The Sage's Secret

by Abhinav Menon

  Maya smiled, then looked at Krishna with some questions on his mind. He was trying to figure out where this was headed.

  Krishna continued. ‘Like I said, you are destined for greater things. By building this beautiful piece of architecture, you have earned my confidence and trust.’

  Maya beamed with pride, his stained teeth showing themselves in full glory.

  Krishna moved closer to the asura and lowered his voice to a whisper. ‘I have two jobs for you, Maya—jobs that beg your expertise. Are you ready?’

  Maya nodded his head vigorously.

  ‘Good! I shall tell you of the first job now, Maya. The second I shall tell you later. Is that acceptable to you?’

  Maya murmured his assent eagerly.

  ‘Your first job is to build a small chamber under the flowing waters of a river.’

  Maya’s eyes widened. Krishna smiled and went on to explain his requirements.

  TWENTY-SIX

  Anirudh found himself in the same dream again, in the form of his previous avatar.

  Krishna was walking through the woods, his pace quick. There was no rain today, and the crescent moon shone from the sky like a tiara. It was a beautiful night. But he didn’t have the time to appreciate the moon or its silver sheen. He walked past the trees with determination. In his left hand was a string of thread to which was tied a locket—a broken conch shell. It was the lower half, also called the body whorl. Krishna hurried to the stream.

  His flute tucked in his waistband, the lord of Dwarka went up to the particular tree. Like before, he pressed the bark and, in the centre of the stream, a circular hole opened up. Krishna walked briskly to the bank and then waded to the hole. Water poured into the open mouth, giving it the effect of a waterfall.

  Taking a deep breath, Krishna jumped inside.

  The bell sounded across the college, signalling that classes were over for the day. Anirudh packed his books and left the classroom with his friends, discussing the day’s lectures and assignments.

  By and by, Anirudh was learning to manage his dual life and his time, which was spent juggling his college work, soccer, gym workouts, energy harnessing sessions and the Mahabharata, of course. He had put aside the epic for the weekends, since his weekdays were mostly filled with everything else, and he found it difficult to absorb the text amid other tasks. The energy harnessing exercise was something he did whenever he was idle, sometimes even before going to sleep. Since his college had reopened, meetings with Dweepa had become considerably few and far between, but Anirudh had requested one at the beach that day. He had something to share with Dweepa.

  The sound of the waves rushing to meet the shore always brought peace to Dweepa’s mind. With his back resting against a tree, he waited at the beach for Anirudh, relaxing in the shade and sipping coconut water. He looked at the blue of the sea touching the azure sky at the horizon. The sun’s rays shimmered on the waves. The beach was such a wonderful place to be at, even on a hot afternoon! The cool breeze coming in from the sea and the sweet coconut water expelled the heat from his body, while the shade of the tree protected him from the scorching sun and the moist sand made for a comfortable seat.

  A few minutes later, Anirudh arrived and sat next to Dweepa, who offered to buy him coconut water. Anirudh refused.

  ‘You have any idea what the circular locket is?’ he asked breathlessly.

  Dweepa shook his head. ‘There is no reference to any such circular locket ever being worn by Krishna. I had a doubt that it may be the Syamantaka jewel, but it wasn’t. Krishna never kept it. Its owner, Prasenjit, had lost it, and Krishna recovered and returned it to him. Prasenjit offered the gem to Krishna, but he refused to accept it because people had fought and spilt blood over it. So the Syamantaka definitely wasn’t the locket you were clutching.’

  Anirudh pondered for a while and then said, ‘I was trying to hide the locket. It could be at the time when the Syamantaka was in my possession …’ Anirudh corrected himself, ‘In Krishna’s possession.’

  Dweepa smiled.

  ‘So maybe my dream was about the period when the Syamantaka was with me,’ Anirudh continued. ‘After all, history does mention me having the Syamantaka jewel for some time. So isn’t there a possibility that I was indeed hiding the Syamantaka?’

  ‘Let us assume that you did hide the Syamantaka, but you must have taken it out of its hiding place because you had to return it to Prasenjit.’

  Anirudh nodded, deducing that if the locket was the Syamantaka, then it wouldn’t be present in the underwater room any longer.

  ‘We have no idea what that circular locket is, then?’

  Dweepa shook his head as Anirudh let out a sigh.

  ‘You wanted to meet me, Anirudh. Why?’

  ‘What is the significance of the broken conch-shell locket hanging from your neck?’ Anirudh cut to the chase.

  Sage Dweepa looked down at the locket and caressed it. ‘Lord Krishna had given this to my ancestor. This locket identifies that I am Dweepa. You gave it to him so that I could be recognized by you in your Kalki avatar—you know this already from a dream, right?’

  Anirudh sighed deeply. ‘Yes, and I—Krishna—kept the other half of the conch shell, but … Last night, I had a dream about a broken conch-shell locket. In the dream, I, as Krishna, was going to hide it. Just like I did with the circular locket. The hiding place was also the same. I went to the stream and made my way to the hole. That’s all I saw.’

  After Anirudh finished narrating his dream, he fell silent. Lost in thought, he asked, ‘So what do my dreams mean?’

  Dweepa, too, remained silent as he gazed at the beach, where the waves were playfully jumping over each other to reach the shore.

  ‘Anirudh, one thing is clear: you are using dreams to communicate with yourself regarding things you want to be informed about. In both dreams, the place you seem to be at—the hiding place—appears to be the same. And in both, you are hiding something. I think you are telling yourself that what you’ve hidden needs to be retrieved.’

  ‘I want to do so, but, Sage, I have no idea where I have hidden them! They’re under a stream in a forest, I suppose. But where?’

  Dweepa understood what was going through Anirudh’s anxious mind. He kept a hand on his shoulder and patted it. ‘You will come to know of the place. Just give it some time. This will come to you too.’

  Dweepa tried to divert the conversation to Anirudh’s progress—with the Mahabharata and the energy harnessing lessons. Anirudh informed the sage that now he was able to move things without even closing his eyes, but he still wasn’t able to convert energy into any other form. Dweepa reassured him that it would happen in good time. Anirudh smiled sadly, knowing full well that the sage was trying to make him feel better.

  As they were walking back from the beach, Anirudh told Dweepa about the dream he had had back in Dwarka, in which he had been playing the flute. The sage was happy to know that Anirudh was in touch with his previous avatar. He stressed that it was essential for Krishna and Kalki to share their thoughts and traits, and that even the uneventful dreams conveyed some form of truth about each other, as well as beauty.

  Anirudh found his Krishna self looking outside the window of his palatial bedroom. It was dawn. The orange sun was just peeping out over the distant horizon.

  Krishna smiled at Mother Nature, who was peacefully asleep. It was time to wake her! He brought the flute to his lips and gently blew into it. He was playing a song so soft and melodious that Mother Nature simply had to wake up and hear it. Infused with energy, her trees shuddered, her flowers fanned out their petals, her birds chirped and her cows opened their eyes. A breeze had started spreading the morning scent even though the sun hadn’t yet completely revealed itself.

  Krishna kept playing, his fingers gliding on his favourite instrument. By the time he finished, Mother Nature was wide awake. Krishna beamed on seeing her in her full glory.

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  Kalanayaka stood poised, fac
ing five Kalabakshakas who were surrounding him at a few feet’s distance. While both sides sized each other up in the centre of the hall, along its walls were seated fellow Kalabakshakas, wildly cheering on the fighters.

  They were about to watch Kalanayaka go up against the Kalabakshakas. Kalarakshasa and Kalaguru Bhairava occupied front row chairs. It was a mock battle, a test. Kalanayaka was pitted against five of the best sorcerers to see how well he would respond in real combat.

  Kalarakshasa had been observing Kalanayaka’s training for the past few sessions. During practice, he performed extremely well. But what bothered Kalarakshasa was Kalanayaka’s aggressiveness, which was fuelled by fury. His rage was what made him a good sorcerer. It was his weapon, which had led him to victory many a time in the past. But in Kalarakshasa’s view, fury was a weakness. It could be used by the enemy to their advantage.

  To the Demon of Time, combat was like a maths problem. He believed that when one was asked to add two numbers, or a set even, it didn’t mean that one needed to add them rapidly just because one knew how to. If one did so, they were bound to make mistakes. Instead of adding in haste, if one added the numbers slowly, using logical thinking, one could still reach the correct answer. Without making mistakes. The same lesson, he thought, was yet to be learnt by Kalanayaka.

  The Kalabakshakas had shown him the moves and taught him to fight well. And he had learnt impressively fast. But when he duelled, he still fought with anger. His attacks were powerful, but they were driven by his fury. If ever Kalanayaka were to fight Kalarakshasa, the latter knew he wouldn’t stand a chance for he would be up against one who knew how to manipulate the opponent’s fury to their own advantage.

  Kalarakshasa leaned back on his throne and waited. He had a clear view of the fighters. He wanted to see if the new student could maintain his calm and grace as well as deliver his attacks while building his defences at the same time.

  In the middle of the arena, Kalanayaka studied his opponents. He scrutinized their every movement and stance, as if he were reading their thoughts. This was because he knew that after a stance had been taken, the hands could move only in a certain direction. So if one paid attention to this, they could predict the nature of the attack. But he was also aware that it was possible to change the stance at the last moment and launch an unexpected offence. For this, one had to be exceptionally quick.

  Kalanayaka saw that the hands of his opponents were held out defensively in front of their chests, like the posture of a boxer. The whip attack! That’s what they were planning—their stance gave it away! The whip attack was a move by which a slash through the air could release a burst of energy or an element against the opponent. Kalanayaka knew that if all five of them performed the attack together, the battle would be over for him. So he couldn’t wait for his opponents to attack first. He was ready, which meant the battle had begun! He trained his mind to think about Kalki, the ‘god’ who was out there. God! Anger started bubbling inside him. Kalki, I want your blood …

  Kalarakshasa saw the fury rising inside Kalanayaka. He leaned forward, eager to see what the first move would be.

  Kalanayaka gritted his teeth as looked at his opponents. There was a build-up of energy in his hands, and he clenched his fists. Consciously, he let the rage within him attract his mind. He recalled his childhood.

  Guruji was right! There is indeed no God! If God were present, he would have saved me and my friends from that horrible shelter home. But that didn’t happen. The shelter owner made us beg every day, from morning to night. He beat us mercilessly. Whatever funds we received, he kept for himself. He didn’t give us any food. We had to cry ourselves to sleep, day in and day out …

  Waves of wrath rose within Kalanayaka.

  There is no God! For God never helped us … We were left at the mercy of that monstrous man! God betrayed me and my friends …

  Now something snapped inside Kalanayaka; he was at his extreme. All he saw was red—vengeance.

  In a flash, Kalanayaka launched his fists on either side, punching the air. Two opponents, hit with a burst of wind, were blasted against the walls and fell to the floor with a thud, knocked unconscious. And even before the fallen men could touch the ground, Kalanayaka quickly knelt and raised his arms, propelling the opponents to his back and front with sheer force. They were airborne before they could even launch their attack, and they crashed to the ground.

  All this occurred in a span of two or three seconds. Only one opponent remained.

  The last Kalabakshaka attacked immediately, but Kalanayaka was ready. He swept his left arm upwards, producing a shield against the energy whip that the other was using. His invisible shield absorbed the blow. Now Kalanayaka didn’t wait for his opponent to think. He placed his right palm on the ground, shifted his body weight on it, jumped and kicked the air. The Kalabakshaka shot backward and hit the wall at the end of the hall, unconscious.

  Kalanayaka got to his feet and bowed to the Kalarakshasa and the other Kalabakshakas in the room. The spectators clapped loudly as Kalanayaka looked at his fallen opponents. The thrill of victory surged through him, a feeling similar to what he had felt many years ago—after finishing his sorcery training, when Kalanayaka had tracked down the shelter home owner and killed him in a manner that would make the insides of any sane man churn. He smirked at the memory.

  Meanwhile, Kalarakshasa was smiling menacingly under his red hood. He knew Kalanayaka’s attacks were indeed very powerful. So powerful that they had knocked out five trained Kalabakshakas! And it wasn’t easy to knock out a Kalabakshaka.

  The clapping and cheering stopped abruptly. A wave of silence spread over the large hall. Turning, Kalanayaka was surprised to see Kalarakshasa jumping into the arena!

  The Demon of Time was seething as he approached. He wanted to teach his new student a lesson he would never forget: that fury wasn’t as effective as he thought, and that he wasn’t invincible. Kalarakshasa stopped a few feet away from Kalanayaka and bowed.

  ‘Duel with me.’

  Kalanayaka was stunned.

  The room became still, like every breath had been caught at that command.

  ‘It’s an order, Kalanayaka.’

  Kalarakshasa gave Kalanayaka two seconds to react, then sent a fistful of energy at him, hitting him square in the chest. It wasn’t a heavy punch, so Kalanayaka only reeled back by a few steps. The student understood it was just a warning, and that the challenge to a duel was indeed real.

  Once again, Kalanayaka invoked his fury and punched the air. Waves of energy took a circular shape before him, like that of a ball, and charged towards Kalarakshasa—who was expecting this.

  As the throbbing ball neared him, the Lord of Time simply sidestepped it gracefully. It didn’t stand a chance against Kalarakshasa. It passed by, and Kalarakshasa turned towards it, his arm outstretched. He scooped up the sphere of energy and, exerting his strength, pushed the ball back, forcing it to reverse its trajectory. Manoeuvring it, he realized something. There is tremendous energy in the ball! No wonder Kalanayaka’s wrath won against the Kalabakshakas!

  Looking up, he saw that Kalanayaka was regarding him with awe. As was every other person in the hall. But his new student snapped out of his admiration and quickly propped up a defence shield in front of him. However, the now thundering ball, so full of energy, burst right through it and hit Kalanayaka on his chest. He felt the sphere pushing his body, dragging him with it. He felt his feet leave the floor as he was hurtled through the air, and he let out a piercing scream. His flight finally broke when he crashed into a wall.

  He was crippled by pain and couldn’t move even an inch. Slowly, he slumped to the floor. Kalarakshasa didn’t look at his defeated opponent twice, and walked straight out the hall.

  Kalanayaka couldn’t believe what had just happened. His own attack against him! How did Kalarakshasa turn my weapon against me? It’s … impossible.

  Later that day, Kalanayaka was summoned by Kalarakshasa. The sorcerer was feeling
better, though the pain was still there, and, more importantly, the shame.

  In his chamber, Kalarakshasa was seated on his golden throne on a raised platform. Behind it, a single red curtain solemnly hung down the wall, stamped with a bull’s face. They were alone.

  ‘Now you know why your guru told you to control your fury?’

  Kalanayaka was silent. But not surprised that Kalarakshasa knew such intimate details about him.

  ‘Your guru told me you are an excellent fighter, but your weakness is your anger.’

  Kalanayaka nodded.

  ‘Being fuelled by fury, you will be able to cause catastrophic damage to your opponent, yes. But it can also cause catastrophic damage to you. You can’t let rage be the sole source of your energy. If your opponent knows about this, you can be destroyed by your own energy. Just like I did to you today.’

  Kalanayaka bowed humbly.

  ‘Start meditating. It will calm your mind, and you won’t need fury to harness your energy. Then you will be able to control it, even use it in a better way. To your advantage.’ With that, he waved his hand, indicating that the meeting was over.

  Kalanayaka dipped his head to the master again and left. He resolved to start meditating with a vengeance from the next day. What Kalarakshasa had said made sense. He had to use his fury as a special weapon, rather than his only weapon.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  Anirudh found himself walking in a hurry yet again, the flute tucked in the waistband of his silk dhoti. Darkness surrounded him. But the crescent moon dimly lit the path ahead and caused his swarthy body to glimmer. He was making his way through the same forest. In his right hand, he held the broken conch-shell locket. Abruptly, he stopped beside a tree and touched its bark. Yes, it was the ideal spot!

  Krishna scratched the bark with the locket, drawing a shape. Since the bark was wet, the conch shell easily cut through it. After some time, he stepped back and studied the carving he had made. It did resemble what he had in mind. Krishna closed his eyes and ran his fingers over the trunk. He wished for the symbol to remain inscribed on the bark for centuries to come. Suddenly, a flash of lightning illuminated the engraving for a split second. A conch shell on the dark-brown bark.