THE CURSE OF BRAHMA (19 page)

‘The king is getting up,’ exclaimed the attendant, excitedly motioning one of the guards to call for the royal physician. Bana was beginning to stir from his sleep, his eyes not yet open but his movements indicating that he would soon be up. The physician stumbled into the room in his haste to be at the king’s side. He was relieved to see the king showing tangible signs of being awake. He pressed his thumb against the king’s wrist and felt his pulse.
Oh my God, his pulse is racing at an unprecedented rate
, he thought.
It’s almost as if he has been running for miles
, he reflected, the beginning of a frown creasing his furrowed brows. He shook his head in consternation. He didn’t understand why the king’s pulse was so high. And whatever he didn’t understand bothered him.

King Bana stretched his arms with a big yawn and gradually opened his eyes. He lay immobile for a few seconds. All of a sudden, he became aware of the presence of people in his room. He turned his head and saw the physician looking strangely at him. He also noticed his chief minister, Bahusruta, standing at attention at the foot of his bed, worry and relief written large on his face. He got up slowly into a sitting position. He had never felt so good before. It felt as if he was several times stronger than he had ever been.

‘What’s the matter, pranapati?’ he asked the physician, calling him by the name of his profession. ‘Why are all of you in my room?’

The physician exchanged a furtive glance with the chief minister. The exchange of looks did not escape the alert eyes of king Bana.

‘What is it, Bahusruta? he asked his chief minister. ‘Why are you people acting so strangely?’ Bana sounded miffed.

‘Your Majesty, we are happy that you are okay now,’ Bahusruta paused, unsure of how to continue. Bana’s impatient look goaded him on. ‘You…Uh…you have been unconscious for a while, Your Majesty, and…and we were rather worried about you,’ he finished lamely.

Bana gave Bahusruta a surprised look and then looked quizzically at the physician. ‘How long have I been unconscious?’

The physician shuffled his feet uncomfortably. He again looked at the chief minister.

‘How long, dammit?’ the king snapped uncharacteristically. Bahusruta cleared his throat, ‘Twenty days, Your Majesty!’

King Bana felt his head spin. This was ridiculous. He felt as strong as an ox. If he had been unconscious for that long, he would have been emaciated by now. On the contrary, he had never felt as strong and energetic. Then another thought struck him and he looked sharply at the physician.

‘If I was unconscious for twenty days, why aren’t there any tubes in my body? How did you feed me all this time?’ he asked, his eyes not leaving the physician’s gaze even for a moment.

‘Uh…we couldn’t p–put any t–tubes in your body, Your Majesty,’ the physician stammered in dismay. He pointed to a set of needles lying trashed in a container beside the bed. ‘Every time we tried inserting the needle into your arm, it would bend and break…’ He finished without completing the sentence.

The king stared contemplatively at the half dozen syringes lying in the container.

‘How did you feed me then…all these days?’ he asked finally.

The physician wished he did not have to undergo this questioning any longer. His inability to explain any of what had happened in the last few days left him feeling desperately embarrassed and inadequate. He took a deep breath. ‘We didn’t Your Majesty…we didn’t feed you at all these past twenty days!’

Bana took a long hard look at the physician and his chief minister. ‘If I haven’t been fed intravenously how did I survive all this while?’ he wondered in astonishment. An inexplicable feeling of dizziness took hold of him, all of a sudden, and he held on to the edge of the bed to support himself.

Bana suddenly felt like being by himself. He waved his hand dismissively at the physician and Bahusruta motioning them to leave him alone. Bahusruta nodded respectfully and left the room. The physician hesitated for a moment, but decided he should leave too. He just couldn’t comprehend why the king’s eyes looked so green today. He shook his head as he left; there were a lot of things he didn’t understand in this particular case.

Bana felt relieved as he saw them leave. He heaved himself off the bed, feeling his body lighter and more agile than ever, despite the recent bout of dizziness. He walked towards the shiny steel mirror at one end of the room. As he gazed at his reflection, his attention was drawn to an unnatural green light glittering in his eyes. He bent towards the mirror to take a closer look at the strange light reflected there. That’s when he heard the voice in his head. It was a rasping kind of voice, inaudible, but there. Not being able to see anyone in the room, he stood confounded. He felt his limbs locked in an invisible stranglehold as the whispering voice grew more audible with each passing second. He strained to hear what the voice was saying. And then all at once, he heard it clearly, and the blood froze in his veins.
Welcome to the dark side
, the grating voice rasped.
You are mine… From now on, you will call yourself Banasura
.

Beyond the north-western frontiers of the great land of Bharat lay a vast country feared for its ferocious fighters. It was said that the warriors in this land could shoot a flurry of arrows with deadly aim while riding a horse at unimaginable speeds. These were large men. A few amongst them were so intrepid and powerful that they could wrestle a grizzly bear with ease.

This was the land of the Yavanas, ruled by none other than the charismatic King Chanur. Even in his middle age, Chanur stood ramrod straight and looked healthier and stronger than most of the young warriors of the nation. He had once killed a tiger with his bare hands while protecting one of his soldiers. They had been pursuing a large tiger who had wreaked havoc in some of the villages of the kingdom. Chanur had pledged to end the life of this man-eater. He was accompanied by a group of bodyguards and soldiers.

They sighted the tiger after a frustrating chase lasting a little under two days. The animal was finally cornered, its back against an unyielding grove of trees, and surrounded on the other sides by the Yavana soldiers. Growling in barely suppressed fury, the tiger looked around helplessly for a way out. There was none. Chanur gave the signal to one of the soldiers to shoot the tiger down. The soldier, in an attempt to impress the king, pointed towards his sword, indicating that he wanted to kill the tiger with the long knife.

Chanur blinked in surprise at the foolhardiness of the soldier. This was no ordinary tiger. It was a man-eater, a very large one. And its senses were inflamed. For all his bravery, the soldier would certainly be killed if he went in with just a sword. Chanur hesitated. His instincts honed over a lifetime of war told him that he should tell the soldier to stand back and shoot the animal with an arrow rather than engage it in close combat. But he knew if he refused the soldier now, it would embarrass and humiliate the warrior in front of his fellow men. To a Yavana warrior, that would be a fate worse than death. The other soldiers stood looking at the king, waiting for his decision. Chanur made up his mind. He took a deep breath and raised his right arm. Then slowly he pointed his thumb in a downward direction, giving the soldier permission to engage and kill the tiger. The young warrior smiled in relief, and bowed to the king. Then unsheathing his sword, he moved stealthily in its direction, watchful of every move the animal made. The tiger looked warily at the approaching soldier. As the warrior moved closer, it pulled back on its haunches and snarled. Two long saber teeth were visible as the tiger opened its mouth wide. When the soldier was about one gavuta away from the animal, the tiger went into a crouching position. The warrior knew this was an indication that the beast would jump at him any instant, and he primed himself for the attack, holding the sword in front of his body. But nothing in his past experience prepared the soldier for the speed and fury of the man-eater. The tiger was on top of him in one leap and the impact of its body crashing into him wrenched the sword out of his hand. The warrior went down with the animal still on top of him. The claws of the man-eater ripped out flesh and bone, and in a matter of seconds, the soldier’s body was a wreckage of blood and torn skin. The smell of the warrior’s blood made the tiger go insane with bloodlust, and it raised its head towards the sky and roared exultantly.

The other soldiers watched horrified, paralyzed at the speed with which everything had happened and the sheer fury of the animal. Chanur was the first to snap out of the hypnotic state the gory scene had put everyone into. In a flash he was off his horse and he lunged at the tiger in the same instant that the animal opened its gaping mouth to crunch the soldier’s head between its teeth. If Chanur had been a second late, the soldier would be dead. Fortunately for the young warrior, the tiger’s attention was distracted by Chanur charging towards it. Leaving the wounded soldier lying on the ground, the tiger turned its attention towards the new enemy. Chanur saw the tiger coming for him and he stopped, balancing his weight on the balls of his feet. As the tiger leaped at him, Chanur twisted his body in one graceful maneuver and as the tiger passed him, missing his body by inches, Chanur grabbed the animal by its torso. The weight of the falling tiger dragged Chanur down too, but he didn’t let go of the animal’s body. He landed on top of the tiger, and before the beast could find its bearings, Chanur jumped off lightly and stood facing the man-eater. The enraged tiger opened its mouth in a blood-curdling roar and attempted another jump at the king. But this time, the distance was too short and the tiger was forced to stand up on its rear legs to charge at Chanur, considerably reducing the impact of its attack. In one swift motion, Chanur gripped the tiger’s open mouth with both hands, and held on with all his might. The veins in his arms were close to bursting with the strain, but Chanur was used to it, having fought with bears over the past several years. Just as it seemed that he wouldn’t be able to hold on any longer, Chanur took a deep breath and let out a roar that was even more fearsome than the beast’s. In one quick move, he snapped the tiger’s mouth wide open, breaking the animal’s neck in the same instant. The tiger’s body went limp, collapsing to the ground like an empty sack. The warriors stood looking in shock at what they had just witnessed. They had heard about Chanur’s strength and his battles with wild bears, but seeing him fight a large man-eater in front of their very eyes was a different experience altogether. The fight with the tiger had lasted a little over a minute. The spectacle of the battle had been so captivating that it had not occurred to any of the soldiers or even the bodyguards to shoot the tiger down during the fight. However, as they saw the man-eater crumple to the ground, their suppressed emotions erupted as one resounding shout of victory, in honour of their mighty King.

Chanur smiled, his body relaxing as the tension of the ferocious fight gradually left his body. He mounted his horse and looked on as a group of soldiers lifted the wounded warrior to rush him to the infirmary. This was Chanur, the leader of one of the most ferocious warriors in Mrityulok.

Chanur was amongst the foremost warrior kings of his time, and was respected not just by his own kinsmen, but also by most of the other kings in Mrityulok. While the Yavana kingdom was farther from the others countries of Bharat than any other kingdom in Mrityulok, the influence of Chanur and the Yavanas was felt all around the great land of Bharat.

It was to this land that the Dark Lord sent the bonara. The midget monster knew that the pisaca had already done what their master had instructed him to do in Banpur with King Bana. The bonara was supposed to do the same with King Chanur. Strong and fearless as he was, the task still had him worried; because if Chanur caught him doing what he was supposed to, there would be no mercy. The Yavana king would surely kill him there and then. But more than the fear of Chanur, the Bonara was terrified of what the Dark Lord would do to him if he failed. The memory of the kalakanja dissolving in front of his eyes was still vivid in the bonara’s mind. He did not want to invite the same fate upon himself by failing his master the second time. He recalled the Dark Lord’s instructions. ‘Wait for the dark before you enter the king’s palace. Don’t let anyone see you and don’t kill anyone. Everything should seem normal when the day dawns.’ And he remembered his master’s final words, with a shiver of fear. ‘Don’t disappoint me this time, my friend.’