KRISHNA CORIOLIS#3: Flute of Vrindavan

by Ashok K. Banker

But she wondered who had really learned a lesson: the son or the mother?

  4

  “I am pleased with you,’ Jarasandha said. His voice echoed in the enclosed confines of the stone chamber.

  Kamsa felt himself flush with pleasure at the compliment. It took an effort to keep from showing his father-in-law how much he enjoyed being praised by him. It was rare to be complimented by the God Emperor. Even rarer to receive such a compliment unsolicited. Kamsa wondered what he had done to deserve this particular kudos but held his tongue and waited to hear what Jarasandha said next.

  The Magadhan reached the bottom of the stone stairwell and vanished for an instant. Kamsa was close behind him, but by the time he reached the bottom of the stairwell, he found himself unable to see where Jarasandha had gone. He felt a moment of unease: the God Emperor was better known for slaughtering people, even his own, rather than complimenting him. Perhaps the kudos had merely been intended to throw Kamsa off his guard. Then he glimpsed a flicker of light from a corner and saw that there was a slanted passageway there. It was virtually impossible to detect unless it was lit from within as it was now. Kamsa had to bend over to pass through and even then he felt the claustrophobia of his environs press in upon him.

  They were deep within the subterranean chambers of Jarasandha’s new city, the resplendent Magadha that Kamsa had seen taking shape a decade ago. They had ridden here half a fortnight ago, and Jarasandha had treated Kamsa as an equal and a friend all through the trip, introducing him to several of his commanders and kings en route, referring to him with evident pride as his son-in-law. All concerned had treated Kamsa with such deference he had felt an unexpected surge of satisfaction. Even Ugrasena could not have had so many kings bowing to him during his long reign. That in itself gave him a great sense of satisfaction.

  He remembered his father again now as he followed Jarasandha through a long winding low-ceilinged passageway to finally emerge into a large stone chamber. Jarasandha dipped the head of the torch into a little channel that ran around the wall of the chamber and at once, the liquid in the channel took flame. The fire travelled around the wall and higher still, illuminating the chamber. Kamsa saw that a network of artfully concealed channels had been cut into the stone for the fluid to flow freely. The liquid itself took fire but burned slowly, providing more than sufficient light to see by yet giving out no smoke or discernible odor. He guessed that was important in an underground chamber where one could easily suffocate with too many lit torches blazing at once and insufficient ventilation.

  He marveled at the architecture of the chamber. It was artfully designed and executed, cut entirely from stone. Yet he could not fathom the purpose of such a chamber. It was clearly no underground dungeon or place of confinement. What purpose did it serve then?

  Jarasandha smiled at him. ‘You are wondering at the function of this place?’

  Kamsa nodded. It was a reasonable question.

  Jarasandha pointed at the far wall of the chamber. ‘Observe.’

  The Magadhan began chanting shlokas in the rapid-fire self-absorbed tone that Kamsa had heard brahmins intone so often before. But the language he used was not Sanskrit. Nor was he reciting any type of shlokas that Kamsa had ever heard before. The very language and form of pronunciation was alien, foreign, unfamiliar to his ears.

  He was startled when the far wall of the chamber burst into flame. It was as if the same fluid that ran in the recessed channels had been splashed in great quantity upon the blank stone wall and had caught fire. The very wall itself seemed to blaze with a brilliant searing green light.

  Kamsa covered his eyes from the suddenly blinding light. ‘What--?’ he began.

  ‘That is a Vortal,’ Jarasandha said. ‘The mantras I recited are the key to opening and closing it but there are other means by which it can be accessed. Some involve the use of devices such as you cannot imagine. But these things do not concern you. All you need be concerned with is the fact that such a thing as a Vortal exists and that it can be used at will.’

  Kamsa stared at the blazing wall of green flame. ‘I don’t understand, father,’ he said. He had taken to calling Jarasandha father these past few days - at Jarasandha’s own request. It seemed to roll naturally off his tongue. ‘What is this thing, this...Vortal?’

  Jarasandha explained it to him.

  Kamsa goggled.

  ‘A portal for traveling from our world to other similar worlds?’

  ‘Yes,’ Jarasandha said, ‘Worlds that are variations on our own world. Infinite worlds, infinite variations.’

  Kamsa shook his head. ‘Forgive me, father. I do not understand.’

  Jarasandha chuckled softly. ‘I should have expected that. Yes, I do understand and it does not matter one whit. The beauty of the Vortals is that you do not need to understand them in order to use them. You only need know how to use them. And that is something I can show you easily enough.’

  He stepped towards the wall of green fire. Flames flickered and rolled and crackled upon the stone wall, emitting the most peculiar mossy green luminescence Kamsa had ever seen. ‘Come,’ Jarasandha said, ‘let us pass through. What I have to show you can only be understood after you go through the Vortal.’

  Kamsa swallowed. He could face warriors twice his size, take on armies, battle enemies by the dozen. But this... this was... ‘Sorcery,’ he blurted, unintentionally speaking the world aloud.

  ‘Perhaps,’ Jarasandha said calmly, ‘for what else is sorcery but a highly advanced form of science whose rules we have yet to learn. But even if it is sorcery, it is of a form that can be used to our advantage.’

  ‘Must I...’ Kamsa asked, then paused, swallowing thickly. ‘Must I pass through it?’

  ‘Yes,’ Jarasandha said casually. ‘Because if you do not, I shall tear you limb from limb right here and now and eat your vitals. Have I made myself clear enough?’

  Kamsa forgot his terror of the strange green wall of fire and turned his attention to his father in law. He saw that Jarasandha meant every word: he would literally tear Kamsa to pieces and eat his organs, probably while Kamsa was still alive enough to feel the excruciating agony. Kamsa’s newfound body density made it impossible for almost any other human being, including the formidable Crooked Jaw, to so much as squeeze his tendons let alone break his bones or cause real harm, and it was possible that if he fought Jarasandha one on one he might win...But then again, he might not. And he was not sure he wanted to risk it.

  Suddenly, he didn’t feel too afraid of the green wall of fire. Whatever it may look like, it probably wouldn’t burn him. After all, Jarasandha meant to go through it as well and he would hardly condone burning off his own skin or flesh. Besides, Kamsa had no reason to think his father-in-law meant him bodily harm - not unless he refused to obey his orders.

  ‘I shall do as you say, sire,’ he replied and stepped towards the Vortal.

  ‘Follow me,’ Jarasandha said quietly to him as he reached out with one hand, touching the green wall of flame. Kamsa watched in amazement as Jarasandha’s hand passed through and through the flames and disappeared from view. ‘And we shall ensure the destruction of the Slayer and his entire clan very shortly.’

  Then Jarasandha stepped through the green wall of fire and passed from sight.

  Without giving himself time to think or question what he was doing, Kamsa followed him.

  5

  Kamsa cried out in alarm.

  He was surrounded by dense rock. Buried deep within the earth. From the look of it, the rock and soil here had not been disturbed in millennia and lay exactly as formed through eons of accumulation.

  ‘We are buried!’ he cried.

  Jarasandha turned back to him and laughed. ‘Do not fret. You will come to no harm here. In fact, you are not truly here at all, merely a wraith, a wisp of yourself. We are both no more than ghosts in this realm, for this is the plane of Narada.’

  Kamsa forgot his shock and bewilderment and looked up. ‘Narada? Narada-muni?’
>
  ‘Yes. Look at me,’ Jarasandha said. He held up his hand. Kamsa saw that Jarasandha’s entire body had acquired a rim of fiery greenish flame, as if it had caught fire from the wall of green fire through which they had passed. The Vortal, as Jarasandha had called it. Jarasandha’s upheld hand sizzled with this same eerie flame, flickering even in the webbing between his fingers. ‘Now look at yourself.’

  Kamsa looked. His body too was ringed with the same greenish fire.

  Jarasandha waved a hand at the nearest rock. His hand passed right through the rock without any effort, and seemed quite unharmed. ‘You see?’ he continued demonstrating by punching harder, then moving his entire body forward to show how easily he could pass through the solid bedrock of this subterranean plane. ‘Like ghosts!’

  Kamsa followed him hurriedly, not wishing to lose sight of his father in law. He wondered what would happen if he were stranded here in this plane alone. He had no wish to learn the answer.

  Jarasandha moved freely through the underground, traveling in a slightly upward gradient now. Kamsa did the same, his stomach still feeling queasy as he passed through entire layers of earth and stone and even underground water. He thought he felt colder here in this place and when he passed through the pooled underground water, he was certain he felt a faint sensation of...wetness? damp? But Jarasandha was right. He could not actually feel things as usual. It was more his mind telling his body that it ought to be feeling such things.

  ‘Our actual physical bodies lie back there in the underground chamber. That is why I keep the Vortal chamber out of view so my body can be safe when I travel to other realms. You already saw how securely I locked the numerous doors and gates to the subterranean chamber. No harm will come to our physical forms while we travel. And no harm can come to us here. Because, you see my son, we are not actually here. Only our consciousness extends into this realm of Narada. We are probing this place only with our minds.’

  Kamsa understood the words Jarasandha was speaking but not their entire meaning. He made out that they were safe, they were locked in, they were traveling, and they were not actually here, just mentally. He agreed whole-heartedly. Anyone who attempted such things would have to be mental!

  Jarasandha continued explaining things as they went forward. He was still talking when he suddenly vanished. Kamsa had another moment of heart-stopping shock when he thought his father in law had abandoned him here in this hellish realm forever. All manner of thoughts passed through his mind, mostly related to karma and wicked deeds and the likelihood of hell for one such as himself. Then he emerged from the stone-bounded darkness of the underworld into the open air beneath the open sky and clouds and sun, and saw Jarasandha only a short distance away. His heart flooded with relief.

  ‘You must see this,’ Jarasandha said. ‘But be very quiet and as still as possible. So long as we do not agitate the ether we are invisible but if we move or speak or feel violent emotions he will sense us. That would not be good. In this plane of existence, he is as a god. After all, this is his realm, created by himself for his purposes.’

  Who was he talking about, Kamsa wondered. Then he looked over Jarasandha’s shoulder and saw for himself.

  Narada-muni! In the flesh!

  Kamsa started forward, anger rising. ‘You lied to me! You--’

  A hand as strong as an iron vise caught hold of his neck. Not only his voice, his breath was choked off abruptly. He felt his windpipe being crushed. So powerful was Jarasandha’s grip, he had only to squeeze a little harder and Kamsa’s neck would snap. Kamsa was shocked out of his wits. It had been a while since anyone had been able to lay hands on him in this fashion. His unique ability had made him believe he was invulnerable. And he was invulnerable to all intents and purposes. But clearly Jarasandha was far, far more powerful than he. The single-handed grip the Magadhan exerted on Kamsa’s throat was more powerful than anything Kamsa had experienced before. He realized for the first time in over a decade that he was not beyond the reach of mortality after all. It was a revelation.

  The face of his father in law was bestial, animalistic in in its intensity. The eyes flickered shut and open repeatedly with their nictitating eyelids flashing sideways to reveal serpentine eyes. The forked tongue flickered between those thin lips. And the skin itself appeared mottled and cracked and veined like snakeskin that had aged a millennium or two. ‘I. Said. Be. Quiet. Be. Still.’

  Kamsa’s eyes bulged as the life faded from his body. He felt his vision blurring then turning dark. He realized he was dying. It was an extraordinary sensation. He had not realized he could die after all. Evidently, it was possible.

  Slowly, by degrees, vision returned, breath returned, and with them came life. He felt himself set down again and then released. He fell forward, gasping and choking but suddenly very conscious of his own actions and careful not to make any noise. He recovered quickly. His body healed instantly, if it had been harmed at all.

  He looked up at Jarasandha who glanced down at him scornfully. ‘I am sorry, father. I did not mean...’

  Jarasandha gestured dismissively. ‘No apologies. You cannot suffer harm in this place, nor die as you might have assumed. But you can feel and suffer. Remember that the next time you disobey me.’

  Kamsa got to his feet. ‘I saw the brahmin and lost my head.’

  Jarasandha nodded. ‘I have the same reaction when I see a brahmin, any brahmin. But you must learn to control it. We shall kill many brahmins in time, you and I. That is one of the reasons we were given this rebirth. But there are other tasks equally important. This trip is to ensure that that larger mission is fulfilled successfully. Do you understand?’

  Kamsa nodded.

  Jarasandha looked at him for a long moment. The Magadhan’s face and appearance was as before, his snake like inner nature concealed beneath the mortal garb once more. But it lurked thinly beneath the surface, able to lunge out at any instant. Kamsa berated himself for forgetting that, even for a moment.

  ‘Very well, then,’ Jarasandha said at last. ‘Let us continue. Our task here is simply to observe, nothing more. We must not attract the attention of the one who created this plane or he will unleash more grief upon us both than even I could unleash upon you. Do you follow, Kamsa?’

  Kamsa nodded vigorously.

  ‘In this plane, he is supreme. For it is not a real realm or plane of existence in the usual sense. It is merely a Vortal between worlds. And Narada is a master of Vortals. As a messenger to the devas, he needs to pass quickly from one plane to another, one time to another, one part of space to the other and this is the quickest way. He has created this plane from the amalgam of effluents of all his trips, and uses it to observe various events and to plan his next move. The reason why you were about to lunge at him was because you felt he had betrayed you, am I right? You felt he had forewarned you about the Slayer’s impending birth so that you could prevent the Slayer from being born or kill him at birth itself, isn’t that so? And when you realized that the Slayer survived after all and is still alive and growing up safely somewhere, and will someday come to challenge and attempt to kill you, you felt that Narada had lied to you. That is what you meant when you started to lunge at him, is it not?’

  Kamsa stared at his father in law in amazement. ‘Exactly! But how--?’

  ‘I have known since the beginning, Kamsa,’ Jarasandha said quietly. ‘But had I told you of events that were to happen in years ahead, you would have either dismissed my cautions or suspected my motives.’ He shot Kamsa a shrewd glance. ‘As you suspect them even now. For that is how a conqueror thinks - suspect everyone, trust no one. But do not fret. I would expect nothing less of you. After all, I taught you that outlook. Trust no one, not even me. In life as in death you are alone. It is the only way to triumph over the world. But as for Narada,’ Jarasandha glanced in the other direction, ‘he is only one player in a much larger game of gods and kings. He told you of the prophecy not to help you but to serve his own ends. It was your folly that
you assumed he was acting in your interests and advising you. In fact, he intended the exact opposite. He was steering you towards your own destruction!’

  Kamsa stared. ‘But...he told me about the Slayer!’

  ‘Yes, and what good did it do you? Did he tell you where and when and how the Eighth Child would be born? Did he tell you how He could be killed? Narada does know these things, yet he never shared such information with you.’

  Kamsa’s mind boggled with the implications. ‘But he told me to seek you out! We would never have met if it were not for him.’

  Jarasandha chuckled and shook his head. ‘My envoy was already on the way to Mathura to request you to come to Magadha. My alliance with you was a foregone conclusion. All Narada did was insert himself into your life at an opportune time in order to give you the illusion that he was helping you.’

  Kamsa frowned. Then grew angry again. His fists clenched and he raised them to pound the earth before remembering that it would be futile in this plane. He let his hands fall to his sides again, and they fell uselessly through the grass on which he sat.