Literature & Fiction | 34 Chapters
Author: Tina Sadhwani
An ordinary monk discovers that he has mysteriously become the Chosen Initiate, one who is bestowed with superhuman powers. He is enrolled in the Aryavarts School of Yog – the Magical School – where he must now learn how to harness that divine force, which alone can render him a keeper and master of those ancient-powers.But those ancient powers are now hidden behind a mysterious Veil that runs across the Seven Worlds, separating all of humani....
At first there was neither existence nor non-existence. There was neither the realm of space nor the sky which is beyond. There was neither death nor immortality then…
Who really knows? Who can presume to tell? Whence it was born? Whence issued this creation? Even the gods came after its emergence. Then who can tell from whence it came to be? The one who surveys it, in the highest heaven, only He knows. Or perhaps even He does not.
~ The Secret Codex: Rig Veda (10.129.1-7)
In their secret conclaves, the Mindborn Sons – Seers of Old – spoke of a time before the beginning – that silent hour before Creation, before the gods themselves awakened.
And so in that hidden hour of Eternity, even before the gods and Seers came into being, there drifted first a great white serpent upon the vast cosmic seas. Upon the lap of that thousand-hooded serpent, there slumbered a very strange but wondrous Being. His shimmering enigma rose in blue mists and violet whirls, in the magic sparkles of that Spirit-World; releasing secret glimpses of his inscrutable mystery.
He was the Unborn Spirit, said the Seers, the eternal pulse of the immortal spheres; and so they named him Vishnu – the Spirit-King.
As he slept in that Spirit-World, in the chambers of the galactic sanctuary, the Great Vibration of eternity unfolded, and it washed upon the shores of those cosmic seas. A Primal Force then broke through the mesh of his thoughts and his dreams, kindling his frozen slumber and that sleeping blue ocean of consciousness, into a creative beginning of enormous histories.
As Vishnu’s divine breath thus issued, a Presence was born in the astral night, unfolding through his navel, and across the misty horizons, into a thousand-petalled Lotus of power and light. From the depths of the blossoming Lotus came enormous quiverings filling the void, unveiling the four-faced form of Brahmā – the Firstborn Seer of sound and sight.
Thus did Brahmā come to be, adorning the splendorous cloak of creative power and divinity. As he opened his eyes, emanating space and time, the universe emerged as a twinkling star; sparkling, as it unfolded into Vishnu’s enormous dynasty.
But when the cosmic seas were thus stirred, a mysterious Veil also emerged, spreading across the face of the universe. Like a shimmering curtain it now descended, enclosing in its hidden realms, Creation’s great mysteries.
The secret saga of the universe, the record graphs and karmic events of the manifested worlds, was now stored in the astral repository. But there was another great secret lingering beyond the Veil – that the Seers had perceived. It was nevertheless, in the annals of time, mysteriously lost, and therefore concealed.
Nowhere in the world was that secret then known, and nowhere was it ever remembered, preserved or seen; except in those occult fellowships and divine lineages of the Seers – who then descended to earth, to hand down the Great Knowledge, and its ancient legacies.
Nearly Four Million Years Later…
At the End of the Third Age of Dvapar
I have given thee vision and wisdom more secret than hidden mysteries… I have revealed to thee the most Secret Doctrine, Arjun. He who sees it has seen the light, and his task in this world is done.
~ Manual of the Avatār: Gita (18.63; 15.20)
Hurled under nature’s ancient spell, the battlefield of Kurukshetra glowed with a mysterious essence. Shiva and Brahmā watched through their third-eye, the approaching world events. Even the Seven Seers were watching from their magic realm, while the gods were holding their breath in suspense; unaware of what was about to strike them. For a great event was about to unfold – the greatest that the world had ever known. But just moments before the Great War was about to begin, Arjun rose from his chariot, his restless mind now attempting to gather itself.
‘Why such apprehension in the hour of trial, Arjun?’ asked the charioteer, Kṛṣṇa. ‘After all it is not by mere thinking that one will arrive at the meaning and purpose of the great Lila,’ he teased, while his eyes reflected a strange aura.
‘I do not know if you grasp this critical dilemma, Kṛṣṇa!’ said Arjun.
‘It could be,’ Kṛṣṇa conceded, ‘for I was formerly reprimanded for the same, by the good old great-grandsire, Brahmā.’
‘The one who fashioned the worlds.’
‘I know who he is,’ said Arjun.
‘He too was often caught in the cosmic mire, when his creation tipped into those bothersome realms of Adharma,’ said Kṛṣṇa.
‘But the great-grandsire Brahmā is ancient, whereas you were born in this Age, Kṛṣṇa,’ Arjun contested.
‘He who sees Eternity in the things that pass, he has pure vision, Arjun,’ said Kṛṣṇa.
Irked at his friend’s mischievous banter, Arjun now alighted from the chariot and paced the battleground, his mind caving under a growing dilemma.
‘This is hardly the hour to ridicule my plight,’ he said, ‘when we are surrounded by millions of foes seeking the ominous end of the era.’
‘Then march on, O great son of Indra!’ said Kṛṣṇa. ‘For both the armies await, and so does the goddess, Durga.’
Poised before the White Mountains, millions of befuddled soldiers watched, as the prince and his charioteer conversed in the midst of the battle-sphere.
‘Durga?’ queried Arjun.
‘I know who she is,’ Arjun sighed.
‘It is well then, since you shall require her by your side. For it was she who kept me apprised of the stirrings of the Great War, much before the beginning of this Yuga.’
‘Much before? But you were born in this Age, Kṛṣṇa!’ cried Arjun, his mind now swirling with mystic puzzlement. ‘Will you not seriously consider my mortal dilemma?’
‘Whatsoever the cause of your predicament,’ said Kṛṣṇa, ‘what choice do you have, but to act, Arjun?’
‘But I do! I have the choice to refrain; to withdraw from battle, and end the resulting world-karma.’
‘But this earth is your realm of action, Arjun,’ said Kṛṣṇa. ‘You cannot escape it. And so, if act you must, then why not act in the fulfillment of the Eternal Dharma?’
‘But how must I slay these people, Kṛṣṇa?’ Arjun lamented.
As the warrior felt torn, swallowed into the world’s deep uncertainties, there came the dauntless voice of Kṛṣṇa, recalling him to that which was unseen.
‘Weapons cannot touch the Eternal Spirit and fire cannot burn it,’ said Kṛṣṇa. ‘Look with a steady eye, Arjun, do not let yourself be deceived by material appearances.’
As Kṛṣṇa spoke in the language of truth, Arjun leaned closer towards him, as though drawn towards the insistent calling of an invisible flute. The battlefield glimmered all around them, with hidden cosmic eyes now gazing upon the world where they stood.
‘But I do not know anymore, if it is better to win or lose in this War,’ Arjun relented.
‘Then you will be greatly disappointing your father, Indra; not to mention, my dispassionate comrade – the Destroyer of Avidya,’ said Kṛṣṇa, teasing him again, while his eyes continued to hide an unknown enigma.
‘The Destroyer – and who would that be?’ said Arjun.
‘Who else, but Shiva?’
‘Shiva? The Immortal One? Since when did he become your divine accomplice, Kṛṣṇa?’
‘Since the beginning of time, in the First Age of Krita.’
‘In the First Age? But you were born in this Age, Kṛṣṇa!’ Arjun protested, feeling exasperated, not in the least bit amused by his friend’s playful remarks. ‘I do not think anymore, that you are interested in the outcome of this War,’ he said.
‘And neither should you be,’ said Kṛṣṇa, securing the reigns of the chariot. ‘For victory and defeat, joy and sorrow – are all transient; they cannot touch that inviolate soul. And this is the great secret of that ancient knowledge of Yog. I revealed this secret knowledge to the Sun-god.’
Startled at the disclosure the prince now swirled, deeply mystified by his friend’s strange words.
‘You revealed this secret knowledge to the Sun-god?’ he said, while a mysterious glow passed over Kṛṣṇa’s face. The warrior wondered about his friend’s strange but steady countenance that was beginning to deeply reverberate within his soul.
‘But you were born in this Age, whilst the Sun-god is ancient! How am I to understand this whole puzzle, Kṛṣṇa? That you taught this arcane science to the gods of yore?’ cried the young warrior, his mind reeling with bewilderment.
As he awaited a response, a glimmering blue Sphere emerged, encircling him. Feeling mystified, Arjun wondered if the soldiers on the warfield could perceive this unraveling force.
‘Who really are you, O Mysterious One?’ he implored, with his palms joined and his voice bursting forth. ‘Who are you? I pray thee reveal to me, this secret of Yog. Reveal to me, O blessed One, your true self,’ he said, gazing into the mysterious eyes of Kṛṣṇa.
Like a blazing arrow that shot forth, Arjun was suddenly absorbed into those unfurling eyes, and his soul was inhaled into that ancient Source, from where he began to witness a divine wizardry unfold.
The mountains and the skies began to swiftly swirl all around, mounting into a giant tornado, and in every drop of the cosmos there was seen emerging, that ancient Soul of the World. The skies were no longer stretching above, but were within a giant blue form. The oceans were churning and rising all around, heralding the miraculous descent of that Immortal One who was known to all as – The Avatār.
There was nothing in the universe that was devoid of magical essence, for everything in the world now vibrated and quivered with the Avatār’s divine presence. The sun, the moon and the stars, they all danced and revolved within the Avatār’s form, and in every second that passed, Arjun was flooded with that overwhelming force that drew all the worlds into its arms.
Many light-years and eons flew by and blazing galaxies came spinning out of the void, as they were molded and tossed, and created and destroyed; living yet eternally in the Avatār’s eyes. There was a festival of nature celebrating the Avatār’s descent, for everything in creation now pulsed and throbbed, taking on that Divine Presence.
As Arjun fell upon his knees in overpowering delight, the whole universe looked upon him through the Avatār’s immortal eyes, and all he could now hear was the sound of a magical Force, pulsating and rising in that primordial rhythm of Ommm…
With a mighty sovereignty that transcended the stars, there issued the thunderous voice of the thousand-armed Avatār:
~ yoga-sthah kuru karmani sangam tyaktva dhananjaya
siddhi-asiddhyoh samo bhutva samatvam yog-uchyate ~
Shaken with blinding joy and overwhelmed with sublime exaltation, the young warrior bowed before the Avatār, his palms joined in humble veneration. In one moment, the Avatār transmitted to Arjun the Secrets of the Ages. Beyond all known reality and beyond timeless legends, it was as if an Empire spoke to him:
In essence, Arjun, I am Unborn and Eternal. Yet, even though I am Unborn, I come into birth by my own divine wizardry. Whenever and wherever there is a decline of Dharm and the uprising of Adharm, at that time, I manifest personally. And to fully establish the Universal Order, I appear millennium after millennium.
While Arjun received the grand tidings of the emerging dawn, the divine utterance issued from the mouth of the Avatār – whose overarching form now gently rippled across the White Mountains, arraying itself as the body of the cosmos.
But as soon as the revelations began to spread in the world-rhythms of the primordial chant, its vibrations instantly struck the ears of the Seven Seers, whose magical kingdom lingered far in the realms above.
‘Listen!’ the Seer, Atri, called. ‘Did you hear that?’ he said, peering into the universe beyond.
‘Indeed,’ replied the Seer Vishvamitra. ‘A tremor in the Net of Indra,’ he announced.
‘A mighty vibration in the field of Brahmā!’ added the Seer Kashyap, as they all watched the tremors mounting upon the stars.
Gesturing towards each other with a string of those supernatural chants, they gathered in the center of the hall.
This laurelled assembly and Senate of the Gods, moved as a dreamy landscape amongst the seven sun-lit kingdoms of the cosmos. They formed the ancient oligarchy of the universe’s natural laws, where Brahmā’s great knowledge was reflected in their serpent sceptres and their magic wands.
As they all listened, the star-lit skies drifted before their vision, illuminating those high stations and radiant towers. With luminous prophecy shining through their crystal eyes, they felt the forces of nature calling forth.
‘The time arrives for the celestial convergence. A mighty Force sways the Seven Islands,’ Atri announced.
As he spoke, his eyes suddenly widened with a glow of enchantment, for he began to witness the grand spectacle unraveling on earth. ‘The moment has arrived! For the Avatār now walks upon earth,’ he exclaimed, his voice taking on the clear mystical ring of prophecy.
‘This is the moment in which the dismal fate of Mankind shall forever be reversed,’ he announced, like the tolling of a great bell. But seized within his vision, he then sank into his throne, frowning at what he discovered next.
‘Yet men know him not, O Seers,’ he said dispirited, ‘they see not his form; they comprehend not his tidings!’
‘But Arjun sees… perhaps he knows…’ said Vishvamitra.
The Seven Seers considered each other in elated silence. A thunder rolled through their deathless skies, for world after world and heaven after heaven, were now seen opening their blazing gates to the Avatār’s rhythms.
‘He who holds the darkness on a leash has now indeed arisen,’ affirmed Atri, contemplating the Avatār’s revelation from that astral abode.
‘But with the turning of the Age there will be a weakening of power,’ he said, ‘a dimming of the Central Sun.’
‘Indeed,’ said Kashyap, agreeing with him. ‘They who carry forth the decree of the Great Goddess must thus be summoned, and the Secret Knowledge must now be given,’ he advised cautiously, while the others nodded in response.
With their long sweeping silver hair and their silver beards, they continued to voice their supernal thoughts.
‘Eternally lingering beyond the Veil are the hidden secrets of Man’s divine lineage,’ said Atri. ‘We must now awaken the morning stars and illuminate the Seven Worlds. The time has come.’
Vashishta was next in that Council of Light to offer his intimations. ‘We have seen and read in the stars, the destinies of the coming worlds,’ he said. ‘When the Avatār departs from the world of men, O Seers, cataclysms shall emerge and the full influence of the Age of Darkness shall begin. Only at the end of four thousand years of the gods, shall the Golden Age return.’
‘Let us duly begin the Rite of Brahmā,’ Vishvamitra now proposed. ‘Let us summon the Initiate by the invocation of the grand Yajna,’ he said.
Saying this he moved closer towards the center of the hall, and ignited the Magic Fire that would now burn in the chosen heart.
The Word of Creation repeated itself in rhythmic strains and a golden script appeared, unrolling itself in many sun-lit rays. It cast itself across the many worlds, with its many symbols burning with a cosmic force. Then it silently descended to earth, towards the chambers of an old hermitage.
‘The divine Force has chosen,’ said Vishvamitra, as he watched.
‘Who?’ they all asked.
‘The boy’s name is Suka.’
‘The time has indeed come,’ Vashishta affirmed, nodding in response. ‘The Chosen Initiate shall now ascend to Aikya with the rising sun.’
The surrounding fountains of light glittered as they all spoke, streaming down as a luminescent robe, as it trailed further into the City of Gods, flowing down as the River Ganga, into the Seven Worlds below.
As the mists rose once again, a deep silence prevailed, enclosing the interstellar land of the Seers in a magical repose. The people of the stars communed in that silence; continuing, from eternities, to watch over the worlds.
Mortal men could never, it was said, enter these terrains. And even if they did, they could not, with their mortal eyes, ever see what the Seers saw.
I move with the Rudras and all the gods. I enter many homes and take numerous forms. The man who sees, who breathes, who hears words spoken, obtains his nourishment through me alone. Listen, you who know, what I say is worthy of thought: it is I, myself, who announces and utters the tidings that gods and men alike rejoice to hear. I make the man I love exceedingly mighty: I make him a sage, a rishi, a learned Seer. It is I who bends the bow so that the arrow may strike and slay the hater of devotion. I rouse and order battle for the people, and I have penetrated earth and heaven…
~ The Secret Codex: Rig Veda (10.125)
‘What’s up there, father?’ said the prentice monk Suka, as he gazed curiously at the peaks, while striding impatiently upon the mountain path.
‘You will know soon enough,’ replied the loremaster, Vyasa, whose eyes were great and fair but inscrutable when looked upon. His dark hair was coiled tightly into a knot on the top of his head.
As he silently led the way upwards, the boy followed him, hounding him with a frequent shower of questions and doubts.
‘Are you taking me to the City of Gods?’
‘Then why are we travelling such a long way across? Where are we going?’
‘How will you see if you do not remain silent and sharp?’ retorted the master.
‘But this is the same forbidden route that the old sages at the hermitage speak of,’ said the boy, nervously, while he scrambled clumsily, making his way through the great big rocks.
‘Then it might just be after all,’ teased Vyasa, as always, puzzling his son in response.
‘Hahh,’ the boy gasped, as he looked at the fading valleys that lay shimmering thousands of feet below in the growing dark.
The yellow sun had set beyond the White Mountains, leaving behind a broken trail of faint red luminescence dispersed through the clouds. The ochre-robed ascetic, Vyasa, looked up at the skies in silent regard. The Hymn of the Ancient Mother echoed through the high mountains. That hawk-nosed master turned around, determined to reach those summits above. He ascended the steep winding ridges of the hills with surprising agility, whilst his son, Suka, followed him, hesitatingly, occasionally stumbling over the rocks.