Son of Bhrigu

by CHRISTOPHER C. DOYLE

  As the two men left his room, Kapoor picked up the phone and dialled a number. ‘I want them watched,’ he instructed. ‘Yes, the two who came in to see me just now. They are hiding something and I want to find out what that is.’

  Chapter Five

  A Bolt from the Blue

  Arjun’s house

  New Delhi

  ‘But why are we leaving?’ Arjun’s mind was in turmoil. He couldn’t understand what was suddenly happening.

  His uncle and Maya’s father had returned home a short while ago. The two men and Arjun’s mother had shut themselves in a room since, apparently discussing something important.

  Maya and he had sat talking about the history test that was scheduled for the next day. It was supposed to have been held three days ago, but two of Sumitra’s favourite students hadn’t come to school that day so she had rescheduled it.

  ‘Better make it for the test tomorrow, AJ,’ Maya chuckled. ‘She won’t reschedule it for you!’

  ‘Oh, I’ll be there alright,’ Arjun had grinned back.

  Just then, the adults had emerged from their ‘secret meeting’. Maya and her father had left soon after.

  That was when Virendra had dropped the bombshell.

  ‘We’re leaving town,’ he announced. ‘All three of us. Immediately.’

  Shocked, Arjun had turned to his mother for an explanation. Pramila, seemingly unfazed, was already packing essentials. Only then had it dawned on him. She already knew! This was what they had been discussing with Naresh uncle.

  But what could the reason be? And why the hurry? And where were they going? Would they ever return? When? What would he do about the history test? Sumitra would have his skin!

  But there were no answers forthcoming. Both Virendra and Pramila were tightlipped.

  ‘What about the gyms?’ he asked desperate for a response.

  ‘Sharma has been informed. He runs them anyway. I won’t be missed,’ Virendra had a ready answer. Sharma was the chief operating officer of Virendra’s company, which owned the gyms.

  Defeated, Arjun began throwing his clothes into a suitcase, in sullen despair. No one ever shared anything with him. It was the adults who made all the decisions. Neither of them bothered to consider what his feelings were, or if he would even like to move.

  He felt a pang as he saw his books and his sporting gear, none of which he could take along. Virendra had been very clear: they were going to travel light. The only exception his uncle had made was for their set of practice swords, which Arjun now lovingly packed in a wooden case, crafted especially for the purpose of carrying the swords around.

  Within no time, their suitcases were packed and loaded into Virendra’s Land Cruiser.

  Arjun took one last look at the house before they drove off. Would he ever see the house again? Or his school friends?

  ‘What about Maya?’ He suddenly realized he had not spoken to her. ‘I need to call her.’ He took out his phone.

  ‘You can speak to her when we reach,’ Virendra said firmly from behind the wheel. ‘Anyway, I am sure her father will tell her.’

  Pramila looked at her son, understanding his anguish at leaving his best friend behind. ‘There’s a reason for this, Arjun,’ she said. ‘I promise we will explain everything. Just be patient for a while. Please.’

  Tears welled up in Arjun’s eyes as he folded his arms tight and hugged himself. He looked out of the window, trying to hide his true feelings.

  Only a few hours ago, he had been fretting about school work and Sumitra. And now, suddenly it seemed like his life had changed.

  What he didn’t know was that it would never be the same again.

  Chapter Six

  A Visitor

  Maya’s House

  New Delhi

  ‘What’s the matter, Dad?’ Maya asked. Her father’s usually cheerful face was grave and dark today, like a storm on the horizon. He had been unusually silent and preoccupied during the drive home from Arjun’s house. Maya had busied herself with her digital Walkman, listening to her favourite tunes. Now, as they reached the house, Maya thought she would try to find out what was bothering him.

  Upadhyay seemed to awaken from a trance. He took a moment to respond. ‘Oh, nothing, really,’ he replied finally, attempting the shadow of a smile. ‘Just some bad news that came in today.’

  ‘Bad news, huh?’ Maya put her headphones back on and returned to her music. Clearly, her father was disinclined to share any information with her. So, she figured, either it wasn’t too important or she was not supposed to know. Either way, it seemed pointless to keep asking him about it. He would tell her when he wanted to.

  ‘I’m going to be in my room if you need me, Dad. Have a test coming up tomorrow,’ Maya told Upadhyay, as they entered the house.

  Upadhyay nodded absently and made his way to the study. It was where he spent a lot of his time reading and researching. The walls of his study were lined with bookshelves on three sides. He headed for one in particular and began studying the titles on the shelf. Finally, he found what he was looking for. An old leather diary, well-thumbed and worn.

  He opened the diary and flipped through the pages, which bore inscriptions in Sanskrit, written by hand.

  When he reached the page he was looking for, he frowned and sat down at his desk, reading the inscription intently. Finally, he closed the book and sat for some time, looking into the distance, lost in thought.

  After a while, he rose and made his way to one of the bookshelves and removed a few books to reveal the door of a safe built into the wall. He opened the safe and took out a sheet of paper. He studied it carefully before walking over to the desk and placing it in the notebook he had been reading a few moments ago.

  Then, he returned to the safe and took out something. It was a golden amulet on a chain. He gazed at the amulet nestled in the palm of his hand, then closed his fingers around it and locked the safe.

  After making sure everything was back to where it had been, he made his way to Maya’s room and knocked on the door. ‘Maya?’

  ‘Ya, Dad, come in!’

  He opened the door and stepped into the room.

  ‘Sorry to disturb you, sweetheart, but I wanted to give you this.’ He opened his palm, revealing the amulet. ‘You must wear this at all times from now on.’

  ‘Come on, Dad, what’s this for?’ Maya made a face. ‘Not another of your rituals, is it? You know I don’t . . . ’ she let her words trail. Her father already knew how she felt about these things.

  Her disregard for such trinkets, as she thought of them, had deep roots. Her mother had died when she was still a baby. While her father had showered her with more love than most children get from both parents, she still missed having a mother around. Somehow, a father was different. There were some things that she could not say to him; things she could not share with him. Things she needed a mother for. She loved her father deeply, and didn’t really have any recollection of her mother, but she did miss her.

  And the question always stayed in her mind: if rituals, prayers, amulets and other such things had such immense power, why had her father not used them to save her mother?

  It wasn’t that she blamed him for not doing enough to save her mother; maybe he had tried—she didn’t know and had never asked him; it would be intruding on not just his private thoughts but also on the grief she knew he had felt on losing his wife at such an early age. And whether he had tried or not, it only showed the limitations of rituals, prayers and baubles like the amulet. They really were of no use.

  Upadhyay tried to smile, a weak, watery smile. ‘This is for your protection, my dear. I hope to God that you won’t need it, but just in case . . . Promise me that you will wear this at all times and never let it leave you for even a moment.’

  Maya started to protest but stopped when she saw her father’s face. For just a moment, she thought she saw a flicker of fear and then it was gone.

  She was taken aback. Ever since she could reme
mber, she had known her father to be fearless. On one occasion, she remembered clearly, he had even taken on a mob which was hell bent on beating a driver, involved in a road accident, to death. He had waded into the rioting crowd and calmed them down with no fear for his own life or well-being. That was her dad; always ready to stand up for what he believed in, always fearless.

  Yet, she was sure she had seen fear on his face for the first time today. A grim foreboding crept into her heart. What was her father afraid of?

  Realizing that he was serious about his request, she wordlessly took the amulet from him and slipped it around her neck.

  Just then, the doorbell rang.

  ‘I’ll see who it is. You carry on with your studies.’ Upadhyay shut the door behind him as he left to answer the bell.

  ‘Hi Diya,’ he greeted the young girl at the door, with a smile. ‘Come on in.’

  Diya was a twelfth grade student in his school. But only Upadhyay and a few others knew that she was no ordinary student. She was also a member of the Gana.

  ‘Why didn’t you call?’ he asked, indicating for her to sit down on the sofa. ‘You know face to face meetings are to be avoided as far as possible.’

  ‘This was too important, Mahamati Dhruv,’ Diya explained, addressing Upadhyay by his real name and the respectful title given to the elder members of the Sangha.

  ‘Diya, hush!’ Upadhyay leaned forward. ‘That name is not to be taken even in my house. Now tell me, is this to do with Vishwaraj?’

  Diya nodded. ‘We’ve discovered where he is hiding.’ She looked around. ‘Can I please have a pen and paper? I will draw you a map.’

  Upadhyay rose and went to the study. He felt hopeful. The mists were clearing. He didn’t know what role the boy had played in what had befallen Trivedi, and he certainly couldn’t believe that Vishwaraj was powerful enough to have killed his friend. But Vishwaraj had threatened Trivedi. His friend had told him as much during their last conversation. And the boy had known something that only Upadhyay, Trivedi, Virendra, and a handful of others, were supposed to know. It was imperative that he meet Vishwaraj and find out more. He needed to know who was involved.

  All the facts pointed in one direction. To one person. He involuntarily shuddered at the thought. It was not a pleasant one.

  But only Vishwaraj could give them conclusive answers. Now that they had discovered his hideaway, it was just a matter of time.

  He took a sheet of paper and a pen and turned around.

  Upadhyay froze in his tracks.

  The sofa, on which Diya was supposed to be sitting, was visible from his desk in the study through the open door.

  But she wasn’t sitting there anymore.

  In her place, was a large man with an impressive physique, well over six and a half feet tall, with a black, bushy beard. His black hair grew long at the back, touching his shoulders, and he wore an eyepatch over one eye.

  With his other eye, he was looking into the study, straight at Upadhyay.

  A cold chill ran down the history teacher’s spine. So he had been right about Trivedi’s murder. It was this formidable man, whose involvement he had feared. But, even though he had expected to encounter him at some point, he had not thought it would be so soon. And definitely not in his own house.

  He was totally unprepared for the confrontation he knew would follow.

  Chapter Seven

  New Suspects?

  SP Kapoor’s office

  New Delhi

  SP Raman Kapoor put the phone down and pondered the news he had just been given. Virendra Singh, one of the two friends of the victim, had gone straight home after their meeting and had just left his house with his sister and nephew. The man who had been assigned to shadow them had reported that they were carrying suitcases. Obviously the trio was leaving town.

  A frown creased his forehead. What was going on here? Could this be a coincidence? Perhaps Virendra and family had already planned a vacation? Something told Kapoor that this was not the case. He had quite clearly requested both men to inform him if they intended to leave town. Singh had not mentioned anything about an upcoming trip. Surely he would have informed Kapoor had there been a plan.

  If Singh had wanted to, that is.

  That was the key. Whether this trip was planned or not, Singh had had no intention of informing Kapoor. While there was no obvious evidence that this sudden flight had any connection with the murder of Trivedi, Kapoor’s intuition urged him to pursue that line of thought.

  Another thought had started forming in his mind. He had convinced himself, after just one meeting with the men, that they were honest, upright folk who could have had nothing to do with the murder. But had he made a mistake?

  Was it possible that he had let suspects in the case get away?

  Kapoor could not believe his instincts would betray him. There had been nothing in the demeanour of the men, during his meeting with them, to indicate their direct involvement in the crime.

  Upadhyay’s house was still under surveillance. Kapoor had been informed that the teacher had received a visitor a short while ago. So Upadhyay, at least, was still in town. Was he in the clear, then? Kapoor remembered the glances that the men had exchanged every time he had brought up anything of significance. If Singh was involved, it was extremely likely that Upadhyay was too.

  Too many possibilities and not enough evidence.

  It didn’t matter, Kapoor thought grimly. Singh’s vehicle was still being tailed. His man had very clear instructions to follow Singh wherever he went.

  He would get to the bottom of the matter.

  Come what may.

  Chapter Eight

  Son of Bhrigu

  Maya’s House

  New Delhi

  The two men stood staring at each other, their eyes locked.

  The silence was deafening.

  Then the intruder spoke. His voice was deep, yet mellifluous, and in some ways at odds with his intimidating appearance.

  ‘You don’t seem surprised, Dhruv.’

  Upadhyay forced himself to relax. ‘I was expecting you,’ he said simply, as he entered the sitting room and sat down facing the large man.

  Diya was nowhere to be seen. He gestured around the room.

  ‘Another of your illusions, Son of Bhrigu?’ he asked.

  The large man chuckled, apparently amused by Upadhyay’s question. ‘Yes. Even after being away for 5,000 years, meditating, I haven’t lost my touch. You have to agree.’

  Upadhyay felt a deep, dark fear take root in his soul. He had faced the intruder before and knew that he had never been a match for this man. Upadhyay was also painfully aware, that the son of Bhrigu had spent the last 5,000 years in meditation, gaining powers that he had never had before.

  Still, he pulled himself together. The man was in his house now. There weren’t too many options. He knew what was going to happen.

  And he knew how it would end.

  Another realization had struck him. If Diya had been an illusion, then this man knew about the Gana . He had known enough to track Upadhyay down.

  ‘What did you do to Diya?’ he demanded, concern for the girl overriding his fears.

  The big man smiled; a smile that failed to reach his eyes. ‘What do you think?’ he shot back, then waved a hand. ‘Let’s not waste time in trifles.’

  He looked Upadhyay in the eye. ‘I want the boy. After disposing of Trivedi, I knew that whoever was responsible for the boy’s escape would show their hand. And you did.’ He shrugged. ‘I mean, I always did suspect you but I had no evidence to back it up. But finally, I know. And, here we are. Just like old times, huh?’ He spoke casually but Upadhyay knew the danger that lurked behind his humourless words.

  ‘You killed Dhananjay?’ Upadhyay was beside himself with rage. ‘And you knew he was not involved with what happened in Allahabad?’

  The stranger clicked his tongue impatiently. ‘Trivedi was no more than bait. You see, he led me straight to you. So here I am. And
I want the boy. This time, I will not let you come in my way, Dhruv.’

  Upadhyay steeled himself for what was going to follow. He leaned forward and held the intruder’s gaze. ‘You will never reach the boy, Shukra.’ His voice was hard. ‘You forget the warning of the Saptarishis. Do not presume to continue what you started 5,000 years ago. You will be stopped.’

  Shukra sprang to his feet, his face dark with fury. ‘You dare threaten me with the Saptarishis?’ he thundered. ‘That powerless bunch? This is Kaliyuga, Dhruv. Even the Devas cannot stop me now! The whole lot of them can watch from their palaces and mansions, helpless and useless!’

  He advanced menacingly towards Upadhyay. ‘I will allow nothing to stop me now. Give me the boy. Tell me where he is and I will spare you.’ His voice boomed in the small sitting room.

  Upadhyay’s eyes glinted with defiance. ‘I don’t know where he is,’ he said, truthfully. ‘But even if I did, I would not deliver him to you.’

  ‘Very well. I gave you a chance and you refused. We’ll do it the hard way then.’

  Upadhyay’s eyes widened as he realized what Shukra had in mind.

  Chapter Nine

  Maya’s Amulet

  Maya’s House

  New Delhi

  Maya could hear the faint sound of a man shouting. She looked up from her book, concerned. It was not her father’s voice. It must be the visitor who had rung the doorbell. She had, at first, heard the low murmur of voices as her father and his visitor seemed to be engaged in conversation. Then suddenly she heard raised voices. Disconcerted, Maya walked to her door, unsure of whether she should go out into the living room.

  Her hand was still on the door handle, when the shouting abruptly stopped. There was silence now.

  No voices.

  An eerie calm prevailed. It unnerved her.

  What was happening out there?

  Her father’s guests were always soft spoken, polite, usually scholarly people — like her father. While there were frequent discussions on various academic and political issues, she could never once remember hearing raised voices in her house.