Kashi: Secret of the Black Temple (Harappa Series)

by Vineet Bajpai

  A moment later a peculiar, grinding noise could be heard from somewhere behind the enormous statue of Neelkantha Shiva. It was more of a faint rumble that only Vidyut and Dwarka Shastri could hear amidst the deafening noise of the chanting. The trishul being pulled out had triggered a series of hidden gears, levers and pulleys.

  To everyone’s awe, the Shiva statue moved. In a smooth circular movement, the massive stone sculpture turned around a full one hundred and eighty degrees, with the back of Shiva now facing the central sanctum. After a few moments, the rear of the statue of Shiva parted from the center, from its shoulders to the waist of the seated deity. Decoupling several plates of stone that ran down the body of Shiva like a spinal cord made of rock, a vertical cavity appeared within the hollow of the statue.

  And there it glowed in a brilliant blue, frightening verses of the Garuda Purana engraved all over its length, gleaming just like the ancient messenger of death that it was.

  The great sword.

  The Ratna-Maru!

  Vidyut’s face reflected the blue aura of the sword that he stood facing. The Ratna-Maru was encased vertically, along the entire height of Shiva’s torso. Its bejeweled handle was now within the devta’s reach. He felt an urge to draw out the weapon from its stone casing.

  ‘This is a celestial sword, Vidyut. It was blessed by divine galactic forces when it was being wielded by the great Vivasvan Pujari during his last battle with the asuras. Thereafter it was passed on to his son, the immortal priest-king, Satyavrata Manu. The sword was the great Ark’s most precious cargo when pralay struck and did not recede for nearly two years. For three and a half millennia thereafter, this cosmic weapon has been protected by our bloodline.

  It is an indomitable weapon, Vidyut. Anyone who wields it, will be unbeatable, invincible. However, there is a rider – the sword chooses its master and not the other way around.’

  The priests continued with their holy intonations. Damini, Naina, Balvanta, Purohit ji, Govardhan and Sonu now gathered around the devta.

  ‘And you think it will choose me, Baba?’ asked Vidyut, unsure of what he was expected to do.

  ‘Maybe it will, Vidyut. Maybe it will not. But that does not really matter. The great sword is not destined for you, my son...’ answered the matthadheesh.

  Vidyut was embarrassed for a second. For all the burden of being the last devta that had been laid upon him over the few trying weeks, this last statement from Dwarka Shastri was quite a dampener!

  Dwarka Shastri now turned to his great grandson, with an expression of disbelief.

  ‘You still haven’t understood the secret of the Black Temple, have you, Vidyut?’

  The devta gave a blank expression. The grand old man burst into a short laugh, once again displaying his mild exasperation at his beloved Vidyut’s ignorance.

  Dwarka Shastri asked simply.

  ‘You have read the scriptures, Vidyut.

  Don’t you know who is supposed to be the ultimate master of the Ratna-Maru?’

  The Marshes Surrounding the Great Ark, Aryavarta, 1698 BCE

  RIDERS OF THE FISH-TRIBE

  It was mayhem.

  The second day’s battle between the defenders of the Ark and the man-eating daityas was a bloodbath that shook even the heart of prithvi. Never had she witnessed her children spill each other’s blood with such pitiless insanity.

  The daityas pounced five to one, like a pack of hungry hounds. While one stabbed, the other two grabbed the arms and legs of the opponent. Even as the fourth man tried to claw out the eyes of the enemy, the fifth one attacked the body with his teeth, beginning to devour the foe.

  Even though the Harappan warriors and the asuras were a formidable force, the sheer number and unconventional battle style of the daityas was winning the ground for the cannibals. While the daityas perished in the hundreds, the defenders of the Ark were losing soldiers by the thousands.

  ‘There is no way we can go on like this, Manu!’ yelled Dhruv, as he sent an arrow tearing through the lungs of an attacking man-eater.

  ‘Let’s fight and see this day through, Dhruv...this is only the beginning!’ replied Manu, panting and surveying the violent chaos all around him. He could see his soldiers falling from their horses, only to be consumed alive by a dozen pouncing daityas in a jiffy.

  ‘If this goes on for a few more hours, there will be no beginning and no end, Manu!’ shouted Dhruv, trying to make Manu see the grave reality.

  The leader of the Ark relented. He knew Dhruv was right. But he also knew, it was too early to call in their elite troops.

  ‘Okay, Dhruv...do it!’

  The ace bowman nodded and pulled out an arrow with a rounded head. He rubbed it against the rough ground and the arrow lit up in a red flame. Dhruv shot it in the air, towards the Ark.

  It was a signal.

  Tara saw the red streak in the sky. She too was surprised at this early deployment, and instantly understood that they were losing the battle.

  She was stationed at the lowest deck. The tigress of the Ark turned to one of the commanders of the Damini Sena and shouted her orders.

  ‘Now!’

  Moments later, the daityas froze at what they saw and heard. Massive platforms of thick timber began to open up at the bottom of the Ark. Sections of the Ark’s bottommost hull were being lowered using powerful chains, to reveal massive hidden chambers. To the frightened trepidation of the cannibals, each chamber was filled with hundreds of cavalry of the Ark’s most elite troops.

  The mighty fish-folk!

  They rode like a tornado, destroying everything that stood in their way. The earth shook under their hooves as they galloped in their typical, synchronized, almost choreographed manner.

  The fish-folk were unstoppable. Their swords were made of alloys that no one had seen before. Their battle-shields glinted each time thunder struck, blinding the enemy. Within minutes it appeared as if the tide of the battle had suddenly turned. Daitya heads flew in the air after being decapitated by the precise slicing blows of the army of the fish tribe. The fish-folk then split ranks and charged into the cannibal military in five different directions, attacking the center as well as the flanks.

  This sudden change in the complexion of the war spurred on the Harappan soldiers as well as the asuras. The armies of the Ark attacked with renewed vigor. Even now the Ark forces were outnumbered, but it appeared like the advent of the fish-folk would soon alter the equation.

  ‘GRRRAAAAAAHHH...!’

  Suddenly, in the middle of the raging battle, something snarled as if ten lions roared together. From a distance what they saw, sent a chill down the spines of Manu, Dhruv, Somdutt and Prachanda.

  Nara-Munda roared like an otherworldly fiend, his head thrown back, his hands outstretched, his elbows bent, his massive biceps bursting and his fingers twisted into claws.

  ‘UURRRGGGGRRRAAAAAAAAAAA....AAAHHHH!’

  He roared again, this time even more monstrously, as his head moved to look around at the enemy.

  Thousands of hearts stopped and blood froze in veins. Amidst the soldiers from both sides, he stood out like a colossal titan, towering even above the riders. As his second growl tore through the battlefield, the fighting stopped for a few moments. Warriors from both sides remembered their Gods.

  Manu and Dhruv exchanged glances. Even though they had heard several ominous legends and folklore about the emperor of the dark forests, none of them had imagined him to be as unnaturally grisly as he now looked.

  ‘I had told you so, Satyavrata. This is not a man. This is pure evil incarnated in a body rejected even by hell! We must surround him. We must kill him!’

  ‘No, Dhruv! Whoever he is, whatever he is...he is the leader of our enemy. And he deserves to be fought with honor.’

  ‘Honor? Did you just say honor? For a man who fronts helpless, orphaned infants in the face of arrows? For a man who slaughters his allies in their sleep? You want to fight such a scoundrel within the boundaries of honor, Satyavrata M
anu??’ retorted Dhruv irritably, stunned at the stubborn idealism of his friend and king.

  Manu was quiet, as he observed his near-invincible foe from a distance.

  He drew his sword, and before charging towards where Nara-Munda stood like an oak, he turned to Dhruv.

  ‘Promise me, Dhruv...no matter what happens, you will not intervene in my duel with the king of the cannibals.’

  ‘But Manu...’ protested Dhruv.

  Manu reiterated his instructions.

  ‘Remember, Dhruv...no matter what.’

  Banaras, 2017

  ‘PADAARPANAM KURU, PRABHU!’

  Vidyut stood there bewildered, drawn by the power of the blue sword that glittered as if it had lightning embedded deep in its ominous blade.

  In the moments that passed, the devta strained his brain to see if he had heard of the Ratna-Maru anywhere.

  To no avail.

  ‘Sorry, Baba...I am unable to recall if I have read about this mighty weapon anywhere. Please do enlighten us. Who is this sword meant to reach? Why has this secret of the Black Temple been hidden for so many centuries?’

  Dwarka Shastri shook his head, still looking straight into his great grandson’s eyes, still not ready to accept that Vidyut had not deciphered the truth till now.

  ‘This sword is not the secret of the Black Temple, Vidyut.

  That is!’

  Everyone turned to see where the grandmaster’s finger was pointing.

  It was towards a significantly lesser impressive object that lay mounted on a nearly decomposed wooden stand at the bottom of the Shiva statue’s cavity, right below the gleaming Ratna-Maru.

  Vidyut and his fellowship observed the object carefully, not daring to touch it just yet.

  ‘Go on, my son. Only you should lift it, Vidyut. Only the last devta of planet earth is prophesied to unfurl mankind’s most precious secret.’

  Dwarka Shastri invited Vidyut to pick-up the strange object from its wooden stand.

  Something made the devta fold his hand in veneration to the object as he stepped forward and raised it in his hands. As soon as his fingers touched the crooked structure, a piercing scream tore through Vidyut’s eardrums. As if an ancient dragon had shrieked into his mind and soul. No one else heard a thing.

  Vidyut stretched his arms suddenly, to distance the object from himself.

  ‘What happened, Vidyut?’ enquired the matthadheesh.

  ‘I...I can’t say, Baba. It felt like a primordial sea-monster roared deep inside my heart...’

  They now studied the piece carefully. Each one of them was in a beautiful daze just looking at it. Something within the crooked article seemed to exalt their spirit, cleanse their souls.

  ‘It is a horn of a giant beast, it seems,’ said Damini, her voice breaking with unexplained devotion.

  ‘Yes...but it also looks like a twisted, mammoth sea-shell. It appears to be the horn of an aquatic monster!’ exclaimed Vidyut, not believing what he was saying himself.

  ‘You are right, Vidyut. This was a gift from Matsya to Satyavrata Manu. It was the siren or blow-horn that the ancient priest-king had used to summon the Lord for help – when the great Ark was all but devoured by pralay.’

  ‘Look inside the crooked sea-horn, beta,’ urged Dwarka Shastri.

  He then turned around and gestured to everyone else to step back and give space to the devta.

  Vidyut did not have to look hard. He glanced into the interior of the horn and immediately spotted a scroll – rolled and placed at the core. He pulled it out.

  The scroll was yellow-brown in color. It appeared to be older than anything that Vidyut had ever set eyes upon. It was made of a material that the devta had never felt. It was also the most powerful object Vidyut had ever beheld. It seemed to be speaking to the devta.

  ‘This is an ancient scroll that has been passed on from generation to generation for over 3,700 years, Vidyut. It was re-written in the Harappan script by our great ancestor, Satyavrata Manu, which he did upon the instructions of none other than Matsya Himself!’ pronounced the grandmaster of the Dev-Raakshasa matth.

  Vidyut was in a trance. He now felt very intensely that he was a part of the prehistoric legend. Holding the scroll in his hand, for the first time in his life, the devta felt exactly like what they had been saying he was.

  Half-human, half-God!

  ‘You must read the ancient scroll, Vidyut. It is time, my son...’

  ‘But, Baba...you said it is in Harappan calligraphy. Let alone me, no one in history has been able to decrypt this primeval script,’ said the devta, hesitantly.

  The deafening chanting of mantras and clashing of cymbals continued unabated. The priests and sadhus now appeared to be in a frenzy, rejoicing the holiest hour of the whole of Kaliyuga. Dwarka Shastri once again raised his shankha, and spoke in a loud, reverberating voice -

  ‘Open it, read it and uncover the secret for the glory and goodness of mankind!

  The scroll shall reveal itself to you, O devta! It is foretold!

  Read it, and welcome the new dawn!

  Read it, and put an end to the Curse of the Blood River!

  Read it, O mighty devta, and unveil the ancient secret of the Black Temple!’

  Dwarka Shastri now broke down himself, stretched out his arms as if imploring to a divine force, and screamed with unabashed devotion –

  ‘Padaarpanam kuru, Prabhu!’

  The entranced priests and sadhus of the Dev-Raakshasa matth repeated after him in loud unison –

  ‘Padaarpanam kuru, Prabhu!’

  ‘Present yourself, Oh Lord of Lords!’

  Vidyut was burning with such divine, transcendent vitality that he had never experienced before. He felt One with God.

  True to the primordial prophecy, in line with the holy hour of the Rohini Nakshtara, the last devta on planet earth...unfolded the ancient scroll.

  The Marshes Surrounding the Great Ark, Aryavarta, 1698 BCE

  GANDHAK!

  The Ark decks served as vast, makeshift hospices, as the sickbay of the great boat could not accommodate the uncountable wounded. Cries of the fallen, amputated and mutilated soldiers rendered standing anywhere nearby impossible. While after the surprise attack of the fish-folk the equation for the second day had changed, enough men had already been lost by then.

  Day-one belonged to the Arkers. Day-two was swept by the daityas.

  Everyone could tell that the battle would not last beyond the third day.

  The next time the adversaries came face to face, would be the decisive battle. This war was going to find its winner tomorrow. Moreover, having witnessed the battle prowess and lunatic cruelty of the daityas on the battlefield, Manu knew that if they fell the next day, the Damini Sena would not be able to defend the Ark against the mighty daityas for more than perhaps a couple of hours.

  Even the thought of the thousands of men, women and children of the Ark falling into the gruesome hands of Nara-Munda was making the priest-king bilious, more anxious than he had ever been. To top it all, two things were now against the forces of the Ark.

  The surprise factor of the fish-folk was gone. The daityas would be prepared for them the next day.

  And the soldiers of the Ark had beheld Nara-Munda in all his macabre glory. Consequently, their morale was in their boots.

  No one was saying anything to the leaders of the Ark.

  But the murmurs were clear.

  Nara-Munda was invincible.

  They stood half a mile away from each other.

  The growling, howling, flesh-hungry daityas on one side.

  The wounded, vastly outnumbered, gritty troops of the Ark on the other.

  This was the last day. Of the last war. Before the great deluge swallowed everything. Flood waters had now reached the marshes around the great boat. Both armies stood in knee-deep water. The indication was clear.

  Pralay was hours away.

  The roar of the catastrophic waves was now within earshot. Wind speed
had increased exponentially, as an ominous messenger of the hurtling water-mountains that had already decimated almost all of Aryavarta.

  Both armies were willing to fight to the death. Not because they wanted to defend a kingdom or enthrone a king. Not because they were patriotic or because they wanted to loot and plunder.

  The men of both sides had their children, their wives and their aging parents behind them. Defeat was not an option now. Because defeat would mean not just their own end, but the certain death of their loved ones.

  And that was the supreme, frantic motivation that drove both armies to the hilt.

  This was going to be an unprecedented bloodbath.

  Upon directions from Somdutt, one column of the fish-folk riders turned towards Nara-Munda.

  The Arkers had convened hours before this day’s confrontation with one singular objective – to stop Nara-Munda. In the order of the warfare they faced, one beast like Nara-Munda could change the course of the war. He could tear open defense columns singlehandedly, he could kill commanders of the great vessel at will, he sent shivers down the defenders’ spines and offered a giddy sense of confidence to his own cannibal fighters. His barbaric method of battle paralyzed the limbs and froze the souls of his foes.

  Manu, Tara, Dhruv, Somdutt and Prachanda knew this beyond doubt – if Nara-Munda lived through that day, the Ark would be lost forever.

  He was visible from miles away. Ripping open soldiers of the Ark, flinging them into the air, biting away heads, crushing men under his elephantine heels. The ground around him was nothing more than a sickening pit of dead human filth, reeking with the stench of fresh blood.

  The fish-folk column of riders galloped towards the emperor of the dark forests, with the singular mission of challenging him and finishing him. They had seldom been beaten in the past. But even the select riders of the fish-tribe had underestimated the brute strength and dexterity of the cannibal-chieftain.