Dawn

by Rakesh K Kaul

  My mother smiled. ‘Maha is everything. He is Yuva’s father also.’

  ‘How can he be so many things? It’s not possible!’

  ‘My dear, Maha is life unbounded, anything is possible with Maha. Experiencing Maha is the key to becoming bigger than even Dushita and that is how he will be defeated.’

  ‘This is all very confusing—’ I began, only to be interrupted by Yaniv.

  ‘So, the women . . . Sorry, Dawn, I just want to know,’ he said, noticing my annoyed expression. ‘Is it so that Dushita just wanted to take away their power of knowledge of Maha? But why kill the women? Why not just suppress them even further? At the beginning of life, wasn’t this Eve’s punishment for eating the apple of knowledge?’ Yaniv asked.

  ‘Yaniv, if you analyse their plan, you will see the reasoning. As long as women were around, regardless of the fear that they were under, they represented a threat. Men no longer face a threat now. You all have to understand that the boon of immortality of the body that Dushita offered the men was a trick to bind them in bondage for all of eternity. In Kashmir, pursuing the immortality of the body was considered a sin, same as revelling in the filth known as sensory pleasures. It is much like a worm enjoying life in pus.’

  ‘So you mean to say that the Circassian women, these silicone robots, who can’t have children like real women, also represent the death of possibility for men? That it is the evolutionary force that dies?’

  ‘That’s true. Death and birth go hand in hand just as no death goes with no birth, They’re Artificial Intelligence! Glorified robots with infinite power, thanks to technology. Arman and Dushita do not possess the power that could be endowed to these machines to have children. They cannot create infinite possibilities, which is the property of Maha, the way a real woman can. And hence, they pose no threat to Dushita since they are devoid of Maha.’

  ‘These people are pure evil,’ said Tabah, his voice unusually heavy. ‘They have to be stopped. My father died protecting my mother. We need to stop them.’

  ‘And we will,’ I said, anger rising in my heart, knowing that my father was the reason everyone lost someone in their families.

  Tegh nodded. ‘Don’t you worry, brother. We will be their reckoning.’

  ‘Yes. The light always comes through in the end,’ it was Tan, the lama who had spoken, much like his true self. ‘For that we need to go deeper. Vidya, how did the rule of women in Kashmir end?’

  ‘You’re right, Tan. We all need to understand the history,’ said my mother, taking a sip of kahwah. ‘It happened a long, long time ago when the first queen of Kashmir was appointed by Lord Krishna himself, of the original Pandavas fame. These Pandavas ruled Kashmir for 1,331 years. The last queen of Kashmir was Kota Rani who succumbed to the Kali Andhi, the Black Wind forces in 1339. Even after that, the long war lasted nearly 700 years, but the queen’s Yodhas, her warriors, were finally driven out of Kashmir during their genocide in 1990.’

  ‘How tragic!’ I exclaimed. ‘How could Dushita’s agents do this to the indigenous people who gave them sanctuary?’

  ‘Because they came with a mission to destroy the women-first civilization,’ my mother explained. ‘The war against women, which had begun in the first millennium, now picked up speed. The battleground expanded around the world as the Black Wind forces continued their unstoppable march towards domination. For this, overpowering the women and taking the spirit hostage was key. The freedom-upholding Yodhas fought back with their women alongside them. Their ace weapon was an ultra-secret sisterhood called Yoginis Who Code. In every Dushita-directed, male-dominated society, they put inbuilt encrypted secret backdoors trusting that their descendants would decipher them, and it would prove to be the saving grace of humanity.’

  ‘Wait. The Yoginis Who Code planted viruses in their systems that could be triggered later?’ asked Hafiz, open-mouthed.

  ‘Yes, if you put it simply. These women were very smart. The first scientist who had done that was a young graduate, an Indian woman at the University of California, Berkeley, who had pioneered the trapdoor method that built secret chambers within the quantum computers. You see, the computers were helpless here in knowing their own self as they couldn’t crack her code, only the Yoginis could. Armed with the Mahadev Protocol, the Yoginis could place a harness on the quantum computer and drive it wherever they wanted. When the final holocaust came in 2990, exactly on the one-thousand-year anniversary of 19 January 1990, they left behind their secret tunnels that had the communication protocols inbuilt to save the world. Pandavas, you are not deprived of leverage in this war.’

  Hafiz gasped. ‘So, the pathways that I cross as a cyber outlaw were actually laid out hundreds of years ago by these Yoginis! Who could have thought that! That’s unbelievable! But that also means that even AIman cannot crack these “tunnels”, so to say, but I can! AIman knows everything except what is inside her. She can be defeated,’ he said, punching the air.

  ‘Yes!’ Tabah bumped his fist in the air, laughing. ‘So, there is a way to beat the inhuman AIman. But then,’ he suddenly became serious, ‘there are the other two masterminds—Arman and Dushita . . .’

  ‘And here, Dawn will be our secret weapon,’ Tan finished the sentence. ‘We need to understand your powers fully, Dawn,’ he said, looking at me. ‘Now I see what Yuva was saying all along.’

  ‘You do?’ I said, feeling the spotlight on me as I saw everyone’s gaze boring into me. The room had suddenly gotten very hot.

  ‘Of course. A woman is certainly the bearer of life and now we have learnt that she is also the carrier of life’s secret powers. But the question is, how will you access Maha, unlock these secrets and become more powerful?’

  ‘But men should be able to access Maha too,’ Tabah cut in, looking at me intently. It felt odd, like I was stealing some powers that were not mine. I didn’t even have them!

  My mother smiled and replied, sensing the change in the mood, ‘Yes, they can, but they do not develop the taste for pickles when they are pregnant.’

  Seeing the confused faces of the Pandavas, I laughed, knowing the ways of my mother. ‘Okay, ma, share the joke. Tell us what the story is here?’

  ‘Yes, please tell us. I love stories and have not heard one in years,’ smiled Yaniv sheepishly, glancing at the others.

  Laughing, maej picked up the cup of her now almost-cold coffee. Like everything in the pod, coffee was a luxury that was never wasted. ‘Let me tell you the story of King Sushena.’ Taking a quick sip, she began. ‘Sushena built a beautiful garden at the base of Chitrakuta Mountain. This is where Lord Rama cremated his father. His brothers, led by Bharata, came to beg Rama to return to his kingdom. You know, their meeting is described by the poets as of such emotional intensity that even the rocks melted.’

  ‘Must be some pyrotechnic. It can’t be true,’ Tabah said, rolling his eyes.

  ‘Whatever it may be, can we please not interrupt!’ Yaniv shouted back. Even Tegh let out a chuckle at this. Yaniv had never had anyone tell him stories, and these experiences were truly heightening his interest levels. My throat was suddenly choked up; I had never even in my wildest dreams imagined a life where I would be around anyone other than my mother. It was like the stories she had told me of her childhood, of her and her friends surrounding my grandmother as she told them stories in the evening. Wiping the corner of my eye, I pressed my mom’s hand affectionately.

  She smiled. ‘Well, yes, let’s continue. So, one day, a lovely damsel by the name of Rambha wandered into King Sushena’s garden. The king was so spellbound by her beauty that he thought that surely she was a celestial being, an apsara. They both fell in love and soon she gave birth to an exceptionally beautiful girl. Rambha then revealed her secret to the king that she was a celestial being, a vyom nymph and that now having given birth to a half-earthly, half-celestial daughter, she had broken the rule of not getting into wedlock with an earthling and would have to return to her home. The heartbroken king was left alone to raise h
is daughter, whom he had named Sulochana because of her magnetically graceful eyes.

  As time passed, Sulochana grew up and one day met a young ascetic in the very same garden where her parents had first met. She was struck by his simple, self-restrained look, which somehow projected an intensity that revealed the power within him. She fell in love with him on the spot. But the ascetic, being well, an ascetic, gave her a blessing, saying, ‘May you be blessed with a husband.’ Sulochana with downcast eyes, replied, ‘If your blessing is not only your command but also your desire, then ask the king, my father, who has the power to give my hand in marriage to the first suitable supplicant.’

  The ascetic, having given his blessing, had to follow his own words. And who would not have desired the beautiful Sulochana? So together, the two went to the king, who was greatly impressed by the monk. But he had a condition, ‘You can have your wish if through your ascetic powers, I too am granted my wish to be reunited with Rambha.’

  The ascetic thought for a moment. He said that with the great powers he possessed, this desire could have been easily granted. However, he was conflicted because he had self-interest in the matter. Nonetheless, he did have a solution. He bowed to Sulochana, concentrated deeply with his eyes closed, and said, ‘Hear me, O celestials! I submit my virtue that I have gained from my asceticism to you and request Sulochana, my bride-to-be, to pray for the desire of our unborn child. May our child’s grandfather be united with its grandmother.’

  ‘Tathastu, your wish is granted,’ a celestial voice replied. King Sushena then handed his daughter to the monk and was immediately borne high up in the sky where Rambha was waiting for him alongside her handmaidens who showered flowers on the king.

  ‘Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! Wait, how does this story connect to the powers within a woman? And, of all things, about the comment you made about the pickle and the woman who was with child?’ Yaniv exclaimed.

  ‘Simple, Yaniv. As a life science person, you understand that a woman develops strange food preferences when she is pregnant. You must have read it somewhere, right?’ she said, smiling. ‘This is because she is in a state called dohada. It is said that in this state, she is now two hearts, two wills, two desires. Her wish and that of the unborn child are now joined. In this state, her craving is the strongest emotion known to humans. The pregnant woman’s wish is unstoppable and undeniable. And so, everyone seeks to please her child through her, and so does Maha because Maha is life unlimited in the form of the embryo. So what the ascetic did here was to merely move in Time and Space and connect Sulochana’s Cognition Twin with her unconceived child to fulfil her father’s request. Now, you understand better, how females through the baby in their womb can access Maha. And even more why women equipped with the dohada power are stronger than boys.’

  The boys had been listening with rapt attention, for when the story ended, Tan immediately gushed, ‘You’re an exceptional storyteller, Vidya. It reflects your understanding of the science of life. It was truly a pleasure to hear you,’ he bowed to her. ‘Can I umm . . . ask you something personal?’

  ‘Why, surely, Tan.’

  ‘When you were expecting Dawn, did you make a dohada wish?’

  My eyes shot towards Ma. She never told me all this, let alone what she wished for me.

  ‘I wished for her what every mother wishes for her daughter,’ she said softy while running her fingers through my hair. ‘That she be blessed by Maha to become a creator. That is Nature’s way and that’s how life sustains.’

  I do not know why tears welled in my eyes. I quickly wiped them away and fought hard to maintain my composure, since I was chairing the war council.

  ‘Uh-huh,’ Tabah cleared his throat. I think he noticed my discomfort.

  ‘Yes, Tabah?’ Tegh asked.

  ‘We can proceed with the larger questions; time might be running out for me. I don’t know for how much longer I can be on this call,’ he said, looking around. In the hologram call, I could only see Tabah’s frame and not his surroundings.

  ‘Tabah is right. Let’s go ahead,’ I said.

  ‘It is about your father, Dawn.’

  At the mention of his name, I saw my mother stiffen in her seat a little and start fidgeting with the rim of her coffee cup. My own rage filled me up, the anger rising up like a volcano.

  ‘What about him?’

  Tabah was unperturbed by this change of mood. ‘When Dawn meets her father, Arman, it will be male versus female, destroyer versus creator. Who wins?’

  I was thinking of what would be a fitting reply when I heard my mother’s soft but resolute voice. It had an unwavering quality to it. ‘A Maha creator can create the infinite, whereas a destroyer is limited to the finite,’ her hand movement mirrored the expanse. ‘In that inequality lies the seeds of Dawn’s victory. But what Dawn creates, Tabah, is where she will need your artistic knowledge and help. You are the master of that.’

  I was impressed by her tactful reply; she had turned a potentially confrontational conversation into a friendly one! There was more to my mother than met the eye. Even Tabah seemed to be beguiled by her reply. ‘Whatever Dawn will create will be beautiful, no doubt,’ he turned to look at me with a smile, ‘and she will overpower Arman’s artificial ugliness. Dawn, I will support you with all my heart and might . . . whatever I have. I know you will get justice for yourself, you Vidya, my mother and all the women who were Arman’s victims.’

  I stood up, my hands boring into the steel table. ‘Tabah, I will do my best. Till my last breath if I have to. Their day of reckoning is not far and will be swift. But I will need all of you and the knowledge you all bring to help me . . . help us.’

  ‘Yes, I too have always felt that knowledge is the supreme weapon and you and Vidya have given it to us. My knowledge, whatever I have gained over the years, is yours,’ said Tan, colour rising in his cheeks. I was touched; I hadn’t seen Tan express something so emotionally until now.

  Tegh and Yaniv nodded at me and smiled.

  ‘So the key lies in knowledge, Vidya?’ Yaniv asked.

  ‘Yes, to defeat AIman and Arman, knowledge of their weakness and knowing your own strength is critical.’

  ‘What about Dushita?’ Tegh cut in. ‘Doesn’t he reign over them?’

  ‘Good question, Tegh. When it comes to Dushita, it is the exact opposite. That is the lesson of Lila, the very first vyomanaut, the first skywalker.’

  ‘Yes! Another story!’ It was Yaniv, who sheepishly looked at Tabah as soon as he’d spoken up. He murmured a ‘sorry’ and sat up straight.

  My mother chortled and continued. ‘Yes, it is the story of Lila, the queen who was deeply in love with her husband and wanted him to be immortal. Finding that it was impossible to attain never-ending life, she appeased Maha’s consort who granted her wish—that her husband’s soul would never abandon her private apartment and that his body would not decay. But then, one day, he died.’

  ‘So the promise was not fulfilled?’ Yaniv questioned, his chin resting in his palm.

  ‘Coming to that! So, when he dies, she asks Maha’s consort where her husband is. Imagine her surprise when she finds that he is in a new world, a different dimension, a parallel universe inside her very apartment, where he is a ruler accompanied by people, some known and some unknown. It is as concrete as the world she came from and the king there is fully alive. She thinks that the known people have died too, but when she returns back to her own world and apartment, they are very much alive.’

  ‘Multiple universes?’ Tan inhaled loudly.

  ‘Has to be? Or afterlife?’ Tegh suggested, ‘But which one is real? I say the second one.’

  Tan argued back, ‘Both are real or unreal given that Lila has a shared experience with the king in both worlds that is equal in every respect.’

  ‘You make it so much more confusing, Tan!’ said Tabah, his expressive face displaying his wonder with his eyes popping out. ‘This is beyond what I know or understand. How is this possible?’

&n
bsp; ‘Well, think about it, Tabah,’ maej said. ‘Lila finds out that what one thinks as knowledge of our world and of its objects is the maker of grief and is ultimately evil.’

  ‘I’m still not getting it, Vidya!’

  ‘Hmm,’ my mother looked around, deep in thought. After a minute, she spoke, ‘Dawn told me you all know the story of Meghavahana. Think of it like Amrita’s advice to her husband Meghavahana—to think outside his kingdom and his people. So here, for Lila, she must go beyond knowledge. Only then can she understand the truth of reality that is not limited to or accessible through worldly knowledge. As long as one is trapped in the illusion of knowledge, Dushita will win, but the moment one realizes the non-existence of the “knowable”—a state called tapas—one wins.’

  ‘This is all very confusing, ma.’

  Tan spoke, ‘No wait, I think I get it, Dawn. This is just like Yuva who seemed like a dream to us until he turned out to be real. So, what we think is real could very well turn out to be a dream. Right, Vidya? We are living in a matrix that is a simulated reality—an illusion.’

  What my mother said next hit me with the force of a thunderclap. ‘Children, there is no easy way of saying this,’ she looked at us gloomily. ‘The terrifying truth of the Great War against Dushita, which will lead to . . . nothing remaining . . . is that to win, the warrior has to reach a state where nothing exists to begin with. You can’t and won’t exist. If there are no objects, then there is no space, then there is no sequencing, which means that there is no Time and then there will be no Dushita.’

  I looked at everyone. Even with their dark AI glasses on, I could see the horror and shock that covered their faces.

  ‘I am a simple warrior,’ Tegh said, ‘Correct me if I sound foolish, but to me, all this means is that if Dushita is inside people’s minds and messing us up in here,’ he said, tapping his forehead, ‘then one shuts off the mind. Dushita is a bad dream in our dream world, which we think is reality and one must wake up from that nightmare. Poof! Goodbye, Dushita.’