Abhaya, page 1
ADVANCE PRAISE FOR ABHAYA
“An excitingly different take on one of the myriad legends celebrating the light versus darkness matrix that defines Diwali. The sparkling narration adds new facets to the compelling tale of the killing of the demon Narakasur.”
—Sangeeta Bahadur, Ambassador of India to the Republic of Belarus
“Abhaya will inspire you to be who you are, whoever you are. Read it, and get everyone you know to read it too.”
—Professor Vamsee Juluri, Professor of Media Studies at the University of San Francisco and the Author of Rearming Hinduism: Nature, Hinduphobia, and the Return of Indian Intelligence
ABHAYA
ABHAYA
The Destroyer of Adharma
Saiswaroopa Iyer
BLOOMSBURY INDIA
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First published in India 2021
This edition published 2021
Copyright © Saiswaroopa Iyer 2021
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narayanam nirakaram naraviram narottamam
nrsimham naganatham cha tam vande narakantakam
I Praise him
The essence of mankind; the bravest and best among men;
The lion among men; the saviour of the elephant (Gajendra);
The annihilator of Naraka
—Hari Namamala Stotram
Map of Jambudvipa or Ancient Vedic India
Notes:
Only those ancient cities where significant events of the story take place are shown in the map.
The map is redrawn based on multiple references and is not to scale. The author is not responsible for inadvertent errors that might have crept in during the process of redrawing.
For a more accurate map of Ancient Bharatavarsha with all the kingdoms, please refer to http://www.mapsofindia.com/history/mahajanapadas.html.
Anagha is a fictional kingdom.
CONTENTS
Author’s Note
List of Characters
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-One
Epilogue
Glossary of Sanskrit and Indic Terms
References and Works That Inspired Abhaya
Acknowledgements
About the Author
AUTHOR’S NOTE
My love for Krishna started when I was on the threshold of adolescence. The same love drove me to find him in the literature presented by many learned scholars and the compositions of Indian bards. In my quest, I found my flute holder grow up to become a kingmaker, a philosopher and a yugapurusha. Accordingly, my feelings transformed from infatuation to reverence to continuous enquiry (jignaasa). I revere Krishna today as one of the first architects of a unified India. Yes, I believe he did exist in the obscure history of India.
This story is a manifestation of my fantasies, thoughts and observations around Krishna. It explores the Narakasura vadha. This is an episode that has a rich variety of narratives in scriptures like Srimat Bhagavatam, Vishnu Puranam, Harivamsham and even the legends and folklore from Assam.
Narakasura vadha is an important milestone in our scriptures, for it extols the valour of Satyabhama, the wife of Krishna. With Abhaya, I made this audacious attempt to relook at the episode from the point of view of a fictional protagonist and, in this endeavour, I may have shifted the spotlight off Goddess Satyabhama. But the compassionate goddess that she is, Satyabhama, the incarnation of Goddess Bhumi, has given me nothing but her blessings all through. The fact that the story could reach completion itself is an assurance of her compassion.
Though the early drafts of the story sprung from the surge of defence which built up in me when I heard people deny or criticise Krishna, the current version is inspired by my strong belief that everyone can be a Krishna in their own capacity once they find their purpose. For this, I have consciously avoided giving Krishna a superhuman quality. It is not that I deny his divinity. Instead, I maintain that his divinity does not necessarily need magic. Quoting the parable of Sri Ramakrishna Paramahamsa where a group of blind children touch only some specific part of an elephant’s body and draw their own conclusions, I seek to explore a minute part of the enigmatic personality that is Krishna.
Creative liberty is not something new to Indic literature. In the medieval period, the aspect of Prabandha became popular in Telugu literature. Prabandha is a literary piece that explores and expounds a Puranic episode, taking generous liberties with the versions in the root scriptures. They explore human angles of thought and often look at Puranic episodes from the perspectives of fictional or obscure characters. They are judged by the depth of the thought and philosophy they churn out than by the so-called authenticity of the events.
It would be audacious of me to say or even think that this attempt of mine is a modern Prabandha. But I would want to thank those Telugu poets in the last millennium who laid strong foundations for taking creative liberties to get closer to the gods and goddesses we worship. As a very humble tribute, I have named some characters in Abhaya after the names of protagonists in different Telugu Prabandhas, such as Kalapurnodayam. I hope our prized legacy of creative liberty continues till the end of time.
Talking about the literary giants whose legacy I inherited being a fortunate child of this Bharatavarsha, I remember Sri K.M. Munshi, the founder of the Bharatiya Vidya Bhavan, whose ‘Krishnavatara’ series was my prime inspiration in feeling and experiencing Krishna from novel angles. In fact, I borrowed some of his concepts about Nagas and Garudas being tribes that worshipped legendary serpents and eagles.
This story—a fictional reimagination of Puranic episodes of the Srimad Bhagavatam and other Puranas—explores the Narakasura vadha from the perspective of a fictional female protagonist, Abhaya Dhaarmaseni. Be it curiosity, adventure, love or realisation, Abhaya has been my window to explore and experience Krishna Vaasudeva. I hope the readers find her delightful too.
LIST OF CHARACTERS
Krishna Vaasudeva The eighth avatar of Lord Vishnu in the Dwapara Yuga, Krishna Vaasudeva is the champion of dharma and a Yadava leader in Dwaraka
Anagha
Abhaya Dhaarmaseni Princess of the city of Anagha
Dharmasena King of Anagha
Vasumati Queen of Anagha and wife of Dharmasena, Mother of Abhaya
Vikramasena/V
Vajrabahu Senapati
Katyayana Priest
Pingala Katyayani The priest’s daughter
Kamarupa
Bhauma Lord of Kamarupa
Dhatri Chief yogini at Kamarupa; referred to as Mahadevi
Mura Senapati of Kamarupa
Others
Subhadra Sister of Krishna (Indraprastha)
Kadambari Sister of Naga Chief Varahaka, biological mother of Vikramasena and a Shakta Yogini
Vamanatha Kadambari’s Shakta guru
Anuvinda Prince of Avanti, which border the state of Anagha
Mitravinda Sister of Anuvinda, princess of Avanti and wife of Krishna
Vainateya King of Garudas (Gomantaka)
Shyeni Sister of Vainateya (Gomantaka)
Chapter One
Borders of Pundra, Eastern Bharatavarsha
Lightning. It seemed like the skies had decided to shred the land to pieces. The horses pulling the lone chariot on the highway to Pragjyotisha neighed in fear and slowed to a trot.
“Just what we needed!” Mura remarked, cracking the whip. “It wasn’t a wise idea to come without the guards.” His wavy hair fluttered, loosening the cloth he had wound around his head.
“The Supreme Goddess Kamaksha has Her ways, doesn’t She, Mura?” said Bhauma, the lord of Kamarupa. He balanced himself against the chariot’s flagpole as he tightened his silk headgear.
To Mura, his tone seemed unnaturally calm. He sighed, shaking his head. They were returning from the temple of Goddess Tara in the kingdom of Pundra. For reasons not known to Mura, Bhauma always insisted on going without guards while visiting the Shakta temples. Pundra, at least, was not very far away from Kamarupa and was a sympathetic kingdom.
“But Prabho, in the future if you want to travel to the other temples of Shakti which are farther away, would you still want to travel without a guard?”
Bhauma nodded without a trace of hesitation.
“If you say so, My Lord,” Mura shrugged and goaded the horses on, wanting to reach Kamarupa as fast as they could. The skies showed all the signs of an approaching storm.
“No,” Bhauma smiled, stretching his arms. Into his forties, he had a physique that could daunt any warrior. “Not because I say so. But, because the Goddess does. Say we are caught in the storm. That, too, is Her will. In time, we shall realise She willed it for the best.”
It would have made a good speech for a gathering in the temple, Mura felt.
“I am not capable of that kind of faith,” he replied. “Your faith does not surprise me, though, Prabho. Not everybody would have been content with a lordship of a mere temple town over the kingdom of Pragjyotisha.”
“Mere temple, Mura?” Bhauma retorted. “It is the temple of the Supreme Goddess Kamaksha who rules the three—heaven, earth and nether—worlds. Lordship over Kamarupa means the lordship over this world.”
Is that ambition or mere faith? Mura wondered.
“For now, your nephew has got a larger territory under his control. What did the Supreme Goddess give you, Prabho?”
“Is land everything, Mura? The people standing by me are my greater boon,” Bhauma said and smiled. Mura stared back at him, touched, as Bhauma’s hand rested on his shoulder. “Don’t look at me like that! People are more valuable than land, Mura. If someone is ready to stand by me from the shores to the plains of Bharatavarsha, then a part of Bharatavarsha belongs to me as well.”
Mura nodded mutely. Bhauma’s words always felt inscrutable. But that was the way of men who took to religion, he told himself. The road took a sharp turn and Mura tightened his hold on the reins. His eyes narrowed at the sight of a crowd in the distance. At this time of night?
Bhauma did not speak as his eyes too trained on the crowd ahead on the road. “They are moving. Is it a procession for some Goddess?”
He sees the Goddess everywhere. Mura stifled a smile. The smile faded as they rode closer. This was no peaceful procession. It was a mob. “They are chasing someone!”
“Faster!” Bhauma ordered.
“They are armed!” Mura gasped as the moon briefly came out of the cloud cover. “We should be at the borders of Pundra and close to Pragjyotisha.” His right hand that held the whip instinctively went to the long sword at his waist. The chariot drew closer to the crowd.
One of the villagers was lagging behind and they heard him shout, “Kill them! This must be a lesson to others!”
Bhauma asked Mura to slow down as they drew level to him. “What is the matter?”
“My nephew’s widow, the wretch! She is eloping with that doctor, the son of a whore!”
“We should help them,” Mura spoke softly, catching the sight of a man and a woman running from the maddened crowd. “But we will be outnumbered greatly!”
“Just keep going,” Bhauma ordered as the horses forced a path through the crowds. He raised his staff at a villager who tried to get into the chariot.
“Catch them for us! Save the honour of our village, please!” someone else shouted.
Mura and Bhauma pretended to take no notice and plunged ahead. The woman was slowing the man down. In a matter of moments, the enraged crowd would be upon them. He felt Bhauma’s hand on his shoulder.
“Pull them aboard!” Bhauma shouted as he snatched the whip and reins from Mura. They rode ahead of the couple. “The woman first!”
Mura extended a hand. “Come with us! We want to help you!”
The couple looked at each other in confusion but kept running. A crude knife missed the woman by inches. The man looked shocked as he turned back and saw the crowds catching up. He pushed the woman ahead towards the chariot. Mura caught her and pulled her aboard. The man also extended his hand. The woman fell upon Bhauma.
“Easy!” he shouted, looking back. The frenzied villagers had realised their motive. One of them threw a knife that pierced Mura’s shoulder just as he caught the man’s hand.
“Amaranatha!” the woman shouted, extending her hand too.
“Careful!” Bhauma pulled her back. A stone hit him. “Quick, Mura!” he shouted.
Mura leaned out, clutching the flagstaff of the chariot for support. “Faster!” He called out to Amaranatha.
The woman screamed something which both the men could not comprehend.
Bhauma suddenly pulled Mura back. “I’ll get him. Handle the reins.”
“He won’t make it!” the woman screamed.
“I’ve got him!” Bhauma stepped back and bent over. He latched onto the man’s hand. “Now!”
Mura cracked the whip and the horses picked up speed. The man placed one foot on the chariot but stumbled before he could put his second.
Another rock hit Bhauma, making him lose his grip on Amaranatha’s hand.
“No!” The woman screamed as Amaranatha fell to the ground.
“Prabho!” Mura shouted as Bhauma stumbled back in pain.
“Stop the chariot! Help him!” the woman shouted. Her eyes widened as she saw the villagers pull Amaranatha back.
Mura’s despairing glance alternated between the bleeding Bhauma and the fallen Amaranatha who had been already surrounded by the irate villagers.
“Kill them all!” some of the villagers shouted, chasing the chariot. Mura’s hand instinctively cracked the whip.
“No! Spare him! I beg you, spare him!” the woman attempted to dismount only to be caught by a weakened Bhauma. “Let me go!”
“They’ll kill us all!” he screamed, holding her back.
“I don’t care!” she spat, fighting his grip. “Spare him please!” she shouted at the villagers as knives and stones rained upon them.
“Faster, Mura!” Bhauma screamed. Mura cracked the whip again.
As the distance increased, the mob behind them parted and they could see the blood-drenched frame of Amaranatha on the ground. “You should have saved him and left me to die!”
The woman grabbed his sword and attempted to dismount again. “Demons! I’ll kill them all!” Mura too had to hold her back as he saw Bhauma weaken further. “I’ll drink each one’s blood!” she screamed.
“There are more than fifty of them!” Mura shouted, cracking the whip again.
“Cowards! Both of you!” she spat at Bhauma.
“We tried our best!” Mura protested, seeing Bhauma’s eyes close in shame. “My lord almost lost his life trying to help you!”
