She was chanting the mantras non-stop now, willing the Mists to lead her to the source of the verses.
Maya had understood what her father had been trying to tell her as he vanished into the Mists.
He was not the source of the verses. He had simply copied them into his diary. He had duplicated them, preserved them. But they had originated elsewhere.
She now knew where she had to go.
What she didn’t know was how to get there. But she left that to the Mists.
As she slowly gained control, the Mists gave up the struggle, withdrawing from her mind, realising the power that she had within.
Finally, they bowed to her will.
The fog around her began to swirl violently as if disturbed by a strong gust of wind. It began to thin.
Slowly, as if in a haze, a scene began to form before Maya’s eyes, materialising out of the white wall that she had confronted until now.
She had not moved a step but she had been transported somewhere else.
To a different place.
And, possibly, a different time.
The sun shone in the sky, beating down upon the carpet of grass under her feet.
In the distance, she could see figures—human forms—engaged in some kind of activity.
Had she found the source?
Was this her destination?
Chapter Ninety-eight
The Source of the Verses
The Mists of Brahma
The last vestiges of the fog disappeared and Maya could see clearly.
As she advanced towards the distant figures, Maya saw that they were clustered around some kind of a structure that rose out of the ground, towering over them.
The faint sounds of a low chanting came to her ears.
A thrill coursed through her. Had she really done it?
Were these the Devas?
And was this Deva-lok?
It couldn’t be, because Satyavachana had clearly told
her that humans were no longer welcome in the world of
the Devas.
Wherever this was, in whichever time, it was beautiful. Lush grasslands stretched around her as far as the eye could see. She was on a plateau and, in the distance, she could see two lakes, their surfaces shimmering in the noonday sun. Rocky knolls, some as high as 100 feet, dotted the landscape, rising out of the grassy carpet.
One such rocky mound lay directly in front of her. It was the focus of all the activity.
As she neared the cluster of people, the chanting grew louder. The people congregated at the hillock were building a wall around it. But that was not the amazing bit. It was the manner in which the wall was being built that was stupefying.
There were hundreds of enormous stone blocks lying around, some of them easily twenty or thirty feet in height and an equal length and breadth. As she walked towards them, one of the gigantic blocks of stone rose into the air, seemingly of its own accord, and landed on the topmost layer of the stone wall that was being built, nestling snugly into place, jammed tight against the blocks adjoining it.
What was happening?
Maya looked on as another block repeated the process, accompanied by chanting.
A thought occurred to her. Were these people chanting mantras? And were they using the power of mantras to lift the blocks and get them into position?
But the mantras were being uttered in a strange tongue that she did not recognise.
Could they be chanting mantras in Brahmabhasha?
Maya had focused strongly on the source of the verses, the creators of the language in which the verses were inscribed.
And the original creators were the Devas.
Maya was now close enough to be able to observe the figures. She barely glanced at the wall, though the brief glance she gave it rang a bell somewhere in her mind—why did look so familiar?
But she quickly pushed the thought away. She was not here to wonder about a wall. She needed to find a way to understand Brahmabhasha; to translate the verses in her father’s diary.
And she knew that she had a limited period of time in which to accomplish this. It would not be long before the Mists crept back. She didn’t know if she was strong enough to be able to return here, to this place, to these people, a second time. The Mists had already taken a toll on her and exhaustion was beginning to overcome her. She longed to return to her own world.
Maya focussed on the scene ahead. She observed that, while the group of people building the wall looked human, they were in fact quite different.
For one thing, they were significantly taller—each one was at least seven to eight feet in height. And their faces shone with a strange radiance; it was as if their skin glowed.
She remembered then that the word ‘deva’ also meant ‘shining one’.
Her heart skipped a beat. So these were the Devas.
Maya was now nearly upon them.
They had been so intent on the construction activity that they had failed to notice her. Now, however, her presence became obvious.
The chanting immediately ceased and a silence fell over the plateau. One of the Devas turned and walked towards her with measured steps.
Maya’s throat was dry and her palms clammy.
She was going to meet a Deva! What was she going to say? How did one greet a Deva?
The tall, radiant being came to a halt before her. He was so close that Maya could have reached out and touched him.
He smiled and spoke softly to Maya in a strange tongue that sounded soft and musical.
Maya bowed. It was all she could think of doing. Then, straightening, she shook her head to indicate that she could not understand.
The Deva smiled at her again and raised his hands to touch her forehead, as if in benediction.
Maya felt a strange surge of energy course through her body as his hands touched her forehead. She swayed slightly, feeling a bit dizzy.
Then, the nauseous feeling cleared, and she could focus once more. The Deva was speaking to her.
‘Welcome, child,’ he was saying. ‘We have been expecting you.’
Maya recoiled in shock and took two steps back. The Deva was still speaking in the same tongue he had used earlier, with its musical tones and soft inflections, but now she could understand what he was saying! Her mind unconsciously warmed to the sound of the language, as if it were welcoming a new friend.
She shook her head to clear it, unable to understand what was happening. Had the Mists finally got to her?
Chapter Ninety-nine
Maya Asks for Help
The Mists of Brahma
The Deva smiled warmly. ‘Do not worry, child. I am Indra. What you are hearing is the language of the Devas. We do not teach it to your people, but you are different. You have a need, which is why you are here. And we will help you.’
‘How … how did you know that I would come here?’ Maya stammered, unable to believe what was happening. She was amazed to find herself responding in the same language. ‘How am I able to comprehend what you are saying? And how am I able to speak your language?’
Indra smiled. ‘So many questions, and so little time to answer them all. I fear your time here is not long and you will need to leave soon.’
Indra held out his hand and Maya hesitatingly accepted it. He smiled once again and led her towards the other Devas, who set up a chant as she approached.
‘Blessings upon you, child from Kaliyuga!’ they intoned together.
Indra let go of her hand and joined them, facing her.
How did they know she was from Kaliyuga?
Maya gazed curiously at them, trying to identify them by their appearance. She would have loved to know who among them was Agni, Surya and Varuna. But they made no attempt to introduce themselves and she did not dare ask.
She had a more important question.
‘Indradeva,’ she addressed Indra, ‘I need the help of the Devas to be able to translate Brahmabhasha. I need to be able to read some verses written
in your language. Please help me. Bhu-lok is in great danger.’
‘We know,’ Indra replied calmly. ‘But we cannot help you with your request.’
Maya despaired. ‘But why? You have enabled me to understand you, to speak Brahmabhasha. Why can you not teach me to read it?’
‘There is not enough time for that, child,’ Indra replied. ‘You must seek out the energy of the Saptarishis. It lies upon Bhu-lok. Only then will you be able to read Brahmabhasha.’
Maya was nonplussed. ‘Where do I find the energy of the Saptarishis, O Deva? How do I locate it?’
Indra shook his head. ‘I’m sorry, my child. That is all I can tell you. Even the Saptarishis cannot give you the answer. If you truly are who you are, you must find it yourself.’
Maya didn’t understand a word of what Indra was saying. Her heart sank, but she refused to give up. ‘You said you were expecting me, Indradeva. You have advised me to find the energy of the Saptarishis. If you know all this, then surely you know how I can find what I need?’
‘My child,’ Indra said gently but firmly, ‘we cannot see the future. We expected you because we know the prophecy. It told us that you would come back in time, all these thousands of years, to us, seeking our help. It told us that the energy of the Saptarishis is what you truly seek. But the answer to your problem lies in the future. That is why even the Saptarishis cannot help you. The location that you need to seek out will be determined in the future, when Kaliyuga begins. That is all we know. And as I said, if you truly are who you are, you will find your way.’
‘Who am I?’ Maya demanded, confused now, desperate for some answers before she was forced to leave. ‘How do I know that I can find what I need by myself?’
‘You ask for answers that I cannot give you,’ Indra said with a sigh. ‘You have reached us, travelling thousands of years back in time. That is not something an ordinary human being can do. But how can I tell you how to find out if you are the one who can find the solution to your own problem? That is something you need to discover for yourself.’
Maya stood there for a moment, unsure. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the fog beginning to return, the advancing tendrils dragging the ponderous weight of the Mists behind them. They would be upon them in a matter of moments.
‘It is time,’ Indra said. ‘You must leave now. It is dangerous for you to stay here any longer. Go, my child. Our blessings go with you. Look deep within yourself for the answer and you will find it!’
As Maya looked at him, she realised to her horror that Indra and the other Devas were slowly dissolving, fading away into nothingness. As she looked on, the Mists came up again and the lakes in the distance, the lush grasslands, all disappeared behind a white curtain.
Soon, all that she could see was a thick white wall of swirling fog, just as it was when she had first entered the Mists.
Recalling her experience after her encounter with her father’s spirit, Maya immediately reached out to control her thoughts.
It was difficult. Dozens of questions swirled inside her head, just as the Mists swirled around outside.
What had just happened? What was she going to do? Had she come all this way only to fail in her mission?
Maya dispelled these thoughts with a conscious effort, and focused instead on the glacier from which she had emerged into the Mists.
She was growing weary of grappling with the power of the Mists, but she managed to focus by reciting the mantras that kept them from gaining control of her thoughts, her mind.
The Mists began fading again and she found herself standing on ice.
The glacier.
‘Sampraliyate hima!’ Maya intoned and once again felt herself sink into the ice, absorbed by it, dissolving in it. Once she had melted completely into it, she turned her thoughts to where she had left Satyavachana, gliding swiftly downstream through the ice until she came to a stop.
The mantra to emerge from the ice unfolded in her mind and she slowly rose, gaining her physical form, shivering in the cold, bereft of the protection Satyavachana had offered her when they had first arrived at this very spot.
The Maharishi was waiting. He hurriedly advanced towards her as she emerged. Maya stumbled and almost fell, suddenly feeling extremely weak, her strength drained from her as if by some enormous exertion.
Satyavachana quickly muttered some mantras to protect her from the bitter cold. Night had fallen and the stars were out, twinkling in a clear sky overhead. He led her to a large rock and sat her down beside him, still supporting her with one arm.
Presently, the feeling of weakness passed and Maya felt better. She sat up straight, rubbing her temples and forehead. It felt as if there was something inside her head that she couldn’t purge.
Satyavachana sat patiently, waiting for her to recover. He knew that her journey through the Mists had been arduous, but he was prepared to wait until she was ready to talk about it.
Finally, Maya spoke. ‘I have had the most bizarre experience,’ she began, her voice tremulous.
But Satyavachana hushed her immediately. ‘I can sense your fatigue and confusion,’ he said gently. ‘You need to recover before we discuss what transpired in the Mists.’
He helped her get to her feet. ‘Come,’ he said, ‘we must get you back to the Gurukul. You need rest and a good night’s sleep before we speak of this again. We will not practice atma travel tonight. You can tell me everything tomorrow.’
As Maya and the Maharishi began their journey back to the Gurukul, Maya wondered how she was going to break the news to him that she had come back empty-handed.
How was Satyavachana going to react to her failure to accomplish her mission?
Chapter One Hundred
Maya Tells Satyavachana
The Forest
Unknown Location
The next day dawned pleasant and clear. Fluffy white clouds scurried across a clear azure sky, powered by a western breeze, as Maya arrived at the forest where Satyavachana was waiting for her.
‘Ah, my child!’ he beamed as Maya appeared. ‘How did you sleep last night? Did you rest well?’
Maya nodded, smiling at his genuine warmth and concern. ‘Yes, Mahamati,’ she replied.
‘Good. I didn’t want to tire you out yesterday, but perhaps now you can tell me what happened in the Mists of Brahma!’ Satyavachana gripped his brahmadanda with both hands and assumed an air of anticipation.
Maya started her story hesitantly, skipping the part where she met her father. Her father’s instructions not to disclose their meeting or their conversation to anyone were fresh in her mind, and she was not going to disobey.
But she left out no details of her encounter with the Devas. When she finished, there was a look of disappointment on Satyavachana’s face.
‘So,’ he remarked, ‘you did not get the key to deciphering the verses.’
‘No, Mahamati.’
‘I suppose that means I was wrong,’ the Maharishi muttered, sounding a bit despondent.
‘But I did learn to speak and understand Brahmabhasha,’ Maya said, by way of consolation.
‘Indeed. But that doesn’t help us at all, does it?’
‘No, Mahamati.’
‘I wonder what Indra meant by his last words to you,’ Satyavachana said thoughtfully. “ ‘Look deep within yourself for the answer and you will find it.” ’
‘I have no idea,’ Maya replied. ‘He told me I had to find the energy of the Saptarishis. What does that mean, Mahamati?’
‘I have to admit, I am quite clueless,’ Satyavachana admitted, as he stroked his beard. ‘I have never heard of the energy of the Saptarishis, let alone know what it means. It just show how little we know.’ His eyes flashed. ‘And the Sangha believes that with just one part of the prophecy, they know everything that is required to counter Shukra and defeat him. Ridiculous!’
‘Indra did mention a prophecy,’ Maya reminded Satyavachana. ‘Do you think he meant the part of the prophecy that is hidden in Dev
a-lok?’
‘Hmmm. Let’s see,’ Satyavachana mused. ‘You went quite a long way back in time. Indra mentioned thousands of years. And he did seem to indicate that Kaliyuga was yet to start. If that is the case, he could not possibly be referring to the part of the prophecy which we believe is hidden in Deva-lok. The prophecy we seek was, according to legend, created by the Saptarishis at the start of Kaliyuga and hidden by them in Deva-lok. The Indra you met lived in a time far before Kaliyuga started, so he was referring to a different prophecy.’ He paused, lost in thought.
‘You mean there was a different Indra later?’ Maya was confused.
‘It is possible,’ Satyavachana replied, a faraway look in his eyes. ‘Even the Devas could not escape death. What is interesting is that there seemed to be a prophecy even back then, in the yuga you visited. That too, a prophecy about Kaliyuga. I wonder what that prophecy said.’
‘But that doesn’t help us at all.’ Maya was not interested in the older prophecy. ‘How am I to find the energy of the Saptarishis?’
‘It doesn’t make sense,’ Satyavachana agreed. ‘“If you truly are who you are …”—isn’t that what Indra told you?’
Maya nodded.
‘What did he mean by that?’ Satyavachana muttered, rubbing his chin. ‘I can only think of one interpretation,’ he said finally. ‘If you could make it back in time through the Mists to meet the Devas, you can find the energy of the Saptarishis. Whatever that is. And you need to find the answer deep within yourself.’
The Assembly Hall
The Gurukul
Panna National Park
‘So you were wrong, Maharishi,’ Jignesh addressed Satyavachana.
The group—comprising Jignesh, Kanakpratap, Parth, Usha and Satyavachana—had assembled in the hall on Satyavachana’s request. He had just finished briefing them on Maya’s journey into the Mists of Brahma.
Everyone was impressed that Maya had not only survived the Mists, but had also travelled back in time and met the Devas.
But the fact that the trip, however impressive, had not led to any tangible results could not be ignored. It was a definite setback.
The Mists of Brahma Page 25
