The Guardians of the Halahala (8 page)

The sadhu nodded. “Its power rests not in its blade, but in its hilt.”

The king once again cast his eye over the obsidian hilt, then looked at the sadhu and gave an impatient shake of his head. “Your story is all nonsense,” he said. “Tell me what you really want, or I shall...”

“Hold the dagger against the light and look through the hilt,” the sadhu spoke imperiously.

Vikramaditya narrowed his eyes at the sadhu's irreverent tone.

“Go on,” the trespasser urged, lowering himself into a cushioned chair without invitation.

The king glared at the sadhu for a moment. Then he slowly raised the dagger to the light, his expression still thoroughly unconvinced. Yet, a moment later, his face underwent a dramatic transformation as he stared, mesmerized, at the dagger.

For in the opaque blackness of the hilt, he saw a strange light.

It wasn't the dull, yellowish light of the lamps refracting through the glassy stone. It wasn't even a light coming
through
the stone. It was a light coming from
within
the inky blackness of the hilt, iridescent blue, speckled with gold and silver motes, pulsating with life.

After what seemed to him like eons, Vikramaditya lowered the dagger and turned to the sadhu.

“What is inside this hilt?” he asked in a hushed awe.

“What do you know about the Halahala?” Instead of answering, the sadhu posed a question of his own.

“The Halahala...?” The king paused in surprise. “It was that all-destroying poison that the devas and asuras accidentally churned out of the White Lake while looking for the Elixir.”

“Yes, the scourge from the White Lake,” the sadhu nodded, pointing to the dagger's hilt.

Vikramaditya stared at the dagger in his hand, then looked back to the sadhu in confusion. “You're saying that what I saw in this hilt is that Halahala?”

“A very, very small portion of it, yes. Yet, infinitely potent and capable of doing immense harm.”

“But... but that can't be,” the samrat argued. “The Halahala was destroyed by the mighty Shiva before it could annihilate the three worlds.”

“No, not all of it,” the sadhu shook his head in regret. “One little portion of the toxin escaped destruction due to great greed and cunning – the portion now in your hands. And unfortunately, knowledge of the poison's existence has spawned even greater greed and cunning – the greed and cunning to possess the Halahala at any cost.”

“How do you know this?” the king's voice was filled with wonder.

“Like I said, it's a long story, so pull yourself a chair. I shall tell you the untold story of the Halahala – which began with a little-known but sly asura by the name of Veeshada.”

Veeshada

V
eeshada was one of the asuras the sages Brihaspati and Shukracharya picked to transport the Halahala from the shores of the White Lake to Mount Kailasa,” the sadhu commenced his narrative. “Much as all the other devas and asuras who were assigned the task, he was of formidable character, with mastery over the dark arts.”

“Now, even by asura standards, Veeshada was blessed with an extremely crafty and calculative mind, and as the band of devas and asuras made their way over the Himalayas with the deadly Halahala, a devious plan hatched in Veeshada's head.”

“The asura had witnessed the havoc that the Halahala had caused, and it dawned on him that a poison with such devastating effects would be of great value to the asuras in their struggle for supremacy against the devas. He understood that a small quantity of the Halahala was all that was needed to shift the balance of power in favor of the asuras – they could perpetually hold Devaloka to ransom under its threat.”

As the sadhu paused to collect his thoughts, Vikramaditya listened in rapt attention. “ From Brihaspati and Shukracharya's conversations, Veeshada had also gathered that before the rock had been broken, the Halahala was contained in a vacuum inside the boulder,” the sadhu continued. “So, as the group journeyed to Mount Kailasa, Veeshada secretly fashioned a dagger with an obsidian hilt, and created a small chamber within the hilt.”

The samrat's eyes widened, and he once again raised the dagger and held it delicately to the lamps, marveling at the blue light beating inside the hilt.

“On the second night of the journey, as a furious blizzard swept through the mountains and the devas and asuras huddled from the cold and slept, Veeshada sneaked a few ounces of the Halahala into the chamber concealed in his dagger's hilt. Using his magical powers, he then sealed the stolen poison into a vacuum before fleeing into the night, making for the asura dominions.”

“Didn't the rest of the devas and asuras notice Veeshada's absence the next morning?” Vikramaditya interjected.

“They did, but they assumed that he had blundered in the dark and was claimed by the blizzard,” the sadhu answered. “And anyway, their main concern was bringing the stone to the Eternal Cave. So they suspected nothing of Veeshada's treachery – until I told them about it.”

“You
told them?” The king's eyebrows rose sharply. Pausing to place the dagger back on the table, he asked, “Who are you? You still haven't told me how you know all this.”

The sadhu smiled... and for a brief moment, he seemed to fade a little in the light of the guttering lamps. Then, as the king blinked rapidly, certain that his eyes were playing tricks on him, the sadhu appeared to grow in form. At the same time, a mellow phosphorescence enveloped the figure for a fleeting moment.

And in that moment, as the cosmic beat of the
damaru
roared in his ears, Vikramaditya saw the white, crescent moon adorning the sadhu's matted locks, and noticed the tinge of blue iridescence around his throat.

The vision was gone in a flash, and when the king looked again, all he saw was the sadhu seated before him, quietly stroking his beard. But Vikramaditya knew what he had seen was no illusion. Without taking his eyes off his visitor, he rose from his seat and dropped to his knees with folded his hands.

“Pardon my insolence, Mahadeva, but I did not recognize you because of your disguise,” he whispered.

“It is just as well,” Shiva smiled benignly. “Had people been able to see through it, the whole purpose of a disguise would have been defeated.”

“I am blessed, gurudev,” the king remained on his knees, his head bowed.

“Rise, samrat, and take your seat,” Shiva commanded. “Time is short and I have much to tell you about the Halahala.”

The king returned to his chair and Shiva took up the thread of his narrative.

“Once I had consumed the Halahala, the devas and the asuras were overjoyed. But I put a stop to their rejoicing by informing them of Veeshada's flight. I told them where to find the asura, and commanded them to retrieve the dagger and bring it to me.”

“But gurudev, you are the Omniscient One, the mightiest of the ancient gods,” Vikramaditya interrupted. “Why did you have to send the devas and asuras after Veeshada when you knew where he was and could have stopped him yourself?”

“Indeed I am omniscient, but it was not in my destiny to stop Veeshada,” answered Shiva. “It was in the destiny of the devas and asuras to prevent him from doing his mischief – just as it is now in your destiny to prevent them from doing theirs. Now let me get on with my story.”

The king bowed in acknowledgment, and Shiva continued. “The devas and asuras did as I bid them, and for two days they pursued Veeshada. They finally cornered him in an underground cavern and ordered him to yield the dagger. The wily asura, however, tried to incite his brethren against the devas, telling them how they could rule over the devas with the help of the Halahala. The uneasy standoff ended when a deva finally slew Veeshada and took control of the dagger. But the damage was done.”

Shiva paused and looked at the dagger with sad eyes. “Veeshada had succeeded in opening the devas' and asuras' eyes to the true power of the Halahala. He had kindled in their hearts the greed to possess the dagger. Even when they returned to Kailasa, their reluctance to part with the dagger was plain on their faces. What I had feared had come to pass. I saw the Halahala would never again be safe from the devas and the asuras.”

“But couldn't you have put an end to the matter by consuming the remaining Halahala as well, Mahadeva?”

“The Halahala is the most hazardous of substances in all three worlds,” Shiva spoke with patience. “Even the ancient gods dread it, which was why it was cast into the depths of the White Lake in the hope that it would never be found. It nearly destroyed me when I swallowed it the first time. There is no way I could survive a second exposure to the poison.”

Rising from his seat, Shiva strolled over to the window. He stood for a while in silence, before turning back to Vikramaditya. “You see my predicament, samrat?” he asked. “Here I am in possession of a poison that cannot be destroyed, one that both asuras and devas desperately crave after. But I cannot allow either to get hold of the Halahala – for if one or the other succeeds, the fragile equilibrium of the cosmos will be broken and the three worlds will topple into chaos. So, ever since that fateful day so many thousand years ago, I have been forced to protect this dagger from the evenly matched rivals.”

“Forgive my ignorance, gurudev, but the Halahala would give the celestial devas a great advantage over the demonic asuras of Patala,” the king pointed out. “Isn't this desirable for the triumph of good over evil?”

“The universe is all about balance, samrat,” Shiva shook his head. “The forces of light and darkness are meant to keep a check on one another. If one becomes too powerful and starts overrunning the other, that balance will be upset. For the tyranny of virtue is as unbearable as the stranglehold of vice.”

Shiva paused and gave a dry chuckle. “And as you will discover for yourself, the devas are not above deceit and viciousness when it comes to getting what they want. So, the question of good triumphing evil doesn't arise.”

The room was silent for a while as Vikramaditya pondered over Shiva's words. At last, raising his head, he asked, “Why have you brought the Halahala to my safekeeping, Mahadeva?”

“What choice do I have? I can trust neither deva nor asura with it. The only option left is to entrust the dagger in the care of mankind, the neutral force between Devaloka and Patala. And there's no better man than you for this task, samrat.”

“But can't you continue protecting the dagger, gurudev?” the king protested. “No deva or asura would dare take the Halahala from
you.
It is safest in your hands.”

“You are right,” Shiva conceded. “But I am a
yogi
in pursuit of transcendence through meditation. The Halahala is a constant distraction, tying me down to the material world. It prevents me from fulfilling my dharma and achieving enlightenment. For thousands of years I have been bound by the responsibility of protecting the dagger – to have done otherwise would be putting the universe at risk. But I cannot be untrue to myself and my dharma any longer. It is time to bequeath the Halahala to its rightful custodian and set myself free.”

Vikramaditya once again lapsed into brooding silence. When he finally addressed Shiva, his voice was troubled.

“It is a privilege that you have chosen me to guard this dagger, gurudev. But I fear that I will fail in honoring your trust. The responsibility of protecting the Halahala from the gods of Devaloka and the demons of Patala is too heavy a burden for one man to bear.”

“Yet I don't doubt your capabilities for a moment, Samrat Vikramaditya,” Shiva responded levelly. “Else, I wouldn't have made a journey this far. And who says you are alone? You have nine of the best warriors on earth by your side. And if I must add, you and your Council of Nine don't have a choice in this matter – all your destinies are already interlinked with that of the Halahala.”

Following a silence that seemed to last forever, the king heaved a huge sigh and looked into Shiva's face. “As you wish, Mahadeva,” he said, his voice ringing with resolve. “My Council of Nine and I swear to protect this dagger till our last breath.”

“I am grateful to hear that.” Shiva seemed reassured by Vikramaditya's words. “I can now return to the Eternal Cave in the knowledge that the dagger is safe with the Guardians of the Halahala.”

***

The ambience within the council chamber was sepulchral, the air perfectly still, as though eavesdropping on every word being uttered in the room. Even the thin lace curtains on the windows hung straight down, heavy like hessian, as if mindful of the seriousness of the occasion.

“Did Mahadeva give any indication of what the devas and the asuras would do next?”

The question came from Acharya Vetala Bhatta, who was sitting at the council table, next to Vikramaditya.

“No, he didn't,” the king answered, looking around the table.

To his left were the raj-guru, Kalidasa, Kshapanaka, Shanku and Dhanavantri. To the right of the table were seated Vararuchi, Ghatakarpara, Amara Simha and another man in his early fifties. He was of medium build, with a brown, clean-shaven face scarred with pockmarks. A long mane of white hair swept back from his broad forehead, and his eyes were deep and pensive under thick white eyebrows. A black, wooden crutch rested against the arm of his chair.

“All he said was that it wouldn't be long before they come to know that the dagger is in Avanti,” Vikramaditya continued. “And that it is inevitable that both sides would make efforts to claim it.”

“And these efforts would include the use of force,” Amara Simha leaned his brawny forearms on the table, his ferocious eyes following the pattern of the sun-crest ensign on its surface.

“In all probability, yes,” the samrat responded, although Amara Simha hadn't exactly posed a question. “But the Omniscient One did say that the devas and asuras will probably try other means first.”

“Yes... Appeals to our conscience, bribery, subtle threats, dire warnings...” the Acharya nodded. “Force will probably be the last resort – when everything else fails.”

“Not to forget, there might be outright attempts to steal the dagger through trickery as well,” cautioned Vararuchi. “Both devas and asuras are masters of the dark arts.”

As heads nodded around the table in agreement, the king addressed Vetala Bhatta. “We have to assume that the devas and asuras will take recourse to magic, raj-guru. We will need some potent spells to protect the dagger.”

“I will do what I can,” the Acharya heaved a sigh, mild worry lines creasing his brow. “But we must realize that the devas and asuras possess knowledge of sorcery that far exceeds what is known to man.”

“We will have to do the best we can,” said Vikramaditya.

There was a moment's pause in the conversation. It was broken by Kshapanaka.

“What should we expect once the devas or the asuras decide to use force against us?”

“I don't know – but the Omniscient One did say that we have to be prepared for the worst things imaginable in the three worlds.”

Anxious glances were exchanged as everyone shifted uncomfortably in their chairs. The king turned to the pockmarked man seated beside Amara Simha. “A lot would probably depend on your inventions, Varahamihira.”

The elderly man nodded once, but offered no verbal response.

Vararuchi leaned forward and craned his neck to look at Varahamihira. “Do you have any suggestions?” he prodded.

Varahamihira shrugged and spread his hands. “What can I say? I wouldn't know what to do until I have an idea of what we are dealing with.”