The Journey Beyond Bhuloka

by Krutant Iyer

  The Journey Beyond Bhuloka

  Book One

  of the

  LOKAS series

  Krutant Iyer

  Copyright © 2020 Krutant Iyer

  Krutant Iyer asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved

  No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the author.

  For permissions contact:

  krutantwrites@gmail.com

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Note to Readers

  Ekam

  Dve

  Treeni

  Chatvaari

  Pancha

  Shat

  Sapta

  Ashta

  Nava

  Dasha

  Ekaadasha

  Dvaadasha

  Trayodasha

  Chaturdasha

  Panchadasha

  Shodasha

  Saptadasha

  Ashtaadasha

  Acknowledgement

  Map of Bhuloka

  || OM GAM GANAPATAYE NAMAHA ||

  Note to Readers

  I can’t thank you enough for picking up this book. You have made my day.

  Before we embark on this journey beyond Bhuloka, please allow me to share a little detail with you. The realm of Lokas I envisioned and created in this book, and the ones to follow, are quite different than the universe we inhabit.

  This is the first of the three books I have planned in the Lokas series.

  Writing this book has been one of the most gratifying experience of my life.

  I hope you enjoy reading The Journey Beyond Bhuloka as much as I enjoyed writing it.

  As this is my debut novel, I would love to know your thoughts on it. I can be reached via email and twitter.

  www.twitter.com/KrutantIyer

  krutantwrites@gmail.com

  You’re the best!

  Krutant

  Ekam

  The Strongest Warrior of Balaloka

  The flames from the bonfire danced heartily, as a gentle breeze swayed it back and forth, almost perfectly matching the rhythm of the clansmen of Sadhuvamsha dancing around it.

  The clan of Sadhuvamsha had not had many reasons to celebrate lately. But tonight, was different.

  Unlike the other clans in Balaloka, the clansmen of Sadhuvamsha were not interrelated by ancestry. It had been only a few months since the clan of Sadhuvamsha had been established by Veerabhadra, the strongest warrior of Balaloka.

  Three years ago, Veerabhadra had moved to the capital city of Balaloka with his family. He was an exceptionally large, muscular man, with streaks of whites running through his long, black, wavy hair that was tied in a loose messy bun over his head. He had a huge scar running over his chest, that added to his intimidating mien. Having grown up as an orphan, he placed the utmost importance on the wellbeing of his family. So, when his village was hit by an epidemic, claiming his wife’s life, he lost no time in relocating with his newlywed daughter and son-in-law to the capital city of the Kingdom of Balaloka, the realm of warriors.

  Every year, Shalva, the King of Balaloka, would keep a fighting festival – Yodhin Mahotsav.

  Ranajira, the arena of warriors became the centre stage during this festival. All the warriors from Balaloka were invited to participate in the competition. They would be pitted against each other, and the winner of a fight would move onto the next round, till only two warriors would remain standing. The winner would take home the title of the strongest warrior in Balaloka and could choose between joining King Shalva’s regiment of elite guards or one thousand gold coins.

  Having left his farmland behind, Veerabhadra was left with no choice but to enter the competition to fend for his family. Such was his might that he ended up winning the competition two years in a row, choosing the one thousand gold coins over joining the elite guards of King Shalva on both the occasions.

  When Veerabhadra entered the competition the third time, Shalva, who was already feeling insulted by his constant rejection to join the elite guards, challenged Veerabhadra to a one-on-one fight. Veerabhadra easily overpowered the King but was banished from ever setting foot in the capital city again.

  Veerabhadra decided to leave the Kingdom altogether, and settled outside the borders of Shalva’s Kingdom, by the edge of a dense jungle. He had gained many disciples over the couple of years he had spent in the capital city, and all his disciples decided to leave with him.

  Taking them all under his wings, he formed the Sadhuvamsha clan, thus named to honour the nomadic sage who had cared for him when he was a child and had fed him, and trained him in the art of combat, and helped him awaken his Siddhi, making him more powerful than an average inhabitant of Balaloka.

  Sadhuvamsha had not been officially acknowledged as a clan by King Shalva, but the clansmen did not mind that, as long as they could live peacefully. But the King’s soldiers, knowing their King’s disdain of the members of the Sadhuvamsha, would often wreak havoc upon the village whenever Veerabhadra and his disciples went away to train in the jungle.

  One day, Veerabhadra’s son-in-law decided to stay back in the village to stand guard against Shalva’s soldiers. When they came, he unleashed a torrent of arrows at them from a distance. Unlike Veerabhadra, his son-in-law wasn’t a Siddha, but that did not deter him from wiping out half the troops of Shalva who had come to torment the villagers. But soon the soldiers managed to overpower him with their numbers and killed him brutally in front of the helpless villagers, before tying his body to their horse and dragging it back to the kingdom, as they galloped away.

  Veerabhadra seethed with anger when he got to know of what had happened after he returned. But his daughter stopped him when he and his disciples were about to set out to avenge his son-in-law. She was expecting, and did not wish her child to be born in a war-torn environment.

  After that incident, Shalva’s soldiers refrained from attacking the village. Months passed back quickly.

  That night, Veerabhadra sat by the bonfire, as his disciples and their loved ones danced around the bonfire.

  He anxiously picked up a stick and prodded the embers of the bonfire.

  Suddenly, the night was filled with the cries of a newborn baby. The men and the women stopped dancing around the bonfire, as Veerabhadra stood up with excitement, beaming with joy.

  A woman appeared out of the medical hut, looking around frantically. Seeing Veerabhadra by the bonfire, she rushed towards him.

  “Mukhya!” she screamed, even before she reached him.

  She addressed him by the title accorded to him as the head of the village and their clan. Her eyes were moist with tears as she looked at him.

  “Sak – Sakhi.” She gasped for breath. “Please come quickly.”

  Veerabhadra could sense that something wasn’t right. Fearing for his daughter’s life, he immediately rushed behind the woman.

  Entering the small hut, Veerabhadra’s eyes widened in horror.

  His daughter lay on the cot, motionless. Her unblinking eyes stared at the roof, even as her lips were arched in a smile. An old woman sitting by the bedside, caressed her face gently, before running her hand over his daughter’s eyes, shutting them.

  “I am so sorry Mukhya.” The old woman said weakly, as s
he turned towards Veerabhadra.

  Veerabhadra stood rooted to the ground. He couldn’t bring himself to believe what he was seeing.

  “She knew.” The old woman revealed. “It was complicated. Only one of them could survive. She chose his life over hers.”

  Veerabhadra felt his knees weaken, as he collapsed on the ground. Tears started trickling down his face. He could not bring himself to believe his daughter was dead.

  Just then, a loud explosion was heard from outside the hut.

  “The soldiers have come!” Someone yelled from outside the hut.

  But Veerabhadra wasn’t listening. He could not bring himself to stand up.

  “Mukhya!” the old woman called out to Veerabhadra. “Mukhya! Sakhi sacrificed her life to bring this child into this world. You need to ensure his safety above all.”

  The old woman’s words brought Veerabhadra back from his stupor, as he sprang up.

  He looked at the crying baby, wrapped in a white cloth, lying in the wicker basket on the ground beside his mother’s still body.

  He walked over to his daughter’s side and kissed her forehead, as the tears now flowed freely down his face, dripping onto hers.

  Suddenly, a tall man appeared at the entrance of the hut.

  “Mukhya! It’s Shalva” he announced. “He has brought his elites with him.”

  Veerabhadra got up and paused for a moment, before turning towards the man.

  “Alert everyone.”

  His demeanour changed. His eyes were bloodred, as his tears evaporated from the heat of the rage boiling within him.

  Without casting another glance at the child, Veerabhadra turned to leave with the tall man.

  “Mukhya! Are you not even going to acknowledge your grandson?” the old woman called out from behind.

  “Right now, my clansmen need me,” Veerabhadra said, without turning.

  “I can see it in your eyes.” The old woman said. “Do not blame the child for what’s not his fault.”

  “I know,” Veerabhadra said tersely.

  “Mukhya, this child will never know a mother’s love or a father’s affection.” The old woman said. “But when I look into his eyes, I see nothing but pureness.”

  She drew in a deep breath before she spoke again.

  “He is not going to have an easy life, but he will emerge victorious in the face of any adversity. He has been blessed with his mother’s willpower and his father’s courage. Apart from us, you must also protect him. He is, after all the future of Sadhuvamsha”

  Veerabhadra glanced sideways without turning back, looking at the old woman from the corner of his eyes.

  “Attika, as long as I am around, nothing will happen to you,” he said. Then hesitating for a moment, he added, “or him.”

  Saying so, Veerabhadra exited the hut.

  As soon as he stepped out, he was shocked to see the sight that met his eyes.

  Shalva was mounted on his royal steed, waiting by the edge of the plains just outside the village. His elite soldiers, also on horses, covered him on both sides. A small regiment of archers stood behind them, with their bows in hand.

  Seeing him appear from within the hut, Shalva’s face broke into a grimace.

  “Mukhya!” A voice from behind drew his attention away from Shalva.

  The tall man from before, reappeared, holding a massive mace in both hands.

  “Vajra! Something’s not right.” He said, taking his mace from the deputy-chief of the village, and his senior-most disciple. “Ask all the clansmen to secure their families inside their huts, but be prepared for a battle if it comes to that.”

  “Do you think –” Vajra asked, dreading to finish his sentence.

  “I am not sure. But since he has brought his archers and his elites along with him, we should be prepared for the worst.” Veerabhadra said.

  Vajra nodded tersely, before shooting off in the opposite direction to warn the others. Though Veerabhadra was only a few years older than him, Vajra had chosen to follow him after seeing him fight in the Ranajira. Other than being Veerabhadra’s first disciple, Vajra was also his closest friend. Though they were friends, Vajra always addressed Veerabhadra by his title, due to the tremendous respect he held for him.

  Veerabhadra made his way towards Shalva. He knew he had to try and avoid conflict if possible. They were seriously outnumbered.

  “What brings you here, your Majesty?” Veerabhadra asked as he stood by the edge of his village, not wanting to get too close to the soldiers.

  “Your Majesty!?” Shalva chuckled, raising an eyebrow. “It seems living outside my Kingdom has knocked some decency into your thick head.”

  Veerabhadra did not respond. He knew provoking the King in such a situation would be akin to inviting a calamity on his people.

  “What can I do for you?” Veerabhadra asked Shalva curtly, trying very hard to mask his hatred for the King of Balaloka.

  “Oh – getting straight to the point, are we?” Shalva said. “Very well then. Handover the piece of the map to Devaloka you seem to possess and I will leave here immediately.”

  Veerabhadra felt twinge run through his entire body on hearing Shalva’s demand.

  How does he know about that?

  “Your silence is quite deafening, Veerabhadra,” Shalva said. “It tells me that I have come to the right place.”

  Something about his relaxed demeanour was disturbing Veerabhadra.

  “I don’t know what you are talking about,” Veerabhadra said confidently.

  “You don’t – huh?” Shalva chuckled once again. “I guess, we will find out soon.”

  Saying so, Shalva gestured one of his foot soldiers to raise the flag.

  Following his King’s orders, the soldier raised a plain red flag with nothing on it.

  Veerabhadra looked at the flag, wondering what it implied. A King’s flag always had his insignia on it, but this one didn’t.

  As if in answer to his question, he heard a huge uproar coming from the other end of the village.

  As he turned around, he was shocked at the sight that met his eyes.

  On the other end of the village, by the edge of the jungle, a horde of beings had gathered. Beings he had believed to be extinct.

  Even though he was one of the tallest warriors in Balaloka, the beings stood at least a couple of feet taller than him. Some of them were as tall as the trees, from behind which they had emerged. Even from this far, Veerabhadra could see the long, sharp fangs that protruded from the top end of their mouths. Except for the ragged shreds of cloth wrapped around their waist, hanging down their thighs, they were bare-bodied. Most of them had no hair on their head. The few who had hair had left it loose, falling on both sides of their face.

  While all of them held a weapon in their hands, one of them had an upraised flag in his hand, similar to the one Shalva’s soldier had raised a moment ago. But unlike the earlier flag, this one flaunted the insignia of the Nisacharas.

  The crest was in the shape of a human skull with two drawn-out fangs jutting out from the corner of the mouth.

  The Nisacharas howled in unison, filling the air with their dreadful battle cry. Before Veerabhadra could recover, the demonic horde had already entered the village. Veerabhadra dashed them.

  On hearing the uproar, Vajra and few more clansmen emerged from their huts and upon seeing the Nisacharas, stood rooted in their places.

  “Quick! Get your weapons.” Veerabhadra shouted as he ran past them, without waiting to explain.

  Seeing him rush, the men quickly entered their huts and equipped themselves with weapons.

  Seeing Veerabhadra approach towards them, the leader of the Nisacharas raised his hand signalling him to stop.

  “O’ mighty warrior of Balaloka, I am Nishada, King of Narakaloka, and leader of Asuras.” He introduced himself. “Handover the piece of the map to Devaloka and we would leave without harming you and your clansmen.”

  Veerabhadra frowned upon the mention of the piec
e of the map once again.

  “And why do you think I hold the piece of the map to Devaloka, King Nishada?” he asked.

  “Don’t play games with me, you fool. Handover the map while I am asking nicely.” Nishada said, with a hint of impatience in his voice. “Or I will ensure you and your clansmen do not leave here alive.”

  Though the Nisachara King was towering over Veerabhadra by at least a foot and a half, he felt a little intimidated by the warrior’s demeanour.

  “Oh – is that so?” Veerabhadra said. “Why don’t you try?”

  “You FOOL! I was offering you mercy. Now face my wrath!” Nishada yelled as he signalled the Nisacharas to open attack on Veerabhadra.

  Veerabhadra did not move from his place. The Nisacharas assumed that the old warrior had already given up, but his clansmen knew better.

  Veerabhadra waited till the Nisacharas were several feet from him, then lifting his mace high up in the air, he hit the ground with such a might, that it sent tremors all over the village and its surrounding areas. Cracks formed on the land beneath the Nisacharas’ feet, and from the cracks strong, thick roots started rising and coiling around their feet. The Nisacharas stared helplessly as the roots coiled up from their thighs to their waist, till it had covered their entire frame, leaving only their faces in the open.

  Nishada looked on in horror.

  “You – You are a Siddha?” Nishada murmured, his haughtiness from earlier had dissipated, upon witnessing Veerabhadra’s power of Siddhi.

  “Take your demons and get out of here Nishada,” Veerabhadra said. “If I go all out, this ground will become your graveyard tonight.”

  Nishada gulped. He had not imagined the strongest warrior of Balaloka to be so overpowering.

  Seeing this scene unfold, Shalva lifted his right hand diagonally and held it steady. Seeing their King’s signal, the archers set fire to the tip of their arrows that were already coated with flammable powder, and nocked the arrows along the string of their bows, drawing it far back.