Shakti: The Feminine Divine (14 page)

The great love they shared filled him with awe and profound peace. He wanted nothing more than to wander the three worlds with her by his side forever. But soon Rambha’s chosen mate became pregnant and he took the decision to take
her back to his kingdom in Patala and his kinsmen, the danavas, so that she may deliver their child in safety and comfort. Their son was born to rule the three worlds and it was in his interest that Rambha made haste to return to the throne he had abandoned.

A lot had changed since Rambha and Karambha had traded pleasure for penance. The danavas had not laid eyes on him for long years and had long given him up for dead. The sight of the dishevelled creature striding in with such a regal bearing filled them with superstitious dread. They listened to his amazing story and there were many who recognized their prince, although they could not be sure that he was not returned from beyond the crematory ashes.

Bizarre tales had been doing the rounds about the manner in which the brothers had been slain and the danavas were happy to get the truth from one of the scions of their ruling asura family, who had been returned to them. When Rambha told them how Karambha had been treacherously murdered by Indra, they wept with him and swore retribution.

Uneasy as their acceptance of the prince was, they were even less thrilled when they found out about his new bride. She first came to their attention when a stable hand attempted to tether her with the other buffaloes. Her husband was furious and threw a jealous fit when he found her trying to fend off an amorous male buffalo, which was nuzzling her neck. The incident became the talk of the kingdom and threatened to burgeon into quite the scandal.

Initially, many were still inclined to give the prodigal prince the benefit of the doubt, thinking that Rambha had got himself a pet to get over the loss of his beloved brother. The affection he publicly displayed for the bovine creature, that was
never far from his presence, seemed a bit excessive, though. While the kindlier among them thought it was just a case of anthropomorphism gone too far and possibly a throwback to the kinkiness he had embraced in the past, others had graver concerns. They noted with revulsion that he seemed to treat the she-buffalo like a wife, constantly fawning over her and fretting over her delicate condition.

‘We are happy to have you back, Prince Rambha!’ an ancient courtier addressed him in the company of a select few who had been asked to sound out the prince on the subject. The hour was late when the meeting to discuss the scandal was underway. ‘We feel that you should marry post-haste and produce many fine heirs to secure the succession. It is what your late father and our king would have wanted.’

‘I know why you are here,’ Rambha replied curtly, struggling to keep his temper in check, ‘but it is in your best interests not to discuss marriage with me. I already have the perfect wife and she is carrying my son in her womb. He is the child of a prophecy and will rule over the three worlds.’

‘Surely you are not referring to that four-legged creature and her bastard calf ?’ exclaimed Survasa, the royal regent, with icy disdain. ‘I hope for the sake of Your Highness that we misunderstood and it is not your intention to put an inter-species abomination, bred on forbidden passion and unspeakable debauchery, on the throne. Such depraved talk would force us to conclude that your brains have been well and truly addled.’

‘Survasa! You are demented if you think you can dare to address me in that impudent manner and get away with it. Why are you being so petty and mean-spirited? If only you knew about the sacrifices made by Karambha and me for the sake
of this special child! How can you not see that my unborn son holds the key to our salvation?’

‘And how can you not see that such talk is the prattling of a madman?’ Survasa bellowed at the king, all restraint forgotten. ‘I will die before allowing such infamy to tarnish the honour of the noble asuras. Even as we speak, my guards are waiting for me to say the word, upon which they will slay that monstrous creature and flay the hide off its back to serve as a lesson for foolish princelings who seek to make fools of themselves over nasty, dung-dropping, mud-spattered bovines!’

Everything happened quickly after that. Rambha’s long-dormant anger was aroused. He unleashed a tempest of fury on the dozen courtiers who were themselves simmering over his transgression. With a single stroke of his curved sword, he severed Survasa’s neck and even before it hit the floor, his sword rose and fell with rhythmic precision until every one of his antagonists lay dead or writhing with pain at his feet, while blood gushed merrily over the grisly scene.

Without pausing to cleanse himself of the remnants of the fallen that coated his person, Rambha rushed outside into the gloom to rescue his wife and son before all was lost.

He decided they must flee to the abode of the yaksas, believed to be the attendants of Kubera, who were famed for their tolerance. They would throw themselves at the feet of Malayaksa, their benevolent king, and beg him to protect their unborn child.

Rambha was no longer the rampaging fighter but an anxious husband and father-to-be. His heart was in his mouth during the entire course of their perilous journey. Because of the advanced stage of the buffalo’s pregnancy, their pace was hampered and they could not travel as quickly as he wished.
His own people had turned on him and Rambha knew that he would not be forgiven for killing his own kinsmen over what, to their prejudiced eyes, was a mere buffalo.

Sure enough, the danavas pursued them in dead earnest. They must have divined his intentions to seek refuge with the yaksas, because they were hot on the couple’s heels and closing in by the second. Rambha shuddered to think of his dear one’s fate if they caught up with them. Refusing to dwell on the horrific thought, he made himself recall Agni’s words and used them to fortify himself.

‘Be brave, my beloved!’ he urged the petrified she-buffalo. ‘We are close to our deliverance. You must not lose hope. Our son will survive this! It has been promised!’ The ill-fated duo trudged on towards their destination, even as the deadly forces of the danavas converged on them, a short distance from their refuge.

Their cruel taunts, which rang loud in the lovers’ ears, as did the clashing of their weapons, goaded them to greater speed. ‘Monstrous wife of Rambha! We’d planned to capture you and pack you off to the breeding stables, where hundreds of buffaloes would await their turn to mount the royal consort, but we decided to kill you instead because you would enjoy their attentions too much!’

‘Pay no heed to them, my love, make haste to Malayaksa! I swear to you that I will not allow any harm to befall you or our son!’ Rambha murmured urgently, gently shoving her forward, shutting his ears to her piteous lowing. A volley of arrows descended on them from behind and one found its mark just below Rambha’s shoulder. He choked down the grunt of pain as he turned back to fend off his attackers for a precious few moments to buy his wife time.

The disgraced prince fought bravely, but he was desperately outnumbered and they cut him down all too soon. They would have made short work of the she-buffalo as well, but the sentries of the yaksas, on watch at the perimeters of the kingdom, had been alerted by the terrible sounds of the bloodbath and her heart-wrenching bellows. Appalled at the senseless cruelty of the asuras, they attacked the heartless miscreants and chased the interlopers away for daring to desecrate their hallowed land.

Rambha was dying and begged to be taken to Malayaksa. With the few breaths left in him, he told the king their story and pleaded with him to do everything he could to keep his family safe. Having extracted the promise he sought from the kindly monarch, Rambha breathed his last.

Meanwhile the she-buffalo had gone into labour, induced by her trauma. She delivered a beautiful son, who had been marked by destiny for greatness. Having achieved the purpose she had been born for, the mother of the mighty Mahisha, who would later become the scourge of the three worlds, opted to join her husband on the funeral pyre. She left her baby to fend for himself among the yaksas with nothing more than the gifts of nature’s bounty and the power of a boon that his father had lived and ultimately died for. As the flames consumed her, the new mother wished that she could have done more for her son. Before leaving him forever, she blessed the child, giving him the power to assume either his father’s or mother’s form as and when it suited him.

Rambha was dead by then, but even when his soul had sped along the unknown path where the living could not follow, he wanted to do more for his son. As the flames rose higher in enjoyment of the feast the lovers’ bodies provided
them, a terrifying spectre emerged from the epicentre of the terrible conflagration. It was the demon Raktabija, whose name meant ‘bloody seed’. He towered over the gathered yaksas, his powerful and fully developed physique seemingly hewed from granite, black as the ashes from whence he had emerged, reddish eyes taking in their measure before settling upon the baby it was his duty to protect.

Without a word, he picked up the infant in his trunk-like arms. His thick lips parted in a hideous grin of avuncular affection. The demon laughed aloud and the baby gurgled merrily from the depths of his arms, while the flames joined them with their cackling. All around, there were sounds of weeping.

Into the Savage Breast of the Beast

R
AMBHA HAD TRULY
believed that Mahisha, the child from a precious boon, would be instrumental in getting rid of Indra and ushering in a new era of peace and prosperity. In keeping with this fond wish, Mahisha did eventually depose Indra and sit on his throne. But none would thank him for delivering them from evil. Instead, their grief-stricken cries would rise up to the heavens, beseeching the powers that be to save them from his tyrannical regime and to restore Indra, their kindly king, to his rightful throne.

As a child, there were few indicators of Mahisha’s subsequent reign of terror, which would be characterized by widespread mass killings, brutality, garish displays of lucre and a pervasive environment of horror percolated through coldly calculated terror. His birth had been marred by blood-curdling violence. Even so, staying true to his promise, Malayaksa had
provided a stable and peaceable environment for Mahisha.

The child who would grow up to be the buffalo demon was a quiet, unusually good-looking infant with remarkable eyes, framed by lashes so thick as to make him appear effeminate. His pupils glowed amber whenever he became animated. This happened whenever he played with his beloved animals or was seated on Malayaksa’s lap, listening with rapt attention to the stories the aged king told him about his parents.

‘Tell me the story about the great escape, sire! Don’t leave anything out!’ he would implore the king of the yaksas, eyes alight with sparks of emotion. Malayaksa would ruffle the youngster’s hair with genuine affection, glad to see something other than dull detachment in those eyes.

‘You have made me repeat it so often that you probably know it better than I do, child!’ he would reply by way of a prelude before obliging him. ‘I am yet to meet a braver or nobler soul than your father. The love that blossomed between him and your mother was a rare and precious thing. Those damnable asuras who can’t see past the tip of their noses accused him of depravity and hounded him out of his own kingdom. They made a killer out of a kindly prince who wanted nothing more than a fine son, who would do not just him but the three worlds proud by his great deeds!’

‘Though outnumbered, he killed every one of his aggressors to buy Mother and me some time…’ Mahisha would intone solemnly, eyes shining.

Malayaksa would resume the narrative, fighting back his own tears, ‘Yes, he did! And he used his own body as a shield against the arrows that were being unloosed by the enemy! Your poor mother was brave too, and though she was not long for this world, she held out until you were safely delivered.
Moreover she bestowed a blessing upon you before she breathed her last!’

Malayaksa had to stop to gather his wits. No matter how many times the two of them went through this ritual, the pain and sorrow that engulfed them was always fresh. ‘Your father lived and died believing in you, child! Agni’s boon has endowed you with great power, for no man or god may hope to prevail over you in battle! It was his dream that you bring the three worlds under your suzerainty and sit on the throne of heaven. He believed that a good king will always bring about the finest form of governance. He hoped that you would usher in a golden age that would see injustice and tyranny banished for evermore!’

These stories were the highlight of the buffalo demon’s childhood. That, and the time he spent with the faithful Rakthabija, racing with the dogs, milking cows, bathing buffaloes, feeding the horses and rescuing the odd bird which had fallen from its nest, or injured squirrels. The yaksas themselves never forgot the sight of the adorable tyke, who hand-fed his assorted pets while his scary companion looked on!

All too soon it was time for Mahisha to leave his childhood behind and make his own way in the world. Bright and ambitious as he was, it was a logical choice for him to join the asura army as just another soldier, hiding his true lineage. Malayaksa wished him every success as he made his departure. Mahisha himself showed no emotion though, not even when his menagerie of pets chased after him, desolate that he was leaving them behind.

Mahisha never looked back. He rose swiftly through the ranks on the strength of his gift for killing, innate cunning and charisma. There were many who considered him to be a born
leader with a great vision for the asuras. Mahisha’s origins, which he took fierce pride in, became known among his hordes of admirers and adherents, who became increasingly powerful thanks to their burgeoning numbers. They declared that he was their rightful king and many others also joined their voices to the clarion call for a new order. Dissenters were quickly silenced and their decapitated heads were prominently placed at strategic points in various asura strongholds.