by Krutant Iyer
Even though his injuries from the clash with the warriors weren’t much, he felt overwhelmingly exhausted from the prolonged, extreme usage of his Siddhi.
Looking around, Vajra made sure he had gotten all of them, before making his way towards the stone-well and entering the portal of Narakaloka.
✽✽✽
Ekaadasha
Left Behind
Murari flinched as soon as he blinked open his eyes. Initially, he felt slight discomfort, but as he tried moving a little, an excruciating pain surging from his chest, anchored him back to the ground.
He shut his eyes tightly as the pain coursed through his body. Even as the gashing pain refused to subside, Murari somehow managed to open his eyes and look around. The heat from the sweltering sun only added to his discomfort. He couldn’t hear the clang of metals or the fierce shouts of the warriors, which gave him some respite. But where were the others?
How did I end up here? Where are the others? He wondered.
He somehow managed to sit up and lean against one of the pillars. He took a deep breath and shouted, “Guys! Are you there?”
All he heard in response was the howling of wind that echoed through the deserted land. As he sat there wondering what was happening, he saw the stone-well in front of him.
Water... I need water.
Taking the aid of the stone-pillar, he managed to get on his feet. The pain from the wound in his chest did not allow him to stand straight, as he fell back on his knees, clasping at his chest with both hands. Walking was out of the question, but he needed to get to the well somehow. He needed water. He crawled on his hands and legs. The hot sand burnt his hands, knees, and his toes, but he kept going.
Upon reaching the stone-well he pulled himself up, holding onto the ledge of the well, and bent over its face, hoping to find water inside. Instead, he saw more sand.
Disappointed, he pushed himself back and managed to fight through his pain to stand on his legs again. No sooner had he done that, he felt the remaining energy leave his body, and fell headfirst into the well, as his eyes closed and enveloped him in absolute darkness.
As he opened his eyes, Murari found himself back on the field, surrounded by the warriors. For some reason, they seemed, even more, taller than he remembered. He saw one of them holding a person’s head by the hair, in his hand. As he looked closely, he recognized whose head it was – Vajra.
Consumed with rage, Murari unsheathed his sword and lunged at the warrior. The warrior’s face was shrouded behind a dark cloud. As Murari plunged his sword into the warrior’s abdomen, he felt his feet leaving the ground. Looking up, he found that he was flying towards the dark clouds that masked the face of the perpetrator who had seemingly beheaded Vajra. As he tore through the dark cloud, it got difficult to breathe and he felt suffocated by a strange vapour. As he emerged on top of the cloud, instead of seeing the warrior’s face, he only saw two giant horns protruding from the top of the skull. One of the horns twisted and broke from the skull as it came flying in his direction. Murari lifted his hands to block the attack, but the horn went through his hands and made a deep gash on his chest.
Murari awoke with a start and in a cold perspiration, as he gasped for breath.
Was it a dream? That felt too real.
As his breathing found its rhythm again, he looked about to see where he was. He couldn’t see a thing in the pitch black, but then he heard footsteps.
“Who’s there?” he shouted.
The footsteps hurriedly moved further away. Feeling a little disoriented he laid back on the ground. The floor was damp and cold; colder than he had ever felt, and yet there was no wind blowing from any quarter.
His chest didn’t hurt anymore. As he ran his fingers along his wound, he felt a thick layer of greasy, cold paste over it. Perplexed he raised his head to have a look, but realising he couldn’t see anything, he let his head slump back in its resting position.
As he lay wondering where he was and what was happening, he saw a flicker of light appear towards his right.
As the light neared, his eyes adjusted to the darkness, and he saw a gigantic old man walking towards him with a lamp in his hand. But the tall frame of the old man did not alert Murari as much as the horns that were protruding from the top of his head.
A Nisachara? Murari wondered anxiously.
Murari sat up with a jolt.
The Nisacharas he had encountered earlier in Vanagochar did not have horns over their head. But what was to say there couldn’t be others of their kind.
His hand instinctively went for his sword, but he realised it had been taken from him. He was left with no weapon to defend himself. He looked about and realised there was no other exit as well. Left with no choice, Murari waited with bated breath to see what the Nisachara would do.
“How are you feeling now, Balaka?” The old man’s voice echoed through the enclosed space.
The giant was now standing directly in front of Murari. Even though he was a giant, he seemed quite old. His wrinkled skin and the patch of white hair on his chest betrayed his age.
“Why have you brought me here?” Murari asked him instead. “Who are you?”
“We didn’t bring you here, Balaka. You came on your own.” The old man responded, amused by Murari’s flamboyance.
“You were bleeding profusely when our brothers found you.” The old man continued. “How are you feeling now?”
Murari had no recollection of falling into the pit of quicksand and had arrived in Narakaloka in an unconscious state.
“It doesn’t hurt anymore. But, why do you care?” Murari asked. “Have you come to kill me?”
“Kill you?” The old man gave him a puzzled smile. “Why would we want to kill you, after healing you?”
Murari fell silent.
“Why would a Nisachara save me?” Murari asked, his voice was gentle this time.
The old man broke into a fit of laughter on hearing Murari’s question. Murari was confused by the old man’s reaction.
“Balaka – Tell me, should one need a reason to save someone’s life?” the old man said.
Murari looked on, still sceptical about the old man’s intentions.
“How did I get here?” Murari asked.
“We found you washed up on the bank of the great pond by the jungle.” the old man said. “You were heavily injured, and were barely breathing, so my people brought you here to be treated.”
“Thank you,” Murari said meekly.
A lot of questions were gyrating in his mind, but he decided to hold back and gauge his situation first.
“You must be hungry. Come and join us for the meal.”
Saying so, the old man turned back, holding the lamp to his side, so that Murari could see the way.
Murari got up and followed him without saying another word. But his mind was on overdrive, trying to come up with ways to get out of there.
As they arrived upon the exit to the dark chamber, Murari’s eyes widened at the sight that met his eyes.
He saw giants working in pairs as they dragged a bundle of heavy logs behind them, secured to a rope that was tied around their waist. On one side, four giantesses were standing shoulder to shoulder, as they lifted their Parashus over their heads, and brought it down on the log of wood, one after the other, in an unmissable, synchronised rhythm. On the other side, some children could be seen running behind a boar with a noose in their hand, seemingly trying to throw it around the boar’s thick neck, but failing to even keep up with the creature’s pace.
Pockets of bushes and shrubs had been set on fire and spread across the expanse of the field to light up the surrounding areas. Nothing was visible beyond the area illumined by the fire. He looked up, but couldn’t see the ceiling beyond the veil of darkness. It was difficult to tell how high up the ceiling was.
All the giants had the same distinguishing feature which set them apart from the Nisacharas he had seen in Vanagochar – The horns protruding from their skulls.
>
While the narrow horns curled around in loops on the side of their heads, their size and shape differed to a great degree. The horns on the children’s head were longer and twisted into at least two loops. The adults had shorter horns, with only a few exceptions.
“Don’t be alarmed, little one.” The old man said as he continued leading Murari straight through the field. “I want you to meet someone before we eat.”
Seeing him walk into the field, the children stopped chasing the boar. The giants glanced in his direction, before continuing onwards with their logs. The giantesses did not even bother to look up and continued chopping the wood as usual.
As Murari followed the old man, he couldn’t help but wonder how Narakaloka was so different than what he had imagined it would be.
After walking for some distance, Murari saw more giants up ahead. All of them seemed at least as old as the man he was following, some even older. They were perched atop few boulders that were placed in a semicircle around a bonfire.
As Murari stood in front of the council, the old man who had escorted him here took his seat on one of the boulders to his right.
Murari nodded, as he scanned the council members. There were four males and two females. One of the giantesses, sitting in the centre seemed to be their leader. Though she wasn’t much taller than her fellow council members, she held a large staff in her hand, much like Vajra’s lathi. But her staff curved on its hilt to form a handle on which she rested her hands, as she leaned forward to get a better view of Murari.
“How did you end up here, little one?” She asked. Her voice, though coarse, was full of warmth.
For some reason, Murari did not sense any hostility from them.
“I am not sure. The last thing I remember seeing is that stone-well. But it was full of sand, instead of water. After that, I blacked out, and don’t recollect how I got here.” Murari recounted what he could remember.
The giantess watched Murari carefully for a few moments, without blinking her eyelids. Her heavily wrinkled face made it very difficult for Murari to read her expression.
“What were you doing near that stone-well?” She asked.
Murari was undecided on whether he should reveal the purpose of his journey and his companions.
Even as he contemplated an answer, the giantess spoke again.
“Were you separated from the group that came before you?” She asked.
Before me? So, they managed to come here after all.
“What happened to them? Where are they?” Murari asked.
“We do not know where they are.” She responded. “Much before you showed up, a group of manavas fell down the waterfall, into the great pond. They were already weary, and some of them seemed to be heavily wounded too. But before we could reach them, the patrolling Nisacharas found them.”
Murari’s face contorted in confusion as he asked, “Nisacharas? Aren’t you a Nisachara as well?”
“Nonsense!” thundered one of the old men who was seated next to the giantess. “Do we look like those scavengers to you?” He seethed with anger.
Murari was taken aback from the sudden outburst of the giant old man.
“Settle down Bhrihu.” The giantess commanded him. “Keep your calm.”
She looked back at Murari.
“Little one, we are not Nisacharas. We are Rakshasas.” She said.
After pausing for a while, the chief of Rakshasas said, “Let’s have our meal before we continue the session. Little one, I hope you like deer meat. It’s a rare treat nowadays.”
Murari was ready to dig into anything that looked edible at the moment. He hadn’t had a proper meal in quite a while.
The Rakshasi got up from the boulder, with the support of her staff. The rest of the council members followed her as she led Murari back to the field he had walked through earlier.
Seeing the chief Rakshasi back, the rest of the Rakshasas also gathered around, as some Rakshasas brought a roasted saddle of deer. The hoofed mammal’s skin had been neatly peeled off, and its body had been roasted until it was a little darker than the colour of the earth.
A Rakshasi came forth holding a pair of sharp knives and set about slicing the roasted meat into smaller pieces expertly. Once she was done, a few children ran up gleefully and picked up a piece of meat each. Carrying the pieces of cooked meat carefully in a huge leaf, the children offered a piece each to the elder council members. They thanked the children and accepted their offering.
As soon as the Rakshasi chief took the first bite of the meat, the rest of the Rakshasas fell upon the remaining pieces of meat like a starved wolf.
One of the children ran up to Murari and handed him a piece of the meat. Judging by his looks, Murari figured the little Rakshasa was at least couple of years younger than him, yet he was only a few inches shorter than Murari.
After everyone had eaten, the Rakshasas and the Rakshasis retired to a corner for a nap. While most of the council members had also retired, the Rakshasi chief and the old Rakshasa who had escorted Murari earlier, led him back to the array of boulders where they had been conversing earlier.
“Little one, what are you called?” The Rakshasi chief asked as she took her seat on the boulder.
“Murari.”
“Murari, how did you end up in Narakaloka?” She asked.
Murari didn’t answer.
“It’s alright if you aren’t comfortable answering that yet.” She said. “But what made you think we were Nisacharas?”
Murari didn’t know how to respond to her question. He had impulsively called them Nisacharas.
But having come here, he had experienced nothing but normalcy, without any hint of any violent behaviour. They even seemed to be offended when he mistook them as Nisacharas. Weren’t they supposed to be the same?
“I don’t know. The Nisacharas had attacked my village and tried to kill me and my Avva. I know they come from Narakaloka. So, I thought, maybe you are –” Murari let his words trail.
“Kill you?” the Rakshasi seemed to be surprised. “Say, which clan do you belong to, little one?”
“Sadhuvamsha.”
The Rakshasi’s eye widened with shock, as she stared at Murari in disbelief.
“Don’t tell me – you are…” The old Rakshasa who had escorted Murari earlier jumped down from the boulder and stood in front of him, shocked by the revelation.
Murari’s eyebrows twitched seeing their reactions.
I shouldn’t have said anything. After all, Tata did kill the King of Narakaloka? Murari suddenly recollected.
“Calm down, Drona.” The chief Rakshasi said. “You will scare the Balaka.”
Drona apologised meekly and settled back on the boulder, though he was still trembling, it wasn’t out of fear or anger. Murari wondered why the Rakshasas were getting so worked up after finding out his clan’s name.
“Murari.” The Rakshasi called his attention towards her. “It seems your arrival in Narakaloka was not by mistake, but due to the play of your fate.”
“What do you mean?” Murari asked, puzzled and alerted on noticing a sudden change in their behaviour.
“Your arrival had been foretold over a decade ago.” The chief Rakshasi said.
Murari wondered if the Rakshasi had lost her mind and was now making up stories.
“I can understand your scepticism.” The Rakshasi said, reading his expression. “Let me tell you why the Nisacharas had come looking for you.”
Murari’s ears twitched on hearing the Rakshasi’s words.
“But before that, you need to know about the events that led to the attack.” The Rakshasi said.
“As you may have noticed, Narakaloka lies beneath Bhuloka. Our land is devoid of sun’s light and warmth, as you can see for yourself. All the inhabitants of this Loka originated from Asuras, our progenitors. Over the years two clans gained prominence and split from the Asuras to establish their own identities – Nisacharas and Rakshasas.
Our clan derives it
s name from the task entrusted to us by our ancestors. We live to guard Kamyaka, the jungle of divine fruits, as well as protect the first fragment of the map to Devaloka.”
“Devaloka – What’s that?” Murari asked, he had heard about Narakaloka, Bhuloka, and Balaloka from Vajra, but this seemed to be new.
“Devaloka is a mystery to everyone,” Rakshasi said. “Nobody has ever been able to journey to this mystical Loka.”
“Why’s that?” Murari asked.
“Nobody has ever been able to bring together all the fragments of the map. Nobody knows how many pieces of the map exist. Of all the pieces known to exist, the first fragment lies here in Narakaloka, while the second one lies in possession of King Shalva in Balaloka. The third piece was preserved by Veerabhadra, the chief of Sadhuvamsha.”
A frown formed upon Murari’s face as soon as he heard his Tata’s name.
“Tata held a fragment of the map to Devaloka?” he asked.
“Yes, he did.” The Rakshasi answered. “When Nishada, the king of Narakaloka at the time, got to know about Veerabhadra possessing a piece of the map, he immediately began planning a campaign to obtain this piece of the map. Nishada knew he couldn’t make a move against Shalva, as his army of warriors stood ten times stronger than his own. But Veerabhadra’s clan inhabited the land that lay on the outskirts of Shalva’s kingdom in Balaloka. Also, Nishada was aware of the differences between the two of them. Hence, he joined hands with Shalva and mounted an attack on Veerabhadra’s village.”
Murari hadn’t heard this detail of his grandfather’s story from Vajra. He wondered if the Rakshasi was spinning a tale out of thin air, or speaking the truth.
The Rakshasi went on to relate how Nishada and Shalva had attacked Veerabhadra’s village and yet failed to find the piece of the map to Devaloka.
“Shalva’s warriors and Nishada’s Nisacharas looked for Veerabhadra and the ones who had managed to somehow escape the village, but failed to find them.” The Rakshasi continued.