“So these priests and preachers will curse God?”
Krishna shakes his head. “They will praise him. They will grow hoarse praising him.”
“But isn’t that good? Doesn’t God value worship?”
Krishna looks at the man who questions him. “Your name is Arun, is it not?”
“Yes, Maharaj. Arun of the Maravar family.”
“Are you married, Arun? Do you have children?”
“Yes, Maharaj. Two boys and two girls.”
“Do you need their praise?”
“No, but I enjoy their love. I love them. They are the reason I am here fighting.”
“That’s a fine reason to do anything. But just as you don’t need your children’s praise, God does not care for or need praise. He wants only that his children should grow to know him. In the same way you want your children to grow up and be kind and thoughtful like you, Arun.”
The man blushes. “I hope they turn out better than me, Maharaj.”
“I am confused,” another man says. “You say the best way for us to discover the soul is to repeat your holy name aloud and then in silence. Are you not asking to be worshipped?”
“Krishna is not my name,” Krishna says. “Krishna is a sound that resonates with the inner body, which helps lead you to your spirit. Take the ‘Kri’ syllable. Repeat it attentively and you will notice it can be felt in your forehead. The last syllable, ‘Na,’—repeat it long enough and you will begin to feel a warmth in your heart. The sound ‘Shh’ connects the two. So ‘Krishna’ is a practical sound that connects our head and heart. And when the two come together, when your mind ceases to fight what you’re feeling, peace blossoms inside.” Krishna stops. “That’s why you repeat that word.”
“But, Maharaj, everyone calls you Krishna.”
Krishna chuckles. “Because I give the same sound to everyone.”
The man who spoke first interrupts. “I still don’t understand what the lights in the sky are.”
Krishna is reluctant to respond. “They are vimanas.”
“What are vimanas?”
Krishna points his stick at the sky. “I have explained how the stars are like our sun and have worlds circling them like this world. But what you don’t know is that most of the people on other worlds are older than you. Before the first plant poked its way out of this ground, there were wise people in the star worlds. I say ‘wise’ because they were old even then. Over time they have learned much, and they continue to learn, which brings them closer and closer to the one who makes the stars shine.”
“Are you speaking of God, Maharaj?”
Krishna shrugs. “The word ‘God’ means too many things to too many different people. Let’s call it the Essence—the source of all things. Then let us imagine a race of people a million years old or even a hundred million years old. Think how close they would have grown to this Essence.”
Arun speaks shyly. “Maharaj, are you one of these people? Do you know the Essence?”
“I am the Essence,” Krishna says softly.
Arun gasps. “Is that why the vimanas move in our skies? Do they come to worship you?”
Krishna smiles at the man’s choice of words. It’s as though the man has not heard a word Krishna has said. “I just told you, even as we struggle on the field of battle, a greater battle is being fought above. Some vimanas fight for light, others for darkness. Both sides know Kali Yuga will come when I leave this world.”
Arun sighs. “Leave, Maharaj? Where will you go?”
“When this body dies I will return to the stars.”
Krishna’s words move me. My eyes burn. The group falls silent.
Yet the man who first asked about the lights in the sky is dissatisfied. “Maharaj, if you know the people who command the vimanas, could you not order them to help us fight?” he asks.
Krishna shakes his head. “No.”
“Why not?” the man demands.
“The future should never mingle with the past. The old cannot be allowed to harm the young.”
“But our enemies are killing us,” the man protests. “We need help.”
“The vimanas are to play no part in your fight.”
It’s obvious the man is not happy with Krishna’s answer. “They must be here for a reason,” he grumbles.
“I have given you a reason,” Krishna says.
The meeting is over. Krishna gestures that he wants to be left alone. Quickly, I run back the way I have come, not stopping until I have reached the woods where the Kauravas are camped. A few of the men know me and are happy to see me. Calling me Kunti, they offer me a place to rest by one of their fires. The spot is isolated, which suits me fine. I curl up near the dying embers and wonder if that is the last time I will see Krishna in my life. It was hard to hear him talk about his own death.
I’m dozing when suddenly I realize two people stand nearby. In a single movement I’m on my feet, ready to kill if necessary. Before I strike, though, I see one is the man who kept pestering Krishna about the vimanas. The other is Duryodhana, king of the Kauravas. The first man holds a metal box. Duryodhana holds a sword pointed at my chest.
“Are you sure it’s her?” Duryodhana asks the man.
“She’s the one. She’s not human. She can do it.”
“What do you want?” I demand of Duryodhana.
“I have a task for you,” he says.
“Why should I help you?” I snap.
Duryodhana nods to the man, who turns a round knob on top of his box. I hear a sound. At first it’s faint, but unpleasant, almost like a silent screech. It quickly grows in volume and power, piercing my ears, sending waves of pain through my head. Yet it doesn’t appear to affect the men. I feel the noise in the nerves of my teeth. The pain is overwhelming.
“Stop!” I cry.
Duryodhana nods to the man, who turns the knob on the metal box in the opposite direction. The noise ceases, the pain stops. Duryodhana takes a step toward me.
“I have no desire to harm you, but you must obey me,” he says.
“What do you want me to do?”
“Follow me and you will see,” Duryodhana says. He turns and walks into the woods, not waiting for my agreement. I walk behind him, the man with the box not far from my back. I consider bolting but I am curious what they are up to. I don’t understand how a simple metal box can generate such a strange sound. I have never been harmed by something that did not touch me. I wonder if I can upset their plans and thereby help the Pandavas win the war.
We walk a long way, far from the battlefield. Duryodhana appears tireless but the man behind me breathes heavily. I don’t understand how he could have tricked Krishna into thinking he was an ally. Yet I recall the peculiar look Krishna gave him beside the campfire and wonder if he was fooled at all.
Eventually we come to a lake where a dozen soldiers are gathered. The full moon shines bright on the water and the men’s faces are clearly visible. I recognize Karna, half brother of the Pandavas. He welcomes Duryodhana but it is clear there is tension between the two. I have noticed it even in battle. Duryodhana is king but Karna is the greater warrior and does not like to be ordered around. Duryodhana points to me as he speaks to Karna.
“This is the one,” Duryodhana says. “If what you say is true, she should be able to repair the damage.”
Karna studies me in the glow of the moon. He is tall, like Arjuna, and their strong faces are much alike. Karna wears his hair short, however, and his dress is plain—leather shorts and boots, a metal breastplate, a sheathed sword that rides his hip. His gaze is serious but not unkind.
“It’s you,” Karna says. “The one who healed me.”
I remain silent. Karna turns to Duryodhana.
“We can’t risk her,” Karna says. “She’s little more than a girl.”
“She is a monster. She is stronger than a dozen men.”
Karna is doubtful. “But she is a nurse . . .”
Duryodhana interrupts in a haughty voice
. “What’s the matter? Are you afraid to put your past-life memories to the test?”
Karna turns back to him. “I know what I know. I have ridden in this type of ship before. In the blink of an eye it can cross the sky. It will take only one to drive Arjuna and his brothers back to Vrindavana.”
Duryodhana speaks harshly. “I don’t want them driven off. I want them destroyed.”
“Their deaths are not necessary for you to remain king,” Karna says.
Duryodhana shakes his head. “Arjuna is proud. Defeat him today but let him live, and he will be back next year, and the year after that. He will never bow to my rule.”
“He is my half brother.”
“He treats you like a bastard! Are you with me or not?”
Karna ignores him and turns to the man with the metal box. “Are you sure you can control her?” he asks.
The man gloats as he holds up the box for the others to see. “She is strong and fast but she has her weaknesses.”
“Walk behind us,” Karna tells him. To me he says, “Come, Kunti. You will find this interesting.”
We take a path that runs along the edge of the lake. Karna walks alone by my side, although soldiers accompany the man with the box. Karna glances over at me from time to time.
“Relax. I don’t bite,” I say.
“So the stories that you live on the blood of the living are lies?”
“Who told you that?”
“Does it matter? Is it true?”
“You shouldn’t believe everything you hear.” I add, “Why do you give your allegiance to a tyrant like Duryodhana?”
“I am my own man. For now, Duryodhana uses me. But I use him as well.”
“Krishna has spoken highly of you.”
Karna suddenly stops. “You know Krishna?”
“We have spoken. Why?”
Karna resumes walking. “It was Krishna who gave me the memories of my past lives. He touched my forehead, between my eyebrows, and I saw a wickless flame burning deep inside. It was a joy to behold and as I stared at it I came to know that I had lived many lives before this one. I saw each life in incredible detail. At times I was a man, other times a woman. I was a father and a mother. I lived in India and occasionally I took birth on other worlds, where every chore is accomplished by machines.”
“What are machines?” I ask.
“A bullock cart is a simple machine. The machines on the star worlds are so complex they can do anything. I only had to tell them what to do and they would do it.”
“The ship you mentioned to Duryodhana. Is it a machine from these star worlds?”
“Yes.”
“Krishna spoke of them. He called them vimanas.”
Karna grows excited. “That’s what we called them in other lives!” He pauses. “You are fortunate that Krishna confides in you. You can’t be the monster that has been described to me.”
“Duryodhana gave me the impression that I’m to enter this vimana.”
Karna nods. “It’s near here but its occupants are all dead.” He pauses. “It fell from the sky.”
“How could it fall if it was built by such a wonderful people?”
Karna is thoughtful. “I am not sure all the vimanas are controlled by saints. Devils fill the sky as well. I believe this vimana was shot down by another vimana.”
“With what kind of weapon?” I ask.
“That’s why you’re here. To put away the weapons aboard this ship. It is the reason we can’t enter it. The weapons must have broken loose when the ship crashed. They give off a strange kind of light. The eye can hardly see it but it’s deadly.” He pauses. “But I have been told it will not be deadly to you.”
“Who told you all these stories about me?” I ask again.
Karna hesitates. “It’s better if I don’t speak of this person. But if you’re afraid to enter the ship, I won’t force you. I know you were brought here against your will. That was not my desire. If you want to leave now I won’t stop you.”
I gesture behind us to the man with the box. “What about him?”
“I’ve been told the sound has to be close to hurt you.”
“Where did the box come from?”
“The vimana.” Karna stops and puts his hands on my shoulders. His touch is warm and affectionate. “I understand if you want to go. But if you can repair the ship, it would mean a great deal to me.”
“Because you’re tired of this world and want to fly back to the star worlds?”
He gazes at me in amazement. “Can you read minds, Kunti?”
“Sita. My real name is Sita. And no, I can’t read your thoughts. But if I had your memories I’d probably have the same wish as you. Alas, all I know is this world. I fear I will be trapped here forever.”
He lets go of me and we resume walking. “Forever, Sita? Perhaps a few things I have heard about you are true. I was told you’re immortal. Or that you can only be killed with great force.”
“I admit I am not easy to kill. But tell me more about the interior of the vimana. Besides the spilled weapons, does the ship have other damage?”
Karna tells me that it does, and he explains what I will have to do to fix it. His instructions are long and detailed and I’m not sure I follow all his words. To me, it seems he sometimes uses phrases that come from the star worlds. They pop out of his mouth when he’s distracted.
He gets distracted whenever he looks at me.
Finally we reach the vimana. It is like a large domed structure built half on the shore, half in the water. At first it appears to be made of metal, but as we draw near it glows with a dull orange light and I imagine it is a huge ball of glass half buried in the ground. I don’t know how much of it sank into the earth when it fell from the sky. There is no door I can see but Karna assures me one will appear when I approach it.
“Do you remember everything I have told you?” he asks as the others halt far back on the path. I imagine the strange metal box cannot harm me at such a distance but I’m loath to flee from such an exciting mystery. It’s hard to look at the ship without also turning my eyes toward the stars. Did it really come from another world? Karna remembers a tremendous amount from his past lives and yet there are many holes in his knowledge.
“I’ll do my best to fix it,” I say.
Karna is uneasy. “I have warned you about the damaged weapons, the dangerous light they give off. It won’t look as threatening as fire but it’s already killed several of Duryodhana’s men who have tried to fix the ship.”
“They died from a light you can hardly see?” I ask, puzzled.
“Yes. When you find a metal container that glows, put it away fast in one of the vaults I have described to you. Whatever you do, don’t hold on to the weapons long.”
“You’re worried. You must have been in this ship yourself.”
Karna turns away and stares at the lake. “For a short time. Then I remembered these dangers from a past life and fled.” He pauses. “I’m a coward.”
“Being cautious doesn’t make you a coward.”
Karna sighs. “But I allowed other men to be sent in after me.”
I snort. “You mean Duryodhana sent them after you. That’s not your fault.”
Karna shakes his head. “A dozen went inside the ship. Six are still inside, dead. The others died after staggering outside.” He turns and grips my shoulders. “I feel as if I have come to know you, Sita. Please tell me that the stories about you are true and the vimana won’t harm you.”
Such a dear man; I touch his face. “I don’t know if it will harm me or not. But I must go inside. Remember, you’re not forcing me. Whatever happens will be my own doing. If I fail to return, don’t blame yourself.”
Karna takes my hand and kisses it. “No, Sita, if you don’t come back, I’ll never forgive myself.” He looks in my eyes. “I wish you would run.”
I smile as I take back my hand and kiss his cheek. “I would rather fly, Karna. Fly to your star worlds.”
Wit
h that I turn and walk toward the vimana.
SIXTEEN
When I open my eyes, Seymour and Matt are sitting in chairs on the other side of the hotel room. “What happened?” I asked.
“You stopped talking fifteen minutes ago,” Matt says.
“I lost contact with your mind then,” Seymour says. “It’s like a wall came up between us.”
“What’s the last thing you heard?” I ask.
“You were walking toward the vimana,” Matt says.
I hang my head. “That’s all I remember.”
Matt stands and stretches. “We’re still missing the most important part. What went on inside the vimana. How does it connect to the Nazis and the veil?”
“But we learned a great deal,” Seymour says. “The metal box Major Klein used to knock Sita out sounds exactly like the box that came from the vimana that crash-landed during the Battle of Kurukshetra.”
“I wonder how the Nazis got ahold of it,” I say.
“Didn’t you see the original Indiana Jones?” Seymour says. “The Nazis were obsessed with finding spiritual artifacts even before the war began. Hitler was more interested in Eastern religions than Christianity. It’s well documented that he sent teams of archaeologists into Tibet, China, and India. One of them must have come across the box.”
“Or else he had it from the beginning,” Matt says. “The box might have been passed down in a secret tradition we know little about. Recall how most of the inner Nazis belonged to the Thule Society—an esoteric satanic cult.”
“That’s a possibility,” Seymour says. “Hell, for all we know Hitler might have used the box to help with his rise to power. But let’s focus on the vimanas for a moment. When my mind was linked with yours, Sita, I saw the lights in the sky the people at Krishna’s campfire were talking about. And while you were still coming out of our hypnotic trance, I looked up vimanas on the Internet and found out there are several major scriptures that talk about them—and not all of them are from India. One is called the Samarangana Sutradhara. Let me quote this one part. ‘Strong and durable must the body of the vimana be made, like a great flying bird of light material. Inside one must put the mercury engine with its iron heating apparatus underneath. By means of the power latent in the mercury which sets the driving whirlwind in motion, a man sitting inside may travel a great distance in the sky. The movements of the vimana are such that it can fly vertically or horizontally or fly in circles. With help of the machines human beings can fly in the air and heavenly beings can come down to earth.’ ” Seymour stops and shakes his head. “We’re not deluding ourselves. These things existed.”
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