Yakshagni - An odyssey of unbroken devotion - II

 35) Avadhi's Relief

The boy, Rishu led Dushyant to the chief of the village. Unfortunately, the headman turned out to be taciturn. He refused to speak to strangers and berated the boy for bringing outsiders to his house. The embarrassed boy then took Dushyant to his little cottage where his mother welcomed Dushyant grudgingly.

The front courtyard of the cottage afforded an amazing view of the misty valley. Sitting on a traditional charpai, Dushyant surveyed the landscape. Rishu and his mother offered him buttermilk.

"Oh, you shouldn't have gone to such trouble..." Dushyant uttered apologetically.

"You are our guest. How can we let you go without offering anything?" the woman countered.

While he sipped the buttermilk, the boy's mother inquired, "Rishu was saying that you wanted to talk about folklore."

"Yes, he was singing a song about a mother and her son..."

"Oh, that! it is an age-old one. The Pahadis have been singing that for almost a thousand years."

"Can you tell me the names of the persons you mention in the song?"

The woman chuckled, covering her mouth with the pallu of her saree, "How can we know their names? It is so ancient that most of the villagers have forgotten the song."

"Still, if you do recall something?"

"Only the headman of the village would know something. We have no clue. You must ask him."

"Ma, he refused to speak to him," Rishu said in response.

"Then, we can't help you," the woman nodded regretfully.

"What about the guruji in that Ashram, ma?"

"Haan, you can try there. But I am not so sure."

"Where is it? I can try my luck once," Dushyant probed.

"I will take you," Rishu offered enthusiastically, however, Dushyant noted the displeasure on the mother's face, so he declined the boy's offer. Following Rishu's directions, he proceeded in search of the Ashram. The road was not inhabited much and Dushyant realized that it was one of the most dangerous routes for vehicles. One side of the narrow road plunged to deep gorges, and on the other side, the mountain walls rose majestically. The roads were cut out from the rocks. In some places, the jutting and jagged rocks provided a canopy, and in other places, there were thin streams that oozed out of the crevices.

Some of the turns on the highway were precariously sharp-edged. The road sloped down towards the valley. After walking for a kilometre perhaps, Dushyant saw a flight of narrow steps leading to a bridge over River Maitsaya. He went down the steps and regarded the bridge uncertainly. The bridge was made of thick ropes, and it swayed to and fro in the gentle breeze. Bracing himself, he put a cautious foot on the bridge. It seemed strong enough, so he pushed his way laboriously to the other end. Like the boy had cited, the river gushed furiously here.

Arriving on the other bank of the river, he saw another stairway in the opening between the ridges. Huffing and panting, he climbed up the steps, contemplating the wisdom of the ancients for choosing to live in such a gruelling terrain. When he reached the top of the steps, he spotted the arched gate of the Ashram, from where, another track went upwards. Inhaling the crisp and fresh air, he went up the path.

At the surface level, there was a young man sweeping the floor of the courtyard. He was puzzled to see Dushyant, "Namaste! How can we help you?"

"Namaste, I would like to meet Guruji."

"He won't meet anyone now. He is in meditation. Guruji meets everyone in the evening. Till then, you can have a meal at our place and take a rest."

"If it is no trouble, I will take up the offer."

Sometime later, having relished the simple but hot meal, Dushyant was given a resting place in the hall. Lying on the camp bed, Dushyant took pleasure in the sight of the snow-covered summits and fell into a slumber.

***************

Shankaran handed the keys of Avadhi to Maurya. However, Maurya had qualms about entering the house. He asked gravely, "What about the bones you said you had found here?"

"I found them outside the house. I don't know if they are inside," Shankaran's words offered no assurance and Maurya glanced at Dharma doubtfully.

"If you are the one, who is supposed to open the house, then you must do it," Dharma observed.

Somewhat wary, Maurya made his way through the veranda to the main door. He shoved the key into the rusted iron lock. By current standards, the lock was quite big. After many attempts, the lock broke open. Yanking it out of the latch, Maurya pushed open the heavy doors. At first, they didn't budge, but after many thrusts, they reluctantly creaked open. Cobwebs covered the doorway and giant wood spiders were edging closer to their prey. Maurya stepped back in revulsion.

Shankaran suggested, "I will ask someone to clean the place. Maybe then, you can enter."

"Good suggestion," Maurya agreed.

In the languishing silence of the house, their words echoed. A familiar but very pungent odour assaulted Dharma's senses. She frowned, trying to recognize the unpleasant smell. She put one foot inside the doorway.

"Wait, Dharma, let it be cleaned first, then we will go inside..." Maurya grasped Dharma's elbow to hold her back.

Dharma shook her head, tugging out of Maurya's grip. Digging out a handkerchief from her bag, she demolished the tangled webs on the doorway by flailing them off with the piece of cloth. Coughing and sneezing, she entered the house without any hesitation. The rancid smell drew her inside. A disgruntled Maurya followed and an apprehensive Shankaran tagged after Maurya.

The house was in shambles. Weeds had overtaken the cracks on the walls and vines had twisted around the pillars, growing towards the ceiling. There was no furniture except for a square chunk of a heavy stone; there was decayed moss all over it. The walls had blackened with the seepage of rainwater it and the neglected house had been colonized by white ants.

"Good lord, this is awful," Shankaran murmured, clutching a handkerchief over his nose. Something slithered across the floor and a disconcerted Shankaran jumped back in fright. Before they could locate or identify, it had crept back to its hide-out.

Strangely, Dharma was not alarmed. With latent intuitiveness, she picked up the thoughts and feelings that had transpired in Avadhi long ago. There were unrequited desires that had been trapped inside the four walls. There had been no escape. Attuned to the vibrations in the house, Dharma recognised the sorrow of a haunted woman, her heart-breaking cry for a lost love. Similar to what Dharma had learnt about Jalindra. They had yearned for each other's love.

Trembling at the sudden insight, she blinked at Maurya in the darkness. Sensing her gaze on him, he went closer to Dharma.

She murmured, "Jalindra's love...."

"What?" Maurya asked mystified.

In a daze, she whispered, "The woman who had lived here was Jalindra's love..."

Her words resonated around the house. The gloom that had wrapped the house in grief, dispersed unhurriedly as Avadhi felt the presence of the eternal lovers.

Like the chirping of birds on a pristine morning, the arrival of the kindred souls from a distant land and a distant time diffused the noxious stillness, and in its place, a warm glow of life and energy weaved in.

A brown tile, dangling perilously from the roof, slipped down. It fractured into pieces, shattering the sullen silence of Avadhi.

All three; Dharma, Maurya and Shankaran stared at the fragmented pieces and at the gaping hole on the ceiling with bewilderment. A moment later, sunlight streamed through the aperture, lighting up the whole house.

Shankaran looked hard at Dharma and asked in disbelief, "Do you know to read Akashic records?"

"What records?" Maurya quizzed.

"In Theosophy, there is something called Akashic records. It is like a compilation of universal thoughts and events. It registers all the desires, thoughts and experiences of the past, the present and the future of our planet. Some humans can perceive it, and a few get access to others' thoughts if they have been allowed by the other soul to understand his or her desires..."

"No, I don't know anything about it," Dharma answered while Maurya sensed the fading darkness in Avadhi.

"We should open the back door and allow air and light into the house," Dharma suggested.

"Yes," Shankaran agreed and they moved to the next room. There were three rooms in the house and they were built in a row. When they stepped into the middle room, its violent stench repelled them.

Wriggling her nose at the odour, Dharma's mind retrieved memories of a dense forest, friends and folk songs. She recalled a vague childhood. The drifting images disturbed her and she looked around for some indication. In a corner, there was a large mortar and a pestle, made of granite. Ants were crawling all over them. Traces of the substances used for grinding lingered in the air.

"I suppose there is an ant kingdom here..." Maurya chaffed.

Recognizing the smell, Dharma exclaimed, "Oh, that is sandalwood powder!"

Shankaran's eyes skimmed over the mortar, and he asked suspiciously, "How can it be sandal? It looks black, and insects usually stay away from the sandal."

"But they are decayed, and over the years, they have rotted away, so their antiseptic effects are gone," Dharma clarified.

Unable to bear the stink, they moved to the last room where the walls and the floor were scribbled with illegible script and drawings. There were sketches of trees, plants, waterfalls and hills. Dharma pivoted on her heel, to scrutinize the drawings and scribblings on all the walls.

"I don't understand why Mahendran said that it belongs to me. I can't find a trace of anything that is related to my memories or a family," Maurya muttered, kicking away a dried stick.

Shankaran knelt to inspect something in the centre of the room.

"Have you found another piece of bone?" Maurya asked scathingly, earning an irate glance from Dharma. A rat skittered across the room suddenly, startling Dharma.

"There are rats, termites, probably snakes and god knows what else... Dharma, let us leave. It is reeking of foul odour."

"Shh...there is that sound," Dharma said in a hushed tone.

"What sound now?" Maurya grimaced at her.

"There is water underneath the house..."

"Probably! There is a river close by," Shankaran murmured distantly, his attention focussed on the floor, "There is a trap door here..."

Both Maurya and Dharma scanned the trapdoor with interest. While Maurya bent down to examine it, Dharma was distracted by the sketches all around her. Towering trees, the Sun, the Moon, stars, hills, and rivers; were drawn in a distinct style. Dharma frowned at them, trying to recall where she had seen such illustrations. There was a unique sketch of a galloping horse. Dharma studied it, shuddering at the recollection of a white horse bolting away from her sight. She paid keen attention to the ring around the horse. Two intersecting lines were drawn inside the ring.

"I have seen the ring somewhere else..." she murmured. It occurred to her then that she had seen an identical ring on Jalindra's cenotaph.

"I have seen the circle and the intersecting lines inside it, on Jalindra's cenotaph," Dharma revealed aloud.

Maurya glanced at the drawing, "What about the verse?"

Only after Maurya pointed this out, did Dharma notice the couplet of verses on the horse's body. She could not decipher it.

"I guess it is the same poem describing river Yakshagni," Dharma answered.

"Yakshagni?" Swivelling around, Shankaran demanded.

"Yes, have you heard of the river?" Dharma queried.

"Of course! It is an ancient river. You saw earlier the river that passes this village. It ultimately joins the river that had been known as Yakshagni and then flows into the sea."

"There must be something really special about this river," Dharma expressed in a subdued voice, recalling Dushyant's words about hoping to tell her the connection between Yakshagni and Jalindra one day.

"You will have to ask my friend Dushyant. He is the one doing research on it."

"Your friend?" Maurya challenged, puzzled about Shankaran's reference to Dushyant.

"Oh yes, he is my friend. Do you know him?"

"Yes, we met him in Modhera. We had our fashion show there."

"Right, he was in Modhera recently. But it is a surprising coincidence that you bumped into each other."

"How long have you known him?"

"We trained together under Mahendran. He taught us special subjects."

"Oh, quite a coincidence, isn't it?" Maurya asked curiously.

"Yes, very much. Dushyant was one of Mahendran's favourite students."

"What a small world we live in...."

"True, we move in circles. We come across many junctures where we had been before."

His words reminded Dharma of the woman who had spent years in the house. What had trapped her inside Avadhi?

Her gaze caught sight of the trapdoor, "Maurya, the sound of water is coming from that trapdoor. There is something below the lid."

Maurya glowered at the trap door and proclaimed disapprovingly, "Are you crazy? We are not going to open the damn thing."

"We have to see what is below the door. There must have been a compelling reason for your mentor's request. Something must be here that is significant to you..." Dharma insisted.

"Significant to him and his soulmate," Shankaran added.

Dharma's questioning eyes slid to Shankaran. Discerning her searching gaze, Shankaran explained, "Don't you know? Mahendran's request to Maurya had been that he should open this house only when he is with his soulmate. Mahendran had stated specifically that he should not bring anyone else but his soulmate to Avadhi."

Stunned, Dharma stared at Maurya. A faint red swept over his face, and he avoided her eyes. The revelation filled her with wonder. Maurya had trusted her enough to ask her to accompany him to Avadhi. Whether he considered her as his soulmate was something that Dharma did not reflect on, out of caution.

Nonetheless, she did fathom deeper connections to him. Since she met him in Parijatpur, she had been drawn to him like a magnet. His commitment to Rashika had not stopped her from falling in love with him. At times, the intensity of feelings bemused her.

Dharma was not, however, willing to confess it to Maurya. There was another woman in his life and Dharma did not want to jeopardise their relationship for her own happiness. Sighing, she jerked back to the present.

Shankaran was saying, "Yes, there is water here and the lid can be lifted up. Do you want to see it?"

"No"

"Yes"

Both Maurya and Dharma cried out together.

Shankaran raised his eyebrows amusedly at them, "Yes or No?"

"It is best if we leave now," Maurya suggested.

"Alright, if you don't, then I will open it..." Dharma was determined to know why Mahendran had wanted Maurya to come to Avadhi.

Gritting his teeth, Maurya pushed Dharma aside firmly and tried to hoist the door up forcibly. The rusted ends did not give away easily. It took much effort and time to prise it open from the frame. The sound of gurgling water grew stronger. Dharma peered over Maurya's shoulder. He straightened and stepped back. Drawn irresistibly, Dharma edged closer to the trapdoor, unaware that the water had risen and spilled over to the sides. She encountered her reflection in the water.

The haunting nightmare returned.

She was sinking deeper into the deluge. With eyes burning, she searched desperately for him but he had disappeared.

Panic gripped her. Her feet slid on the slippery brink. She would have fallen inside if Maurya had not grabbed her in the nick of time.

His arm fastened around her waist and pulled her back. He snarled, "What the hell are you doing?"

Dharma sobbed in fear, "He is gone..."

"Who?" Maurya questioned.

"Ekveer...."