Rajiv Menon -- ThunderGod (25 page)

It was dark by the time Dhanavantri, the chief physician, came out of Indra's hut. His face wore a worried expression. He had already pronounced two people dead, and he was not entirely hopeful about the third.

'I wish I had some good news for you, Master Mitra. But the truth is, by all accounts Indra should be dead. He has lost way too much blood. I have cleaned his wounds and applied a poultice. It is up to the gods now.'

Mitra put his arm around the physician and led him out of earshot of Indra's companions. He did not want the boys to worry.

'Tell me Dhanavantri, how do you explain the fact that he is still alive?'

'I cannot!'

Dhanavantri leaned in closer; his voice was now a tiny whisper.

'I felt his prana, his life force, when I examined him.'

'Is it strong?'

'Strong? It is ten, perhaps a hundred times stronger than an average healthy human being's, and that too in his weakened state! I had examined him after the Spardha; he was strong then, but this I cannot explain. Now he does not even seem human.'

Mitra's grip tightened on the physician's shoulder and the man winced. Mitra realised what he was doing and immediately relaxed his hand, but his voice was still stern.

'Speak to no one about this. Consider this an order from your new raja.'

The old physician smiled.

'Do not worry. I spoke to you only because I know you have an understanding of certain things that cannot be explained. I have no wish to talk about this to anybody and have people question my sanity. This secret is safe with me.'

As the man departed, Mitra turned to the boys who had big smiles on their faces. Mitra was not amused.

'What are the smiles for? Did I miss some joyous moment?'

Varuna spoke for them.

'Indra will not die. He will be fine as soon as Soma arrives.'

Mitra remembered something he had neglected to do when he had met them after their period of exile. He now scanned their auras and noticed now how brightly they shone. This was not normal. Clearly these boys had had some kind of divine experience. He decided to probe further.

'How do you know he will be fine? And where is Soma?'

'Indra told us himself. Soma has gone to fetch a brew that will revive him.'

'What do you mean Indra told you himself? He is lying in the hut unconscious.'

Agni had waited impatiently to get into the conversation.

'We heard Indra's voice in our heads.'

Vayu tried to explain.

'What Agni means is that we can communicate with him, using our thoughts.'

Mitra was amazed. These boys were saying that they could use telepathy, a craft that took even learned seers like himself years to perfect. Just then, Soma arrived with a little bowl and rushed into the hut. Mitra turned to the others.

'How long has this been going on? Why didn't you'll tell me anything?'

Varuna was hesitant.

'We wanted to, but we were not sure you would believe us. We could scarcely believe it ourselves. We thought it was all a dream.'

'Wait, there's Indra.'

Mitra turned as he heard Vayu's words and looked on disbelieving as Soma and Indra walked out of the hut and headed straight towards them. The prince had wrapped his body with a cloth, but otherwise he looked like he was in the pink of health. As he neared his master, Indra removed the cloth. His wounds had healed completely.

***

Mitra listened in amazement as the Falcons took turns bringing him up-to-date with their adventures. Indra told him about their strange encounter with the Pisachas. When they had woken up in the cave, each one had presumed that it had been a dream. They did not even speak to each other about it, fearing they would be made fun of. Only a chance remark by Soma had made them realise that they had all had a similar experience. When they had sat together and analysed what had happened, they realised that it had not been a dream at all.

Vayu and Agni then got up and began to have a fistfight. Their hands moved so fast, it was almost a blur. They ducked, weaved and swung out of the way of punches at a speed that baffled the eye. Varuna then went up to a big rock that was at least five times his own body weight. He picked it up almost effortlessly and flung it at them. Vayu and Agni moved in perfect synchronicity and turned to meet the missile with their fists. The boulder shattered into tiny fragments and showered Mitra with dust.

'As you can see, our bodies have changed. We are faster, stronger and more powerful than before.'

Mitra dusted himself as he listened to Indra.

'Well, that's putting it mildly. But wait, what about the Dvanda? You did not look very powerful there.'

'I was tempted to use my powers, but it would have served no purpose other than to spark fresh rumours about me being a demon.'

'I'm glad that along with power, you have been bestowed some wisdom. You were right in concealing your gift. But the stunt you pulled was dangerous, you could have been killed.'

Indra shook his head. 'No--he was much too slow.'

Mitra suddenly remembered Soma's wonder potion.

'What of this brew? How did you'll come by it, Soma?'

'Last night as I slept, I heard a voice in my head. It was one of the seven beings that we saw emerge from the Pillar of Light. When I opened my eyes, I was in a dark wood. A single shaft of moonlight came through the trees and illuminated a tiny plant in front of me. The voice told me to pick up the plant. Once I had done so, the moonbeam lit up another plant. Before long I had an assortment of plants and herbs with me. I made a potion with it and was instructed to give it to Indra after the challenge.'

Mitra was not sure what to say; but he was their teacher--he could not be at a loss for words.

Soma reached into his bag and pulled out an ampoule with a stopper.

'I have a little of it left if you would like to try it, Master.'

Mitra first shook his head, then his curiosity got the better of him.

'Maybe just a little.'

He put the ampoule to his lips and took a small sip. He shut his eyes as he swallowed the bitter liquid. When he opened them, he felt himself flying through a dark tunnel. Then he was cast out into what could only be described as a city of light. The structures, the beings, everything around seemed to be made of light beams that were constantly in motion. As one of the creatures approached, all the light beams crisscrossing its body began to turn a dark red. It had a grimace on its face as it raised its index finger at Mitra and wagged it in a clear gesture of denial. Then he heard Indra's voice. He opened his eyes and saw that he was clutching Indra's wrist tightly. Embarrassed, he let go.

'Are you all right?' Indra asked, concerned.

Mitra nodded, afraid to speak. He turned to Soma, who looked at him rather anxiously.

'I have still not perfected it. I have to figure out the exact proportions of all the ingredients and also reduce the concentration and improve the taste.'

Mitra gripped the boy by the shoulders.

'Listen to me carefully. This potion is meant for the five of you alone. Do you understand? Never give it to anybody else, regardless of the circumstances. Is that clear?'

'Yes, Master.'

'Good! Are there any more surprises you have in store for me?'

The Falcons looked at each other and smiled. Then Agni, Vayu and Varuna stood up and closed their eyes. They chanted a mantra under their breath; it was in a language Mitra could not understand. Then Agni opened his eyes and pointed at a dead tree, a fair distance away. A small fire started at its base. Then Vayu stepped up and blew gently. The flames rose, till soon the branches at the very top of the tree were on fire. The heat from the burning tree forced them to take a step backwards. Then Varuna opened his eyes and pointed towards a little stream. A jet of water sprang from it, high into the air. As it came down, it doused the flaming tree.

Mitra turned to Indra and raised his eyebrows.

'What about you? Don't you have a trick or two to show me?'

'I'm not sure, Master. But do you remember the little thunderstorm during the Dvanda this morning?

'Yes . . . unusual for this time of the year.'

'I think I made it happen.'

Mitra marvelled at the prowess of his pupils. Yet his pride was tinged with regret. His time as their teacher was nearing an end. His students were no longer men, but gods.

***

Unlike the funerals usually reserved for Deva warriors, the funeral ceremony for Vasu and Pusan was a solemn one. The manner of their passing, especially that of Vasu, had been too tragic for the customary celebration.

Mitra stood alone in a corner and mourned the passing of his friend. As they lit the funeral pyres, Madri tried to jump into the flames and join her husband. It took all of Mahisi's strength to hold her back. Sachi gently pulled her mother away and held her close as she watched the flames. Although her beautiful face was calm, a heavy cloud of grief hung over it, and this did not escape Mitra's notice. As the flames rose, her eyes met his but showed no sign of acknowledgement or recognition.

Indra sat on the bank of the Mara near the ashram, his mind occupied by thoughts of Sachi. It pained him that he couldn't be at her father's funeral--Mitra had strongly advised Indra and his companions against it. Tempers could flare up among Pusan's supporters if they saw Indra at the funeral looking hale and hearty. Maybe it was for the best that she would not see him there. What if she hated him? It would not be surprising. Even if she forgave him for killing her brother, could she ever forgive him for her father's death? Perhaps there was a way: he would be the best husband in the world to her. She would want for nothing: children, jewellery, kingdoms . . . he would lay the world at her feet. Then perhaps with the passing of time she would learn to forgive him.

'Indra, come quick! You cannot miss this.'

Soma's voice brought him back from his thoughts. He turned to his friend.

'You remember that big black bull that we used to be scared of as kids? Vayu is trying to wrestle with it.'

Before Indra could reply, something made him look up. He saw a big black mass flying across the river. It was the bull. The soft grass on the opposite bank cushioned its fall. It rolled a couple of times and got to its feet with a groan.

Indra shook his head and said, 'Maybe it's best if you'll stay away from Aryavarta for a little while.'

***

It was late by the time Mitra got back to the ashram. The whole day had gone in mingling with the nobility in Aryavarta. Mitra found politics tiresome, yet it was necessary. Indra's absence from Aryavarta had fuelled several rumours, including one that he had died from his wounds. The other, more dangerous rumour spread by Pusan's sympathisers, was that Vasu's death was not an accident, but murder. While no one openly questioned his right to the throne, Vasu's death had left a sour taste in the mouths of even Indra's most ardent supporters.

Now as he lay in bed, he was unable to sleep. He had not told Paras what he had learned from the boys. It was best nobody knew till the time was right. He knew now that all that was left for him to do was to teach the boys to handle their powers with responsibility. But how would he be able to hide their gifts from the citizens of Aryavarta? There was also the delicate matter of Indra's marriage: it was the only way to keep the Devas united. But would Sachi agree to marry the man who had killed her brother and was suspected of having murdered her father? Finally, his exhaustion got the better of him and he drifted into a deep sleep.

Mitra rose early, well before sunrise, and went down to the riverbank to perform his morning ablutions. As he rose from his customary dip, he heard a voice from the opposite bank.

'The air in Gandhar is heavy with the weight of your troubles, old friend.'

Mitra looked up and saw a familiar figure; in his hand was a staff with a crook. He bowed respectfully.

'Greetings, Master Bhrigu. It gladdens my heart to see you.'

Mitra watched with a smile as Bhrigu bounded across the river towards him, his feet barely causing a ripple as they skimmed over the surface of the deep, fast-flowing water. The two men embraced warmly. Mitra led him to his hut and offered him some fruit and a bowl of milk.

Mitra waited for the sage to finish his meal and then said, 'Your arrival is like a godsend to me. I am sorely in need of your counsel.'