THE CURSE OF BRAHMA (37 page)

‘Get me Upadha,’ Jarasandha said curtly to his personal attendant. ‘And make it quick,’ he snapped.

The attendant speculated why his master was so edgy today. But more than that, he wondered why Jarasandha had asked him to summon the foremost forger in Magadha, and that too in such haste.

Pranaam Pitashree
,

I realize I have caused you much pain in the past few days. Perhaps, I was so shocked at what you told me about my birth that I found it difficult to accept that I was someone else’s son, and not yours as I always believed. And I lashed out at the only person whom I could in that instant—you!

I want you to know that I may be a demon’s son by blood, but I will always remain your son by virtue. And no fact about my birth can ever change that
.

I have been a self-obsessed fool these past few days; and in being so I have gone far away from you when instead I should have been with you, taking care of you at this time. But I will change this!

I intend to leave Magadha in a couple of days and return home to you and my family. In the meanwhile, I am sending this letter to you so you have my apologies and my love even before I reach Madhuvan
.

I would have liked to leave for home tomorrow itself but Jarasandha would feel slighted if I left in such haste
.

I feel as if I am alive again after an eternity
.
Pranaam
,

Your loving son,
Kansa

Jarasandha smiled smugly as he finished reading the letter Kansa had given him to send to Ugrasena. The plan had worked.

He looked at the tall, unsmiling man standing courteously in his presence. Upadha was a forger with an almost miraculous talent for copying anything he set his mind to. He had been in Jarasandha’s service for several years, and it was he who had been given the onerous task of forging the documents for the asura assassins who were being smuggled into Mrityulok over the last several years. With the exception of the five asuras caught by the Madhuvan border security, there had been no other case of the forged documents having been discovered. The man was perfect for the job Jarasandha had in mind for him.

Jarasandha handed Kansa’s letter to Upadha. ‘I want you to study this handwriting carefully. And then you will write a different letter—one that I will dictate to you!’ he said with a gleam in his eyes.

Upadha bowed, his face expressionless. This was his job, and there was no one better than him. It would be done.

hargava watched the unmoving figure of the man he had grown to respect and love over the past couple of centuries. Amartya Kalyanesu appeared lost to the world, his eyes closed in a state of deep meditation. The cloak that always covered his head and a large part of his burnt face had been taken off and placed neatly on the ground, next to him. It was important to take off the hood because the energy of Brahman harnessed from the universe would enter the body through the crown of the head, at a point known as the Sahasrara Chakra. The cloak would obstruct the flow of energy entering Amartya’s body. In most people, the energy flowing through the Chakra would be too feeble to be visible. In Amartya’s case, however, the flow of Brahman energy was so strong that it almost appeared as if a shower of blue light was pouring through the Sahasrara Chakra into his whole being. Amartya’s body seemed clothed with the blue radiance.

He looks so peaceful sitting like this
, Bhargava thought, sighing to himself.
It is almost as if he was still in Swarglok, before Brahma cursed him
. Bhargava clenched his teeth in anger as the memory of what had been done to Amartya flashed through his mind. It wasn’t just that Brahma had wrongly banished him from his world, almost killing him in the process. What was worse was that he had thrown him into the deepest pit of Pataal Lok—the seventh level, also called the Tamastamah Prabha. And someone like Amartya who had only practised goodness in his life hadn’t been prepared for what awaited him in that dreaded region.

The horrible part was that for the first seven days that Amartya spent there, he had none of his brahmarishi powers. Brahma had used the most powerful weapon in Swarglok—the Brahmashira—on Amartya, which was four times more powerful than the dreaded Brahmastra. Used on any deva, it would have killed a demi-god instantly. On a brahmarishi like Amartya, its effect was that it took away from him all the power of Brahman energy for a period of seven days. Seven days that Amartya was totally powerless, left to survive in Tamastamah Prabha where no outsider could survive for more than a day.

Bhargava shuddered as he recalled Amartya’s experience in the hell of hells for those seven days…

Amartya felt himself falling from the skies, sucked into a vortex of air that was impossible to break out of. He found himself powerless as his body swirled in the whirlpool of energy created by the Brahmashira. Amartya felt himself being pulled through different planes of existence of the three worlds. And then just as he thought that he was trapped in the air bubble for eternity, he saw the landscape around him begin to change dramatically. There were no lakes or seas or oceans in this land. He realized with a jolt that the air bubble carrying him had entered Pataal Lok—the lowest of the three worlds. As he was carried further, he remembered from his earlier study of the three worlds, that Pataal Lok had seven levels—Ratanprabha, Sharkaraprabha, Valukaprabha, Pankkprabha, Dhoomprabha, Tamahprabha and Tamastamah Prabha, the seventh and most feared plane of existence. With the exception of Ratanprabha, none of the other six levels had any mountains or oceans or any manner of habitation. The width of each level of existence in Pataal Lok increased as he passed from one plane to the next. Tamastamah Prabha, the seventh and the final level within Pataal Lok, was the largest in breadth and the most barren—and the place where he realized he was headed.

Amartya braced himself for the inevitable impact as the air bubble carrying him raced towards the surface of Tamastamah Prabha. When the impact came, surprisingly he felt nothing. The bubble had disappeared and he found himself lying on the ground. He looked around him. The surface of this region was covered with jagged stones, of a dirty brown hue. The land stretched for yojanas around him and he was unable to see any protrusion on the surface. There were no trees, no mountains and no water body as far as his eyes could see.

Amartya suddenly felt exhausted and drained of energy. He hadn’t felt this way even once after his initiation as a brahmarishi and he wondered why his body felt bereft of the force of Bal and Atibal. Part of his mind was still reeling under the shock of Brahma’s sudden attack and his final words as he hurled the Brahmashira at him. What was it that Brahma had screamed in rage? Amartya tried to remember and his soul recoiled as he recalled the exact words Brahma had hurled at him before he unleashed the Brahmashira upon him: ‘A man who cannot respect his guru is not a man, and definitely not a brahmarishi…he is a demon of the lowest order and should be relegated to the lowest pit in hell where demons reside.’

Amartya sagged to the ground, his mind tortured as the words of his former guru finally sank into his head. Brahma had called him a demon of the lowest order. Why? Try as he might, he couldn’t comprehend why Brahma had punished him in this way. It wasn’t he who had insulted his guru. It was the others. Yet Brahma had done this to him. The pain in his mind threatened to consume him. It was in that instant that Amartya became aware of the searing pain on the left side of his face. He brought the palm of his hand to touch the face, and recoiled in horror. His hand had gone through the side of his face and he could feel his fingers inside his mouth. The skin on that side had been burnt completely and what little remained was hanging limply on the side. Amartya choked, partly in shock at the ravaging of his face, but mostly owing to the agonizing pain that had taken hold of him. The pain grew in mounting proportions, and despite his struggling with it, he found himself falling to the ground in a swoon. He lost consciousness even before his head hit the stony ground with a thud.

It had become dark when Amartya woke, still dizzy with the agonizing pain. He felt weak with hunger and the thirst was gnawing at him. Once again, he wondered why he was feeling the symptoms of a mortal, when the powers of Brahman bestowed on him should have protected him from symptoms of pain, hunger and thirst. He shook his head in pain and frustration, trying to decide what to do next. It was then that he became aware that he was not alone. He couldn’t make out anyone else’s presence, but he was certain that there were others besides him, and not too far from where he stood.

It was an eerie feeling; knowing that someone was there, and not being able to see them. Time passed slowly, too slowly. He stood where he was, not daring to move. A strange fear had him in its grip; he hadn’t felt anything like this since he was a child and afraid of the dark. As his eyes started to adjust to the growing darkness, he began to get a better sense of his surroundings. He still couldn’t see anyone distinctly, but he noticed some activity, a little ahead of where he was. He willed himself to walk towards the source of the movement. The forms grew more distinct in appearance as he reached closer. And then Amartya gasped in terror. More than a dozen serpents were feeding on something that looked like a corpse of an asura. The serpents lay so close together as they feasted on the cadaver that it was impossible to distinguish the snakes from each other. Amartya stared at the frenzied feeding, mesmerized by the sight. Suddenly, one of the serpents turned away from the corpse and looked at where he stood, watching them. Its eyes gleamed yellow and it seemed as if they were on fire. As if on cue, the other serpents too turned to stare in Amartya’s direction. Twelve pairs of eyes spitting fire bored into his mind. The snakes appeared almost human in the way they looked at him, their forked tongues flowing out of their mouth and curling in a smile of anticipation. They found the man standing in front of them more enticing than the corpse they were feeding on. Amartya watched in horror as the serpents moved away from the dead body and slithered towards him. When they were within spitting distance of him, they raised themselves on their tails till they were at eye level with him. He wanted to scream and run but the hypnotic eyes of the snakes held him rooted to the spot, and he found it impossible to tear his gaze away from them. Then all of a sudden, their gleaming eyes registered a fear of their own; and as suddenly as they had approached him, they vanished, gliding away into the darkness. Something had scared the serpents. Amartya did not know what, but he felt his heart beat gradually return to normal as he saw them retreat.