Son of Bhrigu

by CHRISTOPHER C. DOYLE

  Virendra observed Arjun gaping and sidled up to him. ‘It’s breathtaking, isn’t it? Arjun, be sure to pay your respects to the king. Also, remember, no questions. I’ll answer any questions you have afterwards.’

  Arjun nodded, still dumbfounded by the splendour of the hall. So the building was probably a palace where the king resided. He realized that this was some sort of durbar , a hall where the king met his subjects.

  He looked straight ahead and, sure enough, sitting on a raised platform at the far end, on a gilded throne, studded with the biggest jewels he had ever seen in his life was a man, who had to be the king. Sitting in front of the grand figure of the king were the musicians, responsible for the mesmerizing melody that filled not just the hall but the entire building. Arjun figured that the music was resonating and amplifying through some architectural device.

  As the group approached, the king held up his hand and the music abruptly ceased. He rose and descended from his throne and walked slowly towards them.

  The king was a tall man, his youthful good looks belying his true age. His long dark hair flowed to his shoulders and his well-muscled physique was apparent even through the golden tunic he wore.

  Virendra and Pramila bowed as they came up to the king. Arjun hesitated for a second, unsure, and then followed suit.

  The king smiled. ‘Welcome back, Kanakpratap,’ he addressed Virendra, then turned to Pramila, ‘and Yajnaseni.’ He looked at Arjun. ‘Your nephew?’

  Arjun looked at his uncle, confused. Kanakpratap ? This was the second time today he had heard his uncle being addressed in this manner.

  Virendra nodded. ‘It is always a pleasure to be among the Gandharvas, O Visvavasu,’ he replied. ‘This is my nephew, Arjun. Rudrapratap’s son.’

  ‘Welcome, Arjun,’ Visvavasu smiled at him. He turned back to Virendra. ‘Come, let us go into the private chamber. There is much to discuss.’

  Visvavasu waved his hand and the musicians launched into their performance once more. Beautiful strains of the sitar filled the air as the king led the group towards a door set in the wall behind the throne.

  Arjun guessed that there was a second, smaller, hall beyond that door—a room which not everyone was permitted to enter. His curiosity, and excitement, was increasing by leaps and bounds. His mother and uncle actually knew the Gandharva king? And what were they being ushered in to discuss? Would he finally get some answers, as Virendra had promised, or would there be even more mysteries?

  Chapter Twenty-five

  New Mysteries for Kapoor

  SP Kapoor’s residence

  New Delhi

  ‘What do you mean they disappeared?’ SP Kapoor demanded. ‘How can three human beings physically vanish?’

  Harish had finally called SP Kapoor from Panna, with the disconcerting news. For a while, he had resisted, knowing there was no explanation for the report he was going to make and hoping that Virendra and his family would somehow show up. Finally, though, his sense of duty prevailed and he decided to face Kapoor’s wrath rather than delay information.

  ‘Are you sure you didn’t slip up? This had better not be a cover up!’ Kapoor thundered on.

  Harish patiently listened to his boss vent his anger. He had expected Kapoor to be angry. Only, he thought, there was no way Kapoor’s frustration could match his own. After following his quarry across half of North India and not letting them out of his sight for a moment, to have them disappear without a trace was the worst possible end to the cross country pursuit he had just been engaged in. He knew his boss well. Soon, he would stop raging and cool down.

  True enough, Kapoor’s fury was soon spent and, as logic took over, he realized that he was unjustly giving Harish a dressing down. He knew his man well. Come what may Harish would not have abandoned his duty.

  But nothing — absolutely nothing — could explain what Harish was telling him. There had to be a rational explanation for this.

  ‘Perhaps they disappeared into the forest,’ Kapoor suggested, clutching at straws. ‘Or they took a shortcut and went back to the road.’

  Harish doggedly stuck to his story. ‘No, sir. After I lost sight of them, I searched the forest around for a while. They weren’t there. When I went back up, there was no one around, just the Land Cruiser, standing where it had been left. If they had indeed gone back, why would they leave the Land Cruiser there, with all their bags? For one they would need their car — public transport is hard to come by in these parts. And then, even if they did find some way to get away, they would surely take their bags!’

  Kapoor had to agree with Harish’s logic. But he still couldn’t accept what seemed to have happened.

  ‘Stay there,’ he instructed. ‘Don’t move. Wait. If their bags are still in the car, they will be back.’ He disconnected the call.

  Almost immediately, his phone rang again.

  It was Suresh, the forensic scientist who had visited the Upadhyay house on the previous evening.

  ‘Sorry to disturb you early in the morning.’

  ‘I hope you have a good reason to call so early.’ Kapoor was still smarting at having lost his only lead in this case.

  ‘I got the autopsy and forensic examinations expedited as you had requested,’ Suresh responded, ‘and I thought you would want to know what we’ve found.’

  ‘Answers?’

  ‘Well, not exactly,’ Suresh admitted, ‘but definitely more than we had last evening.’

  ‘Go on. I’m listening.’

  ‘First, the preliminary autopsy report. I had guessed correctly. There’s no evidence of any kind of sharp bladed weapon or tool being used on the victim. The tears on the muscles and ligaments of . . .’

  ‘Spare me the gore,’ Kapoor snapped. ‘Tell me the conclusion.’

  ‘Well, okay.’ Suresh sounded wounded. ‘Just thought you’d like to know on what basis we figured this out. Okay, the conclusion we reached is that the four limbs were pulled in different directions with extreme force, causing the body to rip apart.’

  Kapoor frowned. ‘It would take powerful forces to make that happen.’

  ‘Absolutely,’ Suresh agreed. ‘You know, I’ve read that, in the olden days, this was one form of execution. A man’s limbs would be tied to four horses and they would be goaded to gallop at full speed in four different directions. The victim would . . .’

  ‘Yes, yes, I get the picture,’ Kapoor stopped him impatiently. He was a police officer and violence was a part of his job. But, while he could face mobs and had no compunction in shooting at criminals — he had actually killed a couple of them in encounters — he didn’t really have the stomach for gore.

  ‘Well, okay.’ Suresh sounded disappointed. ‘Anyway, that explains why there was no murder weapon found. None was used.’

  ‘Hard to believe that one man could have accomplished that,’ Kapoor snorted. ‘We know that there was only one person there who could have killed Upadhyay — the suspect.’

  ‘My job is to analyze the facts of our findings and give you a report. I’m not the investigator on this case,’ Suresh retorted.

  ‘And you called me at this time of the morning to tell me this? A riddle to which we have no answer?’

  ‘There’s more,’ Suresh told him, indignation creeping into his voice. He felt Kapoor just wasn’t showing enough gratitude for the favour he was doing him. He had no way of knowing that the call with Harish had soured Kapoor’s mood for the day. ‘We found fingerprints that are unidentified so far.’

  ‘Ah!’ Kapoor sounded upbeat for the first time since the conversation had begun.

  ‘Well, that’s mixed news, really. The bad news is that we found two sets of fingerprints. One set was on the front gate of the house, on the latch of the gate to be specific. The other was on the handle of the front door, which is on the inside of the door.’ He paused, allowing the implication to sink in.

  Kapoor was quick to catch on. ‘So, what you’re implying is that the person who opened the gate to enter was
different from the person who opened the front door to leave the house. How is that possible?’

  ‘Exactly. I know it doesn’t make sense. But I’m just giving you the facts. We lifted prints from all over the house. The victim’s, his daughter’s plus two other sets of prints. Presumably the maid and some other friend. Of course, we can only verify that once your boys are able to find the maid and identify the “friend”.’

  ‘The facts can be easily explained. The fingerprints aren’t date or time stamped. They could be from a visitor earlier in the day. We weren’t shadowing Upadhyay then, so we wouldn’t know.’

  There was a pause. Then Suresh spoke up tentatively. ‘Ajit said in his statement that he saw the suspect open the gate.’

  ‘Correct.’

  ‘Then we should have matching fingerprints on both the gate and the door handle. But we don’t. The suspect should have left fingerprints on the gate as well. But he didn’t. How do we explain that?’

  ‘Ajit is positive that he saw only one person enter and leave the house: the suspect. Not two different people. Maybe the suspect used different hands to open the gate and the door? That could explain the difference in prints.’

  ‘No, it wouldn’t. Because that isn’t the only difference in the two sets of prints.’

  ‘What do you mean? Don’t speak in riddles.’

  ‘The size of the hands differ,’ Suresh explained. ‘The hands that made the prints on the gate are much smaller than the hands that made the prints on the door handle. They definitely belong to two different people.’

  There was silence.

  ‘Hello?’ Suresh said, uncertainly.

  ‘I’m still here,’ Kapoor replied. ‘Just thinking. Well, thanks a lot for letting me know.’

  He cut the call and ran a hand through his hair, his brow creased, as he mused over what Suresh had just told him.

  Nothing in this case seemed to make sense — people disappearing, a suspect with seemingly superhuman strength, fingerprints that couldn’t be explained. And, of course, there was still the mystery of Trivedi’s death.

  Virendra Singh’s words came back to him. Supernatural , he had said. As he considered the possibility for a split second, Kapoor shivered involuntarily. He quickly pushed the thought aside. He was not a believer in the paranormal. Neither was he superstitious.

  There had to be a rational explanation for everything. And he was going to find it.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Answers & Questions

  Visvavasu’s Private Chamber

  The Gandharva Valley

  The chamber had a long wooden table with a polished top and several chairs around it. At the head of the table was a gilded chair, now occupied by Visvavasu. The other Gandharvas — the three men and three women, including Varsha, who had greeted the newcomers from Delhi — along with Virendra, Pramila and Arjun, sat on the chairs on either side of Visvavasu.

  The king fixed Virendra, who sat on his right, with a gaze. ‘So, Kanak,’ he began. ‘Your presence here is a confirmation of what we believe to be true.’

  Arjun flinched as Visvavasu addressed Virendra as ‘Kanak’ but, remembering his uncle’s whispered words of warning, he checked himself.

  But Visvavasu had already noticed Arjun’s reaction, though he didn’t say anything.

  Virendra nodded, as if he was accustomed to being addressed in this manner. ‘When we left Delhi, it was more as a precaution based on conjecture. It seemed to be the only logical way to explain what happened to Dhananjay. The three of us left Delhi only because we felt that, speculative or not, we could not be too careful. The best course of action was to leave. And, as we drove here we got news that confirmed our suspicion.’

  ‘Dhruv,’ Visvavasu murmured. ‘I had wondered why he had not accompanied you.’

  ‘He stayed back to check if our suspicion was correct,’ Virendra said, bitterly. ‘He said the Sangha would protect him if the search went awry. If I had had even an inkling . . .’ He shook his head and looked away.

  Arjun could see that Virendra was deeply affected. It seemed to him that his uncle was on the verge of tears. But who was Dhruv? Who were they talking about? And who was Dhananjay? The only person by that name that Arjun knew was DJ sir. But there was no way his uncle would have known him. He was confused but he kept silent. There would be enough time later to quiz Virendra and get his answers.

  ‘We had no idea that the tables would turn,’ Virendra resumed. ‘We thought that we were hunting Shukra. But, in reality, he was hunting us. Somehow, and I have no idea how, he knew what had happened in Allahabad. And he came for us. Fortunately, for the three of us — and, perhaps, for the entire world — we had left Delhi by then. But Dhruv had stayed back. I see it all now, I understand Shukra’s ploy. Dhananjay’s murder was just a smokescreen, a ruse to divert our attention. And it succeeded. While we were trying to figure out where Shukra could be hiding, he came at us. Poor Dhruv didn’t stand a chance.’

  Visvavasu shook his head, his face sombre, reflecting the pain he felt at hearing the news.

  ‘Dhruv had a daughter, did he not?’ the king asked, finally breaking the silence that had descended in a gloomy pall around the table. ‘A sadh.’

  ‘Yes,’ Virendra affirmed. ‘Her name is Maya. Dhruv somehow managed to warn her and gave her a kavach . She managed to escape from the house, with her life. It was she who called us and gave us the news.’

  Arjun started visibly at these words. The ‘Dhruv’ they had been talking about was Maya’s father? He didn’t get it. How come everyone he knew suddenly had two sets of names? He had always known Maya’s father as Naresh uncle. And what was a sadh ?

  Visvavasu’s keen eyes observed Arjun’s surprise again. ‘You haven’t told him,’ he remarked to Virendra, indicating Arjun.

  ‘No,’ Virendra shook his head. ‘Not yet.’

  Visvavasu nodded. ‘I think you were right not to.’ He paused. ‘And what about Maya?’

  ‘I asked one of the Sangha to take care of her. He will bring her to us safely. In fact they are on their way right now.’

  Maya was on her way to Panna? Arjun perked up visibly at this information. This was the best news he had heard since leaving Delhi.

  ‘So you plan to take her to the Gurukul?’ Visvavasu raised one eyebrow.

  Once again, Arjun was at a loss to understand what he meant. But it seemed that, to his uncle, the implication was clear.

  ‘Yes,’ Virendra’s voice was resolute. ‘I will. Her father has died trying to ensure that the world does not enter its darkest moment in the history of humanity. We cannot abandon her. We owe him this much. And, after all, Dhruv was a Maharishi. Let’s not forget that.’

  ‘Descent is not important, Kanak,’ Visvavasu countered. ‘Who you are, where you were born, who your father was — these are all things that matter only to sadhs . Not to the Sangha or the Gana . You know the rules as well as I do. Only the ones chosen for the Gana are allowed in the Gurukul.’ He shrugged. ‘But who am I to stop you? I don’t run the place.’

  Virendra’s expression hardened. ‘She will stay there. I will ensure that. She has nowhere else to go.’

  Arjun looked on in wonder, understanding not one word of what was being discussed. His head spun.

  ‘So, Shukra has returned,’ Visvavasu dismissed the subject of Maya and moved on. ‘Where has he been these last fourteen years? And what does he plan now? We are ill prepared to deal with him.’

  ‘True,’ Virendra agreed. ‘For a while, we thought we had seen the last of him. That we had enough time to prepare.’ He looked at the Gandharva king. ‘But there is the prophecy, you know.’

  Visvavasu’s face took on an amused expression. Clearly, he did not believe the prophecy, whatever it was.

  ‘The prophecy,’ he chuckled. ‘Let’s not waste our time trifling with verses which are so ancient now that they may no longer mean anything useful. Instead, I would advise you to prepare for war. We will support you in that. We
have no choice. The three loks are in great peril. Don’t forget, predictions are accurate only at the time that they are made. Even they can change over time, depending on the actions of the people involved. That is the law of Karma. ’

  ‘The prophecy came from the Saptarishis,’ Virendra shot back, ‘not from a minor astrologer. Predictions can certainly change if the assumptions on which they are made also change. But that hasn’t happened. Not yet.’

  The smile disappeared from Visvavasu’s face. He shook his head. ‘You put too much faith in the prophecy, Kanak. You forget that you have only part of the prophecy. Who knows what the other parts say?’

  ‘Shukra certainly believes in the prophecy,’ Virendra said, his voice gentle but firm. ‘That’s why he came to Allahabad fourteen years ago. And I do too. We have devoted our lives, sacrificed much, to enable the prophecy to come true. And it will!’ He looked straight at Visvavasu. ‘We’d better pray that it does. Nothing else is going to stop Shukra. Not you, not I, not the Sangha . Not even the Devas or the Saptarishis. And you know that better than I do.’

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Shukra Reflects

  Unknown location

  India

  Shukra sat in the cavern, lost in thought. He had stumbled upon this hideaway 5,000 years ago, after his confrontation with the Saptarishis. Defeated, and humiliated, he had fled their presence, searching for a refuge. And he had found it here. A chance discovery of the narrow gorge that led to the source of the river that carved out the gorge, had turned out to be providential. It had led him to the cave in the side of the mountains overlooking the gorge.

  Something about the cave had struck him as being strangely familiar. He had explored it thoroughly, finally unearthing the narrow crevice at its rear that led through a steep upward sloping passage into this natural cavern hollowed out within the mountainside.