Kashi: Secret of the Black Temple (Harappa Series)

by Vineet Bajpai

  Or to be precise, Vidyut’s work was not yet done.

  A few sips of hot tea and a few biscuits seemed to have worked wonders for everyone after the long, high-octane and spiritually amplifying night behind them.

  ‘Balvanta, get all fighters of the matth to double the perimeter guard of the monastery. You inspect every gate, every parapet personally. Naina, take Damini with you and keeping her safe will be your duty. She should not be in Vidyut’s vicinity now, not for some time at least.’

  Balvanta bowed to the grand old man and left immediately to carry out the orders he had received. Sonu followed him, prepared to fight another battle for his devta.

  ‘What now, Baba? Do you think the Order will come after me?’

  Dwarka Shastri turned to Vidyut with amazement.

  ‘Do I think they will come after you, did you say, Vidyut? I am surprised you ask this question. Know this, my son...the secret of the Black Temple that the Order wants at any cost, now lays buried in your heart.

  So have no doubt in your mind.

  They are coming for you, Vidyut.’

  ‘Constantine knew about the Kalki avatar. A king as all-powerful as him had the world’s most accomplished mystics as his counsels. He firmly believed that just like the divine messengers, prophets and avatars of the past, the advent of Lord Kalki was a certainty. He also knew that the exact place and time of the holy manifestation was hidden in the Black Temple. The reason he commissioned the New World Order was because he thought he was going to make the world a better place, thus helping Kalki in bringing justice, happiness and everlasting peace to the human race. He grossly miscalculated. In trying to be an able servant to the Lord, he created the worst monster in the history of man.’

  Everyone around the great Dwarka Shastri was listening to him, as he unpeeled the final layer of intrigue over the Black Temple.

  ‘Like I have explained before, the secret brotherhood of the New World Order has a deep understanding of ethereal and spiritual matters. They have the most terrifying devil-worshippers at their service. They have their own mystics, exorcists and black magicians. Very early in their journey they were cautioned by these distorted occult practitioners about the coming of Kalki and the end of Kaliyuga. The supreme Overlords of the Order were told in no uncertain terms that the only force that could stop them was Kalki. They were also advised that Kalki would be born in the brilliant, holy constellation that has just passed, and that if He is allowed to cross the age of thirteen, the end of the Order is definite. So, while the secret society created wars, planted dictators, unleashed epidemics and controlled world economy over the centuries, their primary quest was always to find the secret of the Black Temple and know for sure where the avatar would be born. It was to obtain the secret scroll that they waged war with the Dev-Raakshasa matth, relentlessly, unstoppably.’

  Vidyut knew now that the war was far from over. In fact, the real war would now begin.

  ‘Baba, what is it that the Order wants now? Why will they come after Vidyut? Despite hundreds of years of bloodshed and violence, the Kalki avatar is already here. Won’t they just accept defeat?’ asked Naina.

  ‘You don’t seem to have fully understood the Order, Naina,’ replied the grandmaster. ‘They will never back down. They comprise the world’s most capable, most ambitious and by far the most dangerous men.

  They will try what King Herod tried when Christ was born. They will attempt what the demon emperor Kansa attempted when Krishna arrived on the planet.

  They will do everything in their power to kill Kalki...while he is still an infant.’

  Out of nowhere Naina’s mobile phone began vibrating.

  She took it out and looked bewildered.

  ‘This is odd. No one has this phone number except Mahant Bhavaanishankar, and he is not due to call,’ she said to the others as she took the call.

  Her face froze within moments. In less than thirty seconds she put the phone down. The caller had disconnected.

  She ground her teeth as she spoke.

  ‘It was Professor Tripathi, or the one-eyed goblin Brahmanand. He was laughing hysterically.’

  Everyone was stunned. Vidyut shut his eyes, not wanting to hear what Naina was about to say. Against everyone’s advice it was he who had decided to let Brahmanand go.

  Naina spoke with chilling calm.

  ‘Mahant Bhavaanishankar is dead.

  Someone called the White Mask has invited Vidyut to the ghaats this afternoon.’

  The Marshes Surrounding the Great Ark, Aryavarta, 1698 BCE

  THE ERA OF KALI

  They were beyond earshot, about three hundred paces from where Manu, Dhruv and Prachanda were keenly watching the proceedings, prayers in their hearts. Somdutt was face to face with the giant ghost of a man. The little daitya children stood around the pillar-like legs of Nara-Munda, unaware of what was going on.

  It seemed to be going well. Somdutt was speaking fearlessly, gesticulating his arms around, clearly trying to convey to the cannibal-king what further destruction and bloodshed awaited both the sides if the war for the Ark was not halted immediately. To everyone’s surprise and even some groans of relieved disbelief, both armies and their commanders saw the mighty Nara-Munda fold his hands and bow to the wise architect.

  Was the war finally over? With so much loss of life and thousands of wounded struggling to prevent their lesions from festering poisonously under the incessant rain, soldiers from both sides looked on hopefully.

  Everyone wanted peace.

  It was with a great sense of elation that Somdutt turned back to his own troops and comrades. Even from the distance Manu could see a smile on the wise architect’s face. Nara-Munda had accepted the truce proposal!

  Both sides of soldiers began rattling their weapons and armors in support of this decision. The forces of the Ark raised their swords and spears in salutation to Somdutt’s fearless effort as he began to walk back to his camp. The chief architect of Harappa, the most loyal friend of Vivasvan Pujari and a beloved father-figure for Manu, waved at his men with a sigh of relief.

  Everyone wanted peace.

  Except the emperor of the man-eaters.

  In one swooping motion, as swift as that of a cobra, the mammoth monster lunged forward. Even before the onlookers could bat an eyelid, Nara-Muda had lifted Somdutt from the back of his neck. Using just his left hand to raise the wise old man high up for everyone to see, the fiend growled in lunatic rage!

  ‘You want peace??’ he roared looking at the troops of the Ark, displaying the hanging man in cruel mockery.

  ‘You want peace??’ he growled again, this time turning to his own soldiers, his eyes bloodshot with insanity.

  He then turned slowly to look straight at the king of the Ark, Satyavrata Manu.

  By now the captured architect had drawn his dagger and was swinging it in futility, trying to reach the cannibal’s arm with his blade.

  His struggle did not even make Nara-Munda flinch. The beast was still looking at Manu, who was being held back by Dhruv and Prachanda from dashing into the field, to rescue the architect of the Ark.

  ‘You want peace, Satyavrata Manu?’ roared the towering monster for the third time.

  In the very next moment, Nara-Munda turned Somdutt like a rabbit, brought him close and bit into the old man’s neck with his giant jaws. In a nerve-wracking, tearing action, he ripped out Somdutt’s throat with his ghastly fangs.

  As he chomped and ate Somdutt’s bleeding entrails raw, he threw the thrashing body of the still-alive emissary of peace on the ground.

  The ten children that accompanied Nara-Munda were starving after days of rationed eating. Today they had been promised a treat by the demon. Like a cackle of young hyenas, they pounced on the bleeding architect all at once.

  In front of the thousands of troops, in front of the residents of the Ark, right in the face of Manu, Dhruv and Prachanda, the chief architect of Harappa was eaten alive.

  ‘Surround him! Surround t
he dastardly scoundrel! Dhruv...send in your best men!’ cried Satyavrata Manu, his voice hoarse with anguish and hate!

  He was still being held back by ten of his men, including Dhruv. They knew Manu was now ridden with indescribable sorrow and punishing regret. If they left him be, he would dash towards Nara-Munda – and perhaps towards certain defeat and death. It was his decision to let Somdutt take the message of peace to the vicious cannibal. Dhruv had counselled him against it, and yet he had gone ahead. His burning desire for harmony had made him risk it. It made him blind to reason.

  No one in the Ark forces had ever witnessed such a macabre sight of inhumanity. Nara-Munda had crossed all boundaries of sadism, stretched all limits of brutality. Manu was now clear that this fiend had to be wiped out from the face of the earth. No Matter what it took. No matter how many rules of honor had to be twisted and broken.

  Sobbing heavily and unable to breath, Manu turned to his closest friend and ally.

  ‘We have to kill him, Dhruv. Bring the ropes. Get the best fighters. You and I will lead them, and we will destroy this behemoth of evil – no matter what it takes! We stab him from the back, we encircle him, we tie his hands and we chop him to pieces!’

  With none other than the pious, the magnificent, the righteous Satyavrata Manu himself abandoning idealism in its purest form...the age of violence, deceit and strife was heralded.

  The era of Kali had begun.

  Kaliyuga had begun!

  Banaras, 2017

  SHAITAAN!

  The five-star hotel was in a frenzy. Uttar Pradesh police had cordoned off the premises of the luxury resort and every staffer was being questioned. Around noon that day a housekeeping lady had discovered a dead body in one of the rooms.

  It was a gruesome murder. The body had been perforated with a pointed object over thirty-five times, including the temples and eyes. The press had also reached the spot, given the profile of the murdered man. He was the notorious Mumbai don – Aslam Biker. The initial investigations had revealed that the pointed object used as a killing device was most likely a common screwdriver.

  In exchange for the wealth, arms and protection they provided him, Aslam Biker had been entrusted by the Order with a vital duty. He was to ensure that if the secret of the Black Temple moved from the shrine of Kedarnath to any other location, it had to be tracked.

  But the gangster had failed in his duty. The secret had been shifted successfully from Kedarnath to a new, unknown Black Temple, without the knowledge of the Order. Aslam Biker had let them down.

  And anyone failing the White Mask met with the same fatal fate.

  ‘You have got to be kidding me, Vidyut!’ exclaimed Damini.

  It was for the first time in Dwarka Shastri’s presence that Damini had lost her cool. Vidyut was adamant that he would go and meet this White Mask.

  ‘Baba, please knock some sense into this man’s head. He knows he is now the prime target for the murderous brotherhood. You told us how they will go to any extent to capture Vidyut and extract the coordinates of the Lord’s birthplace. Then how can he even think of stepping out of the matth?’

  Before Dwarka Shastri could intervene, the devta spoke.

  ‘Try to understand what I am doing, Damini. Whoever this man is, he is behind the killing of Mahant Bhavaanishankar. He is probably also the killer of Aslam Biker, as we read in the newspapers this morning. Brahmanand too is serving his will. Clearly, this White Mask is someone very influential in the secret brotherhood’s hierarchy. The Order will come after me one way or another anyway. At least by coming face to face with this man, I will know who the enemy is! Till how long can we fight an invisible foe? Till when can I hide from an adversary who we do not even know and cannot even see?’

  ‘But, Vidyut...’ protested Damini, pressing her throbbing forehead with her hand.

  ‘Let me go, love. This man has reached Banaras. He knows I am within the walls of the matth. If he can kill someone as accomplished as Mahant Bhavaanishankar as well as a big Mumbai don, the guards of the matth will not stop him.’

  Vidyut kissed Damini on the forehead.

  ‘I have to go, Damini. Nothing will happen to me.

  Bhagvaan Kalki has arrived now. He will protect us.’

  The grandmaster of the Dev-Raakshasa matth blessed Vidyut, as the devta bowed to touch the feet of his Baba.

  ‘Remember, Vidyut, this man is different from the others like Romi Pereira, the daakinis, the mercenaries or even Trijat Kapaalik and Brahmanand. I did not want to speak in front of Damini, but the White Mask, or the Maschera Bianca as he is called, is something disturbing.’

  Vidyut noticed that his Baba had used the term something and not someone to describe the Maschera Bianca.

  ‘Baba, Naina mentioned to me that Mahant Bhavaanishankar said something about Lucifer or the devil himself walking in Kashi. I also saw a terrifying statue of Satan at the yajna-shaala of the Masaan-raja. Is the White Mask an incarnate of Lucifer himself, Baba?’

  ‘No, Vidyut. He is not Lucifer. And we are not sure if Lucifer and Shaitaan (Satan) are the same force. The scriptures are not clear. Several of our clansmen believe the Mask is the devil or Shaitaan himself. Mahant Bhavaanishankar was one of those believers. But I am certain he is not.

  When, heaven forbid, Shaitaan arrives, the whole world will know, Vidyut. He carries the dark forces of the entire cosmos with him. And neither you nor even the mighty Sheshnaag will be able to stand in his way. We pray to the universe that it does not happen before Kalki is ready to take him on.’

  The devta remembered the gigantic bust of Lucifer he had seen amidst the dead bodies and ritual pits of the Mritak-naath, Trijat Kapaalik.

  ‘Then who is this White Mask, Baba?’

  Dwarka Shastri’s face showed a glimpse of grave worry for the first time.

  ‘The Maschera Bianca is Shaitaan’s messenger, Vidyut. For want of a better description, let me say he is...

  ...half-human, half-demon!’

  His white shirt of fine, expensive linen fluttered against his ribbed built.

  The Maschera looked nothing less than a Hollywood movie star.

  Vidyut stood at the steps of the holy Ganga, wearing his black t-shirt, which caressed his equally chiseled physique.

  The devta looked every bit the God that he was!

  The colors of the two men’s shirts were starkly in contrast with the cosmic powers they represented.

  ‘Hello, Vidyut,’ said the Maschera, suave as ever, a glowing smile adorning his face.

  The devta was not Aslam Biker. He did not ease his guard at the evidently shrewd presentation of the Mask.

  ‘What do I call you, my friend?’ asked Vidyut, as the two shook hands.

  ‘Well, I am most certain you already know what I am called, Vidyut,’ replied the Mask, taking off his sunglasses and looking at Vidyut with those legendary green eyes.

  The devta did not relent.

  ‘I don’t speak to people without knowing their names.’

  The White Mask laughed merrily. He folded his glasses and put them in his pocket. He pulled up his pink designer trousers as he sat down on the stairs of the ghaat. He gestured to Vidyut to join him, much like once Romi and the devta had shared the stony seat.

  ‘You know, Vidyut...in another time, you could have called me Winston. Or Joseph. Or even Adolf.

  But for now, it is Maschera for you...my friend.’

  The Marshes Surrounding the Great Ark, Aryavarta, 1698 BCE

  ANTIM YUDDHA – PART IV

  Manu’s eyes glistened like embers, fraught with tears and venom.

  Dhruv had never seen his friend in this barbaric form before. Satyavrata Manu had transformed into a killing monster, hacking down any daitya warrior who stood between him and Nara-Munda.

  Both the armies were once again attacking each other fiercely with their blades, spears, fists and teeth. With the last hope for peace lying in shreds with the body of the unfortunate architect, men from both sides w
ere now baying for each other’s blood. The rumble of the great deluge was growing louder with every passing minute. Wind speed was now almost a tornado, making it hard for the fighters to even maintain balance.

  It was clear now. It was a matter of a couple of hours at most. Those who would climb the Ark in time would live to see another day. Those who miss the boat will get washed away like insects under the great waves of pralay.

  As the priest-king of the Ark made his way towards the cannibal monster, Dhruv and his men closed in as well. They had Manu’s permission now. They were going to surround the emperor of the dark forests and make him pay for all his sins. Each of Dhruv’s riders carried a rope noose. They knew that as long as Nara-Munda’s hands and legs were free, it was impossible to vanquish the beast. He had the strength of ten men, and he had to be captured before being sent to his maker.

  Dhruv was the first one to ride like a whirlwind around the giant beast. Before Nara-Munda could raise his oaken staff to toss Dhruv off his horse like a toy, Dhruv swung the rope-noose by his side to gain momentum and flung it around the beast’s neck and shoulders.

  Even as Nara-Munda grappled with what was happening, five other nooses were thrown over him. The riders of Dhruv were now encircling the cannibal and tightening the grip of the ropes. Within moments the expert warriors sent a volley of vine-chords with metallic bearings tied at their ends flying at the man-eater’s ankles. In not more than a few seconds, they had trapped Nara-Munda in a web of ropes and chords, right from his shoulders to his feet.

  For a moment, the eyes of the Arkers twinkled. Nara-Munda seemed to lumber around under the screaming wind and roaring thunder, unable to move his limbs.

  But that twinkle came and left in the same moment.

  Nara-Munda was quiet for a few blinks of the eye because he was summoning all his bestial strength.

  To the dismay and shock of Dhruv’s riders, Nara-Munda broke his gigantic, muscular legs free from the vine-chords as if the bondages were made of cotton thread.