‘How did Bala pull it off?’ Tan asked.
‘Just wait and watch.’
To my great surprise, as soon as the sun set, a few misty figures emerged out of the trees and the pillars. More came out of the neighbouring buildings, the walls and then some out of the very earth. They excitedly greeted each other by name, ‘Namaskar Sarla, Ware Chu Tika Lal.’ Sarwanand hugged Lassa; Ravi played with baby Urmi; and Sarla Bhatt told Sharifa about the patient that she was taking care of. Thousands of others were there, sharing the routine of their daily lives. More were streaming in.
‘These are all ghosts who have experienced violent deaths because of Dushita and his follower’s actions over thousands of years. Their lives were interrupted violently, and they are now trapped in limbo. This scene happens every night after sunset and at dawn,’ Yuva said.
‘But this is huge. Their number must be in the millions. The ghosts in Kashmir exceed the living?’ I asked.
Yuva nodded grimly. ‘Yes, Dushita’s flesh-eating appetite knows no bounds. They all await you to get them justice.’
The crowd formed a procession and then the final figure emerged from a stone statue. I drew a sharp breath because I recognized her from a picture that mother had shown me.
‘It’s . . . it’s Empress Kota Rani,’ said Tabah, mirroring my thoughts. He knew his history.
The crowd of attendees greeted her excitedly, some shouting victory slogans. They all sat down expectantly to watch a show. Then a drummer came out of the wall followed by musicians and the performer. There was an excited buzz. Shamima, the famed TV actress of her time, was going to perform the Mahachari dance. Shamima bowed and everyone’s eyes were glued to her as she performed her ferocious dance. It was as if her anger was easing the fierce and raging sense of the incomplete lives that the crowd had experienced. When she finished, the empress offered her a bouquet of iris and narcissus, which she accepted with one knee bent. Everybody stood up; they had experienced respite from the travails of the world. They hugged each other before leaving—they had so many chores to do. My eye fell on one dim figure and I took a double take. ‘Ma? Maaaaej!’ As I sought to call her, the first rays of full moonlight hit, and the crowd slowly faded and vanished like mist in the bright silver light.
I was left shaken. The boys too wore grim expressions. Nobody had taught us that evil massacres had been a continuous part of the land’s history. It had all been whitewashed in the Data Deluge.
I saw Tegh’s eyes had become red. He blurted, ‘What did we just see? What are these? Ghosts?’
‘A memory without a body.’
‘But how can anything exist without a body?’
‘Equally, I have memory and therefore I exist,’ Yuva countered. Another one of his riddles.
The horror of my mother and all the other women now had historical context: all were victims of Dushita’s hatred. ‘I saw my mother,’ I almost whispered. Yuva nodded.
Tan gently kept his hand on my shoulder. ‘Let us join hands and observe silence. Let us pray to Bala,’ he said.
It did not lessen the sting of the pain, but I was consoled that all these ancient spirits had come to Bala. Tan had mentioned that the kings would walk barefoot to this temple as a mark of respect. I could not help thinking that if a nine-year-old girl could slay thirty evil men, then I should be ready for AIman, Arman and their overlord Dushita. ‘The likeness of your mother is auspicious,’ said Yuva, as if hearing my thoughts.
I turned to him, ‘What was the secret of Bala’s strength?’
‘Simple. She remained pure. Those whom she fought were impure. The perfect against the imperfect.’
‘Pure? How did Bala become pure?’ I asked.
‘Through complete renunciation—rejection of everything. But the time for that will come later,’ he said, looking ahead. ‘So tell me, children,’ Yuva looked at us again, ‘what did we learn from these two temple visits?’
Tegh was the first to answer, ‘Our ancestors were right. To fight death, one must have no fear of it.’ He looked at me resolutely and nodded.
My mother’s death had bonded the Pandavas very closely with me. They had become very protective of me. Now all we had was each other. And each time we had a war council now, we would start by reciting the Great Oath of the sworn warriors, all of us holding each other’s hand and standing in a circle as a tribute to my mother.
‘I was struck that even in suffering, in death by Butshikan or in a state of unliving because of a violent end, the people were still joined together. It reminds me of a story my mother once told me,’ I let out a small laugh in spite of myself, thinking of her and the times she would tell me stories before I went off to bed.
‘Tell us, Dawn,’ prodded Yaniv, patting my back.
‘An elephant, maddened by the heat, crushed the nest of a pair of sparrows,’ I began. ‘The hen sparrow asked her husband to take revenge. And so, he went to his friends and they put a plan together. A gnat started buzzing in the elephant’s ear, the sound of which caused him to close his eyes in delight. This let a woodpecker approach him unseen and peck his eyes out. Writhing in pain, the elephant ran here and there. Then he heard a frog croaking. Thinking that it was a pond where the water could soothe his bleeding eyes, he rushed in, only to fall off the edge of the cliff.’
Everyone seemed a little uncomfortable after the story. Had I started to lust for blood?
But then Tan closed his eyes and ruminated, ‘Slaves are forced to place their trust in their master’s rules. This Niti story tells us that free humans place their trust in each other.’ He opened his eyes and looked squarely at me. ‘And that is how we will get justice and victory.’
Sarga 9
Home Again
Unmarked underground cave, Xi’an, China
Our time was running out and we still had not come up with a concrete plan to stop the evil Troika. Being in the cave of Trisirsha was like being in the womb until now, but I could not go back to it. We stayed in Xi’an because Tabah knew his way around and we could stay hidden underground. All I could think about was how ruthlessly AIman had occupied Trisirsha and killed something that was most dear to me. I needed to pay her back in her own coin. One morning, huddled around the fire, while stirring my uneaten porridge with my mace next to me, I made the bold decision. ‘It is time to enter the battlefield, the Valley of Kashmir, and take the fight to the enemy. We are losing time.’
Tan nodded; he was undeniably supportive as always. ‘We are in exile and there is no choice but to return and retake our home. As Pandavas, that is where our heritage lies. It is the land of our destiny. That is where the secrets of the Life Breath, the pathway to the mysterious Maha and the road to salvation of the Universe lies.’ He looked at us, unusually calm.
‘I agree. This is also the home base of AIman, Arman and their strongest forces,’ Tegh said. ‘We have to slay the black bear in his cave.’
‘But how do we enter? The land is guarded so tightly that it is virtually impossible to fly in undetected.’
It was Tabah who came up with a scheme. ‘Temperatures are dipping and bringing in cold weather earlier in the year because of global warming,’ he remarked, sipping his scalding hot herbal tea while stoking the bonfire. ‘Millions of birds would fly south from Siberia over to Kashmir and beyond. They would do so especially at night after a storm. We could join a flock and go undetected.’
‘It is getting cold,’ said Hafiz, pulling his jacket closer to his chest. ‘We would need better temperature-controlled clothing before we get there.’
‘I agree,’ Yaniv said through chattering teeth. ‘Before Dushita, the weather will do us in. Tabah, show us your wardrobe.’
The Valley was in a dormant state and still wet from the storm of the day before. We decided to fly in the predawn hours. Tabah was not accompanying us—he was already in the Valley attending to AIman’s work. The hamsas, the wild bar-headed geese, the northern shoveler honked at us as we glided at heights of up to 25,000 feet.
I was entranced by how spellbinding Kashmir looked, its misty hills narrating a story and making it look every bit the dreamland it is touted to be. It felt like a homecoming because my mother had shown me so many images of the Valley. But to finally see it with my own eyes was magical. Maya Asura, the legendary architect, had been given the mission that Dushita’s Kashmir should be such that humans would not want Paradise. If anything, he had exceeded in fulfilling his mission.
I decided that symbolically it would be important to land at the historic Martand Temple. After all, it was the house of the Pandavas and I was curious to see how time had dealt with it. Once we landed, luckily undetected, we saw what a far cry Martand had become from what we had seen previously. The destruction that had started had continued unabated. Broken stone pillars, strewn rocks, shattered statues bore mute testimony to Butshikan’s hatred and those who had followed in the service of Dushita. The serene river that flowed beside the plateau and the trees nearby were all silent witnesses. It was a graveyard.
‘For Arman, a shattered Martand serves a useful purpose,’ said Tan, looking around, picking up broken pieces of heritage rocks.
‘What purpose is that, Tan?’ Hafiz asked.
‘Martand is a heritage site designed to showcase the primitive state of Kashmir before Dushita entered and corrupted the Valley. Unfortunately, nobody knew what its glory was when Martand was created and treasured by its people.’
I looked around sadly, caressing the stones in an attempt to connect with the painful stories hidden inside them with the memory of my mother.
‘Guys, what are those?’ Tegh asked, squinting his eyes at the predawn sky, pointing to what looked like tiny insects flying towards us at a rapid speed.
‘They’re Mites, mini GELFs—Genetically Engineered Life Forms. They know we are here,’ said Hafiz, panicking as he grabbed his trusty PDA—Personal Digital Assistant—and his satchel.
‘I think we were discovered shortly after we landed,’ Tegh noted in an unusually calm manner.
Tabah had told us about Mites, the tiny sensors that dotted every part of the landscape and were continuously learning and measuring any changes in their vicinity. As Hafiz tried to intervene in their sensory output through his system, we braced ourselves. The Mites escalated to a swarm that came buzzing in the air and started circling us.
All of a sudden, a loud blaring alarm went off from the Mites.
‘Oh no. That’s Code Red,’ Hafiz bellowed.
Over the horizon, in the still dark sky, we saw something ominous coming towards us at full speed. Arman’s most horrific creation.
I screamed to the Pandavas to flee for cover.
‘What is that thing?’ I shrieked in panic, looking at the sky where a large creature slithered towards us, flapping what seemed like enormous wings.
Hafiz quickly scanned his databases while running, his eyes shooting from the PDA to the sky and back. ‘Okay . . . yes, yes,’ he said, huffing and puffing. ‘Ky(Q)om.’
‘Ky(Q)om?’ Yaniv shouted.
‘It is a flying mutant serpent with huge bat wings.’
‘We can see that! What does it do?’ said Tan, hiding himself behind a broken temple column.
‘It is an antibody weapon. Nobody can survive it. It is so poisonous that even though it is cold-blooded, it can slither through the snow unlike regular snakes that hide deep beneath the frozen winter ground. Umm . . . umm . . . yes,’ he muttered while his eyes scanned the text. ‘Says here that the horrible poison that leaks out of Ky(Q)om’s skin causes the snow around it to sizzle and melt, thus permitting it to glide effortlessly.’
‘Perfect! Yup, that’s great!’ I said sarcastically, as I spotted a broken structure of the Martand Temple that was good enough to hide all of us together. ‘C’mon! Here,’ I said, motioning to the others.
‘Tegh! What are you doing, you madman?’ Yaniv shouted. He was standing up straight and walking to the opposite side—towards the horrifying creature.
The bullheaded Tegh just smiled. ‘It has been a pleasure, my brothers, to stand alongside you. And you, Dawn, you are our only hope.’
‘Have you gone mad? What are you doing?’ I said, panicking but realizing in my heart what my strongheaded friend’s plan was.
‘So long! Hide!’ He smiled at me and bravely strode towards Ky(Q)om, beckoning it to come and fight him. ‘You worm, I will stand by my Dharma and I will destroy you. I exult and do not cower.’
Hiding inside the broken structure of the grand historic site, I watched helplessly as Ky(Q)om swooped in, covering the setting moon with its huge wings, its fangs glittering in the moonlight as the scales on its body shone like polished steel plates. It attacked a hapless Tegh from the air with its poisonous droppings. It sprayed its poison downward savagely. Tegh shrieked uncontrollably, instantly developing ghastly, leprous eruptions on his body.
‘NO! NO!’ we all screamed in unison.
‘The lethal poison will act slowly,’ said a teary Hafiz, trying to read the text that flashed on his system. ‘Ky(Q)om is designed to make its victims suffer,’ he added bitterly.
‘We have to get to Tegh,’ said Tan with urgency. ‘It is no ordinary snake. This is not the case when neurotoxins are injected by ordinary snakes.’
We could hear Tegh’s horrifying screams in the darkness. It was evident from the heavy rasping sounds that his body was wracked with tortuous pain; he could not breathe. He fell on his back, head unmoving, staring at the inky sky. Just as I was about to run to him, I saw the majestically evil Ky(Q)om land on the ground near a dying Tegh and straddle him. It brought its serpentine mouth up close to Tegh’s nose. Its forked tongue flicked from side to side, awaiting the release of the final breath from Tegh’s body.
‘It will swallow his last breath and destroy him internally with its poison,’ whispered Tan, shaking as his tears flowed freely.
Ky(Q)om raised its head and let out a hissing jubilant war cry that filled the air. First, it ripped off the small dagger from Tegh’s side. Then, it bit off the metal armband on his wrist. Then to deliver its coup de grâce, it lowered its head, ready to bury its fangs into Tegh’s eyes with brutal force, ready to inject its Halahala poison deep inside the consciousness of Tegh’s dying brain.
Writhing on the ground, my last image of Tegh was him making a slight movement: his thumb fell on his forefinger and the moon’s rays shone on it. His fingers were holding a hidden tiger claw that reflected the moonlight. He had had it all along!
As Ky(Q)om perched on top of my dying friend and his serpent head moved to strike at his eyes, Tegh’s right hand swung like a mongoose and grabbed Ky(Q)om’s serpentine neck. ‘Wahe Guru!’ he shouted, and the claw entered deep inside the monstrous creation and ripped it apart. A loud crack sounded along with a terrifying hiss—the breaking of Ky(Q)om’s neck. Tegh, who also was on the brink of death, collapsed. Ky(Q)om was dead, but the serpent’s tail was still whipping dangerously.
I ran towards Tegh and the three Pandavas followed me. I slammed the Trisulabija mace down on the tail and it crushed the monster’s spine, never to move again. Arman’s most fearsome monster’s death was at the hand of a Niti story, the hand of glory—a tiger claw lesson that Tegh had studied carefully. With his last breath, Tegh whispered his Jaikara war cry, ‘Bole So Nihal . . . Sat Sri Akal.’ He went limp.
‘No . . . no . . .’ muttered Yaniv, as he tried to pull Tegh from underneath the dead Ky(Q)om. We joined him and pushed the dead creature over.
‘Tegh!’ I held his head in my lap. ‘Do something? Anything!’ I yelled at Tan and Yaniv. Tan was murmuring prayers to compose us and himself. Yaniv bent down, studying the foul discoloured eruptions on Tegh’s body intently. ‘There’s a slim chance of his survival based on what the ancient texts have said,’ Tan finally said. ‘On the mountaintops here grows a rare herb called Jogi Badshah—the king of plants of the Yogis.’
‘I’ll go,’ said Yaniv, as Tan described the herb: a six-inch-high rare plant found at elevatio
ns above 13,000 feet. Its red-purple flowers blossomed in September and October. ‘It was an ancient cure for snakebites. But we have to hurry. There’s no time.’ Yaniv nodded, pressed the control on his wristband, which activated the antigravity belt for a Space Jump, and flew off in a flash.
After what seemed like aeons, Yaniv returned, having been successful in his mission. We all hurried to make a paste, as Tan tore his robe to make a poultice with the herb. Yaniv wrapped Tegh’s body in it. He crushed the root and poured the sap into Tegh’s mouth as Tan sat in a meditative pose and chanted mantras intently from an ancient text that he said was the Garuda Tantra—the almanac on snakebites and how to expel the poison. But nothing happened.
In desperation, Tan said, ‘Ky(Q)om’s venom has travelled to the heart and even though it had been neutralized by the antidote, the heart muscle is paralyzed. The text says that the Garuda Tantra is the concentrated power of the five winds. We need to give him the vital rescue Life Breath.’ I nodded and started doing chest compressions on Tegh, followed by two rescue breaths. For a second, I felt a faint pulse and frantically continued pressing his chest. ‘1 . . . 2 . . . 3. 1 . . . 2 . . . 3,’ I mumbled, as my tears fell down on him.
Suddenly, I saw his body heave as his breathing resumed. Tegh’s heart had restarted.
‘YES!’ Yaniv whooped, while Hafiz and Tan embraced each other.
The boils seemed to melt and disappear on his body, and Tegh slowly opened his eyes. The vital compressions and rescue Life Breath had helped in kick-starting his heart.
‘A near-death situation is not what it is cracked up to be. Thrice-born Doc Yaniv, how much do I have to pay you?’ Tegh whispered weakly.
Yaniv deadpanned, ‘No charge. Going forward, just eat the Triphala supplement.’ He laughed. ‘But you should thank Doctor Dawn who gave you the rescue breath.’
Dawn Page 15
