[Many people wonder why Goa takes an avatar, he can do everything okay just with his wish, with his magic. Yes God can do but he doesn’t. God takes an avatar and comes to people to trigger whatever is hidden inside people either good or bad. God comes to expose the goodness or badness inside us that is previously suppressed or hidden inside us. In Krishna's days, He brought out both the virtuous and the evil, exposing people as they had never been known before. Krishna knew each soul already and so will Kalki. The avatars create situations — time - place and opportunity which bring forth both the Daivi as well as the Rakshasi nature of humans.]
An hour later, I’m sitting in a room with my father, Nirbhaya leader Jagapati and two of his men, and a folk lady. Three Conversant Sunyas - Pavan, Kajal, and Kirit are also there.
This room inside a ruined building is big- almost three times as big as my hut at home--but I feel as though the walls are pressing down around me. I can feel no air or the air feels so hot and heavy that seems its absence. My breath is wet and the smell around is damp and old.
Jagapati stands up and moves to the window. He opens the window and gets back his seat.
One of folk lady hands me a mug of tea. I hold it with both hands, feeling the warmth of it.
All I can think is: I need air.
“Drink it,” Jagapati says, he reaches out and grabs my shoulders. I don't know if I have a fever or what, going hot and cold every five seconds, but his touch makes a chill go through me and I pull away quickly.
He says, louder. “It will make you feel better.”
I don’t speak anything.
Why he is kind to me? I think.
I turn back to the window. Outside, the sun hangs so impossibly in the smoky sky- a perfect circle without strings or supports.
“She is dead,” I say, a sharp blade of sadness goes through me, deep and quick. “We have promised her safety to her mother.”
“I can understand your pain.” One of Nirbhaya with Jagapati says, “But we were unable to help her.”
“Why?” I know the answer. everyone knows, but I ask.
Jagapati wipes sweat from his forehead. For once, he doesn't look fierce and in cruel. She looks pale and unhappy, and his expression reminds me of something, but I can't place it right away. “To know it you should know many things.” he sighs.
“Then tell me,” I say, when I speak, I sound a little bit calmer and all curious.
For a second there's silence. We're glaring at each other, and the air between us feels nothing but sadness. “Many of us hate Devatas,” he commences, drawing the word out. “But no one has the power to fight back. Devatas are not what they are being called. They are something else.”
A brief flash of terror zips through me. “What?” I ask after a sip.
The air coming in the open window doesn't make me feel better. It's even hotter outside.
“The opposite of what we call them,” he says, He stares at me for a second and then sighs. “They are Rakshashas. They have no mercy. They work for the creator who himself is an incarnation of wickedness. The real Devatas aren’t like them. They were kind and humble, of course, they were a worrier but they would fight for good, not for a merciless ruler like the creator.” he says. He is staring at me closely, as though judging my reaction.
I ask as I finish my mug. “How do you know this?” I feel a burst of the doubt.
“They are still among us. They are fighting back to the creator. Creator wants them dead but his force can’t because real Devatas can control the beasts. They live in deep mountains of Himalaya. It’s hard to find and kill them.”
He pauses. I don't really understand where the story is going, why he telling me this or how it relates to the incident so I don’t wait for him to go on.
His explanation is perfectly normal and reasonable. For a second I feel relieved and less frightened of him now. At the same time, there's something working under my chest, a dull feeling, a disappointment. And some strange feelings, a part of me that still doubts him. “Why are you telling me this?” I ask, “I’m just a Sunya.”
“You aren’t,” he says, it smoothly, without a pause or a break in his voice, and the last of my doubts vanish. “You are what we are waiting for years.”
“What?” this time Kirit asks.
“You are the Avatar who is meant to kill the creator. Old said is that one from the Sunyas will be the reason for the fall of the temple.”
“But how my Samrat can?” Kajal questions, this time.
“His strength told me what he is. When he saw that girl dying he used his strength unwillingly and knocked four Nirbhaya down. Do you think a Sunya can do it?”
Kajal doesn’t answer.
“Have you seen the terrace where your son punched the stone block, desperately?” Jagapti looks at my father.
“No.” my father nods.
“The stone block has been cracked under the weight of his punches.” he says, here lowering his voice, “that block is impossible to break even with blows of a sledgehammer. It’s thicker than you can imagine.”
“Why am I?” I ask, unable to understand what he means.
“I know some of your thieves have stolen the books of knowledge from beyond the wall.” He says, “Haven’t you read them?”
“What?” my father is shocked.
“Yes, we have.” I admit, “But have no answers.”
“Maybe you haven’t got the right book yet but I’ve,” Jagapati says and takes a leather-bound book out from his coat pocket.
“What’s this book?” I ask.
“The Veda,” he bows to the book, “said is that no one but only the Avatar can understand what the book is. My father has stolen this copy from the tower. He was a soldier there. He has given me this so I can give you when the time comes and now is the time.”
“How can you sure I’m the one?”
“The book will decide it.”
“Okay.” I took the book and bow, “the Veda” I read the title on the first page.
“It says face your fear and never bow to them who is an injustice,” I say after reading some pages.
I read a few more pages.
“I can’t understand one thing yet,” I ask, looking up at Jagapati.
“Why you are working for the creator if you don’t believe him the god?”
“I’ve no choice. My father has told me the story of Mahabharata. He has told me that stay with your enemy longer than you stay you’re your friends. That’s why I’m with the creator so I can know more about him.”
“And what have you got?”
“Not much but I knew there is something inside the tower which keeps him alive. He is immortal since Pralaya or maybe before Pralaya and the secret of his life is inside the tower.”
“What does he do with the children he snatches every year from the folk?” I ask.
“No one knows.”
“And what is Nirbhaya?” I ask, “Why you are Nirbhaya.”
“Our forefathers were the soldiers when Pralaya came. After it, the creator became a god and he used the children of soldiers as his soldiers and named them as Nirbhaya.”
“And who are real Devatas?”
“They are a holy man. Said is that they were the one who is responsible for Pralaya. The creator wanted to control the world and all the creatures on it but the real Devatas interrupted and tried to stop him. To stop him what they did cause Pralaya. Some also say they tried to break the tower but it caused the only destruction. No weapon can harm the tower.”
“I’m seeing that temple in my dream. Is it the highest building around it?” I ask.
“Yes, it is. It is the highest building and around it is a maze which changes its pattern. Some say that maze is nothing but the Chakravyuha from the Mahabharata. No one can solve the pattern to enter inside so the creator won’t die.”
“Is the maze made of huge stone blocks?” I ask.
“Yes, it’s made of mammoth stone blocks which move by itself, changing its pattern always.” The Nirbhaya leader says, “But how do you know?”
“I know because I have been seeing that temple and the maze around it in my dreams since my childhood.” I say,” If I’m not wrong then I know how the creator looks.”
The Nirbhaya leader’s eyes sparkle.
“He looks menacing, more terrible than every Devatas working for him. He is half human and a half metal. He lives in that temple or tower whatever is it because he can only survive by it. One of his eyes is read like ember and the left half of his body, including left hand, is made of metal. Though his face is the whole human except that ember red eye and he has hairs over his head.”
No one speaks, so I continue…
“The maze has a pattern. It changes every day, every hour and every minute. No one can pass the maze as it has uncountable stone chambers and each chamber has soldiers inside. It’s circular to the temple.” I say.
“We have to hide you.” The Nirbhaya leader says, “Before Devatas or the creator know about you.”
“Where?” my father asks.
“Here inside this building.” he says, “And when the work is finished you take him to in the wall and take care of never taking him back here.”
“What?” I say, “Why?”
“Because you are the only hope.”
“And what use of that hope if I will hide in the wall like a coward?” I say, “I need to know more about the creator.”
“That’s why I want to send you back. I’ll give you as many books as I can and I’ll send my trusted men inside the wall to train you.”
“Train for what?”
“You are the one but you need the training. You need to learn how to fight and how to survive. Still, we don’t know how to fight against the magical weapons of the Devatas but I hope you will find out it from the books.”
“Who will train me?”
“My son,” He says, “Tarun will train you. He will go in the wall disguised as a Sunya and will live with your teacher.”
“What if Devatas know about it?” I doubt.
“They won’t,” he says, “and if they do we should be ready for revolution.”
“Yes,” he says, “you live in the wall and you haven’t seen the cruelty of Devatas and the creator yet. The thing today you see is nothing in comparison with the suffering of the folk.”
“What do they do with the folk?”
“Devatas kill them for enjoyment. Their children are snatched away from them. No one sees the kidnapped children again. If you think the life beyond the wall is good then you are wrong. Even Nirbhaya aren’t safe. We are nothing but their slave. They send many of us to fight with real Devatas in Himalayan valleys and they never come back. No one has yet come back from the Himalayan valleys. Many of us have tried to go against Devatas but as long as they have magical weapons we can’t do anything.”
“What’s the magic in their weapon?” I ask.
“We don’t know. No one knows except Devatas. Their weapons can kill even from kilometers away. They made a sound like thunder crash and said is that the most magical weapon is possessed by the creator. It’s a lightning bolt and that’s why people had accepted him as the god after Pralaya.”
“It’s weapon of Lord Indra, the god of gods according to old books.” He says.
“We have to read all the old books to know the reality.” I say, “How many books can you provide us?”
“More than you can imagine. My father was one of the persons who wasn’t affected by the biological process of the Devatas. He was different than others…”
“What’s biological process?” I interrupt.
“It’s a process under that every Nirbhaya child passes when he grows young. That process stays inside his head and makes him slave of the creator but my father and some of Nirbhaya children weren’t affected by that process, why, no one knows. Devatas and the creator were unaware of that fact.” He says, “My father and such unaffected Nirbhaya started to collect books and help the real Devatas. Even some brave people from the folk help real Devatas.”
“Why real Devatas don’t attack the tower?”
“Because there is another wall as same as the one you know. It secures this area from Himalaya. Real Devatas can break through the wall but not in too many numbers and if they want to attack the tower they need to outnumber the Nirbhaya soldiers.” He pauses a while, “even after outnumbering Nirbhaya soldiers the maze is the biggest problem. They haven’t solved the maze yet.”
“How many Nirbhayas are there who aren’t affected by the process?”
“More than one hundred,” he says, “There may be more than it but it’s hard to find them all. They always hide as bad Nirbhaya to save themselves.” he says, “I’ll do whatever needed to do here, you have to just figure out the secret of the tower and get yourself trained for coming revolution.”
“I’ll,” I say, I say. But the pressure in my chest is still there. “If it meant to end the wicked rule of the creator I’ll do whatever I can do.” I feel a burst of triumph.
My father listening to us, hope is sparkling in his eyes. I look at the window. Outside, the sun is streaked with filaments of gold and pink, the same clolours are in my father’s eyes.
to be continue...