Dawn

by Rakesh K Kaul

  ‘Dushita is a director who understands the arts. He’s confident. He exudes power. Everyone who meets him wants to be him,’ Tabah said, as everyone peered to look at the handsome face on the relief fragment. ‘He spread the desirability of death into society by glamorizing it. He is also a trickster. He misused the saying, “If you meet the Buddha on the road, kill him”. What was meant was that nothing should distract one’s mind, not even the appearance of Buddha. Gullible people who fell for Dushita did not understand that it was metaphorical and not literal. They took it literally and killed all the enlightened humans.’

  ‘Yes,’ Tan nodded ruefully. ‘Mara was next seen by humans when he appeared as Satan. Again, he was temptation and death.’

  Muttering ‘Satan’ under his breath, Yaniv tracked the evolution of death on his system. ‘Death accelerated at the turn of the second millennium, and by 2020, one person was dying a violent death every twenty seconds. It went up exponentially as humans engaged with addictive technology. Young men and women were especially at risk. By 2050, it says here, it had become a global epidemic: “Dushita-inspired violence becoming the number one cause of death”. By the year 3000, as we all know, Dushita was supreme.’ Looking up from his system, he said, ‘What we did to AIman and Arman will not be forgiven by him. He is coming for us.’

  ‘Dushita knows infinite ways to slay us,’ Tegh said, taking a sip from his herbal tea. He had still not healed completely after his encounter with Ky(Q)om. ‘None of our senses or mental faculties can identify him. We don’t know who he is or what form he is in or what form he can take. What we do know, however,’ he said, wincing as he tried to sit up, ‘is that Dushita cannot send his daughters against us as he had with the Buddha. There’s none left. He will come himself.’

  ‘But how do we defend and protect ourselves against an unknown?’ asked Yaniv frantically, moving his fingers rapidly on his system.

  ‘There is a way,’ Tan spoke. ‘Maybe,’ he added, as he saw everyone looking up at him, their eyes hopeful. Taking a pause to read some unusual ancient paper texts, he suggested the way forward, ‘I have researched that there is a place in the Valley where the holder has foreknowledge or as we say premonition. It is the practice of Brahas Katha Vuchin where we can know what is in our future from an ancient text that a teacher by the name of Bhrigu wrote. The unknown becomes known there.’

  ‘Then let us head over there. That’s our way forward,’ I said, standing up.

  There was a sign on the entrance: Anything can happen.

  Tan had brought us to the location mentioned in the texts called the Adhbuta House. Tan beckoned me to enter. I found myself in a room with probably a thousand crooked mirrors. In them, I saw a hologram with a million reflections of a man staring next to a text. He greeted me without turning his head, ‘Salutation, rising Dawn, destiny’s child. I have waited for you.’

  I was surprised. ‘How do you know me?’

  ‘Why, I know everything that will happen. You are here because of Dushita.’

  I asked tensely, ‘Will Dushita win and will I die?’

  ‘You will certainly die. Everyone dies. Dushita may lose as he has before, or he may win. Anything is possible.’

  I was trembling. The man’s voice was devoid of passion, of emotion. It made all the things he said sound terrifyingly eerie. ‘Can you . . . can you guide me?’

  ‘Why, yes, of course! That is why people come to see me. I will tell you exactly how your story will play out.’

  He began his story.

  ‘Once upon a time, more than two thousand years ago, there was a girl around your age who possibly had a stroke that paralyzed her. Given the times, her people gave her various names for she was the one whose body was hunched or as they said, Kubjika. This girl encountered someone by the name of Bhairava who was touched by her plight and gave her hope. Bhairava told the girl that she must attain the personal power that is beyond all limitations. And then, he disappeared. He told her that anything is possible.

  All that this girl could do physically, and that too with great difficulty after her life-changing event, was to breathe. She did that one-pointedly. Oh wonders! Did she figure out the mystery of life that her vital breath had hidden within it? The power of her breath turned her into a charismatic communicator, and soon she gained great powers. She became venerated as a local energy source. Her lore travelled from the Western Himalaya to Goa and then on to Kashmir where it bloomed. She emerged as the most powerful force in the eyes of the initiated. So powerful that she was kept a total secret by the Yodhas. Even as they suffered continuous genocide over 700 years, they did not reveal her secrets. There were only mysterious whisperings of her existence and she was merely referred to as the Secret Force.’

  ‘Then what happened to her?’ I asked, anxious.

  ‘Why! She was rediscovered among the Newars, the indigenous people of Kathmandu, Nepal, a thousand years later. She was worshipped exclusively by the Nepali royalty, the bravest warriors of the world.’

  ‘How . . . what did she look like? What was her power? I do not understand . . .’

  ‘She is described as of slender build, and her dark, almost blue, skin shining. Kubjika uniquely personifies fertile creativity. She is the creative power of potent possibility that lies beyond the mind, what makes anything possible. For the last thousand years, brave warriors who were at the greatest risk of being injured or death, sought protection in secret from this goddess whose loving gift was that of confidence in the potential of possibility. Any handicap only made one differently enabled.’

  That was the end of this strange man’s story.

  ‘Who . . . who are you?’ I asked this eccentric person.

  ‘I am a Granthika, the last of the storyteller scientists, a chronicler of akhyana stories and the ancient tales that hold the Niti secret. Everyone who comes here thinks that their story is unique, but the truly unique stories are all in here. I know all the plots, the emotions and most importantly, the endings. Yet, people mistake me for an astrologer,’ he said, turning to look at me.

  He was blind!

  ‘Why . . . why stories?’ I asked, recovering from the shocking revelation and trying not to stare at his face being reflected in the million mirrors.

  ‘Because we are all stories. The grand stories are the ones that awaken and harmonize whole societies.’

  ‘Did Dushita not have the same goal? How are Niti stories different from Dushita’s stories?’

  ‘The two are totally different. Dushita’s stories are about temptation and death. Niti is about life. Dushita’s technique is about rules, dos and don’ts, good girl-bad girl, rewards and punishments. Niti stories are about making you a better human through purification of what you want by you, for you. The Niti technique is entertainment, education, empowerment and enabling, which leads to self-ignition. There is death in one and dance in the other; prohibition in one and permission in the other. Niti’s goal is harmony with one’s Self, which is the only way to peace and happiness. When individuals are in harmony with themselves, then and only then, society is in harmony. The Niti story that wins is the key to human harmony.’

  ‘How do I find this Niti story that wins?’ I pleaded.

  His multiple figures approached me. ‘Arise Dawn, the Niti warrior. It is time to manifest.’ I walked up to the mirror in the front, where he seemed to materialize as I neared it. Taking a small plate in his hand that had suddenly appeared next to his ancient text, he dabbed his fingers on a red paste. For a man who was blind, he could see everything it seemed. He applied a tilak on my forehead and asked me look into a pan of melted ghee that too had appeared miraculously next to the text without me noticing. ‘What do you see?’

  ‘A pair of earrings.’

  He smiled, put his hands inside the ghee and voila, out came the earrings. ‘It was Queen Kota Rani’s dejhoor, the magical earrings that every married Kashmiri woman wears,’ he said, as if he could see my puzzled expression. ‘Before you face Dushita
, go to the Amarnath cave where you will find the story that wins. It is the greatest story of all,’ he said, looking into my eyes. ‘The story by knowing which one need not know any other.’

  I nodded. He seemed to know everything, for he continued after a pause.

  ‘But what is critical is that you carry only your mace with you and discard everything else and everyone else on the way. Enter the cave on the dark night of the upcoming twelfth month of the year.’ As cryptically as he had begun, he stopped talking.

  Leave everything? My friends . . . and Yuva! I was too stunned and too overcome with emotions to ask anything else. I couldn’t even feel a thing. It was as if my soul was leaving my body. Even as I steadied my breathing, I knew in my heart that it was coming. It always had. Mother had warned me. I just did not know how and when.

  I bowed to the Granthika and turned to leave. As I was leaving, I turned my head to say goodbye. Except for the ancient text with an anthology of the world’s unique stories in it, there was nothing there. The storyteller and the mirrors had vanished. Only the words of his story remained.

  The Pandavas had become very uneasy and quiet after my meeting with the Granthika. The idea that I would have to leave them forever and enter a strange cave was unacceptable to them. But something made me feel that he could be trusted. I knew it was gut-wrenching, but I had to do this. The last leg of my journey was to be undertaken alone.

  ‘Amazing things you find when you bother to search for them,’ Tan eventually said, tears in his eyes. ‘There are so many stories that have come before us. If stories have existed for a long time, then it is for us to avail of them. If Dawn is the only one equipped to seek the story that wins, then Yuva’s reason to select her to lead us is now revealed.’ He bowed to me. I quickly turned as hot tears started streaming down my eyes. I did not want the boys to see me like this. I wiped my face and steadied myself.

  When I turned, all five of my friends, the Pandavas were on their knees, their heads bowing and their hands folded in namaskaram.

  After some days, the Pandavas and I left for Amarnath. To my great joy, we were joined by Yuva. Surprisingly, he was alone this time and he told us that this time, I would be the guide and he would follow me. When asked about Kira, he simply replied that I would see her soon.

  Winter had now covered the Valley in its fold. There was snow everywhere. But the mace on its own was our guide, cutting a pathway for us. It led us with a sense of anticipation as if it was homeward bound. We soon reached a river. The banks, the trees and the stones there were all covered in white snow. But amazingly, the water still flowed with a loud gurgling sound. Yuva playfully inhaled the cold water with his trunk and then sprinkled me with it. The Pandavas laughed.

  I screamed, my face freezing. ‘Stop, stop! Why Yuva?’

  ‘Why not?’ Yuva said. ‘This river is named Lamboodri or Lidder after me. The sound you hear is my Bheema Garbha—a celebratory song for you. You defeated AIman and the evil Arman because of Niti. I sprinkle this water on you to wish you well.’ My face turned pink at this high honour. It had not been too long ago when I had been an ignorant and terrified pupil of his.

  We continued our trek through the high snow reaching a spot that Tan said was Bel Gaon. It was my first heartbreak point. I told Tegh that this is where we would have to part. ‘Tegh, you are the bravest and the most fearless friend that I’ve had in my life.’ With his brawny arms crossed across his chest, he accepted my decision, his eyes misty with tears. We shook hands like warriors and then hugged each other goodbye. The rest of the boys saluted him. ‘Don’t forget to keep reading,’ said Hafiz as a parting shot, but unlike the other times, it was tearfully painful.

  The rest of us proceeded further and reached Chandanwari. It was time again. ‘Dear, dear Tabah! What can I say? You are so different and yet so much like me. Without you, I would have never succeeded. You risked your life by living in the lion’s den.’ Tears came to Tabah’s eyes, flowing freely down his cheeks. With an actor’s practised flourish, he bowed to us. Cupping my face with his gentle hands, he kissed me on my forehead and bid me goodbye and left.

  Then came Sheshnag Lake and it was time I parted with Hafiz. ‘Hafiz, your mind left me in awe. Your knowledge can change the world. But never forget me, will you?’ He turned his face away with lips compressed, nodding his head at us, saying he was going to be okay. He started to walk away, but then he turned, ‘Dawn, there is no limit to scientific and technological knowledge, but you showed me that the world and ultimately life is the supreme teacher.’ I ran to him and pressed my hands in his tightly.

  At Mahagunas Top, Yuva stopped me. ‘What happened?’ I asked him. ‘Won’t you accompany me up on our ascent?’ But he shook his head, ‘My father left me here and I can go no further. Goodbye Dawn, my Niti warrior princess.’

  ‘Yuva . . .’ I felt that I would collapse. Never did I think that in our journey, he would leave me midway. ‘Yuva, after my mother, you have made me who I am. What will I do without you?’ I cried openly. ‘Will . . . will I ever see you again?’

  ‘I am always with you, my child. I told you that I am music. You will hear me as sound, in the flowing river, in the conch, in the bell . . .’ he said, winking, and tapping his trunk on my head like old times.

  This made me laugh. I embraced him. ‘Thank you, my supreme teacher. You always found a way through every obstacle that I faced.’ Wiping my tears, I whispered, ‘Goodbye, my kick-starter.’

  It was only the three of us now who trekked through the mighty valley and then up the mountainside that was covered with high snow. We had to use our antigravity belts now to float up, the blue flames invisible in the white ice. We were silent most times as none had the heart to speak. After what seemed like hours at a stretch, we reached Panchtarni. ‘I know, I know, it’s my turn,’ Yaniv said with a sad laugh. ‘I will miss this humour when I am alone, Yaniv, and your delicious food,’ I added, smiling. ‘You always made us feel happy. My thrice-born doctor, you were so caring of us. It was all part of your oath and you fulfilled it.’

  ‘Dawn,’ he said, taking my hand, ‘If I have been of help and truly made you smile, then I have done my duty. Your love merely reaffirms what was from my side. I am always at your service.’ And so, Yaniv walked away.

  It was only Tan and I now. The trek had become impossible at this point and we were slowly floating up the hill. I had reached the entrance to a cave. ‘Amarnath,’ said Tan, as we looked at the all-white expanse. The peaks were jutting high into the sky with the white mantle reflecting brightly. And so, it was time for the last heartbreak. ‘Tan, what can I even say that you don’t know already? Your depth of wisdom, positivity and calm has carried me to the final ascent. Without you, I am now left alone.’ He only smiled at me. Saluting me with his hands folded, he simply said, ‘It was you who taught me many things that books cannot teach, Dawn. You showed me that the power of love will triumph over the love of power. I salute Maha inside you. Namaskar, Dawn.’ Then he walked away as I stood at the mouth of the cave, silently mourning the loss of all my friends. The only friends that I ever had.

  I snapped on Kota Rani’s dejhoor and prepared to enter the cave. The dejhoor were a part of me just like my mace, Yuva had explained as I’d told him about the last teacher. I braced myself and walked in. It was terribly dark and damp and I was suddenly anxious, but I walked in fuelled by the desire to find the way to face the evilness of Dushita, armed with the memories of my friends, my mother and the stories that I now carried inside me. Inside, I found on the ground the skin of a black antelope. I placed the mace in front of me and sat on the antelope skin. Outside, the temperature was a frigid minus 20 degrees, but inside, it was a little warmer.

  I saw two white pigeons on the rafters. The female snuggled to the left side of the male and watched me intently. There was a light coming from her eyes that was more intense than any lamp could produce. She reminded me of Kira a lot. Pigeons were the first birds that humans had domesticated, my
mother had once told me. It now seemed like it had happened years ago—a distant past. I wondered if they were the pets of whoever had lived in the cave. Sitting there, somehow, I felt that I had come home. Amarnath cave gave me the same feeling that I had when I was growing up in the sanctuary cave in Kailash. I wondered whether there was any connection.

  I composed myself and focused. I had renounced everything and sought guidance on how to face Dushita. There was nothing but silence. The female pigeon watched me attentively. I was all alone in the world. There was nobody else—man, woman or child. My mind melted like a snowflake as thoughts disappeared. I waited and waited for a signal, but nothing was forthcoming. If Maha was there, I did not see him. Then it hit me. The brave front that I had put on while saying goodbye to Yuva and the Pandavas finally gave way. I was alone in the world, no, alone in the Universe. What would happen to me? To the world? I broke down and wept out of desperation, knowing that Dushita awaited me outside. My chest heaved with emotions. My tears became the offering to Maha. I felt myself melting as I cried in a state of complete dissolution, which I thought would cause me to collapse. Slowly, I managed to steady my heavy sobs. My mind had stilled, and the toxicity of my anxiety washed out. I felt better and was ready to go out and finally, aggressively confront Dushita.

  Then my eyes fell on the mace that my mother had given me. It had the name Usha engraved on it. I was reminded of what my mother had told me. The mace is now bonded with you. You can will it to come to you in your hour of need. But give it freedom and don’t overthink for it. It knows its Dharma quite well. The mace had come to me. Yuva had told me that I could have any name that I wanted. And so, I, Dawn, decided my future name.