Son of Bhrigu

by CHRISTOPHER C. DOYLE

  The three of them started down the path, and soon arrived at a stairway built of rocks, probably quarried from the nearby hills. Virendra switched on the torch on his mobile phone.

  ‘Careful now,’ he cautioned them as he brought up the rear so that Pramila and Arjun could see their way down in the beam from his mobile phone. ‘There’s a sharp drop ahead. You’ll see a railing on your left. Stay away from it. Just in case.’

  Arjun held Pramila’s hand protectively as they descended the stairway. As Virendra had forewarned there was, indeed, a railing to their left. It was painted green and beyond it, Arjun could see a massive black gap in the trees that were packed densely all around it. While he could clearly discern the outlines of the gap and the extent of its spread, in the slowly advancing dawn, he could not see any features of the yawning chasm or what it contained.

  Arjun sensed that his uncle had been here before. And probably more than once.

  ‘Keep going,’ Virendra urged. ‘We’re almost there.’

  The path now led down the slope, the railing continuing along the flanks of the path. Finally, they reached level ground.

  ‘Be cautious, everybody,’ Virendra warned. ‘Keep going straight. If you go left, you will land in the water.’

  Dawn had progressed and in the dim light, Arjun could now make out a few details.

  Behind him was the path leading down from the Land Cruiser parked far above at the side of the road, now hidden from view. They were now standing at the bottom and at the fringe of the chasm he had observed from the vantage point at the foot of the stairs. To his right and before him was dense forest — trees packed tightly together as if huddling close to each other to keep warm through the night. On his left he could just about make out a large body of water, a lake? And beyond it, a steep slope rising almost perpendicular to the ground, soaring into the air.

  ‘What’s that?’ Arjun asked Virendra, pointing to an indistinct, dark blot some way up the sharply inclined cliff.

  ‘Those, my boy, are the Pandava caves,’ Virendra told him, ‘and just over there,’ he pointed to the slowly lifting gloom to the side of the lake that was opposite to where they stood, ‘are the Pandava falls. It is said that the Pandavas came here during their exile. But it’s not where we are headed.’

  In the half light of the dawn, Arjun felt, rather than saw, the majestic beauty of this place. While the colours were subdued and there was hardly any light there was a strange, yet welcome sense of peace. The silence was comforting, rather than eerie.

  But he was still left wondering.

  What were they doing here in this godforsaken place at this odd time of the day?

  Illustration by Ishan Trivedi

  Chapter Twenty-one

  At the Cliff Wall

  Pandava Falls

  Madhya Pradesh

  Arjun followed his uncle, still holding Pramila’s hand, even though they were now walking on level ground. They were following a concrete path between the trees that skirted the lake, heading straight for the perpendicular cliff at the far end.

  As they walked, the features of the lake that lay at the bottom of the chasm were slowly revealed in the early morning light. The lake and the chasm, bereft of any forest cover, were lit up by the first rays of the sun that were emerging from the horizon, escaping the prison of night.

  Arjun could now see the deep emerald hue of the lake. The trickle of water at the far end, which was all that was left of the falls in this season; the deep grey, black and brown colours of the cliff they were walking towards, which was draped in a profusion of plants that seemed to hang like sheer curtains that covered the side of the cliff, yet allowed its natural beauty to shine through, all combined to make his surroundings magical.

  Directly in front of them were what appeared to be stone facades for caves at ground level that were carved into the side of the cliff, either naturally or by human hand. Above this lower row of caves was a cave higher up, set in the wall of the cliff—the one that Arjun had seen earlier.

  At that time, it had been indistinct but now its yellow interior was clearer and Arjun could see artefacts within, though he could not make out what they were.

  But Virendra was not making his way towards the caves. Instead, he was walking away from them, off the concrete path and through a cluster of trees, towards another part of the cliff wall, which was bare, apart from the creepers that adorned it.

  They reached the cliff face and stood there.

  ‘Now what?’ Arjun asked his uncle.

  ‘Now, we wait.’ Virendra struck the cliff wall thrice with the palm of his hand.

  Arjun was baffled. What was wrong with his uncle? Virendra was acting mighty strangely and he couldn’t understand why. He felt rather silly, standing here, in the middle of a forest, next to a lake, with his uncle slapping the wall of a cliff. His mother seemed unperturbed by her brother’s strange behavior. Would someone tell him what was going on?

  He didn’t have to wait long to get his answer.

  Pandava Falls

  Madhya Pradesh

  Harish, who had been following the three fugitives from Delhi, rubbed his eyes in disbelief.

  He had watched as Virendra had parked the Land Cruiser and the three occupants had clambered out and made their way down the path to the lake at the bottom of the Pandava falls.

  While he wondered what they planned to do, in this desolate wilderness, in the pre-dawn gloom, he had dutifully followed them down, keeping at a discreet distance, as instructed by his boss.

  When Virendra had struck off the concrete path and headed for the cliff face, Harish had taken refuge in one of the caves, from where he stuck his head out and watched the trio, partly hidden by a creeper that dangled from the cliff above the cave and covered the cave entrance.

  As the day advanced and the darkness began lifting over the lake, Harish had had to move deeper into the cave, which meant that his line of sight was not as clear as it had been earlier, especially since the portion of the forest where Virendra, Pramila and Arjun stood was still shrouded in semi darkness, shaded by the densely packed trees through which the weak light of the dawn could not penetrate.

  Harish thought he saw a fourth person join the trio. It looked like a woman but he couldn’t be sure.

  Where had she suddenly appeared from? And what was she doing here, all alone in the forest, at this unearthly hour?

  Then, as he watched, the four of them seemed to vanish.

  One moment, they were huddled together, speaking in soft tones that did not allow him to hear what they said.

  The next moment, they were gone.

  All he could see was the cliff face.

  He poked his head out, throwing caution to the winds, to get a better view.

  But there was no one to be seen.

  He looked around wildly.

  Nothing disturbed the peace of the forest.

  Bewildered, he cautiously advanced to the spot where he had seen Virendra strike the rock with his hand. He couldn’t be sure about the exact spot but he approximated the area and searched for traces of the trio he had stalked all the way from Delhi.

  But there was no sign of them.

  He returned to the rock and slapped it like he had observed Virendra do.

  Nothing. Just hard rock.

  Confused, he made his way back to where his car was parked, at a safe distance from the Land Cruiser, hidden from view by a bend in the road and a copse of trees that had strayed almost to the edge of the road.

  He had to report this to his boss. Raman Kapoor would not be pleased.

  How was he going to explain this?

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Maya leaves Delhi

  Ratan Tiwari’s house

  New Delhi

  Maya struggled to open her eyes. Her eyelids felt like they had been tied down by weights. She had barely slept a few hours. What had woken her up this time? Was it morning already?

  There was a knock on the door.
<
br />   That must be it. Someone was knocking on the door.

  The curtains were drawn shut and the room was in darkness, so she couldn’t make out.

  Half groggy, she pulled herself out of bed and shuffled to the door.

  Ratan’s wife, Megha stood outside, a big smile on her face.

  ‘Good morning, Maya!’ she beamed. ‘Ratan asked me to wake you up. Both of you need to be on your way soon. You need an early start, there’s a long way to go. I’m making breakfast. Do you like stuffed paranthas?’

  Maya smiled back weakly, still feeling sleepy and disoriented. Last night’s dream continued to weigh heavily on her mind and body. Not only had it been mentally draining but, surprisingly, she felt physically exhausted.

  Not a dream. A nightmare.

  ‘Be with you in a few minutes,’ she mumbled back.

  ‘Here,’ Megha handed her a fresh tee shirt. ‘It might be a bit big for you, since it is mine and, well, I’m not fifteen anymore,’ she laughed. ‘But you don’t have fresh clothes so I thought I’d give you this.’

  Maya accepted the garment gratefully and Megha disappeared to prepare breakfast.

  In half an hour, Maya had showered and changed into Megha’s tee shirt, paired with the same jeans she had on the previous day. The smell of paranthas wafted to her and she suddenly felt hungry. All thoughts of last night’s nightmare were pushed aside for now.

  ‘So, where are we going?’ Maya asked at the breakfast table, in between mouthfuls of the most delicious paneer paranthas she had ever tasted in her life. Her father hadn’t been a terribly good cook and breakfast was usually toast and a glass of milk. The sudden memory of her father, smiling at the breakfast table, caught Maya off guard. She swallowed a piece of her parantha quickly, to keep the tears at bay.

  Strangely, though, Ratan was a bit subdued this morning. His trademark smile was missing and the non-stop chatter that had marked dinner was absent at breakfast. He was also clearly avoiding the subject of their destination. Maya wondered if something had brought him down or if he was just not a morning person.

  She decided to take the bull by the horns. A lot had happened and she had been at the receiving end. She felt she deserved to know what was happening. Virendra’s cryptic words on the call had not really helped, and in fact had made her feel more restless.

  ‘What if Shukra comes after me?’ she looked directly at Tiwari.

  The effect of her words was instantaneous.

  Tiwari dropped the piece of parantha he was about to put in his mouth. Megha, who was serving them both, froze in mid stride. It was as if time stood still for a few moments.

  Tiwari returned Maya’s gaze, looking her in the eye. ‘If he had to come after you, he would have done that yesterday itself. But he didn’t. There is a very good reason for that. You are not the one he is after.’

  The rest of breakfast was spent in silence. Both Megha and Tiwari seemed disturbed by her question. What were they so worried about? How much did they know? Maya couldn’t make out.

  Not that the lack of conversation worried Maya. She was occupied with her own thoughts. Three questions gripped her mind.

  Who was the unfortunate person Shukra was after?

  And why did he kill her father?

  Would she ever get the answers?

  Chapter Twenty-three

  The Valley of Music

  Pandava Falls

  Madhya Pradesh

  Arjun’s jaw dropped as a woman seemed to walk out of the rock face. Was he imagining things?

  She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Attired in a silk blouse and long silk skirt that reached her feet, a silk fabric was draped across her blouse like a dupatta. Her jewellery — earrings, a nose ring and a necklace — glittered with diamonds. And when she spoke, her voice was soft and musical.

  ‘Welcome back, Kanakpratap,’ she smiled at Virendra, then turned to Pramila. ‘And we always have a special place for you, Yajnaseni.’ She turned to Arjun. ‘And who is this?’

  Arjun was too mesmerized by the woman’s charisma to ask who Kanakpratap and Yajnaseni were. The words barely registered as he tried hard not to gawk.

  Virendra smiled back at her. ‘Good to see you, Varsha. It has been a long time.’ He gestured towards Arjun. ‘This is my nephew Arjun. Rudrapratap’s son.’

  Varsha smiled at Arjun. ‘It is a pleasure to have you among us, Arjun. Welcome to the land of the Gandharvas. Come with me.’

  She turned around and walked through the rock face of the cliff that towered above them.

  Pramila followed her, walking through the rock and vanishing.

  ‘Come on, then,’ Virendra gestured to Arjun to follow him and disappeared into the rock.

  Arjun stood there, gaping, unsure of what to do next.

  Virendra reappeared, walking back out of the rock. He pointed to the cliff wall.

  ‘This is an illusion,’ he explained. He held out his hand and pushed it through the rock. It disappeared halfway, as if it had been cut off at the elbow.

  ‘Just walk through and you will be in the land of the Gandharvas,’ Virendra informed Arjun. ‘This is a device to prevent strangers who visit this place from finding their way in. Consider it a portal that leads from our world to theirs. Few humans are permitted to enter and, without a Gandharva companion, you would not be able to pass through unless you knew the mantra that allows you to enter,’ he explained, noticing Arjun’s bafflement.

  He walked through the rock again and, hesitantly, Arjun followed.

  To his surprise, as he touched the rock wall, it seemed to melt and become fluid, flowing around his body. As he walked deeper into the cliff, the fluid seemed to part before him and solidify behind him. He was walking straight through the rock, the stone visible on either side of him and behind him.

  A few paces, and he was out of the rock, standing and staring at the sight that lay before him.

  He blinked at first and then squinted as he emerged from the near darkness of the interior of the rock into daylight again. This place seemed to be in a different time zone. The sun was already high in the sky, which was clear, with not a trace of clouds.

  He stood, with Varsha, Pramila and Virendra, upon the edge of a valley, lush and green, surrounded by a ring of hills that stretched on every side, as far as the eye could see. A narrow river ran through the valley near its eastern border and, on either side of the river, stretched green, tree-lined meadows. This was unreal!

  On the southern side, the slope of the hills was gradual and the hillside was dotted with beautiful stone houses. In the distance, below the stone houses, were large buildings, built around squares, with the largest square before the biggest building.

  The sound of music floated out to them as they stood there, gazing upon the beauty that lay before them.

  The overall picture was serene and tranquil.

  ‘They are waiting for you,’ Varsha told Virendra.

  She turned and gracefully made her way down the slope, into the valley. As they descended, Arjun glanced back at the way they had come but could see no sign of the magical entrance they had just used. There was only the rocky cliff that rose behind them, with no gap that could serve as an entry.

  They reached the floor of the valley and walked towards the buildings they had seen from above.

  The sound of music was all around them now. The voices singing were pure and melodious. The cheerful music and the harmony of the instruments instantly lifted their spirits. They felt unusually refreshed, despite the long, almost nonstop, more than twelve-hour long drive from Delhi.

  Arjun still could not believe this was happening. Was he truly among the Gandharvas or was this some fantastic dream?

  He had heard about them all his life, from Pramila, as she narrated stories to him from the epics. He knew they were celestial musicians. But he had always treated those stories as myths, never believing them to be real. He had never expected to one day find himself in their midst, listening to their
music live.

  As they approached the large buildings in the valley, a group of Gandharvas came out to meet them. They all smiled and bowed to the little group. The men among them came up to Virendra and hugged him, while the women did the same for Pramila.

  Arjun noted that even the men among the Gandharvas were dressed in silk. They wore waist-length tunics, with short sleeves and elaborate collars, and loose fitting leggings that extended until their ankles, with a slit at the back of their calves that exposed their well-worked leather boots.

  Clearly, both Virendra and Pramila were well known to these people. They were being greeted like old friends.

  Arjun stood on the sidelines, fidgeting, feeling awkward and ignored. He was still trying to come to terms with the fact that these beautiful people, in gorgeous clothes, who were talking and laughing in front of him were Gandharvas—beings he had not even believed existed.

  ‘Come,’ Varsha said to Virendra after the warm welcome and exchange of greetings. ‘Visvavasu awaits.’

  ‘Visvavasu is the king of these Gandharvas,’ Pramila whispered to Arjun, noticing that he was looking a little lost.

  Arjun gave a casual nod, as if he had heard of Visvavasu before. He did not want his mother to know how ill at ease he felt. He did not want her constant protection. He fell in line behind the others as they made their way to the largest building in the valley.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  The Gandharva Council

  The Gandharva valley

  The group, led by Varsha, made its way towards the largest building that dominated the valley, with an enormous square before it. The sound of the music grew louder as they approached. It was coming from inside the building.

  Arjun wondered if it was a theatre for musical performances. He had heard stories, from Pramila, about the musical prowess of the Gandharvas, and today he was experiencing it for himself. The music he heard was nothing short of divine.

  They entered the building and walked through the imposing entrance, into a narrow corridor that suddenly opened up into a gigantic hall.

  Arjun stared with wonder, at the ceiling that soared high above them, painted with murals in vivid colours. He was even more amazed by the absence of pillars in the hall, despite its magnificent size. Even the walls were painted in bright colours.