The Journey Beyond Bhuloka

by Krutant Iyer

  As Murari’s mind tried to process everything he was hearing, he felt anger welling up inside him.

  “In his obsession to collect all pieces of the map to Devaloka, Nishada did not even spare his own subjects.

  Before attacking Veerabhadra’s village, Nishada had summoned our chief to his castle and ordered him to hand over the first fragment of the Devaloka map to him.

  Our Chief refused to do so. The piece of the map is a sacred entity that has been passed down through the generations of Rakshasas. Our chief did not wish it to be used for an individual’s ulterior goal, even if it was the King of Narakaloka.”

  “Your chief? Aren’t you the chief?” Murari asked.

  “I am referring to our previous chief, who was also my husband.” The Rakshasi revealed, as her weary eyes teared up a little.

  She paused for a while, lost in her thoughts, before continuing.

  “In his wisdom, he had seen the downfall of Nishada even before his dastardly act against Sadhuvamsha, and he did not wish for the piece of the map to fall in the hands of such a cruel King.

  Upon his refusal, Nishada had him imprisoned in his castle’s dungeon and gave the order to arrest all the Rakshasas in his capital city. He beat our Chief every day to divulge the location of the piece of the map, but the Chief refused to reveal the details.

  After Nishada returned to Narakaloka, having failed to get his hands on Veerabhadra’s piece of the map, he became even more fretful.

  That’s when one of Shalva’s emissary came to meet Nishada. The messenger informed him that Veerabhadra was hunting for him and was currently in Bhuloka on some jungle island.

  The messenger convinced Nishada to go out and finish Veerabhadra before he came to Narakaloka and promised him assistance from Shalva’s warriors.

  A terrible battle broke out between Nishada and Veerabhadra. Veerabhadra easily overpowered and killed Nishada and the Nisacharas in the battle. Even though Shalva had promised to help Nishada, his warriors did not arrive until it was too late.”

  “What happened to Tata after he defeated Nishada?” Murari asked.

  “Even we do not know that.” the Rakshasi said. “After Nishada’s fall, chaos ensued in Narakaloka as the land was provisionally left without a King. We took the chance to somehow escape to this jungle, where we have been living in hiding ever since.”

  “But, how is this related to the attack on my village?” Murari wondered out loud.

  “When Veerabhadra had defeated Nishada and his soldiers, one Nisachara had managed to survive. He overheard Veerabhadra speaking with one of his clansmen about you and your village.

  After Nishada’s death, his son, Kirmira returned to the capital city and inherited the throne. He learnt about you and your village from one of his counsellors, who had heard it previously from the escaped Nisachara soldier. Thinking he could tackle a child anytime he wished, he decided to send out troops of Nisacharas to hunt and capture Veerabhadra instead. He wished to avenge his father, and fulfil his unrealised dream of discovering and ruling over Devaloka. That’s when the Seer showed up in Narakaloka.” The Rakshasi said.

  “Seer?” Murari asked.

  “A Seer is a highly revered being in all the Lokas. She holds the power to transcend time, and traverse the boundaries between Lokas.” The Rakshasi explained. “Before she arrived in Narakaloka, we had almost forgotten all about her. It is very unusual for a Seer to show up amongst people, but a Seer intervening in the affairs of a Loka was absolutely unheard of.

  I can still remember her prophecy as if it were yesterday –

  When the dark light descends from the realm of humanity, embrace it wholeheartedly; for it will dowse the fool’s pride, and deliver you from the eternal night.

  Murari stared at her with a blank expression on his face. Looking at him, the Rakshasi understood that he was unable to grasp the nuance.

  “Don’t worry about it. Let us continue.” She said. “When Kirmira got wind of the prophecy he did not pay much heed to it. For more than ten years he continued looking for Veerabhadra but failed to locate his whereabouts. That’s when he decided to turn his attention towards Veerabhadra’s grandson in Bhuloka. He believed Veerabhadra would come to him if he captured his grandson. So he finally decided to send out search parties comprising of sniffer-wolves, and a handful of Nisacharas to look for you. I think you probably know what happened after that. We only know that the Nisacharas never returned from the mission.”

  Murari didn’t know what to say.

  He couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to his grandfather.

  ✽✽✽

  Dvaadasha

  What’s the Bet?

  Murari could not sleep as he stared into the eternal darkness overhead. Whenever he tried closing his eyes, he kept picturing his friends getting butchered by the warriors. He was overcome with guilt for not being of any use to his friends. It was for his sake that they had agreed to make this perilous journey into Narakaloka.

  Why couldn’t I awaken my Siddhi like others? He wondered.

  Unable to shake the thoughts off his head, he decided to take a stroll outside. His eyes had adjusted well to the darkness that enveloped Narakaloka. He would have given up anything to see even a speck of sunlight. He couldn’t imagine how the inhabitants of Narakaloka had survived all their life in this darkness.

  He still couldn’t wrap his mind around the idea of the prophecy either.

  Deliver them from the eternal night – huh! Who’s going to deliver me from my plight? He wondered.

  Lost in his thoughts, he walked out of the dark cave. The Rakshasas were already fast asleep. They lay on the ground, huddled in small groups around the many bonfires, that kept them warm. They truly were living like nomads. He felt sad for them.

  “Can’t sleep?” a voice jerked his attention away, breaking his chain of thoughts.

  He turned towards the direction of the voice and saw Drona sitting by the fire, with a stick in hand. He walked over and sat down beside the old Rakshasa.

  “Why aren’t you sleeping?” Murari asked Drona.

  “I am on guard duty tonight,” he answered.

  “Guard duty? Why?”

  “One can never be too careful. We never know when Nisacharas would get a hold of our location and launch an ambush. One of us stays up every night to guard the rest of us.”

  Murari sighed softly and turned his gaze towards the fire.

  “What’s keeping you up?” Drona asked.

  “I keep thinking about my friends and my teacher,” Murari said, without looking up. “Now that I know what kind of monsters the Nisacharas are, I can’t help but worry about them.”

  Drona could see sadness flickering in the reflection of the fire in Murari’s eyes.

  “Why did you come to Narakaloka?” Drona asked.

  Murari hesitated for a moment, before deciding to trust the old Rakshasa with the truth behind his journey.

  “I came here looking for Vanaphala.”

  “Oh!” Drona gasped. “How do you know about Vanaphala?”

  Murari dismally told him about his failure to awaken Siddhi and the events that followed, leading up to the battle with the warriors of Balaloka.

  Drona’s body increasingly tensed up as Murari narrated his story.

  “Hmm…You have had quite a journey.” Drona said, prodding the bonfire with the stick in his hand. “I wonder what happened to Veerabhadra. But it’s good to know that you are under the tutelage of your grandfather’s trusted aide.”

  “Yeah, but now I am not sure what to do,” Murari said.

  They spent the next few moments in silence. Drona occasionally prodded the twigs that fell out of the fire. Murari felt his eyelids get heavier with each passing moment before he finally gave in and closed his eyes, lying down beside the old Rakshasa.

  A loud thump woke him up. Still sleepy, Murari squinted his eyes to look around and identify the source of the sound. He saw all the Rakshasas were already up and w
ere going about their routine just like any other day. He looked at the bunch of logs lying few metres away from him, and two Rakshasas bent over it, untying the ropes from around it. He sat up groggily, wishing he could sleep a little longer. It wasn’t like anyone was stopping him, but he did not wish to sleep in the middle of an open field, while the Rakshasas all around him went about their routine.

  He looked around and saw the elders of the council discussing something animatedly at the far end of the field, by the boulders. There seemed to be some sort of disagreement between Drona and the rest of the council members, while the chief Rakshasi quietly observed without participating in whatever they were debating over.

  “Have you come from the Loka of light?” a squeaky voice tore his attention away from the council of Rakshasas.

  Murari stretched to look behind him and noticed a little Rakshasi bent on her knees, looking at him curiously, her hair had been plaited and coiled at the back of her head, in line with the little horns protruding on either side of her forehead.

  Murari nodded.

  “What’s your name?” he asked her.

  “Durga. What’s yours?”

  “Murari! Please come here,” Drona called him from the distance.

  Murari smiled at Durga, before getting up and walking towards the area where all older Rakshasas were gathered.

  “Tell us, why do you seek Vanaphala?” thundered Bhrihu, as soon as Murari was within hearing distance.

  Murari now understood what the topic of discussion was. Drona had ostensibly told the council about Murari’s predicament to help him secure the fruit to awaken his Siddhi.

  Bhrihu seemed against the idea. Murari ensured he stood as far from him as he could. He did not wish to irk the Rakshasa without reason.

  He looked at Drona, who nodded, urging him to speak.

  “I seek Vanaphala to try and awaken my Siddhi,” he said.

  “Why does a weakling like you wish to awaken Siddhi?” Bhrihu said, refusing to back down.

  Anger surged within Murari as he glared at Bhrihu. He had had enough of the Rakshasa’s dissent.

  “Oi – Watch your words, old man. Who are you calling a weakling?” he said. “I can take you on even without awakening my Siddhi.”

  The words came pouring out of Murari’s mouth, like lava bursting out of the top of a mountain.

  Hearing his words, Drona smiled. There was a hint of a smile on the face of chief Rakshasi as well, but it was impossible to tell due to her wrinkles.

  “Oh, you seem confident in your strength. Why don’t we make a bet then?” Bhrihu said, seething from Murari’s response.

  “What bet?” Murari asked.

  “I will propose a trial to test your strength and will. If you manage to pass the test, we will reward you with Vanaphala. But if you lose, then you will have to take ten lashes from my whip, and go away from here.” Bhrihu said.

  “Bhrihu, he’s a child.” Drona protested. “Don’t you think that’s a little…”

  “I accept.” Murari cut in, interrupting Drona mid-sentence.

  “Murari, don’t be brash,” Drona said. “This condition is insane. You don’t even know what the challenge is.”

  “I don’t care,” Murari said, unflinching. “I am ready to take on any of his challenges to prove myself.”

  “Very well then,” Bhrihu said. “I want you to enter the wild jungle and bring back the head of Sarpa, the snake that’s responsible for the dwindling number of animals in the jungle.”

  “Bhrihu!” The chief of Rakshasi shouted. “Have you lost your mind? You will send a child into the wild jungle to hunt for Sarpa when even the Nisacharas refuse to face it.”

  “Kali, I have merely put forth my challenge as per the condition of the bet,” Bhrihu said. “The choice to accept or deny the challenge lies with Murari.”

  “Your challenge is too much for a child to take, I won’t allow you to send an innocent child to his death,” Kali said.

  “Only moments back you were telling me that this puny kid is the child of prophecy, and his arrival marks the end of our misery, and yet here you are, asking me to reconsider a simple challenge to test his skills,” Bhrihu said. “You expect me to hand over the only Vanaphala we managed to save from Kirmira’s raid to this boy without even knowing if he is worthy of it?”

  “I accept your challenge,” Murari said.

  Everyone turned their gaze towards him.

  “Murari, don’t be hasty,” Kali said.

  “I have made up my mind,” Murari said resolutely.

  The old Rakshasas couldn’t help but admire Murari’s unwavering courage.

  “Looks like you have made up your mind,” Bhrihu said. “In that case, follow me.”

  Bhrihu walked away from the council, and towards the entrance to the wild jungle, with Murari and the rest of the council following closely.

  Seeing them walking towards the jungle, the rest of the Rakshasas stopped what they were doing.

  “Karapa, Gotha come here,” Bhrihu called out to the two Rakshasas who were dragging the heavy logs earlier.

  Obeying him, the two Rakshasas joined them by the edge of the jungle.

  “You will lead Murari up to the great pond. Light up a Mashaal, and wait for him by the pond till the fire runs out. If he hasn’t returned by then, you can come back.” the old Rakshasa instructed.

  Karapa and Gotha nodded in acknowledgement. The Rakshasas never questioned the commands of the elders.

  “Murari – before you go, I think you will need this.” Drona brought out a dark scabbard from the folds of his Angavastram. “We found it on you when we brought you here.”

  Murari was elated to hold his sword again. He unsheathed it and held it in his hands, inspecting it against the light from the bonfire.

  The black marks of rust that weren’t much evident earlier, were now covering the blade in almost its entirety. It was as if the sword was on its last leg of life and would break apart any moment. For a flickering moment, Murari wondered why he had to choose a dying sword when he could have chosen much better weapons when he was presented with the choice. Had his Eye of Indriya failed him somehow?

  Murari thanked Drona and turned around to follow Karapa and Gotha into the jungle. The two Rakshasas did not speak much. They occasionally glanced over their shoulders to make sure Murari was following closely. The woods in this part of the jungle weren’t as dense as Dvaitavana. But the darkness within the jungle made it difficult to see beyond the perimeter of light shed by the two burning mashaals held by the Rakshasas.

  Soon, they reached a clearing that marked the edge of the jungle. Before his eyes could see the great pond, Murari heard the deafening sound of waterfall pounding against the surface of the pond mercilessly.

  The two Rakshasas halted abruptly, making way for Murari to pass. Without saying a word, one of the Rakshasas pointed towards the other side of the jungle and handed a Mashaal to Murari.

  Shaking his thoughts off, Murari took the Mashaal from the Rakshasa and walked out of the jungle, making his way towards the other side of the pond.

  As he crossed into the wild jungle, he knew it was time to get serious. Even though he had accepted the bet on spur of the moment, irked by Bhrihu’s provocations, he knew failure meant death.

  His senses were on high alert, heightened by the adrenaline coursing through his body. He had his sword out, ready to swing it in the direction of any movement he might sense. He proceeded cautiously into the dark forest. Occasionally he would hear the shrill creaking noise of crickets around him. Every time he heard the leaves rustle, he would halt, cocking his head to listen to any hint of movement. As he progressed, the sounds of crickets faded. Instead of the fallen dry leaves, Murari noticed that the ground ahead was covered in a thick gooey solution that slowed his movement, making it difficult to walk faster. A piercing silence descended upon the jungle.

  Murari’s left ear twitched as it caught a faint hint of movement up ahead. Murari paused, s
tretching his hand that held the Mashaal as far as it could. The sound became more and more apparent as it neared. Something was fast approaching. Murari gripped his sword tighter in anticipation, as his breathing became heavier, a drop of sweat ran down the back of his ear. Suddenly, the sound muted and changed the course. He could now sense movement all around him, as if a beast was circling his position, preparing to attack.

  Murari steadied his stance.

  Just then, a giant snake with pearly white scales came tearing through the cover of darkness, its body as broad as a log of some mammoth tree.

  Murari looked like a helpless rabbit in front of the predator, as he jumped to the side, managing to avoid the snake’s charge by a whisker. The Mashaal fell from his hand, and the fire fizzled out as it met the wet ground. The darkness of the wild jungle took over.

  The snake slithered into the darkness as swiftly as it had appeared. Murari looked around, seeing nothing. His palms were sweaty, making it difficult to get a good grip on his rusty sword. He heard the snake slither and hiss close by as it readied to launch itself at him again. Murari crouched low, anticipating the attack at any moment. The snake lurched at him with once again. This time, Murari wasn’t able to dive out of the way in time. Instead, he blocked the snake’s attack with his sword in front of him. Such was the force of the attack that he was blown off his feet and went crashing against a tree, before falling back onto the ground. A sharp pain shot through his entire body, as he stood up, leaning against the tree.

  He knew he stood no chance against the sneaky beast if the fight continued like this. He closed his eyes and brought his breathing under control, calming his senses as had been taught by Vajra. He could distinctly hear the beast dragging its body on the soppy floor of the jungle.

  Absorbing the energy from nature, Murari directed its flow towards his eyes. As he opened his eyes, he could see the silhouetted white outline of the trees around him. Slowly glancing around, he saw the monstrous form of Sarpa slithering towards him from his right. Murari waited with bated breath as he lifted his sword, tightening his grip on its hilt. As soon as the snake lurched at him with its fangs brandished, he stepped to his side and brought down his sword on the beast’s body. Sparks flew out as his sword failed to penetrate the hardened skin of Sarpa.