part0061

Arjan had been seeing it all. It was a day after the entire pack of Rakshas with Durukti had left, that they had emerged. Till then, they had subsisted on fruits scavenged from the ground. Exhausted, Arjan walked on the path of Shambala again, trudging away from people who eyed at him, Kripa and Bala, for they were all accessories to what had happened here.

But he paid no heed. The corpses were being picked, the pyres were being lit. As they reached his home, which had been untouched by all the violence, Arjan spoke up. “You should have let me go.”

“And get yourself killed?” Kripa said, glancing at Bala. “You talk crazier than your brother sometimes, mate.”

Arjan had been dragged by Bala when he saw what happened to Kalki. Arjan, Kripa and Bala were making their way towards the caves after gathering enough weapons and supplies when they saw Kalki had already reached and he was being trapped by so many Rakshas, unable to move, forced by them to kneel so he could be subdued. He was bounded and gagged by them. Arjan wanted to move, and attack, but Kripa stopped him.

“You will meet your brother’s fate. The lady of the court likes your brother, but not you, so beware,” Kripa warned.

Arjan didn’t listen to the old man, for he always talked idiotically, but it was Bala who knew it was the end. They couldn’t do anything that would save Kalki. They had to be smart.

“Where is Lakshmi?” Arjan asked, standing beside his hut in the present.

Kripa and Bala exchanged glances.

“All right, this is not going according to the plan.” Arjan clenched his fist.

“To be fair, mate, we didn’t have a plan in the first place,” Kripa said, “but at least we were able to survive and so did Kalki. That was grand, in its own way.”

Arjan nodded. He glanced at the village once again. More than half the residents had been killed. “I can’t stay here.”

“And I hope you don’t, because now…” Kripa beamed.

“Now, nothing,” Arjan stopped, as he began to walk inside the hut, rummaging through the things, picking up his clothes. For some reason, the very thought of him entering and being greeted by his mother was something he was looking forward to. But there was no family. And Arjan was glad he had sent his mother away, for he knew it would have only resulted in her going down the road like the others. The thought created a powerful knot in his chest.

“Where do you plan to go?” The old man fidgeted. He bored him to death. He was a guru and he couldn’t even teach a bunch of villagers to fight. It was also his fault.

“I don’t know. Not decided it yet.”

Bala kept his palm on Arjan’s shoulder to stop him. It was heavy, he could feel, but also sticky with blood. Arjan just realized he hadn’t bathed after the war. He had to take a dip in the lake perhaps, but then the lake would be filled with the ashes of the men and women who died for a lost cause.

“We need to help your brother.”

“He’s gone.” Arjan wrapped a long dupatta across his chest and he used another to wrap a bundle of clothes for him to carry. “And he’s dead.”

“We can’t give up like that, mate. I know you feel disheartened…”

“Disheartened?” snapped Arjan. “That’s an understatement. I feel horrible. I feel like I was supposed to die in his place. There are people out there who hate us, hate my family. I can’t even bring my mother back here. Shambala is no more the place it used to be. It’s all over. The saviour of mankind, well he’s rotting in some jail perhaps.”

Kripa shrugged. “Kind words for your blood.”

“He’s not my blood. I am not anyone’s blood.”

Kripa arched his brows. “I don’t know what that was about, but the fact that you want to leave for somewhere is stupid. You can’t do this to the people. You owe it to your brother, to protect him.”

Owe? He didn’t owe anything. Not to anyone.

He walked to his room to pick up his things. With a heavy heart, he looked through the important books he could use for the journey to…somewhere. The thought scared him, but perhaps he could go to Mother. But then, she would ask so many questions, and he’d be afraid to answer them, especially that Kalki was not returning back anytime soon.

But what really put him off? Was it the people or was it the inevitability of their defeat? Was it failure that scared him? Ever since the time in Gurukul, he had been winning. Even with the Mlecchas, he had won with Kalki. All of those times, failure was just a word for him; but now it had become his reality.

And that was when his eyes darted and he noticed a sickle. It was the same weapon his mother had given him when he was going out there to find the Mlecchas. He had barely used it during the fight against the Mlecchas, as it was taken by them. He had later retrieved it from their tent, but never once he cared about it. Looking back now, he felt instead of bows and arrows, he should have just stuck to using the sickle.

Why was he giving up on finding Kalki? His mother had told him to stay together, to never separate. So why was he giving up at all? What had happened? He stood there in silence, viewing his culpability in the entire turn of events.

Something had taken over me. Perhaps it was guilt, sadness and failure; he said to himself, shaking his head.

“Well, it’ll be dishonest if I say it isn’t entertaining to see you mutter to yourself,” Kripa grinned cheekily, “but can I ask what you are thinking about, with that thing in your hand?”

Arjan turned. The voices were back, and the momentary but deafening silence had vanished. He sighed, as he began. “What will happen to Shambala if we leave?”

“Let me tell you a story.” Kripa stretched his arms as he calmly sat on the mat where Arjan slept at night. “Years back, a war had happened, more or less close to the Breaking. The war was pathetic in its outcome. Many lost their lives, and many forgot about it. It was the worst war…”

“Like the Mahayudh?” Arjan asked, recalling the time of Lord Arjun, from whom he had received his name. Arjun played a pivotal role in that, being an archer of unprecedented fame.

Kripa gulped nervously. “Well, more or less, the Mahayudh was something that stretched for years. Yes. And many towns, villages and cities were burnt. The biggest war of all time, it had affected millions of lives. After that, the Breaking caused a worse impact. It was in the aftermath of the Mahayudh.” Kripa shook his head. “Regardless of whatever had happened, my point is that this country has seen so much worse, but it always stands up on its feet and moves on. It takes time, but it heals. Everything heals if you have patience.”

“And sometimes, you or I can’t do anything about it. We cannot hasten the process. We can just watch it happen.” Arjan felt Kripa was now talking to himself more than to him, but then he snapped back with his grin. “All said and done, I suppose I made my point and if I didn’t then you must believe I’m extremely tired since I haven’t slept or drank. Dear me, I haven’t drunk at all. I need to visit Madira’s Chalice…”

“Or not,” Kripa nervously chuckled, “whatever our great, big friend says we should do.”

Arjan always believed the books, whatever they taught, but things were always contradictory. At one moment, someone wrote something and at another, it meant something else. They were unreal. Rakshas were often considered beastly, paranormal, and straight from hell. But when seen upfront, they were wise. Dangerous sure, but they had an air about them. They weren’t so beastly after all. The world he lived in, it was full of relative contradictions and subjectivities. What was true or false, it depended on a person’s normativity.

“What do you plan to do then?” Arjan asked.

“Oh finally!” clapped Kripa childishly. “I’m glad you are on track, mate, because I have a very innovative plan.”

Bala nodded. “Speak, foulmouth.”

“We are going to Indragarh, where he’s being taken. And we need to free Kalki and take him to the north, to my frie…well not friend, but yeah, someone I know because the Somas is out.”

“We didn’t see them taking anything…” Arjan still didn’t believe in the myth of the Somas, but seeing Kalki in his glory, had basically turned around his judgments.

Kripa interjected, “Oh they did, because there was a whole lot of it. They must have taken in bulk. And just be sure, if that little blue liquid is out there, we are in great, great trouble because there’s going to be a lot of bad things we shall need to reckon with. And we need your brother to fight it. For that, he needs to be prepared and not be a fool and confront a court aristocrat out in the open, in front of her fifty or so guards. That boy lacks wisdom, but he makes up for it with his brawns.”

Arjan glanced at Bala. “All right, so what’s the plan?”

“I just told you.”

“You explained to us what would happen if we don’t help Kalki,” Arjan said. “But what is the plan to release him from the prison or from his execution?”