by Kevin Missal
Aruna shrugged. “How does it matter to me? Isn’t that what Bajrang did to us?”
“You shouldn’t be harming the children and the women. These are your own people.”
“They are NOT OUR PEOPLE! For those who support Bajrang, shall also carry his sins.”
And with that, he shot an arrow at Kalki. Kalki deflected it with his shield.
“FOR TAAR!” Aruna screamed as he aimed at Kalki again.
And that was when a figure leapt from the trees, grabbing Aruna and stabbing him in the back. Aruna coughed up blood. Before he could turn around and see who had attacked him, Padma appeared in front of him. She was bruised all over but gathered her strength and tore his spine in half. She jerked the corpse upwards, flinging the dead Vanar at Kalki’s feet.
“Thanks,” Kalki said, smiling at her.
Padma smiled back. “You saved me, I saved you. He talked too much. I couldn’t take it anymore.”
“I know.”
Kalki shrugged. He saw more of Taar’s men appearing at the entrance of the bridge. With the shield in his hand, he walked towards it. He kept the shield in front, with all his force behind it. As the guards jumped at him and retaliated, Kalki held them off. It was tough but he tried not to let them go any further. The Vanars tried to jab Kalki, but he only got scratches.
And with one step and one push at a time, he kept toppling them to the side from whence they came. Kalki peered from behind his shield. He kept pushing to the point that all the Vanars who had gathered on the bridge were thrown on the other side.
Kalki was in the middle of the bridge by now as he panted. Pushing out more than thirty Vanars with just a shield as a weapon had been difficult, but he had done it. A horn resounded as the Vanars stood transfixed with shock.
Kalki turned to see who was blowing the horn. He saw Taar on a horse, above the cliffs from his side of the bridge as he descended slowly. The Vanars stopped fighting. Everything was at a standstill. Taar dismounted from the horse and took off his golden robe.
Kalki stood there dumbstruck, unable to comprehend what Taar was trying to do.
And when Taar wore his gauntlets and armed himself with small spikes of bronze and gold, Kalki realized that he was being challenged for a one-on-one match with him.
Taar walked to the bridge, adjusting his gauntlets. His tall figure was intimidating. The bridge shuddered a little when he walked upon it, as if his steps were too heavy for it.
Kalki knew he could defeat Taar, but not with those spikes. They looked sharp enough to sear right through Kalki’s skin and puncture his vital organs. They might harm and bruise and perhaps even internally bleed him out. Kalki knew he was not ready to fight the monster approaching him.
Standing a few paces away from Kalki who had a shield for a weapon, Taar said, “It’s you and me then. You surprised me with your strength. But then I noticed that symbol on your chest and then, I remembered. I’ve read about this symbol in the scriptures of Udaiyas. That Lord Vishnu reincarnates in every Age to fight evil, and this . . . this is his mark.”
“You must have read the flimsy version then. You see, I was not born with this symbol. I earned it.”
Taar shook his head as he began to run towards Kalki. Kalki sprinted too, holding the shield in front for defending himself.
That instant, Taar somersaulted up in the air. Kalki looked up at him, confused. Suddenly, he felt sharp blades tearing through his back. The pain was unbearable. He was on his knees.
Kalki realized that he was bleeding as he struggled to stand up.
“These spikes, they are made of obsidian. They are the sharpest weapons of all. I suppose this spiritual symbol you’ve earned wouldn’t make much of a difference in front of this.”
Kalki gritted his teeth as Taar paced himself. He punched and punched like a rabid animal, but Kalki deflected each blow with his shield. Taar was quite powerful. Kalki’s shield was cracked now.
Taar leapt from his place, throwing the spikes with force. He raced towards Kalki and punched the shield right in the middle, shattering it completely.
Kalki now held a tiny part of the shiled as Taar smiled with confidence.
“You are nothing but words, son.”
Taar punched Kalki on the face and before Kalki could gather his wits, he punched Kalki on the abdomen. It was so fast and sharp that Kalki was met with immense pain and surprise with each blow. And with a final punch on Kalki’s chin, Taar tossed him aside. Kalki spat volumes of blood, panting for help.
Kalki could see Padma and Ratna standing on the cliff, close to the entrance of the bridge, worried. Padma wanted to help him, but this was Taar and Kalki’s fight.
She could not interfere.
This was only between him and the Vanar general.
“Where is Bajrang now? Has he left you, son?” He grabbed Kalki’s throat and dangled him in the air. Kalki gasped for air. “Just like he left us. He served one incarnation of Lord Vishnu, right? Why isn’t he serving the other? Bias, you say? That’s what I hate. You know, now I wonder if Bajrang has the powers that our legends spoke of. Flying? Controlling his size? They are tall tales made by men who worshipped him. They are not true. At the end of the day, he is a weak man who can’t do anything, just like you are a weak boy who thinks he can defeat me.”
He grabbed Kalki and carried him towards the edge of the bridge. “I wanted to choke you till I could see the light leave your eyes, but it’s better if your friends don’t find your body.”
And he released his grip.
Kalki was glad that Taar had released him. He could breathe now. But the breeze was harsh as it whipped it across his face. And then it him.
The rocks would batter his body. He was plunging to his death.
And then something picked him up.
Right when he was about to touch the ground, he was grabbed by something. Kalki was elevated in the air for a few moments, and then he felt himself rising.
He could hear the gasps from the people close to the bridge.
And then Kalki saw who it was.
Kalki was being held up by Lord Bajrang. He was flying.
He looked at the Vanar King’s face and saw something that he had never seen on his face—anger.
Flying.
The sight was awe-inspiring and comical at the same time. Bajrang was in the air, cradling Kalki like a baby.
Kalki was placed back on the bridge. Bajrang was suspended in the air. Finally, he landed and stood beside Kalki. He had his big, famous gadha dangling from his belt as he patted on Kalki’s back.
“I’m sorry I was late,” Bajrang said.
“You came to save me.” Kalki smiled as he realized that Taar was staring at Bajrang with his mouth open. He was horrified and afraid.
“Taar was beating you senseless and it was kind of selfish of me to not interfere. I won’t kill anyone, but at least I can aid you in the battle, right? I fought in my war ages ago. This is your war. And this is your chance to be who you are.” He kept his hand on Kalki’s head and said, “And you have my word. I’ll be there to pick you up when you fall, and I’ll be there to aid all my fellowmen, my tribe in moments of darkness. They will never be alone.”
Kalki nodded. “That’s what your tribe needs right now. Thank you.”
“Have this.” Bajrang gave him his gadha, unhooking it from his belt.
“Really?”
“Yes. For now, of course. But I want it back, boy.” He winked at him.
Kalki nodded.
“HOW DID YOU FLY, BAJRANG?” shouted Taar with his hoarse voice. “Was it one of your magic tricks? You only interfere when there’s a Vishnu Avatar involved but when it comes to your people, you back off?”
Bajrang flared his nostrils. Kalki could see he wanted to break Taar’s neck, but he refrained and remained patient. “Taar, I apologize for not helping our people in the past. But when have I ever left them alone? It’s fine if you besmirch my name, but if you drag my people to the ground, then yo
u shall face my wrath. I will protect them.”
“You’ve come to your senses too late. They don’t need a saviour. They need someone who can lead them and fight with them in the battles to come.” He crushed both the gauntlets together to unite his fists in his rage.
Kalki knew this was the time.
Holding the gadha in his hands, he sprinted towards Taar. Taar sprang towards Kalki, raging like a beast.
And at that moment, Kalki stopped. Taar was surprised but didn’t stop sprinting. Kalki used all his strength, swung the gadha, and waited.
He waited for the right moment.
The resounding blow landed on Taar, smacking his face and crushing his teeth. Blood poured out of his mouth and his nose as he reeled back with the impact. Taar wanted to swing his sword, but before he could muster the strength to do so, Kalki was upon him.
Kalki rose high up in the air, swung the gadha with full force and hit Taar’s spine. Taar tried to shield himself with his gauntlets, but his hands couldn’t reach his back. There was a loud cracking sound as Taar’s spine broke.
Kalki swung the gadha again and smacked Taar’s arms. The gauntlets cracked open. One gauntlet fell off as Taar looked on in horror.
But there was no stopping Kalki’s wrath.
He stepped on Taar’s arm, crushing it. Taar howled in pain as Kalki hit his wrist with the gadha, where the remaining gauntlet was. It shattered.
“NO!” Taar screamed.
Kalki stomped on Taar’s arm. He swung his gadha aiming for the already defeated Taar’s head, ready to smash it to a pulp.
“KALKI!” A voice boomed over the battlefield.
Kalki lowered the gadha. He kept his foot away from the shivering, rebellious Vanar as he looked at Bajrang. He was walking towards them.
Bajrang wasn’t angry anymore and looked at Taar with compassion.
“Don’t kill him.”
“Why? He might strike again.”
“He might, but he’s a monster I created. He is my responsibility to bear. Let me rehabilitate him.”
“He killed your people. Are you sure about that?”
“Of course.” Bajrang smiled, patting Kalki on the shoulder. “Being a hero, Kalki, doesn’t mean defeating the enemy. It’s also about giving them second chances.” He paused. “I shall help all those who had supported Taar in his conquest.”
Kalki was not sure if Bajrang’s decision was a wise one. But his faith in him outweighed any other emotion he was feeling. He nodded and handed the gadha back to Bajrang. At that moment, he saw Ratna and Padma approach the bridge with the surviving Vanars. Padma hugged Kalki tightly and Kalki hugged her back. Bajrang’s men grabbed Taar and took him. He looked forlorn.
The war had ended.
Bajrang left to address Taar’s men, making them understand the pointlessness of the rebellion that they had participated in.
Kalki felt a rush of gratitude and respect for the Vanar King, the Pawanputr. But he had another question. “How did you fly, Lord Bajrang? I thought you said they were tall tales.”
Bajrang looked back at Padma and Kalki.
And he smirked.
“Not all stories are tall tales. Sometimes, all you have to do is believe.”
Manasa was standing close to Vasuki’s family’s pur. It was being rebuilt.
She had ordered her men to build it again as a shrine for Vasuki—in his remembrance. As the Naga labourers worked hard, she looked at it and recalled all that had happened in the past few days—she had been defeated, wrecked, almost killed, and declared dead. She had lost her lover. She had lost her brother.
No more.
No more it shall be.
Manasa smiled as she turned to see that each mini-island that crowded Naagpuri didn’t only have Nagas, but Suparns as well. She was smart enough to not isolate the Suparns anymore—not after the entire Suparnabhoomi had been destroyed. The city had crumbled when all the pillars had collapsed. She was lending a hand to Tarakshya and as was promised, she was keeping the Suparns in Naagpuri till the Bhoomi was rebuilt.
Tarakshya had been reluctant about sending his people to Naagpuri, but he had no choice but to agree. Manasa had demanded a small price in return—every vimana that he had, she wanted them for her own cause.
“What do you plan to do now?” A familiar voice emerged from the back.
Manasa turned her head to see Vibhisana—bumbling and wiping his sweat on his double chin. He had come from Bhanmati to visit Manasa and congratulate her. She had achieved the impossible. There was a truce between the Suparns and the Nagas after so many years.
“I plan to restore peace to our empire. Naagmandal is still under crisis as our people do not like the idea of their rivals sharing the same space.”
“I presume that’ll be cleared soon . . . oh dear.” He wiped the sweat. “It’s too hot here!”
“That’s Naagpuri.” She clutched the Shard of glass her husband had gifted her. “Thank you for helping me.”
“No, you helped yourself, Manasa. I was just being a coward.” He sighed. “Because of you, we finally have a truce. You’ve set things right.”
Manasa nodded. She was happy. After such a long time of turmoil and defeat, she had won. “My dear friend,” she hugged Vibhisana, “I’m just glad I’m rebuilding the ruins that welcomed me when I first came here.” She glanced at the half-built pur.
“I’m glad too. So I have a few plans in mind. I want to extend the truce towards the Dandak as well . . .”
Manasa shook her head. “No. No more truces.”
“What do you mean?” He arched his thin brows.
“My dear, I have done all of this to do one thing—to take revenge on Kali for what he did to my brother, to my men, and to myself. I handled Kadru. The coast is clear. Now, I shall do what I came here for. Leave Kali to me,” she said, determined.
“You are sailing towards Udaiyas then?”
Manasa nodded. “Not sailing.”
“Then?”
Manasa smiled. “Flying towards it, my dear. Flying towards it.”
Arjan stood next to the funeral pyre.
He scratched his scrawny beard as he looked at the fire burning over a bunch of logs. The heat hurt his eyes, but he watched the fire without blinking. A light breeze was blowing and the trees were sighing. He wrapped his arms around himself. His face was tear-stained, clenched in grief. And he looked at himself in the fire—it reminded him of something from the past.
He was in a small village close to Illavarti where he had taken refuge. He had gone to the closest shaman and gotten his wounds treated—he had been bandaged, and treated with healthy ointments. The power of invincibility had vanished when he had killed Urvashi. He had realized that the Soma worked on emotions—the stronger your emotions are, the stronger you become. And when Rudra had died, Arjan’s anger and grief had made him invincible.
As the fire blazed in front of him, he held the small-rolled up parchment and decided to read it again.
To my dearest brother,
I am safe and sound. I’m at Dandak now and will be leaving for Mahendragiri soon. I have heard that you are safe too and I’m glad. I’ll be returning soon and I hope everything will be fine till then. I miss you, brother, and I remember how we sat and talked in the fields of our village. Hope we do it again once everything is over. You were right about Padma. She is as good as you. You both have good hearts. And I hope you both stay like that.
Till we see each other again,
Kalki
Arjan stopped reading. Shuko had given him the letter and left. Initially Arjan had been glad to receive it—at least, he knew for sure now that his brother was alive, but when he read about him having a ‘good heart’, he grew depressed. He felt guilty.
No. I don’t have a good heart anymore.
I killed a young girl with my bare hands.
Arjan sighed, unable to accept that he had committed a murder. He hadn’t been able to control his anger. He just had to . . . end h
er. And even though he should be regretting it, if he got another chance to do it, he would. Any day.
Rudra was dead because of her.
“They told me you’ll be here.” A voice came from the back. It was royal, majestic, but papery.
Arjan turned away from the pyre and saw a tall man. He was wearing an overcoat with gold linings on his garments. He had all sorts of jewellery while Arjan, on the other hand, was wearing a scorched dhoti.
Nala was standing with twenty or so Yakshas and some Manavs as well. The villagers were watching the spectacle with curiosity. People were surprised that a man from the royal court had to come to meet a civilian. He walked in front, leaving his men behind. “I apologize for what happened to you. Urvashi was kind of an idiot, right?”
Arjan didn’t dignify this statement with a response. Nala’s empty words were irritating him.
“All I want to say is, Arjan, I’ve heard what you did. You slaughtered an army by yourself. And yet, you stand here, denouncing your divinity.” Nala smiled, the shadows of the fire hitting him, with half his face darkened.
The sun was dipping in the horizon. Scarlet threads sprawled across the sky.
“The thing with gods is, they need people to worship them,” Nala added. “To feed on their ego. I know that because in my culture, I’m a god. But in front of you, I’m nobody. I can be killed, while you can’t.”
Arjan whispered, “I’m not a god.”
“That is exactly what a god would say.” Nala chuckled. “You must understand, Arjan. We live in a world where men are not capable of ruling themselves. They don’t need a king. They need a god to rule them. That’s why the Yaksha society thrives while the Manavs fail because kings . . . they are humane—weak and fragile. They need someone to look up to, otherwise men like Rudra . . . die and perish. Imagine how many people like Rudra you can help if you assume that pedestal.”
Arjan’s gaze widened. He understood what Nala was implying. “What do you want?”
“I have a lot of money, Arjan. Initially I thought of using that money for myself, to sponsor myself and be the king. But then it would be just another one of my selfish desires. I don’t think I am suitable for the throne. What I want is to support someone I believe in . . . and that’s you. I want you to be the king. My mother . . .” he twitched at the thought, “She feels I’ll be protected if I partner with you, associate myself with you because she sees great, grand visions for your campaign against the dark forces of Illavarti.”