Satyayoddha Kalki- Eye of Brahma

by Kevin Missal

  “Who?” Kadru arched her brows.

  “Manasa.”

  Nala was never the ‘revenge’ sort of a person.

  In fact, the only reason he was coming all the way from Alak was because he had started feeling constricted there. The sand dunes, the ugly hot weather—he was sick of that place. He had been on his way to Indragarh with his army only to learn midway that his father had been killed by a young girl.

  A girl!

  Nala spat at the idea, but then he knew his father was not an intelligent man. Now Nala was stranded in the middle of nowhere, waiting outside the gates of Indragarh with his men.

  He was resting on a cushion, sipping his wine, next to his naked Apsara wife, Rambha. Her emerald necklace gleamed in the light.

  “Kill her,” the voice said in his head.

  Nala was not the sanest person. Since he was a child, he could hear his dead mother’s voice in his head. His father had murdered her after she had borne the kids. After all, women had no importance in the Yaksha tribe. That’s why they often slept with Apsaras, who could be easily disposed. But Nala had been exceptionally close to his mother and losing her made him lose his mind. He didn’t do anything about it, didn’t take his father’s life out of spite. All he wanted was to hear her voice, in any form.

  Nala wasn’t the ideal Yaksha. Tha Yakshas were bald and ugly, but he was handsome, tall, and firm. His ripped body, silky hair, dusky eyes, and deep voice made the women turn around to look at him. Everything about him exhibited a sense of royalty, especially when he wore his golden-laced overcoat with a dhoti, open in the front showing his rippling muscles. He had a goatee.

  “Was it the right thing to do? Letting Gumukha appoint Ramras as the king?” the voice asked.

  “I don’t care,” he whispered to himself so Rambha won’t hear him. “I would kill Ramras too. I just want . . . I just want to go inside and burn the place.”

  “That won’t be wise, my child. If you have Indragarh, you have the entire North.”

  “But I have never thought about ruling Indragarh.”

  “You are talking like your dead brother now, my child,” the voice chided. “Remember, there’s no progress in remaining the prince of Yakshas. Now with your father dead, you have no one stopping you. You are the heir to Alak and you can be the heir to Indragarh.”

  The thought rolled around in his mind. His father always told him to never be too ambitious but his mother wanted him to chase his dreams. It was the only way to survive.

  It was not so bad.

  “First, give them what they want and then infiltrate and rob them,” the voice of his mother spoke to him softly. “And you can only do it if you dream bigger.”

  “I don’t have a big army. Manavs still outnumber us.”

  “You can buy the mercenaries. Money is something we are never short of.”

  Nala thought for a moment. His wife grazed the back of his coat.

  “My dear, who are you mumbling to?” she asked.

  Nala ignored her.

  “Kill her,” his mother said. “She has stayed too long and cannot even bear you an heir. Kill her.”

  Nala shook his head. He was wild and impulsive, but he didn’t want to kill the only person who cared for him—Rambha. She was always there for him. She let him bed other girls, but didn’t sleep with other men. That was what Nala loved about her—she let him own her without making him feel restricted. Nala turned to see Rambha . She is perfect. Intoxicated by her green eyes and her broad smile, he leaned forward and kissed her on the neck. She giggled. He then kissed her on the cheeks and then on her lips.

  “Erm, my lord?”

  Nala grunted. He hated being disturbed when he was in bed. Standing close to the tent flaps was a young Yaksha soldier.

  “My lord, Lady Urvashi has sent her messenger. She demands your presence.”

  “Ah.” Nala smiled looking at Rambha who patted him proudly.

  Nala walked to the guard and asked, “What did Gumukha say?”

  “I haven’t received any news from him.”

  Ramras lost.

  That was not a problem. Gumukha’s plan had been flimsy. He nodded to himself as the voice in his head spoke again, “Do not be hasty. Do not kill the girl. Perhaps she could be used for later.”

  Nala nodded to himself. The Yaksha guard looked at him, confused. Nala said to him, “Tell the messenger that we can have a meeting here in the centre of the camp. I shall not go inside . . .” because I don’t trust that girl .

  “Aren’t we going to war, my lord? Wasn’t that the original plan?”

  Nala had an amused look on his face. “Plans change, my friend. Plans change all the time. Just tell the messenger, all right?”

  The guard nodded and left. Nala turned to see his lavish, luxurious tent with candles and fire lamps, grapes and wine. In the centre was a bed on which were plush cushions and smooth cotton blankets. Rambha casually opened her hair as she asked, “What do you plan to do?”

  Nala thought for a moment.

  “Kill her,” said the voice again. “She has no reason to stay alive anymore.”

  Nala sighed. “I don’t know,” he responded, ignoring his mother’s voice. “I just don’t know. But for some reason, I’m excited to see what happens next.”

  Things are finally getting interesting.

  An open tent had been set up for Urvashi’s welcome. Some food and drinks had been placed inside it but Nala made sure that his guards had been armed, ready to strike if the need arose. Unfortunately, Yakshas weren’t the strongest and the fittest when it came to battle like the Rakshas, but they could take someone in a fight. They were quite sharp.

  Lady Urvashi arrived. Nala stood up from his chair.

  Urvashi had an oval-shaped face. Her braids stirred and her long robe rustled as she walked. Two bannermen stood at her sides and fifteen guards marched behind her.

  The roads were dusty and sandy. Some trees and bushes had grown at the sides. Nalakuvera had had most of the trees around the tent removed.

  Nala also noticed that just like he had brought Rambha, she had brought two men—one short with wavy hair with a scar on his face and one black-haired hunk who looked like a wrestler. Nala’s heart raced in excitement at the sight of these handsome men. He liked men as well as women.

  Urvashi didn’t take a seat. She was being formal.

  “Let’s cut to the chase. I harmed your father, so I’m here to make a proposition.”

  “Harmed?” His eyes brightened. “You killed my father.”

  Urvashi remained impassive.

  “Mind to sit down with me?” Nala asked.

  She shook her head. “I’m here to make a proposition. If you won’t listen, I shall return. I don’t plan on dining with blackmailers.”

  “I’m not a blackmailer,” he softly added. “I’m just a . . . well . . . I’m just a boy who wants to have his father’s corpse so I could give him a proper Yaksha burial.”

  “That could be arranged.”

  “And Gumukha said you were unreasonable!” he exclaimed with a laugh. “Why did you kill my father? I mean, he’s not the most pleasant man, I know, but why?”

  She looked in his eyes and said, “He killed my father.”

  “Karma,” he nodded. “You sure you don’t want anything to eat?”

  She shook her head. “Ramras told me you plan to attack my city if I become the queen.” Nala was keenly observing Urvashi. Her eyes are so expressive. There is wisdom beyond her years in those irises. “Would you do that?”

  “It depends on how reasonable you are. I mean, I thought my involvement would make Ramras the king. But I’m surprised they chose you. You must have offered something really enticing for them to be interested.”

  “Yes, I convinced them.” She paused as the scarred boy leaned down and whispered something in her ear. She nodded and then said, “I come in peace. If you accept my friendship, you and your army can situate yourself in the quarters and fort that
once belonged to Lord Kuvera, and you can give him a proper burial there. I wish you no harm and I hope we can let bygones be bygones.”

  She’s good.

  “It’s convenient for you, isn’t it? That she has killed your father. Although I guess he deserved it,” the voice said. “She can be useful. She holds the North. Marry her!”

  Nala didn’t hate the idea. It did make sense, but then he had Rambha who he was lawfully wedded to. The only other problem was Urvashi was quite young for Nala, though there was no age barrier in marriage for Yakshas.

  Nala stood up and walked towards Urvashi. Urvashi did the same as Nala extended his hand. “I accept your partnership. Let’s hope this benefits both of us.”

  Urvashi had a sly smile on her face. “It would.” And she shook his hand.

  Urvashi began to leave. Nala watched her party retreat. He stood watching them for a few moments and then Rambha came and stood beside him. She was wearing nothing but a transparent robe, her bushy hair cascading down her back. She whispered in Nala’s ears, “You are really letting your father’s killer leave unscathed?”

  Nala knew what she meant. Where they lived, the Yakshas pretty much considered Kuvera a god. They used to touch his feet, wipe his hands, kiss him palms. For them, all the other gods meant nothing. And when you kill a god, there’s no knowing what his followers would do.

  Nala turned to face the Yakshas who were standing behind him in a line. They looked disappointed. And then Nala realized something—since his father and elder brother were dead, he was their god now.

  “For now,” Nala said and kissed his wife passionately, as he thought about a plan that might just work in his favour. “But I’m seeing the bigger picture.”

  The plans were being discussed in the biggest hut in Dandak.

  Kalki stood in the corner, cross-armed. He was listening to the conversation between the quarrelling Vanars. At times, they would begin to squeal and croak arguing with Lord Bajrang. Even though he was revered like a god all across Illavarti, his people didn’t hesitate to voice their apprehension. Lord Bajrang often glanced at Kalki, worried.

  Shuko was sitting on Kalki’s shoulder. He was getting bored. Ratna and Smrit had joined the planning council, but neither was speaking much. Kalki knew they were much more interested in freeing the Apsaras that Kalki had seen in Taar’s camp.

  Plan for them, Shuko said.

  I’m not Arjan. Arjan was a planner, I am more of an executioner.

  Well, Arjan is not here. So, I would like you to plan.

  Kalki sighed. Where did you go for so long? You kept vanishing in between.

  If you plan, I will tell.

  That’s . . . all right. Kalki smiled to himself. Shuko would often disappear for days only to be seen later on. This parrot comes and goes as he pleases.

  Kalki came forward and stood near the table. A map had been spread on it. There were scribbles all over it. He could see the location where Taar was stationed along with his men. He was in the hills near a valley and in front of the hills, was the frozen lake where the battle might happen. It was not an ideal battleground. The ice was thin. One misstep, and they would plunge to their deaths.

  “One needs to cross this frozen lake to reach us.” Bajrang sighed. “And from the back, there’s a steep way, but it should be well-guarded. There’s another path that Taar might take to come here . . .” he showed the flimsy design of the bridge that reached Bajrang’s camp. “What I suggest is block all paths and stand in defence. The moment they arrive, we go in.”

  “But my lord,” one of the Vanars said, “you can stop them single-handedly. Please, stop them.”

  Lord Bajrang looked up. There was pain in his eyes. “You know I promised Lord Raghav that I shall not involve myself in battles after the one we had with Dushasan. And I mean to keep that promise.”

  Kalki didn’t know about this. Lord Bajrang was revered for keeping his word. And it was true—Lord Bajrang was so strong that he could beat an army, but he won’t, because he was a man of his word.

  “But what if we lose?”

  “Then we lose,” sighed Bajrang. “But I shall not fight. That’s why we are planning our defence. I’ll be always there to help you . . . methodically, but not physically. I cannot do that.”

  That’s a bad plan, Shuko said.

  Shut up. You are a just parrot. Don’t act like you know everything about battle plans.

  Kalki raised his hand as if he was in gurukul. Bajrang looked at him and smiled. “What is it?”

  “What about my frien . . . I mean what about Padma? If we are not attacking, that means my friends are going to die.”

  Bajrang looked puzzled. Kalki realized Bajrang had not anticipated this. He had not thought about Kalki’s friends at all. But Kalki had.

  “I, uh . . .”

  “What about the Apsaras?” asked Ratna, gritting her teeth. “I explicitly told you I’m here with my friend just so that I can liberate them. I am not interested in joining your pointless Vanar politics.”

  Bajrang didn’t take offense at that. He listened to Ratna with patience.

  “All right. I have another plan.” He cheekily grinned, trying to diminish the tension with his lovable nature. “You and you,” he pointed at Kalki and Ratna, “go from here,” he said, pointing towards the back of Taar’s camp which snaked through the valley. “Sneak in, find your friends and comrades, get them out and leave. You don’t have to join our cause. But I cannot give you any of my men because they’ll be blocking these two entrances . . .” he pointed at the frozen river, which was near the Frontier, and the bridge.

  “Seems fair,” Ratna nodded and left the hut with Smrit.

  What? Kalki was confused. Did Ratna just agree to having no backup? Did she really think she could defeat so many bloodthirsty Vanars? He had seen them. They had looked dangerous. He had seen their sturdy armour and sharp axes. It was not wise to attack them mindlessly. Plus, Vanars’ hearing was sharp. The slightest of sound, and they will be caught. They cannot be taken by surprise.

  “Is it fine with you?” Bajrang asked, concerned.

  Kalki reluctantly nodded.

  “Good.” He smiled. “I’ll show you what you’ll be riding now.” He muttered something to his Vanar general to execute the plan into motion, informing him of the men who were to be stationed at various locations in the camp, and of the men who were to remain inside for backup.

  Kalki followed Bajrang out of the hut and into the thick crust of snow that lay on the field. As he walked, Kalki tried to catch up to Bajrang. “I didn’t know you had renounced violence.”

  “I had to. It was the only way to stop it.”

  “Stop what?”

  “Stop violence.”

  They were coming close to a wide range of red tents where horses had been lined up in a stable, tied to wooden barks.

  “Just because you have stopped violence, doesn’t mean the world will,” Kalki said grimly. The idea seemed foolish and kind of suicidal. Bajrang’s and Taar’s men were about to slaughter each other. “It’ll not make a difference and there will still be evil at bay. At least if you fight, you have a chance of winning.”

  Bajrang responded. “There might be. But then when will it stop? The problem is we think one man can’t make a difference. If your morality is in the right place and you have a strong will, then all you need is one man to make a difference. You ask how? Because he ends up inspiring the world to follow these morals.” He winked.

  “You are preaching to be peaceful but the world is ending. That’s idealistic. You should be practical.”

  “I’m an idealist through and through.”

  Kalki laughed as he reached the stable, but then he saw the Vanars sitting on the horses. They were taking them away.

  “You need a ride,” Bajrang said. There were only mules and donkeys left in the stable now. “But my men have already taken the best stallions for themselves.”

  “Monkeys on horses?” Kalki chuckled.
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  Bajrang smiled back at Kalki. He was not offended and Kalki had immediately regretted saying it. “Vanars are actually not monkeys, they are just worshippers of monkeys. You do realize that, don’t you? The word vana means jungle and nar means man. That means we are men of the jungle, but since we have to migrate in the winters, I don’t know what we are.” He shrugged, his muscles flexing in the process.

  “Kripa drinks so much because he is tired of being an Immortal. How are you so content with your life?”

  They reached the end of the stable where Kalki saw a white stallion.

  “I think it’s about the attitude towards the problem.”

  Kalki nodded. Bajrang was philosophizing again but he had a point. Would Bhargav Ram mentor me like Lord Bajrang?

  Bhargav Ram was the sixth Avatar of Lord Vishnu. He must know so much.

  “Who’s this?” Kalki asked about the white horse. The horse grunted at Kalki.

  “This is someone who no one rides because no one can ride him,” Bajrang said and patted the horse.

  The horse looked regal. His fur was white but had a golden tinge to it. The hair on his mane were dense and silky. They flowed freely in the breeze.

  “I tried as well. We found him in the forest, drinking from the stream nearby. But we couldn’t domesticate him.”

  “And no one could ride him?”

  Bajrang shook his head. “Do you know how to ride horses?”

  “Oh, I wish.”

  Kalki came inside the den where the white horse stood. He patted him on the head and brushed his skin. With a quick jerk, the horse used its back limbs to kick him. Kalki landed at the other end of the stable, as Shuko leapt from Kalki’s shoulder to save himself. Bajrang helped him up.

  “He’s feisty.” Kalki panted.

  “I told you,” Bajrang said. “I think I can give you my horse.”

  “No,” Kalki shook his head as Shuko perched on his shoulder again. “I shall ride him. I think we can come to an understanding.”

  The horse grunted in response.

  “Or not.”

  Bajrang laughed. “You are a funny man, Kalki.” Then he turned serious. Listen, you must leave as soon as you get your friends.”