Justin Davis, page 12
A sage standing by the carriage said to Jaya, “Your friend is right. Only the Avatāra can stop this horror! Pray he has truly come, and that he lives.”
“The Avatāra is born!” cried a young woman. “He is alive in this world and I live only to see his justice! I say it openly!”
“We must go,” Lokeśa shouted above the din.
Jaya resisted. “It makes no difference whether we go or stay. They will kill us if they like. I must hear what these people say.”
“Yes, listen!” the young lady said. “Kaṃsa is an evil Asura! Asuras have no mercy, no justice. They killed my infant son, beautiful as a Deva god, my only child. Now let the Asuras kill me. I already died to this world. I live only to see Kṛṣṇa destroy the Asuras. Otherwise I would enter fire this moment. Pray the king does not find the infant Kṛṣṇa! Pray, O pray, the Avatāra lives and grows quickly! Listen to that cry! Another mother has lost her child.”
Then, an elderly sage tried to protect a mother, but Asura soldiers cut him down with swords. It was horrible beyond words. Everywhere, people screamed and ran. The three friends held each other as the world swirled around them. Jaya thought of his mother in Davis and dear Joey. Would he ever see them again? If he died in Bhū-loka, would Justin Davis also die at once? Prince Jaya would have gladly given his life to save these people, but such a sacrifice would help nothing, would save no one. Indeed, while it could do no good, his death might do great harm if he could never return to his family in Davis.
Lokeśa shouted at Jaya, “We must go now. You are a prince. If you listen to these people, or try to help them, the Asuras will come after you. Their spies are everywhere.”
Jaya nodded and, with his heart in pieces, drove the carriage slowly forward through the terrified crowd. Then a deep voice ordered Jaya to halt. A platoon of black-clad Asura troops came up to the carriage. Jaya faced them and said, “I am Prince Jaya of the Central Lands, returning home from the great mountains to see my sick father. What do you wish?”
The Asura commander said, “Welcome, Prince. King Kaṃsa sends his greetings. He knows that you are traveling through his land. You will stay with us tonight as the king’s guest. We want to talk to you.”
“I would eagerly accept the king’s kind invitation.” Jaya hid his rage. “But my dear father is ill and I must hurry to his side. He begged for my immediate return. Please send my deep respects to King Kaṃsa and thank him again and again, on my behalf, for his generous invitation.”
The Asura studied him carefully. Jaya nodded to him with apparent confidence. Merciless Asuras might slaughter them all at any moment. Jaya smelled the Asura’s carnivorous breath and waited for him to speak. The Asura commander, who apparently knew nothing of Vyādha, smiled and said, “You may go to your sick father with the king’s wishes for his recovery. Your father is our friend.”
That could not be true. Jaya’s father could not be Kaṃsa’s friend. But for now, Jaya was glad he and his friends would escape with their lives.
Jaya nodded and the carriage began to move slowly. But suddenly the Asura leader shouted at him to stop. Jaya stopped the carriage. Its three passengers froze. The Asura marched back up to them.
“I forgot to ask,” he said. “What is your route?”
Fearing a trap, Jaya thought it best to tell the truth. “We planned to take the western turn just ahead. We’ve heard much about the natural beauty of Virāta, but we’ve never seen it.”
“Oh, nature lovers,” the Asura said. “I see. Here, take this pass. You will need it to cross the border.” He handed Jaya a light wooden pass engraved with Kaṃsa’s royal insignia. “The border guard will collect this.”
Jaya thanked him. The Asura signaled them to leave, and Jaya moved the carriage slowly forward. Su Varṇa dared not breathe. Lokeśa watched with unblinking eyes. This time, no one stopped them. They left the town and entered the grieving countryside.
“My father cannot be Kaṃsa’s friend,” Jaya said to Lokeśa.
Su Varṇa said, “What choice is there for your father or mine? Perhaps someday the Avatāra will change the balance of power, but for now none of us has any choice. We have no power to oppose the Asuras. If we do, all those whom we love will die.”
The carriage rolled on. The cries and shouts faded. The cool air hushed into strange, sterile silence. Jaya looked back and saw only pastoral scenes. They were safe for now. But they could not rest till they left Kaṃsa’s land.
Jaya’s impotence before the Asura horror tormented him. This, and all the pain he caused dear Lokeśa—indeed, all his problems—sprang from his failure on the spiritual path.
“What are you thinking?” Su Varṇa asked him.
“Oh, nothing. I’m just anxious to get home.”
As they entered the last village in Śūra-sena, Asura soldiers marched toward them holding black Asura banners. They were large and muscular, with ruggedly attractive features. Their disciplined movements betrayed a slight swagger. Desperate citizens saw Jaya’s royal insignia and rushed to his carriage, begging him to help. Su Varṇa squeezed Jaya’s hand, pulling it away from his sword.
“I know how you feel,” she said, “but you know we can do nothing. We cannot help these people! Think of me and Lokeśa. Think of our families. Think how our citizens will be slaughtered in revenge if you fight now.”
Jaya obeyed, but his heart was broken. Terrified citizens clung to his chariot, shouting and banging on the door, begging for help. He quickly offered a silent, desperate prayer to Devī. Forgive me! Grant me now the power to save these people, and I will dedicate my life to your Avatāra! The banging and shouting grew louder and louder.
He suddenly awoke in Davis, West Virginia. His mother and Joey were banging on his door and shouting, trying to get into his room.
CHAPTER 13
Dazed, astonished, Justin opened the door and said, “I’m all right.” His mother replied, “Your face is white. Justin, what happened?”
“I don’t know. It must have been a dream, but it was more than that. I don’t understand.”
“Justin, I’m worried. I’ve never seen you like this. Did you read that book last night? Was it the book?”
“I can’t explain now,” he said, “but I’m all right. It must have been a dream, that’s all. Don’t worry.”
Joey looked up fearfully at his brother.
“Don’t worry, Joey.” Justin ruffled his hair. “I’m okay. I’m back now.”
“Where did you go?”
“Nowhere. We’ll talk later. It was just a dream.” Justin saw that any other explanation would provoke questions he could not answer. And that would just increase his family’s anxiety. For now, it was best they believe he had had a very heavy dream.
Justin closed his door and looked at the clock. 11:45 p.m. It was impossible. He had been sleeping for thirty minutes, yet several weeks had passed in Bhū-loka.
A minute later, Joey snuck back in and asked, “Why were you scared? What did you see?”
“Look Joey,” Justin put his arm around his brother’s shoulder, “before I went to sleep, I read more of that book, and then I dreamed about it. It was just an unusually long, realistic dream, that’s all. It was just a bad dream. I’m tired. Now go to bed.”
“Did you go to another world?”
“Joey, go to bed. We’ll talk later.” Justin spoke in a tone that could not be refused. Joey begrudgingly returned to bed.
Justin was finally alone. Was it a dream? Dare he go back to sleep? Would he wake up again in Bhū-loka? He concluded that he dare not go back to sleep now. And anyway, he was frantic to learn the truth of his Bhū-loka experience. He sat at his computer and looked up key terms. He began with Bhū-loka. Amazingly, it was an ancient Sanskrit name for Earth. He had been on Earth! Of course! Kṛṣṇa appeared in South Asia, then called Bhārata. Thus, the great mountains where Justin met Devī must be the world’s tallest range, the Himālayas. The Teachers were Vedic sages. All this matched.
But how long ago did the Avatāra come? Ancient tradition claimed that Kṛṣṇa appeared in the third or Bronze Age of a cycle of Gold, Silver, Bronze, and Iron Ages. This roughly matched the ancient Greek writer Hesiod and the Roman Ovid, both of whom spoke of similar Gold, Silver, Bronze, and Iron Ages.
Archeo-astronomical calculations of Kṛṣṇa’s appearance gave a date of roughly five thousand years ago! Had Justin gone five thousand years back in time?
A chilling fact now faced him. If his dream was an ancient memory, he was now separated from Lokeśa, Su Varṇa, Devī, and Sarit by millennia. If they really had known each other, then countless lives had since passed. Were they even still in this universe? That was unlikely. Certainly Devī, and probably Sarit, would have gone long ago to the World Beyond.
If so, Devī and Sarit were far beyond the reach of the Asura Vyādha, but Justin was not. Also, Justin yearned to make up for his failure, on various levels, in his relationship with Devī. That was now impossible. Justin’s vow to serve the Avatāra, if such a being actually existed, would still be in effect. But the thought of fulfilling that vow without Devī frightened him. Though he had rejected Devī, and was then rejected by her, he still felt he needed her to serve the Avatāra. But that could not be. How could he serve the Avatāra without her? It seemed unnatural, inconceivable. Worst of all, what if Vyādha sought his revenge not only against Justin, but against his family as well? Were his mother and Joey safe? He shook at the thought.
But he must not give in to these feelings yet. His dream might not be a memory. His Bhū-loka friends and Devī might not even exist. After all, the book spoke of Bhū-loka; Kaṃsa; his capital, Mathurā; the Asuras; and of course, Kṛṣṇa, the Avatāra. Justin’s own mind might have created the rest, weaving fact and fantasy into a most amazing dream.
Yet the book did not mention the high mountains of Justin’s dream. But mountains exist in many places, not only in South Asia. This alone could hardly prove his dream an ancient memory. He must look further.
He eagerly pored over the book. Devī was on the cover, but not in the book. Su Varṇa, Lokeśa, and Sarit were not in the book. Did his troubled mind create them? He quickly checked their names and found that every name of every person he met in Bhū-loka was a real Sanskrit name. Justin had no previous knowledge of Sanskrit, nor had he ever read a book with Sanskrit names.
Anxiously investigating, he found that many more details of his dream were not in the book! Justin’s geographical recollections, indeed, the exact location of mountains, rivers, valleys, plains, and ancient cities, were all accurate. The precise locations of ancient royal capitals like Hastinā City and Mathurā, well known to scholars today, fully matched Justin’s dream experience. Satellite maps proved that his topographical memories were equally accurate. None of this information was in his book, nor had he learned it elsewhere. How could his mind know or invent such detailed information? Clearly, it was impossible.
Was Kṛṣṇa a real person? Did he really save the earth? Thrilling as this would be, it meant that Vyādha and his terrible oath were equally real. Justin heard Joey’s labored breathing through the paper-thin walls. What if little Joey was in danger?
Justin now felt how exhausted he was. For all the excitement, he fell back on his bed, unable to keep his eyes open. If he woke up in Davis, he would ponder the matter further. Exhaustion overcame fear and he fell asleep.
Justin did find himself in Davis the next morning. As his initial shock at his dream, and return to Davis, subsided, he found that he still lamented his failures in Bhū-loka. He grieved for those he might have defended against the cruel Asuras. And he still feared for the future.
Lying in bed, Justin remembered his vow to serve the Avatāra, and Vyādha’s curse. The Avatāra might demand that Justin keep his vow and take him away to another world. Justin’s family would be left defenseless. But surely Kṛṣṇa was good, not cruel. Such thoughts crowded his mind and made it difficult to regain his energy. Assuming, as he now did, that he had experienced a world that existed five thousand years ago, a world he must have lived in, he despaired of returning there. But that world must live on in his mind. In a sense, he could not escape that world, since his vow to the Avatāra, and his danger from Vyādha, were still vividly present in his present life. And the lessons learned tragically through failure would never leave him. In that way too, he could not escape Bhū-loka.
On a more selfish note, he faced another problem. Having experienced life as a prince, he could not go back to his life as a miserable outcast in a tiny West Virginia town. In the face of larger issues, he was ashamed to still care about his status. But he was fifteen years old, and he did care, shameful or not. In various ways, Justin would never be the same after visiting Bhū-loka, meeting Devī, and experiencing life with Su Varṇa, with whom no girl he knew, or had even heard of, could be compared.
Only one girl could be compared with Su Varṇa, and that was Devī. He still yearned for a princess he could love and who would love him. Yet he now revered Devī’s devotion, wisdom, and spiritual power, despite all his problems with her. He smiled to think that Su Varṇa and Devī had become key reference points in his life.
But such thoughts led to the same uncertainty and confusion now as they did in Bhū-loka. He must now focus on urgent, practical matters, which could be summarized in a single question: What was he to do with his life? He must not make the same mistakes in this life that he made in Bhū-loka. But what did that mean?
His mother knocked at the door and anxiously called his name.
“Come in,” he said, and she entered.
“I’m afraid of that book.” She nodded toward it on his desk. “We should get rid of it. I should never have bought it for you.”
This was serious indeed. Justin sat up. “I have to keep it. But tell me, where did you find the book? I looked online and the internet has never heard of it.”
“I know,” Star Davis replied. “I discovered that myself after I bought it. I found it in that little bookstore outside of Parsons, on a shelf in the back. It caught my eye. The owner, Annie, said she’d never seen it before. She didn’t recall how it got there. At the time, it struck me as mysterious but harmless. And I thought you’d like it. I’m sorry.”
“Mom, don’t be sorry. I do like it. But why did you buy that book?”
“It looked like ancient stories, the kind you used to enjoy. I hoped it would take your mind off our problems.”
“Yes,” Justin said, remembering Bhū-loka, “it definitely did that.”
Seeing her son was well, she hugged him and rushed off to do the menial work that was killing her body and soul. Justin could not bear it. His mother deserved so much better in life.
How many times had he seen her sitting in despair at her little desk, struggling in vain to write? “I feel like Jane Austen in Bath!” she would exclaim. “Nothing comes. I can’t write. I’m just so tired.”
Yet he, her elder son, had been so self-absorbed, so obsessed with his own pain, he had neglected the greater suffering of his mother. When she went out every day to work, he had cared more about his own reputation than her grinding, devastating misery.
The shame he now felt equaled what he suffered on failing the innocent citizens of Bhū-loka. There, he failed deserving strangers. Here in Davis, he failed those most deserving of his compassion. His mother had asked so little of him, only that he try to be happy, yet he had blindly, obstinately refused to give her that simple satisfaction she so desperately needed to keep hope alive in her heart. He now saw as never before that his mother was literally working herself to death, physically and emotionally, because he was too angry and morose to keep a job. For his sake she didn’t speak of her troubles, but the endless poverty and abject humiliation she faced daily ruined her health and robbed her life of joy. Behind the cheerful face she put on for her children was a broken heart and crushed hopes. She lost the man she loved. And the pride of her life, her first son, gave up on life and gave her only more pain and trouble.
In his selfish rage, Justin had even caused pain to brilliant little Joey, whose spirits and health had never recovered from the loss of his father, the first loss provoking the second. Previously blind to its harmful effects, Justin now condemned the proud self-pity that had driven him to create misery in his own life and the lives of those he loved.
Determined as he was not to fail again, as he most certainly failed in Bhū-loka, he vowed to himself that his first concern must be his family. He would not stop till he uplifted them. His mother would live in comfort and respectability, free to pursue her literary dreams. Joey would have the best medical treatment and anything else he needed or wanted. In short, Justin would restore his family.
But there was more. While his mother and brother had first claims upon his devotion and efforts, his father’s legacy demanded that he also strive to make the world a better place. With burning regret, Justin now saw that on losing his father, he had given up his father’s noble values and goals, when he should have honored and pursued them in his own life.
But what did that mean? What could he do for the world? No answer came to him. He knew he must honor his father by helping the world, but he had no idea how to do it. And Tark Davis himself had urged his son to pursue his own dreams, his own chosen career. Justin could only hope that in time, his path would become clear.
In the meantime, one fact was very clear. At present, Justin Davis was nothing but an impoverished teenage outcast, on the verge of expulsion from school.
He put his book and some food in a backpack and went to Blackwater Falls, where he could be alone and form a plan. Hiking down to the foot of the falls, he sat quietly, watching the waters dive and churn and flow into a calm, crystal river.
He recalled how weak and useless he had been when Asuras assailed the innocent, how he failed with Devī, and these visions made his mind churn like the waters. His troubled mind found peace only when it flowed into the calm of absolute resolve—in this life, he must not fail. He must not fail his family or the world. Or himself.
