THE CURSE OF BRAHMA

by Jagmohan Bhanver

  ‘This is not normal, My Lord!’ Aniruddha said suddenly. Vasudev looked questioningly at the spy.

  ‘Doesn’t the complete absence of wildlife strike you as strange?’ Aniruddha asked softly.

  Vasudev nodded slowly, understanding dawning on his face. It was rare not to observe any sign of an animal this deep into the forest. Even the occasional chirping of the birds had disappeared for some time now. The implications were too obvious to miss. This part of the woods seemed to have been marked by someone; someone whose presence was deadly enough to have scared away even the natural predators of the jungle.

  ‘The asuras are nearby,’ Vasudev whispered, more to himself than to anyone else. And they seem to be present in large numbers to have this kind of impact on the surroundings, he reflected, his senses on high alert.

  He recalled Narada mentioning in their last meeting that there were at least a thousand asura assassins hidden away in each of the major kingdoms of Mrityulok. Judging by the strategic importance of Hastinapur, Vasudev guessed the size of the assassin module stationed in this city would be considerably larger than a thousand. Assuming that the assassins had built separate encampments, and each of the three bylanes he and his men had taken led to one of those camps, Vasudev’s men would probably be up against a force three to four times their own size.

  Vasudev held up his hand and called a halt. He didn’t know how far they were from the asura site. But if they had to have a reasonable chance of surviving and possibly winning the battle, he would need a more strategic battle formation for his men. Non-verbal signals were swiftly exchanged and the hundred men under his command quietly shifted their positions till he had each warrior exactly where he wanted him. The twenty lancers were placed at the head of the formation. They carried spears extending one gavuta in length and were crafted to pierce even through heavy armour. The strongest men wielded the lances, which an ordinary soldier would have found difficult to raise with both hands, leave aside carry them in one arm, for an extended period of time. Behind the lancers came forty of the regular cavalrymen, wielding swords. They were ideal for hand-to-hand combat and each of them was capable of engaging with several opponents at the same time. The tail end of the structure was brought up by the archers. Vasudev decided they would be the ones to unleash the first part of his lethal assault on the asuras. He gave a grim smile, satisfied at last with the way his small force had been arranged.

  The company of a hundred men followed the prince, the adrenaline pumping through their veins beginning to make its presence felt in the way they carried themselves. Each of the men had left behind a declaration of how their assets should be distributed in the event that they failed to return from this mission. They had nothing to fear now. They knew if they died fighting the enemy, their families would be taken care of by the king of Madhuvan. But the lure of money is not what drove them this day. While each of these men had fought earlier as mercenaries, this was the first time they were willing to fight and die for their motherland. Glory awaited them, and it banished any fear of death they might have ever had.

  To Vasudev’s surprise, the forest ended abruptly and opened into a vast meadow. At the far end of the meadow, a new stretch of forest started. This one was far denser than the one they had just exited.

  The tracker stopped suddenly. Something had attracted his attention at the threshold of the adjoining forest. He peered in its direction, trying to ascertain what it was. There was nothing! Then his trained eyes detected an almost imperceptible movement directly ahead of him, about five hundred paces away. His eyes widened in horror as he understood what he had seen. But the realization dawned too late. He opened his mouth to shout a warning to Vasudev but his scream was cut short by an arrow that went straight through his mouth and exited behind his neck. The tracker dropped to his knees, his sword dropping from his hands. Vasudev and his men watched mesmerized as the tracker’s head separated in slow motion from the rest of his body and rolled in their direction, coming to a stop just in front of Vasudev’s horse. Vasudev stared at the sightless eyes of the tracker, reflecting all the terror of the dead man, just before the arrow had unerringly found its mark.

  Ghora prepared to string another arrow even as Vasudev recovered from the shock of seeing his tracker cut down in front of him. Ghora’s next arrow raced through the air and the impact of it threw Aniruddha off his horse. He was dead even before he fell to the ground. The arrow had pierced through the armour and gone right through his heart. Vasudev had never seen an arrow capable of piercing through armour. He knew at once that the enemy showering death on his men was no ordinary warrior. He also knew another thing—he was going to have that warrior’s head before this battle was over.

  ‘Shield your bodies!’ he shouted to his men as a hail of arrows descended on them. He watched with grim satisfaction as his men rasied their massive shields to protect themselves from the deadly enemy projectiles.

  ‘Agneebaan!’ he bellowed to the archers, even as the asura’s arrows rained on them from all sides.

  The formidable archers of the Madhuvan task force dipped their massive arrows in portable cauldrons of fire; and stringing them on their mighty bows, they let loose their Agneebaans in the direction of the enemy forces. The arrows, laced with oil, erupted in fire even as they left the bow. The archers had fired the arrows in an upward arc, aiming their missiles at the trees which shielded the asura assassins. The dry leaves and wood on the trees served as combustion material and there was a conflagration as the fire spread from tree to tree. The archers continued to fire the Agneebaans and as they descended on the enemy, it looked like the gods were raining down their wrath on the assassins.

  Vasudev heard screams of unbearable agony as the assassins poured out of the blazing forest into the meadow. A significant number of these men were half-burnt and would die a torturous death. Vasudev disregarded them for the moment. It was a mistake he would soon regret.

  Looking in the direction of those assassins who had somehow miraculously escaped being burnt, he roared a command to his lancers. ‘Spears at the ready men!’ he bellowed. ‘Take the largest of the assassins first.’ The lancers raised their spears in front of them and galloped towards these men.

  Vasudev looked on as the asuras rapidly re-assembled their badly depleted forces under the command of their leader. He estimated that the forest fire had probably cost the asuras more than half their force. But he could still make out at least four hundred of them. Even with close to a hundred in a burnt state, that still left three hundred enemy survivors; three times the number of his own unit.

  Vasudev was too far to see the leader’s face but he noticed the calm and assured way with which the man carried himself. He watched with incredulity as the assassin’s leader instructed his half-dead men to cover their unharmed comrades. He realized what the asura leader intended to do but it was too late. His lancers were too far and riding too fast for him to shout a warning. He watched as the incredibly strong lancers smashed their way through the enemy wall. But the major share of their charge succeeded only in giving a quick death to the asuras who were already half-dead. By the time, the lancers were done with their charge, more than a hundred asuras lay dead on the ground, their bodies broken by the force of the assault. Unfortunately, this was an empty victory for Vasudev as the asura leader had used his already dying men to exhaust the strongest portion of Vasudev’s unit—his lancers. And now the lancers were encircled on all sides by the assassins.

  Vasudev realized his twenty lancers stood no chance against the three-hundred-odd assassins who had them surrounded. Without waiting for the rest of his men to follow, Vasudev goaded his horse in the direction of the enemy. The leader of the asuras, astride his own horse saw him coming. He calmly picked up his bow and even as Vasudev looked on, he shot five arrows in quick succession. At first, Vasudev thought the asura had badly miscalculated his aim. Each of the five arrows landed harmlessly in the ground, ahead of him. In the very next instant, he realized tha
t he had deliberately fired the arrows to fall short; they now stood firmly in the ground, arranged horizontally and blocking his way. Too swift to stop in time, Vasudev’s horse crashed into the barrier formed by the arrows and he was thrown off his mount. He staggered to his feet and in the distance, saw the asura leader smiling serenely at him.

  Vasudev gasped. The man who led the asuras could not have been more than nineteen. His face displayed a vulnerability that was at odds with the calculated brutality he had demonstrated. The contradiction was confusing and terrifying at the same time. The manner in which he had toppled him off the horse told Vasudev this was a master archer; a formidable warrior. And it was in that moment that he realized he was staring at the man who had killed his tracker and Aniruddha.

  Ghora smiled unruffled as he felt Vasudev’s gaze upon him. He knew he could have easily shot the commander of the Madhuvan force instead of dislodging him from his horse. But he did not want to give him an easy death. Six hundred of his companions had perished in the fire and another one hundred brave men had been cut down by this man’s lancers. He would give him a death that the warrior’s people would remember for ages, when they spoke about this battle. But first, he had to deal with the lancers who had ruthlessly killed his men.

  ‘Cut off their heads,’ he said softly, as his assassins circled the lancers.

  Even as Vasudev jumped on the back of his horse, he saw with horror a horde of assassins descending on each of his twenty lancers. The Madhuvan men fought valiantly but in a matter of seconds, the sheer strength of the enemy’s numbers took its toll on them. Twenty heads rolled to the ground, in quick succession.

  Vasudev’s swordsmen were already engaged in fighting a separate battle with the rest of the asuras. His archers, who had exhausted their supply of arrows in the previous assault, had also taken out their swords and were bravely fighting for their lives and for the honour of their motherland. But it was a futile effort against the superior numbers of the asuras, and Vasudev’s men were being killed with frightening speed.

  Vasudev knew the battle would be over for him and his men within the next few minutes. But he had a vow to fulfil before he died. He wanted the head of the asura leader; now more than ever before. He nudged his horse in the direction of the enemy.

  A loud roar of ‘Har Har Mahadev!’ temporarily halted the uneven battle between Vasudev’s rapidly diminishing force and Ghora’s horde of assassins. All eyes turned to see where the deafening war cry of Madhuvan had erupted from. Vasudev breathed in relief as the two battalions swarmed out of the forest behind them, with Airawat and Tantra in the lead. Thank God they made it in time, Vasudev thought with grim satisfaction.

  The outlook on the battlefield was suddenly transformed as Airawat and Tantra led their men to the core of Ghora’s force. The asuras who had almost tasted victory in their mind were now faced with the immediate prospect of fighting a force much larger than theirs. Vasudev’s remaining men battled with regained fervour and the tide started shifting in favour of the men from Madhuvan.

  Tantra was fearsome to behold as he chose to attack the three largest opponents on the battlefield. He charged, knocking two of them to the ground as his horse rammed into them. Tantra buried the point of his spear into the chest of one of the men, and as the second one struggled to get up, the veteran commander sliced his neck off with his sword. The third asura recovered quickly from the intensity of the attack and thrust his sword at Tantra’s torso, who brought up his shield to parry the blow. The sword slipped out of the asura’s hand.

  ‘Burn in hell!’ Tantra said calmly as he dug his sword into his opponent’s neck. The asura brought both hands up to his throat and tried to stem the rapid flow of blood, but he was beyond salvage. He stumbled and dropped to the ground.

  Tantra turned his horse towards Airawat. The cavalry commander was valiantly fighting a large number of assassins who had him completely surrounded. Airawat fought bravely though his strength had been seriously depleted, owing to loss of blood from his new wound. Tantra noticed a change in Airawat. The normally quiet man fought with a passion that was awe-inspiring. His eyes burnt with a strange fury, and he ruthlessly hacked at the men attacking him, even as more of them kept coming at him. Tantra let out a whoop and rushed forward to support Airawat.

  Airawat seemed oblivious to Tantra as he battled the enemy, with complete concentration. He seemed to be under some kind of a spell where the blood lust had subdued any other feelings he may have had. Finally, the assassins around him were all dead, lying in an ever expanding pool of their own blood. Airawat stopped swinging his sword, and gradually his body seemed to lose some of its tension. He took in deep breaths of air and felt the blood lust begin to leave his system. He became aware of Tantra staring at him anxiously, and he gave the veteran a grim smile. The two men looked around the battlefield. The serene meadow had been transformed into one huge deathbed of warriors from both sides. Bodies lay strewn all across the field. The entire enemy force had been annihilated. The three hundred and fifty Madhuvan warriors who had survived stood watching a private battle about to take place at the other end of the field. Airawat saw Vasudev face to face with an asura, preparing for single combat.

  The colour drained from Airawat’s face as he noticed the tattoo on the warrior’s arms. The tattoo represented his fighting prowess. In the land of asuras, this tattoo was only worn by someone who had been accorded the status of an Asakya Sura; a warrior who was considered almost invincible. Even the terrible Zataka Upanshughataks were no match for a warrior of this stature. Airawat knew no one had ever fought an Asakya Sura and lived to tell the tale. And even though he had seen Vasudev’s incredible talent in sword fighting during his visit to Bateshwar, he wondered if the prince would prove equal to this opponent.

  Vasudev faced the warrior who had killed Aniruddha and the tracker. He noticed the strange symbol tattooed on the right arm of his enemy. It had at its centre, a circle from which eight Trishuls emanated, pointing in different directions. Vasudev was incredulous. The trishul was the preferred weapon of the Mahadev. The significance of the eight trishuls did not escape Vasudev’s attention either. As a Bharatvanshi, he knew the relevance of the number eight. The loop in the number indicated that we always came back to where we started our journey of life; hence, existence was infinite. When rotated at an angle of ninety degrees, the number took on the sign of infinity, again proving the infiniteness of the universe. Vasudev wondered why this warrior carried on his body a symbol that indicated his respect for Lord Shiva, and why an asura would give importance to a number that was considered holy by the Bharatvanshis of Mrityulok.

  While he found all of this immensely surprising, it was the eyes of the Asura leader that left him completely astonished. They looked like a much older man’s eyes set in the face of a child. They seemed to contain within their depths a lifetime of pain, and despite his rage at what the asura had done to his people, Vasudev felt himself inexplicably drawn to this man, in a way that was difficult for him to fathom.

  Ghora looked around them. His eyes took in the carnage. All his men were dead. Companions with whom he had spent the last few months; thought of as family, all of them were gone. He had failed them as their leader. And he had also failed Ugra, the one man he had learnt to love and respect.

  ‘You are their leader?’ the harsh voice of Vasudev broke into his thoughts.

  ‘Yes, I am!’ Ghora answered, meeting Vasudev’s gaze. ‘Or should I say, I was…’ He left the sentence incomplete.

  ‘They got what they deserved,’ Vasudev retorted unforgiving. ‘And by Vishnu, you shall soon join them soon!’ he whispered softly, his eyes not leaving his opponent even for a moment.

  Ghora smiled. It was a sad smile, but he appeared unruffled. ‘Then you shouldn’t waste time talking, should you?’ he said quietly.

  Vasudev was astounded at the uncanny calm his enemy displayed in the face of such daunting circumstances. He wished he could know this strange man better, but t
oo much water had flown under the bridge for that to happen now. The man would have to bear the consequences for what he had done.

  Vasudev raised his sword. ‘Prepare to fight,’ he said, his eyes narrowing.

  The two fighters circled each other, each looking for an opening in the other’s defense. There was none, on either side. Suddenly Vasudev thrust his sword at Ghora’s throat. The blow would have impaled him had he not moved adroitly out of the way. Vasudev pulled back his sword and stepped sideways. The dexterity with which Ghora had avoided his attack surprised him. Vasudev took a deep breath to calm himself. He didn’t want to waste his energy on ineffectual manoeuvres. He tried another approach. He made a feinting move, making it appear as if he was aiming for Ghora’s torso. Ghora appeared to take the bait and raised his sword sideways to parry the assault on his body, leaving his lower body vulnerable to attack. This is what Vasudev had hoped for. He relaxed his grip on the sword and in one fluid motion, lowered the blade aiming instead for the enemy’s feet.

  Airawat, watching the fight closely, thought that Vasudev had the asura then, but in an unexpected movement, Ghora simply stepped aside. Vasudev’s sword missed the foot and pierced the ground. The impact jarred every bone in Vasudev’s body and he made a herculean effort to pull the sword back out again. In the same instant, Ghora brought his sword to Vasudev’s throat and a collective gasp went up amongst the onlookers.

  ‘You are dead, my friend!’ Ghora whispered, as a trickle of blood started from under Vasudev’s chin. ‘Make it quick then,’ Vasudev replied without a trace of fear.