Agniputr

by Vadhan

  The inspector nodded smartly and motioned with his baton for Raghu to follow him.

  A frustrated Raghu turned to Sheila. ‘You came asking for my help, Sheila, and I obliged. This is what I get in return? Do you know why I don’t take women seriously? Because they are just-not-worth-the-trouble.’

  He did not wait for a reply, choosing to simply stride out with the inspector and, weak as he was, Poti slid out of his bed and followed Raghu.

  Sheila wiped fresh tears that filled the caverns of her eyes.

  CHAPTER 26

  TWENTY-FIVE thousand feet above sea level, Govind was thrilled. The private jet, glowing like a gem in the morning sun, personified the Home Minister’s buoyant mood. Govind had not expected things to turn around his way as quickly as they did. Not that he was in any way aggrieved by it, far from it, he thanked all his lucky stars, known and unknown, irrespective of their position vis-á-vis his on Earth.

  Astrology, which relied on the position of the stars to determine his future, was something he strongly believed in private life, though he had no comments about the accuracy of the incomplete science in public life.

  He had not expected Raghuram Surya to be in his grasp, literally, in just a matter of hours after he had left for Delhi; and how! The lawyer had practically confined himself into a position from which Govind could not extract him, even had he wanted to. The enemy had shot himself in the leg. He tried to take on a God and had failed miserably.

  As a result, a junior scientist died, another nerd was severely wounded and most important of them all, Sheila, sweet Sheila, so important in the scheme of things, had turned against Surya. Only one thing remained to be done, which was to get the order of injunction vacated by the blighted court. It was now only a matter of form, a mere process that needed to be complied with. He marvelled at the power of the talisman resting on his forearm in addition to thanking his lucky stars.

  The Home Minister did not show the slightest sign of excitement which was something the other man in the plane, himself used to tremendous self-control, marvelled at in a lesser mortal. The tantrik was excited and uncomfortable. Excited because he now knew for sure that the God of Agony was active and in the same place it was supposed to have manifested, sixty years ago.

  He recalled the sequence of events that led to the birth of the Sutram. It was a lucky break. He was a younger man then. There had been something human still left in him. He travelled to all parts of the country to practice his black arts, especially for a price. Most times it was for money. Sometimes for something that would make him more than just human.

  Rajah Raghuram Surya, the handsome first son of the zamindar was a man everyone loved. He was the heir apparent to rule two thousand villages. Apparently, ladies loved him more than men. He had many concubines. One of them aspired to become his wife. Given her station in life and the times she lived in, it was an aspiration in vain.

  The Rajah married into a rich influential family from what was then called the Presidency town of Madras. He brought home a beautiful and strong woman as his wife. Enamoured by his wife, he gave up on all his mistresses. The concubine was more than just unhappy with his actions. Neither had he married her nor was he interested in her charms anymore. What was more, within a year of the marriage the wife bore him a male child.

  The concubine wanted him punished. She wanted his wife to suffer as she was suffering. She wanted him dead. She bid her time knowing that no one in Gudem or in the villages in that area would dare to harm Rajah Raghuram. It had to be an outsider.

  The tantrik was passing through Gudem eight years later. It was pure happenstance. A friend of a friend introduced him to the concubine for his pleasure. She saw a means of seeking revenge on the man who wronged her, whereas the tantrik found a way to become more than human. Also, he had his way with the woman for several nights, absolutely free of charge, before he conceded to her request.

  The tantrik’s plan was very simple. He had to feed the Rajah something with an ingredient planted in it. A blackened fingernail! A very special fingernail. The heir apparent would die a very painful death. Once dead, they had to extract a ball of hair that would have grown in his stomach. It functioned as an egg. Once it ‘hatched’, a God of Agony would be born. A thing made of the tantrik’s own thought. His dream. His ‘Sutram’. It would scorch the Earth at his bidding. He would become a God, for he could control a God.

  It was difficult for the tantrik to gain the confidence of people. His appearance and hygiene were horrific back in the day. Thus he set his novice disciple on the job. The disciple befriended Rajah Raghuram’s brother, a man consumed by insecurity and his own inadequacy. Bharatram would do anything to impress his suave brother whom he adored. Handing over a laddu to him with the suggestion that it was blessed by a seer was easy. Bharatram passed on the sweet meat to his brother. Rajah Raghuram loved his brother and had no reason to mistrust him. He ate the laddu without demure. The whole thing from start to finish was over in less than six months.

  The rest was history.

  He had assumed that the seed he had sown all those years ago had died a premature death when in fact it had turned into a bumper crop. Now, it was harvesting time. His power would be limitless.

  His anticipation had aroused him enough to create a slight bulge in his loin cloth.

  The tantrik was in discomfort because he was burdened with a shirt and trousers. He felt naked without his locks of hair which had been shaved clean. After many weeks in the wilderness, he had been scrubbed and bathed. The man could not fairly recognise himself when presented before a full length mirror.

  He slipped into the aircraft’s toilet and examined himself again in the mirror. He figured he was not all that bad looking except for the blackened teeth, caused by body acids that spilled into his mouth when he had eaten raw scorpions and frogs. Of course he did not know that the mind plays a trick on people when they examine themselves in a mirror. They appear five times more attractive than they really are.

  While the tantrik was busy admiring his countenance, Govind opened a file that needed his attention, a contract for electronic sensors. Pursuant to the policy of the government to indigenise defence items, several local aspirants had put up lofty proposals for tie ups with multi-national defence goods companies. For the armed forces, the necessary action was taken by the Defence Department. However, the threat of terrorism loomed large and the police force had to be equipped. As Minister of Home Affairs, it was his responsibility to take necessary decisions. He made a short note in the file, dropped it into a wooden box and opened another.

  The distance from Delhi to Ganavaram was covered in three hours by the jet. Govind was received by Kasi Prasad Rao, an affluent industrialist who insisted on holding his hand all the way from the runaway to the waiting BMW. The tantrik was in the Home Minister’s motorcade, but in a different car. It did not make sense to be in the same car. For one, what Govind had to say to the industrialist was private and more importantly, if the tantrik was, by some quirk of fate, recognised, it would showcase the Minister in poor light.

  The industrialist had personally flown down from Hyderabad to drive the Home Minister to his government guest house in Javaaram. It was a good chance to borrow his ear. Three hours later the car rolled into the guest house.

  Govind rushed straight into Sheila’s quarters where she was convalescing. Asking the rest of his retinue to wait outside her room, he hurried to her bedside and waved away her gesture to rise.

  ‘Miss Sheila, I am so sorry about all this. I should have taken more precautions,’ he said, with such sincerity that Sheila almost believed him.

  ‘That’s all right sir, I ought to have told you my plans,’ she countered.

  ‘That, young lady, you should have. Nothing lost anyway, nothing that can’t be put right, thank God. I hope the good Mr. Surya is well. We don’t want anything to happen to him. After all, we have no cause for enmity with him.’

  She was non-committed when she nodd
ed, ‘I am sure he is fine.’

  ‘Yes. I think he acted rather heroically by saving Priyanka. I am so concerned they had to arrest him. I will look into the matter as soon as I can. How is Priyanka by the way, what do the doctors say?’

  ‘Doctors say she’ll recover...eventually. She needs extensive plastic surgery. As far as her mental condition is concerned, right now, she doesn’t recall even her name.’

  ‘A pity. I am told she had shown great promise. And the young man, Vidush. I am so sorry about his untimely death. It is very sad when someone so young and so full of promise dies so violently. It breaks my heart,’ the Minister said.

  Sheila nodded, tears running down her eyes as Vidush’s smiling face flashed in her mind. Her carefree but timid colleague did not deserve the death he got.

  Govind marvelled at the God’s power, which, by the way, was soon to be his. He could taste victory. It was just within his grasp. All he had to do was grab it firmly. He also knew he had to be extremely careful. Govind knew he had the lawyer where he wanted him and the best way forward would be to make him hand over possession of the memorial hall in return for his freedom.

  ‘You must tell me about the entity, but not now, I need you to be fit and ready for what we have in mind,’ he said absently.

  Sheila nodded obediently. In her head, alarm bells started to ring all around. Priyanka was in a coma-state, Ramdas was dead or missing, Poti and Raghu would never open their mouths and she hadn’t mentioned anything about the horror inside the hall.

  How then did the Home Minister know about the ‘entity’?

  Unless...the stranger with the swords had told Kiromal about the entity. Who was he anyway? Where did he disappear to?

  ‘You must be tired now. I’ll speak to you tomorrow. Please ask for anything that you might need,’ Govind offered.

  ‘I will sir, thanks for coming back and thanks for all that you’ve done.’

  Govind waved his hand magnanimously and strode out of the room purposefully. Sheila knew that Govind would pounce on Raghu and there was no way he could step out of jail without Kiromal’s approval. She knew they had not parted on the friendliest of terms, still, Sheila hoped Raghu understood her motives. In any event, it was time to call, time to consolidate and plan the next course of action. She knew they did not have too much time before things started heating up. She picked up her phone and dialled Poti’s mobile phone.

  ‘How is he?’ she asked when she heard Poti’s smooth voice.

  ‘He’s fine Amma Garu. Do you want to speak to him?’

  Sheila was perplexed. ‘You’re with him?’

  ‘Where else would I be Amma Garu?’

  ‘Why do you call me that?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Amma...Garu!’

  ‘It’s a mark of respect in these parts. So do you want to speak to him?’

  ‘Yes please.’

  Presently, his rich deep voice came online. It sent a thrill down her spine, like it had done the first time.

  ‘I am sorry. I think I came on pretty strong. I shouldn’t have said the things I did,’ Raghu said gravely.

  ‘Did you mean them?’ she asked softly.

  ‘Not a word, you know that.’

  ‘Then where’s the need to apologise?’ she asked. ‘It fooled Kant though. But for a moment I thought you meant all of it, that’s something I couldn’t bear,’ she said.

  ‘Why?’

  Sheila smiled softly, ‘Don’t you know why?’

  ‘Do I?’ Raghu asked wistfully.

  ‘Yes you do. Listen up. Govind Kiromal is here and he definitely won’t let you out of prison until you withdraw the case and agree to his terms. What are you going to do?’

  ‘Hmm...in that case someone has to bail me out.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘A few influential villagers and an entire bunch of lawyers,’ Raghu observed.

  ‘Can you manage that?’ she asked, ‘you have to do it quickly.’

  ‘How quickly?’

  ‘Right away.’

  ‘What about three hours after my detention, day before yesterday?’

  ‘What? How did you manage that?’

  ‘Suffice it is to say that the inspector of police did not salute to Kant that day. All he needed was a reason to let me go. There’s no FIR, no chargesheet. In the United States its called street justice, an innocent man freed without engaging the slow machinery of law. Funnily, in India there’s no name for it except to say it’s the discretionary power of the police. Anyway, I am no murderer, just a man in love. Still, it leaves a big question about due process unanswered.’

  She remained quiet for a while then she said, ‘Are you sure?’

  Raghu sighed. ‘I have never in my entire life been sure of anything more than the fact that I love you, Sheila Pitambar.’

  ‘I don’t want to be left alone again, Raghu. I can’t take that.’

  ‘Leave you alone? You’ll be pleading to be left alone after a month with me. I swear, five children in the first three years, the only concession is, you are permitted to have twins.’

  ‘You wish,’ she laughed and then in a serious tone, ‘Ok, so now you’re out, it’s hardly over. Is there a possibility that you can be arrested again?’

  Raghu shrugged in Gudem. ‘Sure, the State can start by registering an FIR and formally arresting me. I can handle that, what does worry me is how do we get married in between all of this?’

  ‘Why worry? I mean...shut up. Raghu, I am being serious here.’

  He laughed, she loved the sound of his laughter; it made her want to laugh too. For all his brooding personality, Sheila began to recognise the inherent sense of whacky humour in the man.

  Raghu said, ‘Ok...what I meant was, how are we going to destroy that thing in the hall? Except for the fact that he keeps saving me at regular intervals, I don’t even know who Mr. P. Eshwar is or for that matter, what his angle in the whole affair is. For all you know, he could be worse than the Home Minister. Plus, we are just as ignorant as we were about the Agniputr.’

  Sheila was silent for a time. ‘Eshwar is an unknown, you realise that of course,’ she said. ‘He could well be playing both sides.’

  ‘To what end?’

  ‘I haven’t a clue. I don’t particularly care for people who appear to save the day. I’d like to know what his agenda is, in all this.’

  ‘Well, let’s not ponder about the imponderable. It’s a waste of time,’ Raghu said. ‘I am going to write down what we know till now. Maybe that will give us some idea on what to do next.’

  ‘Right.’

  1.‘There are things lurking around in my family memorial hall that don’t quite belong there. Eshwar called one the ‘Sutram’ and the other as ‘Sable Parch’.

  2.My father tried unsuccessfully to destroy the Sutram forty-two years ago. I’ve no clue how he tackled it or if he was able to tackle the Sable Parch. He died trying.’

  Sheila interceded by saying, ‘Rathaya said, that they were done in by treachery.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘That’s what he said.’

  ‘Good God. I didn’t know that. We have to get to the bottom of this.’

  ‘We will. But for now, complete your list.’

  Raghu continued.

  3.‘Eshwar claims to be a good friend of my father.

  4.My father was in the process of using the Agniputr, whatever that is, to destroy the Sutram.

  5.The only person, other than Eshwar, who knew about what really happened in the hall was Rathaya, he is dead.

  6.Rathaya left a clue, ‘the one syllable that won speech’. It’s supposed to be a victory incantation from a scripture called the Black Yajurveda. The village priest told us that. He did not know what the one syllable was though. Somehow, this sentence is centrifugal to everything or Rathaya wouldn’t have written it as his last will and testament.

  7.What do we understand from all of this?’

  Sheila had filed the information as a se
ries of steps in her mind. She had already formed a conclusion by the time Raghuram had concluded his list.

  ‘We need to go back to move forward. By that I mean, we have to retrace your father’s footsteps. Also, we need to do some research in mythology to find out what the so-called ‘centrifugal’ sentence means. That is easily possible because it’s in the public domain.’

  ‘That’s what I thought! But then, where do we start the search?’ Raghu asked.

  ‘Well, I don’t know, but we physicists always have earlier research to rely on. From Aristotle to Stephen Hawking, we have a series of findings that we work with. These can be obscure notations in a diary or completed thesis available in the public or sometimes even private domain. We then attempt to expand the theories and add our two bits to it for posterity.’

  Raghu said, ‘All Surya literature, from accounts to diaries of our lore and an entire library is in the archives. It was started about three hundred years ago by an ancestor of mine who apparently had loads of time on his hands and has been dutifully carried forward ever since. Apparently, my father used it extensively. That’s one of the things my grandmother sai...’ Raghu was breathless for a moment. It struck him at that precise moment that his grandmother had not told him stories when he was a child. No. She had presented him with clues. She had known or at least guessed what her son had been trying to do. A mother knows.

  ‘I am such an idiot,’ he exclaimed all of a sudden.

  Sheila sat up in bed, ‘What is it Raghu?’

  ‘My grandmother told me many stories about my grandfather, Sheila. She told me stories of hunts, wild beasts and fights with rogues and thieves; apparently, my grandfather was the local Zorro sans the mask. The only story she ever told me about my father was how he fought the demons in the dungeons. In that story, she always mentioned that my father studied and learnt about the demon from the books in the Archives.’

  ‘That’s it, she left you a clue.’

  ‘Well she could well have told me to go look for my father’s work in the archives. Why the cloak and dagger stuff?’