THE CURSE OF BRAHMA (32 page)

Bhargava did not miss the emphasis on the last word. But his face told Amartya that he had not understood his meaning at all.

‘Devki can be the greatest stumbling block to our plan in the future, Bhargava,’ Amartya said haltingly.

‘How can she…’ Bhargava stopped mid-sentence. ‘Did you see something in the future?’ he asked, suddenly, his eyes betraying his anxiety.

Amartya sighed. It never ceased to surprise him how other people—even people as evolved as Bhargava—thought that a brahmarishi could see the future with ease. ‘Let’s just say that I saw something that indicates Devki could be a danger to our plan in the future.’

Bhargava shook his head in exasperation. ‘What does that mean? You either saw her being a danger or you didn’t! Why the confusion, then?’

‘Bhargava, people like me and the other brahmarishis can see the past with clarity. Because what has already happened is completely certain and without any ambiguity.’ He paused, reflecting how to explain the dilemma to the only friend he had had since he was banished to Pataal Lok by Brahma. ‘The future, however, is uncertain. It changes every moment. At best, we can see possibilities of what could eventually happen. There are so many possibilities that one can never be completely sure of what will really happen.’

Bhargava stared uncomprehendingly at Amartya. ‘Are you saying that not even the three supreme gods can see with certainty what will happen in the future?’ he asked incredulously.

Amartya nodded silently.

‘By Shiva and Vishnu!’ Bhargava exclaimed. ‘Then how in the name of everything holy can you be so sure that Devki will pose a danger to us in the future?’

Amartya frowned unconsciously. But his answer was quick, ‘Because every possible scenario that I am able to pick up from the energy flowing in the universe shows Devki as the one person who can ruin everything we have planned.’

‘How can a mortal woman undo what you and I have planned? You are amongst the most powerful brahmarishis and I…I have some powers too!’ Bhargava spoke with an air of disbelief in his voice.

Amartya smiled. He knew Bhargava was being humble in voicing his own abilities. The unassuming man who had befriended him so willingly two centuries back was perhaps amongst the most powerful asuras in Pataal Lok. But he had the soul of a brahmarishi.
Perhaps even more than that
, Amartya thought to himself.

‘You didn’t answer me, Amartya. How can a mortal woman upset something that you and I have planned with such care over the past two hundred years?’ Bhargava sounded impatient and this was rare for him.

‘Devki will not ruin our plans directly,’ Amartya said almost in a whisper. ‘But it is through Devki that our designs could come to nothing.’

Bhargava looked even more confused. ‘What does that mean? Stop talking in riddles!’

Amartya bent close to his friend. And when he spoke, his voice had a note of despair that cut through Bhargava’s heart. ‘Devki will have a son with Vasudev. Every vision of the future that I have been able to foresee shows only one thing. Her son will undo everything that we have planned till now. Once he is born, it will be almost impossible to use the support of Mrityulok in the fight against the devas.’

There was an uneasy silence as Bhargava tried to take in what Amartya had just said.

‘Is this why you sent your three upanshughataks to kill Devki? So that her marriage with Vasudev never comes to pass, and that…that child is never born?’ Bhargava’s voice was unsteady but his mind was clear.

‘That’s correct,’ Amartya nodded.

‘So what happens now? She is safe and will possibly marry Vasudev in the next few days.’

‘She will marry Vasudev. This became a certainty when the pisaca and the other two upanshughataks failed to kill her that day.’ Amartya paused, scratching the side of his face again. ‘But her child will not be born. At least not if I can do anything about it,’ his voice had a strange faraway tone, as if he was there and yet not there.

‘How will that happen Amartya?’ Bhargava said, clutching at some possibility of reprieve.

Amartya looked him in the eye. When he spoke his voice sounded different, almost sad. ‘Kansa will kill every child she brings into this world. Her son will never be born.’

Bhargava blanched. His soul recoiled at the very thought of infants being murdered in cold blood. For a moment, he was tempted to forsake all the plans Amartya and he had so meticulously laid down over the past several years.
Was revenge worth this carnage?
he thought with anguish.
Was anything worth this?
But then he remembered his mother lying in a pool of her own blood, her head severed from her body. The thought helped him steel his mind against any thought of abandoning their plan. He would have his revenge on Indra and the rest of the devas. And Amartya would have his revenge on Brahma, and Indra too.
Yes, it was definitely worth it!

t was nearing dusk. Five dozen newly inducted asuras were being trained in various deadly arts, including close-combat manoeuvres, archery and duelling with swords. They had been handpicked by Ugra, the Chief of the Zataka Upanshughataks. Ugra had joined the upanshughataks clan two hundred and thirty years back and had quickly made a name for himself as one of the foremost assassins in Pataal Lok. His services were not only sought by some of the most fearsome asura kings but also by some of the rulers of Mrityulok from time to time, when they wanted to execute a particularly dangerous enemy without wanting to indulge in a full-scale war. Ugra was massively built and had more kills to his credit than any of the other Zataka Upanshughataks. His favoured weapon of death was the axe and he wielded it with a skill that was both fearsome to behold and hypnotic. Ugra owed his allegiance only to one person—Bhargava.

Several years ago, Ugra had been justly accused of assassinating one of the asura council members and had suffered the misfortune of being caught in the act. It was the first and the only time he had been trapped while fulfilling a contract and the other council members had bayed for his blood. At this point in time, Ugra hadn’t yet become the chief of the Zataka Upanshughataks—the dreaded tribe of the hundred assassins—and he did not wield significant influence amongst the clan. In fact, there were a lot of his tribesmen who seemed happy to be getting rid of him, none more so than their chief, who saw Ugra as a threat to his power. Consequently, the asura council did not have any fear of the upanshughataks taking revenge on them for sentencing one of their kind to death.

Ugra was supposed to be hanged upside down over a burning cauldron of oil and left to die a slow and torturous death as the flaming oil would swallow him bit by bit. The thing that infuriated him most was that the person who had given him the contract for killing the asura council member was also present amongst the people who voted for his death. Ugra could have implicated the man and perhaps got a lighter sentence. But it wasn’t in his nature to squeal on a client. And he knew that the other council members would probably not even believe him even if he decided to betray the man who had handed him the contract. He kept silent, even as he was tied and hauled up with his head facing the ground. As the first blast of oil fumes from the cauldron hit him in the face, he saw a slightly built man staring strangely at him, from amongst the first row of onlookers who had gathered to witness his punishment. The man was dressed in white and had long flowing hair. He was obviously someone who commanded great respect among the council members, even though he didn’t look like an asura. In fact, Ugra couldn’t help wondering even in that moment that the slightly built man could possibly pass off as a mortal. As the fumes grew stronger and the heat became unbearable, Ugra noticed this man in animated conversation with the asura council. A heated discussion seemed to be taking place between the man in white and the key council members who had voted in favour of Ugra’s execution. Then, as suddenly as it had started, the discussion stopped.

Ugra noticed the chairperson of the asura council motioning hastily to one of the soldiers. And just when Ugra was certain his head was going to be boiled while he was still alive, the soldier, accompanied by his colleagues, removed the cauldron from where it stood. The relief from the scorching heat was beyond description. Ugra felt he could breathe again. Someone cut him loose and he fell to the ground, unhurt but a little dazed with the ordeal of the past few minutes. As he was led away by the soldiers, he happened to pass the man in white. Just as he crossed him, the man bent over and whispered something to him. Ugra nodded and moved on. From that moment on, he was forever indebted to Bhargava, the man in white, the man who had somehow persuaded the asura council to let him go free. Ugra never found out how Bhargava had managed the miracle, and Bhargava didn’t find it important to tell him. But a debt had been placed on him, and Ugra was not a man who forgot to pay his debts.

Ugra rose to become the chief of the Zataka Upanshughataks within a few years of this incident. The former chief had been found with his head cut off, lying in a gutter outside the city walls. The modus operandi of beheading his victim’s head was known to be Ugra’s and the other upanshughataks knew this. Yet such was the fear inspired by Ugra amongst his clansmen that none of them dared to voice their suspicions, even amongst themselves.

Ugra took over as the chief upanshughatak without any incident. The first thing he did was to instill a sense of brotherhood amongst his men. Till now, the hundred-odd assassins in the clan operated more as individuals and there were recurring instances of territorial fighting and petty disputes over available contracts. With Ugra taking over as the chief, the upanshughataks were assembled like a mini army with one general—Ugra himself. Everyone took their orders from him and he was careful to ensure that he was fair to each of them, without any favourites gaining ground as had happened under the former chief. Ugra made it clear to the assassins that they were a family and would have to look out for each other, irrespective of any personal differences. Any petty dispute would be resolved with a heavy hand. No one person could gain precedence over the whole tribe. The rules he laid for his clan ensured that they operated as a tightly knit team, with their loyalty only to one person, Ugra.