Tenth Avatar

by Kanchan Joshi

  Let me figure out what I want to say, rather than just throwing the kitchen sink at Neel. Krish thought of calling home. Mom and Dad won’t understand what I’m going through. Plus, I don’t want to freak them out, he thought. He missed his home and family.

  He lay in bed thinking about his name, his family, and his childhood. Krish’s mother was a therapist at a military hospital. She had a philosophical outlook to life. Krish remembered an incident around the time when he was getting ready to graduate from high school. He was to continue his education at the university level at the tender age of thirteen. He knew he had a lot of potential and was hungry to learn more and work with scholars. He was also apprehensive about being, by far, the youngest pupil in his classes.

  It had been a lazy Sunday afternoon. Krish was sipping hot tea in the backyard with his mom. She had added cardamom, ginger powder, and some mint to the tea. He still remembered the delightful aroma. His father was reading the newspaper. The hot summer had ended, monsoon rain had poured down, and it was almost spring time. Beautiful orange roses, yellow marigolds, white jasmine, and red hibiscus were blooming. There was a breeze blowing that afternoon. Sensing favorable conditions with plenty of food supply, the birds were getting ready to lay their eggs.

  Krish and his mom enjoyed sipping tea while strolling in the backyard. On the branch of a small tree, a humming bird had built her nest. The eggs had hatched. It was amazing how the two baby birds and their mother fit in that tiny nest. But, it was getting crowded, and it would soon be time for the babies to leave. They were hesitant about their first flight. As Krish walked passed the nest, the baby birds felt threatened and finally had no choice but to take the leap to protect themselves from what appeared to be certain danger.

  “Sometimes, fear of the unknown is necessary to overcome the known fears of life,” his mom had quipped.

  Krish’s father belonged to the royal family of a princely state. His father and uncle didn’t talk about their father much. Krish felt that this was a ghost best left buried. However, there were interesting pieces of information still floating around. Krish’s grandfather was the Raja, or King, of a province. Krish remembered visiting the ruins of his ancestral palace and seeing a painting of his grandfather in the local museum. His grandfather’s stern, proud face and big mustache made an impression on young Krish. His grandfather was wealthy and powerful. However, with the decline of the Maratha Empire, and advent of the British, his influence was shrinking. Then one day, his kingdom was annexed, and he lost everything—most importantly his pride. Apparently, he became depressed after that and died. The official version of his death was that he died of a sudden heat stroke, but under hushed tones, it was speculated that the proud man took his own life.

  “Let us take him to the doctor, right now,” Krish remembered his mother saying once; she was worried sick about her son. Krish would spend hours writing strange equations that sprang into his mind. Sometimes, he would get frustrated if he got stuck at some point. And, at other times, sad if he couldn’t find a solution to an equation. His mother was worried that the depressive gene from his grandfather would affect her child as well. Her fears were strengthened when she caught Krish’s uncle taking some pills and staring blankly at the sky sometimes.

  Am I sick? Krish felt a cold chill down his spine as he considered the possibility that some dormant trait in his family was making an appearance in him. It could have been triggered by loneliness, being in a foreign country, adjusting to a new place, exacting standards of work, or the curse of brilliance. It was plausible. It was a scary thought, and a lingering shadow that hung over him.

  Krish rolled over to the other side of his bed. He tried to brush aside the possibility that he was sick by wondering why he was named Krishnanujam. His father had told him the story once. His father had been interested in mathematics, but couldn’t pursue it due to the sudden death of Krish’s grandfather. Krish’s father was fascinated by the life of the young mathematical prodigy, Ramanujan. Ramanujan read a book by G.S. Carr—a synopsis of elementary results in pure mathematics. It sparked his genius and he single-handedly figured out the collective discoveries of many scientists. Ramanujan came from a poor family and didn’t have enough money to buy paper to write all of his workings. Entire fields of math have been created based on some of the ideas he described. Obviously, my father had high expectations for me, Krish thought as he drifted to sleep.

  Krish got up from his nap. According to the clock on his wall, it was almost 4:30 pm. It was getting dark. He looked out his window and saw fog hanging over the hills. He felt confused. What the hell am I on? he wondered. He had a strong feeling in his gut that his ideas had a greater purpose, and that somehow, they would benefit this world enormously. In what way… I have no idea, he admitted, but he felt a calling, a drive to move ahead.

  His gut feelings about his new ideas and work were spot on. Completely unknown to Krish, greater troubles were brewing for him. He was attracting the attention of governments and other powerful organizations—some that were peaceful, and some that did not want peace at any cost. The work he published had opened doors for newer weapons that could cause severe destruction; weapons that held implications for the human civilization as a whole. All by himself, he had no way of seeing the bigger picture. All this mind-bending work at such a young age had pushed his mental faculties to the limits. He was venturing further toward instability.

  He looked at the street below and saw some activity at his neighbor’s home. Mike’s daughter was in the military. She was preparing to leave for duty, standing in her dad’s doorway. Krish watched as Mike’s shoulders dropped. His daughter, on the other hand, was standing in a relaxed posture. There was no hesitation in her movements. She appeared to have a clear mind. Unlike her father, and very much like her mother, she was a lanky, tall woman. She carried her heavy bag effortlessly. Hugging her parents, she walked to the cab and drove off, waving a confident goodbye. Krish liked the clarity of her thought and action. His own mind seemed to be the exact opposite.

  By now, the sun had set; darkness and fog had descended on the entire neighborhood. He thought of the greater purpose of his life and work, and the possibility of a diseased mind. Everything was unclear and muddy. He decided to follow his instincts. He badly wanted to develop new ideas in math and science and to find out the truth about this world we live in, but still don’t know much about. He calmly put on his jacket and headed to the lab.

  Chapter 3

  Raw Power

  ~~~~~~~

  Ancient India

  ~~~~~~~

  Raw power torments.

  It was spring time. Pampa Lake in the Kishkindha region in south India looked as beautiful as ever. It had thousands of lotuses floating on the surface. The crimson, white, purple, and blue lotus flowers were blooming slowly, one petal at a time, until the sun showered its rays on them and they were in full bloom. Fish swam freely in the water.

  Young Hanuman and his friends were swinging over tree branches and eating fruits. They threw half eaten fruits on the ground, dug up roots for food, jumped in the lake, and were frolicking merrily in the jungle. Their broad fingertips with wide nails, strong arms, long tails, and sturdy legs meant that climbing trees came naturally. Fear was unknown to them, especially in their own backyard.

  There was bamboo, sandalwood, sal, banyan, and numerous other trees. The pleasant aroma of mangoes, bananas, and various berries was everywhere. All the bees, birds, and forest animals were busy getting as much food as they needed. There was plenty of water, food, and sunshine for everyone. It was a plentiful and happy place. A squirrel turned its head to see what was going on and ran away to climb a tree. An owl kept an eye on everything from high up in the canopy. The Vanara lived peacefully with the other inhabitants of the jungle.

  Hanuman was the strongest among the Vanara youth. King Vali’s son, Angad, was very quick on his feet, and Hanuman had a difficult time catching him when they were playing tag.

 
“You are very quick, Angad, but not as fast as me,” said Hanuman playfully as he caught his tail.

  “You are older and bigger, Hanuman, but nothing this prince cannot handle,” said Angad proudly as he used his elbow to push Hanuman away.

  “Jai Vanara—victory to the king of Vanara,” shouted the kids in his group as they got ready for a mock battle with Hanuman’s group. The two groups, numbering in the hundreds, were throwing stones, tree branches, sticks, toy arrows, and bamboo spears at each other. There was an awful lot of din.

  “Hanuman, climb that tall tree to get a better view of the field and direct us,” advised one of the other kids. Hanuman liked that idea. He jumped up the tree in no time and had a nice view of the forest. He looked at the playing field below. His group was doing well in the game, and he was not needed there. Hanuman’s eyes scanned the rest of the forest. On the other side of the lake, he saw a man walking in an unusual way. He was curious to find out who this person was. Hanuman took a few leaps, landed on a tree and got closer to the strange looking man.

  It looks like the man can hardly walk. His bones are all bent, and he can barely stand, Hanuman thought as he got in a good vantage position in one of the trees. Is it safe for a man who can hardly walk to be here in the jungle by himself?

  The older man had a tuft of hair tied in a shikha- knot on his otherwise shaven head, a loin cloth around his waist, a stick for support, a wooden water jar with a handle, and a small cloth bag around his shoulder. He wore wooden sandals. The sacred thread that the brahmin-priests wore across their chest was noticeable. Both of his feet, hands, and knees—as well as chest and head—were bent. His gait was unusual.

  Hanuman was an intelligent boy. It is not appropriate to laugh at somebody’s deformities. He must be a brave man to be in the forest alone, he thought. Hanuman’s parents had taught him to be respectful of the priests. The priests knew the scriptures, some possessed special powers, and some were always in an agitated state at a higher energy level than most people. They could curse you if you showed disrespect. Most of them were eager to share great knowledge and wisdom when approached respectfully. Some of the priests were great teachers. As a result, it made practical sense to show respect.

  Hanuman jumped a good fifty feet from the tree and landed smoothly on his two feet. He landed on a sharp stone, but did not feel any pain. He slowly approached the bent-man. Hanuman folded his hands in the traditional ‘Namaste’ and bowed his head. As soon as he approached the man, he felt a sense of calm. He felt as if he was in the presence of someone extraordinary.

  The mighty Hanuman instinctively put his head at the frail man’s feet and was overpowered by emotion.

  “Who are you, oh great Rishi? Please identify yourself,” Hanuman asked in a shaky voice. The man looked at Hanuman with his piercing gaze, as if he was seeing something deep within the boy.

  “I am Ashtavakra. I am a Muni, a philosopher-scientist. Who are you, Vanara?” He asked in a commanding voice not fitting his frail body.

  Hanuman recovered from the spell of this man and answered, “I am the son of General Kesari.”

  Ashtavakra Muni smiled at Hanuman’s introduction. It seemed he knew more about Hanuman than Hanuman realized.

  “I am going to the great Agastya Muni’s hermitage,” the Muni said. Hanuman was drawn to this man with seemingly great intellect and power.

  “May I join you?” Hanuman asked.

  “As you wish,” the Muni replied. The two of them started walking through the jungle toward the hermitage. Hanuman walked ahead to remove tree branches, thorns, and pebbles from the path. “You seem like a curious kid. Ask me any questions that come to your mind. Do not worry, I will not be offended. I can see that you are a special child. This is your opportunity. Go ahead,” the Muni said as he warmed up to Hanuman.

  Hanuman felt reassured. He had so many questions and curiosities in his mind, but did not know whom to ask.

  “Firstly, why is your body bent?” Hanuman asked. He continued before an answer was given, “Do names have meanings? How come I don’t get hurt when I fall? How come Vanara are stronger than humans?” Hanuman paused. “This is just a start, I have many more,” he added with a twinkle.

  “Good thing I walk slowly, and we have some distance to cover, then,” the Muni said as they kept walking single file. “Uh, interesting questions. You may not see it, but your questions are inter-connected,” the Muni said. He carefully shifted his weight from one leg to the other to take a step. The Muni spoke in a calm voice, “You see, diet, nutrition, and the lineage of your parents play an important role in a child’s innate abilities. I was born bent in eight places probably because my father had bone problems. In addition, my mother’s gotra, lineage, may also have contributed to it. Agastya Muni has written a book called Upchaar Samhita—that is, Treatment Compendium—and the ancient text of Rig veda describes surgery for attaching an iron leg. As such, Agastya and his students are great practitioners of medicine and surgery. I am visiting his hermitage in hopes of getting my condition treated.”

  The Muni was abruptly interrupted by a loud voice.

  “I have not had human or tender monkey meat in a long time,” roared a Rakshas, demonic being, as he jumped from a tree and blocked Hanuman’s path. He rubbed his muscular hands with long, sharp nails over his bald head. His teeth were protruding out of his mouth, eager to bite. His seven-foot tall frame with raised hands looked immensely intimidating. He wore a necklace of human and animal bones. His blood shot eyes gazed at his lunch standing before him. He made a beastly, grotesque sound.

  In a flash, Hanuman plucked a huge tree as if it were a blade of grass and threw it at the Rakshas like a spear. The Rakshas dodged it just before it hit his chest but lost his balance. Hanuman threw a huge boulder at him. This time, it hit him in the chest and he fell. Hanuman quickly jumped a good ten feet in the air and landed directly on the Rakshas’ arm, severely damaging it. With one of his enemy’s arms crippled, Hanuman placed his left foot on Rakshas’ uninjured arm and strangled the Rakshas’ neck with his right foot until he died.

  Hanuman caught his breath after easily killing the man-eating Rakshas and said, “He looks old and seasoned, but became cocky because of our puny appearance. This gave me enough time to strike first. As soon as I saw danger, I felt a strange power inside me, and I reacted. I cannot control the power I feel. Also, I did not obey the rules of warfare. I did not give him a warning or a chance to surrender. I could have allowed him to get on his feet before attacking again. I want to be a great warrior like my father, not a killer.” Hanuman felt some remorse as he moved the dead body aside.

  “Victory to you, oh son of Kesari! You have a good head on your shoulders. This was an ambush, not a battle. Sometimes, use of brutal force is necessary to protect yourself,” said the Muni. “I have witnessed the valor and high moral character that you display at such a young age. Let us continue our journey.”

  Hanuman and Ashtavakra Muni got over the interruption quickly and continued with their conversation.

  “Getting back to your questions. Let me explain to you the secret of your birth and your powers. Great scientists and philosophers have long tried to create a super-human species by combining powers of humans and beasts together. In addition, we want this species to live for a long time.” The Muni’s eyes broadened as he revealed the ambition of the scientists.

  “Let me explain. Our planet goes through times when the whole Earth, except a few places where the sun always shines, gets covered with ice. Entire knowledge bases are destroyed and humans must start from shunya, nothingness or zero. This land that we live in is fortunate to have ample sunshine, plenty of water, fertile soil, scientific and technological know-how, and as such, is one of the ideal places to start the rebuilding process after great catastrophes.

  “Some scientists spent a lifetime studying the fetuses of humans and animals as they were available due to acts of war, natural, or other reasons of untimely death. Rig Veda and Atharv
a Veda have descriptions of how semen is formed and how man appears in the womb. In the beginning, they are only a few koshika cells in the fetus—some become eyes, some ears, and so on. Thus, the initial koshika can become anything: muscle, eyes, nose, etc. Similarly, in an adult, as koshika die, they are replaced by these special amar koshika that can become any organ as needed. So, if you ensure that amar koshika keep supplying fresh koshika, while the old koshika die off, you will have a human that will not age and live forever. There will always be a core of amar koshika available for whichever organ is dying and needs new koshika,” the Muni explained.

  “Diet, nutrition, and your way of living plays a vital role in maintaining balance between the supply of new koshika and the dying of old. The scientists came up with panchamrita, a mixture of potent foods, to be taken every day to maintain this balance. Scientists from eight major specialties—medicine, surgery, diseases of head, ear, nose, eye, and throat, pediatrics, psychiatry, toxicology, nutrition and geriatrics, and sexology—worked as a team to create immortal beings. But, of course, it is not that easy. A lot of volunteers gave their lives for this cause. Animals were also used for these studies. Most of them died due to too many amar koshika or too little. Only seven humans survived over hundreds of years of trial and error. And you are one of them!”

  “Wow! Mother and Father never told me this story,” said Hanuman with astonishment.

  “You are their son, not just an experiment that worked out. They love you. They must be waiting for an appropriate time. But, we have a lot invested in you, and you still have a lot to learn. So, it is time you knew the truth. Due to the exceptional moral qualities of your parents, you have a very good sense of right and wrong. That is very important for someone with power.