Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction (Love to also add that childlike imagination ;-))
Read Part 8 here: http://shineofdawn.com/?p=171
I look around confused trying to understand what is going on around me. All the tribal people are shouting and crying just then a voice booms over all the noise, “Have you all lost your minds? Why are you making so much noise?” By hearing this everybody becomes silent and bend their heads in respect avoiding eye contact with each other. I turn to look in the direction of the voice, curious to see the owner of such booming voice. As people give way, a very short old man with a hunched back walks towards me with help of a walking stick. His face is so wrinkled that I can hardly make out his face features.
As he approaches me, his pace slows down and his expression changes instantly. “Ah!! So you came back after all. Who can escape destiny?” He says with smile on his face. I recognise that they all are speaking in the script language which we used to decode in professor’s office. “I am in search of my birth secret where once incident lead to another and I am here today,” I say to the old man, “Who are you people and what is all this about?” I ask him. The tribal chief comes forward and takes the red shawl from me. He points to the symbol on the shawl and signs me to look behind the huge Siva Linga. I gasp when I look there as the same symbol is craved on a huge rock behind the Siva Linga.
“You are not here by accident my child, your destiny has brought you here,” says the tribal chief. “What are you talking about?” I ask him. “My name is Chandesvara and I am the head of our tribe, the Rudra Ganas ,” he says and then points to the old man , “This is our guru Atchyutha . Nobody knows how old he is as he is there with us from centuries,” he says and bows to Atchyutha. All this while Atchyutha is looking at me seriously, lost in his thoughts. “It is true then that Rudra Ganas really exist,” says Arjun who has reached to my side now. “My grandfather used to always talk about a tribe who resides in the far away mountains, guarding some secrets,” says Arjun. “We do exist dear boy and I know your grandfather too. He has died for a good cause. He is a true warrior” says Atchyutha with gleaming eyes.
“Please will somebody explain me what is all this about?” I shout unable to bear the tension. “Our tribe was originally from Kamyaka forest and our ancestors migrated to this region with a divine responsibility,” says Chandesvara, he takes a deep breath and continues “During the Pandavas’ exile time, many learned saints and gods visited Yudhisthira, the eldest Pandava to discuss various things. During this time many scripts about immortality, science and human development were written. “
Atchyutha clears his voice and says “Once Arjuna was granted the boon of divine weapons by lord Shiva, there were scriptures written on how to make nuclear weapons. These weapons were used in the war of Kurukshetra, in which many lost their lives and loved ones. Kurukshetra war has seen such bloodshed that once it was over nobody was left with any happiness. Loved ones gone, kingdoms destroyed, women widowed, kids crippled. It seemed as if the happiness was removed from the face of earth,” he says with pain in his eyes as if he lived in those difficult times.
“All this has left the eldest Pandava, Yudhisthira heart broken. He gave our tribe the most honourable responsibility of preserving the scripts of immortality, nuclear weapons and many more. He asked us to take them away so that this knowledge is not available to anyone and bloodshed should not repeat again, “says Atchyutha.
I am in some kind of trance as if I have time travelled to those days. I can feel the despair that war has created. I can feel the pain of people who lost their loved ones, the helplessness Yudhisthira would have faced as he created those scripts which was misused instead for welfare of the human kind.
“Over the centuries, many people tried to obtain them but got killed by our tribe,” says Chandesvara “But these scripts cannot be read by any one.” Unable to understand what he said, I ask him,” What do you mean by these scripts cannot be read?” He smiles and says, “An ancient magic and a divine spell was cast on these scripts so that these cannot be misused. The scripts which right now lay under the Maha Linga in front of your eyes, cannot be read by anyone,” he pauses, looks at me and continues ,” Only a blessed descendent born once in a century, in our tribe can see and read them.”
Atchyutha walks near to me and whispers loud enough to be heard by all “only blood of such descendent, born once in a century illuminates this place.” I am completely shocked by this new revelation.
To be continued …