THE CURSE OF BRAHMA

by Jagmohan Bhanver

  ‘Amartya, you have the power of tapping into the universal energy that allows you to read whatever happened in the past or will possible happen in the future. Can’t you use that to find out who the traitor is?’

  Amartya Kalyanesu suppressed his impatience. ‘Do you think I have not tried that already?’

  Bhargava stared at his friend. Amartya was uncharacteristically short-tempered with him today. He had never shown signs of impatience with him before this. He must be really troubled, he thought.

  ‘So what happened?’ he asked. ‘What did you find out?’

  ‘Nothing!’ Amartya Kalyanesu sighed in exasperation. ‘Someone has created a protective shield over the traitor. Someone who knew I could use my powers of cosmic telepathy to find out who betrayed us.’

  ‘But can’t you breach the shield?’ Bhargava queried.

  Amartya shook his head, ‘No. The shield is made up of potent Brahman energy. It protects the thoughts of the person being shielded in a way that no one except the person who has created the shield can breach it.’

  ‘Who could have the power to do this?’ Bhargava wondered aloud.

  ‘Only a maharishi, a brahmarishi or one of the three supreme gods could have created such a shield,’ Amartya replied quietly. Since Narada knows about our plans, it is most likely he who created the shield around the traitor before speaking to him.’

  ‘So there is no way we can find out who the person is?’ Bhargava asked with grave concern.

  ‘It’s unlikely,’ replied Amartya quietly.

  Both of them were silent for a while. ‘What do we do now?’ Bhargava asked gravely.

  Amartya spoke and his voice was deathly calm. There was no sign of the agitation and anger that had been there just a few moments before.

  ‘The fact that they know our plan will definitely go against us,’ he said, then paused. He seemed to weigh his words before continuing. ‘But they still don’t know the details. Our assassins are spread out all over their land. By the time they warn the kingdoms they think will listen to them, we will send in more assassins through kingdoms like Magadha and Madhuvan…especially Madhuvan.’

  ‘Why Madhuvan?’ Bhargava quizzed him.

  ‘Madhuvan has the largest border with Pataal Lok. Even if they mount the strongest security around their borders, we will still be able to send in more assassins through their kingdom than through any other land.’

  ‘Hmm,’ Bhargava said thoughtfully. ‘But won’t Ugrasena set up measures against such a plan? And don’t forget his son Kansa is a powerful and intrepid warrior.’

  ‘Kansa will not oppose us, Bhargava. The asura blood of his birth father runs within him. And the demonic tendencies of his birth legacy were activated when he was almost killed by my trio of assassins during the attack on his sister.’

  Bhargava looked confused. ‘I don’t understand. What do you mean?’ he asked.

  ‘Kansa has within him the blood of a mortal and a demon. His mortal side comes from his mother, Padmavati, and the demonic part is inherited from his birth father, who seduced his mother. Since Kansa spent his entire life with mortals, his demonic side never got a chance to exert itself. And truth be told, his mortal side has been so dominant that it would have been impossible for his other half to have ever come up on its own.’

  ‘Then…’ Bhargava started to interrupt but was stopped by Amartya.

  ‘During the attack on his sister, Kansa was fatally wounded by two of my assassins, a bonara and a pisaca. He was in a precarious state when the Madhuvan soldiers carried him back to his palace. The royal vaid there tried his best to save Kansa but by then it was impossible for anyone to have salvaged his life. His mortal half was not strong enough to fight the grievous wounds he had received. A normal mortal would have died at this point. But Kansa is different. When his mortal side gave up, his demonic half, which had lain dormant in his system for so long, took over automatically. His body started to produce more of the demonic life cells, and it was this that eventually saved his life.’

  Amartya paused to scratch the burnt part of his face. It always itched more when he allowed his emotions to get the better of him, even temporarily. ‘In time, as the demon cells inside his system start replicating themselves, whatever little of the mortal is left within him will disappear. His demonic side will take over completely.’

  Bhargava tried to assimilate this new information. ‘How long will it take…for his demonic side to take control, I mean?’

  ‘It might take days, or it could be months before it happens,’ Amartya replied. ‘Kansa is an unusually noble man, and in spite of the demon cells growing within him, his intrinsic goodness will fight against the latent evil struggling to erupt inside him. The only thing that can possibly accelerate his complete transformation into a demon will be if he faces some severe trauma during this period.’

  ‘What kind of trauma?’ Bhargava probed.

  ‘Anything. Any major emotional or psychological upheaval in his life could push him over to the dark side completely and irrevocably.’

  ‘And if and when that happens, how would he change?’ Bhargava asked.

  ‘He will go completely insane and unpredictable. Remember he is not a pure demon. Someone who is raised as a demon may not have any qualms of doing what they have to do, no matter how evil they may have to become. In Kansa’s case, while his conscious behaviour may eventually mirror a demon’s, his mortal side will always keep surfacing to confuse him. Over a period of time, he will become a paranoid schizophrenic. And this could make him more dangerous and evil than any other demon would otherwise be.’

  Bhargava was quiet. He was a man of principles and had never hurt anyone in his life without cause. He had the greatest respect for people like Kansa. It pained him to know what lay in store for the noble prince but there was nothing he or anyone could do now. What had to be done would be done. The destruction of Kansa, if necessary, would need to be tolerated for the greater good. But there was something else that had been bothering him for many weeks and he needed to know the answer to it now.

  ‘Amartya,’ he looked at his friend. ‘Why is it necessary to kill Devki? What has she done to us?’

  Amartya returned Bhargava’s gaze with equanimity. He had an inscrutable expression on his face. ‘Nothing!’ he said softly. ‘She has done nothing to us…yet.’

  Bhargava did not miss the emphasis on the last word. But his face told Amartya that he had not understood his meaning at all.

  ‘Devki can be the greatest stumbling block to our plan in the future, Bhargava,’ Amartya said haltingly.

  ‘How can she…’ Bhargava stopped mid-sentence. ‘Did you see something in the future?’ he asked, suddenly, his eyes betraying his anxiety.

  Amartya sighed. It never ceased to surprise him how other people—even people as evolved as Bhargava—thought that a brahmarishi could see the future with ease. ‘Let’s just say that I saw something that indicates Devki could be a danger to our plan in the future.’

  Bhargava shook his head in exasperation. ‘What does that mean? You either saw her being a danger or you didn’t! Why the confusion, then?’

  ‘Bhargava, people like me and the other brahmarishis can see the past with clarity. Because what has already happened is completely certain and without any ambiguity.’ He paused, reflecting how to explain the dilemma to the only friend he had had since he was banished to Pataal Lok by Brahma. ‘The future, however, is uncertain. It changes every moment. At best, we can see possibilities of what could eventually happen. There are so many possibilities that one can never be completely sure of what will really happen.’

  Bhargava stared uncomprehendingly at Amartya. ‘Are you saying that not even the three supreme gods can see with certainty what will happen in the future?’ he asked incredulously.

  Amartya nodded silently.

  ‘By Shiva and Vishnu!’ Bhargava exclaimed. ‘Then how in the name of everything holy can you be so sure that Devki will pose a danger to us
in the future?’

  Amartya frowned unconsciously. But his answer was quick, ‘Because every possible scenario that I am able to pick up from the energy flowing in the universe shows Devki as the one person who can ruin everything we have planned.’

  ‘How can a mortal woman undo what you and I have planned? You are amongst the most powerful brahmarishis and I…I have some powers too!’ Bhargava spoke with an air of disbelief in his voice.

  Amartya smiled. He knew Bhargava was being humble in voicing his own abilities. The unassuming man who had befriended him so willingly two centuries back was perhaps amongst the most powerful asuras in Pataal Lok. But he had the soul of a brahmarishi. Perhaps even more than that, Amartya thought to himself.

  ‘You didn’t answer me, Amartya. How can a mortal woman upset something that you and I have planned with such care over the past two hundred years?’ Bhargava sounded impatient and this was rare for him.

  ‘Devki will not ruin our plans directly,’ Amartya said almost in a whisper. ‘But it is through Devki that our designs could come to nothing.’

  Bhargava looked even more confused. ‘What does that mean? Stop talking in riddles!’

  Amartya bent close to his friend. And when he spoke, his voice had a note of despair that cut through Bhargava’s heart. ‘Devki will have a son with Vasudev. Every vision of the future that I have been able to foresee shows only one thing. Her son will undo everything that we have planned till now. Once he is born, it will be almost impossible to use the support of Mrityulok in the fight against the devas.’

  There was an uneasy silence as Bhargava tried to take in what Amartya had just said.

  ‘Is this why you sent your three upanshughataks to kill Devki? So that her marriage with Vasudev never comes to pass, and that…that child is never born?’ Bhargava’s voice was unsteady but his mind was clear.

  ‘That’s correct,’ Amartya nodded.

  ‘So what happens now? She is safe and will possibly marry Vasudev in the next few days.’

  ‘She will marry Vasudev. This became a certainty when the pisaca and the other two upanshughataks failed to kill her that day.’ Amartya paused, scratching the side of his face again. ‘But her child will not be born. At least not if I can do anything about it,’ his voice had a strange faraway tone, as if he was there and yet not there.

  ‘How will that happen Amartya?’ Bhargava said, clutching at some possibility of reprieve.

  Amartya looked him in the eye. When he spoke his voice sounded different, almost sad. ‘Kansa will kill every child she brings into this world. Her son will never be born.’

  Bhargava blanched. His soul recoiled at the very thought of infants being murdered in cold blood. For a moment, he was tempted to forsake all the plans Amartya and he had so meticulously laid down over the past several years. Was revenge worth this carnage? he thought with anguish. Was anything worth this? But then he remembered his mother lying in a pool of her own blood, her head severed from her body. The thought helped him steel his mind against any thought of abandoning their plan. He would have his revenge on Indra and the rest of the devas. And Amartya would have his revenge on Brahma, and Indra too. Yes, it was definitely worth it!

  Training of the Asura Assassins

  t was nearing dusk. Five dozen newly inducted asuras were being trained in various deadly arts, including close-combat manoeuvres, archery and duelling with swords. They had been handpicked by Ugra, the Chief of the Zataka Upanshughataks. Ugra had joined the upanshughataks clan two hundred and thirty years back and had quickly made a name for himself as one of the foremost assassins in Pataal Lok. His services were not only sought by some of the most fearsome asura kings but also by some of the rulers of Mrityulok from time to time, when they wanted to execute a particularly dangerous enemy without wanting to indulge in a full-scale war. Ugra was massively built and had more kills to his credit than any of the other Zataka Upanshughataks. His favoured weapon of death was the axe and he wielded it with a skill that was both fearsome to behold and hypnotic. Ugra owed his allegiance only to one person—Bhargava.

  Several years ago, Ugra had been justly accused of assassinating one of the asura council members and had suffered the misfortune of being caught in the act. It was the first and the only time he had been trapped while fulfilling a contract and the other council members had bayed for his blood. At this point in time, Ugra hadn’t yet become the chief of the Zataka Upanshughataks—the dreaded tribe of the hundred assassins—and he did not wield significant influence amongst the clan. In fact, there were a lot of his tribesmen who seemed happy to be getting rid of him, none more so than their chief, who saw Ugra as a threat to his power. Consequently, the asura council did not have any fear of the upanshughataks taking revenge on them for sentencing one of their kind to death.

  Ugra was supposed to be hanged upside down over a burning cauldron of oil and left to die a slow and torturous death as the flaming oil would swallow him bit by bit. The thing that infuriated him most was that the person who had given him the contract for killing the asura council member was also present amongst the people who voted for his death. Ugra could have implicated the man and perhaps got a lighter sentence. But it wasn’t in his nature to squeal on a client. And he knew that the other council members would probably not even believe him even if he decided to betray the man who had handed him the contract. He kept silent, even as he was tied and hauled up with his head facing the ground. As the first blast of oil fumes from the cauldron hit him in the face, he saw a slightly built man staring strangely at him, from amongst the first row of onlookers who had gathered to witness his punishment. The man was dressed in white and had long flowing hair. He was obviously someone who commanded great respect among the council members, even though he didn’t look like an asura. In fact, Ugra couldn’t help wondering even in that moment that the slightly built man could possibly pass off as a mortal. As the fumes grew stronger and the heat became unbearable, Ugra noticed this man in animated conversation with the asura council. A heated discussion seemed to be taking place between the man in white and the key council members who had voted in favour of Ugra’s execution. Then, as suddenly as it had started, the discussion stopped.

  Ugra noticed the chairperson of the asura council motioning hastily to one of the soldiers. And just when Ugra was certain his head was going to be boiled while he was still alive, the soldier, accompanied by his colleagues, removed the cauldron from where it stood. The relief from the scorching heat was beyond description. Ugra felt he could breathe again. Someone cut him loose and he fell to the ground, unhurt but a little dazed with the ordeal of the past few minutes. As he was led away by the soldiers, he happened to pass the man in white. Just as he crossed him, the man bent over and whispered something to him. Ugra nodded and moved on. From that moment on, he was forever indebted to Bhargava, the man in white, the man who had somehow persuaded the asura council to let him go free. Ugra never found out how Bhargava had managed the miracle, and Bhargava didn’t find it important to tell him. But a debt had been placed on him, and Ugra was not a man who forgot to pay his debts.

  Ugra rose to become the chief of the Zataka Upanshughataks within a few years of this incident. The former chief had been found with his head cut off, lying in a gutter outside the city walls. The modus operandi of beheading his victim’s head was known to be Ugra’s and the other upanshughataks knew this. Yet such was the fear inspired by Ugra amongst his clansmen that none of them dared to voice their suspicions, even amongst themselves.

  Ugra took over as the chief upanshughatak without any incident. The first thing he did was to instill a sense of brotherhood amongst his men. Till now, the hundred-odd assassins in the clan operated more as individuals and there were recurring instances of territorial fighting and petty disputes over available contracts. With Ugra taking over as the chief, the upanshughataks were assembled like a mini army with one general—Ugra himself. Everyone took their orders from him and he was careful to ensure that he was fai
r to each of them, without any favourites gaining ground as had happened under the former chief. Ugra made it clear to the assassins that they were a family and would have to look out for each other, irrespective of any personal differences. Any petty dispute would be resolved with a heavy hand. No one person could gain precedence over the whole tribe. The rules he laid for his clan ensured that they operated as a tightly knit team, with their loyalty only to one person, Ugra.

  Unlike when Ugra had been captured and sentenced, now if any of the upanshughatak clansmen were captured by the Pataal Lok officials, the tribe would launch an offensive of such magnitude that no one would dare to meddle with their affairs in the future. There were a few random incidents where some overenthusiastic official would arrest an upanshughatak for questioning. The result was always the same. Before the day was through, the official’s body would be found decapitated, and the captured upanshughatak would be freed by the other clansmen. In time, no one dared to arrest or cross the way of the upanshughataks. Even the asura king, Vrushaparva, did not dare to carry out an offense against Ugra and his assassin army.

  In order to ensure that they did not provoke the Pataal Lok government to take serious steps against them, Ugra made it a point to have his tribe settle some distance away from the main city, and his men were instructed to avoid any incidents unless there was a contract to be fulfilled or one of their members had been captured and had to be freed. The upanshughatak tribe grew in fame and strength. Once in every few years, a clansman would flout a major rule and go against the ethos set by Ugra. The result was instant death. A new recruit would take the place left vacant by such an event. The number of upanshughataks never exceeded a hundred, including Ugra, and each of the assassins belonging to this tribe were the best in Pataal Lok. They included different categories of asuras—pisacas, bonaras, bhutas, pretas, kalakanjas and several other forms of the Pataal Lok inhabitants. But each of them had only one identity. They were known as a Zataka Upanshughatak.