Fiction: Maya grapples with the mysteries in her father’s diary while Arjun races against time

Vishwaraj fished in his pocket and pulled out the sheet of paper he had stolen from Maya’s house. He unfolded it and began reading the inscription. “I, Tribhuvan, have realised that there will be a time to come when the Son of Bhrigu – the great Asura Guru, Shukracharya – will return. It is written in the prophecy of the Saptarishis, which was divided into three parts and hidden away. I do not know what the entire prophecy says, since I have only been able to find one part of it. But I have the means to discover the other two parts and I am securing their location. I am concealing a key in the archives of the Sangha. The Akshpatalikas, whom I have created for this purpose – though they do not know it yet – will protect this key until it is ready to be discovered according to my plan. For I have set in motion a series of events that will foil the Asura Guru in whatever he attempts …”

He stopped, surprised, as Shukra, looking perplexed, held out a hand. ‘How did they get their hands on this inscription?’ he mused, half to himself. Then, the Asura Guru looked at the young man. “I know this inscription, son. I saw it in a temple in Utkal three months ago. And our ally in the Sangha also saw the contents of this inscription two hundred years ago. He is going to use it to implement the next stage of our plan.”

Vishwaraj’s face fell. What he had thought of as an achievement was actually of no value to his ancestor. Then he perked up, forgetting his disappointment for a moment, as he connected the dots. “The key mentioned in the inscription, poorvapitamah. Did you find it when you searched the Archives?”

Shukra frowned. “No, my son. I did not find it there. Though I really wasn’t looking for it, since I got to know about the key only after I had scoured the archives.”

“Shall I organise another attack on the archives, then?” Vishwaraj’s tone was eager. “If we can find the Ranakarman Parva, then they have nothing!”

A calm look replaced Shukra’s frown. “No, son. There will be no need. The Sangha cannot use the Ranakarman Parva even if they find it. Our time and efforts can be put to better use.”

His tone grew dismissive. “And we don’t need to worry about the boy anymore. What you need to focus on now is the work I gave you. We have to find them. I promised our ally this. And they also have knowledge that will be of use to me.”

He placed his hands on Vishwaraj’s shoulders. “This part of the plan is your responsibility. I am leaving it completely to you while I search for the mantras. I will be gone for some time. A few weeks in Rasatala are equal to several months in Bhu Lok. If you succeed in your task, do not wait for me. You know what to do. I will be pleased to see Bhu Lok in disarray when I return.”

Vishwaraj respectfully bowed his head. “Yes, poorvapitamaha. I have made some progress. The clues you gave me, the texts from the archives of the Sangha, are antiquated and difficult to follow. But those are temporary difficulties. I will not stop until I find the location mentioned in the legends. And I will then ensure that havoc ensues in Bhu Lok. I know how important that is for your plan to succeed.”

“I know you will. May you be successful.”

Vishwaraj joined his hands in a namaskar. “Pranaam, poorvapitamaha.”

He vanished.

As Vishwaraj disappeared, Shukra’s face grew black as a thundercloud. His jaw muscles tightened as he dwelt upon his learnings over the past few days.

Something was happening. And he did not understand what it was.

The boy, Arjun, had died. Yet he still lived. Somehow, he had been brought back to life.

Someone had resurrected him.

But who? And how?

That was a mystery.

And that was not all. He had just learned from Vishwaraj that someone else had seen the inscription from the temple. Someone else knew. And that posed a new threat to his plans.

Shukra’s thoughts turned once more to the girl, Dhruv’s daughter. Somehow, she seemed to be ubiquitous. Even now, it was she who had been associated with the boy’s resurrection. Not for a minute did Shukra believe that she had the capability to bring the boy back to life. That was inconceivable. He had infiltrated her mind in Delhi before she inexplicably recovered and escaped. He had detected no powers there. Her mind had been blank. A sadh’s mind.

Yet, he had seen her atma with his own eyes in Bhimbetka. She was capable of atma travel, something sadhs could only dream about.

Shukra’s mind flashed to a memory from thousands of years ago, from the time that he had taught Kacha the Sanjeevani rituals. He had sensed something back then that he had not been able to explain. But that same sensation had returned, fleetingly, when he had penetrated the mind of the girl in Delhi. And also, when he had seen her atma at Bhimbetka. He couldn’t describe it, but he knew it was connected somehow.

Even his investigation in Allahabad had not thrown up anything extraordinary.

So, what was he missing? Was he wrong about the girl? None of it made any sense.

None of it was Vishwaraj’s fault, and the young rishi was loyal and enthusiastic. More importantly, his power was growing. He was to be nurtured, not discouraged.

For a while, Shukra had even toyed with the idea of Vishwaraj leading the roving bands of Vikritis all over the country – giving them purpose and uniting them as a formidable opponent to the Sangha. And a powerful ally for him.

But he had realised, over time, that the young man was a lone wolf. In any case, Shukra’s ally in the Sangha had provided another option for the Vikritis. Another plan. Which was already in motion.

But he was also running out of time. The mantras had to be found.

Shukra had an inkling of where they were. Rasatala. Where the Danavas dwelt. But he hesitated to release the sons of Danu in order to find what he sought. They were too anarchic. They needed to be controlled if they were let loose in Bhu Lok. He was their guru, not their king.

No, he would need to enter their world. He would have to use deception and subterfuge to find what he needed. And then, once his plans were fulfilled, he would release them.

Until then, he placed his trust in the maharishi from the Sangha who had sworn to help him.

Maharishi Aayan.

Excerpted with permission from Sword of Fire: The Pataala Prophecy, Christopher C Doyle, Westland.