The Journey Beyond Bhuloka

by Krutant Iyer

  Murari jumped further away from the snake, as it turned around and bared its fangs at him. Though his counterattack had failed to even make a scratch on the beast’s tough scales, Sarpa was visibly livid by the resistance it faced from its prey.

  Sarpa coiled its body on its tail, rose in form as it did, till the beast was as tall as the trees in the jungle.

  “You dare to raise your weapon on me!” The beast boomed.

  Murari was taken aback upon hearing the snake speak.

  “You can talk?” He shouted, making no efforts to mask his amazement.

  “Fool! Who do you take me for? Of course, I can.” Sarpa hissed.

  “That’s amazing! I never met a beast who could talk.” Murari said.

  He was amazed by the talking snake absolutely forgetting the situation he was in.

  “You do not seem like you belong to this Loka. Where do you come from?” The snake asked irately.

  “I come from Bhuloka. My name is Murari. Nice to meet you!” Murari smiled goofily.

  Sarpa narrowed its eyes.

  “It doesn’t matter where you come from, you puny creature. No being has ever escaped my embrace. Make no mistake, the moment I get hold of you, I will squeeze your life out from your body, before devouring you whole.”

  “Well, it works out for both of us then. I too have come here to kill you.” Murari said.

  “You think you can take my head with that pathetic weapon of yours?” the snake hissed.

  “Stop running away and you can find out for yourself.” Murari mocked Sarpa.

  Maddened by his words, the snake dove towards him baring its fangs as it did. Murari jumped away in nick of time, avoiding the beast’s attack.

  “Is that all you can do?” he said.

  No sooner had he spoken the words; the snake swung its long tail at him with such a force that Murari was sent flying through the woods, before crashing on a tree and falling with a thud. Fortunately, he had managed to block the hit with his sword, but regrettably, his sword now showed signs of cracks after bearing the brunt of the snake’s attack.

  Blood came gushing out of a deep cut on Murari’s right eyebrow, flowing over his eye, blocking his vision. Murari wiped the blood off the back of his hand as he shook his head to clear the dizziness. His breath came in short spurts, as he tried to stand up, but fell on his knees as soon as he did. He was on brink of collapsing, holding onto his consciousness by sheer grit and willpower.

  Using the tree’s trunk to support himself, Murari somehow managed to stand up leaning against the huge tree he had crashed into. He held his sword loosely in one hand.

  Is this where I am going to die? He wondered. If only I had more power…

  He looked up and saw Sarpa slithering towards him, coming to finish him off.

  He held his sword low this time. Even though he knew by now that his sword was ineffective against the snake’s hardened scales, he wished to go down swinging his weapon one last time.

  “Boy, your penchant for risk is quite tempting.” A voice spoke to Murari.

  A faint black glow appeared around his sword, quite similar to when he had first held it in his hands.

  “Did I just hear the sword talk to me?” Murari said to himself, even as he shook his head, wondering how hard had he hit his head to be seeing and hearing such things.

  “If you have the tenacity to wield my power, I am willing to lend it to you.” The voice spoke again.

  This time Murari was sure the voice was coming from within his sword.

  “How can a sword speak?” he asked, stunned.

  “Now’s not the time for questions. You need to decide if you want my powers or not.” The voice said.

  Murari saw Sarpa changing course and going around his position like the beast had been doing before all its attacks.

  “Of course, I need your power,” Murari said.

  It wasn’t like it was going to get worse than his present situation.

  “Very well. Direct the natural energy you have harnessed into me through your hands, and call out my name.”

  “Your name? I don’t know your name.” Murari said, as his eyes followed Sarpa’s movement.

  “A true swordsman never wields a nameless sword. You picked me; hence you have the right to name me as well.”

  Murari gathered the natural energy around him and channelized it through his hands into the sword. At the same time Sarpa, who had been circling his position, hissed loudly as it charged towards Murari.

  “Call my name.” The sword said.

  “Nandaka!” Murari yelled, as he mustered all his remaining strength, and lifted the sword high above his head.

  Black flame came gushing out of the sword, which spread out and enveloped Murari’s body as well, making him one with his weapon.

  As Sarpa bared its sharp fangs, Murari’s felt his body getting lighter.

  He ducked to avoid the snake’s venomous fangs, and skilfully slashed his sword upwards, but did not feel the weapon connect with the snake’s body.

  Murari glanced over his shoulder and saw the snake lying motionless a few paces away.

  He waited for a few moments, anticipating the snake to turn around and attack him anytime, but he was suddenly overcome with tremendous exhaustion and collapsed on the ground, losing consciousness as the dark flames surrounding his body dissipated.

  Opening his eyes, Murari couldn’t see anything in the darkness. His head throbbed with pain. As he ran his fingers over the cut on his right eyebrow, he felt the familiar cold slimy paste on it.

  Murari stretched to look to his side and saw a flicker of light at a distance. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he realised he was back at the campsite of the Rakshasa.

  Murari slowly got up and stretched his hands and legs. Except for the few scratch marks on his torso and his upper arms, which still ached from being rammed into the tree, he felt as good as ever.

  He didn’t recollect walking back to the Rakshasa camp. How did he get back here?

  That old Rakshasa will not let go of this chance to ridicule me. He wondered, knowing he had failed the challenge.

  As these thoughts raced through his mind, Murari stepped out of the cave’s mouth.

  The children of Rakshasas came running towards Murari, as soon as they saw him. Their eyes were twinkling with anticipation as one of them said, “Please tell us how you did it.”

  Murari could not understand what the children were referring to.

  “That’s enough kids.” Drona’s voice rang out from behind the children. “He has still not recovered completely, so don’t trouble him.”

  The children dismally obeyed Drona’s command and went back to playing in the field.

  “How are you feeling now?” Drona asked Murari.

  “Surprisingly good,” Murari answered. “How did I end up back here?”

  “You don’t remember anything?” Drona asked.

  Murari shook his head.

  “Karapa and Gotha found you unconscious on the floor of the jungle, with Sarpa’s severed body lying a little distance away from you.”

  Murari was stunned. He could clearly remember that his sword had not connected with the beast’s body, and yet Drona was telling him that they found Sarpa’s severed body lying near him.

  How is this possible? He wondered.

  He saw Bhrihu walking towards him, followed closely by the rest of the elders.

  “I have never been happier on losing a bet,” Bhrihu said, his wrinkled face was brimming with smile.

  “But you won. I could not bring back the snake’s severed head.” Murari said dejectedly.

  “Bah! – who cares about the details. As far as the bet is concerned, you killed Sarpa and that’s as good as winning.” Bhrihu beamed.

  Murari could not understand the old Rakshasa. The last time they had spoken, the old Rakshasa had left no opportunity to ridicule Murari, and yet somehow, he seemed to have turned over a new leaf.

  “Does that mean I
can have the Vanaphala? Murari asked.

  “Of course, you can,” Bhrihu said.

  Murari was pleasantly surprised with the change in Bhrihu’s demeanour towards him.

  “Come with me,” Drona said, as he led Murari towards the edge of the jungle. “Don’t worry about Bhrihu. He only has the welfare of our people in his mind. There’s a good reason for his resistance earlier.”

  “What’s that?” Murari asked as he followed Drona.

  “Before Nishada became obsessed with obtaining all the fragments of the map to Devaloka, he was a good King to us. His forefathers had entrusted the duty of protecting the Kamyaka jungle and the precious fruits it bore, to our clan.” Drona said, without breaking a step. “But then things took a turn for the worse. When Kirmira took the throne, he had his own nefarious ambitions. He sent a troop of Nisacharas to raid the Kamyaka jungle and took away all the Dipakaphalas and Vanaphalas from the jungle for reasons we don’t know.”

  “I know about Vanaphala, but I have never heard of Dipakaphala?” Murari asked.

  Drona stopped at the edge of the jungle.

  “In a land devoid of Sun’s light, Dipakaphala lit up Narakaloka with its brilliance. It is one of the eternal fruits that never dies, and keeps the darkness at bay.”

  Murari was amazed that a fruit could have such a power.

  “This dark jungle surrounding us was once lit by the brilliance of the Dipakaphala and was full of life from the energy provided by the Vanaphala,” Drona said.

  His eyes were moist with sadness.

  “You mean, this jungle was…”

  “Yes. This is the Kamyaka, the jungle of eternal fruits.” Drona said. “It has plunged into darkness ever since the fruits were stolen by Kirmira’s Nisacharas.”

  Murari finally understood why the Rakshasas had not moved further away from the Kingdom’s capital. They had lived in these forests their entire life, and didn’t want to stay far from it.

  “We couldn’t save the fruits when the Nisacharas were raiding the jungle, as we didn’t have enough manpower to stand up to Nisacharas. But we managed to save one Vanaphala and one Dipakaphala. The Dipakaphala helps us light the fire in the camp, while this Vanaphala is the last of its kind.”

  Drona brought out a golden fruit from his Angavastram.

  Even though the fruit looked like a regular pear, the fragrance emanating from it was irresistibly aromatic.

  “We never dared to plant the fruit again for the fear of the Nisacharas. Protecting this fruit was not only our duty but our life’s purpose. But we failed to do so.” Drona looked disconsolately at the fruit.

  “You should plant it,” Murari said.

  “We can’t. Didn’t I just tell you…”

  “I know you did. But if this fruit is capable of bringing life back into this desolate jungle, I do not wish to waste it on awakening my Siddhi.”

  “But then, you will never be able to awaken your Siddhi,” Drona said.

  “Doesn’t matter. I will train hard and get strong on my own.”

  “I don’t understand…” Drona seemed puzzled by Murari’s refusal to accept the fruit.

  “Don’t worry about it. Now I just wish to find and save my friends and my Teacher and find the portal that leads out of Narakaloka.”

  “That would be difficult,” Drona said.

  “Why?”

  “All the portals leading in or out of Narakaloka are being closely guarded by the Nisacharas. Except for the great pond, all the portals in Narakaloka lie within the expanse of Kirmira’s capital city. You won’t be able to get in there as you are easily distinguishable.”

  Murari scratched his head, pondering over his dilemma.

  “There you are! I have been looking all over for you.” A voice came through the darkness of the jungle.

  Murari and Drona squinted to see who it was, as they took a precautious step back.

  Murari heard the familiar thump of lathi, followed closely by footsteps, as Vajra emerged from the dark covers of the jungle.

  ✽✽✽

  Trayodasha

  An Unbreakable Pact

  All the Rakshasas had gathered around the arc of boulders, the meeting place of the elder Rakshasas. Vajra was sitting on one of the boulders, while the other older Rakshasas took their seats on the other boulders. Drona and Murari were standing with the rest of the Rakshasas, listening intently to Vajra’s account of events.

  “I sent everyone ahead of me into the portal.” Vajra recounted. “By the time I came here, you guys were nowhere to be found. I made my way into the capital city under disguise. It wasn’t until I reached the marketplace that I got to know about the Nisacharas having captured some Manavas from Bhuloka. I heard they were holding them in the dungeon within Kirmira’s castle.”

  “What?” Murari was shocked to learn the fate that had befallen his friends.

  “Yes – but that’s not all. While I was still in the market, a crier from Kirmira’s court made an announcement in the market square.”

  “What announcement?” Murari asked.

  “Kirmira is going to execute them publicly,” Vajra said.

  Murari’s veins constricted, as he clenched his fists tightly.

  “I made my way towards Kirmira’s fortress. A huge field lies between the fortress and the marketplace. I tried getting as close as I could without being detected. Using Touch of Indriya, I managed to track where our friends were being held. I could immediately sense Ballu, Raaka, and Mitra’s Siddhi. All three of them, including the pirates, have been bundled into the same cell. But I couldn’t feel your energy there.

  Just then, I sensed a massive surge in energy coming from outside the perimeters of the capital city.

  I wondered who was capable of releasing such an enormous force of Siddhi in Narakaloka.

  The surge lasted for quite a while. I could vaguely trace the location of the energy to the jungle. But before I could reach there, the vibrations stopped suddenly.

  I continued walking in the direction I was already on, hoping to identify the source of the energy surge. That’s when I came upon the lifeless body of the giant snake.

  As I stood there wondering who could have killed the powerful beast, I sensed a lot of movement from this side of the jungle using my Indriya. That’s how I was able to find you.” Vajra said.

  “I am glad that you are okay.” Vajra smiled weakly, looking at Murari.

  “Kirmira has become a monster,” Bhrihu said.

  “Ever since the prophecy was made, Kirmira has become dubious, and his actions are even more spiteful,” Kali said. “He intends to execute your friends in public to prove the prophecy wrong.”

  “I won’t let him kill them,” Murari said, seething with rage.

  “It’s not that simple,” Vajra said. “The fortress is heavily guarded by the Nisacharas. Also, the walls are unscalable, and a moat lies just outside the inner gate of the fortress, so we can forget digging our way in.”

  “I don’t care,” Murari said. “I won’t allow the Nisacharas to kill my friends. They came here for me, and now they are in trouble. I will rescue them by using any means necessary.”

  “Murari, I understand your sentiment, but Vajra is right. Forget breaking into the fortress, the moment we are seen anywhere near the capital’s outer gate, the Nisacharas will be onto us like wolves.” Drona said.

  “There might be a way to save your friends,” Kali spoke for the first time since Vajra finished narrating his account of the events.

  “What do you mean?” Vajra asked, turning towards her.

  “Knowing Kirmira, he will want to turn this execution into a grand affair. There’s only one place large enough to accommodate a scaffold for such a ceremony – the open field that lies beyond the marketplace and stretches all the way up to the castle’s gate.” Kali said.

  “Before your friends are brought onto the platform, he will most likely come out to address the gathering, to impress upon them the falsity of the prophecy. We
need to somehow use this opportunity to rescue your friends. Once the Nisacharas bring them out of the fortress, we won’t stand a chance against the army of Nisacharas, and Kirmira himself.”

  Everyone listened to their chief in hushed silence.

  “But that’s a dangerous proposition, and we don’t even know if it will work,” Bhrihu said.

  “There’s only one way to find out,” Drona said. “We need to enter the capital.”

  “How do you propose we do that?” Vajra asked.

  “The same way that you did,” Drona said readily. “Under disguise.”

  It was decided that Drona and Vajra would first go and scout the city, while the rest of the Rakshasas made other preparations to move. Murari was forced to stay back and get some rest, as the wounds he had sustained from his fight with Sarpa had not completely healed yet.

  Murari reluctantly stood at the mouth of the dark cave, watching Drona and Vajra disappear into the darkness of the jungle.

  Even though he wished to join them, he knew he needed to recover as soon as possible. He was also, in a way, glad to be left alone, as there was one other thing that had been eating at him, which he wanted to check.

  He sat on the ground, leaning against the far wall of the dark cave while staring at his sword.

  His eyes had gotten accustomed to the darkness of the cave.

  He slowly unsheathed the sword and kept the scabbard on the ground. Somehow, the sword seemed blacker than the darkness of its surrounding.

  What kind of sword is this? He wondered.

  Even though others believed it was Murari who had killed Sarpa, he knew the truth to be different.

  He was completely at the mercy of the snake all the time, and yet somehow, he had emerged victorious.

  The only thing that he was sure about was that his sword had spoken to him. But how could it be? No one had ever heard of a speaking sword or any other speaking object for that matter.