The matthadheesh paused for a moment, before speaking again.
‘It is said that not all the Templars were executed on that fateful day of Friday the 13th, 1307 AD. Some of them escaped. Among them were those who were eventually handpicked by the Order. They were permitted to flee, so they could reach various parts of Europe and the Middle East, and establish new strongholds for the secret brotherhood. The Overlords were now supremely confident. If they could puppeteer the geo-politics of France and Cyprus, what stopped them from taking control of more regions, nations and continents?’
Vidyut was listening intently. Something seemed to slowly but surely convince him that this was all somehow connected to the matth, to his late father, to Romi and Trijat, and to himself.
And to Harappa.
While he was getting a hang of how the Order had manipulated the Templars, Vidyut still did not understand what was it that they wanted to ultimately achieve.
‘Baba, what does this Order want, really? Their attempt to control politics, nations and religion is understandable, but to what end?’
Dwarka Shastri took a deep breath and launched himself into the long-due explanation.
‘As you know, it had all started in Nicaea, with the mighty emperor Constantine’s desire to establish a one-world government. A new order of governance and of control, of the society and of the individual – a totalitarian government that transcended divisive forces of religious fanaticism, economic protectionism, caste, color, creed, language…why even patriotism! His rationale, however bizarre it sounds today, was theoretically correct and well-intended.
But it was set-up for failure right from day one. Diversity is what makes humankind the supreme species of this planet. It is diversity that is the progenitor of culture, of ambition, of art and literature, of scientific progress, of economic aspirations and so much more. Without this rich assortment of different peoples, we would be nothing more than a vast herd of sheep. If the world today has a Sistine Chapel alongside the ghaats of Banaras, if we have a global fashion ecosystem flourishing alongside a burgeoning sports industry, if there are healthy debates on euthanasia and abortions – it is all because we humans are dissimilar.
So, in other words, Constantine’s plan was fundamentally against the primary reality of nature – evolution. He was trying to roll back the human race into a herd. But more than that, his greatest blunder was that he overlooked one extremely powerful force.
Human ambition.’
‘Before I tell you more about the New World Order and their unbelievably nefarious design, there is one last thing I want you to grasp, Vidyut. Do you know what their most precious takeaway from the entire bloody chapter of the Templars was? It was something that was going to make them an unstoppable global force.’
‘What was that takeaway, Baba?’ enquired Vidyut.
‘It was something that tossed humanity’s destiny under the heels of the Order forever, and paved the way for wars, dictators, mass exterminations and inhuman atrocities,’ replied Dwarka Shastri.
‘They had learnt that wars could be engineered.
That wars could be fought by them from both sides.
And this horrible, merciless modus operandus was going to ravage the world…again and again and again.’
The Dark Forests of Aryavarta, 1699 BCE
DHRUV
The arrow struck the approaching daitya’s forehead, right between his eyebrows. The force of the piercing projectile threw the attacking cannibal’s body back a few paces.
Two more screaming daitya’s fell from the branches of high trees as two menacing arrows shot through them simultaneously.
Dhruv was, beyond doubt, Aryavarta’s greatest archer. His bow and quiver were like an extension of his own body.
Manu kicked the chest of a daitya, which hit him like a falling boulder. In the same momentum, the son of Surya beheaded another attacker that was dangerously close to one of the alchemists. As the headless body of the assailant spouted blood, it sprayed across Satyavrata’s face, hair and shoulders, giving him a ghastly appearance.
By now Manu was used to the gore. He simply wiped his face with his leather wrist-guard and continued to battle.
As he turned to scan the battle scene, Manu spotted a daitya bowman take aim at Dhruv. Without a moment’s hesitation and with stunning precision, Satyavrata Manu held his thick sword’s handle with both hands, drew it behind his back and shot it like an arrow fired from a powerful bow. The mighty sword tore through the chest of the cannibal archer, pinning him against a thick tree-trunk.
Dhruv noticed this timely intervention and nodded at Manu in a quick acknowledgement of the life-saving help he had just received. The warrior-prince nodded back at his closest friend.
Together the valiant duo of Manu and Dhruv could crush an entire army.
It did not take more than a few minutes for the bloody skirmish to end. As Manu and Dhruv surveyed the outcome of the short clash, they were satisfied with the results. They had lost no men, while a dozen daityas lay slaughtered around them. The ground beneath them, and the trees and bushes in the vicinity were now painted crimson with the shower of daitya blood.
‘This was perhaps just the first wave, Dhruv. We need to get the alchemists out of here now!’ said Manu, even as he kept an eye out for more aggressors prowling behind the dense foliage.
Dhruv nodded in agreement and readied an arrow on his bow, as he led the march out of the woods.
What Manu did not know was that this attack was just a suicide scout mission. The nar-bhakshi were not to be beaten so easily.
As Satyavrata Manu, Dhruv, their alchemists and fighters left the boundaries of the dark forests, they were not aware of the cruel black eyes that were watching them from a hidden machaan in the high trees.
He was watching them.
And now the mighty Nara-Munda knew their battle style, their strengths and their weaknesses very clearly.
He marked the son of Surya for himself.
And swore to eat Manu’s beating heart…raw.
Banaras, 2017
KEDARNATH
‘I am well, gurudev,’ said Naina. ‘Yes…he is fine. Our devta is fine.’
She was walking around on the terrace of one of the wings of the Dev-Raakshasa matth, speaking into her mobile phone. Before this simple instrument became her constant companion, she was accustomed to using an Iridium 9555 satellite phone. The remote mountains she was stationed at before Vidyut arrived in Banaras, no other device could have worked. And now the person on the other end of the line was using a similar, advanced sat-phone, because he was beyond the reach of all other forms of communication networks.
She was speaking to Mahant Bhavaanishankar, a mystical sadhu from the high mountains of Northern Himalayas, whose hermitage lay on the banks of the Mandakini river.
The old Mahant (chief priest) had been the guardian of what was supposed to be the last Black Temple.
He was the high-priest at the Kedarnath Mandir in Rudraprayag, Uttarakhand.
The Kedarnath temple is one among the supremely revered twelve Jyotirlinga of Lord Shiva. These twelve sacred shrines represent the epitome of Shiva’s divine light and have been worshipped as perhaps the holiest pilgrimages for Hindus over hundreds of years.
The temple at Kedarnath is believed to have been built originally by the Pandavas, the five valiant and righteous brothers from Hastinapur, in order to please Shiva and seek his forgiveness for the bloodshed of the great Mahabharata war. As hundreds of years passed, the sacred sanctuary became a hallowed attraction for millions of pilgrims.
When large swathes of the hill-state were engulfed under water, the shrine remained miraculously undamaged during the flash flood that hit Uttarakhand in the year 2013. Said to have been saved by a large boulder that diverted the onslaught of the swelling currents of the Mandakini, the temple stands at its original spot even today.
How did this miracle happen? How did the mandir remain largely intact when everythin
g surrounding it collapsed under the assault of the flood?
No one can say for sure. Perhaps an unknown divine force was guarding this precious precinct. Perhaps something so invaluable lay concealed in the heart of the temple, that even the Mandakini had to conform, despite being in vicious spate.
After all, Kedarnath was the last Black Temple.
Or was it?
‘It is close to us, gurudev, hidden away and protected by Baba himself…and we all await the Rohini Nakshatra with bated breath. But I still do not understand how Vidyut is supposed to unfurl a secret that dates back three thousand years. Are we not expecting too much from him?’
Mahant Bhavaanishankar laughed merrily. Everything he had devoted his life to was about to bear fruit in a few days. And unlike Naina, he was certain of the prophecy.
‘Look, my bitiya…look how everything has come together just like it was meant to. Vidyut is in Kashi, just when the planets are about to juxtapose themselves for the holy nakshatra. The forces of evil are getting increasingly restless and Lucifer himself has arrived to wage the final battle. The great Dwarka Shastri lives beyond his maarkesh kaalam (the hour of death) and the vile mahataantric lies as ashes in his own ritual-pit. Don’t you see, Naina…it is ALL happening the way it had been prophesied!’
The white-bearded Mahant laughed again, keeping his phone aside and sprinkling the cold water of a mountain-stream on his face. His devout laughter echoed across the snow-capped mountains that surrounded him.
Naina also broke into a smile of relief. She knew the Mahant was right. Everything was unfolding in precisely the manner it was supposed to. She crossed her fingers and whispered a short prayer.
However, notwithstanding the hope and reprieve that she could feel lighting up within her, Naina had latched on to one word that the Mahant had said. One name she did not understand.
Lucifer.
‘Gurudev, I did not understand what you meant by saying Lucifer himself has arrived. Who is Lucifer, gurudev?’
It was for the first time during this call that Bhavaanishankar became serious.
‘There is little time now for me to explain everything to you, Naina. Just remember that to stop the greatest force of good, the greatest power of evil shall unleash itself.’
Naina was listening, but could not gather what the Mahant was trying to say.
‘Just be aware, Naina…and inform the great matthadheesh.
Tell him the Devil now walks in Kashi.’
Ark Basecamp, Marshes of Aryavarta, 1699 BCE
THE LAST HUMAN COLONY
It looked as if all of earth had been painted with a broad brush of grey. As Manu and Dhruv rode through the central lane of their gigantic basecamp, everything appeared to be ashen in color. The slushy ground, the makeshift tents, the tattered clothing of his people, the animals, the distant mountains, the sky…every speck seemed to be a sorrowful grey.
This was during what was left of daytime.
The nights were terrifying, with crimson and black skies screaming death in the language of thunder. Hundreds of thousands of men, women and children spent these nights shivering under the feeble protection of their camp. One hour of sleep became more precious than a thousand horses.
Manu looked around himself at the sprawling, miserable city of tents that spread for miles in all directions. All he could see was a sea of humans battling every moment to live another day. All he could hear was the incessant wailing of infants, the unbearable cries of the wounded and the diseased, the whining of nervous beasts – all muddled with the shrill whistle of the perpetually blowing wind.
It had not stopped raining for several months. Everything and everyone was drenched all the time. The world was wetter than these wretched survivors could have imagined even in their worst nightmare. Scores succumbed every day, their bodies unable to cope with this unending assault of nature’s fury.
Dhruv could see the despair on his friend and leader’s face.
The one thing Manu’s childhood comrade knew was that if there was anyone who could pierce through the devastating waves of the great deluge and lead them all to the other side of pralay, it was Satyavrata Manu. He was convinced that Manu was the only man standing between the great flood and certain extinction of humankind.
Dhruv had taken it upon himself to never let this last ray of hope dwindle. He fully understood the excruciating pressure that Manu withstood every hour of every day. He knew how insufferable the burden of being responsible for hundreds of thousands of lives could be, especially against the given hostile odds. He spent most days almost entirely with the son of Surya, and was privy to his fears and anxieties. He knew Manu was unsure of his own capability in the face of such destruction – especially without Matsya there to guide him.
And yet Dhruv had witnessed the most spectacular evacuation and rescue campaigns over the last few months, under the dazzling stewardship of Manu. The son of Surya had stood on the fort ramparts of city after city, village after village…drawing people out of their homes, more through the magic of his personal charisma than the doomsday warnings he was the forbearer of. He had seen Manu riding into the eye of the storm if it meant saving a dozen more people, risking his life several times over in the process. Every time Manu came back with survivors, his stature grew.
Dhruv had ridden into the storm by his leader’s side. He had unquestioning faith in this magnificent man.
He could never let Manu give up.
‘What troubles you, Manu?’
Manu did not respond. He did not turn to Dhruv. He just trudged on, his horse turning aimlessly into one of the narrow lanes of the basecamp. Dhruv followed his leader.
After several minutes of riding through and inspecting the vast settlement, Manu spoke.
‘Do you think we will escape the great deluge, Dhruv? Take a look at these people. With every passing day, they become weaker. The hope in their eyes dwindles a little more. Their stomachs are empty, their skin crumpled and their bones drenched to pulp! How long will they be able to go on?’
‘As long as they see you, Manu,’ said Dhruv. ‘You are the beacon of hope for these hundreds of thousands of people. Why, most of them would have perished when pralay struck their cities and towns. Today every single one of them lives, breathes and fights to herald a new dawn for humankind - only because of you! They all believe that you saved them once, and that you will protect them forever. They have faith in you, Manu. Just you.’
Manu halted his mount and turned to Dhruv. His face was wrought with irritation as well as with helplessness.
‘I am not what they think I am, Dhruv! You know me since we were children. I am just another ordinary fellow, who happened to have caught Matsya’s fancy. I don’t even know if the Ark will get built in time. I do not know if something so gigantic and enormously weighty will indeed withstand the vicious flood. It may sink like a rock, taking all of these people with it! For all you know, Matsya was just a handsome conjurer who had a way with words! I am not what he said I was. I am a fake, Dhruv!’
Dhruv stared into his leader’s eyes with disbelief. He knew it was time that he put aside the exalted status of King Manu, and spoke like a true friend.
‘You don’t believe any of what you have just said, Satyavrata Manu. From what I have heard you and Tara describe, Matsya is truly divine. You love him more than you can say and are cross with him for leaving your side. And you know you are not ordinary, Manu. How can Vivasvan Pujari’s blood be ordinary? This last human colony stands today because of you! This ocean of men and women survives to this day because of you! They are not being chopped to pieces and eaten alive by the daityas because of you! And if there is anyone I could bet my life on, anyone who has the ability and the character to vanquish the great deluge – it is you, my friend! It is Satyavrata Manu!’
Dhruv was nearly shouting by this time, the veins on his neck about to burst with the intensity he had put into those words.
The words hit home.
Manu
tried to maintain his serious face, before breaking into a tired but affectionate smile. He needed the strength, the belief and the energy Dhruv had just lent him. Satyavrata grinned at his cherished friend and spurred-on his horse to ride away towards his own small tent.
As he cantered away, Manu looked back and addressed Dhruv.
‘Get some rest, O mighty archer. Tomorrow we ride to the Great Ark.’
‘To Manu’s Ark!’ replied Dhruv laughing, even as Manu shook his head in embarrassment and galloped away.
Banaras, 2017
A TOTALITARIAN GOVERNMENT – PART II
They sat around a small ritual fire, that had slowly doused out on its own after the pooja was completed. Dwarka Shastri had taken a break for his evening worship.
‘Like I explained to you earlier, Vidyut, the dark Order changed its name and form several times. Do not confuse it to be one single organization. It is a complex matrix of secret societies, organized institutions and powerful personalities spread all over the globe. Their aim is not just political. The New World Order is a centuries old network that envisions the control of the world population in the hands of a very few individuals.
They do not operate based on a political agenda alone. They control the world economy, religions, military action, civil wars, social discourses, media and of course, politics. The complex maze of kings, priests, warriors, gold and geography they crafted with the Knights Templar, only grew exponentially in terms of sophistication, scale and reach. Before anyone knew it, the world was being run as a war-economy.’
‘What do you mean when you say a war-economy, Baba?’ enquired Vidyut.
Kashi: Secret of the Black Temple (Harappa Series) Page 7