part0032

Twinkling stars illuminated the black night. Had it not been for the stars, it would have been difficult to tell where the horizon was, because the sea seemed to have merged with the sky. The sound of the crashing waves disturbed the quiet of the night. The moonlight was the only source of light for the warriors who were sailing towards the unknown.

Rana and Urmila were engrossed in a conversation.

Ashwatthama walked out and looked at the couple. Rana was telling her about the war near Charmanvati, and how the bow got stolen, thereafter. Ashwatthama heard Valari’s name and felt apologetic for having missed the funeral.

Vikram came out of the small shed on the boat, and stood alongside Ashwatthama at the stern. They remained silent for a long time, staring at the darkness. Vikram threw a glance at Rana and Urmila.

‘He has changed, hasn’t he?’ Vikram asked.

‘Yes,’ Ashwatthama sighed. ‘It is good that Urmila came along. Now, he seems to have some life back in him, otherwise, a sense of guilt was taking over him. He could not shake off the feeling that he was responsible for Valari’s unfortunate death at Raktavija’s hands.’

‘True, he lit the pyre and cried like a child. That old fool had no one in his family,’ Vikram said, withdrawing into silence, again.

After a few moments, Vikram said, ‘Ashwatthama, you have my gratitude for being a part of this journey. You might call me selfish, but I have one more favour to ask.’

Ashwatthama turned towards him, ‘What is it?’

Vikram looked at the invisible horizon for a moment, and spoke.

‘If I do not make it back, promise me, you will not let my wife and daughter fall into the hands of the vicious asuras. Bring them to Hastinapur or the Himavant, or wherever you think best. At least, they will be protected from any harm.’

Ashwatthama was quiet. He understood Vikram’s dilemma. Their plan was a dangerous one, and they had a few risky propositions to undertake. Every encounter could be fatal, something that became clear with Valari’s death. It was not going to be a safe ride anymore, despite Ashwatthama leading the gang. The asuras of this age were far more powerful than the devas of the bygone era.

‘Vikram, I know we are on our way to realising a life-threatening mission. Had there been any other safer alternative, we would have opted for that. But, I can promise you that no asura will ever touch your family, no matter what,’ Ashwatthama reassured his friend.

Vikram’s face had a relieved expression. He knew Ashwatthama was not a man of false promises. He hugged his friend, and went inside the shed.

The boat docked at the coast of Rajpalika on the morning of the third day of their journey. The coast was barren, bereft of the glorious city that once shone on its sleeve.

‘Which way?’ Ashwatthama asked, turning towards Nyat.

‘There,’ Nyat pointed to a clearing about half-a-mile from where they had docked.

They walked barefoot on the cold and wet sand. On reaching the shore, they first tied their clothes in knots to avoid getting tangled underwater. Next, they armed themselves with weapons and prepared for their first brush with the asuras.

The sun was barely above the horizon, and the water shimmered like burnished gold. They had time till dusk to complete their task.

All of them took the herb given by Guru Apasmitra, and put it in their mouths. Even though Ashwatthama did not need it, Guru Apasmitra had strongly advised him to take it. Their bodies underwent immediate change, and their skin turned glossy.

Amused yet confident, the warriors dived into the water. Once inside, the water started entering their nostrils, and all of them dreaded drowning. The first few moments were a struggle, as they were rendered breathless. However, as soon as their lungs were filled with water, they began to breathe freely underwater, akin to a baby in womb.

It was a miracle indeed. Guru Apasmitra’s herb had worked wonders.

Nyat led from the front. As they went deeper, darkness engulfed them. To their surprise, they did not face any trouble navigating underwater.

Ashwatthama understood why Guru Apasmitra had insisted on the herb; this herb ensured clear vision. After about half-a-mile deep, they saw a faint purple light. As they came closer, they realised it was the sunken city of Dwarka. They swam past the ruins of the streets and houses, most of which had been destroyed. The scenes were devastating. Rows and rows of dilapidated houses, carts, and buildings ― all reduced to rubble. The unexpected discovery fascinated the warriors.

Soon, Nyat led his companions towards a magnificent-looking architecture, broken yet majestic. All of them swam towards this palace. The herb had made their skin aquadynamic, and they were able to navigate easily.

Nyat motioned them towards the entrance of the palace. They entered an ornate dome, which looked like a courtyard. Even though the palace had submerged, the structure was intact. On one side of the courtyard, they could see towering pillars, supporting the dome. The courtyard was spacious, probably where Krishna used to hold celebrations. Huge marble statues that must have adorned this palace once upon a time were now damaged, lying lifeless, submerged.

‘Where to now?’ Vikram asked, surprised that he could speak underwater. Hovering a few feet above the floor, the others were equally astonished to hear his voice.

That moment, a bright light flashed in front of their eyes, blinding them, temporarily. They all covered their faces, and when they opened their eyes, the courtyard seemed aglow with the light of a thousand torches.

Ashwatthama looked around. There were groups of asuras around them. They were armed with swords, clubs, and maces.

‘This does not look good,’ Rana panicked.

‘Who are they?’ Urmila asked.

‘Your inevitable death,’ a shrill voice boomed. A green asura emerged and stood in front of the bedazzled warriors. It was the same asura who had stolen the bow from them, not very long ago. He held the bow on his shoulder ― Lord Rama’s Kodanda.

Ashwatthama looked puzzled. He could not see Guru Apasmitra anywhere. Even Nyat seemed to have disappeared.

And then, Ashwatthama saw him. Nyat was standing right behind Vidyut, with his gaze lowered. Others were stunned.

‘You traitor!’ Rana shouted.

‘Don’t blame him,’ Vidyut said, sarcastically. ‘We have held his family hostage, so he will do anything we say. As for you all, we know that you have come to reclaim the bow. But, that belongs to my Master now.’

Ashwatthama realised that his plan had gone terribly wrong, and now, all those whom he had come to know and befriend in the last few months, were awaiting inevitable death.

Vikram analysed the situation and his daughter’s face flashed before his eyes.

However, had he not been part of this expedition, everyone would have died, eventually. He did what he had to for his family’s sake and well-being.

Vikram turned towards Ashwatthama, took out his sword from the sheath and said, ‘If we go down, we go down fighting.’

Ashwatthama was weighing their chances, which seemed remote. And now, without Guru Apasmitra, they were clueless. Even their backup plan had been rendered useless. A new strategy had to be devised.

Vidyut did not waste time in conversation like Raktavija. He instructed his army to launch an attack, and the asuras pounced on the warriors with unbridled vengeance. Ashwatthama and Rana took out their swords, and Urmila and Janamejaya followed.

They created a formation, standing back to back, to be on the defensive, while the asuras charged from all directions.

The water started to turn red with blood. The warring camps were relentless. The brave warriors slashed many asuras. Even Urmila was swift and aggressive to counter her opponents.

However, the protective circle of defence could not hold for long, and slowly, each warrior had to battle multiple asuras at once.

Ashwatthama moved like a blade, slicing asuras left, right and centre. Before the asuras could even blink, Ashwatthama knocked them out. Consequently, the asuras started avoiding him, and concentrated on his companions, instead. They thought it was easier to tackle the other mortals. But Ashwatthama swam like a sailfish and moved as fast as a leopard. The asuras had not anticipated such agility, and they were reluctant to fight Ashwatthama. Amid this bloodbath, even the palace walls had acquired a reddish tinge.

The asuras were unforgiving and Ashwatthama’s companions were losing vigour. Except Dronacharya’s son, everyone else seemed exhausted. Worry lines were visible on Ashwatthama’s forehead; he wondered how long they could continue without being slaughtered. Ashwatthama looked at the other end of the palace, but Dandak was nowhere to be seen. Vidyut, as a fence sitter, wore a satisfied expression. His asura army had overshadowed Ashwatthama’s able warriors in strength and warfare skills. Ashwatthama was certain that Dandak would assess the situation first, before exposing himself to a battle like this. After all, Raktavija’s assassination had been a lesson for him.

A wrong move could be life-threatening and Ashwatthama was getting anxious. As opposed to a traditional battlefield — like the Kurukshetra — the warring camps, here, were fighting underwater, in a submerged city. There was no way the opponents could pause or take frequent breaks. Ashwatthama’s companions were not spared even a moment’s relief from the asuras’ attacks. Guru Apasmitra’s herb had helped the warriors in terms of enhanced mobility, extraordinary vision and normal respiration under the water. But all this would last only for a limited span of time. It was impossible for them to carry on for hours at a stretch; and the asura army, despite casualties, was growing stronger. Batches of asuras were being deployed from the netherworld.

Vikram beheld the gory sight of his friends reeling under the onslaught of the asuras. Ashwatthama moved at the speed of light, wielding his swords skilfully to kill as many asuras as possible in a single stroke. Swirling like a wheel, Ashwatthama was a one-man army.

On the other end of the spectrum, Rana and Urmila looked extremely fatigued. Even the slightest mistake could cost them their life. Equipped with superior fighting skills since childhood, both Rana and Urmila knew how to kill the asuras with strategy and tact. But, slowly, their bodies began to give up after prolonged fighting, and the bloodied water was making it difficult to gauge the movements of the asuras.

Suddenly, a loud commotion near the courtyard entrance brought everything to a standstill. Everyone paused. A majestic figure, dressed in white, was standing at the entrance. Such was this entity’s dynamism, that moments after its entry, the courtyard entrance crumbled into smithereens. Guru Apasmitra had arrived on the scene.

Ashwatthama looked through the red filter that the water had turned into. Guru Apasmitra moved aside, and a shoal of sharks rushed in.

Hundreds of grey and white sharks swarmed into the courtyard. Ashwatthama shouted to raise an alarm. The sharks swam furiously, knocking off the asuras on their path. The asuras were caught off-guard and they panicked at this sudden turn of events. Some of these sharks were almost five times their size.

The asuras tried to fight back, resist, and attack the sharks with their swords and maces, but their weapons had no effect on these uninvited guests. The sharks were covered in triangular scales which broke countless swords, and maimed the asuras. By the time the asuras could free themselves from the clutches of these sharks, they were either dead, or ended up with a broken back or neck. The sharp teeth of these sharks plunged into the hearts of the asuras. The sharks were wiping out the asura army with swift strokes.

Ashwatthama looked at Vidyut, who stood baffled at this sudden outbreak. Till then, just like Raktavija, Vidyut had been confident of the asuras’ victory. Vidyut lost his patience, and started shooting hexes to kill the sharks. Slowly, he worked towards slaughtering as many sharks as he could. As soon as one of the deadliest sharks turned towards him, a hex hit it, killing it on the spot.

Meanwhile, Vikram and his friends, taking advantage of the situation, started eliminating the frightened asuras. Ashwatthama dashed towards Vidyut, who was standing at the opposite edge of the courtyard.

Within minutes, almost the entire asura army collapsed, along with several sharks. The remaining sharks swam back the same way from where they had emerged. Ashwatthama swam fast towards Vidyut, who looked visibly nervous. He hurled several hexes at Ashwatthama, and targeted Vikram and Rana too, but Guru Apasmitra deflected these quickly, thwarting the asura’s plans.

Vidyut was enraged and helpless at the same time. He knew he would not be able to swim his way back to Krishna’s chamber. In a desperate attempt therefore, he kicked Nyat and positioned himself to counter Ashwatthama.

‘Give it up, Vidyut. It is over. You cannot escape now,’ Ashwatthama warned him.

‘You think you have won. You are mistaken,’ Vidyut said, wryly, preparing for a fight, the bow still strung across his shoulder.

Ashwatthama pulled out his sword, watching Vidyut carefully. He looked at the others — they were busy wiping off the last of the asura army.

‘My family, where are they?’ Nyat asked, as he drew his own sword.

Vidyut looked at him with contempt and said rather sharply, ‘You shall meet them soon.’

Saying so, he hurled a knife at Nyat, but the latter was quick to dodge. Swirling his sword, Nyat attacked Vidyut, but the asura swam out of striking distance. The agile asura pulled out his double-edged sword, and moving stealthily like a ghost, launched a fierce attack on Nyat. Before Ashwatthama could help his friend, Vidyut had plunged his sword into the king’s abdomen. Whispering into Nyat’s ear, he said, ‘Your family is dead. And, it’s your turn now.’

Nyat gasped, losing grip on his sword which now floated on the courtyard floor. As soon as Vidyut withdrew his sword, Nyat collapsed, writhing in pain.

‘Nyat!’ Ashwatthama cried, as he tried to hold a wounded Nyat. Furious and agitated, he looked at Vidyut, whose gaze was now fixed on Ashwatthama. A nonchalant Vidyut was twirling his sword, moving in circles.

Ashwatthama did not waste time. He raised his sword, and in an instant, he was locked in a fight with Vidyut. True to his name, Vidyut was fast as lightning. He was swift as a horse, and powerful like a raging bull.

Soon, the fight between the two warriors intensified. Vidyut observed that among the asuras, he was the last one left. By this time, Vikram, Rana, Urmila and Guru Apasmitra had gathered around the two fighters, but none of them had the courage to intervene.

Ashwatthama was a skilled warrior but Vidyut was smart enough to defend himself and he managed to land a few punches on target. With a bloodied nose, Ashwatthama spat out, and threw a furious glance at Vidyut. Both were baying for each other’s blood, as they circled around.

Vidyut knew he had to incapacitate his opponent to survive the duel. Moving his sword swiftly, Vidyut pounced on Ashwatthama. He also brought down a dagger right over Ashwatthama’s head which the warrior successfully ducked. Even though Ashwatthama moved his head in time, the dagger pierced the armour, hitting his collarbone. Vidyut was overjoyed but his jubilation was short-lived. Ashwatthama had been waiting for this precise moment. He grabbed the asura by his wrist, and within a flash plunged his sword into Vidyut’s chest.

Stunned, Vidyut let go off the dagger, and stumbled, as Ashwatthama twisted and pulled out his sword. Death was staring Vidyut in the face, and he knew that he wouldn’t be able to overcome the death blow by Dronacharya’s mighty son. No asura could survive an attack like that.

Blood trickled from the sides of Vidyut’s mouth. He was in immense pain and had dropped down to his knees. The zeal with which he had begun the fight faded away.

Ashwatthama and his companions had moved away from Vidyut. They were aware of his sorcery skills. He was a trickster and they couldn’t afford to be trapped in one of his spells. But Vidyut looked vulnerable. He had no strength left in him.

After keeping his head lowered for a few moments, Vidyut raised his eyes, and looked at Ashwatthama. Spitting blood, the asura spoke.

‘You think, you...you have won today, huh? Do you know...how...how many years I have served my Master?’

The warriors stared at him, unsure where Vidyut was going with the conversation.

‘Twenty. And never, ever have I let him down. If you think...that you can win this battle, you are...wrong, Ashwatthama...I, I will prove you wrong.’

What Vidyut did next was unthinkable. Gathering his strength, he clapped his hands, and in an instant, an invisible barrier formed between him and the warriors. Ashwatthama and his companions tried to move forward, but were restricted by the invisible barrier, conjured by Vidyut.

The warriors could only watch. They had been rendered helpless.

Slowly, Vidyut took out the bow from his shoulders. Ashwatthama and the others stood stupefied.

Delicately, the green asura placed the bow in front of him. A spasm of pain and rage contorted his face.

‘Guru Apasmitra!’ Ashwatthama shouted, ‘Can you remove this barrier?’

Guru Apasmitra was trying to get rid of the barrier but none of his mantras or hexes worked.

More drama unfolded when Vidyut closed his eyes and joined his hands together. The space between his palms glowed as he concentrated all his energy between them. Vidyut opened his eyes, and in a single stroke smashed the bow with all his might.

A blinding flash lit the underwater courtyard, and a cracking sound followed. All the warriors were thrown aside, hit by the impact of the boom. Dazed by this sudden development, they found themselves floating, unaware of their surroundings. Rana had even lost his consciousness.

When Ashwatthama came to his senses and his vision adjusted, he was mortified beyond imagination. The bow, Lord Rama’s Kodanda, had been broken into pieces.

‘NO!’ Ashwatthama exclaimed. The despair in his voice was apparent. With the bow damaged, all hopes had been dashed. As the protector of the divine weapon, Ashwatthama thought he had failed to safeguard what was the symbol of good triumphing over evil.

Meanwhile, Vidyut’s task was unfinished. Was there a fatal climax in store for the warriors, now? Pulling out four daggers from his belt, Vidyut placed them in front of him. He closed his eyes and murmured a hymn.

Ashwatthama froze to the spot. He knew whom those daggers were for. He looked at his companions, who were still reeling under the effect of Vidyut’s earlier spell.

The invisible barrier prevented Ashwatthama from even moving an inch closer to Vidyut. He looked at Vidyut again, who seemed to be engrossed in deep meditation. Ashwatthama observed that the daggers had floated up from their initial position. He would lose his friends in no time. That would be Vidyut’s retribution — the way of the asuras — to inflict unbearable pain, physical and emotional.

Closing his eyes, Ashwatthama recalled his father’s words.

And everyone in this battle had trusted him blindly without any debate or reservations. They were not mere warriors, they were more than just his friends, they were somebody’s father, husband, son and daughter. The pain of separation, sometimes, could be far more difficult to deal with, than any other pain. That emotion made them humans.

After brief contemplation, Ashwatthama pulled out Barbarik’s first arrow which was strapped to his right leg. He did not need a bow to use it on Vidyut. He placed it in front of him, and whispered the mantra for releasing the divyastra .

Everything came to a standstill. The surrounding was washed fluorescent green. The first arrow had marked everything in sight. What Ashwatthama did not know was that the weapon had the power to freeze time as well ― a boon at this crucial hour. Had Vidyut released the daggers, his friends and Guru Apasmitra would have been long gone.

Ashwatthama released the first arrow. It moved at lightning’s speed, leaving a trail of white sparks as it flew. After covering some distance, it disappeared.

Next, Ashwatthama took out Barbarik’s second arrow and recited the same mantra again. The scene lit up like before. This time, it was for him to complete the selection. He moved his hands, and concentrated on the objects he did not wish to be eliminated. These unmarked objects appeared in white colour. Carefully, he marked his friends and Guru Apasmitra. He then marked Nyat too, who lay curled up on the courtyard floor. He also marked the remains of Lord Rama’s bow carefully.

Once done with the selection, Ashwatthama released the second arrow. The arrow zoomed past, leaving a trail of white sparks like the first arrow. The second arrow too disappeared after travelling some distance.

Finally, pulling out Barbarik’s third and last arrow, strapped to the right side of his torso, Ashwatthama reviewed everything he had unmarked one last time. He then closed his eyes, remembered Lord Shiva, and recited the mantra before releasing the last arrow.

The arrow went in a flash, like the previous two had. Instead of white, the third arrow left a trail of red sparks. A loud bang was heard. Ashwatthama covered his face as a reflex reaction.

When the commotion settled, he could see everything clearly. Vidyut lay motionless on the courtyard floor – his four daggers floating around. The remains of the bow were still there but the invisible barrier was gone.

Ashwatthama went closer to Vidyut. He knew the power of the arrows, and so did not doubt their effect. Vidyut’s eyes were open, staring into nothingness. Barbarik’s arrows had done their work. Dandak’s second war commander was dead.

The other warriors had regained their senses, and moved closer. The water had turned the deepest shade of red. Everyone gathered around Nyat who was now breathing his last. Ashwatthama had a grim expression on his face.

‘Let’s take him out.’

‘No,’ Nyat motioned his hands with great difficulty.

‘My time has come...I am...sorry, I lied to you all...’ Nyat was going breathless.

‘Your family, Nyat, where are they? We will try to save them,’ Ashwatthama asked.

Nyat’s spoke, barely audible, ‘They are gone...Vidyut...’

Nyat was gasping for breath. He looked into Ashwatthama’s eyes, and tried to say something. Ashwatthama brought his ear close to Nyat’s parted lips, but he could only hear a faint whisper, ‘ Yoddha ...’ The next moment, Nyat’s head slumped forward, his eyes still half open.

Ashwatthama felt a lump of pain in his throat. The others mourned the loss of a dear friend. Despite his betrayal, they grieved Nyat’s death. They understood that Vidyut had compelled him to work according to Dandak’s demands. He did what he did to save his family.

Ashwatthama picked up Nyat’s lifeless body, and brought it to the corner of the courtyard. Everyone followed him.

The asuras had died; the sharks had disappeared. Guru Apasmitra whispered a mantra, and the water started cleaning up, the red tinge clearing out on its own.

Ashwatthama looked at the distant part of the palace; all was quiet. There were no more asuras to be grappled with. However, he was not sure if Dandak would show up anytime soon.

After mulling over the events and their complexities, Ashwatthama stood up and shared a few words of solace with his companions. However, one question troubled them all.

Guru Apasmitra spoke first, ‘I apologise for the delay. The moment I was about to enter the palace, I saw the lit-up courtyard and heard Vidyut’s voice. I knew it was an ambush. So, I returned to summon the creatures of the deep. It took the sharks some time to swim and reach us.’

Everyone’s gaze was fixed at the dead sharks. Vidyut, alone, had killed almost all of them.

‘I believe your help was timely, Guruji,’ Ashwatthama said.

‘Now what? Should we proceed to the sixth loka?’ Rana asked. He stood next to Urmila, holding her hand. Urmila looked flustered, but she put on a brave face.

‘Our work for now is done. We must not proceed further. In war, you must know when not to attack. At this point, Dandak has an advantage over us. He knows our strengths and weaknesses. Even though Vidyut is dead, if we go inside, we could be walking right into Dandak’s trap,’ Ashwatthama advised.

‘I agree with Ashwatthama,’ Guru Apasmitra said. ‘We must not hurry. Vidyut has broken the bow and that’s a huge setback for us. We have also lost our tactical defence, the premise of our operation — the surprise factor. Unfortunately, through Nyat, Dandak now knows about Krishna’s hidden chamber, and he will monitor the entry. If we enter, it will be doomsday for us. We should retreat, and rethink our strategy. Let us head back to Avanti and try devising another foolproof plan.’

Rana looked at Vikram, who nodded in agreement.

‘I concur, let us return for now; we must give a king’s farewell to Nyat. Thereafter, I suggest, we can sail to Surparaka before executing our next plan of action. We will reach in two days,’ Vikram said, putting his sword back in his sheath.

Ashwatthama picked up the broken pieces of Lord Rama’s bow, and tied them to his armour. Thereafter, Vikram and Rana helped him to carry Nyat’s body. Heading towards the light of the afternoon sun, they reached the shore.

At the shore, they placed the corpse on the wet sand and sat down for a moment. The task had not gone exactly as planned, and they had lost an important ally. Their hopes of a clean victory over Dandak by killing him with Lord Rama’s bow had not come to fruition. They wondered how Dandak would avenge the death of his able aides, after all, they were his pillars of support.

Guru Apasmitra scanned the beach and informed the warriors, ‘It’s almost dusk. We must take Nyat back to Rajpalika, and prepare for his funeral.’

Ashwatthama agreed. Everyone followed Guru Apasmitra.

The room was dimly lit, but the figure inside seemed indifferent and unmoved. He was looking out of the only window in the room. Herds of asuras, busy cutting down trees, could be seen in the distance. Several fire torches lit up the surrounding, and the heat emanating from the nearby crater added to the warmth.

As if on cue, a messenger entered the room, and with bowed head, said, ‘My Lord, I bring you some terrible news.’

The figure raised his hand, gesturing the messenger to speak.

‘Senapati Vidyut has been killed in the battle of Dwarka. We could not retrieve the bow either. It has been probably reclaimed by the enemy,’ the messenger uttered, every fibre of his body trembling like a leaf. Would he be at the receiving end of his Master’s ire? The messenger grew nervous at the figure’s deathly silence.