by ASHUTOSH RAI
‘Thank you. The celebration is for my brother but I am getting the gifts,’ said Charan and closed his hands in a namaste and turned for the Satyarathi hall.
‘You are still remembering him,’ said an another familiar voice. Elcleis craned his head to look on the source of voice and smiled simply. It was Nandkant. He was royal priest of Virnagre and one of the Satyarathi Warriors.
‘He was my son,’ gasped Elcleis. For a while, his mouth was open, slightly tilted and breath exhaled formed a small fog and vanished. He had restricted his pain from flowing in stream. ‘I am trying to desert him from my memories. It is not easy.’
‘We are sorry my friend. We could not save him. He was infected,’ said Nandkant showing sympathy.
‘We are actors and this world is our stage. The script is already written,’ retorted Elcleis as he stood from his place and began to walk down the hills.
‘The name ceremony is to begin.’ This voice made Elcleis stop. He turned and bowed his head before his emperor. ‘My apologizes, my emperor. I must watch the security. The second Prahar is to begin.’
‘Are you not happy?’ asked Vikramchandra.
Elcleis replied quickly, ‘I am, my emperor.’
‘I could not see any sign – of being happy. What is the matter, SATYARATHI?’
‘The curse.’ Once again there was lack of words in Elcleis’ answer.
‘That is never going to happen. Virnagre and whole Purvakhand is going to live for one more millennia.’
‘It is today the day that had been mentioned.’ Elcleis cast an abrupt look at Vikramchandra. ‘I have my duties and my oaths.’
‘I won’t stop you. But the curse will not fulfil till there is humanity.’
Vikramchandra nodded. ‘Return soon. My second son is worthy of your blessings. He is too a re-incarnation. A Rakshak. He is going to be your pupil and then one day he will serve you the head of that Evil Lord Jakrant to you in guru-dakshina.’
‘Jakrant don’t have a real body like us. He is incorporeal and away from reach of any human,’ said Elcleis courteously and walked down the capital city to check the guards. Dirgha and Dravid followed their friend escorted by two soldiers.
‘He will come?’ said Vikramchandra but his words were a question. He knew that he failed in completing his promise. His judgement had made Elcleis once again an unfortunate and one thing which was most unfortunate was that Elcleis never complained for that. After all he was warrior wizard trained to battle the every unfortunate things of the life. He was a wizard of degree three which meant he has dangerous duties. Duties that not any wizard but only the special one can commit and complete. He was the head of Satyarathi warriors. He was guardian of the sword: Virum Blade.
Elcleis glanced the melodious flow of Saraswati River as he crossed the great bridge made of golden rocks. The bridge was as old as human civilisation and as young as the modern world. It don’t had any sign of begin ancient. Elcleis sighed, ‘Everything is illusion. This bloody life too.’
‘Are you thinking of retirement,’ asked Dirgha, trying to pace with Elcleis and Dravid.
Elcleis and Dravid stopped. They stared him like a punisher. Dirgha gulped and stared back. ‘Don’t scare me. I can’t be frightened. I am a Dwarf.’
‘You are a Dwarf’ confirmed Dravid.
Dirgha winced. ‘What do you mean?’
Elcleis and Dravid together. ‘You are a Dwarf. A Dwarf.’ The two soldiers escorting the three Satyarathi looked at each other in anticipation and grimed. The three Satyarathi started laughing.
Dravid moved to the soldiers and stared them angrily. ‘Both of you - now, at once will go back and will make busy yourself in guard of the ceremony hall.’ The soldiers sprinted to ceremony hall, mesmerizing a soft prayer to their favourite god, Lord Shiva.’
Dirgha looked the two long men with troubled eyes. Elcleis came to Dirgha, bowed down and whispered in his ears. ‘I am a wizard. You are a Dwarf.’
‘Don’t try to scare me,’ shrugged Dirgha. He clenched his fist on handle of hammer axe tied to his waist. ‘You know I don’t like jokes of a wizard. They are hazardous and I don’t want any trouble.’
‘Calm down, calm down, Dirgha. We were just kidding’ said Dravid, waving his hand and trying to water the anger of Dirgha.
‘I won’t put you again before a crocodile,’ gasped Elcleis.
‘You should not,’ yelled Dirgha frowning. ‘This not your age to kid. You are old. You are a wizard. You are a Satyarathi. Be attentive and responsive to your goal.’
Dravid and Elcleis smiled. Dirgha continued staring them.
‘That what we were trying to make you understand. A wizard never take retirement. He becomes old and die,’ replied Elcleis and ‘Shhh!’ hissed Dirgha. ‘A wizard can’t die till he has his staff in his hand.’
Elcleis looked in his hand. He had left his staff beside the throne on which he was sitting in the ceremony hall. He replied, ‘I am wizard of degree three. I neither need staff nor I need a wand and if you think that you can thief my ring then I am sorry. I don’t have any. I am wizard of degree three.’ The three guffawed loudly.
They continued to the first fortification and walked to the legion who was kept in charge of it. The brick used for building were triangular and too covered with gold. At the joint of two brick a picture of Lord Vir was etched. The Legion in charge was standing near the battlement and was observing the activities of other fortification and the land beneath the Ananthiya hills.
‘Everything fine? Legion?’ asked Elcleis firmly as he took the binocular from hand of the man. The view dropped down the hill with ninth layer of fortification. Elcleis nodded simply as everything seems to be simple. The cities and villages down the hills were busy in their usual activities.
The man bowed down in the obvious manner. ‘Yes, Great Satyarathi Elcleis.’
Elcleis stared the legion and walked down the stairs of fortification. The sky had a difference silence. The clear sky had turned dark and cloudy.
‘It might rain today,’ said Dravid analysing the atmosphere.
‘Rain is good,’ said Dirgha.
‘But not this silence. Cloudy sky but still the sky and the wind make no sound. We should be alert,’ suggested Elcleis. The marks of a foreshadowing danger crept over his forehead. We walked hurriedly down the stairs.
‘Have faith Elcleis. Virnagre will never fall,’ screamed Dirgha.
‘The curse won’t fulfil. We must belief in ourselves,’ said Dravid loudly. Elcleis neglect their saying and continued going back down the stairs. The bell of Shiva Temple sounds violently as the sun dial indicates the start of second prahar. Elcleis turned to the direction of sun dial and his body trembled with fear. A big fire ball emerges from the ever silent Vitra Volcano and fall on the building of ceremony halls. Yet it could have no harm on the wall. Elcleis put his hands over his heart with a long breath.
His ears stunned as he heard panting footsteps. The Legion on the biggest wall fell down screaming. ‘Sharak! Danava are coming! Cauvcrach! Evil Creatures! The black flag!’
The war drums started banging. Angagrah, the city down the hill turned into a ground of bloodshed and cry. The sky open and for the first time the space was watched without any third medium. The smokes of Vitra formed two dark horrible eyes. It was Jakrant. Incorporeal. Invincible like a harbinger of death.
Elcleis looked at those eyes. The city he had promised to guard was in danger. He concern was about to turn true. The day of the fulfilment of the curse had come. The capital city was filled with running and screaming. Terrible and painful. Looking in those eyes, the souls of people of Virnagre were filled were irritation and pain.
Elcleis shrieked, ‘Jakrant has returned. Wear your armours and clung your weapons.’ His voice dropped down as he darted for the battlefield. He could see every evil creature he know. The troop of Arkja warriors had been nearly destroyed. Dirgha and Dravid sped forward swing their hammer axe and mace respectively to fight against the arm
y of black flag. The army of Virnagre was nothing but an ant in crowd of elephants. The most hilarious scene was watching the four Ahi, literally dragon.
‘This is aura of annihilation,’ said Elcleis in feeble voice and dashed desperately in direction of his Satyarathi friends. A Danava soldiers charged on Elcleis, beating his chest and swinging a metal chain madly. He brought the chain abruptly near Elcleis’ left hand. Elcleis swerved avoiding the strike. Enraged with anger Elcleis held his hand up, eyes filled with thrust of blood and his spear staff came into his hands. The Danava looked at Elcleis with surprise and sprinted for his second attack. He knew that he was facing a Satyarathi. He roared madly and soon was joined by thirty more of his Danava friends.
Elcleis smiled viciously to encounter his frantic enemy. He took a coin from his cloak and touched the emblem of Satyarathi etched on it before reciting the warrior pledge: ‘TRUTH, BLOOD AND HONOR.’
‘Haaayh!’ screamed Elcleis as he hold his spear staff tightly and thundered on his enemy soldiers.
With the sunset, the time of happiness came to a long scary silence. The darkness covered the land and the great palaces, towers and other building were still melting in heat erupted from Vitra Volcano. Sharak had filled the capital city of Virnagre with scream and blood. Emperor Vikramchandra had been murdered against the codes of war. The men of black flag are now searching the queen of Virnagre.
‘Find her! She must be nearby,’ said Ketushutra, a general of Sharak’s sinister black flag who hold the power of invincibility. He laughed like a crow. ‘We will find you beautiful. I am sure you will entertain our king very joyfully. Come on, don’t hide. You can’t escape. You husband is dead. The Satyarathi warriors are defeated and those beautiful Arkja warriors had become corpses.’
Queen Mandheyaki cuddled herself behind stones that had been laid beneath the orange tree. The view of Saraswati River was darkening with her passing breath. She whispered, ‘Gita….’
‘Yes, my queen,’ replied Gita. Her hands were skinned and the pain of trickling blood was shrilling her recesses.
‘Grow him as your own son,’ mumbled Mandheyaki as she looked her infant son Saraswatichandra. ‘Train him a fierce warrior. He must complete the prophecy. He is the future. You have to make him THE-ONE-WHOM-FUTURE-WAS-WAITING-FOR. Go. They are coming…’
‘You too are coming with us, my queen,’ sniffed Gita, trying to hold her tears.
‘I can’t go further. My day has been inked.’ Queen Mandheyaki smiled as she moved her hands over head of infant Saras. The blood from her hand painted his head. She stared Gita with a last sentence. ‘Death is certain.’
‘No, No, Please!’ sobbed Gita inconsolably and hold the hand of Queen. She heard the calling of Dhwajkant. Her own nineteen years old son.
‘Maa….. maa…. Let us go. We must leave. The river will be the safest.’
Gita averted and stared her own son and then looked on infant Saras who had gripped her little finger with all the power in him. Dhwajkant said, ‘We must go, maa. See father brought the boat.’
‘Gitaaaa,’ screamed Nandkant. ‘Come fast. The river stream will take us far and safe.’
Gita stands up and took a last gaze at her queen’s breathless body. ‘She was a good queen. This is wrong.’
Dhwajkant held Gita by her shoulders. ‘They are coming nearer we must go.’ Gita drew her brows nearer and eyes big. She screamed, ‘Dhwaj….’
Dhwajkant flinched with pain. He had been stabbed by Ketushutra. Gita looked around. Nandkant was still far and they were surrounded by Ketushutra and his three men. They were having swords and shields.
‘So early, fierce Arkja warrior,’ laughed Ketushutra as he hurled his knife slowly in abdomen of Dhwajkant, allowing the blood flow slowly and give Dhwajkant a merciless but slow death. Dhwajkant fell on his knees, screaming. ‘Run..’
Gita stared her own son dying. She controlled herself and kicked the Danava soldier standing left to her and snatched his shield. She swayed back and jabbed Ketushutra with her right elbow. He tied the infant Saras on her breasts and clipped the shield on her back, so it would make a safe escape.
Dhwajkant struggled to crawl over Ketushutra’s body and restrict him completely. He screamed, ‘I am son of a Satyarathi and an Arkja. You can escape from my hands.’
‘Run….. Run Maa…… Run....’
‘Come on the boat. Our son is brave.’ Said Nandkant as he held Gita’s hands and pulled her on the boat.
Gita’s eyes were mixed with cry and praise. ‘My son is brave. My son is brave.’
As the boat sailed down the Ananthiya hills. Gita and Nandkant looked up at sky. It was covered with smoke of their burning city. Their eyes were filled anger and pain. The boat had come near to bank of Angagrah and the infant was horrified with the scene of dead people laying on bank side. The bunch of sinister Cauvcrach were raiding on the fallen corpses. They were having a resemblance of a crow like human. Dirty, black and voracious, who were born from the dark magic performed by witch Saile. Few of Cauvcrachs saw the boat and ran frantically for killing the three. ‘Fast….. Faster… More faster’ cried Gita and looked around hurriedly for any weapon. She got her favourite. A bow and a quiver full of arrows. She moved her eyes to Nandkant. He smiled and she looked back to infant Saras who in her hand. ‘No one can harm you, my son.’
She placed the infant Saraswatichandra on bench and guarded him by four arrows so he may not fall down. She turned around and knocked an arrow on bowstring and stretched it to ears. ‘Be away from my son,’ shrieked Gita and gave her attention on the Cauvcrach who was ahead of his friends. ‘Come on, Bastard. Come on, Die!’ growled Gita as her hair waved gently by flow of the wind that whispered through her ears. But she was not disturbed. Her attention was firm and eyes were still. She waited for the Cauvcrach to come in reach of her shot and released the arrow. Penetrating the air, it got stuck into neck of the Cauvcrach. Gita tilted her head and looked at the infant. He was smiling. He had accepted her as mother.
‘You will be safe, my son,’ said Gita firmly and took another arrow reciting the warrior pledge: TRUTH, BLOOD AND HONOUR.
The one whom future awaits
Every Day is a tale. Every gaze is a gathering.
The heart is beating, seeking for the mate.
(23 years Later, Vatvriksh, Capital of KUNDEY KINGDOM.)
The evening was pleasant, filled with cold whisper of wind. Now Gita had attained the status of Gurumata, literally the mother teacher, teaching the Sanskrit literature and grammar in the southern outskirt of Vatvriksh city. Gita gazed the clouds hovering above the Ashoka trees on her boundary. Her heart was breathing the calm air that was mixed with a strange silence from past twenty three years. Sitting on stairs made on the entrance of her house, she smiled at memory of the glorious past. Her face gleamed as the last few rays of sun fall on the ground. At distance of two paridesh her last student was taking the one last glimpse of her class which was hedge by flowers and covered by a bamboo roof. Gita reminded something and walked into the house and came back outside with a scroll in her hands. She called her student’s name loudly. ‘Kumud’
Her student heard the call and ran toward her Gurumata. Gita stared her simply and smiled. ‘I am blessed to have a determined student like you. You are my best student. The best I had taught ever. This is your certificate scroll.’
Kumud nodded silently taking the scroll. She had her results in her hand. She opened it to look for marks. It was having a Swastika mark and Gita’s name in Sanskrit imprinted on it. The swastika and the teacher name beneath it, was a proof of excellence in student life. Swastika was the most reverent mark used by people belonging to Sanatan religion in Purvakhand. It was mark of truth and completeness. When three horizontal lines were drawn against its left and right then it formed the symbol of Satyarathi warriors and is called Satyarathi symbol. Smile crept over Kumud’s face when she noticed the Satyarathi emblem on upper right corner of the scroll. She took no time in realizing th
at her certificate was even approved by Nandkant, Gita’s husband. He was once a Satyarathi warrior and after fall of Virnagre, he was allowed by Vikrant to live in Kundey on mercy. Kumud read her own name in whisper and smiled again. Her smile faded soon as she recalled that this was the last day of her graduation, perhaps the last day of her beautiful spent fourteen years student life. She is no more coming here again. Taking blessings from her Gurumata, she went back, her way to home in her royal cart under protection of a troop of ten royal bodyguards of Vatvriksh City riding on their horses. She heard a familiar voice and took her head out of the spherical window of the royal cart but soon her face fell down as she could not find the source of that familiar sound. She winced, shaking her head and slumped back to her seat. She was willing to see her best friend who mostly use to amuse and then peeve her mood by his never ending stupid talking and flirting which she never cared sincerely.
It has been sixty vighati past to sunset. On the way back she peeped out. She had realized that someone is following her cart. The sun was already down, invisible beneath the horizon. Her heart beat started pounding faster seeing the darkness enveloping the sky. She had learned about the group of a forest tribal community; Vahun, who kidnaps people for their food and dwell in deep of Angara Forest. She had heard that they become active with the sunset and are very brutal to kids and young ladies. Their activities had grown higher by the previous month. The thought ran a shrill through her body. She gulped, taking her head back in the cart.
