The Mahabharata Secret (2 page)

Pala stole out of the palace, and disappeared into the forest behind the palace. Deep in the forest, in a natural cave, were hidden the texts and the metal disk that he had sworn to protect with his life.

He placed the treasured possessions in a worn leather satchel and slung its strap around his neck.

Taking a deep breath, he left the cave, embarking on the long journey that would take him to Bamiyan.

And to his death.

~

March 2001

Breaking news on world television

‘The Taliban have destroyed the Bamiyan Buddhas!’

The news anchor’s face was replaced by a grainy video as she continued speaking. ‘This video, released by the Taliban just hours ago shows the two statues being blown up. Archaeologists, historians and people all over the world have expressed their horror at the destruction of these 1500 year old statues.

‘There is no doubt that the destruction of these ancient statues is very disturbing. But the academic world is excited about what the destruction of these statues has revealed. The tape released by the Taliban clearly shows caves hollowed into the cliffs behind the Buddhas. Concealed by the two figures for 1500 years, what do these caves conceal? This is the question that is on the mind of archaeologists and historians today.

‘We also have unconfirmed reports from our correspondent in Bamiyan, of the discovery of a skeleton in one of the caves. The skeleton appears to be around 1500 years old. No further information is forthcoming at this moment.’

1

Present Day

Day 1

Jaungarh Fort, 130 km from New Delhi, India

Vikram Singh sat in the study of his ancestral fort and sipped his tea thoughtfully. He had just spoken to his nephew, Vijay, who lived halfway across the world in San Jose, California.

Tall and well-built, with a youthful face, Vikram was fit for his 65 years and looked 20 years younger. The only sign that betrayed his age was his unruly mop of white hair. His weekly call to Vijay was something he looked forward to, right from the time he had sent him to the US to study, as a 15-year-old, after the unfortunate death of his parents in a car accident.

Even today, Vikram often wondered if the car crash had really been accidental. It had been a head-on collision but they had never been able to trace the driver of the truck. Vijay had escaped only because he hadn’t been in the car at the time.

Vikram shook his head. Perhaps he was being paranoid. But then, only he knew the threat that hung over his head today. Who knew if that threat had existed 15 years ago? It was this fear which had driven him to leave his comfortable apartment in New Delhi and live in the fort as a recluse.

His eyes strayed involuntarily to the soft board next to his desk, to the news clippings that he had tacked there. Eight people murdered in mysterious circumstances in the last two years; scientists, doctors, architects, engineers, located all over the world. Like him, they had all been men of knowledge and renown in their fields.

Vikram had been a nuclear scientist with a significant contribution to India’s first nuclear explosion at Pokhran in 1974. Ten years ago, when he moved to Jaungarh, he had spent a small fortune fortifying the fort using cutting edge technology, and upgraded it over the years to make the fort as impregnable as it had been 500 years ago, when his ancestors had ruled from the fort.

He pulled his laptop towards him. Quickly keying in his password, he opened his mailbox and ran through the emails there, searching for a particular one. He found it and read it for the hundredth time. It had arrived six months ago, just after the last murder, and his blood ran cold even now as he read its chilling contents.

Since the mail arrived, he had often thought of talking to Vijay, of sharing the secret. But he could never bring himself to do that; it would only endanger Vijay’s life as well. He would tell him but only when the time came.

Vikram swivelled around on his chair to gaze out of the large arched windows at the hillside, with the little village nestled at its foot, and sipped his tea. It was cold.

Something far below caught his eye. He stood up to get a better look. There was a sheer drop from the windows to the rocky hillside below. It was a moonless night.

He studied the area intently. Nothing moved. Then, he saw it. Two points of light moving up the road to the fort. Vikram frowned. Who could it be? He had few friends, and none of them would call on him without prior intimation. He screwed up his eyes and focused on the rocky slope below him, but there was no further movement.

For a while, he stood gazing out at the darkness, lost in his thoughts. Then, something struck him and he left the study, making for the entrance of the fort. The light on the hillside had disturbed him. If it was a car, it shouldn’t have been there. And why had it disappeared after that brief glimpse? He opened the main door and gazed out at the night. Nothing seemed to be amiss. The garden beyond lay in darkness; silent and undisturbed.

As he turned to go back, he froze.

Beyond the manicured lawns stood the outer wall of the fort, a massive stone structure that rose 20 feet in height and snaked across the hillside, circling around the fort, a protection, in ancient days, against invaders. Set in this wall was an immense wooden door, studded with spikes; the only means of getting past the outer wall.

This gate had been locked, secured by the fort’s security system, but it was now opening silently on well-oiled hinges. As it swung open, five shadows stole up the cobbled path. One of them stopped and pointed at Vikram as he stood silhouetted in the entrance.

A cold fear gripped Vikram as he realised that, somehow, the intruders had hacked into his sophisticated security system. There was no time to wonder how; he hastened back and secured the front door, arming the alarm as a single thought flashed through his mind.

They had come for him.

His instincts had been right about the car on the hill. Belying his age, he raced through the hallway and up the stone staircase, till he was at the door of his study. His breath now came in gasps.

His mind was a whirl of thoughts. An undefinable sensation washed over him, a peculiar mix of heady anticipation and dread.

He knew what the intruders were after. And he knew that the front door of the fort wouldn’t pose a challenge to them if they had been able to open the main gate so easily. His butler had been given the day off. There was no one he could call upon immediately for help. But he wasn’t worried about himself.

He could not allow the intruders to get their hands on the secret.

Neither could he allow it to die with him. He had no doubt about his own fate. It had been sealed 10 years ago.

Vikram gained the study and double-locked the door. He was aware that he couldn’t stop the intruders, but the security system would buy him precious time; something which he had to put to good use.

He had to pass the secret on.

There was only one person he could trust with it. He sat down at his desk, breathing heavily from his exertions, and mentally rehearsed the words he had carefully chosen six months ago. There could be no mistakes if the message was to serve its purpose.

The minutes ticked away as he furiously typed away at his laptop and he heard footsteps ascending the stairs. The intruders were making no effort to conceal their presence. Perspiration beaded Vikram’s forehead as he read and reread the words he had typed.

Abruptly, the door to the study swung open and a man with a pleasant, clean-shaven face and sharp eyes walked in, followed by three burly, bearded men and a shorter, slender, sallow-faced man bearing a black duffel bag.

‘Good to see you again, Vikram,’ the leader of the group greeted him affably. ‘Though I don’t suppose you will reciprocate.’

Without waiting for a response, the stranger settled into a chair across the desk. ‘I was expecting you, Farooq.’ Vikram forced his voice to stay calm.

‘Where is it then? Perhaps you have it ready to hand over to me?’

Vikram said nothing but gazed defiantly at the stranger. His right hand quietly slipped over the mouse and he clicked on it.

The movement didn’t go unnoticed by Farooq, whose eyes flicked to the mouse and back to the scientist’s face.

‘Where have you hidden the key?’ Farooq persisted. ‘Surely the secret isn’t worth dying for!’

Vikram took a deep breath and exhaled, as if to steel himself. ‘The key doesn’t belong to you, Farooq. And you won’t find it by killing me anyway. Your options are limited. You need me alive.’

A soft ping sounded from the laptop. Farooq pulled it towards himself and Vikram made as if to stop him, but the three henchmen immediately pinned Vikram to his chair. Farooq studied the laptop screen for a moment then reached for the mouse.

For a few minutes, silence hung heavy in the room, unbroken except by the click of the mouse.

‘No options?’ Farooq finally looked up from the laptop. ‘I think you’ve just delivered the key to us.’ He smiled. ‘And this makes you dispensable, after all.’

A hollow feeling took hold of Vikram.

They had discovered his ruse! Would they succeed in finding the key as well?

But he put on a brave front. ‘You’re never going to find it. You need all the parts of the puzzle. It is why the secret has remained undisturbed for over 2,000 years.’

A flicker of doubt crossed Farooq’s face, but was almost immediately replaced by a smug look.

‘You’ll be surprised at what we’ve managed to achieve with less than that.’ He gestured and the sallow-faced man reached into his duffel bag and pulled out something metallic and black, which he handed to Farooq.

Vikram gasped when he saw what was in Farooq’s hand. ‘That is not possible!’ There was panic in his voice as he gripped the side of the desk for support.

Farooq smiled unpleasantly and glanced from the metallic object to Vikram, ‘I see you know what this is. I hope you are a religious man. It isn’t everyone who gets to die with an ancient weapon used by a God.’

Vikram fervently hoped that he had planned well enough to thwart them. It was too late for him now to do anything more.

2

Day 1

San Jose, California, USA

Vijay frowned at his laptop as it pinged five times in quick succession, announcing the arrival of fresh mails. He had spoken to his uncle just 15 minutes ago. What could he be emailing him for at this late hour?

Curiosity got the better of him. Setting aside the report he was reading, he opened the mails in the order in which they arrived. He gaped as he read the first mail. It bore just two characters.

9!

He stared blankly at the mail, unable to comprehend it. Then he opened the second one, hoping that it would help him understand the first one. But this was even more baffling.

Everything isn’t always the way it looks. Sometimes you need to look deeper within. Study, the Bhagavad Gita, it is the source of much knowledge. The subject of the Gita, though mixed up, is a mark upon us for our future lives and will lead you through the door to knowledge, which you must unlock. In an ocean of maya, there is always an island of satya.

Slowly, he clicked on the third mail and sat back puzzled. It was as obscure as the first two.

I have always followed the edicts of Asoka the Great. I urge you to follow them as well. They have served me well in my life and, believe me, they will lead you on a voyage of discovery.

Vijay shook his head, as if it would help him work out why his uncle was sending him gibberish about the Bhagavad Gita and a legendary Indian king who had ruled in the third century
BC
.

He hesitated at the fourth mail, then willed himself to click it open. As he read it, his bewilderment turned into utter confusion.

If something happens to me, you must seek out the Nine. If you look for a deeper meaning, you will find it. Two thousand years of history, which I have safely guarded for the last 25 years, is yours to unlock. Follow the path of truth and you will find your way through any illusion.

Now, he was concerned. His uncle had been fine when they spoke minutes ago. There had been nothing in his tone to indicate that he was anticipating trouble. And what had he been safeguarding for 25 years? He knew that, in addition to being a nuclear physicist, his uncle was a noted scholar of the languages of ancient India. Was the reference to 2,000 years of history related to an ancient language? He frowned, unable to work it out.

The old man was definitely not senile. They had spent time discussing the progress of his company’s project to create a solar-thermoelectric device and his uncle’s faculties had been as sharp as ever.

Vijay’s hand hovered over the mouse, uncertain. There was one mail left. He hesitated for a few moments and then opened it. It was a cryptic message, again, consisting of four words.

Talk to Greg White.

It made no sense to him. He wondered why his uncle was sending him such ambiguous messages, when it was well past 11 pm in India. The phone buzzed. It was Joan, his assistant, reminding him about the project review meeting, which was due to start in the next five minutes.

Vijay looked at his watch. His uncle would have turned in for the night and his butler would have retired to his apartment as well. He decided that he would call him later that evening, when it was morning in India. The mystery behind the emails would have to wait.

Day 2

New York, USA

Terence Murphy awoke to the strident sound of the telephone ringing. He swore as he stretched out a hand for the receiver. He’d just got back on a red-eye flight from an assignment in Central Asia and had hoped to catch up on some sleep. At the sound of the voice on the other end of the line, however, he was instantly awake and alert.

‘Murphy,’ the voice was sharp and crisp, with a hint of a European accent. ‘I have a job for you. It’s urgent.’

‘India!’ Murphy exclaimed, as he took in the details.

‘Yes. I need you to fly to Delhi immediately. You leave on tonight’s flight to Delhi from Chicago; American Airlines.’

‘The objective?’

He listened intently as the caller spoke, giving him instructions.