Son of Bhrigu

by CHRISTOPHER C. DOYLE

  Maya was crestfallen. She had been making notes from the book she was studying, of references to other books, hoping that she would find something somewhere that would help her make sense of her father’s diary.

  She shut the book, disappointed.

  ‘Don’t worry about putting it back,’ Gurumurthy said, gently, seeing the disappointment on her face. ‘I’ll do it for you.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Maya tried to smile through her disappointment and walked towards the door.

  ‘Oh, wait a minute.’

  Maya turned to see Gurumurthy looking thoughtful. ‘There is one possibility that I hadn’t thought of. It just occurred to me.’

  ‘A possibility of translating Brahmabhasha?’

  ‘ No, no.’ Gurumurthy spread his hands before him. ‘No one on Earth can do that in this day and age. But if you want to know more about that ancient language, then there is only one man alive in India who can help you.’ He paused. ‘Well, hopefully, he is still alive. No one has heard from him in decades.’

  Maya approached Gurumurthy, a hopeful look on her face. ‘Who is he?’

  ‘His name is Satyavachana. A Maharishi. Possibly the most powerful Maharishi alive today. Maybe even the most powerful Maharishi to have ever lived since Kaliyuga began.’

  Maya’s hopes soared. This sounded promising. ‘And where can I find him?’

  Gurumurthy looked troubled. He realized he had raised Maya’s expectations. And he was about to disappoint her.

  ‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘No one does.’

  Chapter Fifty-five

  Maya Dreams Again

  The Guesthouse

  The Gurukul

  That night, Maya sat up late, studying her father’s notebook, going through the shlokas and mantras all over again. She knew some of them by heart already and could recite them with her eyes closed. She studied the diagrams and sketches over and over again, trying to make sense of them, but to no avail.

  Finally, she put the diary aside. There had to be a way of deciphering the verses in the notebook.

  It was logical.

  From everything she had heard so far, no one could read or understand Brahmabhasha.

  Even the mysterious Satyavachana who Gurumurthy had told her about, could only give her more information about the language, according to the Keeper of the Archives. And that was logical too. If Brahmabhasha was a language used by the Devas , then no human would have been taught the language.

  So where had her father got these verses from? If Brahmabhasha was a language that no human knew, how had her father been able to lay his hands on it and inscribe it in his diary?

  He had to have had a source.

  Maya remembered reading the Mahabharata. The cryptic verses in the Adi Parva came to her mind.

  He then completed another compilation consisting of sixty hundred thousand shlokas. Of these, thirty hundred thousand are known in the world of Devas. Fifteen hundred thousand in the world of Pitris, fourteen hundred thousand in the world of Gandharvas and one hundred thousand in the world of mankind.

  Was it possible that the Mahabharata was, in its own cryptic way, referring to verses in Brahmabhasha, that were not accessible to humans? Were the ‘thirty hundred thousand’ verses, referred to in these shlokas, composed in Brahmabhasha? Was that why only one hundred thousand verses were shared with humans? And if this was true, who knew what those missing verses from the human version contained? There were still many mysteries in the Mahabharata; many verses that were undecipherable or which didn’t make sense. Could it be that these missing verses also hid a secret?

  Was it possible that her father had found a source for these missing verses? Or verses like these written in Brahmabhasha ?

  There was only one way to find out. She had to meet Satyavachana. She didn’t know how, but she was determined to find him.

  Maya turned the lights out. It had been a long day and she was tired.

  She decided to recite one of the mantras she had learned today. A mantra for peace of mind and relaxation. A mantra to calm her. She needed it with all the thinking she had been doing; the myriad thoughts still swirling around within her mind.

  It didn’t take her long to fall asleep after reciting the mantra.

  She dreamed.

  For the second time in four nights, she dreamed that she was free of her body, floating in the air, an invisible, imperceptible breeze of some kind whisking her out of the room, this time through the wall of the cottage and into the open air beneath the canopy of trees that shaded the Gurukul.

  Then, she soared higher, above the treetops. The night sky blazed with a profusion of white lights, twinkling as if in time to some unheard music. It was the most beautiful sight she had ever seen.

  Below her, the Ken river flowed peacefully, the light of a million stars crashing against its waters and breaking up into shards and slivers until the river seemed to be lit up by an unseen source.

  She was filled with an unusual sense of peace.

  A name floated into her consciousness. Called up from some distant memory, it hovered for a while, indistinct, as she ignored it. The sense of calmness, of eternal peace, was something she didn’t want to let go of.

  The name became visible.

  With a start, she found herself transported in the twinkling of an eye to another forest.

  Maya looked around bewildered and lost. To one side, a river flowed in serpentine curves, bordered by a forest that stretched all the way until and over low hills that continued right up to the horizon.

  She hovered over the hills, noticing a track that weaved among the trees. She followed it, amazed at her own dream. All it needed was a thought and she was moving along the track, as weightless as a feather. After a while, the track disappeared among the trees and she could see, through the treetops, the roof of a building.

  Was it a cottage? It was difficult to make out in the light of the stars.

  What was this place? This was not Panna. It was not the Gurukul. She had never seen this location before.

  At the thought of the Gurukul and Panna, the landscape below her disappeared and she found herself disappearing into a black, borderless void . . . .

  Maya sat up in bed with a jerk, fully awake.

  Where was she?

  The rustle of the bedsheet under her hands, the soft whisper of the air conditioner in her room brought her back to her senses. She was in her room in the guesthouse. She was perspiring for some reason, despite it being fairly cool.

  It was just a dream. She hadn’t gone anywhere.

  Just a dream . . .

  Chapter Fifty-six

  Maya Shares her Troubles

  Day Seven

  The Guesthouse

  The Gurukul

  Tiwari studied Maya as he waited for her to speak. The girl seemed troubled, conflicted even. That much was clear from her expression and he could sense her hesitation and . . . was it fear? Possibly. But fear of what?

  He didn’t want to push her. Maya had come to him in the morning, seeking a private meeting.

  ‘I . . . I have something to talk about which I can’t share with anyone else,’ she had told him. ‘Something that is confidential.’

  He had agreed to meet her in the evening in the sitting room of the guesthouse, ensuring that the door to the room was shut, to give them privacy.

  Tiwari was concerned as he watched Maya struggle with her thoughts, with what she wanted to do and what she thought was the right thing to do.

  Perhaps that was the root of her fear, he thought.

  So, he waited. Maya had chosen to speak to him over Arjun, Virendra or Pramila—the people she knew well. It was clear the girl trusted him. He didn’t want to let her down. And above all, he wanted to help her.

  ‘Ratan,’ Maya began, cautiously, ‘swear to me that you will not tell anyone else what I am about to tell you.’

  ‘If you don’t want me to tell anyone, I won’t. I promise.’

  Maya nodded bu
t said nothing more.

  What was troubling her so much? Tiwari wondered if it had to do with the misgivings he had entertained on the night when Shukra’s army of monsters had materialized at the Gurukul.

  ‘I’m scared,’ Maya confessed after a while, finally appearing to overcome her hesitation and misgivings. ‘I don’t understand it and I’m afraid. I’m scared of talking about this to anyone else. The only person I can trust is you.’ She looked at him pleadingly. ‘Please help me.’

  ‘Tell me what it is,’ Tiwari said gently, in a reassuring tone.

  ‘I . . . I don’t know if something is wrong with me . . . my mind . . . I don’t know. I’m scared,’ Maya reiterated.

  ‘What is scaring you?’

  ‘I’ve been having these dreams,’ Maya’s words came out in a rush, almost as if she was scared that she might change her mind and hold something back if she didn’t get them out in a hurry. ‘Weird dreams. Sometimes nightmares.’ She lowered her voice as if afraid someone might overhear. ‘The first one was in your house. The night when you rescued me at the Metro station.’

  It was Tiwari’s turn to hesitate. He was almost afraid to ask. ‘What was it that you dreamed about?’ he finally questioned.

  ‘That is what terrifies me. I dreamt about places I’ve never been to. Things I haven’t seen. I don’t know why or how.’

  ‘Tell me what you saw in your dreams,’ he goaded her on gently.

  Maya told him. She narrated everything she had seen in her dream, as she slept in Tiwari’s guest bedroom. The blood spattered scene at her house, the lonely, winding, narrow road that she had seen the Land Cruiser traversing, the nightmare that involved Shukra and his motley monsters. She described her second dream from last night, the sensation of weightlessness that she hadn’t noticed in her first dream, the instant change of scenes and the forest on the hills that she had seen.

  Tiwari was silent when she finished. He had his own struggles to deal with now.

  Maya mistook his silence as encouragement to elaborate and explain further. She carried on, oblivious.

  ‘The dreams are not what scare me. It’s the fact that what I’m seeing seems like real stuff.’ Her voice became animated. ‘You remember when we were driving to Panna and you asked me if I was looking for something? Well, I was looking around frantically because I had seen that very road in my dream at your house. It was the same road that the Land Cruiser was driving on, in my dream. I couldn’t believe my eyes when we drove down that stretch of road because it was exactly the same as what I had seen! I didn’t understand it then. But I later realized that I had also seen, in the same dream, the monsters whom we fought in the clearing outside the Gurukul. They were among the creatures that Shukra was speaking to. I can’t remember what he was saying to them, but I remember the creatures vividly. I could almost feel them in the dream, it was so realistic.’

  Maya stopped talking and looked at Tiwari, her hands in her lap. ‘What’s happening to me, Ratan? Why am I dreaming of things like this? It scares me. Am I seeing things in my dream that somehow come true?’

  Tiwari took a deep breath. ‘You are absolutely sure about all that you just said?’

  Maya nodded.

  ‘You were right not to tell anyone else about this.’ Tiwari hesitated. ‘People might misunderstand.’

  ‘Misunderstand?’ Maya was confused.

  ‘Yes. You see, all your life, you have never displayed any signs of yogic power. No one has ever detected any potential in you to become a Rishi. That is why you were never approached for recruitment to any of the Gurukuls. If your dreams, however, are an indication, then people would be disposed to think that there was something amiss.’

  ‘Like what?’ Maya didn’t understand.

  ‘Like you being an agent of Shukra,’ Tiwari said in a grim voice.

  Chapter Fifty-seven

  Tiwari Explains

  The Guesthouse

  The Gurukul

  Maya was horrified. ‘An agent of Shukra! Why would anyone think that?’

  ‘There’s no other way to explain this.’ Tiwari paused. ‘Let’s start with the concept of the atma. You know what that is, right?’

  ‘The spirit. The soul. It is eternal and lives on beyond the body.’

  ‘Correct. Actually, we have three bodies, in a manner of speaking. Like the layers of an onion, each body is wrapped within the other. The innermost body is the atma — the soul, which you can call our spiritual body. The atma is enveloped by what is called the sukshma sharir — the subtle or imperceptible body, which consists of the mind, intelligence and false ego. The outermost layer is our physical body, the sthula sharir — the gross body which determines our physical appearance and constitution.’

  Maya listened wide-eyed, and more than a bit confused. What did this have to do with her dreams? And how would this make anyone think that she was an agent of Shukra?

  ‘We will get to it,’ Tiwari reassured her, seeing the doubtful expression on her face. ‘But first you need to understand the concept of the atma . You see, when we die, the soul leaves the gross body, carrying the sukshma sharir or the subtle body with it. The gross body dies but the atma and subtle body live on, until we eventually leave the material world and our soul returns to the spiritual realm, leaving the subtle body behind. Are you with me so far?’

  Maya nodded.

  ‘Now, here’s the thing,’ Tiwari resumed. ‘It is possible, with highly developed yogic powers, for the atma to leave the physical body even while the person is alive. The physical body does not die, it is simply bereft of the soul for as long as it is outside the body.’ He paused, allowing the thought to sink in.

  Maya contemplated this.

  ‘You mean,’ she said slowly, ‘that my dreams weren’t really dreams. They were real . I wasn’t dreaming that I was flying around the countryside seeing things. I was actually doing it. Or, at least, my atma was.’ She looked at Tiwari for validation. ‘Am I correct?’

  ‘Yes, Maya. The atma has the capability of moving at the speed of thought. Because it has no physical constraints, it can go anywhere, guided just by a thought and nothing else. Were you thinking of specific locations or specific people while you thought you were dreaming?’

  Maya’s eyes widened. ‘Yes, I was.’ She reflected back on her dream that first night in Tiwari’s house. ‘When I thought about Arjun, I saw the Land Cruiser driving along the road to Panna. Then, somehow, the thought of Shukra came into my mind and I saw him with his army of creatures. And I went to sleep thinking of Dad. That’s why . . .’

  Her voice quavered. ‘Does that mean that the bloodstains on the wall, the blood on the carpet of the living room was actually my father’s? Is that how . . . ?’ She wiped a tear from her eye.

  Tiwari stayed silent, allowing her to recover her composure.

  ‘So how was I able to do this without yogic powers?’ Maya queried finally, bringing her emotions under control. ‘You said this needed highly developed yogic powers. I don’t have yogic powers.’

  ‘That’s just the problem,’ Tiwari said, quietly. ‘If you don’t have yogic powers, then how can anyone explain what you have experienced, and what you have done? There are Maharishis in the Sangha who are not capable of performing this feat, despite all their powers. Yet you, a fifteen-year-old girl, have done it.’

  ‘But that doesn’t connect me to Shukra in any way!’

  ‘Not directly, no,’ Tiwari admitted. ‘But there is another strange thing that happened, which cannot be easily explained.’

  Maya looked askance at him. What more could there be?

  ‘You remember that you passed out in the clearing that night?’

  She nodded, recalling suddenly waking up and finding herself in the midst of a battle, with people chanting the Narsimha mantra all around her.

  ‘Well, you didn’t really pass out. I didn’t tell you about it earlier because I wasn’t sure if my observation was correct. But what you have just told me seems to add
up.’

  ‘What had happened to me?’ Maya demanded, tearfully. She was even more scared than she had been earlier.

  Tiwari felt sorry for her. He didn’t want to go on with this explanation, but this was the best thing to do. She had to know.

  ‘When the black fog appeared,’ he explained, ‘in fact, even before it appeared — probably seconds prior to its appearance — you collapsed on the ground, holding your head, screaming in pain and, probably, delirium. You were sobbing. Then, as suddenly as you had started, you stopped screaming and went completely silent. That was when the fog began producing the monsters.’

  Maya couldn’t believe what she was hearing. ‘Are you telling me that there was a connection between what I felt, and the fog, and the appearance of those creatures? How can you believe that, Ratan?’

  Tiwari shook his head. ‘I don’t believe that, Maya. But the coincidence is too great, don’t you think? Someone who doesn’t know you might point out . . .’ He hesitated. This was going to be difficult. But he wanted the girl to know what she might be up against if someone got to know about her experiences. ‘. . . That you were also present when Shukra killed your Dad. You have been present every time something associated with Shukra happens. The pretas in the forest are just another example.’

  ‘That doesn’t mean anything!’ Maya remonstrated, tears running down her cheeks now. ‘I loved my Dad. I still love him! And I have nothing to do with Shukra! I hate him! I . . .’ Words failed her.

  ‘I know, Maya. And I believe you. But this is exactly why you should keep quiet about everything you have told me. I have told no one about what I observed in the clearing. You have to ensure that you never, ever, tell anyone either. Not even Arjun.’

  Maya nodded tearfully.

  ‘There’s one more thing,’ she said, wiping the tears from her face. ‘I don’t know if it has anything to do with my dreams . . . my atma leaving my body at night, but it is a common factor.’

  Tiwari listened attentively.

  ‘Last night, before this happened,’ she gestured ambiguously, not wanting to say the words again, ‘I recited a mantra. Could that have something to do with my out of body experience?’