Satyayoddha Kalki- Eye of Brahma

by Kevin Missal

  “Stop,” he commanded the charioteer.

  The man looked up at him, and reined the horses without a question.

  “My lord,” a meek voice from the back appeared. It wasn’t any of his twin guards, but another guard who always accompanied him—Pradm, the commander of the Rakshas. “What happened?”

  Pradm had a huge gash that rounded around his torso. He had purple eyes and his hands were folded in supplication. Currently, Pradm was thinking of Raktapa. For quite some time he had been lying to him about how everything was fine, while ensuring that Raktapa ruled, dined and revelled in Agnigarh with his iron fist over Lord Samrat, the former king of Agnigarh.

  Lord Kali scanned around, glancing over the poor side of the city. The royal end, the south, was bedecked with beautiful buildings, lavish alleys, and shops by merchants with high-rise bazaars and exquisite fruits. But here, there was an atmosphere of sickness and filth. Many wore shawls that were scorched under the sun, some coughed, and everyone entered their small complexes, broken and shattered beyond repair.

  Lord Kali had not done anything for them. Yet.

  He recalled how when he was young, Durukti had had a conversation with him.

  “So you plan to be a king?”

  “Well, something like that.” He grinned. They had been sitting inside a stable while it was raining. At that moment, many of the beggars rushed inside their shed. They were amongst the many that had fully drenched in rainwater.

  “What do you plan to change if you become the king?” squeaked a young Durukti, the idea clearly amusing her.

  At that time, Kali had had no clear intention to be the king. He never thought he would be one. He began to say, “I would make palaces and I would make a statue of mine whom people can worship. I’ll have the best of armies, the best of the navy fleets . . .”

  “And do they have a place in your vision?” Durukti signalled at a family who had found cover in the shed, covered in one blanket as they hugged and shivered. “O King, what would you do for these people?”

  Kali couldn’t believe a kid like Durukti had thought of something so important while he had overlooked it in a flash of pride. He felt guilty. “Yes. I’ll, uh . . .”

  “Wasn’t the king supposed to be kind, give the poor shelter, help them when they are in need, protect them from an adversary? Or are those oaths plain promises?”

  Kali believed it was all the books she had got from the street vendors that had got her thinking. “A kingdom is as great as its people. Without the people, there is no kingdom,” he said to himself, believing no statue should exist if its real-life counterpart was not respected.

  “Yes, you are right,” he grasped her hair, kissing the top of her head. “I will make sure they don’t have to find a shelter like that. I’ll build a great city for everyone to live lavishly on their own terms.”

  “Now that’s a kingdom I would love to stay in,” Durukti said, grinning childishly.

  There was magic in their struggle. All the time that he had lived outside in the wild, protecting himself and his sister, there was magic, for without struggle there is no success. He cherished his position more than ever as he stood on the platform, away from his shelter, followed by his guards. He walked to the corner, as people began to surround him, crowding him, as if he was the most popular theatre actor in the kingdom.

  The Rakshas guards led by Pradm and the Manav guards led by Koko and Vikoko immediately began to create barriers to prevent the people from coming too close to Lord Kali.

  Lord Kali sat in the corner; there was a slight pedestal where he could rest his back on. He looked at the clear sky.

  It was the right time.

  “I have come here . . .” he found his words and repeated, “I have come here to help you all. Please, one by one, come to me. Tell me what you want.”

  And so it began, when each villager scampered to the front, begging for his audience. Not for gold, but for food. Lord Kali had no food on him, but he had coins he had earned from the arena bets. He handed half of the sum to the women with the two embroidered linen pouches. Upon sighting the amount, they fainted. Lord Kali smiled with a childish glee. One couldn’t deny the pleasing effect of doing nice things. It made you feel better. Much better than being violent. It gave you a slight and quick boost inside your chest. Although being violent had its own perks.

  “My lord,” an old man appeared, “I don’t have a place to live in. I have sought refuge in the streets, even slept on them. I don’t want to trouble you, but then, what do I do?”

  Lord Kali arched his brows, trying to find an immediate solution to the old man’s plight. Without a moment’s hesitation, he took off his crown and handed it to him. “Barter this at the bazaar and you’ll receive enough amount to buy yourself a fort,” he said, laughing as the old man remained stunned.

  “No, my lord. I cannot accept that.”

  Lord Kali stopped smiling. Glaring at the man, he said, “Would you say no to your king?”

  The old man took it, overwhelmed with gratitude. He put it up for everyone to see, as his cracking voice proclaimed, “The great Kali! Our KING!”

  Other voices joined with the old man’s, trembling in awe of their king.

  Lord Kali knew the ramifications of his actions. He knew that inculcating fear in others could make you powerful. But occasionally, love could make people respect you.

  “My lord,” a woman’s voice brought him back from his reverie.

  A frail woman appeared with a girl on her side, her face covered and her head down in a respectful gesture. “She has been harassed and humiliated by a moneylender. We had taken a loan from him to buy some food. But we couldn’t pay him back. We tried, my lord. But he wouldn’t go empty-handed. He demanded I offer my daughter to him. And he forced himself on her.”

  She broke down, crying. In a flash, Lord Kali’s expression changed.

  Vile memories stirred inside him—which were often dismissed, forgotten. The very memories instilled a vengeful aura in him.

  Lord Kali turned to Koko and Pradm, while Vikoko remained on the other side. “I thought there were no moneylenders operating in this area.”

  “Some rich landlords act like that, my lord, in the outskirts of the city,” Pradm responded. Koko nodded in agreement.

  Lord Kali said to Pradm, “Send five of your men with this woman.” He looked intently at the lady and said, “I want you to point out the moneylender. Consider the loan cleared. We will ensure he pays for his crimes.” He watched the girl on the woman’s side. “Child, do not worry. You stay strong,” he pulled out his rings studded with rubies, “and take this as a token of my apology for overlooking such matters. The last thing I want is a woman to be ill-treated.”

  He paused. He knew it was hypocritical of him to show compassion now. He had physically hurt Durukti once. The incident had slighted his pride.

  But when angered, does a man still retain his morality?

  The girl took it with eager hands and Lord Kali noticed how young she was. Her mother bowed again in respect, but the girl ran towards Lord Kali and embraced him. Vikoko was alarmed but Lord Kali signalled her to not do anything while the girl embraced him tearfully and then left without a word, with her mother.

  After five hours when the sunlight had dimmed, Lord Kali realized there were so many more people in wait. He was exhausted. Facing the people, he asked, “I see you have suffered a lot. Why didn’t you come see me before? Why wait till now?”

  One of them answered, “My lord, we didn’t know you would answer us. We didn’t expect a king would come to our rescue.”

  Kali bit his lip in annoyance.

  “Where would you go then?” Kali asked.

  “To Lord Vishnu’s statue; we prayed to him for all our miseries. King Vedanta had ordered us to not come to his court. Instead, he had asked us to go to the temple where our wishes would come true.”

  Kali clenched his hand into a fist. “And? Did they ever?”

  M
any shook their heads.

  “It’s false!” someone said.

  “Stop talking about Lord Vishnu like that,” someone else cried out. The voice died out in a mumble.

  “A real god listens and helps,” Lord Kali began, snapping back at them. “You, my fellow countrymen, have been ridiculed by false gods into believing they will help us when they are made of nothing but stones and granite.” He looked up at the malicious statue of Lord Vishnu which stood high over the ground, far off, but still visible. It was the most prominent landmark of the entire city.

  “Promise me, no, promise yourself, that you won’t resort to god’s grace anymore. “You don’t have to worship them anymore. Come to me.” He gazed at the statue in disgust.

  “This idea of your former godly king has to be demolished for good.”

  The sparrows chirped and the mist was coated around the high dusk mountains. Kalki realized he had to do something fast, as Darooda approached with big, watery eyes, watching him in fascination.

  “You eat them?” asked Kalki, glancing at the three strangers Darooda had managed to kidnap for food.

  “Me?” Darooda’s hoarse voice quipped with surprise. “Me, no. They will.”

  They? Who?

  Kalki couldn’t understand what Darooda was saying. Coupled with this frustration was the fact that he couldn’t decipher what Shuko’s constant battering of “Pisach! Pisach!” meant. Sometimes the bird could really get on Kalki’s nerves with its incessant squawking.

  He had to think fast about how to help the hostages. They looked poorly rested. One of them had matted hair, another had an inked face, and third one was bald. To Kalki’s surprise, he had never seen anyone like her. Shaven heads often reminded him of Kali.

  The thought of him makes me angry.

  That wretched evil man had slaughtered his friend Bala, who Kalki was supposed to protect, and Ratri had got caught in the ensuing mess. She didn’t deserve it.

  None of them did.

  And yet here he was on his way to meet a man who he was supposed to blindly trust, but was now confined in a cave with a raving rarity of a Tribal who hooted and jumped as Kalki stood dumbfounded.

  “You need to leave them,” Padma whispered. Nevertheless, he came forward, but his arm was firmly grabbed by her.

  He shot her a look of contempt.

  “Let’s leave,” she whispered.

  Kalki couldn’t act like that. He wouldn’t leave without saving the strangers. He jerked his arm out from her grasp and advanced towards Darooda with an intimidating snarl. Darooda howled, forcing Kalki to recoil in surprise, while he reached out and grabbed a spear from the back with a swift movement.

  “You, here,” he signalled Kalki to sit down.

  Kalki had had enough of this. “I don’t want to hurt you, Darooda,” he muttered.

  “No, hurt, me hurt you.” He arched his brows.

  Ugh. I need to show him then.

  Kalki, in an offensive stride, lunged forward. He heard the yelps of the Tribal who instantly regained his composure, as if he had anticipated it, while Padma gasped in surprise. Kalki grabbed the spear and as he touched it, he realized it was fiery hot, like lava. He instantly let go of the blade. He wanted to break it. But that strategy was out of the window. He couldn’t shatter something so hot. Kalki was then jabbed on his shoulder with the spear, and was violently pinned against the wall.

  Darooda growled at Kalki, his incisors popping out of his drooling mouth. At that very instant, Padma leapt from her position, pulled out her two daggers in the process as she clambered on Darooda’s back. Darooda struggled as he tried to shirk her off. Kalki pushed himself back up from the ground, using his head to pummel right at the centre of Darooda’s chest. He staggered back in pain, as he realized Darooda’s skin was hard. He tried to hit Darooda in the same spot, and collapsed on the ground, as blurriness crowded his eyes. How could this vile creature be so tough-skinned?

  Kalki coughed in pain, and shifted around to see a little of what Padma was trying to do. She had locked her arms around Darooda’s neck and was trying her best to pierce his skin with her blades, but whenever she hit, Darooda deflected it with his huge claw-like hand, until he finally used his force and slammed her flat on to the wall. Padma coughed up blood as she struggled to retain her consciousness. Darooda pummelled her against the sharp rocks and Padma fell on the ground, senseless.

  Now, Darooda came forward with the spear in his hand, ready to stab her when Kalki saw the shadow of a figure appear at the cave entrance.

  “Simha!” he yelled.

  It was Kripa armed with a blade with a serrated edge.

  Darooda turned in surprise. Without further thought, he went for Kripa. Both were locked in fierce combat. A dazed Kalki, with his battered feet and arms, struggled to get up. He shook his head violently as he crawled towards Padma. No matter how much he hated her, she was his comrade that he had to protect. Kalki came to her and flicked her face, trying to wake her up while Kripa was immersed in a battle with Darooda. Rather than going for the kill, Kripa was intent on dodging Darooda’s attacks, as he rolled over with superior acrobatic finesse. For a man as old as he was, Kripa had surprised Kalki with his agility and combat skills, which could have only been gained through experience.

  Padma opened her eyes, only to see Kalki looking down at her with concern. He didn’t say anything. Padma blinked for a moment, staring at him. “What just happened?”

  Clenching his teeth, Kalki ignored her. He limped towards the strangers and opened the straps gagging their mouths. As he did, he saw Kripa being tossed on the ground, as he skid on the mud with a sharp snap, like the breaking of a twig.

  “Ugh, this doesn’t feel nice, mate.” Kripa sighed in pain as he struggled to get back up.

  Growling, Darooda Simha paced himself and sprinted towards Kripa with full force, and landed a blow on Kripa’s torso. Kripa’s howl resounded in the cave. Darooda hit him continuously with pure rage. Kalki tried to stop the berserker by grabbing him by the torso and throwing him to the other end.

  This was it. He was tired, having sustained enough injuries from the brawl. Kalki raced forward while Darooda rampaged ahead. Both began to deliver blows unto each other, fists of fury smashing into each other, as they tried to break each other’s bones, whilst barely maintaining their balance. Kalki had just about managed to regain his composure as he came face-to-face with the beast, gazing deep into the furious eyes of a Simha.

  “Come on!” yelled Kalki.

  He wished he hadn’t taunted him.

  Darooda, with a surprising dexterity, twisted his legs up in the air, and landed consecutive kicks on Kalki. He then tilted to the side and with a quick jolt, landed a devastating punch on his face.

  And at that moment, darkness and blood overwhelmed Kalki’s eyes.

  Kalki opened his eyes, finally realizing he was back where he had been a while ago. But time had passed and he had his arms tied up from behind by multiple ropes, which were directly connected to his legs. He knew that if he moved, his legs would be strained. Escape was not an option anymore. Darooda was smart. He could gauge his intelligence from the fist fight they had had. Darooda had understood that Kalki had the strength to break the rope, which was why he had furiously knotted it and bound it to his legs. On his side was Kripa with a bruised cheek, and a smug and sullen Padma.

  Kalki swivelled his head to see the strangers, who were still captives, blankly staring at him. Their faces were blank, almost as if they were saying, Yeah, that didn’t work out well for you, did it?

  Darooda was nowhere to be seen. The stench of something rotten had started to engulf their senses. A slight breeze entered the small opening in the cave as it coalesced and fluttered calmly over Kalki’s face. It was much-needed fresh air.

  “I told you we should have left the moment we saw them.” Padma gritted her teeth.

  “This didn’t go according to the plan,” Kalki spat in frustration. “Where is he?”

&nb
sp; “Gone out to fetch more of us, I believe?” Kripa’s nonchalance was irritating Kalki.

  “What about the horses? Did he kill them?”

  Kripa laughed. “Kill them? Simhas don’t kill animals. They worship them.”

  “Why does he have a lion skin on his head then?”

  Kripa went into a confused daze. “Um, I don’t think I am wrong here. But I am pretty sure he is letting them be.”

  “How will we leave for Mahendragiri now?”

  “Mate, I’m the last person to whom you should ask this question. Am I not in the same situation? Have some pity on me.” Kripa turned to face the convicts. “Hello there! Might we ask how you all got here?”

  The strangers didn’t even flinch.

  “That helps a lot, Kripa. Demanding answers from people who can’t speak.”

  “At least our mouths are open. Just don’t bore me to death with your chit-chat.” Kripa grinned.

  “Yeah, yeah,” Kalki dully nodded. Being huddled together as captives was one thing, but being held captive with Kripa was a different matter altogether, especially when a certain someone spoke a lot of horseshit.

  “How is he so strong?” Padma asked Kripa.

  Kripa looked at her as if it was stupid to even ask the question. “He’s a Simha. You have no idea how strong these Tribals are. Their physiology is superior in every way.”

  “That doesn’t answer my question.” Padma shook her head in dismay.

  Kripa snorted. “Well, throughout the ages, these majestic Tribals have been bred for bloodshed and violence, so that might somewhat answer your question.”

  “Thank god, it’s only one of them.”

  Kalki was angry that regardless of his insurmountable strength, he had not been able to defeat a raging Simha. Maybe he had to just accept the fact that he wasn’t strong enough. Not yet, at the very least.

  Kalki realized Shuko had escaped when he had been fighting with Darooda. He whistled and hoped he would come. He whistled harder, quicker, louder, and the parrot appeared. He flapped inside the cave, and perched on Kalki’s shoulder.