THE CURSE OF BRAHMA

by Jagmohan Bhanver

  The kalakanja gingerly rubbed his eyes. They hurt where Kansa had dug his thumbs during their fight. His vision was still hazy and he had difficulty in focusing his eyes at one place for too long. He was as scared of the Dark Lord’s anger as his other two companions, but he wasn’t overtly perturbed. He knew their master’s rage would be directed mainly at the pisaca as he was the leader of the mission. It was primarily his failure. Poor bastard, he thought. The master is going to fry him alive, he chuckled to himself.

  The door to the room opened as the shrouded figure of their master glided in noiselessly. The deafening noise of the wind howling outside suddenly seemed subdued. As if on cue, the lamps began to burn with an eerie intensity. The only sound in the room was the crackling of the embers in the lamps, interspersed with the heavy breathing of the three creatures. They waited for their master to speak.

  ‘You—failed—me,’ rasped the Dark Lord. The voice was strangely calm. Yet that in itself made it all the more menacing.

  ‘My L-Lord, it was m-my mistake,’ stammered the pisaca, trembling in fear.

  ‘Silence!’ thundered the shrouded figure. The calm tone was gone. The pisaca cowered, his tail twitching involuntarily.

  ‘You have both received grievous injuries,’ the Dark Lord glanced from the pisaca to the bonara. The voice was devoid of emotion; it was a matter-of-fact statement. The two creatures lowered their eyes in shame. They were considered to be amongst the deadliest assassins of Pataal Lok and they had not only failed their master; they had also come back thrashed and mutilated by a bunch of mortals.

  The Dark Lord moved towards the kalakanja, who too lowered his eyes at the approaching figure. ‘You seem to be in pretty good shape,’ he said softly.

  The kalakanja gave a weak smile. He didn’t know whether the master was praising him or being sarcastic. He shrugged his shoulders, ‘I did my best, My Lord. I killed ten of the enemy soldiers.’

  The shrouded figure nodded, reflecting some interest in what the kalakanja was saying, who was elated to have his master’s attention. He continued proudly, ‘I would have killed that mortal prince too, My Lord…had the soldiers not arrived at the scene.’

  ‘Hmm, yes! You would have done that indeed,’ he said softly. The kalakanja’s chest swelled with pride.

  ‘And is that why I sent you to Madhuvan in the first place? To kill those puny soldiers and that mortal prince?’ The voice was a whiplash now and the kalakanja froze with fright. All his smugness evaporated in an instant as he realized his master had been toying with him.

  The Dark Lord whispered some mantras under his breath. As the intensity of the mantras grew, the shrouded figure grew in size, till he was face to face with the towering frame of the kalakanja. The terrified creature stared into the piercing eyes of his master, and knew he would never forget this sight for the rest of his wretched life.

  ‘You let your lust for that woman get into the way of killing her,’ he rasped. ‘You failed me.’ The voice came from somewhere inside the kalakanja’s head and he knew the master was addressing him specifically. The kalakanja wanted to tell the shrouded figure that it would never happen again, that he would make up for his failure, that he wanted to beg for one last chance to make his master proud of him. But he was unable to get a word out. His tongue twisted inside his mouth and his lips contorted in unimaginable agony. He felt his body lose control over his limbs as the blazing eyes of the Dark Lord continued to gaze at him. And when he thought it couldn’t get worse, he felt his breath get stuck somewhere deep inside his throat and he felt the torture of suffocation drowning out all other sensations. In the last fleeting moments of the creature’s miserable existence, the Dark Lord lifted his veil and showed the kalakanja the face that only a handful of people had been allowed to see in the past two hundred years. Even as the last breath of life escaped the kalakanja’s mouth, he knew he would never see such a ravaged face as he had seen in his last moments. The memory of the disfigured face would haunt him forever in the lowest pit of hell, where he was being damned for eternity by his master.

  The bonara and the pisaca saw the kalakanja disappear from sight in front of their eyes. The Dark Lord still had his back towards them. He pulled the cloak around his head to cover his face again, and turned around to face the remaining two creatures. They shivered in anticipation of their own deaths as the towering figure of their master approached them. The Dark Lord stopped a few feet away from them and chanted another set of mantras. His body came down to its normal height.

  He moved in the direction of the bonara, ‘You fought bravely,’ he said softly. The voice was calm again. His rage seemed to have been washed out with the kalakanja’s death. He pointed his index finger in the direction of the bonara’s severed limb and began chanting a mantra that the two creatures had never heard before. They realized it was a mantra from the Dark Lord’s past, invoking some potent energy. A radiant blue light darted out of his index finger and enveloped the severed limb of the bonara entirely. As the passion of the mantra grew, the radiance of the blue light intensified. And before their very eyes, the pisaca and the bonara saw in awe as the severed talon was reconstructed out of thin air.

  The shrouded figure gazed in satisfaction at the rejuvenated limb of the bonara. The midget monster flexed the reconstructed talon as if he still couldn’t believe his body was whole again. Before he could thank his master, the Dark Lord had turned his attention to the pisaca. He repeated the mantra and the universal force of Brahman emanating out of his index figure sealed the mortal wound to the pisaca’s head, leaving him completely healed.

  ‘We won’t get another chance to kill Devki for some time,’ he said hoarsely. ‘Kansa and Ugrasena will ensure she is never left alone again.’

  The pisaca and the bonara waited patiently. They knew their master had something in his mind.

  ‘We will need to try a different strategy,’ the Dark Lord pondered, still lost in his own thoughts. An incongruous chuckle escaped the veil covering his face, as he decided what had to be done.

  ‘You shall go to the kingdom of Banpur,’ he commanded the Pisaca. ‘And you shall proceed to the land of the Yavanas,’ he said, instructing the bonara.

  The two creatures looked enquiringly at their master, clueless about what they had to do once they reached their respective destinations. The Dark Lord motioned to them to come closer. As they neared him, he concentrated his mind to create a shield around the three of them. He didn’t want Brahma or anyone else eavesdropping on their discussion through cosmic telepathy.

  ‘Was it necessary to kill the kalakanja, Amartya?’ The middle aged man in spotless white clothes gently admonished the Dark Lord. He was the only person who could dare to call the Dark Lord by his birth name; the only man whom the he respected enough to seek his counsel.

  ‘He failed me Bhargava,’ rasped the Dark Lord, taking the omnipresent veil off his face. Bhargava involuntarily muttered some chants to calm his mind at the sight of the ravaged face. Irrespective of how many times he saw the mutilated face, he was still unable to control the revulsion that appeared unbidden to his mind. How can he bear to see his face every day? he thought.

  ‘You could have given him another chance,’ Bhargava persisted. ‘Was it necessary to kill him? He was one of the Zataka Upanshughataks; it takes years of training to reach that level!’

  ‘I would have forgiven him for his failure,’ the Dark Lord paused, contemplatively. ‘But he failed because he wanted to ravish that mortal woman.’ He looked piercingly at the man called Bhargava. ‘I can’t allow one person’s weakness to disrupt my plans…and…’ he paused.

  ‘And? And what?’ Bhargava looked questioningly at him.

  ‘My plans don’t include the rape of innocent women,’ the Dark Lord snapped in irritation.

  Bhargava sighed. He knew he would never understand this man who had met him two hundred years back when Brahma had banished him from Swarglok. He found it okay to ask the assassins to decapitate Devki but he
killed one of his best assassins because the man tried to rape the woman. Bhargava shook his head, realizing it was impossible to get to the depths of the complex man standing in front of him. At the same time, he was happy that the Dark Lord did not endorse the rape of an innocent woman. This knowledge made it easier for him to continue his covert support towards his friend.

  ‘I saw how you reconstructed the limb of the bonara and the way you healed the pisaca,’ he said hesitantly.

  Turning his ravaged face towards Bhargava, Amartya Kalyanesu gave him a sharp glance. ‘What do you mean?’ he rasped hoarsely.

  ‘I have always wondered why you don’t reconstruct your own face,’ Bhargava replied tentatively. ‘I mean, you can obviously use the power of Brahman to make your face alright again. Why do you persist in carrying this caricature of a face when you have the power within you to change it in an instant?’

  Bhargava hadn’t intended to lose his control but he couldn’t contain his outburst at his friend’s apparent obtuseness to do anything about his ruined face.

  Amartya Kalyanesu, the man feared and known in Pataal Lok as the Dark Lord, looked thoughtfully at Bhargava. Then he spoke quietly. ‘This face…this caricature as you call it…reminds me every day of the injustice done to me. I will not alter it till I have done what I pledged to do two centuries back. It has taken me this long to set my plans in action. It won’t take much longer now. With Devki’s death, all possible hindrances to my plans will be removed forever.’

  Bhargava nodded. ‘And this decision to send the pisaca and the bonara to Banpur and the land of the Yavanas? This is part of the plan?’

  ‘Yes,’ Amartya Kalyanesu nodded. ‘This will initiate the chaos necessary to put Mrityulok in a state of anarchy.’ He smiled without humour, ‘And when that is done, the stage will be set to show Brahma what happens when you create a demon out of a god!’

  His raucous laughter filled with sadness reverberated throughout the cavernous room.

  ‘Amartya Kalyanesu has to be destroyed, My Lord!’ Brahma said, in a brave attempt to persuade his former teacher.

  ‘I agree I was unfair to him in the past,’ he continued with a slight tremour in his voice. ‘But that doesn’t give him the right to put the entire universe at risk!’ He looked defiantly at Shiva.

  Shiva appeared calm, his initial anger at the memory of what Brahma had done to Amartya two hundred years back a little subdued. He actually believes that destroying Amartya is the right thing to do, Shiva thought, as he motioned to Brahma to sit close to him.

  ‘Tell me Brahma…why do you think Amartya ought to be destroyed?’ he asked him gently.

  ‘Because he has become evil My Lord!’ Brahma automatically replied.

  ‘And why do you think he has become evil?’

  Brahma looked incredulously at Shiva. Is he serious? he thought to himself. Then he caught himself as he realized that Shiva could easily read his thoughts.

  ‘That boy…that creature…’ Brahma corrected himself trying not to let his former affection for Amartya overpower him. ‘He intends to share the secret of using the universal force of Brahman with the creatures of Pataal Lok…’ He paused here.

  ‘And?’ Shiva looked at him enquiringly. ‘I am sure there is something else bothering you.’

  ‘The only reason he could have for sharing the powers of Brahman with those vile creatures is that he intends to launch an attack on Swarglok…on all of us,’ Brahma blurted out.

  ‘And that makes him evil?’ Shiva asked gently. He raised his hand to halt Brahma from remonstrating.

  ‘Haven’t we too launched attacks on Pataal Lok from time to time in the past, Brahma? Does that make us evil too?’

  Brahma gasped. ‘We always had a good reason to attack them, My Lord. Are you comparing our reasons for attacking them with their justifications?’ He looked in astonishment at Shiva.

  ‘Reasons can always be justified Brahma. The biggest error in life is to believe that your reasons are right and the other person’s reasons are wrong.’

  ‘What…what are you saying?’ Brahma’s voice failed him.

  ‘It is the purpose that matters. Reasons are not important. Reasons can be manipulated; purpose is constant. When we attacked Pataal Lok, it was with the purpose of ensuring all-round peace in the three worlds. Right now, we don’t know what purpose Amartya has in attacking us.’

  ‘Are you saying we wait quietly for him and his horde of demons from Pataal Lok to convert Mrityulok into a wasteland…and then to come for us and destroy Swarglok too?’ Brahma allowed himself to express as much anger and disbelief as was possible without offending Shiva.

  Shiva evaded the expostulation. ‘Tell me Brahma, do you think Amarya was truly evil two centuries back, when you cursed him and banished him from Swarglok?’

  Brahma was taken aback by the change in topic. But he answered without a moment’s hesitation. ‘No, My Lord. He wasn’t evil then.’

  Shiva smiled. ‘Yet you attempted to destroy him. Today, you believe he is evil. How do you know that two hundred years from now, you may not find him to be good again?’

  ‘My Lord, you are trying to confuse me!’ Brahma protested. ‘Amartya may have been good then, and I made a mistake in cursing him. But today he has indeed turned evil. And frankly, two hundred years from now, there may be nothing left for us to wonder whether he is good or evil any more. The three worlds as we know them today may cease to exist if he is allowed to live. He is evil, and evil has to be destroyed.’

  Brahma paused, looking Shiva in the eye. ‘You have to destroy him, My Lord!’ Shiva’s face was expressionless. ‘What makes you think I will destroy Amartya?’

  ‘Because you have always destroyed evil, My Lord!’ Brahma was perplexed at Shiva’s attitude. He had thought once Shiva knew of the danger Amartya posed, he would himself be keen to deal with him. But Shiva seemed totally non-committal.

  ‘I have destroyed evil, when it has become too large to be accommodated any longer, Brahma. Never before that. And it has not happened yet!’

  ‘But, My Lord…’ Brahma rose from his seat to protest, but Shiva interrupted him.

  ‘Remember when I destroy evil, everything along with it gets destroyed too. All the goodness too, will be decimated. This is why I come in only when evil has grown to such massive proportions that it justifies destroying the residual good along with the overpowering evil. Right now, the evil you speak of has not reached that stage. It doesn’t warrant my coming in.’

  Brahma looked in frustration at the being he respected more than anyone else in the world. ‘Then there is no hope for us!’ he sighed. ‘Amartya will equip the demons in Pataal Lok with the force of Brahman and strengthened with the powers of Bal and Atibal, those vile creatures will convert Mrityulok into one vast graveyard. And then they…’

  ‘It won’t happen’ Shiva cut him short.

  ‘It…what?’ Brahma stared uncomprehendingly at him.

  ‘It won’t happen,’ Shiva reiterated. ‘Amartya will not be able to infuse the demons with the force of Brahman.’

  ‘You mean he may not remember the mantras of Bal and Atibal necessary to channellize the force of Brahman within the demons?’ Brahma asked dubiously, knowing that Amartya’s memory was unimpeachable.

  ‘It has nothing to do with the mantras or with his memory, Brahma,’ Shiva explained, reading his thoughts. ‘For the power of Brahman to get activated within a person’s body, there has to be a rare degree of goodness within that person. If that goodness doesn’t exist, no mantra in the world can succeed in imbuing a person with the noble power of Brahman.’

  ‘And that goodness doesn’t exist in the creatures of Pataal Lok,’ Brahma said exultantly.

  ‘That’s right,’ Shiva nodded. ‘But it goes far deeper than that. The demons are infused with the force of Aghasamarthan—a form of evil energy—not as potent as the force of Brahman, but still extremely forceful. Just as the force of Brahman pervades our being as a blue light, the for
ce of Aghasamarthan fills up their consciousness with a green light. As long as the dark force of Aghasamarthan is in their bodies, they will be unable to accept the cleansing energy of Brahman. Their bodies will simply reject the energy, irrespective of any mantras that Amartya may use to infuse them with its powers.’

  ‘Aum-Num-Ha-Shi-Vai,’ Brahma bowed respectfully to Shiva. His mind was far more relaxed than it had ever been since his last meeting with Narada. ‘What do I do now, My Lord?’ he enquired.

  ‘You said Amartya plans to lay waste to Mrityulok before he decides to attack Swarglok.’ It was more of a question than a statement and Brahma nodded in agreement.

  Shiva seemed lost in thought for a brief moment. Then he spoke softly, as if to himself. ‘Amartya will try and use someone else to fuel his plans of creating chaos in Mrityulok. Yes, that’s what he will do!’

  He looked at Brahma. ‘Is Narada still at home or has he left on his wanderings yet again?’

  Brahma was caught off guard at the question. Then he smiled at the mention of his son who was famous for his nomadic roaming around the three worlds. ‘He is still there, My Lord. But he plans to visit Mrityulok soon.’

  Shiva nodded, ‘Good. Tell him to do that. And ask him to keep an eye out for any strange occurrences. He should report to you, without the slightest delay anything out of the ordinary.’

  Brahma looked questioningly at Shiva.

  Shiva sighed. Brahma was a great man but he had never been a warrior in the true sense of the word. He had been too busy with the conceptualization of Mrityulok, to really focus on the wars that had been going on between the demons and the gods since the beginning of existence. That had been the job of the demi-gods, under the guidance of Shiva and Vishnu. It wasn’t surprising therefore that Brahma found it difficult to think as a warrior would in these circumstances.

  He explained to Brahma, ‘When you want to take over an enemy land, you don’t just attack them from the outside. That’s too predictable and the enemy can always shield themselves against such an event. What you do therefore, is to create chaos and anarchy within the enemy territory.’