the words he couldn’t believe. And over the chaos caused by Ugrasena’s statement, he heard in his head, the sad and raucous laughter of the Dark Lord, followed by his whisper, Welcome to the truth, Kalanemi!

  The First Signs of Danger

  arada was possibly the most travelled demi-god. He made frequent visits to all the three worlds, including the dreaded regions within Pataal Lok. It was on one of his recent journeys to the netherworld that he had heard something that had made his feet turn cold with fear. He rushed back to Swarglok to share his findings with Brahma, his father and mentor.

  ‘Are you sure your information is correct?’ Brahma asked pointedly. He was aware of Narada’s habit of exaggerating things.

  ‘Father, I got this information straight from Devayam. He is Shukra’s right-hand man!’ Narada said petulantly, a little upset that Brahma was not taking him seriously.

  ‘Hmm…that makes it different,’ Brahma said softly. Shukra was the spiritual master of the asuras and a formidable personality. Even the mightiest asuras and the devas (demi-gods) held him in awe. Even though he was a mentor to the asuras, his morals were known to be unimpeachable, and on several occasions he had sided with the devas against the asuras when it came to matters of principle.

  ‘Exactly what did Shukra’s man tell you?’ asked Brahma, with a great deal more interest than he had displayed a moment ago.

  Narada’s face showed his relief as Brahma finally gave him some attention. ‘He told me that Shukra has been uncharacteristically worried since the past few weeks. And every time he has tried to ask him what is troubling him, Shukra has brushed his questions aside, deftly avoiding any direct answers.’

  ‘What could be bothering Shukra?’ Brahma said, more to himself than to Narada.

  ‘It seems there is a rumour that someone….some very powerful entity…is mobilizing all the asura forces. Every kind of asura…daityas, rakshasas, pisacas, danavas, bhutas, pretas, dasyus, kalakanjas, kalejas, khalins, nivata-kavacas, paulomas…all of them are being assembled under one banner in the form of the largest army ever seen!’ Narada’s voice trembled in fear as he narrated what he had heard.

  ‘That is impossible!’ Brahma roared. There is no asura left who wields the kind of power you are talking about. The only asuras who could have done this—Kalanemi, Ravana, Jalandhar—all of them are long dead.’

  Narada nodded his head vigorously to show he did not disagree with the old man on this point. ‘You are right, Father, but there is no doubt that an army the size of which has never been seen or heard of before is indeed being mobilized in Pataal Lok. And…’ Narada’s voice trailed off as he debated whether to share more with his father.

  Brahma’s eyes narrowed in impatience. ‘And? And what?’ he barked.

  ‘Uh…nothing,’ Narada stuttered, mentally kicking himself for having said more than he had wanted to. ‘Speak up!’ Brahma said impatiently. ‘What is it?’

  Narada sighed. He wasn’t sure if what he had heard was true, and Brahma would have his scalp if he were wrong. But he couldn’t keep the information away from him now that he had said as much.

  ‘I picked up something else when I was roaming in the netherworld. It may not be anything important, but Devayam also mentioned that he had heard some senior members of the asura council saying that very soon they would be introduced to the potent power of Brahman…by being initiated into the powerful codes of Bal and Atibal…’ Narada’s voice trailed off as he looked at Brahma with concern.

  ‘Father what is it? What’s wrong?’

  Brahma looked stricken, as though he had seen some terrible vision.

  ‘That…is not possible,’ he whispered, his expression resembling the face of a man who has seen or heard something impossible. ‘It cannot be. Even Shukra doesn’t wield the power of Brahman. It is known only to the Saptarishis….and…’

  ‘And to you, and the Lords Shiva and Vishnu,’ Narada automatically completed Brahma’s sentence, echoing his father’s thoughts. He looked questioningly at the man he feared and respected more than he loved. Brahma seemed to have become aware of Narada’s searching gaze and made a herculean effort to calm his frayed nerves.

  ‘Leave me alone, my son,’ he said quietly. ‘I need to meditate for a bit.’

  Narada stared at his father with a feeling of growing unease. Brahma was definitely hiding something, but Narada was hesitant to question him. The last time he had gone against Brahma’s wishes, he had been banished from Swarglok and had had to spend several years in Mrityulok as a mortal. He did not want to risk deportation, yet again. He bowed low and turning around, left the room.

  Brahma looked at the retreating figure of his son, not really seeing him. His mind was fixed somewhere else—at a point in time more than two hundred years ago.

  The six boys were laughing at him, none of them even in their teens yet. And still they dared to mock him. Brahma’s face contorted in anger. He looked around to see if their father was around to castigate them for their behaviour, but remembered that he was away for an extended period of meditation in some faraway land. It was then that Bahma noticed the boys’ eldest brother standing at a distance. He was a handsome young man, wise beyond his years and Brahma’s favourite pupil; the only person in the universe whom Brahma himself had initiated into the secrets of Bal and Atibal, the two codes key to using the potent force of Brahman. He had thought a hundred times before sharing the secrets of Brahman with the young man, but even Shiva and Vishnu had seemed to agree that the youth deserved the knowledge. Now he was the only one apart from the Saptrishis (the seven sages) and the Trinity (Vishnu, Shiva and Brahma), who knew how to control the universal force of Brahman. And yet he stood looking at his brothers making fun of his guru and did nothing! Nothing at all! Brahma’s fury was terrible to behold as he glared at the young man. His curse was quick and the youth paled as he heard Brahma mutter the shocking punishment that would banish him forever from the place he had always thought of as home. He did not know what struck him till the Brahmashira hit him with the power of a hundred thunderbolts, hurling him down…and down…to the swirling depths of what was the lowest and seventh level within Pataal Lok. Brahma regretted what he had done in the instant that he pronounced his curse and let loose his most powerful weapon upon his dearest student. But it was too late. A few shreds of burnt flesh lying on the ground were the only evidence that the youth had once existed.

  ‘It can’t be you!’ Brahma whispered, his face still reflecting the agony of having done what he had done that day.

  It is I, mocked a raucous voice, erupting suddenly in the middle of Brahma’s head. While the harsh voice was almost indistinguishable from the soft and mellifluous tone of his former student, Brahma recognized it in an instant. It took him another second to realize that the voice was coming from inside his head. Someone was using cosmic telepathy with him. Someone who knew how to wield the universal powers of Brahman, along with all the associated abilities that came from the knowledge of Bal and Atibal, including cosmic telepathy.

  ‘It…it is impossible!’ he shuddered. ‘You were…’ Brahma couldn’t complete his sentence.

  Dead? hissed the voice in anger. Yes, you almost killed me. But I survived. Not as I was earlier…before you cursed me and damned my soul for eternity into the netherworld; I changed…I had to change. You saw to that! But
I’m stronger today, Gurudev…stronger than I ever was.

  Brahma controlled his tears as he heard the voice of the student he had loved the most once upon a time; more perhaps than his own sons. It filled him with happiness that the youth had survived. He had berated himself every day for the past two hundred years over what he had allowed his temper to do to the boy; believing all these years that he had killed him. It was a miracle that the boy had survived.

  ‘I am happy that you are alive, vats’ he said softly, using the traditional term elders employed for people younger to them.

  No you are not! the voice was agitated now, reflecting the mental state of the person. You are trying to manipulate me like you did in the past; and when I am off my guard you will try and destroy me again, finishing what you started two centuries back. But this time, I am not going to be caught so easily, Gurudev. This time I will be ready, and it will be I who shall strike. The only difference is I will tell you before I do.

  Brahma knew his former student was making a point; that Brahma had caught him off guard when he had unleashed the Brahmashira upon him. The former shishya was telling Brahma that when he would strike he would let his guru know that he was striking. The teacher in him was outraged at the disrespect shown to him. But the compassionate part within him knew that he had been unfair to the boy and it made him more tolerant.

  ‘Come back, my child,’ Brahma spoke with all the warmth that he could muster. ‘You shall be granted all your lost glory…I promise you!’

  Lost glory? Lost GLORY? the voice screamed in silent rage. You imagine that I want any glory! I want justice. For having my soul damned for eternity into the depths of despair. For becoming what you made me…a demon! There was a moment of silence, and then the voice was back again. No, Gurudev! I shall return you the favour you granted me. I shall convert the entire Mrityulok into a wasteland of demons, and then… I shall come for you…

  The voice in Brahma’s head disappeared as suddenly as it had come. Brahma felt exhausted, as if the mere presence of the voice in his head had depleted him of all his vital energy. He willed his mind to dwell on the purifying aspect of the force of Brahman. Among its various powers, the force of Brahman was capable of lending its wielders instant energy and vital force, allowing them to continue for months without food or water or sleep. As soon as he focused on this vital force, Brahma felt his body grow stronger and his mind revitalized with renewed energy source.

  He knew what he had to do, and it wasn’t going to be easy. He commanded himself to take all thoughts of compassion for his former student out of his mind. The boy was no longer what he had been. Pain and the desire for revenge had made him evil. Evil had to be destroyed, and there was only one person who could be relied upon for it. He would need to seek out that person.

  Vasudev exchanged a quick glance with Devki. Both of them were worried about Kansa. The handsome and affable prince of Madhuvan seemed to have crawled into a shell of his own, and looked nothing like his old self. Kansa had shared the conversation he had had with Ugrasena with Devki and Vasudev. Both of them were taken aback, but more than anything else, they were concerned for Kansa’s emotional well being. He sat there with them as a broken man.

  ‘Bhaiyya, don’t think this way,’ Devki implored Kansa, calling him by the term she reserved only for her eldest brother. ‘Father loves you…more than he loves any of us.’

  Kansa looked through Devki. His eyes were glassy with untold pain. ‘All my life I thought Mother hated me for some reason. But I was content knowing that father loved me more than anything else.’

  He paused to look at Devki. ‘Did you know Father, too, wanted me to be killed when I was a just a child?’ His voice broke into a sob as he finally voiced the thought he had been hiding in his mind since the meeting with Ugrasena the previous day.

  ‘That’s not true, Bhaiyya. Father would never have wanted that,’ Devki said emphatically. She felt Kansa’s pain but even then, she couldn’t bear to hear anything against the king who was her surrogate father.

  Kansa smiled sadly at his sister. Her trust in his father—I can’t even think of him as my father any more, he thought—was laudable.

  ‘He did, Devki…he did. I looked into his eyes when I asked him if he too wanted me to be killed in my childhood. He lowered his eyes when he answered. And I knew that he was lying.’

  Vasudev looked on helplessly as he saw one of his closest friends battling with his inner demons. But he knew it wasn’t right for him to interfere. Kansa would have to figure this out for himself. The most important thing for a child was to know that his parents loved him unconditionally. It was the chain that bound a child’s mind to its roots. To have found out that he was hated by his own mother and that the man he had looked upon as his father all these years was not his father at all, and had perhaps, even sought to have him killed at some point in his life, could destroy a man’s belief in everything, including himself. Vasudev could understand what Kansa was going through. It didn’t matter that Ugrasena had got over his initial hatred for the child and loved him as his own. The fact remained that he had once thought of killing him. Kansa had to decide for himself which side of the coin he was willing to give more importance to—that his father wanted him killed once upon a time, or that he had loved Kansa more than any of his other children. Vasudev hoped Kansa would give more importance to the latter; but he had no way of knowing what was going on in his friend’s mind.

  Devki was persistent, ‘Even if I agree that he wanted to harm you as a child, hasn’t he done enough after that, Bhaiyya? Hasn’t he loved you more than any of us?’

  ‘He couldn’t look into my eyes Devki….even after all these years, he couldn’t see into my eyes and tell me that he had wanted to kill me back then.’ Kansa’s voice broke as he continued. ‘After all these years, knowing how much Mother hated me, he couldn’t tell me the truth even now!’

  ‘He could…’ Devki started to say something but was interrupted by Kansa.

  ‘When Mother died, he still didn’t tell me the truth. You know he didn’t allow me to touch her feet even as she lay on her bed, her praana having left her body forever…I always wondered why he wouldn’t allow me to touch her then…I know now…he thought I would defile her body with my touch just as that Gandharva had done so many years ago.’

  Devki’s eyes filled with tears as she felt Kansa’s pain. She hugged him tight, as Kansa’s body shivered with a barely controlled emotional outburst.

  ‘I love you, Bhaiyya. Vasudev, too, loves you like a brother,’ Devki sobbed, her eyes mirroring Kansa’s inner turmoil and pain. She continued to hold Kansa close to her, till she felt his breathing grow calmer and regular.

  ‘My friend, you can’t change the past,’ Vasudev said gently, coming close to Kansa and Devki, becoming part of their circle of grief. ‘But you can shape your future. And I will be with you all through.’

  Kansa looked at his friend, next to his sister. He saw unadulterated affection on Vasudev’s face. Devki’s expression also showed her deep love for him. He drew strength from them and composed himself.

  ‘I have only the two of you now. I love Father, but I can never be the same with him again. Being with him brings back too many memories of the past…recollections that I want to forget forever.’

  He put one arm around Devki’s shoulders and with his other hand he clasped Vasudev’s arm. ‘The two of you are the only reason I can carry on after what has happened,’ he said quietly.

  Suddenly he was reminded of the dream he had had a few days back—Devki’s son stabbing him…Devki stopping Kansa from hurting the child…Devki laughing and thanking the child after he had killed Kansa—and his expression grew hard and grim.

  ‘If the two of you forsake me too, I won’t be able to handle it…you understand?’ he whispered, his voice a confused mix of pleading and threatening.

  Vasudev and Devki nodded mutely, both their expressions reflecting their confusion at what Kansa had just said and
the manner in which he had said it. But they put it down to his current state of mind.

  ‘I will never abandon you, Bhaiyya,’ Devki said, putting her palm against Kansa’s face. ‘Nor shall I, Kansa,’ Vasudev said looking his friend in the eye.

  The three people, bound together by destiny, embraced even as the skies thundered with a promise of untold events. Kansa felt a tremour go up his spine as he heard the clap of thunder and the crack of lightning. Only he knew that the thunder would be followed by a raucous laugh. He was not wrong; but this time, it was the sound of an enraged shriek carried on the back of the thunder that raised the hair on the nape of his neck. Kansa trembled involuntarily as he felt the heat of anger in the sound that only he seemed to hear over the past few days.

  The Pisaca wriggled his body in excitement. The massive tentacles that served as his head shook of their own accord and were fearful to look at. The bonara and the kalakanja stood to one side, silently awaiting the latest instructions that the Dark Lord had sent through the pisaca. Both were miffed that the Dark Lord had chosen the pisaca to lead the attack on the mortal woman Devki. They were accomplished assassins with several celebrated kills to their credit. The pisaca had been newly inducted into the clan of the Zataka Upanshughataks (the acclaimed hundred assassins) of Pataal Lok. The bonara and kalakanja were taken aback that despite being amongst the most dreaded upanshughataks (assassins), they had been commanded to follow this new entrant to the clan. But they knew better than to go against the wishes of the Dark Lord.

  ‘The Lord commands that Devki should die tomorrow,’ hissed the pisaca. His voice betrayed the thrill he felt at the prospect of a kill. The tiny orifices that served as his mouth in each of the eight tentacles, dripped with putrid-smelling saliva.

  ‘He wishes to see her decapitated head as evidence of her death, by end of the day, tomorrow,’ he continued, filled with the importance of the task given to him by the most feared being in Pataal Lok.