Throne of Purvakhand

by ASHUTOSH RAI

  ‘Legends are not born but made. I help needy. I help the hard worker. I help the man who has place for truth in his heart, Rakshak Rudravir,’ said the old man as stands from the stool and approached to Saras. ‘Oh! Sorry now in this birth, you are Saraswatichandra. But nothing will change by that. I think you have nothing to do with your name. You will not care whatever I call you. Will you?’ The old man leaned low and stared into Saras’s eyes but his preternatural eye didn’t scare Saras. It was the of the name conformation. The old man was none other than the man Saras was searching. In the time running at the moment and years ago, the old man was famed as Aarab, the one of the ostracized human legends and the lord of wizards around the planet. The time Aarab stared in Saras eyes had took the Lord of wizards into a past that he could never forget. His real name was Agravir, the second Ashtputra. Ages ago, he was a revered hero who later banished with his brothers because they dared to voice against the gods. He continued to stare in eyes of Saras who once was his step brother, the step brother who was loved dearly by his Ashtputra brothers.

  Aarab understood the questions reflecting from eyes of his long lost brother. Saras was till suspecting the truth that his heart was mumbling. ‘Are you Aarab?’

  ‘Yes, I am Aarab and I know that you are the same man --the same Rakshak about whom the prophecy is made. You are THE-MAN-WHOM-FUTURE-AWAITS. You are a brave son of Vikramchandra. You are amazed with my size and height of this room’, said the old wizard with a mysterious glance at Saras while changing his size to that of Saras.

  ‘Then you can take me to VIRUM BLADE’, said Saras.

  Stepping back, Aarab replied, ‘Come with me. I am here for that work only. I am here before you, to help you on orders of my elder brother.’

  Aarab shook his head and the wall behind the bed creaked. It was a hidden room. It was the temple of Shiva that appeared after a violet splash of light.

  The giant white Shivalinga was made up of Vajra, a heavenly metal which shines more brilliant than the diamond. As the hardest in nature it has capability to hold a great amount of thunder power in it.

  Saras was just warming his eyes with the beauty of the temple interior and Shivalinga.

  Aarab stared the floor and closed his eyes, waving his hand up and the temple flies with speed more than that of sun. It took them out of the earth and near to the heavenly golden mountain range Meru that floats in upper space above the casual ocean that was the root of universe. It was the same mountain range on which the city of god called “SWARG” (heaven) was situated. And its beauty cannot be told in words. It was something more than extra ordinary. It had buildings, roads and structures that a man could never make. Through the window of temple, Saras can easily watch the planets orbiting around the sun. And the most beautiful scene was of earth. Full of high mountains, vast green fields and lands, deserts, both vicious and lovely creatures, humans, animals, birds, rivers, deep oceans, and many surprising life forms adjoining with many beautiful non-living scenes. Beside these Saras saw something strange like an unknown dark shadow filled with pain and vengeance. It was terrifying. Saras decided to not talk about it.

  ‘You can see these divine mountains and the Kshirsagar, the casual ocean because you are the chosen one,’ muttered Aarab but Saras didn’t cared about it. He was mused in beauty that he had only heard in stories. Aarab continued, ‘There was time in every Kaliyug when men used his all powers to get to these unbelievable matter of the universe but he could not because they had been corrupted from their path. They had started deteriorating the nature.’ He smiled as he noticed that Saras was still not interested in what he said. He mumbled, ‘This bloody Kaliyug…’

  The temple stopped suddenly and the force generated had yanked Saras. As the temple paused from a violent pace, Saras stand motionless. His brain stumbled to react. Saras pressed his forehead with both hands trying to be back in the running moment. Soon again he was left startled as the torches hanged started howling rapidly. The fire formed body appeared through flames from the torch that appeared the wall against the window through which Saras was watching the universe. He was Panskrodha, one more the ostracised human legend. His already fire body escaped his eyes from Saras’ concern. The fire had not just formed the body but also the clothes that Panskrodha had worn. An extra flame had still wrapped around his lower, hushing vibrantly. He too had the characteristic of single-element-made. Saras moved back and ducked as the flame rises. Saras noticed that Both Aarab and Panskrodha were shadow less and old. Panskrodha handed over a tiny stone model of sword to Aarab and left the temple without a word.

  Saras sighed. ‘A tiny stone model of Virum?’

  ‘Yes, this tiny stone model of sword is designed same as Virum Blade. It is a key to the real sword,’ confirmed Aarab and started doing tandava, the dance of Lord Shiva, before the Shivalinga. It mad Saras more confused and trembled. He was shocked when the temple started shivering due to tandava dance of Aarab and a blaze of light emerged from the eye of Shivalinga and vanished on the floor of temple with a blast. There was again a surprise. There was no much harm to the floor instead a tiny hole had appeared which Saras could not see. This was no common hole but opening of lock and its key was the stone model of Virum. Aarab hurled the stone model into the hole and the shivering of temple stopped and once again the fire started erupting furiously but from the every torch that was hanged. The brisk shifted and made a gap of their own and a hidden tank with holy water of Saraswati came up. The blaze of fire torches get riveted on eyes of Shivalinga and another stone sword designed same as Virum emerges from the eye of Shivalinga. It was too big like the bow and hammer which had the swastika symbol of Ashtputras on it. Aarab grew his size and holds it tight before it could fell on floor. Aarab once again came back to reduced height and surprisingly with him the size of sword too got reduced. Aarab smiled and lifted it in air screaming the mantra of Shiva: Om Namah Shivay.

  It was the real sword covered with a thin layer of stone dust. The sword comes in its real golden look with a lighting when Arab screamed the mantra of Shiva. A five layers of natural element surrounded the sword generating power in it and then disappeared. These five layers were actually the ‘Panchtatva.’ A layer of Mrityunjaya Mantra of was embroidered on the sword’s fuller and the swastika symbol of Ashtputras on head of sword’s horn guarded hilt.

  Glancing the beauty of sword, Aarab said proudly, ‘You see this. It is here in my hands. You, the brave Saraswatichandra, the descendent of Vir the great. Do you see this? Have a look on it. It’s sharpness. It’s beauty. Think how it was made. This is your VIRUM. This is the boon of knowledge given to Ashtputras by Lord Shiva. And I must say that after facing trouble which occurred in a fast manner in your young age, you have raised yourself to the point of might where you are eligible to wield this invention of Vishwkarma, the god of creations.’ Aarab cast a soft look at Saras who was too fascinated by the look of the sword. ‘But the look that is fascinating you is a gift of someone else. It was broken in three pieces in the Devasur war against Vratasur, the first Ahi and most powerful Asura of all time. Then after many years it was Vitravir, the youngest Ashtputra who joined the three parts so efficiently that no one can say that it was reforged.’

  Saras continued gazing the sword. ‘Yes, really it is attracting me toward itself. I can’t resist myself.’ Saras takes the sword, totally submitted to its beauty. And then holding the sword, he saw something disturbing. It faded his face. Stepping back, he mumbled, ‘That dark shadow. It is very frightening.’

  ‘Did you said anything’, asked Aarab with a mysterious glance at Saras.

  ‘Nothing important,’ said Saras grumpily because he didn’t want to merge in a talk that he could not explain clearly. He instead asked Aarab, ‘Who was that majestic man was appeared from the flame? Was he Agni Dev? And the stories of Ashtputras. Are they real?’

  The silent face of Aarab burst into a small laughter. ‘Agni Dev! That celebrated deity of fire. No-no. It was not him. Believe me h
e has no importance when you talk about Ashtputras. And please, now put the sword in the tank to purify it or the tank will disappear soon.’ Arab escaped himself from talking about Panskrodha. ‘Put it in the tank and wait till the water don’t disappear.’

  Saras dashed to the tank and dropped the sword in it to make it pure and waited for the water to disappear. It didn’t took long as the water surged up and wrapped the sword and disappeared with the tank. The sword floated low to the ground till the brick formed back into floor and then the golden sword fell with its blade tinkling on brick. Saras took it back in his hand. Aarab waved his hand down and the temple made its way down on earth. For one more time Saras stood quite. He felt that he would vomit but he didn’t. He turned to Aarab who had no expressions on his frosty face. Aarab blinked and again a flash of light blazes through the room and next moment they were outside the temple. Down on the foot of mount Karil in the market from where Saras had started his climbing.’

  Saras was amazed. He can’t do anything more than giving his exclamation of surprise. ‘Wow! It was an unforgettable adventure. The space, the outer look of earth and heaven and the height of Karil. They all surprised me.’

  ‘So, I feel this adventure was enough for you. Now you must go to Kapikshetra.’ said Aarab firmly.

  Saras nodded his head but stopped suddenly as his eyes took his concern on the swastika symbol. ‘I had seen this symbol on a bow and on a hammer before? Every time I stare or touch this symbol, I feel pain and it drew me back to pictures of the dark horrible dreams that came in my childhood nightmares. Full of shadows drenched in cry, pain and vengeance. Much complexed and more inexplicable. This symbol of Ashtputras is threatening my soul every time when my eyes goes on it.’ Aarab averted as Saras turned to him with arguing eyes. ‘I had been told you to call Lord Aarab. So, Lord Aarab, answer me. What is happening with me?’ Aarab was still in mute. Saras gnarled, ‘You know everything but you didn’t answer my question. Whether the tales of Ashtputras are real or they are just a work of fiction?’

  ‘Your questions are already answered,’ said Aarab as he turned back. ‘As you were told already that existence lies in belief. The legends of Anantvir and other Ashtputras are real but the words of story you heard since your childhood is polluted with many lies. There are some hidden tales, some secrets which you will know all together but on a right time and on right place. The Eldest Ashtputra, Anantvir is alive, residing somewhere alone in the world of darkness. Today the scholars and the learned men of this world refute the truth of Ashtputras with a nefarious smile but as you know- Time keeps changing. The fall is to come.’

  ‘I had seen two picture of eyes. They were of two different man - Anantvir and Jakrant but they looked alike. In east there is a rumour. People say that Anantvir is Jakrant?’ asked Saras. ‘Is this true?’

  Giving a stern look, Aarab continued. ‘I think you got your answer and now you should leave for the city of Kallirathya. Kumud, your wife is waiting for you. She is alone. Hurry on. Destiny is very cruel in matter of love and peace .You doesn’t have much time for your companion and there are great works for you to do. She is waiting for you, Saraswatichandra. Rumours are too a type of existence. Silly existence.’

  ‘This is not the answer I asked,’ said Saras gently. ‘I had seen those eyes in Vahunian temple on a rock that appeared like a door. And above those eyes there was an ancient bow that had the symbol of Ashtputras on it.’

  ‘Did you lift that bow?’ asked Aarab with a grin and his voice had a hard coldness.

  ‘I could not take the bow because it was locked. But the door got cracks in it.’

  This enraged the anger within Aarab. ‘You could not lift that bow or you were already frightened by the eyes,’ shouted Aarab and breathed. Calming his anger, he gasped, ‘I am sorry. I was irritated by your answer. You are Rakshak and you are capable. You might have succeed in taking that bow if you had dared to fight your nightmare. The dreams you saw where truth of your previous birth. Shadow of the secrets of your past.’

  ‘Shadow of secrets of past?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Aarab simply. ‘Shadows appearing in your dreams are the memory of your past. The past that you had in your previous birth when you were Rudravir. You must believe in it because existence lies in belief. Go now. I will transfer you in a blink.’

  Aarab faced opposite with tears glinted in his eyes but Saras noticed them. ‘These tears. Why are you crying? Are you not coming with me?’

  Aarab frowned and winced. He was not willing to answer this question but after thinking something, he said, ‘No, because I don’t have luck like you. Time is waiting for you. You are having your charm, your luck. But even luck may desert you one day. She will be not always with you. And on a certain day, you will remember and believe my words. There are always some secret. Some resides in past. Some lives in present and some plans to come in future. Remember my one saying for always. The hidden eyes of the great man are burning in pain and anger because of this cruel world and it is watching you all over. They will protect you till you belief in their existence. Never go against them. They will destroy everything cruelly which is against them. Even you.’

  ‘Whose eyes?’ Saras asked faintly.

  ‘Eyes who can’t see you doing wrong. Eyes who care about you most. Eyes whose sparkles and shine both, only for you.’

  ‘But I am not doing anything wrong. I am just trying to remove the evil? I will slay Jakrant by Virum Blade,’ argued Saras. ‘So what is name of that great man whose hidden eyes will destroy everything? Who is the man you are talking about? Why his eyes will harm me if they shine for me?’ Are you talking about yourself? The eye that….’ Saras stopped suddenly as he recognized what Aarab was telling about. He asked, ‘Did you meant Jakrant? Eyes of Jakrant?’

  Aarab was silent for a moment. Saras was focused on eyes that can harm him. He saw tears for a second time in his eyes that were looking like a volcano’s mouth that had been covered with spider’s web. It turned his recognition. At first, he had construed that Aarab talked about his own eyes. But it got replaced by a new doubt that aroused. His mind started struggling in thought that if Aarab was saying about his own eyes then why he would harm him because it was Aarab who helped him in getting the sword from that fire-man? And if he was talking about eyes of Jakrant then why should Jakrant will care for Saras because Saras himself is against him and it was Jakrant who wanted Saras to die twenty three years ago.

  Before Saras could say anything, Aarab started, ‘You will know everything when time will think that you should know. There are always things like good or bad in this world. It’s all about our thinking. Everything is based on our action. Everything which we like is named GOOD and all that we dislike is called BAD. We are greedy. It all happens in the same way in which we do name a child. Everyone wants his child’s name to be best. It is too a kind of greed. Come with me, I have to show you something. The secret will be revealed at auspicious time. After all, even the secret has shadow.’

  Both walked out to the other road that Saras had not chosen two day before. That road took them to opposite face of the market after rounding the complete Karil. It took three hours as Aarab preferred to walk rather than use a transportation magic. Aarab showed him the beauty of ruined capital city of Virnagre. Its beauty was more than that of heaven.

  ‘You are the first man from your era who saw Ananthiya hills and the beautiful city of Angabhumi from the peak of Karil. Remember my warning. Never go against the eyes. Lord Shiva may guard your happiness,’ said Aarab with a weakly drawn smile and muttered a mantra called Sthanantaran. He started chanting his magical spell aloud that was formed by mixture of Sanskrit and Vritkrit words. “Kallirathyeseuat viroba mansu carma devarath Vanarashertum sthanetaran bahva re flesvm du se mate prati karma prasthaniey Saraswatichandrah shigratey tat su aham karesu shrium shivam namastu” and a light burst high from mountains and Saras was not there on the foot of Karil.

  Saras was standing near Kumud in their
room in palace of Abhiyudh. He held her hand gently as they sat on bed. It was a long time since Kumud had really laughed or smiled. He stared her continuously with love in eyes for her. Kumud lit off the lamps but the moon of night was still watching their sentiments. As brought each other close, their heart had started pounding heavily for each other. The nature had started tuning the magic of their love as they embraced each other warmly and the sound of love sprawled in the room.

  To be continued with the update on 5 January 2018…….

  Chapters that will be available in the update of 10 January

  The Silent Secret

  He is Live

  The Time for Secrets

  Dawn of the Day

  Beginning Of the end

  And Glossary…

  About the author

  Ashutosh Rai a.k.a. Atul Rai is a proud backbencher, always keen about mythology and history, belongs to a middle class family. Born and raised in Pharenda, a famous town in Maharajganj District of Uttar Pradesh in India. Currently pursuing his B.A., as an ambitious youth he has his eyes on the literary world. A novice with beautiful dreams and a highly unusual boy who is busy in creating world of his own imaginations, warmly inviting both applauds and critics.

  Throne of Purvakhand is his debut. The First book in The Lost Age Series that will be followed by three more books, set in an ancient world of Pitr Kalpa, it chronicles the journey of an extraordinary hero who turned into a virulently tyrannical and preternatural villain, whose name is enough to wreak havoc even in gods, despairing them of their courage and brain.

  To know more about Ashutosh and his books, connect with him today on:

  Facebook :- www.facebook.com/iamatulrai

  Twitter:- www.twitter.com/iamatulrai

  Instagram:- www.instagram.com/iamatulrai