Dawn

by Rakesh K Kaul

  Usha, the life of life and the death of death.

  Sarga 16

  Innerverse

  Nishat Bagh, Srinagar

  I sat in the great Samadhi posture concentrating on the Dushitacharya temple from my vantage point above Ishber at the residence of Gopi Krishna, the sage scientist whose writings my mother had shared with me. I could see Suaresvara Lake below. There was an energy there that was palpable. Gopi Krishna had meditated there and given great discourses. The amazing story of Lila that mother had shared with me as to how to face Dushita gave me strength. I had seated myself inside a circular mandala with mustard seeds scattered around it. My left hand rested in my lap, palm facing upward. The right hand rested on my right knee, fingers dropping downward. The faint light of dawn raced across the sky, chased by the sun. Where my concentration would be, there would be formation, Yuva had trained me.

  There was a slight movement. A figure started descending from the temple. He was flowing down the slope of the hill. The birds and sound of animals became still, the wind rose as if approaching to listen, the sun went into nothingness as if to consider what had been taught and the shadows grew longer as if stretching their necks to watch.

  He came closer.

  In his one eye, there was anger and in the other eye, attachment. His forehead bore the seal of a dog’s paw that had been burnt deeply in. Yet, he carried the glow of wisdom and the perfection of beauty made even more desirable by the scar. His face had a cherubic smile. Living on top of Dushitacharya Hill, he was in Eden, on the holy mountain of the supreme. Every precious stone was in his covering—ruby, topaz, diamond, beryl, onyx, jasper, lapis lazuli, turquoise, emerald and, lastly, gold. But topping off his turban, where the bun of his hair was coiled on the left side, was a giant sapphire. As he walked and approached me, a carpet unfolded in front of him. It was a carpet of stones of fire on which he stepped firmly, the stones sizzling amid the snow and ice.

  If Dushita was unrighteousness, then how could everything about him be so right? I thought. He seemed blameless. He seated himself across from me on top of the red-hot coals. Then I spotted his slightly open mouth with a leer and there was his mark, the fangs. I knew he was formless and that it was only his projection into my mind that was giving him his image.

  ‘Usha,’ his voice boomed but was eerily calm. ‘Prepare to hate yourself—the greatest punishment.’ He was singularly abrupt.

  ‘I am not afraid of you.’

  ‘There is no you. I am within you.’

  ‘An impurity, an accident of birth.’

  ‘Your impurity knows you better than you know yourself.’

  ‘My impurity will be expelled.’

  He was haughty and dismissive. ‘Nobody achieves that level of purity.’

  But I was resolute, the memory of my mother, my friends and Yuva reeling inside me. ‘Those who unite with Maha do.’

  ‘Maha is the great lie. It does not exist.’

  I laughed. ‘Maha lies beyond you. I will find Maha, for my will is supreme.’

  ‘Your will, little girl?’ he sneered. ‘Desire is me.’ His laugh echoed as the mountains joined in.

  ‘Then my only thought will be to renounce desire.’

  ‘Desire can be emptied out, but I will fill it up repeatedly.’

  ‘Not if one’s last desire is Maha. Just like Bala.’

  ‘Fools’ gold!’ he thundered. ‘Look at me,’ he commanded. ‘I am your last desire.’ Suddenly, his voice became calm, business-like, a soothing poison. ‘Prepare to die.’

  I was not prepared to lose after losing so much. ‘No,’ I said simply, ‘You look at me. I am justice for all the women you have hurt since the dawn of history.’

  This was it. I waited for him to act. I waited and waited and waited.

  Then finally, he spoke, irritably, for what felt like hours and hours had passed by. ‘It seems that you have no karma. I cannot kill you. Never mind, you scheming girl, you will not escape a living death.’

  ‘I have no karma, but you do. I am the death of death.’

  He smirked, ‘I have paralyzed you and erased your memory, imagination and conception. There is no movement left in you. There is thus no Time for you. You are now in a suspended state of animation and will remain disconnected until you run out of energy.’

  I had just started to panic when I remembered my last teacher, the blind storyteller who had told me about Kubjika and Bhairava. Exhale, inhale, exhale. All that I could do was breathe like Kubjika. Everything else was paralyzed. All I could do was to breathe to the rhythm of Namah, Namah, Namah, not mine, not mine, not mine . . .

  Time left me untouched with Dushita as my internal witness. The snow fell and a blizzard howled as the winter got harsher. I was my own prisoner and there was nothing that I could do.

  Dushita whispered inside me, his voice tempting like a sweet fruit, ‘Little girl, you do have a choice. Join me. Focus on the right side of your spinal cord at the base of the spine, where your back hurts. The harder you concentrate, the more your heat energy will rise. When the temperature of your base matches mine, we will unite.’

  I tried to block his voice, but he got in, now soothing like the koori lullaby.

  ‘You will be the first woman to become the centre of the Universe, brighter than the blazing sun. What Maha has withheld from humanity since the creation of the Universe will become yours because of me.’

  I blinked mentally. The liar with honey on his forked tongue was trapped in his own web of deceit. So, Maha did exist.

  ‘Your canine teeth give you away. Your promises are all for after-death. With Maha, it is all while alive. I will stand with him.’

  Having been exposed, he fell silent and his chatter ceased.

  I rested my mind instead on the left side of my spine. And continued to breathe. Time sped by carrying the spinning planets, galaxies, black holes and universes along with it, but Dushita and I were unyielding and immovable.

  I had now shrivelled into a stick. My breath was getting weaker and had slowed to a point that it did not even reveal itself as a foggy mist. My body turned into cold ash barely held by my now-ancient body suit, which was vainly trying to keep me stable and warm. I had turned into a ghost in the wintry waste.

  My open left hand’s wrist was on the wrist of the open right-hand, seeking grace as it rested in my lap. Slowly, my right hand, now weakened and shrunken fell and touched the earth. It encountered firmness in the touch of Bheema Garbha; there was a small movement, something stirred, a cool current seemed to flow from the left side into the central channel of my spinal cord. It had a healing aspect to it as it released the burning sensation that I used to feel. Inside my body, I heard the anahad vibrations with their deep sonorous sound. It was Yuva! And it was then that I heard it . . . Kira’s song:

  Look to this day!

  For it is life, the very life of life.

  There was a snapping sound of ignition as if Yuva was moving inside me. A silver streak zigzagged through my spinal cord. It was exactly like the graceful movement of a white serpent in rapid flight, a veritable helix DNA that was reminiscent of Patanjali’s serpent pouring a radiant, cascading shower of brilliant vital energy into my brain, filling my head with a blissful shine in place of the flame that had been tormenting me. It spread like a tonic through my vital organs, pumping my pulse.

  All my memory, thought, imagination and conception returned but vastly expanded with the touch of Prana, the Life Breath that creates all.

  My excited mind went into ecstasy, and unfortunately, that took my concentration away from the left of my spine. It was enough distraction for Dushita to fight back. He attacked viciously, his burning red flame singeing Yuva and blackening his silver stream. As Yuva fell back, I could feel myself relapsing into a coma from which I could not hope to recover.

  With my last breath, I cried out, ‘Ma! Maej!’

  The whistle of a bird sounded. My Life Breath had rebounded. There was a sound of a million bees co
ming to meet a ray of light. There was a roar of a waterfall and a stream of liquid light as my Life Breath rushed up and entered my brain. It crossed out of my skull through the kalaposh cap and began to expand into a circle. The waves of light expanded outwards while my body became smaller, and the oceanic waves carried me out further and beyond. I was aware of every point in the Universe without any inputs from my sensory organs. I was no longer conscious that my body existed. I had expelled Dushita.

  I had become one with Maha!

  But Dushita was not finished. With a shriek, the red streak that was him dashed out of me and arched straight into the lake.

  A loud voice crackled, ‘Usha, know that I, in the form of Jalodbhava, was born here in the water. I have the triple boon of magical powers, unparalleled prowess and immortality in the water. I will be back inside you forever since more than half of you is water. I, the flesh-eater, will finish all, you included.’

  In response, the silver streak above me grew and grew. It took the form of a mighty serpent with a raised hood of 1,008 heads, each wearing a crown. He had the lustre of the full moon. He was dressed in blue, his diadem fastened in gold. He had a plough that seemed to have the faces of the ancient gods. With it, he broke the mountain. The icy water in the lake flowed out with force through the opening. There was a terrifying rush and sound as the waves overflowed the lower peaks.

  With the water receding, Dushita in the form of Jalodbhava was uncovered and no longer immortal. But he was not done. He saw the disappearing water, and so, he darkened the sun and the moon so that he could not be visible. His magical powers came from his paradox bombs—the viruses—but then suddenly, Kira appeared in the sky. She was highly excited and her sharp whistles filled the expanse. She dove to the ground, picked up a pebble and flew straight up. Dushita saw her and rose into the sky to stop her. But Kira flew higher and Dushita followed her into the sky, growing effortlessly and unboundedly. Then, when Kira was no more than a dot in empty space, she turned and dropped the pebble. It fell quietly, but as it fell, it expanded in size. Dushita let out a roar and raised his fists to smite away the pebble, which had now turned into a rock. The rock now grew into a meteor and was expanding at a fierce rate. When it smashed into Dushita, it was the size of a huge mountain. It crushed his manifestation into smithereens, every single particle of his being penetrating deep inside the earth.

  I witnessed it all.

  First came the rumble of the earthquake, then my awareness picked up the sound of hideous blasts of the earth smashing into itself. Then, the tortuous cries of animals, then the screaming and moaning of the wind as it was twisted and contorted beyond Nature’s laws. And then the neutrinos and anti-neutrinos buried deep inside the earths’ crust were unleashed by the touch of Dushita’s smashed death particles. Unlimited quantities streamed out as earth’s natural nuclear fusion accelerated. From generating 24 terawatts of heat and energy, the number doubled and then tripled and multiplied rampantly thereafter. Soon, the entire earth became a raging ball of radioactive fire. The cascading number of outcomes and a rise in temperature caused Planck’s constant wall to be hit. Planck’s constant was the determinate of action, the energy of a photon divided by its frequency. The frequency crossed gamma rays and with the rise in energy continued to rise exponentially.

  I experienced it all.

  In the darkness emerged a five-headed, ten-armed and three-eyed being. One eye was the light of the sun, the second eye was the lustre of the moon and the third eye was the flame of fire. He started to dance amidst the inferno, a dark form that filled the ten directions accompanied by a cosmic sound. From his body arose the black shadow of Kaalaratri. The shadow became the Planckian black hole, sucking my dead body with the mangled remains of Dushita’s Jalodbhava. Then went the planets, the sun, the galaxies and other black holes.

  Kaalaratri grew smaller, spiralled into a particle, then an atom and finally disappeared. My awareness went with it. Dushita was slain. Nothing remained. The Sarvanash Great War was over. There was no light, no time and no space.

  The universes had become the sound of Mahashanti, great peace.

  AUM. AUM. AUM.

  Sarga 17

  Resurrection

  Anno Usha 11

  Daughter Universe

  The storytelling hour was over.

  I was in the nursery with my five blessings! The youngest one was nestled next to me, clutching my hand with her tiny fingers. Some parts of my story were scary for the younger children, and some parts they would fully understand only once they were grown up. The Grimms’ Fairy Tales, a few drawn from the Kathasaritsagara, were grim indeed for a very good reason. My story was to teach our children that even if the most terrible evil befell them, within the safety of their nursery, they would come out alive as a winner and live happily ever after. But for that they had to follow the Niti way, the way of the wise conduct in life.

  All I could tell them about the last moment for me was that, biologically, I had been reduced to mere Life Breath, which became space within space. Then the Life Breath’s imagination conceived it to be contained inside something physical, and so, the breath energy became mass and acquired a body with Life Energy. It then acquired time, a virtual pre-history, such as parents, age and so on, and thus the movement began. Whatever I imagined in detail became real. It was interesting and not surprising to me that my name Usha had in my previous birth and world morphed into Easter, which was the greatest resurrection story ever.

  My rebirth began with the first activity of this rebooted form. My last wish—a dohada—when I clipped on the dejhoor earrings had been that I would be ‘creation’, just as my mother had wished for me. It was the one attachment that I had not cast away before entering the cave, and yet, Maha had understood. Or was it Kira?

  So, I was reborn along with a new Universe, or correctly, a Daughter Universe. My heroine in the stories that maej had told me had always been Draupadi. So, it was natural that I selected the Pandavas to be alongside me. They were part of my life and I felt responsible for them in the same way that they had felt responsible for me. I trusted my feelings and let them guide me. I must have inherited this trait from my mother who had done what she believed in, and in the end, my mother had won. United Life triumphed over United Intelligence! And I had become part of the story that had won.

  In my new world, I choose to restart life at the point that we had assembled in Ishber. I choose Ishber because I was Kashmir. There was no rule to restart as a newborn baby. There was no compulsion to follow anyone else’s resurrection story, especially the ones inventing false dying, judgements and heaven or hell. I became the programmer of my own dream and did not bend to the rules of some male fossil that had come before me. And yes, in my programme, Muladeva and his wife became part of us also because he is such good company.

  What I have done here is to provide an accurate biological description of my experience to my descendants so that they would have the roadmap of the innerverse. I experienced death, but all along, I stayed stubbornly and one-pointedly aware of what was happening to me because the knower of the world cannot match the knower of the Self.

  I am no longer blind to Maha. There is still a silvery lustre, a glow to every entity that I see. It took me a long time to realize that it was a projection of the pure, awakened Life Breath radiance that is within me.

  It is not just science seeking truth that is evolving but also the human brain. It will take enlightened scientists of the Usha race thousands of years to completely figure out what had happened to me spontaneously: The gift of the experience of the death of death coming from the life of life, which is Maha realization. Maha gave me the gift of being a creator and the power of making anything possible. But what I got is also everyone else’s birthright to choose—a birthright to expand and realize that Maha is us.

  The future Truth Keepers will be the Life Story Scientists. They will reveal with greater clarity, the mysteries of the miracle that is life in its totality. Thes
e life story scientists will entertain, educate, empower and enable ignition the way the Granthikas did. What my own life story did teach me is that a woman or a man is her or his sole friend or enemy. We are responsible for what happens to us because of our desires, thoughts and actions. One should be dispassionate, and if one is passionate, then in each action one should first purify one’s desire because that is where Dushita resides. The glide path of purification is the willing path of an increasing freedom and acceptance leading to complete fulfilment.

  My oldest son sleepily asked me, ‘Ma, who is Maha?’

  Children ask the most difficult questions, which need simple but honest answers. I repeated what I had been told, ‘For now, think that he is my true father who permitted me to be me, gave me the right to have unbounded experience.’

  ‘And who was Kira?’

  ‘She is Maej, the mother of all.’

  That satisfied him for the moment and then he continued, ‘If there are no rules in life, then what is Niti?’

  ‘The Niti warrior’s way of life is so simple yet so powerful. You will get all you want from learning deeply, acting bravely but kindly, and having five very close friends.’ I smiled.

  “It is that simple. No rules?’

  “It is that simple. You make your own rules.’

  ‘Are there any more Niti stories?’

  ‘Yes, there are thousands of amazing Niti stories.’

  ‘Good,’ my little girl said. ‘I want to hear them all. Also, I want Yuva as one of my five friends.’

  ‘Your wish will come true.’

  ‘And I want the mace also.’

  ‘It will come on its own to you when the time is right.’

  ‘And I want your dejhoor too.’

  I laughed and cradled her in my lap and sang the koori lullaby. My daughter wanted it all. It was so with my mother, and so, it is with me now.

  ‘Zuv vandmaye. My life is yours,’ I whispered.