THE CURSE OF BRAHMA (59 page)

Mandki returned to her room and told the man she would do what he wanted. But first she would have to give Devki her dose of medicine for the night. She had done that some time back and the drug seemed to have taken effect. Devki slept soundly. Vasudev lay next to her, immobile as usual. Mandki approached Vasudev first. She touched his head, and carefully picked out a strand of his hair. Then tracing the strand to where it emanated from his scalp, she gave a sudden tug and it came out in her hand. Vasudev did not make any sound. He lay in the same manner he had since the day Kansa had dashed him to the ground. Mandki opened the sterilized packet the man had given to her. She placed the strand of hair, its root dangling at one end, inside the packet, taking care not to let her fingers touch the inside. She repeated the same procedure with Devki’s hair, a little more cautiously. Devki groaned briefly as the strand of hair was pulled out along with its root, but then she settled down. Mandki sighed in relief, as she placed Devki’s hair along with Vasudev’s in the same packet.

Sealing the packet carefully, she quickly left the room.

Narada gave Mandki a relieved smile as he took the packet from her. He peered inside, holding the packet close to his eyes, as he observed the roots of both strands of hair. The bulbs were intact, he noticed with satisfaction.

He smiled benevolently at Mandki. ‘Thank you, my child. The world will thank you someday for what you have done today!’

Leaving behind a confused Mandki, Narada hastened to return to Brahma. He had obtained what the Mahadev had instructed Brahma to get.

hargava sighed as he heard the Dark Lord tell him about Kansa. ‘I know I should be happy that Kansa is lending the final shape to our plans. I wonder why it is then that I feel no joy in this.’

Amartya Kalyanesu gave him a sad smile. ‘Perhaps because you are a good man, Bhargava. People like you don’t derive any personal joy from destroying a noble man’s soul, and the carnage that comes along with the death of that spirit.’

‘And you? Are you happy?’ Bhargava questioned.

‘My happiness or the lack of it is not significant. This is not a personal war against Brahma or Indra or even the devas. Maybe it was when I started off.’ Amartya paused, wondering how to explain himself. ‘I realized later that what Brahma did to me was because he felt he had the power to do it and get away with it. He did not just destroy a brahmarishi the day he unjustly punished me. He was making a point that anyone with power could do whatever they wanted, to anyone they wanted to. And he is one of the three supreme gods. If a god is allowed to get away with this, can you begin to imagine what other people would do with that kind of power?’

Amartya’s question hung in air as Bhargava tried to understand what he had just said. His thoughts were no different from Amartya, even though his motives might have been so. But there was a question that had been bothering him, and he knew if he didn’t ask Amartya now, he might never be able to ask him again.

‘Why blame Brahma alone? Wasn’t Indra equally to blame for what Brahma did to you?’

At the mention of Indra’s name, Amartya’s body visibly stiffened and Bhargava feared he had gone too far. They hadn’t discussed this in the last two hundred years. After Bhargava had taken Amartya away from the hell of Tamastamah Prabha, he had made discreet enquiries through his trusted sources in Swarglok and he had found that Indra had been the one primarily responsible for Amartya’s fate. He had shared it with Amartya and the brahmarishi had listened quietly. At the end of it, he had told Bhargava he did not want to discuss Indra’s role in the matter, ever again. But it was right after that discussion that Amartya had started making his plan of joining forces from Pataal Lok and Mrityulok to launch a full-scale war on Swarglok. Amartya had never said it in so many words, but Bhargava knew that it wasn’t just Brahma who was the target; Amartya intended to teach Indra and his devas a lesson too. And that suited Bhargava because Indra had been the one to ruthlessly kill his mother.

Amartya read Bhargava’s thoughts. ‘Yes, Indra definitely influenced Brahma’s actions. But Brahma alone was responsible for what he did. Both of them will have to answer for their deeds.’

‘Then why launch a war on all of Swarglok? Why not just teach Indra and Brahma a lesson?’ This was the one aspect of their plan that had always baffled Bhargava, even though he had done everything in his power to help Amartya.

Amartya sighed. Even Bhargava with all his knowledge showed limitations at times. ‘Brahma hurt me, Bhargava; and Indra caused you grievous injury. But if that was the only reason we were fighting them, we would be no better than any other person who sought to avenge themselves on their antagonist.’

Bhargava shook his head. ‘I still don’t understand,’ he said.

Amartya decided to elaborate. ‘This war is not just about Indra and Brahma, or what they did to you and me. This is about the extent of rot and corruption that has set inside every corner of the celestial world. Swarglok today abounds with every kind of rogue. The devas are drunk with power and under Indra’s command, they have lost all sense of purpose. The Mahadev is too busy with his penance to castigate them. And Lord Vishnu has shut himself in Svetadvipa, refusing to meet anyone. The other brahmarishis, angered at the behavior of the devas have left Swarglok and gone far away. Brahma, the God who embodies a storehouse of knowledge within himself, is unable to control his senses and his rage and allows the devas to manipulate him, as Indra did in my case.’

Amartya took a deep breath to calm himself, ‘Do you have any idea how many people’s lives have been wrecked by these same devas who were supposed to be their protectors? If the decay and vices they have caused are not stopped today, they will do the same thing with Swarglok and Mrityulok what the asuras did with Pataal Lok several thousand years ago. No Bhargava—make no mistake—this war is not about you or me. This war is about all those people who have been betrayed by their gods; those same gods who have not lifted a finger to stop the devas from their vile actions. You and I are going to force the gods to step in and do something about it. That is the only reason this war is being fought. And if it means that noble men like Kansa have to be sacrificed at the altar of this revolution, then it will be so.’

Bhargava looked at the animated face of Amartya Kalyanesu, and he wondered how he had ever thought that this man—this brahmarishi—could ever wage a war against Swarglok merely for his own revenge.

One thing bothered him though. ‘What about your promise to the asura council that you will infuse them with the power of Brahman? Won’t they misuse the potent force it wields?’ he queried.

Amartya laughed. ‘It is impossible to infuse a person with the force of Brahman within whom the dark forces of Aghasamarthan already exist. The two forces are contrary in nature. No one who willfully wields Aghasamarthan can ever absorb the pure energy of Brahman.’

Bhargava was puzzled. ‘Then why did you tell the council that you would teach them to use Brahman energy?’

‘One of the things Brahma taught me well was that you deal with people in the same currency that they understand. The asura council and King Vrushaparva would never have allowed you to train the assassins on their land unless they knew there was something in it for them. And what could have been a more powerful attraction than being able to wield the force of Brahman.’

Bhargava couldn’t help admiring Amartya’s astuteness. He had understood the psyche of the asura king and his council members to perfection. ‘But what about these asura assassins we are training? Aren’t we adding to the rot the devas have already accumulated in the world?

Amartya Kalyanesu smiled at the man who had befriended him during the most difficult part of his life. When he spoke his voice was gentle. ‘Each of the asura assassins is doing what their destiny wills them to do Bhargava. They have set the wheels of fate in motion but they will all die, like Ghora and Ugra already have. Some of them will die for money and some for the sake of the great men who trained them. But all of them will find salvation at the end of the road.’

‘And Jarasandha! What about him? You made a commitment to him that you will make him lord of Mrityulok for all the help he is extending to us in our plan?’ Bhargava queried, his face betraying his sadness at the fate that awaited the men who had trained under the mighty Ugra.

‘Jarasandha will never be lord of Mrityulok. He will gain victory over a large part of the mortal world. But his end will come through the same man who will give Kansa his salvation.’

Bhargava’s face went pale. ‘Who is this man who will be able to destroy warriors such as Kansa and Jarasandha?’

Amartya looked at his friend, but his mind was elsewhere, hovering over a land called Svetadvipa where he knew the slayer of evil would originate.

’I don’t know his name yet. The universe is silent on that as of now. But I do know that he is on his way.’

he gazed at the mountain in front of her. Try as she might, she couldn’t stretch her head far back enough to see the top. It seemed that only the base of the mountain was visible to the eye. It rose so high that the greater part of the mountain was enveloped in dense stretches of fog. No one knew how far up it went, and there weren’t too many people who had ever reached the top of Kailas, the abode of the God of Gods; of Shiva—the destroyer of evil and the most feared God in all the three worlds.