Satyayoddha Kalki- Eye of Brahma

by Kevin Missal

  As they reached the final door, Durukti stopped and took a deep breath.

  “You know, I heard you had raided Shambala. Why are you so scared of a mere handmaiden?”

  “She’s a Vidhyadhara,” Durukti whispered. “And I’m a woman of science. I don’t know how to deal with someone who dabbles with magic.”

  Urvashi patted her on the shoulder. “Magic and science, as history has told, go along with each other.”

  Durukti softly smiled before she knocked on the door. “I’ll distract her while you . . . what will you do again?”

  “Don’t worry about my plan.”

  Before Durukti could protest, the door opened, revealing Symrin. She was not as beautiful as Lady Durukti, and she had a large forehead which was offly irritating about her. Also, she had six fingers in one of her hands. The extra one was protruding, like some creature. Urvashi had heard about these defects and if this defect would have been found in the Rakshas tribe, she would have found her home in the gutters.

  Not that Urvashi promoted this kind of behaviour.

  “My lady.” Symrin bowed.

  “What were you doing?” Durukti asked, retaining a blank expression on her face.

  Oh, she’s playing well.

  “My lady, I was sewing some of my torn clothes.”

  “All right,” Durukti snapped loudly, which made no sense to Urvashi. There was an awkward silence. Urvashi realized that it was time for her to pitch in the conversation.

  “You know, we were planning to go to the market and buy some fresh apples and the . . .” Urvashi abruptly trailed off. She looked at Symrin’s hair and exclaimed, “Oh dear!”

  “What?” Symrin was confused, touching her hair in the process.

  “What is that?” Urvashi pointed at her hair.

  “Nothing, what?” Symrin ruffled her hair even more now.

  “Dear, dear, that must be so disheartening. Hold on, let me check.” Urvashi came forward and grabbed a strand of hair, plucking it right off her head.

  Symrin moaned in the process. “What was that about?” She eyed Urvashi with suspicion. “My lady, what is it that you meant?”

  “I saw a white hair, it’s all right now.”

  “How is that possible?”

  “Bye!” Urvashi waved at her. Without glancing back, she grabbed Durukti’s arm and took her away from Symrin.

  “What about the trip to the bazaar?”

  But Urvashi didn’t bother to respond to that.

  They were back in Durukti’s quarters and Urvashi slyly sat over the bed. With her lip protruding in full focus, she began to wrap the thin hair around the wooden figurine.

  “You were good,” Durukti remarked, clearly impressed with her spontaneity.

  “I know.” Urvashi smiled.

  “What do you plan to do with the doll?”

  “It’s not a doll. It’s Symrin.” She had tied the hair properly now and showed it to Durukti.

  “Symrin?”

  “Oh yes, this doll is Symrin now. The wood is not ordinary wood. It contains magical properties. My guru gave it to me, to use it to make dolls out of them and then use it as I saw fit. You see, if I do anything to the doll, the actual person will be impacted.”

  Durukti held the doll with an inquisitive face. “Interesting. Are you sure it works?”

  “I tried it on one of my servants. They weren’t happy about it.”

  “So, I prick, poke and stab . . . what if I break the doll?”

  “The person will be broken as well.”

  “This is black magic, right?”

  “Yep.”

  “What kind of guru did you have?”

  Urvashi flustered. “Um, I shouldn’t have told you this but since you are a Tribal yourself, I didn’t think before revealing my secret. Let’s come back to the matter at hand.”

  “How will this doll help me get the truth out?”

  “You can just torture someone into doing your bidding.” Urvashi clapped excitedly. “Can I see when you do it?”

  “Torture? How are you even Vedanta’s daughter?”

  Urvashi sighed. It had often been said to her that she was mean, that she had a dark streak. She would never admit it to anybody, but she had never been afraid of bloodshed. But then again, she wasn’t a bad person and she would never hurt anyone intentionally. Lady Durukti had made the choice to hurt Symrin as much as she wanted, making her the torturer. Thus, this absolved Urvashi from her supposed crime.

  Urvashi’s penchant for cruel and dark things didn’t stem out of her mother’s sudden death, but it had had its part to play. After her mother’s passing, she had secluded herself from everyone, engaging in cruel acts against the local horses, and even the soldiers. She would stab the animals in anger and then run away. Since she was the king’s daughter, she had never been punished. She had calmed down a lot since then. There were a lot of feelings, emotions that she felt she should have, but she didn’t care. The only emotions she now had were towards her father. Rest of the people were dolls and toys to play with.

  “I still don’t believe you, you know.” Durukti’s tongue lolled inside the cheek of her mouth, something Urvashi noticed that she did a lot.

  “I am telling you the truth. This only works when you are in close proximity.”

  “How close are we talking about?”

  Urvashi cheekily grinned. “Let’s test it out!”

  Urvashi had knocked on the door of Symrin and instantly rushed away from the scene to the farthest corner where Durukti was. They stood together, hidden at the end of the corridor, shrouded in the darkness. The door opened and Symrin came out, looking left and right, hoping to see the person who had knocked.

  “Now watch.” Urvashi licked her lips as she took the doll and with her metal hairpin, she pricked its abdomen. And she did it so much that it pierced hard into the wood.

  “Ouch,” the sound didn’t come from Symrin.

  It was from Durukti.

  “Wait, what?” A confused Urvashi turned to see Durukti reel back over the floor, her tunic turning red from a wound at the very point that Urvashi had punctured the doll.

  Instantly realizing what had happened, Urvashi pulled out the pin and tossed it on the other side, sitting down on the floor and grabbing Durukti’s head. She was worried, befuddled. “I’ll call the aid, don’t worry. I don’t know how this is . . .” and she was left out of words when she saw Durukti’s pale face. Blood was draining away from it. She had been careful. Magic was never supposed to work on the wrong target. But it had happened. She began to make a move when she realized that the hair thing wasn’t working. Perhaps because the magic had been reversed. But it could have been reversed only if Symrin had known that the hair had been taken from her. The only way this could have happened was if Symrin too had Durukti’s hair at her disposal.

  Binding magic was quite a complicated affair, but in short, Symrin had played them. Symrin had realized that her hair had been plucked for the ritual and she had reversed the effect towards Durukti. But when did Symrin get Durukti’s hair? Though it was no surprise. They were practically together all the time. She could have taken them at any time.

  And in the middle of her thought process, Urvashi realized a shadow had turned up, dimming the light. Urvashi turned to see Symrin at the back, cross-armed. She had a disarming grin on her face. Now, she looked like a witch.

  “Well, well . . . since you two have found out everything, it’s time I end you both.” And with sparks around her fingertips, Urvashi realized that Symrin was using Internal Magic.

  Escape was out of the question. They were about to die.

  Finally, he would get the chance to kill a Rakshas.

  Vedanta was prepared. He had worn his tuni and his bronze armour with the symbol of lightning emblazoned on it. He prayed to the power of Vajra, Lord Indra’s bolt, asking for his blessings. He was ready. The axe was holstered, the sword was sheathed, the boots were tightened, but he was worried.

 
He didn’t know why. Sitting on the bed, he swallowed a lump in his throat.

  By Lord Indra, I should not be afraid.

  And yet he was. It hurt him to realize he had to do such things in the name of honour and justice, to take back what was rightfully his. He should have done this earlier, but now, these were desperate times.

  They hurt my beliefs. And I shall hurt them now.

  He looked at his plants and noticed something. In all past few chaotic days while he had been planning and plotting on how to hurt Pradm, he had forgotten to water them or tell his servants to do so. And the plants seemed off—dead leaves lay there, some withered from the roots. He touched them gently, almost wondering if the plants were trying to communicate something . . . that he was withering like them.

  No.

  Vedanta straightened. He decided he would come back later and bring a set of new potted plants to put in the porch of his room. He called out to his maidservant who instantly rushed in. She was wearing a long, dry gown, almost raggedy, and a clothed headwear that was wrapped around her bald head.

  “Where’s Urvashi?” Vedanta asked.

  The maidservant shook her head. “She went to the library and has not returned yet.”

  “Are the soldiers with her?”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “If she returns before me, tell her . . . take her to a safe location, the lair, underground with food and clothes and stay there until my messenger comes to get you. Either he comes or I do. Don’t move before either of us arrive at the location.”

  The maidservant nodded.

  “What are you planning to do, my lord, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  He didn’t mind her asking, but he closed his eyes and pictured his wife. If only she wouldn’t have passed away due to illness, things would be far simpler. There would be someone to take care of Urvashi if something happened to him. But no. Things will never be simpler. And he had to act now.

  He didn’t say anything. But he knew what he was doing. He was waging a war against a king, the very thing some people had done to him a long time ago.

  They had failed. But if he failed, then everything else will.

  Vedanta had roped in a few of Yaksha archers from Lord Kuvera. Kuvera had gladly given them to him. He was on his horse with almost more than a dozen of his personal soldiers—trusted ones. He could have done it discreetly, but no, he wanted to do it in public and show his might, in honour of his people.

  He passed the bazaar and made way to the shrine where Pradm was supposedly stationed according to the scouting reports he had received. When he reached, he did find the shrine of Lord Indra’s abode—his carrier, Airavarta, who used to help him travel from one place to another. Unlike others, Lord Indra didn’t travel on foot or on horse, but on his elephant who had the ability to fly. Vedanta believed in the scriptures and how they were told, though many said Airavarta was an advanced form of a vimana, which were flying machines fuelled by Soma. But that was just nonsense.

  He saw Pradm who was speaking to some of his men. He was wearing a saffron coloured cloth wrapped around the body. His armour was glinting in the light and a flimsy sword hung on his belt. Other Rakshas were hammering away, breaking apart the shrine. People had already begun to gather to see the spectacle and Vedanta was feeling more confident than he should have. He was going to enjoy this. He had more men than Pradm, and Pradm in comparison to Vedanta looked weak.

  “Infidel!” Vedanta called out the Rakshas General.

  Pradm turned, confused, watching the army in surprise. Even his men stopped hammering and looked at Vedanta. Somewhere deep down, Vedanta felt triumph and he cast his fears aside.

  “What is the meaning of this, Lord Vedanta?”

  Even for a Rakshas, Pradm was quite decent. Rakshas were uncouth, foul-mouthed, rowdy creatures, like Martanja. He was a menace wherever he went.

  “This is a rebellion against the actions performed by you and Kali,” Vedanta announced, dismounting from his horse.

  Vedanta peered across the skies. The rooftops of the tall buildings were lined up with Yakshas archers, ready to hit if Pradm tried to do something funny.

  “You are out of your mind. Go back to your home.”

  Vedanta shook his head.

  Pradm laughed to himself as if he was witnessing some joke and then he pulled out his sword. Vedanta did as well, gesturing the archers to not hit him.

  It was a duel between him and Pradm.

  Not even Vedanta’s soldiers intervened. They were just roaring and clapping for their true, honourable king.

  Pradm came forward with his sword, dashing it, while Vedanta dodged it, deflecting metal with metal and hitting it right across the knee. He grabbed Pradm from the waist and then pushed him forward, using his sword to parry, only to be deflected by Pradm.

  “You cannot defeat me. I’m from the great Rakshas tribe.”

  “Watch me.”

  The public was stunned and all the noise in the background had gone silent for Vedanta. That’s what he had learnt in the swordplaying practices when he was young— just focus on your opponent and you will only hear your opponent’s movements.

  And that’s what happened. Each step Pradm took, Vedanta noticed it, calculated his countermove, and then dodged the incoming attack. And finally with one quick step, he sliced through Pradm’s torso, and with another swift action, stabbed him in the eye. Blood spilled all over as Pradm fell on the ground.

  Standing on top of him, Vedanta pulled out the sword and lifted it high up. Some men from the crowd beamed. His men roared with laughter and were clapping.

  The other Rakshas didn’t interfere in the rejoicing moment of Vedanta as he came to them, walking slowly. “I shall not kill you for a king doesn’t harm the innocent. Go to Kali and tell him that Vedanta is coming for his head.”

  The Rakshas were confused, especially when Vedanta noticed blood trickling out of his body. He turned to see an arrow had pierced him in the back, which he hadn’t realized in a purge of happiness. He pulled that arrow out and looked up.

  The Yakshas had shot him down.

  And then the storm of arrows descended on him.

  Some tore through Vedanta’s men and their horses as they collapsed. Some tried to defend themselves from the onslaught, but with the consecutive attacks, defense was out of the question. In a fit of rage, Vedanta cried out in fury as a volley of arrows was shot at him—four arrows simultaneously pierced him.

  He fell on the ground, dust swirling around him, his sword slipping from his grasp. As he looked up, he saw his men, bloody and sprawled dead on the floor. The survivors were crying in pain. There was a stampede in the public, and people were still trying to understand what was happening.

  And in the darkness that ensued, from the corner of his eye, he saw a large, golden chariot upon which sat Kali, a few paces away from all the destruction. With his soldiers flanked on each side, he was doing nothing but watching the mass slaughter. Enjoying the bloody spectacle.

  And on Kali’s side, standing firmly, and beaming with confidence, was Kuvera.

  It was a long walk.

  After coming to the shore, opposite to the river, the Suparns made them walk all the way. Manasa didn’t give much thought to it as they were escorted to the military camp, with swords being pointed at them, in case they decided to attack. But Manasa didn’t have the slightest intention to attack them. What she wanted to know was why would the Suparns vow to destroy Vasuki’s bloodline? This was clearly not a one-sided battle. Multiple forces were at work. If her brother’s family hadn’t been killed as collateral damage by the Suparns, she would have tried to form an alliance with them.

  Not that she had a choice anymore.

  She couldn’t help but remember how it all had started. The two tribes, the Nagas and the Suparns, used to be partners—they had found a river where marshes of Somalata plants used to grow. These plants produced a liquid that could be harnessed and used for various purposes. Since it
had originated from the caves that joined the river, it had gone to Suparns because it had been in their region, but they were happy to share the minerals and ores of Somalata with the Nagas to have a fruitful relationship with them.

  Suparns began to use their Soma for purposes of burning them and then using them for flight—artificial wings made out of metal and feathers and doused in Soma. That helped them to undertake long flights in the air and gave them an advantage in their military capabilities against other Dakshinis, especially the Rakshas and Vanars. The Nagas wanted Somas for their health and well-being, though they used it sparingly, for it came expensive to them from the Suparns. They called these Somas ‘Amrit’ or ‘Naagmani’ since they believed Lord Sheesha had gifted them from his throat to the Nagas.

  Manasa thought about the conversation she had had with Padma back in Indragarh. How she had lied to her, saying that the Nagas had no Soma left. Truth was that they had had some of it stored in Lord Sheesha’s temple. Though now they had nothing. The temple had been raided during the Suparn attack.

  Problems started occurring when Amrit started running out of stock and the Suparns stopped the trade. They decided it would be beneficial to have the rest for themselves. They chose to sever relations with the Nagas over this and that angered the Nagas since they believed Suparns were hindering the nectar of Lord Sheesha. Thus began the war between the two. It started off with small battles and then grew into a full-scale war.

  Vasuki had stopped caring about the Soma. He had chosen to be a part of Kali’s campaign. Udaiyas seemed more of an interesting world to him. Manasa’s stance was also similar. It didn’t matter much to her either, but there was something odd about all of this. The reason the war began between the Nagas and the Suparns was because of Manasa and Vasuki’s father, who had been ill and had wanted the Soma to recover. Things went sideways from then on. After having the Soma once, he grew deranged and had to be taken down by his own men. That had proved to the people that the Amrit could make you mad. Manasa didn’t dispute this fact since she had noticed that whoever used Soma, went on a spiralling effect of fever, dementia, and acted like a whack.