Shakti: The Feminine Divine (13 page)

However, the duo was steadfast in its resolve and would not be dissuaded. The brothers freely admitted that their debauched lifestyles had robbed them of the gift of children and as a result, they felt incomplete. By purifying themselves in the heat of extreme asceticism, they hoped to bring forth worthy heirs to perpetuate their line and achieve the great things their fathers never had.

Hundreds of years rolled by while they were engaged in the severest of penances. With single-minded purpose, they accelerated their endeavours to levels that few before them had dared. Karambha immersed himself in water that leached away at his body with its powerful elementary force, and Rambha stood amidst raging flames—the pancagni—allowing it to torture his flesh endlessly. By subjecting their bodies to the rigours of mortification, they hoped to quadruple their
combined efforts so that their heart’s desire might be granted quickly.

Word about the wondrous asura brothers reached Indra and he felt the dreaded disquiet stirring within him again, a somnambulant savage slowly stirring to life. He tried to dissuade them from their quest by subjecting them to every conceivable form of enticement, hoping that they would be seduced into forgetting about their ascetic efforts. But the brothers were inured to the charms of untold wealth and pleasures of the flesh because they had already had a surfeit of both.

Finally, Indra took the form of a massive crocodile and rushed to keep his appointment with destiny. Karambha was standing neck-deep in water at the time. The predator watched him for a long time with yellowed protuberant eyes that glistened with malice. Its deadly serrated teeth jutted out from a firmly clenched jaw.

Inching closer to its naked prey, the monster took in the emaciated frame, the sparse hair distributed over a bony chest, the knobbly knees and the pathetically shrivelled male organ, noting with a touch of amusement that the asura cut a ludicrous figure. Whichever brother this sad specimen was, he clearly had nothing to counter the animal’s reptilian speed, mandibles of death and armoured body. His sheer helplessness in the face of imminent danger filled the skulking squamate with contempt.

With a sudden movement that was quicker than thought, the gaping maw closed over an exposed limb, and latching onto it with deathly precision, the crocodile dragged Karambha into the deepest trenches of the waterbody, drowning him almost immediately. But it would never do to take chances, so Indra
tore into the corpse, mangling it past all recognition. Finally nothing was left save a trace of pink froth, which rose to the surface, the little bubbles glinting briefly before disappearing forever.

Rambha was lost in meditation while Karambha was being murdered. For hundreds of years, he had been lost to the worlds, but his heart had beat as one with his brother’s. Nothing could break his concentration, but when his sibling breathed his last, Rambha was sucked into the land of the living, the meditative calm he had painstakingly acquired shattered with the iron certainty that his brother was no more. Torrential anguish poured forth from his lips in a primeval howl. The flames he had surrounded himself with performed a macabre dance, set to the music of his infernal wailing. The brothers had been so close that Rambha could actually relive the final moments of Karambha’s life and feel the supernatural crocodile tearing into his flesh with murderous intent, as well as the unrelenting pain that had hastened death.

The mighty asura sobbed like a heartbroken child and prayed for death, unable to go on without Karambha. He wept at the injustice of it all. The brothers had never wanted Indra’s stupid throne or whatever it was he imagined they were after. In their slice of the world, they were the supreme sovereigns, and they had been fully content. Neither had wished to rule over the celestials who thought themselves so superior, when they were nothing more than a bunch of perfumed pansies. Rambha and Karambha had only wished to beget heirs to whom they could someday hand over the reins of their kingdom and atone for their sins, before departing from an accursed world, where pleasure and pain alike led to nothing but sorrow.

Now, Karambha had lost his life over a foolish dream. It was a blessing that he had left no issue behind. At least the unborn child would not be forced to endure the grief of a miserable existence. As the tears flowed unchecked, Rambha decided that he did not want a son either, because Karambha would never be able to have one.

Demented with sorrow, he tore at his wrists with his teeth like a rabid hound, deciding to share his brother’s fate. Blood spilled forth from the lacerations he had inflicted and the flames lapped them up greedily. The bereaved brother closed his eyes and waited for the blessed embrace of death.

Agni, the lord of the flames, had witnessed all and could take no more. Emerging from the blaze, he grabbed Rambha’s wrists to arrest the flow of blood, before restoring them with his healing touch. Only then did Agni speak, ‘Please do not do this! It is bad enough that your brother has died; do not compound the tragedy by taking your own life. Killing yourself is a worse crime than killing another. Don’t stoop to such desperate measures, especially when you have worked so hard to redeem yourself. It does not make sense to throw away your brother’s sacrifice and your life in one sweep, fuelled solely by emotional instability. Karambha would have wanted you to see this task all the way to the end and it behoves you to honour his wishes.

‘There is so much for you to live for, even if you do not realize it. Do not give up on life—I promise that there is plenty of happiness in store for you. The long years you have devoted to the pursuit of asceticism have not been in vain and it is well within my purview to offer you any boon that you desire. Dry your tears, calm your senses, gather together your scattered wits and ask of me what you will!’

Agni’s kindness was an opiate for his injured spirit and Rambha rallied himself, marshalling his thoughts for the moment Karambha and he had longed for and worked so hard to achieve. ‘The lord of fire would make a much better king than the storm lord,’ he thought, as a dull ache continued to throb in his heart. It was no longer possible for him to join his brother in death, since Agni’s words had set him straight. But that did not mean he could not avenge Karambha’s death and bring some meaning into his empty life, which stretched out ahead of him, a desolate wasteland that had little to offer.

Rambha took a few moments more to steady himself and when he spoke, his words rang with the strength of his conviction, ‘Thank you for convincing me that there is goodness still in the three worlds and for the boon you have offered to me. You have saved my life and I hope the kindness you did me is repaid a hundredfold and protects you from all evil.

‘As for me, I would like an invincible son, strong as a million bulls. He should be the perfect specimen of masculinity and the mightiest warrior who ever lived. A billion Indras could never hope to equal his prowess and you yourself should fall short before his brilliance. In battle, I want him to be unconquerable—no god or man should be able to prevail over him. Deva and asura alike must be forced to bend to his will when he goes forth to conquer the three worlds and sit on the throne of heaven!’

Agni thought of what Indra would say if he were to grant this wish, which was all but guaranteed to strip the lord of the heavens of his powers and the devas of their exalted status. He hesitated for the tiniest of moments. ‘But then again, it is the storm lord who has brought grief to us all,’ he thought
defiantly, ‘and why should I take the blame for his perfidy?’

Rambha and Karambha had renounced worldly pleasures and had troubled no one. If the king of the devas had done them a grave injustice by killing an unarmed, defenceless man, did it not fall to his fellow celestials to make amends? Moreover, he had made a promise to Rambha, sanctified by the holy fires more dear to him than life itself, and so the wish would be granted.

Fully rid of his doubt, Agni pronounced, ‘You will have the son you want! He will be begotten by the woman who wins your heart and restores happiness to you. It will all come to be as you wished. Go now in peace!’

Rambha fell at Agni’s feet and bathed them with tears of joy. Having received his blessings he made his departure, flushed with triumph, having achieved the twin goals of begetting a mighty son and an instrument who would avenge Karambha’s death. Agni was happy to have helped ease him past his bereavement. He knew he had done the right thing, but was far from euphoric. Resignedly, he geared himself up for the ugly spat with Indra that was in the offing.

Sure enough, the king of the heavens was infuriated with Agni for undoing all his hard work and granting a boon that spelt the destruction of the devas. They had a spectacular row over it and said many terrible things to each other. Indra accused Agni of being jealous of him and treacherously betraying his brethren. The latter blamed the former for imperilling everything they held dear by being an unapologetic poltroon, adding that if anyone was a traitor it was Indra himself, whose uncontrolled avarice and ego had brought them all to the precipice of a great disaster. They threw themselves into a bout of fisticuffs and had to be dragged apart before they
tore each other to pieces.

Panting with fury and sporting a darkening bruise on his cheekbone, where Agni’s fist had connected, Indra yelled at the offender, ‘You are a bigger moron than we all thought, if you genuinely believe that your sanctimonious arse will be spared the grievous trouble you have brought to our doorstep. Do you seriously think Rambha’s brat is going to kiss your backside for the touching kindness you demonstrated? He will kill you without a moment’s pause, because even black-hearted villains have no use for quisling little weasels such as yourself.

‘Don’t pat yourself on the back yet for the monumental act of compassion you performed today by saving that rat bastard, Rambha! My wrath will catch up with him, no matter where he goes or how many unworthy boons he wrangles from imbeciles. By the time I am done with him, he will be ruing the day Agni, the idiot of infinite proportions, counselled him not to kill himself !’

Agni angrily shook off the hands that were holding him in check. He saw no reason for the devas to treat him the way they would a ferocious dog. Defiantly he held Indra’s gaze for a long moment with nary a sign of contrition. It would have been easy to insist on having the last word by pointing out that even a monarch had to answer for his crimes. That it was only the despicably craven who killed a loyal subject’s son and their chosen guru in cold blood or dragged an unsuspecting ascetic immersed in tapas to a watery grave. That all the oceans in the world could not cleanse the stain he had left on the collective honour of the devas. That thanks to him, they had lost the precious respect and standing they had long enjoyed, and that he had heralded the end of a glorious epoch. But he said none of these things, opting instead to simply walk out of the sabha
with his head held high and his dignity intact. For who knew better than him the imprudence of adding fuel to an already raging fire?

While Indra and Agni were engaged in their heated altercation, where each was fully convinced that the other had crossed the line beyond the point of no return, Rambha was homeward bound.

The lord of fire had also told him that he would lose his heart to somebody amazing, who would be the mother of his child. Anticipation put a spring in his step and he could not resist fantasizing a little about the captivating damsel who was destined to make all his dreams come true.

While Rambha’s head was tuned towards romance, Indra was alternatively fuming and fulminating. He had meant every word he had said to Agni and was determined to foil the asura’s plan to beget an issue who was destined to overthrow his reign and absolutely wreck his life. Summoning Kama, the god of desire, he barked out a series of stern commands, his tone making it clear that he would brook no argument. He stressed that time was of the essence and insisted that his royal decree be carried out immediately, if not sooner.

Kama assented, although if his friend had been less bellicose and less inclined to impale dissidents, he would have counselled him not to aggravate a situation that was already unravelling faster than anybody cared for. But he said nothing and hurried to do his duty by his beloved king, sorry that things had gone so badly for all of them.

Consequently, thanks to the efforts of the god of desire, Rambha found himself enamoured of a she-buffalo that he had accidentally stumbled upon. She was waddling up the path with her splayed hoofs when the sunlight bounced off the crescent
tip of her ribbed horn and caught his eye. In that instant, he was absolutely smitten.

As far as he was concerned, there was nothing in the three worlds to match the beauty of her exquisitely bovine features, the black hair that covered her mud-spattered back or the dirty white socks that rose up from her hoofs, which according to him gave her a very dainty and elegant appearance. But it was her enormous brown eyes, tipped with impossibly long lashes, that truly captivated him, for in their hypnotically swirling depths he saw that the object of his love reciprocated his feelings.

Watching them, Kama knew that Indra would be pleased, but he wished he could say the same for himself. The she-buffalo seemed to be gentle and placid. They were sure to derive plenty of happiness from each other and surely that counted for something? But Kama knew he was merely trying to placate a troubled conscience. He had gone against his better judgement and become instrumental in triggering a catastrophe of epic proportions. He was sorrier than he had ever been. Not that it did anybody, including himself, any good.

The asura prince and the she-buffalo, victims of the flower-tipped arrows, became inseparable. They communed endlessly in the language of love and the days merged into each other in a haze of pure ecstasy. Agni had been right—in her company, the bereavement that had almost killed Rambha melted away into the distant past, and he rediscovered his joy for living. He could not recall a time when he had been happier.