THE CURSE OF BRAHMA (39 page)

Bhargava fell down on his knees and bowed in respect to Amartya. ‘My Lord, I would be blessed if you accompany me to Ratanprabha—my house, as my honoured guest.’

Ratanprabha was the first and the highest level within Pataal Lok where the royalty and the mightiest of the asuras resided.

Amartya nodded weakly as he raised his hand to bless the man kneeling before him. He did not know yet that the effects of the Brahmashira would wear off in a few hours’ time and he would regain his brahmarishi powers before the sun would set that day. The white-haired Bhargava and the grievously wounded brahmarishi walked alongside each other. It was not only the beginning of the seventh day of Amartya’s banishment to Pataal Lok; it was also the start of a friendship that would endure for a lifetime. Bhargava hadn’t found the mallow leaves he had come in search for, but he had found something that was far more important to him…the one person who could help him seek revenge on Indra and the rest of the devas.

Amartya opened his eyes, his meditation finally over. As he bent to pick up his cloak from the ground, he became aware of Bhargava sitting close by, watching him.

Amartya smiled at him, but his disfigured face made it look more like a grimace. ‘Have you been waiting long, Bhargava?’ he asked gently.

‘I had come to talk to you,’ Bhargava replied returning his smile. He took a deep breath, ‘I just had word from Jarasandha. Narada has started his campaign of cautioning various kingdoms about the presence of our assassins on Mrityulok. Some of these kings have started preparations of their own against this danger, while others have decided to play the wait-and-watch game.’

Amartya nodded. The meditation had calmed him and he did not react to Bhargava’s report. ‘What news of Kansa? How is he doing?’

At the mention of Kansa, Bhargava’s face grew grim. ‘Kansa has started showing signs of delusion and paranoid schizophrenia,’ he said and paused. ‘It appears your svapnasrsti has worked its effects on him faster than we thought. Maybe because his mind is in a vulnerable state these days.’

Amartya nodded again. There was no joy in his expression. ‘Kansa will become completely schizophrenic in the next few days,’ he said tonelessly. ‘Once his dark side takes over, he will do whatever his inherent nature compels him to do.’

The two men sat quietly as the night turned darker and the shadows grew heavier. Finally Bhargava spoke. ‘Are we doing the right thing, Amartya? Do the means justify the end?’

Amartya coughed hoarsely. He knew this was not the first time Bhargava was suffering from self-doubt, and it wouldn’t be the last time either. ‘In the end, there is only the end…not the means. Swarglok has to be cleaned of the corruption that people like Indra have pushed it into. Nothing that we do in order to root out that corruption is unjustifiable, Bhargava. Not the destruction of Kansa; not even the death of other innocent mortals. The bigger evil lies elsewhere and if the supreme gods will not do anything about it, then someone has to.’

Bhargava listened quietly. He knew Amartya was right. Indra had committed every form of debauchery and depravity over the past few centuries. Yet, neither Shiva nor Vishnu had taken him to task.
The vile man rules over all the devas and is steeped in sin…still no one says or does anything
, Bhargava fumed in silent fury. Images of his mother’s body lying in a pool of blood clouded his vision, as they always did whenever he remembered the trauma of his own past.

Time crept on as the two men sat lost in their own thoughts; each one consumed by his private hell and thinking what the future had in store for him. Meanwhile, the wheels of destiny kept rolling. They stopped for no one; not even for a brahmarishi.

arasandha finished reading the letter he had dictated to Upadha.
The forger has surpassed himself. Ugrasena will never know the difference
, he thought with satisfaction.

Jarasandha had worded the letter to Ugrasena with great care. It was imperative that the old king of Madhuvan did not realize that this particular letter was not written by Kansa. Jarasandha had already destroyed the original letter written by Kansa to his father, but not before Upadha had scanned Kansa’s handwriting in order to forge the duplicate letter dictated by Jarasandha.

Jarasandha had crafted the letter in such a way that it would appear as a reply from Kansa in response to Ugrasena’s letter.
This should break the umbilical cord between father and son forever
, he thought with a devious smile. He dismissed the forger with a significant reward for his services and asked his attendant to call for Rabhu—the messenger sent by Ugrasena.

Rabhu materialized almost immediately. It had been a few hours since he had handed Ugrasena’s letter, meant for Kansa, to Jarasandha; and he had been wondering what he had been up to. He knew the Magadha king would not have given the letter to Kansa; that much was clear to him. But how would he explain to Ugrasena that he had returned without a reply from Kansa? This petrified him. If Ugrasena got to know he had not handed the letter to Kansa, the punishment would be instant death.

‘Here, take this letter and give it to your king,’ Jarasandha commanded handing the same scroll to Rabhu that he had carried from Madhuvan.

‘B-but, My Lord,’ Rabhu stuttered in fright. ‘What do I tell the king?’

Jarasandha looked contemptuously at the man standing in front of him. He hated traitors, even though Rabhu had deceived his master for his own benefit. ‘Let Ugrasena know you gave his letter personally to Kansa…and tell him that the prince has sent his reply.’

Rabhu wavered. He wasn’t sure about this. ‘But, My Lord, I gave the king’s letter to you. Has the prince replied to that letter?’ His voice faltered as he saw the look of fury on Jarasandha’s face.

‘Listen to me, you dog!’ Jarasandha growled, shaking Rabhu roughly by the neck. ‘You will tell Ugrasena exactly what I have told you. You gave Kansa the letter Ugrasena sent through you, and the prince has sent back this letter in reply.’ He let go off Rabhu’s throat. ‘Now do you understand this or should I break your neck for you?’

Rabhu cowered in fear. Words refused to come out of his mouth and he was barely able to nod his head in understanding.

‘Now get out of my sight,’ Jarasandha snarled.

As Rabhu hastily turned to leave, Jarasandha called after him, ‘And remember my friend…Ugrasena might forgive your betrayal if you tell him what happened. But I will find you out from the deepest corner of Mrityulok and cut you into a thousand pieces if you betray me!’

Rabhu nodded and rushed out of the palace, the scroll containing the letter clutched in his hand. He wanted to put as much distance between him and Magadha as was possible.

‘You gave the letter to Kansa?’ Ugrasena questioned Rabhu when they were alone in the King’s personal chambers.

‘Yes, My Lord. I personally handed it over to the prince,’ Rabhu hoped his voice sounded firm. Despite the long ride from Magadha, the dread of Jarasandha was still starkly vivid in his mind.

‘Hmm!’ Ugrasena murmured to himself. ‘And how did the prince look? Did he seem well?’

Rabhu wondered what reply he should give. ‘He seemed well enough, My Lord.’ He seemed to hesitate. ‘He read the letter and then asked me to wait while he wrote a reply for you.’

Ugrasena did not seem to notice that the messenger’s voice quivered unnaturally as he spoke the last sentence. Nor did he observe the shifting of his feet or the other symptoms that should have told him something was wrong. He was excited that Kansa had sent him a reply and was eager to dismiss the messenger and read the letter in peace.

‘Thank you, Rabhu. You have served me well in this,’ Ugrasena said and took off his necklace and handed it as a gift to the messenger. ‘Go rest now; you must be exhausted!’

Rabhu accepted the gift quietly. It was far more valuable than the few gold coins he had sold his soul for, to Jarasandha. But it wasn’t the value of the gift that made him question his principles, perhaps for the first time in his life. Even in the excitement of receiving the letter he thought his son had sent him, Ugrasena had still shown consideration for Rabhu.
Very few people would do that…and definitely not a king!
Rabhu thought to himself.
Oh God, what have I done?
He castigated himself for having betrayed his king.

For a brief moment, he hesitated at the door. He wanted to confess to Ugrasena his betrayal. He wanted to tell the king that the letter he was holding in his hands was not from the prince but most likely a forgery done by Jarasandha. But in that instant, he recalled with trepidation the final words of Jarasandha—‘Ugrasena might forgive your betrayal if you tell him what happened. But I will find you out from the deepest corner of Mrityulok and cut you into a thousand pieces if you betray me!’ And with the memory of that warning threatening to suffocate him, he found he just didn’t have enough courage to tell the truth to Ugrasena. He bowed to the king and left the room. The last thing he saw was Ugrasena lovingly extracting the letter from the scroll and beginning to read…

Pitashree
,

As I go through your letter, I am struck by a few things, and I wonder how I did not realize the extent of your selfishness even when I left home
.

You claim you loved me since I was a child, but you also stress the fact that I am not your son by blood. Furthermore, you appear to be burdened by too much sadness that in taking care of me, you couldn’t give enough love to your other children—those sons and daughters that were born to you of your own blood!

However, what strikes me most about your letter is that you didn’t call me back because of some newfound love for me, but because you want me to return to fight a bunch of asura assassins
.

It’s interesting that you don’t want any of your blood children to fight these so-called deadly invaders; possibly because you do not want to risk their precious lives, whereas it is easy to risk mine
.

At the end of your letter, I observe that you do not call your son back, but the commander-in-chief of the Madhuvan army
.

My answer therefore to you is this—ask one of your precious children to protect your motherland; assuming that any of those weaklings can actually lift a sword to defend even themselves. Maybe then you will realize that there is no Madhuvan without Kansa
.