KRISHNA CORIOLIS#5: Rage of Jarasandha Page 6

  Krishna joined his palms as well and began uttering the same shlokas Balarama was using.

  Almost instantly, the sky darkened, the air fell deathly still, and all birdsong ceased. The pounding of the surf died away entirely.

  A deathlike stillness fell across the panorama.

  The very ocean seemed to hold its breath and pause between waves.

  Balarama and he bent down together as one man and with their four hands working as two, they grasped hold of the ocean water itself.

  At first Krishna’s fingers began to slip through the water as would normally happen.

  Then he focussed his energies, directing the vastra at the ocean’s very substance, and the water stiffened in his grasp, turning into a carpet of solidified fluid.

  The largest “carpet” in existence.

  Grasping the edge of the “carpet”, Balarama and he pulled as one, and the entire ocean heaved up in the air and crashed down again with a resounding boom that reverberated throughout the world. He thought perhaps that boom might have been audible on the moon itself. It was certainly visible. Because, for an instant, they had actually lifted up the entire ocean and then dropped it crashing down.

  They waited a moment. Nothing happened. The world had shuddered to a halt, shocked at their action. Even the sea gulls flying overhead were not visible anymore. He didn’t bother to look up to see if they had frozen in mid-flight or merely landed and taken shelter somewhere out of fright.

  When another beat or two passed without anything happening, he bent down again. Balarama bent as well, moving in perfect harmony with him.

  They grasped hold of the lip of the ocean once more, lifting the “carpet” like two men taking hold of a rug that needed a good dusting.

  Once again, they heaved the ocean up several inches, then let it drop with a booming crash.

  This time the sound was a sonic boom that seemed to echo long after they had released the ocean.

  This time, something began to happen.

  4

  Something emerged from the ocean floor, rising up high above them, towering overhead. It swayed like a gigantic tower, water cascading from its sides, even a whale or three dropping off in shocked surprise to fall into the ocean below. The world resumed its normal pattern: the sky grew light again, the wind began to blow, the birds to fly, and the waves to move as usual. The surf at Krishna’s feet felt warmer though, almost like water in a hot spring spa.

  The being that towered above them bent its head. Unlike the artistic depictions hanging on palace walls, the real lord of the ocean was not a handsome man with the appearance of a guru or deva. It was a hideous distorted amalgam of species, mashed up together to produce a whole that was almost unbearable to look at. There was nothing humanoid or even animalistic about it. It was wholly a thing of the deep ocean. Instead of two eyes, it had numerous tentacles and feelers and suction cups. Instead of a head, it had undulating blobs of flesh. It had no limbs, merely a mass of flesh that stuck out this way and that way at irregular intervals, forming a whole that did not resemble anything seen by mortal eyes anywhere on earth.

  Even its voice was not a voice but a representation of human speech. Its true sounds were made by the ocean waves themselves, rolling and crashing and thundering in a pattern that made no sense to any other being, but which Krishna and Balarama could interpret as clearly as if the lord of the ocean were speaking chaste unaccented Sanskrit.

  Vishnu Mahadeva.

  Or at least, that was the equivalent of the ocean sounds that it made. In reality, the sound more closely resembled a giant sink-hole draining a few thousand litres of ocean water and fauna.

  ‘Lord of the ocean,’ Balarama said curtly. ‘You took your time showing yourself. Perhaps we ought to have displaced you entirely from your bed and moved you elsewhere.’ He nodded his head at the sky above. ‘Another world perhaps. There are several that lack water.’

  Forgive me. I thought you were merely enjoying sport. It is well known you are here on earth for your own amusement and play…The proper term, I believe, is…Lila.

  Balarama grimaced and turned to Krishna. ‘I told you to stay serious and keep away from those gopis. Now everyone thinks we’re just here for fun and flirtation.’

  ‘Bhraatr, compared to our real work in swargaloka, this is just fun and flirtation.’

  How may I serve you…Lord?

  Balarama sighed and turned back to the ocean lord. ‘You possess something that belongs to someone dear to us.’

  Name this…something…please.

  ‘He is a young boy, a child really. The only child of our guru Sandipani. He was taken by a great wave from this spot a long time ago.’

  Taken? You mean…he died…drowned in my embrace?

  ‘Call it what you will, we ask you now to return him. He was dearly loved by his father and mother and their lives have never been the same without him. They wish him to be returned exactly as he was the day he was taken from them, unharmed and perfectly alive and normal.’

  That is something I cannot do.

  Balarama flexed his hands, interlacing his fingers and cracking them loudly. ‘Or we can start relocating you to another planet where your waters may be of more use. I believe the third planet from our sun, our red neighbour, is quite parched and in need of some fluid replenishment.’

  Balarama and Krishna bent as one again, reaching to grasp the lip of the ocean.

  Wait. You do not fathom my meaning. I do not mean to refuse your demand, Lord Vishnu twice-born. I merely mean to say that it was not I who took him therefore it is not within my power to return him.

  ‘Not you?’ Krishna looked perplexed. ‘What do you mean? If you didn’t take the child, then who did?’

  It was a mighty being named Panchajana. He normally assumes the form of a conch shell and travels through my being. On this occasion, he saw the boy and fancied him as a prize to store within the center of his shell-form. It was he who swept up on shore in the guise of a giant wave and sucked in the mortal child, stealing him away. I played no part in that abduction. It was all Panchajana’s doing.

  ‘Mistook him for a pearl, did he?’ Balarama said grimly. ‘Well, he’ll have to answer for that. Where can we find this fine fellow?’

  Within my belly. I can provide you with guides to direct you to his lair. But he will not be as respectful or cooperative as I am. He is a surly fellow who keeps to himself. He enjoys eating young mortals whole. When he sees the present physical incarnations you inhabit…Let us just say that he would rather eat you than talk to you.

  ‘Sounds like a friendly bloke,’ Krishna said cheerfully. ‘Well, looks like we’re going to have to get our feet wet after all, bhraatr. Shall we proceed?’

  Balarama sighed. ‘I suppose so. I wish I had known earlier. I would have carried a change of clothes and something to eat. Swimming always gives me an appetite.’

  Several shiny-backed finned mammals popped their heads above water. Some leaped in the air, circumscribing perfect crescents before sliding smoothly back into the sea.

  These are your guides. They will lead you close enough to Panchajana’s lair. Be warned though, my Lord. He is not a being to be trifled with.

  ‘Neither are we,’ Krishna said grimly. He waded out into the ocean, then dived. Balarama followed suit.

  5

  Panchajana’s lair was dark and forbidding. The two brothers could barely see one another. Balarama used his brahman shakti to light the pores in his body. Krishna did the same. From the light that exuded from their bodies, they could see their way now. They worked slowly through the labyrinthine network of undersea caverns that led to the creature’s lair.

  Finally, far at the back of a dark grotto-like hole in the rocky wall, Krishna spied the gleaming white of conch. He put a finger on his lips to warn Balarama not to make too much noise. Balarama issued a snorting sound, air bubbling from his nostrils and drifting upwards slowly. Even though they were possessed of mortal bodies, they could breath
e underwater indefinitely by making the air in their lungs replenish itself.

  The being named Panchajana was asleep within the conch shell. The shell itself was his lair, a great gigantic formation that must have taken millennia to form. Both marveled at its porcelain perfection and smooth undulating curves. Deep within its heart, they found the being sleeping. His body was pinkish black and hairless like that of a snail. At the sight of him, curled up and asleep, they felt sorry.

  There appeared to be no need for violence. Balarama woke Panchajana by prodding him and once awake, the creature straightened its body and twisted and turned several times in shock and awe. Finally, it was able to come to terms with the realization that it was face to face with god incarnate Himself in human form.

  ‘Where is the boy you took from the shore?’ Krishna asked. He drew his finger through the water, forming an image of the boy upon the molecules of water. Panchajana peered in amazement at the floating image and made sounds of denial.

  Meanwhile, as Balarama rooted through the conch shell, he saw a peculiar thing. There was a portion of the shell that remained unfinished as yet. This portion, unlike the rest of the shell, was imperfect and ragged, with shards and sharp edges sticking out. Suddenly, Balarama understood why the conch shell was so gigantic and so unusual. He swam back to the spot where he had left Krishna and Panchajana conversing.

  ‘Krishna,’ he cried out. ‘He is lying! The conch shell itself is shaped by him from the bones of creatures he kills!’

  Krishna grasped hold of Panchajana. ‘Is this true?’

  The being sputtered and struggled. ‘It is my work! I sculpt living bones into a living home. The shell serves me well for shelter and travel. Look at it. Is it not perfect? I am an artist.’

  ‘But you kill innocent beings to build it. That makes you a murderer, not an artist!’

  The being’s stalk eyes wavered craftily. ‘What worth are human lives? Better they serve the glory of art by contributing to my work. In my hands, they are commemorated forever.’

  Then he tried to slash at Krishna with a hidden weapon. Krishna struck back once. Panchajana died instantly.

  ‘He was a weak, sad creature,’ Krishna said. ‘I did not wish to kill him. But he was taking innocent lives for his art.’

  ‘You are too sentimental at times, bhaiya. He deserved to die. He had no sense of morality. He did not even understand that what he was doing was wrong.’

  ‘Neither does a force of nature that sculpts a mountain ridge into a beautiful facade or cause a great cataract to fall in a lovely glade. Nature is cruel. The world itself is cruel. That does not mean we should destroy it.’

  Balarama shrugged. ‘In any case, you stopped him from killing more innocents. Surely you cannot argue with that?’

  Krishna nodded silently. ‘But we still have not retrieved Guru Sandipani’s lost son.’

  Balarama glanced up at the conch shell in which they stood. ‘He is now a part of his work of art.’

  ‘Perhaps. But if he died then his eternal aatma will be elsewhere. If we go and appeal to the Lord of that place, we may still retrieve him.’

  Balarama frowned. ‘You can’t possibly mean…?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And you mean to go and bargain with…’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘No, Krishna! We cannot do that.’

  ‘We must. This is our guru-dakshina. We cannot return to the Guru without completing this mission. Nor can we go ahead with our lives.’

  ‘There must be another way.’

  ‘There is none. This is the only way.’

  Balarama sighed. ‘You are right, as always. Very well. Let us go then. How shall we access that place?’

  Krishna looked around. ‘We might as well do it from the bottom of the sea. It’s as good a place as any. After all, Samyamani is not a place in the physical realm. It is a Lokaloka.’

  ‘A place that is not a place,’ said Balarama grimly. ‘Yes, I know. But it will still involve a lot of walking—or swimming. And that traveling will involve real effort on our part. Surely we could find a means of transport to get us there with less exertion.’

  Krishna patted his brother’s belly. It was hard as stone but still protruded. ‘You could do with some hard walking—or swimming. But a ride will not be amiss. We may as well use our own chariot and horses.’

  Balarama was about to ask how they could do that and still travel undersea when he heard the whinnying sound of horses and saw their chariot appear before them. The horses were wide-eyed from the sight of their unfamiliar environment but the bubbles of air escaping from their nostrils showed that Krishna had imbued them with the ability to breathe underwater.

  ‘Your chariot awaits, brother,’ Krishna said.

  Balarama shook his head in protest but got onto the chariot.

  Krishna took the reins. ‘You know. If we were merely riding I might have preferred to walk. But I love driving a chariot. Sometimes I think I should have been born a sarathi in this life, rather than a cowherd.’

  ‘There’s time yet,’ Balarama said laconically. ‘There’s nothing to stop you from changing professions even now.’

  6

  SANDIPANI Guru was tending to his vegetable garden when he heard the sound of the chariot arriving. He did not turn or hurry his work for the sound of chariots and horses were not uncommon in his ashram. His reputation here in Avanti and parts farther away as well brought many young shishyas to learn. Many of them tended to be young princes and princesses or the sons and daughters of rich kshatriya chieftains possessed of fine things. They could while a few moments while he finished tending to his garden.

  It was the sound of his wife’s voice that distracted him. For far too long, she had been melancholy and pensive, rarely speaking except to say what she must. A singer possessed of a rare beautiful voice, she had ceased singing as well. It had saddened him for he was her constant listener and when the singer ceased to perform, it was the listener who suffered. But he understood and shared her grief too well to change her mind. He knew that in time she would either sing again or not.

  Now, for the first time in years—nay, decades—he heard the sound of her voice raised high. Laughing! Talking! That beautiful melodious voice. He had not heard such joy in her tone since…since…

  He left his implements and rushed out.

  The sight of the young boy clasped in his wife’s embrace almost brought him to his knees.

  He stood a moment, hands muddied from the gardening, and stared.

  Krishna and Balarama stood beaming proudly by their chariot, watching, as the Guru’s wife embraced their son and showered him with kisses.

  The boy himself appeared exactly as he had been the day he was washed away by the wave while playing on the shore of Prabhasa.

  He turned his head and looked at his father from around his mother’s waist. His eyes lit up with joy at the sight of his father. His hand stretched out, calling Sandipani to him.

  With a cry of joy, Sandipani Guru ran to his son and wife.

  This time, he did fall to his knees. He embraced and showered his son with kisses as well, and joined his own happy voice to that of his wife’s.

  Krishna and Balarama looked on, beaming.

  7

  Vasudeva rose from his seat and came to embrace Krishna and Balarama with joy. ‘My sons, it has been too long that you have been away from us. We have sorely missed you!’

  ‘It has been less than three months, father,’ Krishna said smiling. He greeted his mother Devaki respectfully, and Balarama followed suit. ‘But it seems like years. I have missed you both too.’

  He looked out the window at the city laying peacefully in the late morning sunshine. ‘I have missed Mathura as well.’

  ‘Come,’ Vasudeva said, putting his arms around both of them. ‘Let us sit and speak of many things. There is much I wish to consult with you on.’

  They sat and spoke for a while. Finally, after having discussed matters of state and
polity they turned to less formal matters.

  ‘Your adoptive father and mother and relatives in Gokul miss you even more than we do, Krishna,’ Vasudeva said.

  Devaki leaned forward as well. ‘Imagine the heartache they must feel, having been with you all their lives and now suddenly wrenched apart? I can well imagine their suffering for it echoes my own pain at being parted from you two all these many years.’

  Krishna nodded thoughtfully, his handsome face creased by concern. ‘It is true. I miss the groves and fields of Vraj too. I would want nothing more than to return there today itself and slip back into my idyllic life of herding and flirting all day.’