Points of light danced far above him, as if from another world, waving goodbye. Curious fish peeped into his open eyes, their absurd mouths working. A face floated above his. It seemed bloated, the eyes too big, the frog mouth too large. He watched it, dimly aware of an arm reaching out, of a sudden wrench, and then floating free. A strong arm towed him, pulling him towards the points of light and suddenly he broke the surface, the air cool on his wet face. Gagging, he vomited bilious water.
‘Breathe, sire,’ Bhuma spoke in his ear, ‘breathe. I’ve got you.’
‘Khanda,’ he gasped, one hand to his throbbing head.
‘I have that too, don’t you worry.’
‘Let’s get to the shore.’
‘I am trying, sire. Rest yourself against me.’
Saahas sighed, his gaze drifting. Mahanadi flowed majestically, an aquamarine river, tall hills hedging her on either side. The cloudless sky, a clear strip of blue, watched them from above.
‘Something isn’t right,’ he murmured after a little while. ‘Dyaut said his forces will help me reclaim my kingdom. How did he know about Aum?’
‘By Skanda, it is all rather fishy, sire, just like this river. The more I try taking us across, the more she pushes us to the middle.’
A big wave thundered back on itself and more followed in quick succession.
‘She’s making a whirlpool, Bhuma,’ Saahas said, snapping out of his lethargy. ‘Take a deep breath,’ he shouted, ducking beneath the foaming water and aiming for the quiet at the bottom.
But the vortex spiralled downwards, chasing them, sucking them into its funnel only to spit them out into the air. They fell heavily, landing on a beach, grains of sand chafing their skin. Blackness threatened to engulf Saahas as the wound in his head began to bleed again. He struggled against it, aided by the scent of mint and lemons tickling his nostrils.
‘Sire,’ he heard Bhuma, his voice filled with annoyance, ‘the river has turned placid again! The wild child! She could have drowned us.’ He broke off at the sound of high-pitched whinnies. ‘By Skanda, the horses are alive!’
Saahas rose to his feet, blinking at a million gentle sunbeams illuminating the landscape. The river looped around a thick stand of trees and as they crossed it, the smell of mint and lemons grew strong.
‘Look, sire, rainbows!’ Bhuma cried out, his voice fearful. ‘Someone has planted rainbows in the earth.’
A half-circle of seven astonishing trees grew tall on one side of a neat house, their bark coloured in the shades of a rainbow. Entwined together, the branches formed arches and under one of these stood a figure, a man in white robes, his hair a flaming red.
‘Is that you Saahas?’ The voice was neither old nor young, pitched neither high nor low. Instead, it was sweetly warm like a hot brew on a cold day.
Saahas started forward, but Bhuma clutched his arm, ‘He knows your name, sire.’
‘I am Tathakim. I have been waiting for you,’ the man continued, ‘come, my child.’
Shrugging off Bhuma’s hand, Saahas ran, slipping and falling at the man’s feet. He looked up eagerly, into the surprisingly youthful face. It was innocent of lines and hard planes like a baby’s, with eyes as blue as the midnight sky twinkling beneath creaseless lids.
‘I am here for the weapons,’ he said. ‘Will you give them to me?’
Tathakim raised him up by the shoulders. ‘If that is what you seek, then yes. These sacred trees will gift them to you. Patience is all the price demanded of you in exchange for the weapons.’
Saahas’s mouth curled, his face darkening, ‘That is nothing compared to my suffering of the past years. I am willing to go to any lengths for my revenge.’
Tathakim bowed, gesturing to a marble seat beneath a rainbow arch. ‘Cross your legs and close your eyes,’ he commanded. ‘The trees will do the rest.’
31
Saahas drew a breath but before he could close his eyes, the multi-coloured branches pushed out and around him, enclosing him swiftly in a circular prison.
‘What is this?’ he jumped to his feet, panicking.
‘Sire,’ he heard Bhuma scream and his hand reached down to his side for the khanda but it wasn’t there.
‘Let me out,’ he pummelled the coloured walls. ‘Do you hear me? Get me out of here.’
‘Stay calm, Saahas,’ Tathakim’s rich voice tolled like a temple bell, ‘or else the trees will not offer you that which you seek.’
Stumbling back to the seat, he squeezed his eyes shut and drew slow, deep breaths, the scent of mint and lemons suffusing his senses. The rainbow trees flickered under his closed lids, their colours shifting and moving like the shoals of fish he had seen at the bottom of the river. Then, all of a sudden, the colours vanished, leaching out of the bark, leaving only a white blankness. Saahas opened his eyes.
The circular wall around him was crammed with books. ‘A library,’ he exclaimed, jumping up from his seat and examining the shelves closely. One shelf caught his attention. It held only three books, the one covered in bark to the right, another in pure gold to the left and a book as white as the purest pearl in the centre. The white one attracted him the most and as he continued to look at it, a deep desire welled up in him to riffle through its pages. Yet, he hesitated, his hand hovering over it. All of a sudden, he changed his mind, and picked the book covered in bark instead. When he flipped it open, he found a single palm-leaf page, with one sentence inscribed on it— ‘Failure is just a word.’
Saahas pulled out the gold book next. It too contained a single page, a gold leaf with one sentence— ‘Truth at any cost.’ Gasping, he hastily returned the book to the shelf as if it frightened him and moved to the white one. His hand remained poised over it for what seemed an eternity, until he finally grasped it. As he opened it, a white papyrus slipped out of it, drifting upwards on an invisible current, the one word inscribed on it shining bright. Aum.
Tears fell rapidly, soaking his chest. ‘I will not fail you again,’ he wept, ‘I promise you.’ The encircling walls moved away, the colourful branches meeting once again over his head. Tathakim shook him gently. ‘You had a vision.’
‘Vision?’
‘Yes. You were screaming for help.’
Saahas grasped Tathakim’s hand. ‘I don’t know anything about visions. All I know is that I must return soon and save Aum. Please, I beg you, give me the special weapons. I cannot fail Aum again, I must not.’
‘Failure is just a word,’ Tathakim said, a gentle smile lighting his face. ‘It is the experience that binds us, making us suffer, and then we call that failure. But when we use experience to free ourselves, we become victorious. And what was the other sentence?’
‘Truth at any cost,’ Saahas answered in a choked whisper.
‘Truth,’ Tathakim shot a piercing glance at the distraught face, ‘do you want it?’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘Your vision, it is telling you to seek the truth about Aum. But for that, you must be willing to renounce revenge.’
‘No,’ he shook his head vehemently. ‘I cannot give it up. I must have my revenge.’
‘Then sit down once again and ask the trees for it. They will give you all that you need to destroy your enemies.’
Hot winds scorched a landscape so barren and grey that it appeared to be a desert. ‘Give me the weapons you promised,’ Saahas yelled at the bleak sky. It split open with a mighty rumble, the weapons falling out of it, racing towards him at great speed. A thunderbolt crackling blue fire, a crossbow spitting arrows in an arc and a flying sickle that could slice off a hundred heads in one stroke. He caught them deftly, a rush of energy pumping through him, a one-man army ready to take on the forces of Aham.
‘Yes, I will have my revenge,’ he snarled, and lowering his head, charged, his feet barely touching the earth. Dark shapes flew at him, like gigantic bats, screeching with hideous laughter. He leapt at them, his weapons attacking all at once, burning, hacking and slicing, splattering him wi
th sickening sweet blood. At last, they lay dead at his feet, Manmaani and her sons.
He stood over their bodies, laughing loudly but his laughter had a hollow ring. Everywhere he looked, he saw a wasteland, the people, his people, like the living dead.
‘Look, it is I, your Saahas,’ he cried out to them. ‘I have set you free. You are free of Aham. Everything will go back to the way it was before.’ But they shrank from him, blanching in terror.
‘You said you would save Aum.’ He whipped around at the sound of the voice. It was his replica, another Saahas, hollow-eyed with anguish, staring back accusingly. ‘Aum is dead,’ it cried, ‘and you couldn’t save it. You failed, yet again.’
‘Shut up,’ he screamed. ‘I am the king of this realm. Now that I have vanquished my enemies, I shall bring Aum back.’
‘Bring Aum back,’ the replica laughed scornfully, holding up a mirror. ‘You need to take a good look at yourself.’
‘No,’ he shouted, recoiling as if bitten by a scorpion, eyes wide with horror, ‘that is not me! Not me.’
‘Wake up!’ The sharp command jerked him into awareness. Tathakim floated towards him, as if treading air, ‘You have been weeping silent tears for over a week. What did you see, Saahas?’
‘My face in a mirror,’ he whispered, touching his cheek, feeling the rough bristle. ‘My eyes smeared with pure evil. I had become like my enemies.’
Tathakim held him by the shoulders, his gaze compassionate. ‘The weapons can make you invincible but only against mortal enemies. Your mind is your real enemy, Saahas, coloured as it is with hatred. With such a mind, any victory will taste like ashes.’ His gaze suddenly became penetrating, ‘Tell me, what it is that you really seek?’
‘Freedom, master.’ The spontaneous admission surprised Saahas and it was a moment before he spoke again, controlling the quiver in his voice. ‘Yes, that is what I want. I seek to be free of this mind. It won’t let me be. Help me, help me, please.’
‘Are you willing then to drop all your identities—Saahas the avenger, Saahas the brave general, Saahas the failure and Saahas the king?’
‘But,’ he looked perplexed, ‘without my identity, what am I?’
‘The identities are your unreal Aham, the false I, the cause of all your sufferings. When you remove the false, the reflection, what do you get?’
‘The real, the truth,’ he answered softly.
Tathakim smiled. ‘Truth at any cost. Pay the full price and Truth will take you from the limited to the limitless, making you the master of Destiny. It is the celestial weapon for which Dyaut sent you to me.’ Placing a gentle hand on Saahas’s brow, he said sweetly, ‘Recognize your thoughts as waves that come and go. Still them and the real you will shine through. Chant I Am.’
Saahas inhaled a deep, steadying breath. ‘I . . . am,’ he intoned, closing his eyes and was gripped immediately by well-worn emotions. Ecstasies and terrors, thwarted desires and ambitions, he scurried from one to the other at breakneck speed. ‘They will kill me,’ he pleaded, clutching his head, trembling uncontrollably, ‘I can’t do it, master.’
‘Stay with the I, Saahas,’ Tathakim instructed, breaking off a twig from a rainbow tree and muttering over it until it began to smoulder. Drawing out a multi-coloured spark from the wood, he touched it to Saahas’s head. ‘Keep good watch,’ he told it. ‘Help him focus on the I, the I that is constant from birth to death, the I that is the most beloved to each one of us, the I that is muddied with inconstant thoughts and feelings. Help him separate it from these, peeling off layer after layer.’
‘Rrum,’ the rainbow flame assented loudly and formed a smokeless ring, a cold band tightening around Saahas’s forehead. He cried out, feeling icy fingers burn into his skin, the flame seeping into his brain. And for all too brief a moment he glimpsed Tathakim, painted in the spectrum of colours, before his eyelids dropped. Instantly he panicked, past events and imagined futures warring to take control of him again. Rrum flared up, feeding on them eagerly, turning them into feathery snowflakes, blanketing his mind in silence.
It was a solitude of many shades. Of the infinite blue ocean cradling a solitary boat, of the vast rose-pink sky sheltering a lone bird, of the white summit bearing a man, of the last grey breath exhaled into death. Tension eased out of Saahas, bones and sinews relaxing, his breathing calm and regular. And then it came, the first faint echo of ‘Aa’ rising up from the bottomless well of silence. Slowly, it grew louder, the ‘Aa’ followed by a soft ‘ham’.
‘Aa-ham, Aham,’ resounded in his being, energetic and emphatic. ‘I Am,’ it sang, vibrating to its music. ‘I Am,’ it intoned, revelling in itself.
Saahas became inert, as if turned to stone, his breathing so shallow it couldn’t have stirred a feather. Days melted into nights and nights faded into days, the earth continuing to turn, the sun rising and setting as it was wont to do in an endless loop of seasons. Yet, time had come to a standstill as, neither waking nor sleeping, Saahas had set off on another journey.
32
Licking cracked lips, a crowd from Aham clustered at the eastern border, their eyes devouring the gathering clouds in the distance. Encased within the invisible walls, a swirling mass of dark grey covered Swarus. The scene appeared like an enticing melodrama playing out in a glass case, one that both thrilled and agitated the crowd. A resounding thunderclap followed a brilliant fork of blue light.
‘Rain,’ screamed someone. ‘I want to feel the rain.’ The man jumped, trying to vault over the low stone wall, but smacked into an unseen, solid surface, and fell back like a swatted fly.
Sweat-streaked faces twisted with hate, their growls of rage drowning out the thunder. ‘We are dying of thirst here,’ they shrieked, shaking their fists at the unflinching Swarus guards across the transparent barrier, ‘and you do nothing to help us. We’ll break the stone wall, then your magic wall will collapse, and you won’t be able to keep the rain from us.’
‘Break it,’ they chorused, pushing past indifferent Aham soldiers, attacking the barrier with sticks and knives.
King Odav surveyed the chaos from the high tower, the enlarging glass making the screaming hordes at the border discernible. A convoy of carts, piled high with goods, trundled into his vision.
‘The traders from the south have arrived, general. I wonder if they will manage to reach our gates safely.’ Suddenly, he swore. ‘The mobs of Aham have set fire to the carts, general, for God’s sake, do something.’
‘There are hundreds of them out there, Your Majesty. Short of using force, there is little I can do. And that would mean war with Aham.’ Amsha’s delicate mouth curled into a sour smile. ‘Much as I would love to avenge my friend’s death, I couldn’t live with obliterating an entire kingdom.’
Odav swung around, ‘Well then, lower the wall, let the clouds blow over to their side.’
Amsha sighed, ‘Your Majesty, the invisible wall is not high enough to prevent the clouds from sailing across to Aham. With barely a tree in sight to welcome them, they just won’t go there.’
‘Perhaps we could allow these miserable wretches to enter our kingdom for a few days to enjoy the rains?’
‘Your Majesty, you are too soft. It is a risk that I am not willing to take. These people are certain to run amok, besides infecting our citizens with their fears and suspicions.’
‘All right, Amsha, I see your point, but find a way quickly to get the traders safely inside our borders.’
The general’s chin sank to his chest, his fingers absently caressing his flute. A note peeped out, its call imperious. Amsha shook his head, ‘No, I cannot release you. Your fingerprints will give us away. Now do be quiet and let me think.’ He looked up suddenly, his eyes bright, ‘But of course, Your Majesty, Vijaya Dal.’
It was as dark as midnight and the wind tore at his clothes as he rode through the city. Soon, he reached the outskirts and turned off the road into a narrow dirt track. Cresting a hill, he rode into a flat meadow towards flickering lights. And
just as he reached a large barn, the rain came down, pelting him with fat drops.
Loud, feminine shouts assailed his ears as he stepped inside. Dressed in loose dhotis, with tight bandages covering their breasts, a dozen young women twirled on trapezes under the high ceiling. Swinging fast, they twisted and leaped mid-air, their weapons clashing. A bronzed, athletic woman, dangled from a rope, keeping a sharp eye out for a wrong move, lunging swiftly to correct it.
‘Aerial warriors,’ Amsha smiled his admiration.
‘Indeed,’ a laughing voice responded in his ear.
‘Riju,’ he exclaimed, glancing at the young man’s bare upper body slick with sweat, ‘are you in training too?’
‘But, naturally,’ the mason grinned. ‘I am the honorary member of the Vijaya Dal, the only male!’
‘Sire! What a wonderful surprise,’ Dharaa cried out, lightly jumping to the floor, sinews rippling in her body. ‘What brings you here?’
Amsha’s eyes lit up with a smile. ‘You, of course!’ Then his face became grave, ‘I need your help for a dangerous mission. It involves Aham.’
The couple exchanged a glance, their chins lifting, hands clasping.
‘We always knew this day would come,’ Dharaa said, her voice taut. ‘We are ready.’
For a moment, Amsha found himself back on a wintry battlefield, looking into a pair of brown eyes holding the same determined expression. Shaking his head, he drew a quick breath, and told them of Swarus’s helplessness in tackling the rioting at its border.
‘If we retaliate, we could wipe out Aham, so, we have to save them from themselves.’ His gentle gaze flickered over the Vijaya Dal listening to him intently. ‘You can act independent of the army. I need you to distract the Aham rioters and give me the opportunity to create a safe passage for the traders.’
The Crown of Seven Stars Page 16
