THE CURSE OF BRAHMA (46 page)

In the same instant, Kansa’s malevolent half left him and his softer mortal side took over. He sagged visibly at Devki’s words. The green light that shone in his eyes dimmed and his brown eyes stared at her in an embodiment of pain and rejection.

‘Yes, I know you would kill me, Devki…I know that now.’ He took one long look at her. ‘I just didn’t think you too would consider me a monster, like your father.’

Devki felt like holding him and telling him how sorry she was. She wanted him to know that she loved him and all of this was just a mistake, a horrendous mistake. But words failed her as she saw Kansa metamorphose into his malevolent self again. He felt it too, and he shouted at her in one final attempt to fight the monster growing within him and threatening to take over him completely, ‘Go…go away from here right now. Leave
now
!’

Devki didn’t want to leave him in this state, with so much unsaid. But the urgency in his voice told her she needed to get out of the room and away from Magadha as soon as she could. Perhaps, there would be another occasion when they could sit and talk, like they used to as children.

She ran out of the room, just as Kansa’s body was wracked with the shock of multiple convulsions. The force of the seizures virtually lifted him off his feet and threw him on the floor, his entire body engulfed with an agony such as he had never known.

As his conscious mind switched off, he heard the gentle voice of the Dark Lord guiding his sub-conscious mind. Kansa felt himself being propelled through a never-ending dark tunnel, the sides of which were lighted, reflecting the several past lives he had undergone. As he neared the end of the tunnel, he reached a stage in his past lives that the Dark Lord particularly wanted him to see. In front of him, he observed a vast field. Assembled there was the largest horde of warriors he had ever seen. Every kind of asura was visible, and at their centre, stood a powerfully built warrior. Everyone seemed to be in awe of this demon they called Ravana. And then there was a sound like the stamping of a huge army, and every asura present grew silent and went down on their knees. The one they called Ravana also looked in the direction of the commotion. It wasn’t an army marching towards them. It was an asura whose size dwarfed everything else in the vicinity. As he approached closer, Ravana, too, kneeled in front of him and bowed his head. The gigantic asura touched Ravana’s head with the palm of his hands and lifted him up to hug him. He was Ravana’s maternal uncle, the king of demons, the one they called Kalanemi!

Kansa regained consciousness with a jolt. The Dark Lord had taken him back to his past life and allowed him to see who he was. Kansa had changed forever; metamorphosed into something that even he didn’t fully fathom at the moment. His mortal past as a noble warrior now lay submerged somewhere deep within his consciousness. In its place remained the towering frame of the greatest demon king the world had ever known—Kalanemi!

But more important than seeing his several past lives, the Dark Lord had also shown Kansa the face of the person who was destined to kill him in this birth. The face had belonged to a beautiful boy, no more than fifteen years old, and the eighth offspring of Devki and Vasudev.

Kansa smiled. He knew what he had to do.

t is done!’ the Dark Lord said quietly. ‘Kansa has been turned.’ He stood in the centre of Bhargava’s room. There was no trace of joy or satisfaction on his face at Kansa’s metamorphosis of Kansa; just the barely perceptible indications of being resigned to what had happened.

‘What are my instructions?’ Bhargava murmured. His face, too mirrored Amartya’s lack of pleasure at Kansa’s transformation.

Amartya seemed to mull over his thoughts before responding. Then appearing to make up his mind, he addressed Bhargava firmly, ‘Send a messenger to the king of Magadha. Ask Jarasandha to spread the word to the asura assassins hiding in every part of Mrityulok. The time has come for them to start the work they have been trained for.’

Bhargava looked astounded, ‘Already? Isn’t it too early Amartya?’

Amartya shook his head, ‘No. It is time!’ he said, taking a deep breath. ‘Narada has already spoken with various kings and while most of them have listened to him with disbelief, some of them have started building task forces to flush out the assassins. It’s a matter of time before the countries content to sit on the fence today begin establishing similar groups to seek out our men. We need to strike before that happens.’

Bhargava nodded. He knew, looking at Amartya, that there was more. He didn’t have to wait long, before the Dark Lord shocked him yet again.

‘Ask Ugra to speed up the training for the last batch of assassins. I want all ten thousand of them trained and ready to be sent into Mrityulok in the next three saptakas (three weeks). Now that Kansa is on our side, a significant part of these men will make their entry through the Madhuvan border. The remaining can enter Mrityulok through Magadha.’

‘Kansa may have come on our side Amartya, but Ugrasena is still the king of Madhuvan. How do you think thousands of our men are going to enter his land without Ugrasena taking any action? Bhargava sounded agitated at what he sensed was a big loop hole in Amartya’s strategy.

Amartya was staring at Bhargava but his mind seemed elsewhere. The latter realized that Amartya was focusing his energies on seeing what the future heralded. Eventually, Amartya seemed to come back to himself and his eyes blazed with the power of Brahman, ‘Ugrasena will not be king for long. His cub has transformed into a lion and it will not be long before Kansa will return home to claim Madhuvan!’

Bhargava began to say something, when Amartya held up his hand to stop him. The light of Brahman that blazed in his eyes now enveloped his whole being and filled the room with its blue iridescence. Amartya’s eyes were fixed on the door that led to Bhargava’s chambers. He raised his finger towards the door and it opened on its own, revealing the figure of a man eavesdropping on their conversation. The man stared into the blazing eyes of the Dark Lord and he trembled in fear. Then, as he turned his head to look at Bhargava, he gasped, his face reflecting an expression of complete bewilderment.

‘Shukra Acharya!’ the man exclaimed in disbelief.

Bhargava looked calmly at his right-hand man. While Amartya and he had tried to conceal his involvement in their plan right from the beginning, Bhargava had always known that some day, his participation would be discovered. Apart from Amartya, Ugra and his assassins, no one knew Bhargava’s true identity, but now his closest aide knew too.

‘Devayam!’ Bhargava spoke softly to the man who still stood staring at him in bafflement. ‘Come in and close the door behind you, my friend.’

Devayam looked at the man he had worked for and admired for the past several years. Shukra Acharya, the best-known philosopher and ethnobotanist in all of Pataal Lok; the man whom even the Asura king Vrushaparva and his council members looked up to when they needed advice on matters of politics, administration and occasionally even on war.
This is the same man who had the moral fibre to admonish asura kings when he thought they were wrong. And now, he takes the side of the most feared man in Pataal Lok—the Dark Lord himself!
Devayam’s expression told Bhargava how confounded the young man was.

Amartya was able to read Devayam’s thoughts with ease, but he did not want to intervene. He knew this was something Bhargava had to handle himself.

Bhargava—the man known in the three worlds as Shukra Acharya—smiled at Devayam, in an attempt to make him comfortable. He patted the diwan and motioned for Devayam to take a seat next to him. ‘You look disturbed, Devayam,’ he said gently. ‘Tell me what is bothering you.’

Devayam struggled to form words. The feeling of incredulity had gradually given way to a slowly simmering anger that threatened to erupt any moment. It was only his respect for the greatest philosopher in Pataal Lok that kept his temper in check. He had avoided looking in the direction of Amartya all this while. Now he glared at Bhargava, and pointing towards the Dark Lord, he said accusingly, ‘How can you connive with a man like this against your own people?’

Bhargava’s face reflected his considerable surprise at the question. ‘Connive against my people? What do you mean by that?’

‘I heard your conversation. You plan to send assassins into Mrityulok,’ he stared rebelliously at Bhargava. ‘There have been rumours that an army is being assembled in Pataal Lok. King Vrushaparva and his council members have maintained total silence on this. I thought you knew something about it and that’s why you have been perturbed the past few days. I mentioned this to Narada when he was here a few days back. I didn’t know then that you not only knew about the army being assembled, you are probably the one behind it all, along with this man they call the Dark Lord!’ He finished in rage, pointing a finger at Amartya.

Bhargava struggled to remain calm. Devayam’s disrespect for Amartya was gnawing at him. ‘There is no army being assembled…yet! There might be at some time in the future. It’s difficult to say right now,’ he paused. ‘But how does this make me connive against my own people, as you said just now?’

Bhargava’s calm tone had its effect on Devayam. He grew visibly less antagonistic. ‘Acharya, if we raise an army such as is being rumoured, the only purpose of such a force would be to attack one of the other two worlds. In either case, people are going to die in vain. The last time Pataal Lok waged a war under Ravana against Mrityulok, millions of our people died just to satisfy the ego of one man.’

‘I just told you, we are not raising an army right now. If we do, it will be because that will be the only option available to us.’ Bhargava looked benevolently at his aide. ‘You know I would never encourage unnecessary bloodshed, Devayam.’

Devayam struggled with his feelings. He found it impossible to question the man who had taught him everything he knew till now. But there were other questions that he had to have an answer to. He bowed his head. This time, his tone was much softer. ‘What about the assassins being smuggled into the mortal world, acharya? How do you explain that? Won’t that action beget a much larger reaction from Mrityulok? What do we gain by doing this?’ His voice reflected his anguish at the grievous possibilities and more so, the role his mentor was playing in it.