Kartikeya and His Battle with the Soul Stealer

  USHA NARAYANAN

  Kartikeya And Battle with the Soul-Stealer

  PENGUIN BOOKS

  Contents

  Prologue

  1. Diti’s Revenge

  2. The Soul Stealer

  3. A Mysterious Birth

  4. Skanda, the Divine Warrior

  5. A Mother, Not a Goddess

  6. Harihara Putra

  7. Many Mothers, One Son

  8. Sage or Child?

  9. A Glorious Transformation

  10. The Dark Tide

  11. Before the Sun Sets

  12. The Fawn-eyed Beauty

  13. The Snake God

  14. Nectar and Moonlight

  15. The Cosmic Axis

  16. A Quest and a Quarrel

  17. A Duel of Hearts

  18. The War Drums

  19. When Earth Ran Red

  20. Battling the Monster

  21. A Bizarre Brigade

  22. The Killing Tree

  23. The Night of the End

  Follow Penguin

  Copyright

  PENGUIN BOOKS

  KARTIKEYA

  Usha Narayanan had a successful career in advertising, radio and corporate communications before becoming a full-time author. She has written the suspense thriller The Madras Mangler and the romances Love, Lies and Layoffs and Doctor Stalker Spy. Her books Pradyumna: Son of Krishna, The Secret of God’s Son and Prem Purana have been praised as ‘Indian mythology at its fiercest and finest’. When she is not travelling, writing or editing, Usha reads everything from thrillers to the Puranas. To know more about her, visit www.ushanarayanan.com or email her at author@ushanarayanan.com. You can also connect with her on www.facebook.com/writerusha or tweet @writerusha.

  By the Same Author

  Pradyumna: Son of Krishna

  The Secret of God’s Son

  Prem Purana: Mythological Love Stories

  To my father, Achal Srinivasan, and the wonderful Achal family

  Tat Kumaraya Vidhmahe Mahasenaya Dheemahi

  Tanno Skanda Prachodayat

  Prologue

  The mountains were dark and dangerous. Dense woods covered their lower slopes while the peaks were snow-topped. Pishachas and bhootas flashed through the air with devilish hoots. Eerie, moss-covered trees glowed like goblins in the night. Swamps opened their putrid mouths to swallow the heedless traveller. Dense fog descended suddenly to obscure one’s vision, making it easy to plunge down steep cliffs. Venomous snakes raised their dark heads from their holes. Wild beasts hunted their unwary prey. And in their midst, all alone, stood a young child with a stormy face, setting up a loud clamour as he challenged the skies.

  The mountain dwellers spoke in awed whispers about his sudden appearance. They had seen a fiery glow illumine the peak one night. Veins of gold, ores of silver and sparkling gems emerged as if by magic, shining with a blinding lustre that brought the ravens cawing, assuming that the day had dawned. The owls, terrified by the sudden light, flew hastily into the darkness of the caves. The hunters heard the cry of a baby the next day, though they could not find out where it came from. On the third day, they caught a glimpse of a glowing child amidst the reeds that fringed the mountain pool. And, the next morning, even as they watched and wondered, they saw him walking and talking. How had he come here, all alone? They had seen no strangers, so where were his parents? Had they abandoned him, fearful that he would bring disaster upon them? For alas, the child’s face and form were bizarre. They kept their distance, afraid of this extraordinary being.

  ‘It is against nature’s laws that he should grow so swiftly,’ said one.

  ‘They say that asura children become full-grown in a matter of days,’ said another. ‘Or perhaps he is a monster who has come to torment us. That would explain his eerie appearance!’

  Then one hunter raised his bow. ‘Instead of wondering about who he is, let us kill him before he grows too powerful!’ he said.

  ‘No!’ exclaimed his wife, forcing his arm down. ‘You cannot kill an innocent child who is forsaken and forlorn. I curse the mother who abandoned him in this manner! He must be hungry, poor little one. I want to take him some food. Look, how unsteady he is on his feet. How will he survive in the forest?’

  Even as she spoke, she saw something move behind a rock on the path the child was following. She saw a dark scaly head emerge—that of a poisonous pit viper. It uncoiled its hideous body and flicked its forked tongue in the air as if to sniff its prey. The hunter’s wife gasped and picked up a handful of stones to hurl at the snake. Her husband gripped her arm and shook his head. She looked at him angrily and whispered, ‘We must warn him. What if it bites him? The poison will kill him that very instant.’ She turned quickly again to see if the snake had struck. It was upright and appeared to be waiting for the child to come within striking distance. She tore her arm free and lifted it, ready to throw the stones. Even if they did not reach the snake, at least the boy would be alerted. And the startled snake might retreat.

  Suddenly, the snake dropped to the ground, as if prostrating itself before the child who walked past—unaware of the danger he was in. The spectators looked at one other, startled. What did this mean? ‘I told you! There is something unearthly about this child!’ the hunter said. ‘Let us run away before he spots us.’

  ‘No, I refuse to believe that a child so radiant could be evil,’ his wife protested, resisting his pull on her arm.

  ‘Let us at least stay away until we find out more about his nature,’ the hunter replied. They hid behind some trees and watched the stranger go past.

  The child saw two moving shadows but when he turned, there was no one there. His nostrils flared in response to a delectable smell he had occasionally come across in the forest. He felt a deep pang of loneliness and pain. Hunger stirred in his stomach and he felt a raging thirst. He heard the trumpeting of a herd of elephants moving towards the river, with their young ones safely tucked in their midst. In the tree above his head, he could see a black bird in its nest, pushing food into the throats of its hungry chicks. A monkey clan was watching him warily, with the young ones clinging to the backs of the mothers. Alas, he could not see anyone of his own kind, no tender mother or vigilant father. He had seen footprints like his own on the ground. Was it his clan’s? Why were they avoiding him then? Perhaps he had been cast away as worthless. His foot slipped on some smooth pebbles. He grasped at a bush to steady himself and gasped as the thorns pierced his flesh. He stuck his hand in his mouth, trying to soothe the burning sensation. Quick tears sprang from his eyes. He raised his voice in anguish, breaking the quietness of the morning.

  ‘Who am I? Why was I born? What is my name?’ he cried out. But he heard no answer. ‘The beasts around me cradle their young. They bring them food and protect them from their foes. But my parents . . . my parents have abandoned me on this cruel mountainside. I am at the mercy of the sun, the wind and the wild creatures that stalk their prey at night!’

  Would someone reply, explain the reason for everything that was happening? He waited, his eyes flaming red. But all he heard was Nature herself, speaking with the voices of the elements.

  Suddenly, he heard the sound of someone or something crashing through the bushes. A wild boar emerged in his path, huge and menacing. It stood aggressively before him, pawing the ground in challenge, its eyes glinting angrily. Behind it he could see the sow emerging from the bushes, followed by its young ones. But as he stood stock-still, staring at the animals, the mother took a quick look at him and herded her young ones back into cover. The male grunted at him and he grunted back. It stared at him for a few moments, appearing t
o be in two minds about mounting an attack. Then it turned and followed its brood into cover.

  ‘Did you see that? It appears as if he can talk to animals,’ murmured the hunter, awestruck.

  The child’s heart pounded and his breath came in gasps. He could have been mowed down swiftly if the animal had decided to attack. Fortunately, he had been able to sense its fear and calm it down. A skein of geese flew overhead. ‘Poor child . . . child . . . child!’ they screeched, as they winged through the skies like a gleaming spear. A golden eagle soared in big circles above his head. Was it waiting for him to fall so it could tear him to pieces?

  The mountain dwellers watched from a distance, torn between fear and pity. The child startled them by springing down the slopes, taking one precipitous leap after another. A bearded mountain goat with scimitar horns, standing frozen on a solitary cliff, darted away on seeing the strange-looking creature. A flock of jungle pheasants took to the air. A monal stuck its green-crested head out of some shrubs. The child looked at it enthralled, admiring the coppery neck that shaded into yellow, blue, violet and orange. He looked with bright eyes at the clusters of purple windflowers and wild roses that carpeted the mountainside. He watched a kingfisher dive into a mountain pool, and hurried to drink from the crystal clear waters. But then he drew back, startled. What was that strange creature stirring in the depths of the pool? It had six heads, twelve arms, but only one torso ending in two legs. He withdrew a little and waited to see if the creature would emerge from the water. When it did not, he peered into the pool again and saw it gazing at him in wide-eyed surprise. He reached out a tentative hand and saw it do the same. He growled a warning and it pulled back its lips to growl back at him. When he froze, the pool monster did so too. He slowly put out his hand, and when the creature did not attack, he gently touched the water. Would he be bitten? Nothing happened, though. He plunged his arm further into the water to touch it, but could not feel the creature’s flesh. As the water moved, the creature disappeared. Where had it gone? He waited, his curiosity stirred. Slowly, the waters stopped moving and the faces appeared again. Was it . . . could it be that he was seeing himself? He shook his head and clapped his hands and saw the stranger do the same. So this was him, a bizarre creature with multiple heads and limbs. He had not seen anyone like himself in the forest. Perhaps he was an aberration—an object of fear and ridicule. No wonder animals fled from him and no one had come to claim him. Who would want him? At least they had left him alive, not tearing him to pieces like the crows did to a maimed bird. His family had probably considered him a burden, a weak link that would attract predators. He was doomed to live and die alone.

  Suddenly, he raised his head, his eyes fierce. No! He would not let his circumstances pull him down. He would protect himself; he would devise weapons to fight off enemies. The creatures of the forest would soon realize that he could not be easily killed. He wiped off an unwelcome tear that spilled from his eye. He would be strong and nurture his rage until the time came to confront those who had left him to his fate. ‘You deserted me, left me to die! But here I am, standing strong and invincible,’ he would tell them. ‘I am sure I was born for a purpose. I will find it and claim my place in the world!’

  Hunger clawed at his stomach, and he reached for a juicy berry on a bush nearby. But then, something struck his arm and caused the berry to fly from his hand. He plucked another, only to have it knocked away again. This time he saw a blur of movement. Was someone teasing him? He turned around quickly but could not see anyone. He thought for a moment and then positioned himself carefully at the edge of the pool. Now he could see the reflection of a dark face emerging from behind the bushes. When he again reached for a berry, he saw the animal leap forward to knock it down. He turned quickly and captured the creature, who peered at him fearlessly with huge eyes. It was small, with a black face and ears, a milky white body and a curved tail. A curl of buff fur, shaped like the crescent moon, crowned his head.

  ‘Ulluck! Ulluck!’ the creature called out, startling him and making him loosen his grip. The creature darted away. ‘I wish you had stayed. I meant you no harm,’ the child whispered. But the creature had not run away. He was standing before him now, on his two feet, holding out a golden fruit. The child felt a pang of hunger again.

  ‘I am Ulluck. The mountain men call me an ape, a gibbon,’ he said. ‘What are you, six-faced one? What is your name?’

  The child shook his head, for he did not know the answer.

  ‘Never eat those red berries. They are poisonous,’ said Ulluck. ‘Eat this instead!’ Strangely, he could understand what the gibbon was saying, but he was not sure if he could trust the animal. Even as he hesitated, the ape pulled the apricot apart, scooped out the dark seed, popped one half into his mouth and held out the other half to him. The child seized the fruit eagerly and began nibbling at its sweetness with his strong white teeth.

  As they stood gazing happily at each other, enjoying the fruit, the boy heard a fearsome hiss behind him. He dropped the apricot and got ready to defend himself. A big, brown creature leapt between them, seized Ulluck in its long arms and sprang away to a safe distance. The little one clutched the fur of the larger one who cradled him protectively. She must be his mother! thought the child, watching her take a circuitous route to avoid him and make for the safety of the trees. But Ulluck had other ideas. He jumped down from his mother’s arms and began to scamper towards his friend again.

  The mother gibbon shrieked and made towards him, but then stopped, hearing a soft rustle in the bushes. She stared intently at the moving leaves and then shrieked again as she saw a muscular form making its way towards her little one. It was a mountain lion hunting his prey, his body close to the ground. The predator stared with tawny eyes at Ulluck and the child, who formed a triangle with the mother, now bounding forward to close the gap with her son. The lion loped forward swiftly, realizing that he could no longer stay concealed. Would he veer to his left or right, to the child or the young gibbon? Who would be his prey today?

  1

  Diti’s Revenge

  Thousands of years ago, the sons of Sage Kashyapa and his wife Diti had been killed by Vishnu’s avatars—Varaha and Narasimha. This was the result of a long-standing war between the devas and asuras, who were both descendants of Sage Kashyapa, the first through his wife Aditi, and the second through Aditi’s sister, Diti. The asuras would win powerful boons through fierce tapasya to Brahma and Shiva and then misuse their powers to torment the devas and humanity. Vishnu would then take an avatar in order to destroy them. The king of the devas, Indra, was always vigilant, watching out for the next asura king who would threaten his throne.

  Diti was devastated by the loss of her beloved asura sons and mourned them ceaselessly. She also thirsted for revenge against the gods who had killed them. Hence, she embarked on a fervent tapasya of a thousand years, in order to have a son who would be able to stand up to the devas. She shunned food and sleep, meditated under the harsh sun, and focused her mind relentlessly on attaining Brahma’s blessing. Alas, when the thousand years were nearly at an end, her concentration wavered. She began dreaming of the future when her son would avenge the devas’ attacks and humble them in battle. The lapse proved to be her undoing, for it left her vulnerable to a lurking, ever-present foe—the king of the devas.

  Indra knew that if Diti’s child were born, he would be too powerful for him to control. He took advantage of her momentary carelessness and entered her womb. He tore the embryo apart, first into seven pieces, and when the child did not die, each part into seven again. Even then he could not destroy it, as it was fortified by the mother’s tapasya. Diti was startled into opening her eyes, screaming in panic. ‘Stop, Indra. Why do you seek to destroy your own kin, your own brother? Have you forgotten that you share the same father, Kashyapa?’ she cried out.

  Devendra was unrepentant. Why should he wait for another asura to be born and torture him? ‘You are to blame, Mother, for whatever happened,’ he
said. ‘You allowed your mind to wander. Your lips stopped chanting Shiva’s name and curled instead in a gloating smile. As the lord of heaven, I had to impose a punishment on you. However, as you beg for mercy, I will bless you with a boon. I will grant the forty-nine children in your womb lofty positions in heaven that will make them the envy of the gods.’ Diti’s children were born soon after and Indra quickly took them away to make them his attendants.

  Diti wept and stormed on facing such a great loss again. She burned with vengeful thoughts and swore that she would destroy the devas. She began another tapasya, for ten thousand years this time, making sure that she followed all the rules of worship scrupulously. And as Indra and his devas watched aghast, she gave birth to powerful Vajranga, whose body was as indomitable as Indra’s thunderbolt. When Vajranga was full-grown, she commanded him to carry out her desire. ‘I seek revenge!’ she cried out. ‘You must avenge Indra’s cruel attack on my womb when he tore my child into pieces. Make the monster pay for his sins.’

  ‘Your wish is my command, Mother,’ replied Vajranga. ‘Tell me how I must go about it.’

  A little smile appeared on Diti’s harsh face. ‘Go to heaven with a mighty army, my son,’ she told him. ‘Defeat Indra and the devas and drag them here before me. Let them get a taste of the fruits of their actions. I wish to prove to the world once and for all that my sons are in no way inferior to those of my sister, Aditi. This is the boon I seek from you, Vajranga. This is the only way in which you can please your mother.’

  Vajranga girded himself for battle and rose to devaloka to challenge Indra. ‘Diti’s son is here to destroy you!’ he roared at the gates of his enemy’s capital. Indra confronted him with his heavenly legions but was defeated in a fierce encounter. Vajranga tied him with his noose and brought him to Diti. ‘I have carried out your wish, Mother!’ he said. ‘How should I punish this treacherous brother of mine? Just give me the word and it shall be done.’