KRISHNA CORIOLIS#6: Fortress of Dwarka (18 page)

Slowly, by degrees, he returned to himself. His consciousness drew inwards until once more it was contained within the limits of his own flesh, blood and bone. The cage of his body re-established its temporal dominance over his brahmanic essence, restraining it. His breathing slowed to the hibernation pace that had enabled him to survive the long stay in the cave. His mind sensed no further threat, no other presence. He began to prepare himself to return to the long slumber from which the Yavana had so rudely awakened him. His basal metabolic rate reduced steadily, controlled through the yogic science of pranayam breathing, the blood slowed in his veins and arteries, the heart itself beat less frequently. In moments, he was ready to lapse back into the deep dreamless sleep that had enveloped him earlier. He was still lying supine on the cave floor, his body still partially in hibernation, and now he allowed himself to drift back in unconsciousness.
 

But even as his eyelids began to droop and he started to fall into the well of sleep, something alerted his senses. Through his closed eyelids, he sensed illumination within the darkened cave. He reacted. Opening his eyes he looked out angrily, ready to blast any intruder into ash again. His lips parted to utter the same challenge he had issued earlier to the Yavana.
 

But before he could mouth the single word, he saw the being that stood before him.
 

This was no mere mortal, like the Yavana.
 

This was a being of superior ilk. Jet black as a monsoon stormcloud, with flashes of deep blue light within his body, under his skin. Clad in a garb of yellow silk that contrasted with his crow black complexion yet enhanced his beauty. His face benevolent and beatific, glowed with a deep blue luminescence that could not be matched by any source on earth. Earrings shaped like alligators glittered and dangled from his sensually shaped ears. The One in the Cave observed the earrings stirring and realized that they did not merely resembled alligators, they
were
alligators. Life-size and very much alive. He could not fathom how life-size alligators could be dangling from a man’s ears until he realized that this was clearly no mortal man. Scale and relation had no meaning where this being was concerned.
 

His body was lithe, athletic, beautifully shaped, his chest broad and sloping, his neck adorned with a vaijayanti garland. He took a step toward the One and his gait was slow yet powerful, like a predator in his element.
 

And he glowed with an effulgence that bathed the entire cavern in brilliant blue light. Not merely a light that exuded from his pores but an illumination that simple filled every particle of space around him, leaving no shadows or unilluminated crevices. It produced an ethereal unearthly effect.
 

The One knew at once that he was in the presence of a great superior being. Reawakened and invigorated by the appearance of this person of power, he rose to his knees and bowed deeply, joining his palms in respectful greeting.
 

“Namaskaram, great one,” he said. “Welcome to my grotto.”
 

In response, the being merely smiled back at him, a teasing enigmatic coyness on his effeminate lips. The One found it difficult to look at him directly, so blinding was his effulgence. He kept his eyes lowered as he continued to speak.
 

“What brings a great being such as thee to this remote cavern?” he asked humbly. “You are barefoot yet you have climbed this great height with no scarring to your feet, as if you walked on rose petals rather than the thorny crags of this great precipice. You are lightly clad yet seem to feel not the extreme cold of this high snow-bound peak. Surely you cannot be a mortal. You are most certainly a Deva descended to earth for some great purpose.”
 

The yellow-clad one smiled silently, listening without speaking yet.
 

The One continued his eulogy: “Are you perhaps Surya, the sun god, for you give off an effulgence no less potent than the sun itself? Or perhaps you are Soma, the god of the moons, because your divine illumination is blue and cooling rather than heated like the sunlight? Or perhaps you are Indra himself? Or some other deva or celestial body in human guise?”

When the dark-skinned one remained cryptically silent, the One continued: “In any case, there is no doubt that you are supreme even among the three gods of gods, highest in the trimurti of Brahma-Vishnu-Shiva, Creator, Preserver and Destroyer of Creation. I say this with full confidence for I have seen all three of the supreme godheads and I recognize your greatness by its effusion of brahmanic power.”
 

The being with alligators for earrings tilted his head slightly, as if acknowledging the One in the Cave’s eulogy. The One bowed his own head in thanks then waited for the Being to respond.
 

11

When
the Being did not respond for another period of time, the One in the Cave felt compelled to speak again rather than remain silent. He had experience with devas before and knew that to them, a few hours or days of human life were no measure of time at all: an entire mortal lifetime was as a flicker of an eyelid to a deva. He could remain waiting here for millennia before his celestial visitor spoke. So he continued the one-sided conversation in an attempt to hasten a response.
 

“Permit me to introduce this humble self, sire,” he said. “I am Mucukunda, son of Yuvanasva of Mandhata, of the line of Ikshwaku. An eon ago, the asuras struck terror into the hearts of their immortal foes, the devas. The devas solicited aid from all kshatriyas. Ever mindful of my kshatriya dharma, I, among many others, willingly provided protection to the race of gods and fought fiercely on their behalf. The campaign raged for an untold time until even I lost all sense of age and date, place and presence. Finally, a day came when I saw that I was alone on the field of battle surrounded only by corpses and gore. Then the devas descended from the sky in flaming chariots and blessed me for my efforts on their behalf. They said they had obtained the One named Karttikeya, he of supreme prowess, and henceforth Karttikeya could continue the work that not only I, but a thousand thousand other kshatriyas like myself, had done for countless years.”
 

“‘You have served us with great honor and efficacy,’ the Devas said unto me,” Mukucunda continued, keeping his hands joined and his aspect demure as he addressed the Shining One. “‘You put aside all personal desires and responsibilities, renounced the world of mortals, abdicated your own kingdom which was rich and filled with pleasures. You have given up everything a man could desire from a mortal existence in order to serve us. You have honored kshatriyas throughout time and have been true to your word. Ask any boon of us and it shall be your’s.’”
 

“‘Great ones,’ I said to the Devas. ‘As you so wisely stated, I already possess all that any mortal could desire: a rich and bountiful kingdom, a beautiful wife, fine daughters and sons, loving kinsfolk, wise ministers and advisers, loyal citizens…I ask only that I be permitted to return home to them to live out the rest of my days in peaceful occupation. That is boon enough for me. For a man who is content should know well enough not to desire anything further. Contentment is itself the greatest boon of all.’”
 

“Thus saying, I bowed to the Devas reverentially and awaited their benevolence. But they appeared sad and forlorn, exchanging mournful glances amongst their number. Finally, they spoke again unto me, saying ‘Oh, beloved Mukucunda, in your contentment lies an age of wisdom. Would that we could grant you this request. Sadly, your service on our behalf has kept you away from mortal affairs for far longer than a mortal lifetime. Many generations have passed since you left your fine kingdom, beautiful queens and excellent kinsfolk. Not one of them remain alive today. Not only that, even your descendents have merged into other tribes and nations, and your lineage itself is lost in the annals of history. You have every right to return to your homeland, but know that if you do so, you will find nothing familiar. Language, dress, customs, practices, all have been altered immeasurably by the passage of time. The world you would return to would be a wholly different world from the one you left when you came to serve us.”
 

Mukucunda’s heart was struck a blow by this revelation. In all the centuries he had been waging war on behalf of the Devas, in all the battles and skirmishes and conflicts, he had sustained wounds and injuries, felt pain and anguish countless times. But no wound, no pain, no suffering of war could match the agony of knowing that the very life he loved had vanished with time. A soldier sustains himself through the bitter winter of warfare on the heat of memories: take away his memories, you take away all hope, all reason for waging war itself. What would he be fighting for? What purpose remains in his life? Other lesser warriors might have raged and ranted, lost their heads and cursed the Devas for costing him his entire life. But Mukucunda son of Yuvanasva was a paragon of kshatriya dharma.
 

“‘So be it,’” he said, absorbing the shock of this revelation as a soldier on the field accepts an arrow and continues fighting regardless, “‘Kshatriya dharma demands that the moment a warrior sets forth on a campaign, he consider his life already forfeit. The moment I took up my sword and bow to serve you, Lords, I had already surrendered my life. It matters not now if it is gone. This is what it means to be a warrior. I am kshatriya. I endure all.’”
 

Mukucunda paused, gazing in awe at the great aspect of the Smiling Stranger in the cave, his luminescence illuminating every crack and crevice as if the very atoms of the rock themselves glowed in response to his brahman blaze. “‘Then I asked the Devas to grant me the final boon any kshatriya can enjoy: release from mortality. But they declined, saying that only one amongst them possessed the power to grant that boon. His name was Bhagwan, the indestructible Vishnu, and he was not amongst them at that time but if someday, it was my good fortune, he would come before me and if I still desired, I could ask him my wish once again.’”
 

“Then the Devas asked me to name any other boon. I said that I could not think of anything I desired anymore. All I wished for was to be able to rest peacefully in slumber for an age, or many ages, as the case might be. For I was exhausted from an eon of waging war and wreaking slaughter and further exhausted by the loss of everyone and everything I had once held dear. So I wanted nothing more than to sleep a great while, undisturbed, for a soldier’s sleep is as a dog’s sleep: the slightest unfamiliar sound or disturbance rouses him to full action instantly. I desired the sleep of the just and the meek, the sleep of peace and infants. The slumber of eternity. If I could not sleep the Great Sleep, then at least I would sleep until my time was ordained and great Vishnu himself came to grant me my final boon of release.”

Mukucunda gestured around the cave. “And so I chose this cavern to isolate myself from all mortalkind, wanting nothing more to do with their lives and ways. The Devas promised that I would not be disturbed for so long as I slept for no mortal had any reason to come to these remote and inscrutable ranges and even if they did, surely no man could find this grotto among many millions of such caves in these mountains, nor would they have reason to search for it. But even if some accidentally ventured here, my store of tapas energy would be more than sufficient to blast him to ashes instantly. This is what happened to the fool who came here earlier, assaulting me in my divinely granted slumber. I have despatched him without care or thought to his purpose or identity. He does not concern me in the least because from the manner in which he assaulted me and from his bearing and weapons and garb he was clearly a mortal warrior of some kind. I know not his purpose in coming here and care not to know. But you, great one, who have arrived here and now reveal yourself in this resplendent manner, you are another level of being altogether. I know this beyond any doubt. Pray tell me, what manner of Deva are you? Surely you are a warrior of great prowess? I request you, tell me your deeds. Grant me the honor of knowing thy name. Do me the grace of sharing thy conquests and exploits with me, to please a humble warrior who once served your cause. It would bring me great pleasure to know these things.”
 

And Mukucunda bowed his head and waited for a response.
 

12

The
Shining One spoke at last, yet his speech was not normal human speech, his message was conveyed through a pulsing of his blue aura, a reverberation that filled the senses and was translated by the mind into words effortlessly. For this was the speech of gods and the instant Mukucunda felt the pulsing of the brahman aura, his conviction that he was in the presence of the Supreme One was confirmed. He had lived and warred among the Devas long enough to know it was fact now: This could be no other but Vishnu Ananta in person.
 

“Dearest Mukucunda. You are beloved to the Devas for your sacrifice on their behalf. It is for the fruition of your wishes that I have come unto you. I am He whose births, deeds, titles and names cannot be enumerated by mortals, for their tally is infinite. One would sooner count all the particles of dust that have existed upon Prithvi-loka since the beginning of time than count my names, my deeds, my births and forms. Many great rishis and maharishis have attempted to count and list my exploits but even their epic efforts are thwarted because I exist not only in the present, but in the past and the future as well, simultaneously.”

Mukucunda’s eyes, so long closed in deep hibernation, were wide open and gazing with awe. The blue aura of his Lord’s glory reflected in his large eyes, the image of Krishna reflected in all its beauty within his steely grey pupils. He listened reverentially, knowing that this was a blessed moment in his existence and feeling his release was imminent.