Mahishasur: The Irony of Justice

By Dr. Anuradha Agrawal

Is evil hereditary? Is righteousness a birth-right? Are the Gods guilty of favouritism and nepotism?

A discriminatory and divisive society often treacherously conspires against its brothers, turning them into loathsome creatures. Marginalized by a judgmental world and misguided by a vile Guru, Mahishasur becomes the tyrant he never wanted to be. On the other hand, Indra – the narcissistic, complacent King of Amaravati, faces the demons of his past and tries to rise above his petty insecurities and bloated vanity.

The central characters vacillate between the ambiguous values of morality and truth. The chasm between wrong and the wronged narrows drastically in this fast-paced, adrenaline-infused, and thought-provoking narrative. Blinded by malignant revenge, and seething with hatred, Mahishasur starts on the labyrinthine path towards elusive justice. He destroys the world and himself, till the tragic hero comes face to face with his invincible nemesis: the Divine Mother.

Will the absolute definitions of good and evil be rewritten by the Devi?
Will the merciful Mother pardon her fallen son?
Will evil truly die, or will it expose its fangs again?

• Language: English
• Publisher: One Point Six Technologies Pvt Ltd
• Release date: Jun 22, 2022
• ISBN: 9789356106154

Dr. Anuradha Agrawal

The author is a renowned obstetrician, gynaecologist, and Managing Director of Sushrut Hospital, Lucknow. She has presented papers across various national and international medical seminars. With about twenty years of experience in her field, she has successfully performed more than five thousand operations and laparoscopic surgeries to date.She runs a social initiative known as Zarurat Bank along with her children. This NGO aims to collect old clothes and toys from its donors and distribute them amongst the needy.She is deeply interested in religion, philosophy, and mythology. She is an avid reader, active blogger, and an aspiring writer, who wants to discover herself through her work.She lives in Lucknow with her Orthopaedic surgeon husband, Dr Anup, and her lovely children, Priyanshi and Vibhav.

Book preview

1

The Conquest of Indralok

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He clutched the edge of his throne tightly, leaning on it for support.

His face paled and contorted with horror as he watched his mighty army chief fall on the ground with an arrow through his neck. More bodies followed him. Beads of sweat trickled down his forehead as he witnessed the macabre sight. Shrieks of panicked courtesans resounded in the humongous halls as they fled for their lives. The Dev Lok Rajya Sabha – a place of breathtaking splendour and unparalleled beauty, was now filled with a cacophony of noises. The wails of the wounded, the retreating footsteps of the frightened devas, and the loud thumping sounds of the approaching enemy reverberated the halls.

His overtly pompous lifestyle, amorous activities, and years of depravity had taken a heavy toll on him. These past vainglorious years had rusted his instincts, inflated his vanity, and decimated the warrior within him, though they had succeeded in adding multiple layers of fat over his belly which he cleverly managed to conceal beneath his bejewelled robes.

Indra, the King of Dev Lok, and the thunder and rain was now a pale shadow of his glorious past. He sat cocooned in his Rajya Sabha, oblivious and extremely unprepared for the approaching threat – his nemesis, the mighty Mahishasur. Mahishasur was the ferocious ruler of the asur clan who ruled Paatal Lok, and had now launched a surprise attack on Dev Lok, the celestial abode of devas.

God Indra made an unsuccessful attempt to calm the fleeing multitude.

Virsen, Virottam, he cried aloud, desperately trying to summon his bodyguards.

They too had abandoned him when he needed them the most.

Maybe they perished while attempting to protect the city, Indra mumbled, trying to console himself. He realised he was pitched alone against the ruthless invaders.

He pompously brandished his ‘thunderbolt’ in the air, but alas it was too late. Irreparable damage had been done; disaster was at his doorstep.

The hall was filled with a loud bellow, creating further pandemonium amongst the frightened masses. The formidable enemy had made his way into the sabha, crushing everyone who came in his way. His muscular seven-foot frame commanded fear and awe from followers and foes alike. His head resembled a thick mop of curls, and two horns arose from either side of his head, like an inbuilt crown ready to gore his rivals to death. His thorny eyebrows converged into a unibrow, highlighting a pair of extraordinary eyes – wild, ferocious with a glint of steely determination. His muscular torso was covered by metallic armour, out of which sharp metal spikes arose, making it impossible for anyone to come near him. He was flanked by mahadaitya Chikshur and Udagra, his mighty generals, both as nightmarish as their master. They kindled terror in the hearts of the beholder.

Hundreds of asur soldiers followed them, impaling the hapless devas with their spears. The remaining victims were mercilessly pummelled by their maces.

Mahishasur held a scimitar smeared with blood in his left hand, the viscous crimson liquid forming small pools wherever he briefly paused to assess the damage. The mighty demon held a long spear in his right hand, ready to pierce anyone who dared to come forth.

Mahishasur’s eyes searched for the man he had abhorred all his life. Indra cowered behind his throne, still unable to process the rapid and dramatic change of events. Mahishasur drew closer and eyed Indra with extreme disgust, hatred, and pity.

Will you not welcome us, O Greatest King? asked Mahishasur, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

He has asked all celestial beauties to sing for us, cackled Chikshur.

At least garland us, Udagra taunted Indra with his derisive laughter.

Mahishasur guffawed loudly, revealing his dirty yellow teeth.

Indra clenched his fists as he glowered under the insults. He knew death was inching closer with every passing moment. Was he, the King of Kings, destined to die like a street dog? They would certainly put his head on a spike for all to see and jeer, he thought with a shudder.

Shall we kill him, my Lord? asked Udagra.

No, said Mahishasur scornfully.

Let us tie him up, shave his head and drag him naked through the streets, Chikshur suggested with a wicked smile.

Or we can imprison him and punish him for his sins. Udagra tried to reason with his leader. Whilst the Generals were discussing his fate, Indra made a quick decision. It was better to run away and be branded a coward than to be beheaded by the enemy. He grabbed this opportunity to flee towards the exit, showering arrows from his quiver with impotent rage. The conqueror smashed the arrows with his bare hands twisting them like strands of hay. Mahishasur instructed his followers to chase the detractor. They, however, could not catch the sly Indra who swiftly managed to mingle and escape with the fleeing crowd.

Oh, Lord! Pardon us, we were unable to catch him, said the trembling soldiers, bending low before their master.

Let the curse of Karambh fall on him. He will die every day that he lives, said Mahishasur, proclaiming damnation upon the defeated King.

Mahishasur stomped his feet and bellowed loudly, shaking the very foundations of Dev Lok with its reverberations and proclaimed, "I am the King of Trilok now – the Lord of Pataal Lok, Prithvi, and Dev Lok.

Let the reign of Mahishasur begin!"

2

The Curse of Karambh

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A narrow beam of light entered through the gap between the boulders, dimly lighting the cave. The large stones partially blocked the entrance of the cave, allowing just enough space for someone to crawl in. A thin stream of water from a nearby water source gurgled through the uneven floor covering the adjacent rocks with moss and slime, creating the potential danger of slippage for an unaccustomed intruder.

Indra lay prostrated on a large rock near the entrance of the dank cave. He had managed to escape Amravati and had now taken refuge in a cave on Earth. With a battered ego, bruised body, and a vagabond existence, he had become almost unrecognisable even to himself.

Vanity plays strange mind games with humans and Gods alike. It is like a golden shroud that covers all inadequacies, all fallacies beneath its glittering exterior. Once shattered, the true hideous interior is revealed. The pulsating, throbbing reminders of the crimes committed, and the brutalities inflicted on the weak and vulnerable, come to haunt one’s conscience often.

Indra turned uncomfortably, thinking about the fateful day when Sage Naradaji had visited his Rajya Sabha in the capital city of Amravati. The entire episode was still fresh in his mind, unfolding itself like a reel, as if it had happened in the recent past…

The Rajya Sabha had been in full swing with all its royal splendour. Divine musicians were playing celestial instruments and exquisite apsaras were swaying to the tune of soulful melody. He was seated on his Peacock Throne sipping somras when the guard announced the arrival of Shri Narad. Narad was a staunch devotee of Shri Vishnu and was always wandering the realms and distant lands, singing hymns in praise of the Lord on his veena, which hung around his neck. He was respected by men and hermits alike, for his wisdom and knowledge of the past, present, and future.

Indra had welcomed him, washed his feet, and offered him a seat next to his throne. As the discussion progressed, he came to know about Rambh and Karambh – the two asur brothers undergoing severe penance. Whilst Rambh had been standing near the fire to please the Fire God, Agnidev, Karambh stood in water to please Varun Dev, the Lord of Water.

What do they want to achieve by their penance? Indra had asked uncomfortably.

Power, victory, wealth and the pursuit of immortality maybe, Indra murmured to himself.

Though I know the future, I am not at liberty to disclose their intentions, Narad had remarked.

Please do not even think of harming them, he had then whispered as if reading Indra’s thoughts.

"A devotee ceases to be a human, deva or asur. He transcends these barriers and is identified as only a ‘bhakta’. He becomes a formless soul in search of the supreme ‘Param Brahm’- the seeker of truth. Any harm to an innocent bhakta is a sacrilege, a grave sin with serious repercussions."

No, no, I was just curious, Indra had replied sheepishly.

As the days passed, Indra had, as usual, found himself obsessing over the brother duo even after the departure of the sage.

"What if they are praying to usurp Dev Lok?" he thought out aloud.

He had discussed his insecurities with Sachi, his dear wife, who echoed the same opinion as Narad. Calm down, my Lord. Why are you losing sleep over such a trivial matter? You cannot alter the cogwheels of destiny, so pray to your father Lord Brahma, the Creator, for peace of mind.

"What if these brothers attain immortality? What if they become so powerful that they attack Devalok? What if they start torturing the inhabitants of Prithvi Lok?"

A myriad of thoughts had crossed Indra’s mind as he paced up and down the luxurious terrace adjoining his Rajya Sabha. His fingers nervously tugging at his silken, jewel-studded angavastram.

What is worrying you, Devraj? his chain of thoughts had suddenly been interrupted by Urvashi. She was the celestial queen of apsaras and the epitome of divine beauty and grace. She was a dancer and singer par excellence, and devas, asurs, or mortal men couldn’t resist her charm and beauty. With a mere flutter of her eyelashes, she could enchant her way into the hearts of kings and hermits alike.

Urvashi, would you be willing to disturb Rambh and Karambh’s prayers by distracting them with your looks? Indra had asked her.

Urvashi was mortified by this sudden suggestion. Oh, Devraj, do you not remember what happened when I tried to tempt the great hermit Vishwamitra? He had sired a child with me and yet he had cursed me. Besides, would it not be an obvious tactic that you have employed against many hermits in the past? Indra had fallen silent after this awkward reminder of his shameful past, but his peace of mind was far away.

Day and night, he was consumed with thoughts of the two asurs. His insecurities and his affinity to his throne made him defy any rationale. At last, his malice crushed the last remnants of morality in him and Devraj did the unthinkable. He disguised himself as a crocodile and dragged Karambh, who was standing in the water to kill him.

A drop of ice-cold water trickled through the cracks in the roof of the cave and fell on Indra’s face, breaking his reverie.

It had been years since Indra had shut himself in this cave. He had been kneeling and praying to Lord Vishnu, atoning for his sins. He had become very weak as he had no access to somras, the magical elixir of youth and longevity.

Mahishasur had banned everyone in Dev Lok and Prithvi from performing yagnas and prayers. These yagna offerings also gave strength to all devas, enhancing their power. Mahishasur had strictly instructed everyone to worship him as the chief deity, and anyone failing to do so had to face serious consequences.

I have failed the inhabitants of Amravati. I am the cause of all the hardships everyone is facing. Unable to bear his guilt and grief any longer, he dragged himself out of the cave and flung himself against a hard rock.

Stop Devraj, he was startled to hear a familiar voice after so many years.

3

The Birth of Mahishasur

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Rambh’s meditation was disturbed by cries for help.

He dived into the river to save his brother, but alas, the crocodile succeeded in his intention and Rambh was left with the half-eaten body of his dying brother.

It was Indra, Karambh whispered. He taunted me before attacking me. His lower torso had been mauled so badly that it resembled a mangled mess of flesh. Rambh cried inconsolably as he watched his brother’s life ebb away.

They had shared a womb, had been born minutes apart from each other and were practically inseparable. They were like a single soul with two bodies. They had grown together, played pranks together, ogled at pretty damsels together, and committed all the silly follies that other adolescents of their age were prone to. They knew each other’s darkest secrets, had shared the strangest of dreams and wildest of ambitions with each other. They had even decided to pray at Malayvatyaksha Vatika together.

His heart bled tears of grief and his wails resounded in the skies as he decided to end his life with Karambh.

Just when he was about to jump into the raging fire, Agnidev appeared and consoled him. Suicide is no solution to any problem, my son. It is a sin to do so. You still have your destiny to fulfil, my devotee.

How? asked the hapless Rambh. Did destiny hold more misfortunes than he had already had?

You will have a mighty son from the woman you will truly fall in love with. He will be the conqueror of the three worlds, stronger than the winds, and more resplendent than the Sun! Agnidev said mysteriously, then disappeared, leaving a perplexed Rambh behind.

The world clamoured around him with its effusive condolences. Sudden frivolous distractions were created, men cursed Indra with the foulest of adjectives and the women made a great show of grief by beating their chests and wailing as loudly as possible.

But Rambh was desolate. He was too numb with grief to think of revenge and too sad to reciprocate the pretentious consolations of the indifferent multitude who rallied around him. He wandered day and night in search of the elusive peace. And then, he met her.

On one such sojourn, he spotted her staring at him with her dark soulful eyes, with an impish grin on her face. Her jet-black hair was offset by her dusky skin. She was Mahishi, a member of the Mahisha tribe – a fearsome, reclusive tribe of warriors who were known for their ink-black skin and broad jawlines. They generally married amongst themselves to keep their genetic lineage undiluted. It was rumoured that they could shapeshift to a buffalo when desired.

She was irrevocably attracted to his swarthy lithe torso, and he was aroused by her subtle velvety touch on his long, sinewy arms.

Sorrow occasionally untangles itself in strange rebellious ways, and driven crazy by her lusty dark frame, he consummated their union without much afterthought.

The unthinkable had happened: the lone surviving Prince of Susha had given his heart to a lowly tribal commoner! What started as a momentary physical attraction became a torrid affair. They married in a secret ceremony, which was disapproved by the bride’s family too.

She was a devoted wife, caring companion, sympathetic friend, and a wise counsellor rolled into one. With time and patience, she slowly