The Sage's Secret

by Abhinav Menon

  Anirudh stopped searching to his right and looked down at the half-empty bottle in his hand. Suddenly, he got the feeling that someone was watching him. He whipped around to his left and was rendered speechless.

  Standing before him was a smiling man in his late forties, clad in saffron robes. Hanging from his shoulder was an old black bag. The sage’s face was round, with a flat-tipped nose, puffy cheeks and a beard, and he had a wheatish complexion. His forehead was marked with a small red tika and his hair was tied in a bun on top of his head. To Anirudh, he looked like a typical Indian sage, except for the fact that his body was unusually fit. Another odd feature about him was the locket hanging from his necklace.

  The spiral half of a broken conch shell!

  FIFTEEN

  Anirudh’s heart was racing. The man before him was none other than Sage Dweepa!

  When the boy got to his feet and turned to him, Dweepa had to fight the surge of emotions. The boy’s face was that of his lord’s, and the dark eyes were intently looking at his own. Finally, they settled on his locket, and the sage knew the boy had recognized it.

  ‘Sage Dweepa?’

  Dweepa’s pulse quickened. He nodded and bowed his head. ‘My lord!’

  Anirudh closed his eyes … he was too dazed to believe this was really happening. Receiving the confirmation that the person in front of him was indeed Sage Dweepa was too much to process. For this confirmed everything. That his dreams were real. That he was Kalki! He felt the walls of reality closing in on him. It felt like a sharp knife was stuck in his throat, choking his windpipe, not letting him breathe. With a less-than-audible intake of breath, he brought himself back to the present moment.

  ‘Please don’t call me lord. Um … I’m not one,’ he said awkwardly, opening his eyes and bowing his head slightly. Then he smiled, embarrassed.

  Dweepa looked at the mesmerizing smile. It was unmistakably his lord’s smile!

  An uncomfortable silence passed between them. Neither knew what to say.

  Then Anirudh finally spoke. ‘So, this is true? It’s all true. You do exist.’

  ‘Yes, it is true.’ After a pause, the sage asked, ‘May I know your name, my lord?’

  ‘My name is Anirudh. And I told you, please do not call me your lord.’

  Dweepa smiled softly and thought, Anirudh, the unstoppable. Counted twice in the thousand names of Lord Vishnu. Aniruddhah … He who cannot be obstructed, who is invincible against any enemy. A name befitting the person whose enemies now are much stronger than him. Anirudh is indeed Kalki, for no enemy of Kalki can ever defeat him. And Kalki himself will never stop in his quest to vanquish evil. The name Anirudh suits Kalki perfectly.

  Dweepa studied the boy standing in front of him. Though young, he seemed to have a certain air of maturity about him. ‘Okay, Anirudh. I will call you by your name.’

  Anirudh nodded and looked towards the beach. His friends were still playing in the water, unaware of Dweepa’s presence.

  Dweepa continued. ‘Though I would prefer to call you by your avatar’s name, I cannot because …’

  ‘… Because my enemies should not know who I am. As they are stronger than ever,’ Anirudh finished without looking at Sage Dweepa, his eyes fixed on the sea.

  Dweepa’s mouth fell open. ‘How did you—’

  Once again he was cut off by Anirudh. ‘I dreamt about it. I also dreamt that on this date I was to meet you on this very beach. So I came here. I wanted to know if what I was seeing were just figments of my imagination or the truth. As it turns out … it is the truth.’ Anirudh paused, turning to Dweepa. ‘I also dreamt that I was Lord Krishna … and that I was talking about the Kalki avatar with Sage Dweepa. Dweepa … He looked different, though.’

  ‘He was my ancestor,’ the sage answered.

  Again there was that awkward silence.

  Anirudh broke it. ‘Am I really the Kalki? Is this all a dream too? I … I still can’t absorb the fact that this is happening. That this is true …’

  Dweepa nodded. ‘I can understand your doubts, Anirudh.’

  He looked around. No one was in their vicinity.

  ‘Shall we sit?’

  ‘By all means, please,’ Anirudh replied, inviting Dweepa to sit under the tree beside him.

  Seated, Dweepa opened his bag and brought out a scroll from it. It was an ancient article—browning at the edges—but looked quite well-kept. The secret of its preservation was, once again, Lord Krishna himself, who had blessed this heartfelt gesture, just as he had done with the palm leaves.

  Dweepa held it in his hands as he spoke. ‘My ancestor, the one whom you saw talking to Lord Krishna, was a very good artist. He drew a portrait of Krishna during his leisure time. Since it was a likeness of our lord, it was passed down the generations and has been preserved carefully through the ages. It is valued as preciously as your instructions to my ancestor.’

  Dweepa handed the scroll to Anirudh. Feeling nervous, he looked at the sage and then at the scroll. Then he rolled it open and saw the image of Lord Krishna. The hair on the nape of his neck stood up.

  Anirudh exhaled, tapping his finger restlessly on the scroll. He was filled with total disbelief. The man in the portrait looked just a bit older than him, but the resemblance between them was striking. Anirudh felt like he was looking at a portrait of his future self.

  He stared at the scroll for what seemed like aeons and then, remembering where he was, returned it to Dweepa, who was keenly observing the boy’s face. Anirudh’s heartbeat, which had settled after they’d sat down, quickened once again.

  ‘I hope that you now believe the truth. You are indeed Kalki.’

  Anirudh nodded, and said quietly, ‘I shouldn’t have been surprised … I looked very similar to the Krishna in my dreams too. This image brought them back to mind. Yes, the portrait confirms that my dreams are true. That I was … Krishna! It’s so hard to … It’s too unreal to believe.’

  ‘Yes, the portrait is real, and it was made by my ancestor. This I swear on my lord. You were indeed him in your previous birth.’

  Anirudh turned to look at the hurling waves, as if collecting his thoughts. His friends were still busy playing in the water, oblivious and carefree. Then he asked, ‘What now, Sage?’

  ‘We have to go to Gujarat.’

  Anirudh faced his companion, his jaw dropping. ‘We?’

  ‘Yes, Anirudh. We. I have to take you to Dwarka, to start your education.’

  ‘Education? What … education?’

  ‘If your enemies were to attack you at this very moment, you wouldn’t stand a chance against them. There is a reason why they are stronger. You are not all-knowing, unlike your Krishna avatar. You have to learn things that your enemies are well-versed with. You have to learn a lot in order to face them, in order to defeat them! Some things I will teach you, some things others will and some you will learn on your own.’

  Anirudh looked blank as he tried to absorb what Dweepa had just said.

  ‘You will understand everything when the time comes, trust me. For now, understand this: We need to go to Gujarat. That’s where your education will start.’

  ‘I am ready,’ Anirudh replied, suddenly resolute. ‘But I don’t know whether my parents will agree.’

  ‘I wouldn’t worry about that. I will come to your house tomorrow and talk to them. They will allow it.’

  Anirudh stared at Sage Dweepa. ‘How can you be so sure?’

  ‘I am sure you have made some arrangements, as Lord Krishna, obviously.’

  Anirudh gaped at Dweepa, but recovered quickly and asked, ‘Where will you be till that time?’

  ‘I will be here somewhere … I will visit some temples.’

  ‘And food? Where will you sleep?’

  Dweepa patted Anirudh’s shoulder. ‘Don’t worry about me. I will eat in a restaurant and sleep in a lodge. It’s just a matter of one night. Tomorrow we shall leave for Gujarat.’

  Anirudh smiled. ‘You are very confident about us
leaving for Gujarat.’

  ‘I have faith in you. I’m sure things will work in our favour.’

  ‘Um … Sage Dweepa, do you have money for the hotel?’

  Dweepa laughed. ‘I have plenty of money, Anirudh. There’s no need to worry about me.’

  Anirudh studied Dweepa. He hadn’t expected a sage to have plenty of money.

  ‘Plenty of money? How?’

  Dweepa simply answered, ‘That’s a story for another day.’

  Anirudh smiled uncomfortably upon hearing his response. What are you hiding, Sage Dweepa? he wondered.

  ‘See you tomorrow, Anirudh.’ Dweepa got up to leave.

  ‘See you.’

  Before leaving, the sage took Anirudh’s address. Both smiled at each other in parting, and then Dweepa walked towards the entrance of Marina Beach. Anirudh sat chugging his warm, half-finished drink as he went over all that he had just learnt.

  A few feet away from the boy, the balloon seller collected some coins from an excited child in exchange for a big red balloon. He had since moved closer to the trees. Casting a long look at Anirudh sitting under the tree, he mumbled, ‘Kalki looks just like Krishna!’

  Once his sale was done and the child and his parents walked away, Kalarakshasa strolled down the beach with his cycle of balloons.

  SIXTEEN

  As Kalarakshasa entered his chamber, Kalaguru Bhairava, who was reading on the couch, shut the text and kept it aside.

  Kalarakshasa shrugged off his long-sleeved shirt, his swarthy body glistening in the dimly lit room. Then he wrapped his red cloak around his bulging biceps and muscular torso, and walked to the seat behind the desk. With one hand pulling the hood over his face, Kalarakshasa removed the sunglasses, the bandana and the fake beard with the other.

  Bhairava went over to the desk, irritated. ‘I know what you look like! Why are you hiding your face from me? Why are you taking so much trouble to remove your bandana and beard from under this hood? You can be free in my presence at least, correct?’

  Kalarakshasa laughed softly as he leaned back in his chair. ‘If I did as you say and someone entered this chamber unannounced, that person would see my face … And I don’t want that to happen.’

  Bhairava rolled his eyes and sat across from Kalarakshasa. ‘Did Dweepa meet Kalki?’

  ‘Yes, they met.’

  Bhairava’s eyes widened, but he narrowed them instinctively. ‘I guess you didn’t kill Kalki?’

  Kalarakshasa shook his head.

  ‘What? Why? You’ve waited all these millennia to kill him, haven’t you?’

  ‘He looks exactly like Krishna …’

  At this, Bhairava was shocked. He was at a loss for words.

  Then, in a voice with thinly veiled malice, Kalarakshasa continued. ‘The moment I saw that he resembled Krishna, my intentions of killing him were washed away.’

  Bhairava sighed. Stroking his chin, he asked the red-cloaked lord, ‘So, you do not plan on eliminating him?’

  Kalarakshasa was quiet for a few moments. Then he spoke coldly. ‘I do plan on eliminating him, but after agonizing him … He is just a young boy who has no idea about the world outside. I want him to see evil burn this world. I want to make him feel helpless, unable to save his precious little world. Krishna’s grand plan! I will rip it apart … Once Kalki sees the havoc I will rain down on this earth, then I will kill him!’

  ‘What next?’ Bhairava asked.

  ‘Dweepa is taking Kalki to Dwarka to educate him.’

  The old man’s brows shot up. ‘What education?’

  Kalarakshasa shrugged and said, ‘I will keep an eye on them in Gujarat …’ But he let his words hang in mid-air.

  A long silence followed.

  ‘Kalaguru?’

  ‘Yes, my lord?’

  Kalarakshasa started wringing his long fingers, looking straight into the old man’s eyes. ‘When I saw Kalki today, when I saw how closely he resembled Krishna, I wasn’t filled with pity … I was reminded of the pain Krishna put me through. If I had killed Kalki today at the beach, I would have given him an easy death. I don’t want that—I want him to suffer … suffer the same way that I have …’

  Kalaguru Bhairava considered the words. After a while, he got up and walked to the door of the chamber. Just as he was about to exit, he turned to the man in the red cloak and uttered what sounded like a warning. ‘Just make sure that you kill him before he kills you.’

  Kalarakshasa lay back in his chair and closed his eyes, recalling Kalki’s face, which then brought to his mind Krishna’s, wearing that crown adorned with a peacock feather.

  SEVENTEEN

  That afternoon, Dweepa set out in search of a modest lodge in the vicinity of the beach and booked a room for the night.

  The small room wasn’t grand, but comfortable enough for a simple man like Dweepa. It was furnished with the bare minimum: a bed adjacent to a window overlooking the street and a narrow closet next to it.

  Sitting on the bed, Dweepa spent a long while thinking about the day’s events, smiling at the memory of meeting his lord. After some time, he brought out a newspaper from his bag and started flipping through it. The sage was fluent in seven languages—English, Hindi, Marathi, Tamil, Malayalam, Gujarati and Sanskrit—and he enjoyed reading.

  The day passed quickly, with simple meals at a roadside restaurant, evening prayers at a nearby temple, a short nap and a few hours spent roaming the streets and observing the hustle and bustle of the city. Once the sun set, Dweepa settled down to recite his nightly prayers, beseeching his lord with all his heart that everything should turn out fine the next day. Everything depended on Anirudh’s parents allowing him to take the boy to Gujarat.

  Clearing his mind of all doubts, Dweepa lay back in his bed and, in minutes, was fast asleep.

  A few kilometres away, Anirudh and his parents sat down for dinner. Anirudh was unusually quiet today, his parents noticed, answering their questions only with nods. He was eager to retire to his room, and practically ran the moment his plate was clean.

  He sat on the bed, trying to read a novel, but his head was bursting with thoughts. He was worried sick about the next day. How on earth will I get my parents to allow me to go with Sage Dweepa? That too to a faraway place like Gujarat?

  He kept the book on his bedside table and, switching off the lamp, lay in bed. He looked at the sky through his bedroom window, lost in thought about what tomorrow held for him. His eyes shut eventually, and slowly sleep pulled him into its warm arms.

  A room apart, Anirudh’s parents were getting ready to settle down for the night. They were the early-to-bed, early-to-rise kind of people. Fiddling with the alarm clock apps on their phones, Mohini and Bhaskar exchanged idle banter. Soon they turned to either side and were in a deep sleep within moments. The house fell silent.

  In the pitch-dark room, a voice was softly calling out to Bhaskar and Mohini. A male voice, telling them to wake up. They both awoke with a start and sat up, each confused that the other was awake too. They looked around worriedly to see if anyone else was in the now silent room, but found no one.

  ‘What w-was th-that?’ Bhaskar whispered, his eyes wide with surprise.

  ‘I heard someone … calling my name,’ said Mohini.

  Bhaskar turned to her in shock. ‘I, too, heard someone! … He was calling out my name. A man … he had the sweetest voice.’

  Mohini’s jaw fell open. ‘I heard him too! How is it poss—what … what is happening?’

  No sooner had the words left her mouth, than the room glowed a brilliant blue. They both sat paralysed.

  An iridescent ball of blue light had appeared in front of their bed, which started expanding in size and then all of a sudden vanished. But where the ball of light had hung now stood a swarthy young man. The mild fragrance of sandalwood floated in the air.

  Anirudh’s parents were astonished to see a man appear out of thin air—let alone one who resembled their son so closely!

  The dark-compl
exioned youth had a spellbinding smile on his face. His twinkling black eyes complemented his smooth oval face, framed by wavy, long hair that dropped to his shoulders. The man wore a yellow silk dhoti, and a silk shawl was wrapped around his upper body. A wooden flute was tucked into his waistband, and on his head sat the only proof Anirudh’s parents needed of his identity. A glorious gold crown with a peacock feather in it!

  Immediately they fell at his feet, their eyes moist with joy.

  Krishna touched their heads and slowly pulled them up. They wiped away their tears and looked at the god adoringly, unable to contain their excitement.

  Krishna began softly, ‘Anirudh …’

  They looked at each other with narrowed eyes and then turned back to Krishna.

  Bhaskar spoke. ‘Anirudh, yes! … You look similar to Anirudh! How … my lord?’

  Krishna flashed his mischievous smile. ‘Anirudh is me.’

  The parents stared quizzically at Krishna.

  ‘It’s true. Anirudh looks like me because Anirudh is me. He should, of course, for he is the reincarnation of the divine being Vishnu.’ He laughed at the baffled expressions on the parents’ faces as he spoke. ‘He is the god’s tenth avatar. The last avatar. He is Kalki! And it has been kept a secret from the world, from you, for his own safety, as well as yours.’

  Bhaskar and Mohini were too bewildered to respond. They didn’t even know how to respond to this fantastical turn their life had taken.

  Krishna continued. ‘The reason why I am telling you this today is because it’s time for Anirudh to learn—to learn about the more significant things in the universe. He needs to gain knowledge and train to become Kalki in the truest sense. He needs to harness his potential.’

  As they listened, Anirudh’s parents’ stunned expressions changed to that of alarm, followed by reluctance and finally, sadness.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ said Krishna softly. ‘To train him, one of my trusted devotees, Sage Dweepa, will come to your home tomorrow. He will take Anirudh to Gujarat, his—my—birth place. He will be trained there, near Dwarka. You need to let Anirudh go …’