The Last Rudra

  Onish didn't know how they had managed to jostle their way in through the frenetic crowd and swarms of frenzied birds without being trampled down or getting their eyes pecked. The city square was littered with bloody feathers, dead birds. Panicked people were trying to break into nearby shops and houses. 

The swarm of birds had caught the city unguarded.

  The unprecedented calamity even made the fowler tense. Bhadra was moving his faintly glowing hands graciously, weaving the shimmering net out of thin air.

The fine net-like air bubble was shielding them from the frenzied world. Protecting them from crazed hawks and missed attacks from the fighting guards. 

"Lady, we can not make it to the castle. We have to take refuge somewhere." shouted Bhadra over the deafening raucous while making their way through the stampede.

Maintaining the shield for two hours straight was draining even for him. Not to mention the constant bombardments of the missed attacks. Panicked soldiers did not care how fatal their attacks were. He could see people getting injured as they fled into side alleys. 

"Where should I go? I hate Oman for leaving me and my son alone. All he cares about is the king, and his men." Onish felt his mother's grip on his wrist tightened as she said while looking worriedly at the wild crowd and the feathered creatures around them. The guards were too busy to help them out. After watching their helplessness against the endless swarm of birds, Onish doubted they could do better than the hooded fowler. 

"We can break into any house. Nobody refuses you, my lady. Bhadra suggested as he kicked the fruit basket out of their way.

"No, It is not safe." Lady refused the suggestion outright," Even you and I would be helpless against a house-anima.Not to speak of other lurking evils. I'm not naive to believe this odd acting up of docile creatures is just an accident." 

"But my lady, This fowler can maintain the shield for one more hour." They had been facing onslaughts all the way to the city gate. In the beginning, it was only mortal birds, but as they proceeded towards the city from the shrine, semi spirit birds joined the fray.

The evil ravines had pecked the eyes of their two ashvas 1. Thanks to the skilled coachman, their carriage narrowly escaped crashing into the trees. They abandoned their ride and walked the way to the city gate, which was already flooded with a panicked crowd. 

Everyone was rushing towards the city, for nobody could fight against the endless flock of birds, not to mention many of them were on the verge of becoming spirit birds. 

"What about Sir Roan's?" Bhadra put in as he mended the hole in the shield, breached by the red-feathered hawk. He could see his net weakening with each attack. This was the reason he hated to be a defender. But here in Varta, one must have a good defence, or you would never know when your back got stabbed. 

Though he could maintain the shield till they got to the castle, he would be exhausted and vulnerable. A mistake he would only commit if he ever wanted to meet Anubis, the death god.

Padma looked troubled as she pondered the fowler's words. The white castle was apparently a good choice to seek shelter. However, she hadn't visited the place for three years, nor had she talked to Avantika, her close friend. Wouldn't it be selfish to turn at her door now?

"My Lady, we don't have much time." Bhadra urged.

Padma swept her gaze around; Oman was nowhere to be seen. Clearly, he was still with the king's men. Their castle was nearly five miles away from the third gate. She had to make a decision. She couldn't endanger her son's life. 

"Ok, let's head over there." she said in a resolute voice.

*****

"Avantika, please open the door." Padma rapped the enchanted wooden door of the white castle. Strangely, birds seemed not so insane here. 

"Mistress is busy right now. Please visit some other time." a female voice answered the door. 

Padma knew the voice too well. It was Meriva, the house-anima of the white castle. 

Ronan had especially ordered the builders for the female house-anima. He had joked about it over dinner that had offended Amora, their house-anima, so much that Amora had refused to let him in on his next visit. 

"Tell your Mistress. Padma has come to visit her." Padma replied, feeling already self-conscious. What she would think of her -an egomaniacal. 

  No answer came from the other side. They waited on the white marble stairs. Padma's heart saddened as the time passed. Did she lose her best friend? She didn't blame Avantika. She pitied the lonely friend of her. Avantika had lost her husband long ago, and now her only hope was slipping out of her hands, too. In such a situation, who would be patient to welcome a friend who had refused to help her in need. 

She gripped Onish's arm and turned to leave.

  But her feet halted. The door creaked open all of a sudden.

Padma looked up her heart racing. No cheery face was there to welcome them this time. However, She was happy her friend was still inside. 

She pushed the door open and stepped in. 

"Madam said you can sit in the guest room and she will attend to you soon." said a beautiful face materialized on the marble wall. Long hair, the color of fire, curled around the oval face. Onish felt the sharp abnoos black eyes boring his face. He hadn't got the opportunity to understand these ghost-like beings called house anima. But he found this house-anima pleasing to the eye compared to Amora. 

"So, you finally decided to wake up." Meriva, the house-anima, said, "How many years has it been since you last broke anything in the castle?" Meriva's beautiful face saddened, "How foolish! I missed those times, those cackles resounding in the halls, those annoying doodles on the spotless walls. You know little Guha hasn't laughed in these three years. My Mistress might not know, but I listened to him sobbing in the dead night. For you, the only friend he ever had, and for his dad." Onish saw blue tears rolled down on the rosy cheeks. 

"Meriva, please don't cry." Padma consoled the grieved house-anima. 

"Why shouldn't I? Little Guha is dying. He is leaving us just like his father never to come back." Meriva sobbed. The whole castle seemed to be grieving with her. 

"Don't say those cursed words." Padma gently rebuked the house-anima." He will live just like Ishit. Where is he? I want to see him." 

"In the Mistress's chamber." Meriva said and dissolved in the wall. As if to cry her heart out in some dark corner. 

Onish followed his mother while Bhadra decided to stay behind. 

The castle was not as big as theirs. And besides, Padma seemed to know the palace like the back of her hand. So it didn't take them long to get to the chamber where Guha was lying. 

Padma knocked on the door gently, looking nervous. Nobody answered the door, except the feeble sobs. She waited for a while and then pushed the slightly cracked door. 

Inside the luxurious room, a lady was sobbing, her arms wrapped around the sleeping boy lightly. As though she was afraid somebody might steal him away. 

She didn't appear to notice her visitors. 

Padma squatted down beside the grieved woman while Onish examined the first person he had encountered in this new world. 

The boy seemed to be in a deep sleep. No aura of death or white-wifes was around his serene face. Onish eyes lingered on the red spot just between the boy's eyebrows. The pea-size spot was darkening slowly. 

The yogi's eyes widened as he took a careful look at the blood-red spot. He couldn't believe the frightening possibility. So he walked over to the bed, momentarily forgetting he was impersonating someone else and touched the mark with his ring finger. Sure enough, the spot was growing warmer. Onish didn't know how Guha had done it, but the boy had breached the wall of the world consciousness. 

The boy's life was in peril. He had to do something, or once the third eye chakra awakened, his skull would crack open.

He glanced at the sobbing mothers. Fortunately, the two women were too grieved to pay him any attention. He glanced at the calm face before him. The face that seemed so worried when the bluebird had attacked his parrot. Onish owed him his life. 

Bounded by the law of Karma and the kindness of Sages, The yogi took the risk and sat down beside the bed holding the boy's right hand. Sanatani never left their debt unpaid.

Onish closed his eyes and sent his spiritual sense into the Guha's nadi. The spirit energy was surging into them, like a river in monsoon. Onish rushed towards the third eye chakra. Guha's soul was too busy to notice the intruder. It didn't offer any resistance. 

When yogi's spiritual sense entered the blazing chakra. He realized he was too late. 

The subtle body of Guha's soul had merged with the world consciousness completely. 

His soul was still in the body, but his awareness was everywhere. In the yogic culture, it was a fatal accident.

His venerable guru once talked about it.

"You should never rush for Samadhi, it will come to you like Devi Nidra (sleep) on its own. Never breach the wall. Just watch and when you will be ready it will crumble. You will be everything and everything will be you. The duality will vanish. And you will realize the world was nothing but your imagination, your manifestation. This is called savikalpa samadhi. But remember to never breach the wall. As there is no wall to speak of. It is just an illusion and if you let it befool you, you will stumble into great peril."

Onish looked at the poor boy. He must be frightened out there. The vastness of the world consciousness was not something a common mind could withstand.

What should he do now? Onish thought. 

He had never encountered such an accident before. Though he had heard of an incident that had once shaken the yogic world.

Once in ancient Bharata, the land of Mystics and Sages, a king named Shikhi-dhwaja had encountered a similar misshapen. The king lost in his Samadhi, unable to retract his awareness to his gross body. His wife, Chunala, grew worried when the king's Samadhi didn't break even after a year. The queen, who herself was a great yogini1, decided to forcefully awaken the lost king. The brave queen had done an unprecedented thing. 

She merged her consciousness with the king's and thus traced out the king's lost awareness in the vast consciousness. The king was living a pigeon' life. Bewitched by Mahamaya1, he had forgotten his identity as a king completely.   

It was said the yogini, acting as king's intuition,  guided the king back to his body and thus saved him from his unfortunate death. 

Onish was in a dilemma. He was not sure he could pull off the same feat. Not now when he was nothing but a fallen yogi.

Should he let the boy die or take a risk to save his saviour?