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  Copyright © 2018 Prakash Books India Pvt. Ltd.

  Copyright text © Kevin Missal

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual person, living or dead, events or locales is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise (except for mentions in reviews or edited excerpts in the media) without the written permission of the publisher.

  ISBN: 978 93 8836 987 9

  THE STORY SO FAR . . .

  DHARMAYODDHA KALKI:

  THE AVATAR OF VISHNU

  NOTE: The book is divided into two parts and in which points of view of the characters intersect each other. For the reader’s comprehension, the points of view have been separated.

  PART 1 – THE BATTLE OF SHAMBALA

  PART 2 – THE RISE OF KALI

  THE BATTLE OF SHAMBALA

  KALI’S POV

  Kali, the young commander of a ragtag group of Tribal 1 outcasts, is seeking to seize Indragarh, the capital of Keekatpur province. The Tribals in his army comprise of Rakshas, Nagas, and Yakshas. The Tribals and the Manavs (the elite, human population) are enemies and Kali wants to bring them together and put an end to the socio-political ostracism of the Tribals. He defeats King Vedanta of Indragarh, spreading Tribals all over the northern part of the country, Illavarti. He begins to build his base in the capital city and live a free, dignified life. But his problems are just beginning.

  After his triumph on the battlefield, he falls ill. Durukti, his overprotective sisters, is concerned for him. Kali begins to dream about his childhood and how he had lost his siblings in a fire, created as a result of the animosity between the Tribals. Durukti learns from her handmaiden Symrin that there is a cure, known as the Soma, hidden in the caves adjoining Shambala, a village. It is considered a gift given by Lord Indra to the world, but is no one knows if it really exists. Durukti is unsure about the miracle drug’s potency but still decides to leave for Shambala. And when an assassination attempt puts Kali’s life in grave danger, she takes the army of Rakshas with her and reaches Shambala pronto.

  KALKI’S POV

  Kalki Hari, born to Sumati and Vishnuyath, and brother to Arjan, is a strong man who has powers greater than anyone around him. He resides in Shambala with his family. He falls in love with Lakshmi, who is a fellow resident in their sleepy little village, most famous for its self-sustained dairy economy. Kalki seeks to find out how he is so strong, until one day he returns to his dairy farm and finds his father has been kidnapped by Mlecchas.

  With the help of Arjan, Lakshmi, and his strong friend Bala, Kalki begins to gather arms and resources. Kalki reaches Indragarh in order to take weapons from the armoury, and gets in trouble there. He returns in the nick of time, only to realize that Arjan and Bala have got themselves embroiled with Kripa, a drunkard who claims that he knows where the Mlecchas live.

  Kalki saves the day but loses his father in the process. Before passing away, he tells Kalki who Kripa is. Later on, Kalki confronts Kripa, who tells Kalki that he (Kalki) is an Avatar of Vishnu. There have been many Avatars till now, but he is considered to be the last one. This explains the unnatural strength that courses through Kalki’s veins and muscles. Kalki had ingested Soma indirectly when he was in his mother’s womb, causing him to develop supernatural powers. Soma, the nectar of gods, can only work and show its true potency on the Dharm and the Adharm (the rough equivalents of good and bad in this narrative world) and help them to achieve their true forms. Kalki is Dharm.

  Later, Kalki learns that Durukti has come with an army to their village, demanding access to the Soma. Fearing that the Soma would go in the hands of Adharm, thereby causing havoc, he tries to prevent it from happening by coaxing the villagers to come together and fight against the attack on their home and the mystical material contained therein.

  The battle ensues. Kalki loses and Lakshmi dies. Kalki retaliates by attacking Durukti, who traps him in a cage and takes him to Indragarh, leaving Shambala in ruins. She has gained access to the Soma. Arjan, Kripa, and Bala plan to save Kalki.

  THE RISE OF KALI

  KALI’S POV

  After ingesting the Soma, Kali starts recovering. He realizes there is a lot of political intrigue in the city and he begins to beat his enemies strategically. His careful strategizing involves playing on divided loyalties, making false promises, and backstabbing. He also begins to see visions that tell him to see his past and embrace his heritage of an Asura, an extinct race.

  Kali is informed through Martanja (the Rakshas lieutenant in the city) that Durukti has taken a villager captive from Shambala. Kali finds out that Durukti has fallen for this villager. He gets jealous and physically assaults her. Kali then confronts this villager, who is Kalki, informing him that he will be tried on charges of sedition.

  ARJAN’S POV

  Arjan, Bala, and Kripa reach Indragarh where they take help from Padma and Ratri, who are related to the late Lakshmi. They begin to hatch plans and try to help Kalki escape from the heavily guarded prison. Kripa has an unusual idea. He wants to use the same Somas that had got them into trouble, and make bombs. He refers to these as astras .

  Arjan, Bala, and Padma reach the location where the Somas and successfully take it, before they realize that the trials have begun. Kripa makes a vimana (a flying chariot) and swoops in with his comrades during the trial and helps Kalki escape. This daring and ingenious escape leaves an entire gallery of spectators spellbound.

  Kalki ends up duelling Martanja. Though Martanja has ingested Soma (thanks to the devious chicanery of Kali) Kalki’s manages to defeat him by tapping into his supernatural strength.

  KALKI’S POV

  Kalki and his gang return home only to learn that Kali has declared them fugitives. Kali also knows that they are living with none other than Ratri, who is a high level minister under the state administration. He burns down Ratri’s house thinking he has killed everyone inside. Kalki and the others manage to escape. But Bala and Ratri had fallen for each other. Seeing Ratri in distress because of them, Bala chooses to return to save her. But tragically, both are killed by a wrathful Kali.

  Meanwhile, Padma has been trying to find Vedanta’s weakness since she wants revenge for her brothers. They had been killed by Vedanta. She finds his daughter and plans to assassinate her. However, Arjan stops her. The bell in the fort tolls and they try to escape. But a wounded Arjan is left behind as Padma manages to get away.

  Feeling guilty for their own roles in the turn of events so far, Padma and Kripa leave with Kalki. Kalki has his own reasons to discredit them for their betrayal.

  MANASA’S POV

  Manasa is a side character in this story, but she plays a pivotal role later in the series. Manasa is the sister of Vasuki, the Naga king who believes Kuvera, the Yaksha chief, is in cahoots with Vedanta and is planning to overthrow Vasuki. Vasuki is assassinated by Kali, who then forms an alliance with Kuvera and later overthrows Vedanta. Manasa wants revenge. Kali attempts to take her life but she manages to save herself. In the end, s
he plans to leave for her kingdom where she would gather her personal army and finish Kali off.

  The book ends with Kali reigning supreme as the king of Indragarh and Durukti finding out that her handmaiden Symrin is working with someone sinister, who had planned all the events that had happened till now. This person has been using the Eye of Brahma which is a mysterious magical object.

  1 Non-Manav groups and clans in Illavarti.

  NOTE TO THE READER

  This book has stemmed out of my love and fascination of Hindu mythology. I am a staunch believer of Lord Vishnu and his teachings have helped and guided me in life.

  The events of the book bear resemblance to those in Ramayana, Mahabharata, and Kalki Purana, but it is a work of fiction and has been written for entertainment purposes only. You may find that most of the characters appear different from their mythological counterparts, but that is because I have taken creative liberty to fashion them to suit the story. The book is not a retelling but rather a reimagining of the Kalki Purana.

  Some of my favourite movies have proven to be instrumental in inspiring me to write this book, such as The Empire Strikes Back (Star Wars Episode V), The Dark Knight, The Godfather Part II, A Storm of Swords, and Terminator 2: Judgement Day.

  So here it is, the second book of the series. Thank you for picking it up. I hope you enjoy it.

  To my readers . . .

  Kalyug had ended. The war was over.

  Sumati had been in the temple quarters for a while now.

  It had been more than a year since she had received notes from her sons. They had stopped coming now. She was afraid, but she had faith that they were alive. She hoped they were safe. That they were content and they would come in time to see her.

  Since the war occurred, not much had happened in Lord Bajrang’s temple—the poor were sheltered and fed, a few orphans were taught while the priests kept babbling forever.

  But faith in the institution was lost on the people. There were no more celebrations.

  With each passing minute, Sumati was getting anxious. The most exciting part of her day would be midday, when the messenger would arrive and tell the people about the current events—who had perished and who had won on the battlefield.

  And one day, casting a frightened look at the villagers, he had confirmed that Kalyug was ending.

  Everything had come to a standstill, even the massive destruction on the battlefield.

  The victors had not been decided yet.

  No one, not even the messenger, knew who had won.

  Sumati was afraid. In the era of Kalyug, countless lives would be claimed as was prophesied ages ago. Much of humanity would perish.

  But she was only concerned for the safety of her sons. She would get up in the dead of the night, and pray for them. But her prayers stopped from that day—the day she was asked to come to the courtyard by the priest of the temple.

  “Sumati ma, someone here has come to meet you.”

  Meet me?

  The thought made her heart flutter in anticipation. She had had no visitors for the past year.

  It couldn’t be.

  She hurtled forward, stumbling on her path, as she ran towards the temple dens, until she finally saw him.

  He was standing—tall and firm, a few paces away from her. She momentarily paused in recognition. A parrot was perched on his shoulder, with a horse by his side.

  The shadows blinded his face, but he was there finally and she recognized him without further ado.

  Tears burst from her eyes as she rushed towards him and embraced him. Without even making eye contact, she started to trace each scar running through his upper body, borne by him over the past year—just so that he could protect his family.

  She listened to his beating heart. It was faint. He was battered. And broken.

  With his remaining strength, her son hugged her back, tight as he could. And then she pulled herself up from his embrace.

  “Where is he?” she asked him. “Is he at the back? Does he really think he can surprise me?”

  He started shivering in convulsing shock, as his head drooped down to finally meet his mother’s eyes.

  They were as cold as ice.

  “No,” she gasped, her hands covering her mouth in horror, “no, it can’t be.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I couldn’t protect him, Ma.”

  He tried to hug her again. She resisted with all her might, but she couldn’t fight his strong arms anymore. And they enveloped her again.

  No.

  Her feeble ears were rooted to his chest. She was not ready to hear this.

  She could not accept it. Every thought escaped her mind. All she could do was grope at silence.

  What happened to the one who didn’t return?

  He fell.

  He couldn’t see much amidst the falling rubble. Heavy rocks brushed against his arm, rupturing his skin, with numerous pebbles piercing his ankles and bloody knuckles. He heard the rush of water somewhere nearby. His trampled body rested to a halt now. Multiple gashes and wounds were inflicted on his body, with his tattered dhoti barely enveloping him.

  Flexing his biceps, he made an effort to get up.

  “KALKI!” Someone called out his name. It was a girl. Damn wretched girl. He didn’t even want to talk to her, yet she called for him.

  But then, it wasn’t her fault. He himself fell off his horse from the slope of the mountain.

  Kalki leaned against the rock, watching the overcast skies, so close yet so far from him. The voices echoed in the back, but he didn’t care. He remained silent. He had been putting up with them for fifteen days, and right now, he just wished to be away from them. The fall, albeit a result of his clumsiness had made his wish come true. He watched the dank forests, foliage and the canopies, thick as a hive, just crowding the ground. He was up high, away from Indragarh and Shambala, where the entire nuisance had occurred.

  “KALKI!” It was a man’s voice.

  Kripa. What a bloody mess he was! At least he didn’t drink anymore.

  “MAN!” Another voice appeared. This was not a familiar voice. And yet it sounded much closer.

  His ears strained, his head cocked forward, as he looked at a small cave that led to the slope inside the mountains. From there, a head was peering at him, like a child.

  “Man?”

  Kalki narrowed his eyes. “Uh . . .” He looked at the back. He could see Kripa and Padma descending from the mountain with their horses. The uneven path was their problem. Kalki now hoped that they would reach him sooner. The creature had managed to appear in front of him in no time at all. His presence had an unsettling aura.

  “Man?”

  Kalki was frozen at his place. “Man, yes,” he responded.

  “Man,” he nodded.

  He turned around. Kalki realized he was wearing a lion skin over his head with whiskers coming out of his thin mouth. He had a strange furry neck that lined his chest. His chest was hairy as well. With his back strained, he had a convoluted frame, his arms and legs of the same length. His eyes were hungry, as if he would pounce at Kalki’s throat at any moment. He walked on all fours like an animal. His wrists were crooked but when he stood straight, he towered over Kalki.

  “Me Simha.”

  “Simha?” Kalki had definitely heard that name before.

  “Darooda Simha.” He clapped. With a manic smirk on his face, he said, “You, man,” and started poking Kalki. His nails were so sharp that they pinched him.

  “Darooda, eh?” Strange name, but then the man had whiskers. Kalki was surely in the wrong lands.

  “Darooda.” He began to jump, beating his chest and hooting.

  “You don’t need to be so excited, friend.” Kalki mustered a grin. He had never liked Tribals. They had destroyed his village, killed the love of his life, and left his friends to die. The Manavs irked him enough, but not so much as Tribals. And yet, here he was, standing in front of one, and trying to make friendly contact with him.
r />   “Food?” Darooda asked. “Hungry?”

  “Uh,” Kalki was indeed hungry. By the gods, he had forgotten the last time he had eaten something. Apples perhaps, a few hours back, but they hadn’t satiated his hunger.

  “Mutton, inside.”

  “I don’t eat meat, friend,” Kalki said.

  Darooda slumped in disappointment. “Meat good.”

  “I know.” Kalki’s gaze was unwavering.

  “Come,” he signalled at the cave, “food.”

  “I am waiting for my friends,” he told Darooda, pointing at Padma and Kripa who had managed to appear on their horses at the right time. They had brought Kalki’s as well.

  “What on heavens were you thinking, mate? You are an Avatar! You are lucky you didn’t die,” Kripa scolded him.

  Darooda instantly squealed and rushed back, staggering and scampering for safety towards the cave’s edges. Kripa got down, grabbed the girdle of his horse, and patted twice on Kalki’s back. “What’s with him?”

  “Darooda Simha.”

  “I asked what’s with him, not who he is, mate” grunted Kripa.

  “You should ask him yourself. Besides, your voice seems to have overpowered him.”

  Kripa scowled.

  “All I know is that he is a Simha,” Kalki added, while curiously watching the creature’s mannerisms.

  Simha. The name sounded so familiar yet he couldn’t remember. “Where have I heard this?” Then he recalled. It was at the gurukul with Guru Vashishtha, when he had read about the ancient tribes.

  Padma had reached down as well, gazing at the creature, and freezing right in her tracks. She was a short woman, ugly and horrible. But then it was Kalki’s anger that was making him see her in that manner. In reality, she was tall, slim, had a straight face with kohl-covered eyes and short, cropped silver hair with a noticeable jaded look. She was not one without peculiar habits.

  “Looks like a Tribal to me,” she said, trying to undermine her shock.

  Kalki ignored her with a visible grimace. Padma noticed it, but chose not to retort. He had every right to hate her.