THEOMACHY: War of the Gods

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS To my mother, who takes my achievements as her own and who encouraged me to write this book To my father, who did everything in his power to make this book possible To my brothers, who guided me at every step PREFACE Theomachy, (theo-ma-ki), a Greek word meaning ‘the war of the gods’ is as much a study in comparative mythology and religion as it is an epic poem. In my years of studying the epics of Homer and Snorri Sturluson and Vyasa (characters which are also portrayed as thinly veiled projections in the poem itself), I was disposed to writing one myself and create a bosy of myth of my own, although it is nowhere comparable in its rendering, either in skill or magnitude or the intense labor of the said masters. There are characters that have been taken directly from myths and there are characters created for the express purpose of furthering the narrative. Mythological characters popular either in the east or the west have been distilled to suit a more oriental tale in order to show that cultures were indeed in communication with each other and deities of a pantheon, slightly transformed to suit their peoples, did in fact have a common background. Over the centuries, owing to migrations, invasions, colonization (as is shown in this poem particularly in ‘Babeel’s Odyssey), allowed the people to carry their beliefs to different lands and integrate their deities in the new cultures. This is perhaps the reason why the major Norse deities Odin and Thor, share traits with the earlier Jove who in turn shares traits with the Mesopotamian Marduk. Thor who controls the thunder and lightning slew the world serpent Jormungandr, a tale much akin to that of the Hindu god Indra who slew with his thunderbolt, the serpent Vajra. The Islamic Khidr (AS) (who serves as the primary template for the character of Jami) can be found sharing traits with the Avestan Sraosha , Yanauluha of the Zuni people, the Green Knight of the Arthurian mythos, Phoenician Adonis and many others. Sir James George Frazer did a remarkable job in his books ‘Attis, Adonis and Osiris’ and ‘The Golden Bough’ in bringing together global mythologies and giving them a common origin. It is however, impossible to pin down the exact period of when these deities originated and therefore impossible to tell which could have served as a template for subsequent avatars. This poem was inspired by the myth of Atlantis which became popular by the dialogues of Plato, particularly ‘Timaeus and Critias’ where we learn Atlantis may have had Egyptian origins. A story similar to the Atlantis is also told in Mahabharata, as the destruction of the city of Dwarka, which had a similar fate; both were submerged underwater. The character of Yashtan has been inspired by multiple tales, particularly the tale of Pandora (who not unlike our hero Yashtan, is endowed with the gifts of all the gods, hence the name Pandora, ‘all-gifted’. Yashtan too means ‘all worthy of worship’ and is derived from the Persian Yazata) and the tale of Pygmalion. The latter tale reflects the character of Bolund, who shares Pygmalion’s obsession for recreating an otherworldly beauty. Yashtan also shares traits with the Hindu Arjun and the Norse Ullr.

BOOK ONE (The strange boy’s tale) Ever since the advent of life I have ferried the dead. Propelling my ferry upon this ocean of delirium, I know not how long I have served as the conveyor of souls or whether I have had a life prior to this. My flesh was never palpitant, My eyes were always glaucous, My mouth insipid and my ears deaf; A ruse devised by my king in connivance with his queen to render me incapable of sympathizing with the dead, who in turn, upon reaching these tenebrous shores, wag endlessly their tongues. I have come to learn that humans, either alarmingly alert or seized by death are wont to speak inexorably in times of utter confusion, to make sense of their situation. I do not hear them, my senses are numb to their misery, but every now and then when I pass under the bough of the tree which segregates Irkalla from Limbo, from which hangs a lantern, the faint light of which may at times illumine the features of my charge, and lift the bleary veil from my eyes, it is then I see their lips constantly moving, their breasts heaving, their skin sweating profusely. My arms move on their own, left to their own devices, they perform diligently my task. They are too independent and I know not whether I travel from Avernus to Dushashana or in reverse. Upon the thin stream of boiling Haoma river, in which the hideous sirens swim and writhe, Humming dismal tunes to first ignite within the newcomer, an unending despair. When this despair weighs heavily upon their victim's conscience, the burden enables them to imbibe every pleasant memory. They then proceed to extract the souls. The sirens have devised their own methods for that, and in achieving their end, they are rather creative. If the memories of the soul (which of hellcomers are never pious), are tainted to a slight insipid degree, the sirens might puncture a single hole in any one part of the flesh and extract the soul. If however the memories are utterly debauched, the sirens rejoice and are enticed to wound and maim the wretch as they please and extract the soul most painfully. I have a few times seen the manner in which the bodies contort, leaving upon the face a terrible grimace. There was however, this one time when all processes in Irkalla altered; My senses awakened strangely, I witnessed the pulsating nerves under the warmth of vital flesh. My chest throbbed with the pounding of a suddenly active heart. My eyes were opened to the gloom of hell. My ears became sensible to the cries of the wretches in torment. My nostrils became capable of inspiring the stench of charnel dust. It was at once confusing and exhilarating. I'd become aware! As the dragon headed prow of the ferry swept past the rampart of fog, I saw, in the distance, a green and white length like an asphodel flower. Upon nearing, I realized it was a boy, nay! A young child! He stood with his head bowed down, round it was an ivy wreath. A single dew drop upon its leaf reflected a beam from the sirens underwater and pained my eyes. I stopped the ferry by the shore, clanked the oak with my foot. I tapped the oar before his feet to gain his attention but he was frozen in his poise. The language to communicate came to me, and I employed this newly acquired faculty for speech to engage him. 'Boy. Pay the fare for the transport then mount this vessel!' No response. I did perceive a sigh, I believe, but nothing more. 'Boy! Get on this ferry if you wish to cross! Toss in the drachmas to avail the ride! Lest you wish to roam the earth a wayward soul!' Then he raised his head, peered into my eyes. And his visage was perhaps the comeliest of any I'd ever seen. I have transported souls plagued with excessive pride in their beauty, but none had an appeal that could surpass his. His gaze was imploring but fixed. He drooped his eyes to appeal to my good nature but he did not blink. The irises changed colors between hues of blue like an opal, lacking in warmth, distant and calm. He did not mutter and ramble like every other charge of mine, rather the only sound I heard while he stood on the shore was a deep sigh as he pushed his hand into the pouch of his raiment, Dangling beside his right hip and turned the pocked inside out to display it's emptiness. Then he stared at me again with appealing eyes to arouse my sympathy. It was pointless. Such were the rules of Hell and the rules bend for no one. No fare. No transport. 'Stay! Rot here in limbo if you cannot pay!' And I turned, pushed my ferry away and plunged the oar for the first propulsion. Curious, I looked over my shoulder and found him once again, downcast as our first encounter. He sniffed. Quietly weeping perhaps? And indeed he had awakened within me a paternal concern, For I had begun to consider his fate. Was it his fault if he had no fare on him? How was it that someone so young knocked upon the doors of hell? He possibly could not have committed a sin so heinous that he'd deserve condemnation by Dushashana. Of course he couldn't have. His presence in Irkalla must be a mistake. Could I have let an innocent soul linger between the worlds? Perhaps just once I could disobey my master and ignore the fare. Let him ride the ferry. I sighed. Turned the vessel his way again. 'Come in! I will not say it a second time!' He did not hesitate and jumped in. Seated himself in the gangway. Safer than the seat. If the ferry swerved in any dangerous curve, if the boiling drops of water jumped in the ferry, they'd be intercepted by the wide seats on either side. Again my arms paddled the ferry on their own. And I feared the torments of hell, the cries of anguish, the horrible sights would be too much for such a young one. We entered the region where the torments began And the first time my awakened senses witnessed the hellish design

Picture 1 The Sirens watch the ferryman with his young charge. Those whom death seized whilst enveloped in pride, the object of their pride was entombed. A fiery sepulcher made of what they most desired. Upon the stream, we watched as we coursed past, Was stretched an entire aisle of despondency, teeming with fervent cries, pleading for protection of their object of affection, Still drawn to what in life they held most dear. Beyond the gates stood an array of sinners Newcomers and those still coming, Being weighed upon scales, and those with even an atom’s weight of pride were initiated into the chamber. A tortured soul thrust his neck out his tomb and spake to us on his own Eyes closed but distilling bloody rheum, ‘In life, many a hearts I broke Prided greatly the beauty endued upon me by Aleph Lead many a maidens to their murderous ruin Some drove through their hearts a stake, some leapt off a cliff Some who wasted away, some who slit their wrists, Though I may have felt, a momentary rush of both sorrow and sympathy, Yet never gave a thought I to my hubris. A conduit I served between life and death for vulnerable maidens Yet never checked I, myself or my conduct. Now I am trapped in this burning tomb. My skin burns and returns anew Then burns again and yet again. In life I worried about the sweat upon my brow. Kept always on me a kerchief to wipe it away. But now neither sweat nor brow I worry about For the entire being is engulfed in fire!’ And then in yet another chamber stood a maiden with boxed head She looked in a mirror and lamented her condition A box with two small windows just for the eyes To entice her into removing the box and when she did, her visage was sprayed upon by spurts of fuel and she would catch fire When again she boxed her face, the fire seized to be The horror of her sentence was not the mere concealment of her charm She was afflicted with terrible compulsion! Under compulsion she was forced to remove the veil which protected her and catch a glimpse of her once comely face. But cruel sirens both envious and dutiful, Burnt her with their dregs Then there was yet another man who prided in the abundance of his kin He was afflicted now with paucity of offspring And from above came a voice, loud and sonorous ‘Now toil and bring forth from yourself, The children you beheld with much arrogance! Now try and create from yourself those beautiful babes!’ Lachrymose and despondent, but aware of his incapability to do so He raised his hands to heaven and cried ‘I know I am incapable, so stitch again my insides and assemble me as you once did!’ For he was gashed at the naval and his bowels lay outward And no pleasure in beauty would the proud now derive Such is hell which the earth dwellers deny! And even I the ferryman of hell, grimaced at the severity of such a view And looked back to behold the child and perhaps comfort him if he were shocked Yet it was I who was appalled For he was unamused and sung a tune to himself Then removed a leaf from his wreath and played with it! I dismissed this behavior for a while. Our ferry continued to propel forward. Into another cavern we entered, Where anguished groans were suppressed by torture devices Behind a dark veil, we heard a lament ‘I was nearly blessed with the Truth. A blessed man, a servant of Aleph , humble one from the desert sands, A camel rider, but that day without a vehicle Delivered in his soft voice, a discourse on the truth of life. But I, enraged at being told to forsake my faith in the muarij , assembled my wives and my boys And I being a tribal leader; assembled my clansmen. We hurled stones, pelted pebbles and bled him till his shoe was full. Full of blood and yet I stopped not I stopped not though he retired under the shade of a grapevine, wounded terribly in both body and soul, yet I felt no remorse for that poor, honest soul. That dweller of the desert. Though he wept bitter tears, I was merciless! Now my hands which threw rocks at him, my eyes which relished his agony, my feet which moved toward him, all melt in masses, Leaving behind an unfinished blob in this charged hearth then fixed and undone again!’ Even I the ferryman of hell grimaced at the severity of such a view And looked back to behold the child and perhaps comfort him if he were frightened Yet it was I who was appalled! For he had extended his neck outward to get a better view of the tortured man! In all my centuries long appointment as conveyor of souls, I had never witnessed this fiery segment of hell, And now I did with a young charge, of curious behavior, in my vessel. I saw that man, who sat in what appeared a hearth With blasts of fire from the furnace above and the furnace below Baked him and baked him well But such is hell, which the earth dwellers deny Long I awaited a response from the boy, any at all but awaited he perhaps till an even brutal situation presented itself to speak to me! Then it occurred to me that he may have been mute. But I was sure I’d heard a chuckle when we passed the furnace! When entered we an even hotter region of hell The ferry acquired from within the chinks, Small wheels to drive atop the scorching desert sands With alarmed wakefulness I had never treaded before that dismal scape, yet I am certain I must have delivered many a wretched there, For many a wretched give in to their carnal desires. Hideous, carnivorous and ravaging lust, One that bears with it, the burden to weigh down Man and murj to beings even lower than animals To ones even lower than the gadding fauns of the woods and the woodlands Yet earthly poets liken it to the music of the lute And wild youth court it as part of sportive years Where we were, outside what seemed shaped like a cauldron of the crone; Where cooks she the youth’s meat and bones And here in hell, like a tribute to great Aleph, A hecatomb of beings degenerate in life Their skins served as layers of fat into which the sacrificial flesh is wrapped, Their own flesh was food for the pot, And burnt to carrion by that parching, scorching desert sands Naked and shamed, left with companions of their mortal sins Fiery winds swept around them, And sandstorms engulfed them Then cooked them through and through leaving nothing but their tail bone, From which they formed anew. Upon this remaining piece grew columns of longer bones And layers upon layers of flesh and skin Then the process again would continue And no comfort nor expiation would come to them, now that immortal are they But such is hell, which the earth dwellers deny. And once again I heard a nasty snigger and turned to accost the boy ‘How can you enjoy these scenes, you cruel, cruel child! Now I was curious. Before I left him on Dushashana’s doorsteps I needed to ask him a few questions. 'Why are you here child?' He raised his head once, gave a small scowl for being interrupted from his play, and then returned to it without answering. 'I asked you a question boy! Why are you here?' What have you done that would bring you to this terrible realm?' Again he did not respond. I was furious. I needed answers. 'If you would not heed me, then I shall cast you into these waters!’ But as I’d thought, he did not speak. And enraged I bellowed again 'Why do you not answer me? Is this how you treat a one who showed you mercy? Did I not take pity on your penniless person and thought it better to give you a free ride than torture you by letting you roam as a ghost in the human world? Did I not go out of my way, disobey the law and am now delivering you to the master of Irkalla, allowing you judgment? I have done all that, yet you are most insolent!' And my tirade was neutralized by silence. Whilst we travelled further, We reached a palace of goodly construction But upon it lay clouds laden with fire And shrieking sirens with burning pinions Our path lead us inside the palace, where every atom Shivered with a rhythmic and lowly moaning Within a chamber we ventured and I released my paddle for the ferry moved on its own The boy was eager to know of what cruel designs ruled there And he projected his neck outward for a peep. For our welcome, it seemed the doors of the chamber opened, The door posts and lintels smashed, And the display inside made public for our view, In there we saw tortures of varied severity. The adulterers’ path; and the adulterers admitted into such chambers were shackled hand and foot, and before them spread out on the table, two platters; One of good, well dressed and fresh meat, While on the other was meat rotten, stinking and filled with maggots Behind each sinner stood a Rakshas, with dark eyes, wingless and huge, jaws locked with fangs which dripped venom Armed with a whip which they frequently used upon their charges’ backs, The sinners, though given an option between the putrid and the pure, Deliberately chose the platter set with rotten meat. Each morsel brought great indigestion, they puked and vomited bile but continued to fill their bellies with it, till they could eat no more. No respite was afforded to them, however, For the Rakshas whipped their stomach such that they vomited whatever they’d eaten and return to the foul meat before them For in life they had lived such; refused the company of their holy spouses And famished their appetites with foul, illegitimate partners they’d taken for themselves Now without fear of being spied, Or without fear of vigil, that appetite they shall enjoy Such is hell, which the earth dwellers deny! This boy, so relished the agony of the damned, had it been upon him, he'd have lunged toward the angels, snatched the whip from their hands, and unleashed the punishments himself His pleasure was so tethered to the anguish around him Perhaps he would never want to leave. Then we entered a path. An open barren field, and graves dug like boxes in the earth, souls within lying trapped. No tombstony, No elegy in their name, And no bouquet of flowers upon it which smelt of familial fragrance. Their eyes forced open by some invisible force. Their bodies pushed hard into the earth. They looked perpetually at the sky. Both I and the boy, raised our heads to see that which they saw The dark clouds arrayed together in an oceanic whirlpool Then it was cleft open and became the color of murky oil The monstrous clouds roared and showered wretched souls from their laden clouds Down they fell, and it was a terrible descent And those within the graves, unable to move, paralyzed throughout could not even blink in fear And they felt as if those of the skies, pounded their bodies with hailstorm, It was a mere illusion- a torturous illusion! Then skies were split open, and a gorgeous view was displayed A spectacle of heaven, where both the floor and the firmament were built of clouds Where no mortal feet chafed. Where none lost footing. Where mortal mounts were like none those of earth, rather ones with plumed pinions. Mounts with torsos of multifarious colors, Mounts which never alight lest their masters will them And one mount- the SirMirai bird of the highest realm of Heaven The only one of heavenly bird kind allowed to perch upon the throne of Aleph, And from there keep watch upon all the realms of Aleph's making Whose wing beat with the fragrance of incense and fruits of Divine trees, Whose wing is smoother than an infant's cheek, And whose head is whiter than the fairest dove on earth. It came and perched it's magnificent body upon the pinnacle of Hell for the wretches to behold, And it darted it's pearly eyes upon those lying in their graves, Till their eyes brimmed with tears of utter regret; Regret at what they've lost, Regret at what they could have achieved with a pious life. Then it spread the expanse of its wings, There where the most deserving ones of Heaven have braced, And flew low above their graves, and left for its Divine Abode, giving the wretches a slight taste of what they’d lost eternally The boy and I heard the intense wailing from within the earth, The solemn lament And though none could see us, yet with us they conversed ‘Oh how we've denied the Truth of Life. How we mocked the existence of life beyond life How we shrugged the thought of an eternity beyond our mortal confines Oh you ferryman of the Divine, You who have been assigned the most torturous task would know our misery Help us escape this cruel abode Intervene for us and grant us some reprieve, For these graves to your eyes are mere hollows in the earth, But they enclose us within their suffocating embrace, Bring their entire weight to crush every bone in our body, and whilst our aching souls struggle within these paralyzed molds It laughs at our anguish, then prays to the Lord to unleash more misery.’ There was nothing I could do, a mere slave of the fiery realm I watched as a multitude of angels wingless, horrible glances and terrible smiles, descended the whirling clouds of blood and bile upon vultures with devil's heads, Those vile brothers of the Harpies . One angel and vulture assigned to every grave. Went down clasping hammers designed for the very bodies of the condemned, and with great might they brought them down upon their charge, and crushed the fey bodies yet again, in places where the cruel grave was unable to. There bodies each time were rebuilt anew And no reprieve shall come for in life the Truth themselves they declined, but such is Hell which the earth dwellers deny! An entire realm of punishments was separated by caves, washed with waters of oblivion from start to end- though it disgorged into three mouths; into Irkalla's navel, into its limbs, and into the seat of power where sat Aleph's governor Dusashana , He who had defected from his kind after he gained enlightenment And worshipped he upon a pinnacle, night and day, with his hands raised in prayer, and his head upon the summit in humility- and Aleph listened to his call, When He saw Dusashana’s heart rent in throes of the sins of his past, The sins of a thousand years were erased from the book of his deeds, And a legion of the Malaika descended for him from a cleft in the clouds- And granted him the governance of Irkalla. The murj then designed a terrible punishment for all those who defrauded, deceived and broke their covenants with those who trusted them A terrible design worthy of such wretches, and to witness it we then proceeded. Arranged in rows were those on whom the judgment had been passed, And entering from the gates were those newly admitted, Stripped off of all modesty for undeserving are they, and their hearts now receptacles for fear, in life Aleph promised all His creations that none were to be burdened beyond their capacity, So each of His Creation be humbled, But they who deceived and defrauded, caused distress to their trustees, Greater than which their hearts were made to bear Now they suffered similar pains, some lifted boulders upon their backs, Some lifted sacks of iron, some lifted pieces of land And climbed uphill as they felt their spines cracking under the bulk. Then a voice came from above, a voice vibrant and sonorous, A voice which rumbled the very peak they treaded upon and it spoke to them in anger ‘Now reduced to donkeys and mules are ye For ye broke thy covenant and wagged thy tongue for deceit And you caused great troubles to many a families, And so many died with the distress you caused them. And so many resigned from all their comforts for you deceived them. Now go, and carry forth these weights until your bodies break, And even then keep walking!’ When they reached the mountain top, they were received by comely youth under a kiosk, like siblings they were to the immortal wine bearers in Heaven, though not as the boy on my ferry, but nearly as lovely a sight And when the wretches cast their eyes up on their visages, They leapt under the shade of the kiosk and spread their hands before the boys- who filled their jars with some pleasant looking drink, and exhorted them to have a draught- And when they brought the glasses to their lips, They yelled in agony, for the young boys served neither wine nor water, rather venom, and when they forced the drink down their charges' throats, They took on the forms of seething vipers, and thrust their fangs into the wretches’ flesh- To disgorge the last pint of venom For in life they deceived with merry words, and untrue oaths and impure hearts And hid their treachery under a friendly guise, And such a torment and pain they shall suffer for all eternity The serpents shall cast them down on the pediment of the mountain, and cause them to forget what is to come as they reach the top! And whilst we beheld this spectacle, I heard the boy cheer for the vipers. When I looked at him, he did not care, and he grew evermore enthusiastic for what was to come And once again I heard a nasty snigger and turned to accost the boy ‘How can you enjoy these scenes, you cruel, cruel child! How can you be so stiff of demeanour, so lukewarm of emotion, so unaffected by the anguish around you? Were you in life an implacable killer? One whose appetite for blood was ever unsated?' And he did not answer. Returned to playing with his wreath. Maintained silence. Peeped through his locks at me then hummed in joy Then he roused and floundered toward me By his approach I was intimidated to the point I fell down on my knees yet the ferry propelled itself Perhaps the sirens had formed a raft of billows to move it. The boy cupped my face in his hands and came close to me. There was a surge of images before my eyes. Haunting, terrible images. As if the history of the universe came to me And that surge I could not bear. ‘Let me tell you a story! That should pass the time while we make our way to my destination. Come! Let us give your curious mind a little something to ponder over. Come! Let us give your insipid existence a little flavor.’ CHAPTER TWO It was called the land of the Oyster For its once patron goddess was called the Seed of the Oyster And its once ruling queen emerged from the waters too Oh you, Aleph’s weavers up on high! You who lengthen or curtail the thread of life! You who weep with anguish when you run your scissors across the yarn, And bustle with joy when a renewed yarn to you is issued. And you who make the tapestries of history. In your name I sing, this tale I tell of old Alakapur! Where once rose the empire of the world. The centre of man’s commerce The epitome of feminine power Of masculine failure Of immortal hubris! Of man’s downfall owing to his ignorance! I speak of the land whose tale is written as an epitaph upon the expanse of earthly waters. I sing of the land where once the pinnacle of snow crested mountains pierced the carpet of Aleph’s heaven, but their thrust was laved by the clouds which wreathed them. From whose rock hewn furrows gushed forth, at the strike of Jami’s pine cone; his namesake river. Its white froth like abundant pearls being tossed about its shores Its cascade like the blue white length of Ishnan’s hair Ah Ishnan! The true Oyster queen, The One of beauty, the giver of wealth plenty, Of offspring abundant, Of pleasure increase, The mate of Jami, his mater too. In Alakapur it was where mortal eyes last set eyes on her torpid form With the bleeding, weeping heart of Jami Her tears commingled with his blood and still rush with all their fervor as the lake of Jami in the North, Her tears merge with sibilant whispers in the ears of lake Jami’s billows. Like a bereaved mother she wept, Clutched fast the organ torn from his breast And clung it to her own like a suckling infant Perhaps it was then that she became both mother and lover to Jami What sin! What shame! What indecency wrought by mortal men Associated they with the two deities strange connections. Humans who were then still in their nascent states when countries had yet to be formed, uncivilized and unlearned. Still inchoate beings seeking a home on land All of mankind collected on two places This place called Alakapur being the greater of the two For the Carthassus mountains were home to a savage lot of women Hunting down madly and killing their men. Though readily gifted with immortality, The queen of Alakapur sought godhood, She sought to rule the world of men and transfigure the dominant laws in favor of herself She built the high arching obelisk, called Enmekawar, which penetrated the fecund clouds Ever laden with moisture above the skies of Alakapur A site then hewn at every inch with etchings of her grand achievements Of her first inadvertent slaying of a foolish brood of mortal men Of her lengthy swim through the vast water reservoirs Of her emergence, of her taking charge, Of how she established commerce and business, The tale of both gumption and pride of one creation of Aleph The tale of how she became Daibah, the queen of Alakapur! Alakapur! That beauteous Alakapur! Beholder of the five seasons Like its goddess Ishnan, it once was coffered within a mystical firmament, though unlike hers of shell, it was entombed within a dome of smoke Isolated but not cut off from the world Veiled from impious immortal eyes Beautiful, docile and calm of nature, As all men were wont to think of women For to a woman it belonged and with her touch it was nurtured, With a woman’s care it was raised and with her rule it was fortified And though men lived there, Men worked there, Men there did not rule. But that was, what Lughanshesh had heard of it And what all men spake on board The ship suffused with feminine touch The culinary scent of a well furnished kitchen; Cargo of peppers with multifarious hues Cinnamon sticks whose slightly ground particles were upheaved by occasional winds Cardamom and honey, delectable and sweet to one’s olfactory nerves Tobacco and bread of which the men partook in generously (albeit illegitimately) The bread was as though it had been leavened with the Haoma That was how it so sharply soothed the senses once alarmed; An almost divine inebriation Akin to being touched by the tip of Jami’s pine cone And there was also, a surfeit of barrels with taps attached filled with Carthassian wine, from Carthassus in the west A rocky region in the distance (and the only other segregated by the water), That formed the other majority land on earth It was in Carthassus where it was said Jami reappeared Roused from apparent death despite the ravage done to him Where he played the flutes and wrought in the air a maddening gale that incensed the inhabitants and engendered in women a monstrous strength And a monstrous confidence; thus Carthassian women and wine Became oft associated with both potation and strength And like Alakapur it became yet another land ruled by women, but a cohort of them While in Alakapur, Daibah alone reigned supreme. And the obelisk she set up as an imperious summon to all However distant as mankind then was not much scattered It was the obelisk now which Lughanshesh descried Its crown high touched the clouds about Just halfway under the obelisk the firmament of smoke moved vacuously with billowing motes both grey and white Alakapur was an island with a singular promontory that peeped out Like an arm extending itself to the ship; Thus it was used as harbor The water foamed and sped incoungruously The high sails set windward The keels set to cut through the thick tides The prow thrust forward and cut the winds Not a single bird flew past them, Nor any lingered aloft in the skies Lughanshesh stood with nimble feet on the mast’s tip The afternoon sun hung high and cast a sharp, steep shadow on the oars and the bulwark Quite a sight he was, though none took notice of him in their conundrum Save one child; white skinned, white haired, With white lashes too, And a thick wannish membrane before his eyes, Under which, like swift rising and falling tides, the irises moved And traced Lughanshesh’s from from top to bottom Lughanshesh the Murj! The trusted son of the Murj king Babeel! Limited to and vacillating between two forms Beside his own natural Murj make Man and raven; expedients both for his job of running errands for his father A task which occupied most of his time A task which he never tired of Yet, amongst that cruel, cold and resentful creatures of fire Lughanshesh was perhaps the most compassionate Presently he watched the boy transfixed by him Certainly that child was blind Still a surge of formidable energy rushed through Lughanshesh, And caused him to consider being sighted By a cargo full of mortal eyes Though they were of fire, and not the one that aids to perfect the clay forms upon the potter’s wheel rather one that would burn it Never would an immortal, however redoubtable, seek to be rapturous to human eyes For mortal eyes by natural laws and from their time of conception in the womb Are veiled from the sightings of the immortal Despite the oft attempted liaisons between man and murj To wring from this unholy alliance a monstrous hybrid Lughanshesh was often wont to deliberation upon such actions and their outcomes He looked down at his own frame He had adopted a guise of a man But one of considerable stature unfit for human mingling If he were to infiltrate and a human form he were to assume It would be one less daunting Thus realizing the conspicuity of his prodigious bulk He opted to change into a form more adaptable He was ever armed with a mace, a staff Constructed in the forge of the immortal fashioner, Bolund Bolund, the only one who discerned the tremendous effort required for Lughanshesh to transform And of the Murj lot, owing to his increasing travels between the realms Lughanshesh was most in need of transformation. The cunning workman, the crippled blacksmith, Bolund Urged to inquest one day of the messenger’s torpidity He approached the weakened murj with compassion great And with a brotherly stroke of his aching sinews (For they were part brothers, sharing a common father) Suggested, in earnest, to make for Lughanshesh A brazen staff of shimmering bronze And after it’s master, named it the Lugh Supreme of all the staffs, And twofold potent as a cudgel weapon too For its bulbous top and tapered tip made it a suitable mace Around its lengths were twined the two serpents of healing prowess It channeled Lughanshesh’s thoughts and allowed him to make manifest solidly Via a tap of the tip his transfiguration, It eased tremendously, the great languor that bit his sinews which each transformation wrought within him When the Lugh had worked the first time, Lughanshesh was delighted But equally wary of being indebted to Bolund, of whom he was ever circumspect And both knew it was a cunning artifice Bolund employed, To acquire the trust of the most trusted one. Now that the messenger sought to transform He did as he was wont to do, a tap of the tip and a change came about The bronze snakes which gained momentary animation, Suckled and fed upon the languor which caused their master distress And thus after that, Lughansesh never tired of his perpetual task of seeking and delivering. He assumed the form of one youth he encountered in Carthassus. Quite different from his brethren in looks A beauteous but hapless youth driven to an early death When Lughanshesh’s terrible raven like form he saw It turned him mad and he leapt off a cliff But not before his visage Lughansesh had well imprinted in his mind He recollected that form, urged the Lugh to aid him And thus he tapped, with a golden puff about the snakes, Widened they their terrible jaws, flashed and flickered forked tongues And seething gazes, and mass of coiling bods; All of which would soon turn to lifeless stone with subsequent tap Now his body changed; The stubble like thick sheep wool vanished, Dark eyes turned to bright azure, Tough wiry hair became golden locks, Youthful and supple became the roughened skin, The bones, the flesh all transformed, The breast plate, the slippers, the reeves, the clasps and all his accoutrements adjusted to their new fitting When he tapped his staff a second time the Lugh disappeared. It was done and the disquietude caused him by the strange child on board eased It had yet to be completely vanquished, however. The ship then sailed toward the Oyster country The curious obelisk; Lughanshesh heard them call it Enmekawar, It roared high of green and yellowish length, Perhaps a thousand terraced, its verdure reached the top but towards its overreach the foliage had dulled and withered Taller in stature than the mount Meros, and taller perhaps than any stature a Murj could assume. Down the sails Lughanshesh leapt amidst oblivious crewmen And with great ease mingled with both the young and the old. The lamb’s face imposed upon his own, The blind boy watched as if using that ocular pair Like the animal’s young but dark, soulless orbs peered into Lughanshesh’s eyes Then the boy raised his arm toward the sky ‘The billows about the city stand still The winds above our heads are calm, Where have they all gone? No fish swim close. No bird holds aloft. Where have they all gone? Too calm are the waves, Calmer still the winds, Might come together later for a terrible union. For all powerful energies once calmed, Increase tenfold in momentum! A storm shall come! A storm shall come! A storm shall come!’ The eyes behind the glaucous membrane vanished He foamed thickly at the mouth. His body seized by sharp convulsions. So terribly he shook as if jolted by the clasps of death. Like his blinded gaze stared into the vacant eyes of Samael . ‘Control the augur! Take him inside!’ The words of the crewmaster were quickly heeded. The boy was rushed into the cabin, an old man raced behind him. The father perhaps, for the pallid face shone with paternal concern. ‘An augur?’ Lughanshesh thought, and quite astonished was he When he looked about to check, the boy’s words held credibility, Indeed all was still, as if nature turned momentarily docile, To harness its energy for a terrible storm. No wind, no wave, no bird, no fish Just as the boy had spoken. A storm is what these omens portend. A storm is what the boy had spoken of And perhaps a storm is what the Weavers on the loom predicted. Then a chatter filled the ship. Many laughed, none empathized, They beheld the poor lad, deprived of vision and perhaps health With such immortal odium, knowing not that what afflicted him then, Could soon afflict them as well for age waxes upon all men, And with it wanes the youthful health. ‘The boy is mad, always rambling!’ ‘So young, yet so senile! Always prating like an old, old man!’ ‘Perhaps he IS old and does not look it!’ ‘Indeed perhaps his father was of the Murj kind, or perhaps his mother.’ ‘Why do we have him on the ship? Dirty Murj blood runs through his veins. Fire ails him!’ ‘He is fraught with a composition both mortal and immortal!’ ‘His poor body is utterly confused! Aye! It’ll be virtuous to slay him. Relieve him of his affliction and relieve ourselves of his blabbering!’ ‘Aye slay him and empty his blood into the ocean! If the storm comes then of the wind he was. If comes a flood then to the waters he belonged!’ ‘To men none are more licentious of the Murj than he of the wind and thunder!’ ‘The lewd, wanton, ever amorous Babeel. Descrying mortal women for his leisure. This lad must be his and all of his must be ugly!’ Amidst the laughter, amidst the chatter, amidst the childlike bustling of men on the ship, Lughanshesh heard it all and was incensed Yet to himself he admitted some truth in it. Long he too had fought these thoughts. Thought of the enormous brood of children fathered by his father Babeel, From a deceived paramour Or from a wife he took in wedlock only to later abandon. Or the ones he emanated solely from within his ownself Now, with neither the tug of the wind upon the sails, Nor the raft of ocean billows to push the vessel They ploughed forward the ship with the anchor. Lughanshesh then saw fluttering down from the sky, In flight on swift pinions, His long term mates; Vice and Cunning. The two urgent friends of the messenger came. They were like birds yet not entirely birdlike One white and one dark, perched atop his shoulder. They muttered to him messages that he ought to deliver, Collected from Babeel or from others in the Murj lot. Vice armed him with expedient words. Cunning gave him swift thought. Ah! His loyal pets. Ones he never went without. They’d sensed the disquietude caused him by the great mist Upheaving nearby waters and stirring the winds and the sands. A redoubtable mist that enclosed like a dome, The entire city of Alakapur. None of the men were unnerved by its billowing form. As if they were quite accustomed to it, and perhaps they were. When the men set foot atop the promontory. The firmament cleft open and gave way to a gaping chasm. As if infused with a life of its own. When it opened, a gust issued forth suffused with salted air and humid vapors Golden dawn first lit the tall tip of Enmekawar, Then encroached the plains of the enigmatic city. Out came a stifled racket of a city’s bumble. He’d heard from travelling tale tellers, From historians and poets, From Carthassian merchants willing to trade, All had spoken of this mist, which though penetrable to mortal men, Was imperious and rigid to beings of any other composition. Like a rampart of a fortress. None from the Murj kind had been gutsy enough To sally forth into Alakapur for a lengthy tarrying, To confirm these mysteries on their own. CHAPTER THREE Strong willed Lughanshesh of twofold compassion Ventured forth within the ominous cavern Armed with his filial mates, Vice and Cunning With two wine barrels pressed between his arms and torso The ego of mortal men was much slighted. How was it possible for a youth, no more than perhaps fifteen To lift with such ease, and clasp with an ease even greater Two barrels larger than ones own self Cunning upon Lughanshesh’s shoulder Whispered into his ear a quick advice Thus the messenger put down one barrel, Though he in earnest held onto the other. For he needed to gain entry into the city as one making human effort. To alarm the shipmen was not his aim. Yet his light, alien appearance amidst those swarthy men Had caught their attention. Contrary to the tales of the mist’s impervious nature He was thus astonished when it allowed him in He entered and without deliberation flung the barrels away Looked about the very desolate location A bleak view; rocks and crags. Dark, brooding clouds which traversed low. The sightings of a still nascent moon despite the height of daybreak outside the chasm Though the inviting scent of incense, perfumes and oils suspended There was not an aught of life It was a dreary, utterly depressing sight Encircled by mountains looming heavenward Against the dull blue sky, their dim, tawny structure was lurid, Under the cliff were gaping caverns from which issued thread like streams Their froth cast a delirious scent Within were hanging rocks with sharpened tips, Seats carved into crags, stout and unwelcoming. There was the continuous hum which receded oft into a most plaintive cadence As if some preternatural force acted to suppress the distant bustle and chatter Lughanshesh would know, he too did not belong to the human realm, And this desolate scape though not his, Was certainly not from the mortal world either. Through deep furrows and tracks blasting with steam and smoke The titanic ocean tides blasting against the ramparts and mountains; Then returned in docile ripples A slight animation had come about in the clouds And Lughanshesh ventured forth into the cavern Deep and dismal meandering canals formed by nature, And by nature left unfinished, So wild, so pristine, untamed and true The water bubbled, mixed with seething sands He went down, he went up, left then right His human skin was left chafed and bruised And perhaps a cut had bled him though unwittingly he had healed himself The hum, at certain intervals, would turn to audible but indistinct voices And on the walls would appear a transient display of painted symbols In blood so old and dried it had begun to peel It would then vanish as he’d blink and walk further. ‘Am I being played games with? I was told of the queen’s oracular powers But for one to entrap an immortal in illusion, Is she that formidable?’ Then one prudent thought surpassed all thoughts If he were to traverse into a void, never would he be able to scale the entire city. There were footsteps behind him which lingered then followed. Upon his turn he was accosted by a strange, old man. The matted beard was knotted in places And parted at the center to reveal an aged neck, From which hung bags of loosened skin, There were small, but deep cuts in his cheeks And blood had congealed just under a parched lip His skin was unwholesome and stippled with pigment His hair was long and grey The steam had condensed on the strands So they appeared like lackluster pearls And he had not been grooming himself His ankle length raiment was white and unclean His rotund chest curved like an old woman’s His feet were the oddest of the lot; One delicate and fair, the other roughened and unbecoming. He was certainly mortal, lest his human vibes betrayed the Murj The stranger looked on with calcined eyes Into which it appeared, lachrymosity had taken permanent residence There was in him a certain semblance of the young augur on the ship. Tied long behind his back, he then divested two stout arms Took one step toward Lughanshesh ‘I know why you come, immortal Messenger!’ Lughanshesh was appalled. ‘Who are you?’ Lughanshesh asked. ‘Heed my caveat Messenger, for I speak from morbid experience, From imprecations that have lengthened my mortal years, From unholy orisons that have solidified my ailments in my waning days. As a wanderer, wandering between worlds I tell you, No good ever comes from smiting a snake They are deceptive accomplices of the devil. I once did, hurled my staff on two lewd snakes hindering my path Admonished them. From public indecency told them to refrain. Else they’d suffer a second time, my brutal disdain But lo! It was I that suffered instead Cursed by the female, cast out by the very society I so wished to please Made two in one body; A hoary head surmounts my wrinkled neck, And two saggy breasts cling to my chest. I cannot disrobe before any, for too ashamed am I of the travesty I’ve become If that woman you seek, if indeed a woman she be, Were to set her cruel eyes on your fate, And if she portends your doom, then you are certainly a fey being. For she; like me is two, But unlike I, neither of her twos is mortal. She is the snake of perdition coiling inside a feminine bod A rapturous device to ensnare all in her lair She is serpentine and womanlike, thus her wrath precedes her logic Thus she ruminates upon a future but stays a loner Disdainful as she is of the world of men. But if you venture into her dismal abode If you slight her and if you lend her a mate She will come to you doubly scorned. So Messenger, take my advice and turn back from this task that you’ve come to do Some alliances are written to be tried, but they should never be attempted. What you decide today shall owe to your future!’ A tear erupted in one inanimate eye And wiping it away he turned, He groped the walls and rocks to aid his path. For a fleeting moment, the unnerved Lughanshesh thought him blind Then he thought of following him to further inquire. ‘Tell me your name!’ Lughanshesh said but the man had disappeared Lughanshesh turned and descried a path An opening to the outside where the din of the city’s bustle was somewhat discernable Throughout his walk Lughanshesh brooded between vacillating opinions; Either the man was mad or he spoke the truth, How else he’d known Lughanshesh was a Messenger? Into a narrow channel the cave receded And Lughanshesh thrust himself into the vacant space He was pushed outward into the city When he turned, the chamber had disappeared. The city itself caused him disquietude It was day but there was no light It was chilling but no wind, Like an untamed woods there was a series of trees So densely populous with foliage, not a single branch showed Perhaps painted in animal blood, of which plenty had been used, Were symbols upon high hoisted wooden planks Grimy white and slightly stippled statues of a woman stood in the corner Adorning an asphodel wreath Her modesty had been secured by long garlands around her chest and hips And a singular gust dug up the earth to reveal next to the statue A coiled white mass From an open end issued the passage of charred dust Remains of the city’s distant sister A desolate land of black ground stippled with white ash And its burned shrunken rocks, flowed in the stream which disgorged in the ruddy mouth of yet another river The one of Ishnan’s tears and Jami’s holy blood, Either salubrious or death inducing, Either abundance or plague, For it brought forth a brood of living but ailing fish Which swam about its swift, gurgling passage The one that came from far East in streaks Was still infused with the charnel remains of honey sweet milk Which flowed in seven streams each emerged from the teats of sacred Hinda, The much revered cow; either woman up and bovine down, or bovine entirely The cow that emerged from the churning of the cosmic ocean When blue faced Babeel participated for the Haoma. Was Lughanshesh there, perhaps an infant in the arms of an Asara ? He could not recall, but the cow was appointed to the lot of beings later called after it’s namesake goddess cow, Hinda. Who it was assumed to have oft absorbed the worship of the comely but mournful Ishnan, whom later men had worshipped Called her the bestower of abundance like her erstwhile lover. In their inchoate beliefs they’d made for her a low lying citadel And turned to casting babes upon the flaming pyres in her name Or drowning them in the stream of milk But some later deed had caused them, along with their citadel to burn What conspired, none knew. But the quiet, black, ashy remnants of that city lingered. There was an abundance of caves hewn into the mountain base And orange light flickered within And by the candle’s dancing flame Incongruent shadows wrought menacing figures Upon the walls they crawled, occasionally faded into the darkness They reemerged doubly darker to course the walls; When into one lair Lughanshesh entered Inspired a gust laden wholly with frankincense Then an aroma of burning meat There was an altar Two men poised in earnest prostration, Before the burning candles was an effigy With the flayed ribs placed in front, wrapped in layers of fat Neither raised their heads upon the approach of Lughanshesh Then came a rotund woman fully covered Veiled face and covered feet and hands She raised her arms heavenward then doffed the veil In a grim cry they all participated ‘Oh hail the goddess! That being of both benevolence and maleficence Who can both afflict and heal Who can engender chaos then bring peace She of the snake breed, from the amnion of the Divine Tree, She who lives on mortal life and death, She who cries to nurture barren lands and withered trees She the divine, the immortal, the goddess, the queen, She who breathes life in the dead and rest in the living She who was and will never cease to be’ They proceeded into a hapless weeping Endless, until Lughanshesh planned to turn for another cave For this second one he traversed a long, winding path Sinuous and deathly, partly halted by a young boy The only one who appeared wholly sensible, ‘Where can I find the queen?’ Lughanshesh asked The question blanched the boy’s already pallid cheeks He was of weak countenance His muscles seemed impeded by the knotted tendons When he moved his arm, there came a soft cackling noise, ‘Who are you?’ he questioned ‘I come aboard the trade ship. I have lost my way I seek the council of the queen!’ The boy’s eyes widened ‘But the queen never engages in direct conversation with a male Not that she abhors men, Just that she loves the better her own kind Thus either employ for your dialogue a woman envoy Or turn back on your heels For uninvited she takes none!’ The boy left, turned for a cave and Lughanshesh was left alone A procession of a hundred men and women then erupted Each held onto a long torch At the centre was a girm, trim coifed young girl. Wrapped in pearls beaded together A headdress she wore, bigger than her own stature Of leaves and flowers and fruits Dewy eyed, coral lipped, cheeks well rouged artificially, Eyes kohl smeared and tumefied as if by day long weeping Her feet were comely but bare In her delicate fingers she clutched a twig and profusely wept None amidst that lot of hundred took note of her anguish And a woman repeatedly cajoled her to walk The crescendo of their hymns alerted them to raise and lower their torches Which burnt green and blue and black too A crucible with incense and coal was handed to the girl The procession being headed by a priestly buxom woman Whilst they travelled the harsh terrain Toward the Enmekawar they walked The woman kept her eyes shut Lughanshesh discerned a distant flame at the obelisk’s pediment The rising billows formed a mirage of the view behind it Undulating waves, crests and troughs A wooden pyre set alight, toward which they moved While solemnly chanting curious prayers They sang in the name of Hinda, They sang in the name of Ishnan, They sang in the name of Daibah, They imputed to their goddesses great, universal attributes ‘Oh you fair one who emerged from the white of the ocean Who swims swift upon its billows Who courses the deep water on her carriage of lions Whose face is unguent with tears of incense Who rules both on water and land Who drives the creatures of the wild, into lustful passions by day And drives tamed humans to the same by night Who sheds pearls from her eyes Herself deprived of her late mate Fair mother, fair lover too!’ The head priestess stretched an arm Spread about water across the road Threw some on the young girl ‘Oh rise, young Jami! That boy of numerous births Come so that ye may live to see thy wondrous deeds Or is it that ye have travelled beyond the scope of man And lost appetite for the mortal realm Come! Come and smite ye with thy pine cone, They who ravaged ye And bless she who cried for ye And thy heart salvaged she!’ The women screamed, the men bellowed. At each hour they doffed off a garment, eyes impassive and lost. All of them weak of body, perhaps a voluntary ritualistic starvation Two men and two women walked at the end holding baskets of fruits and platters of meat When they had neared Enmekawar, Lughanshesh deciphered its etchings Such masterful work, such adroit carving onto stone Millions of tiny grey men in numerous grim depictions Of ghastly battles fought between immortals long Of dark clouds parting, of Babeel’s disgraced fall Of ritual methods, of infanticide and incest Of the placement of Hinda above Hind. Thousand terraced Enmekawar Set with morbid faced statues at each level; With lips curled in dismay Sad nimbus overhead Unholy aureole over the brow And teeming with offices now silent Not a single bustle of man’s activity within that desolate stretch It reached heavenward as far as the eyes could see and then longer, The glaucous clouds gyred above its sharp tip The stone statues wept with inanimate tears Eyes shut and arms outstretched From stone cups they poured an endless stream of water, down the drain it went and the cycle repeated The young girl was brought forth Before the fire she was forced to stand ‘Breathe it in child! Breathe it in!’ The girl followed the instruction Quietly without the heave of the chest Or a choke from her mouth The tears issued profusely from her placid stony eyes ‘The fire will select you child! We will cast our oils; if it turns red then it desires you It’s not a death my child, it’s a chance at immortality As a goddess you will LIVE!’ A furor erupted in the crowd The head priestess took an effigy in her hand Shaped like a child, Extolled her wondrous birth Exhorted her to fold her hands like a suppliant Grabbed a blade and cut off a lock of the girl’s hair Then pressed it against the doll’s head They were a mere oil pass away From falling into perfervid debauchery Before Lughanshesh a child would die, But he would not interfere ‘What noble parents bore you! What glorious moment brought you here in our city! What a blessed omen you are to us!’ Then the fateful draught of oil was cast And a veritable change to red did occur The girl was cold, her knees quivered She stifled a small cry. The crowd was silent and perhaps one interposed ‘It turned red.’ But the priestess took no note She had not seen the color change either And thus she validated her as a failed tribute She scowled ‘Perhaps you’re impure! The goddess has refused you! You cannot be Shonani, the one of the shell You cannot be Shoma-Kali, the one of Irkalla!’ In the child’s stead the effigy was cast onto the pyre A hum and haw of disappointment clouded the procession To Lughanshesh, it was all a drivel unworthy of ritual A sanctimonious priestess that lead a foolish cult of an entire city of fools A woman thrust herself out the mob Rushed to embrace the child and pulled her behind herself ‘Woman your daughter is impure Bring her to my chamber later I shall re-anoint her Have her checked for wanton conduct Bathed in oils yet again Only to cleanse her sins!’ The mother muttered ‘She is just a little girl!’ The priestess moved, and suddenly yelled, The entire mob was thrown into disarray Some ran for her aid but she exhibited violent seizures; Her body arched terribly Then she jittered and her irises were gone As if she were possessed The people moved back in fear ‘Has the goddess chosen her instead?’ A thick white film shrouded her eyes She moved close to a disconcerted Lughanshesh ‘Messenger, you have come! Why do you mix so callously with mortals of my empire?’ She was indeed possessed ‘Come Messenger, I will escort you to my abode Follow this priestess mine Give up your arms if you have any Or do you come in peace?’ ‘I come in peace!’ ‘Then let us not wait further Come let’s have a talk where it is fit to talk matters!’ Many a curious eyes stared at him And they remained transfixed with him till Lughanshesh was lead into a long winding tunnel Narrowly built and dimly lit But his path was lit further by the torch of the priestess Each moment he pondered whether she was possessed And when she turned to reveal the white eyes, it was evident ************ In the dark depths of Irkalla The three weavers of the loom Pale faced and dark eyed. Their dark tresses blacker than a starless night’s sky Ever morose at their knowledge of fey men Of their knowledge of the dooms of the past And the dooms present and to come They toiled to cut the thread of life As loners they sat, three together Silent and engaging only at times in sordid chatter When appointed times are issued an end They had no name for they needed none They wore the black gowns of death Their faces too, thinly veiled in black They sat before a vacant, endless well into which they tossed their curtailed threads

Picture3 The Three Sisters collect the thread of life ‘We spin and spin and spin Now we cut and cut and cut!’ They chanted together Then one of them with bone white fingers Grasped a bunch of strands from a pool of half finished yarns ‘Tis only the beginning ‘Tis only the beginning The heavenly bird has alighted As once in each timeline she is wont to do Upon her comfy shoulders Sits a newborn Jami well cushioned To be born again into the world for a brutal end But a plague it won’t be, no it won’t be Not a plague! Not a plague! Not a plague! A surge of mortals will soon await their fate at Irkalla’s doors It’s belly will not endure the vermin souls Of they who are soon to come SirMirai’s shadow has been cast upon fey Alakapur It’s wingspan coveted the entire city The immortal messenger, son of Babeel the Damned Heeded not the warning of he called T The one who brazenly flouts Aleph’s decrees Now the messenger and the queen engage in interlocution And we know with continuous flashes before our eyes Of eminent knowledge vested from divine source The many potential futures that await the end of their council But lo! As we know since advent of time Since creation became sentient and accountable for their deeds Be it man, be it immortal, all are known to choose The only fate lent to them by hubris Ah! So many yarns we toss away!’ *************** In a dreary tract Lughanshesh was left with No tree, no stone, no aught of existence A single structure however green and cuboidal Same from each view, stout and unwelcoming No door he found on any side The entire city from his first step onto the promontory Till his reaching of Daibah’s supposed home Had only served to disconcert him This cuboid executed deft illusion Then, Lughanshesh surmised, how great an illusionist would be its designer From above and from below In a singular patch the vehement clouds gyred Heaved the north winds, summoned the winds from the south Stirred the ocean in the city’s proximity and upheaved it’s tides high Two ramparts were formed All was dark, lightning flashed, occasional thunderclaps lighted the skies And shone behind the water walls to make visible The ravenous jaws of marine monsters, Swimming within it’s restricted space And within it’s space the water cascaded down in titanic falls Crashed onto rocks deep below and roused once again for a repeated act A pavement opened beneath the cuboidal home Pulled it downward then enclosed the ground in flames Lughanshesh was overtaken by a paroxysmal fear He took several steps back and fell The two water ramparts roared and collided towards the centre The winds; east and west, blowed profuse air into them Caused them to further whirl and gyrate The clouds mingled, the thunder and lightning mingled too Fervently mixed themselves into the concoction A cacophony of terrible sound; swishing winds, swift streaming ocean upheaved A blaring, jarring trumpet resounded Every atom shook with it’s great vibration A suckling whirlpool formed, all mighty, all powerful. Opened within their coiling, slithering mouth The four winds sought to enclose it’s dark, widening space But it would borrow from them no surcease of expanse It sucked the smoke and the flame, The rocks at the water’s bottom revolted, were but pulled in Several arrays of rising rocks were seen crashing past each other To be swallowed within the whirling jaws of wind and water Smoke rose, wind rose, and at the end Lughanshesh too was pulled in A formidable gust swept him up the ground where he lay couchant after his fall Took him in and into a winding path he was then taken Into a hasty passage, and about a torque he was rotated round and round If not the speed then perhaps the squeamishness would have caused his death He was gulped down an endless gullet Then a quick pause He found himself in suspension In a space of black, blue and speckled silver Then an emergence of a moving system, akin to an irregular arrangement of a lotus corolla A palpable loss of physicality overwhelmed him He felt a transient sense of death and misery Of being neither man nor murj A sheer paralysis of all the senses save sight and smell He could hear nothing, He could speak nothing He was then a mere speck of miniscule energy Found himself floating above a milky ocean Churned and thickening at the center An infantile memory effused from every passage of his thought A retrospective view of a distant, clouded vision The churning of the cosmic ocean His own father, Babeel, blue faced and ornately garbed, Youthful and stalwart seated kingly above a mountain top Babeel was revered in many form In many colors, by different people In different names and different epithets For once an auditory surge was opened And Lughanshesh could discern the audible chants ‘Aleph! Aleph! Aleph! And that was all Lughanshesh then heard Once again he was deafened And his olfactory sense was snatched too Perhaps to linger as a helpless, hapless cripple was his punishment. Despite of being deprived of chest and heart He felt it’s phantom thumping in manifest terror He sought it’s arms, he sought the Lugh He yearned to transform into a formidable being But never has fear cancelled fear Unlike power that can oppose power There roamed about him, of no perceptible form Oceanic waves of energy It moved about and caused ripples in a bed of stars then took a gradual form A mouth, then surmounted by a nose Then two sharp glimmers of light, lurid and unpleasant Akin to two yolks of a broken egg They stretched beyond his scope of view, yet he could see them both Under them appeared two curved clouds, partly broken Shape themselves under the nose, like lips There was no sound, none Yet he heard those lips speak He could not hear a single word uttered, yet he discerned every syllable ‘I expected your presence Messenger Murj You came for a dialogue with the queen of Alakapur And here she is One you dare to exist before You need not speak, for I have taken your tongue You need not hear, for I have taken your nose And you need not your limbs nor breast, for I have taken them from you You exist now as a tiny heart, because you need to fear I shall speak to you for you desired my company And you will speak as well, but I will imbibe from you the answers I require So Lughanshesh, what seek you from me?’ Rendered incapable of speech though he was, he spouted an honest reply He could not alter his words to suit the occasion For she governed all his faculties ‘I have been sent by the all father Babeel He who sits upon the golden throne of the Cosmic Sea And in his words, oh queen of mystical Alakapur I speak, “You the sole owner of the five seasons Your sheepfold will grow; that slaughter of one in my name will give you three Your cows will fatten and give abundant milk And your cellars will overflow with wine, the taste of Haoma stream, If you but accept my proposal Through some incantations, you’ve concealed your lovely city to immortal view I ask you to become willing and open it to us And welcome our worship in your city You will be granted all blessing as we have promised Solemn is my covenant And unbreakable my word!” The cosmos quivered with her infuriated gaze The Messenger’s fear redoubled At his diminutive form, her terrible gaze she darted Hot stars acquired luminescence, as when charcoal burns in fire She laughed an artificial laugh, with shrill bells of sarcasm ‘He calls me the sole owner of the five seasons, Is it not because he has no power to bring them on his own He claims to fatten my cows, when they have no more capacity for bulk Their milk; is already overflowing, And a great deal more delectable than your insipid Haoma And what of my sheepfold? By what magic will he give me three in place of one? I believe in neither excess, nor delusion, And your All father propagates both My land thrives because I allow it adequate rain. My people are gay because they derive pleasure in everyday simplicity. My country prospers because I have it secured from your vile view. As for welcoming your worship, Worship is for one who creates Were you yourself not created? Is your all-father not trying to imitate the fathomless fabric of life Whereas I created from nothingness The mountains, the flowing streams, the foliage, The night and the day on my own And if I may wish I can smite you now, this instant The small, helpless creature that you are But I require you to deliver my message Return to your master and inform him that your proposal stands rejected.’ When she was done, an instant fog clouded the face of Lughanshesh The ancient scene of churning ocean halted The same gyre that had pulled him in, formed to pull him out The stars and the planets entered too, Lughanshesh was sucked within When it was over, he stood outside the green cuboidal home There was no road of flame, no ramparts of water The clouds were inanimate as when he’d first arrived The smoky firmament hauled overhead His vision was clouded, Everything appeared blurred, as if he looked through a murky glass But standing before the cuboid, he discerned, a feminine figure Tall, dark and sinewy, fully clothed in white Lughanshesh surmised it was the queen When she took a step toward him, he took a step back Distanced himself from her, heard her chuckling ‘You witch of the East! They were right about you! What magic did you employ? Why can I not see clearly? Clear my vision! Clear my vision! Hearken me witch! Clear my vision!’ But she sniggered at his complaints When he aimed to transmute once again; For Lugh’s appearance he stretched out his arm, but the staff did not come His raven like body provided him with wings, aided him in flight But for now that form he could not assume She poised her hand in what Lughanshesh perceived was a pinch And indeed a snap he heard, as if she controlled his staff For it appeared in his hand, and he tapped it without delay Let go of the human form slowing him down The huge black wings spread out from his shoulders The mist above cleared to provide for him a passage He rose up high but looked down at her Though he could not discern her features, she was perfectly womanlike No vibes from her gave him the impression that she was perhaps from the Murj race Nor her vibes were one of complete mortal make She was perhaps, as he wondered, of another immortal kind Or perhaps a very cunning human knowledgeable in the arts of concealing herself from the Murj Lughanshesh flew, through the open passage from which issued the sunlight of the outside world It has started to close, but he flew out One feather of his grand wings was burnt What was it? How could fire burn? What sorcery? What tricks? Many a questions erupted in his mind, but he had yet to wait before scouring it for answers And he flew off to the celestial dimensions, To report the strange encounter with the very strange, Alakapuri queen. CHAPTER FOUR In the otherworldly cavern, sat the hoary one Part man, part woman Lamenting deeply the fate of the immortals many, And the mortal city Alakapur that became a fey town awaiting it’s ruinous end Once SirMirai’s ominous shadow targeted Alakapur The old one raised his arms to the sky Though Divine Decree he had long brushed off Yet in interlocution he engaged with the Divine Weavers His voice reached them through their abysmal well Employed for jettisoning the many yarns of the deceased and to die ‘Ah! Once again my words stand unheeded Once again I fail at my chances for redemption An erstwhile wager once won; To dare to save a fey land, I would reclaim that which I have long lost, A permanent, singular sex But none knows the future save Aleph and his Book supreme The great Book called Aleph’s Loh Oh Divine Weavers, sisters three of fate Read from my allotted portion of the Book, if you can What awaits this tragic wanderer, neither she nor he?

Picture 4 The Sisters speak with Tiresias. Perhaps a second pair of wanton snakes to come my way? Undo the olden curse, become man once again? Or am I to just wander eternally with no hopes of future espousal?’ A cloud opened above him And below the Weaver’s well ‘Ah T ! Mercy infinite Aleph bestows You shall have your chance again, And this time they shall come in abundance So seize the moment when it presents itself, and until then do not complain Mend your ways, for we do not converse with those treading the unholy path!’ Twice, Jami of semi mortal birth had been killed! Once as a babe in his cot by brutal titans; They had charged into his holy home, Slaughtered the KhidrunNisa, the tree maidens employed in the gardens for his protection They were helpless in their own protection, forced by limbs fixed to tree stems to stay in their position The KhidrunNisa had surmised the terrible ruin of the titans, a ruin that would follow Jami’s death. But the Titans single-minded in their endeavor, hearkened not their words,

Picture 5 The Cherubs bring down the Sisters' message to Tiresias And proceeded to kill the emanated sons of Babeel, Who had been guarding Jami’s cradle! The second death of Jami came as a youthful teen; under the tutelage of Ishnan His second birth had come in the artificial womb of the unholy Serpent Nak The serpent yet another emanation of Babeel; Into which the salvaged heart of Jami from the earlier ravage had been implanted Though Jami died, his heart never ceased to beat And the very heart had been implanted as a seed within Babeel’s snake pet The first cruel slaying had shattered Babeel the Damned Which he took as retribution for vying to succeed Aleph’s might; The murj father had resorted to renaming himself Alephthur . His natural make, despite a consort, disallowed him from conceiving Yet as a surprise, through his artful devices {Which he’d used to ensnare an oblivious human maiden} Had resulted in the comely and white skinned babe And curiously, of wholly mortal make And in his cradle had been uttered (As a single stifled squeal), the word Jami. Thus the babe received the name Jami Later adorned with various epithets; The twice Born Jami, The Courser of Heaven and Hell Jami , The Giver of abundance, The Giver of male beauty, The Giver of wine, of fruit, of foliage, The Guide of the dead, The Director of the living, Prophet of Aleph, And many a names more, which the expanse of this singular book cannot speak! A second time, within a dark web of woods, By a wild animal, he had been trampled; The slayer to this day, stays an enigma A later people claimed it was some envious half-brother murj in animal disguise Envious either of Jami having won Ishnan, or perhaps envious of Jami’s curious mortal birth Or perhaps a son of Babeel vying for his attention (as most of his sons were wont to do) Many claimed Jami brought it upon himself! Prior to his brutal death, he had written a document extant Recorded his life and death on a sacred stone, And by mystical orisons had it buried deep within the heart of the mountainous North Alakapur And since his two births, his twice nurturing and two deaths had been engendered upon Alakapur’s cold plains Thus it was there where lachrymose Ishnan travelled With the bleeding heart hard pressed against her chest Barefooted, wrapt in a single piece of thin, white cloth Treaded the dismal path that lead to Irkalla’s abode Unaware of which mountain pediment or mountain top opened into its doorway Or whether in the depths of the ocean, Or whether in a deep tracts of the forest, Whether it opened at all, a path where Jami’s awakened soul stayed A year she had walked, or perhaps more A nascent party of humans, who then saw her lonely trudge Or learnt oral traditions passed down to posterity, Imputed to her the loss of fertile lands, the lack of rain, the paucity of children and many more ‘A year though she wept, her wailing resounded in every atom of the city Snow capped peaks melted into the river And pelted mud to inundate her pool of tears No man wedded a woman that year, And they who did could not conceive Animals populous on land, fell weakened to her spell; Men were impotent, fecund women could not breed Those of the sea never neared the shore, And disappeared into the darkness of the deep No corn bore ears, no field sprouted rice No leaven raised the dough and wine cellars were dried The fattened cows were emaciated for no grass suckled the minerals of the soil And no animal gnawed at the dead leaves The earth was dying a slow death, but she did not cease her grief’ And in such words the mortals remembered her misery For once Ishnan, flouter of Aleph, in utter despair, Finally stretched her arms out to Heaven Looked on at the freezing navy blue sky serrated with icy mountain tops And with profuse weeping and choking voice Addressed Aleph on high, No murj, no malaika , none could calm her miserable heart Which pined for her dear, darling, young Jami , A skin which drew it’s freshness from watered foliage in spring His breast which stole it’s warmth from summer’s dew But killed each time in harsh winters! Though winning every murj, both on land and in the seas, Even the many mortals she did not heed, But could not win she against the clasps of cold death; When death would loom above his head, and with it’s terrible fingers shivered his countenance And when he set out for that cruel forest, she heeded not the ominous chilled fog that formed around him an aureole on a sunny day Nor when he left, the dark cloud treading above him ‘Oh why? Why did he deviate from his path in playful youth? Why did his good judgment not keep him from his sportive mood?’ Then looking up at the skies once again ‘Alas! I am wont to rap at your door when nothing else avails me! A living heart I have kept secure from further ravage. Though the flesh frame I have buried deep within holy soil Ah! He won’t awaken. And no artful imprecation would return him to me Save the intercession of one who gives life, and lends it surcease He won’t awaken! He won’t awaken! From clasps of immortal death he cannot borrow mortal life Not even for I, thus here I stand! My feet bleed and I have streaked the paths that lead to you, With blood both mine and his Such that flowers that nurture upon that melancholic dew, will receive; A mortal soul from Jami’s end And an ever living frame from mine! A gift I give to nature so none will depart this world, and leave behind mourning mates Them I will have as offspring of us both, which while Jami lived I could not have Tis such cruelty oh Aleph! Bestower of gifts! Tis such cruelty, please grant me this gift, To have with you one intimate dialogue Without ramparts to veil you from my poor eyes! Nor to veil the form of Jami still alive beside your throne! Allow me this one thing, Embrace my apologies, which I have so long tarried! Open your doors, though you reside in heaven, your gateways open everywhere! Let me in! Let me in! Let me not be a traveller in vain Nor a rapper who returned from your threshold, empty handed!’ When her words ended, the sky parted, Issued forth from between two sheets of bright blue, a murky red color It spread about and an effulgent beam protruded And touched the ground where she stood The light turned black, and like collyrium that is applied to the eyes Her eyes were widened to the might and glory of Aleph The door equal in stature to the tallest mount, opened to allow her entry With quivering limbs and faint heart she entered Unlike the murj who had been created from fire Ishnan possessed a composition unique, owing to her progenitor the Daab, A being created from an uncommon mold Ishnan could traverse into the first few tiers of Irkalla Where, though fire hurt her, she quickly healed And she continued to venture deep; Through the endless streams of fast flowing burning waters, Past the terrible harpies, the morbid voiced sirens and galla demons Through various doors, at each point where she shed a piece of jewelry Then she entered a draughty chamber Dark with steam still condensing upon icy stalactites There was a huge stone with none upon its stony frame Or perhaps invisible, perhaps veiled from all living eyes Indeed, she knew that all encompassing presence, greater than any seat could hold Aye! Aleph sat upon it! ‘You requested council and a council you have been granted Your pleas have been accepted and your sins have been forgiven Segregate yourself from unholy company, one that inveighs at me each moment And your cleansed palate will not deliver retribution as your sins certainly will Now speak, that which you wish to speak, for an intimate dialogue you have been allowed Speak, but know this from the outset, The dead shall remain dead however many hapless tears you shed I grant eternal life to whomever I please And I take it away from whomever I please A twice cycle of birth I granted to your dearest Jami, owing to a certain wisdom For behind each ruling of Mine, is wisdom endless’ ‘I do not come to plead for life, For I have knowledge enough to discern the priggishness of such a plea But I bring this still beating heart Whose every thump engenders my sorrows increase It taunts me with its cruel prating, convinces me to beg for him a third life Yet I do not, so now I come to grant myself some ease of heart I come not as a suppliant but as one to lodge complaint I embrace you as one who creates, as one who gives and takes away Thus to you I aim this banter, teeming my saddened mind I saw him a wailing infant, nurtured him to beauteous youth

Picture 6 Jami's funeral procession. Ishnan looks at Jami's pyre while the Cherubs and the Sirens grieve. Allowed him to suckle on the teats of Kamadhenu Till grew his delicate limbs to boyish frame And in him I saw, the only companion of my solemn days and a consort of equal grace; Much like I was he, fair naturally of form and skin, light eyed and handsome And though I much desired, let not my olden charms consummate his innocent mind Ah! Sweet as he was, well aware of passions that inflamed me He told me to wait till he was of age, as if he held me back Told me to wait till the first bunch of downy hair shone on his chin But you took him away, and snatched his life a second time Each time in an impetuous carnage Much lighter would have been the brunt of loss for I Had I buried him in the clay from whence he formed In the form that I desired, and not the mound of torn flesh and pooling blood In your dominion, blame cannot be put on evil eye of lesser being Ah! Once again I give in to the persuasion of my foolish mind I implore thee oh Aleph! I implore thee for the life of Jami! To grant the boy to blossom to manhood And embrace all that which he could not whilst still alive Lest it be your will, that you plunge him in the pits of terrible pain a third time! Then nay! Keep him! Keep him forever! For better is he among the dead than among the damned But aye! Do grant me a surcease of pain, if such is possible at all!’ ‘What is not possible for I? Come hither woman, and I shall grant you this perpetual boon! A reward for your penitent trudge to Irkalla I grant you this!’ From a gyre above the throne, flew about a streak of illumined motes They showered themselves upon Ishnan, adhered to her and then were absorbed ‘I grant you the gift of patience infinite That throbbing which you found unable to suppress And the stoppage of another’s beating heart Which you carry outside your chest!’ The heart was stopped, the bleeding ceased and a mystical jar she was allotted Placed the organ within then stoppered it ‘Why do I not see him here? Where does Jami stay?’ ‘Irkalla is the gateway to all dead but tis the abode for sinners You can calm yourself with this knowledge, He stands amidst the rows of blessed beings In blossoming asphodel meadows, where there is no pain, only peace Where there will be no death and arousal, but immortal life Vie for it, vie in this life for those fields So after I have wrapt this Universe, you shall greet him once again in those fields’ ‘I leave this jar in your abode Great One To do with it as you wish, I cannot keep it. I leave with a vow, of complete segregration from Babeel’s clan There is no point in colluding with that lot anymore But I cannot dispossess myself from mortal disdain So what they continue to conspire in my name, or his The rituals and the vague hymns and doctrines I cannot hinder nor control’ ‘It’s not upto you, leave now this wretched abode Go out into the world and live the years that you are bound to live!’ Ishnan did not move but was teleported outside Irkalla The gateway to hell closed and she stood pondering the fate of the heart she left behind The three sages caught between the realms of Irkalla and Heaven, Discerned thoughtfully the events that conspired. The oldest of them then spoke ‘The immortals in their hubris excessive, See not their own failures. Ah! Foolish mortals continue their foolish worship! Their love of lowly creatures is endless. Lo! Here I sit, composing the lines of the battle soon to come. We wait! We wait! But who do we wait for? The Malaika bring us no news! Where is he? Where is the young Bringer of Foliage? Has he gone down to hellish shores? Will he return to bring us news of one to come soon? He carries about that curious coffer of gold. Never undoes the lid, never allows us its view! It’s a gift he says, a gift divine, But neither for him, nor for us, but for one to come! But who is to come? Who is to come?’ The second sage, a younger lad Fervently scribbled on a parchment on his lap ‘Be not so restless old one, when he shall come, we will know. He is a being of beauty great and a duty greater, But the acceptance of the task involves sacrifice supreme, Of both life and integrity- he shall descend Write for us the immortal twilight , though the outcome we do not know How will it be? This twilight we speak of? Will the end of Babeel come by a howling gust, a terrible wolfish howl? Will mankind survive what is to come? Or will none of them remain? How grand will this battle be, who is to know? Ah! We cannot wait for being born into the human world, But our time has yet to come, centuries, perhaps a millennia of watching history unfold.’ Then the youngest one of them, ensconced in peace, least worried Addressed both the older ones ‘Have no care of what’s to come or what has gone. Care not for the fate of they who do us no good. Worry, but for yourselves, for your Divine Accountability, How are you to depict the account of what you shall see soon? Will you do your Lord justice? Or will you conspire to eulogize yourselves before the eyes of man? Will you serve as His emissary? Or will you further deify the ones we look down upon? Alas! As I’d thought! Such qualms you never courted. Spend each moment till your birth time, as penitent ones! Seek recompense for the sins you have yet to commit, For no mortal lives with an immaculate record. Ever have you wondered of the four of us, why such love is endued only upon Akhdar Masih? Why not you or I? Perhaps we shan’t do as we are ought to when we descend, And perhaps Akhdar Masih best performs his mortal task, Even now the gifted coffer of gold he holds (given only to him) Between the worlds of living and dead he serves as an intermediary, Goes from the pinnacle of passable heaven, down to hellish shores, Receives love and reverence from his mortal abode, Then crosses realms to receive even more from Aleph. His is the gilded ship, his the silver oar, his the brocaded mast and the lavish sails!’ ‘Ah why do you arouse our envy youngest one? Truly I have felt that but such is the wisdom of our Lord. Ah! Indeed you be right, we ought to check ourselves, And worry little of the sinners who presently conspire!’ CHAPTER 5 Between two close knit mountains prodigious Covered entirely with long blue strands of hair Babeel lived, isolated from his Murj brethren who he emanated from within himself Often he repaired to weeping from sunrise through sunset Oft he travelled upon the oceans Concealed to mortal view as immortals naturally are Blue visage, blue eyed, and when he smiled which he rarely did, terrible fangs showed. Lughanshesh in his raven form still adorned since his cowardly flight from Alakapur Alighted on one mountain top, above a thick collection of Babeel’s blue strands. ‘Father, I have come with news!’ Babeel swiftly assumed a diminutive form and stood before his messenger son, Gloomy, face still streaked with tears ‘Tell me Lughanshesh, what response did my message receive?’ And the entire dialogue, well imprinted on the messenger’s mind was uttered, word for word before the murj king, In its pristine, unaltered form But when the message had been delivered, slighted Lughanshesh added the details of his encounter Of how he was trapped in an illusion Of the queen’s prowess upon magic Of the strange worships her people practiced Of her own deification and self eulogizing All the details which served to enrage Babeel twofold. ‘Such rancorous disregard for those above her! How utterly shameful! Now I shall smite her! If she can cast illusions then I will give them physicality And lo! How delusional she is! Claims to have created the rivers and the mountains and the foliage! How utterly foolish! And you listened to her prating.’ He darted a terrible gaze at his son. ‘I was rendered incompetent to her spell father! I apologize but I was unable to do anything lest she wished it! She had my tongue tied My hearing snatched My mobility ceased And played before my eyes a scene of the days of my infancy The time when you still served under Aleph! A scene of the primeval churning of the Cosmic Ocean Beauteous Rukmini held me tight, close to her chest The delectable ocean draught I could sense, though I am sure I did not taste it! Her people…one language they utter in dialects varied I learned her name, Daibah! I discerned much from their inflection She came as Daibah but some called her Tayapi Some who toiled much with the enunciation of her name; To honor her and to not utter it incorrectly, fearful of her wrath Called her Typhe for ease. They worshipped Ishnan as the goddess great Set young girls as tributes for her, devices for her to possess They revered her in several names like you desire from your own followers. They called that witch Daibah, Shonani- she who came from the water. They called her Shomakali- she who travelled to hellish abode They called her Makali- the dark goddess of wrath They called her simply as Ma- the mother of Jami, And lo! They worshipped greatly, your darling Jami Who they allotted epithets numbering hundreds Jami they believed as one who never reached adulthood As one poor soul belabored by fate A poor, suffering, young deity of both abundance and plague Perhaps the tribute who clutched the salubrious mistletoe To be cast upon Ishnan’s pyre was for Jami too!’ Upon the mention of Jami’s name, Babeel’s lips quivered And his crying ceased as he fell down on his knees Despairing the fate on his only mortal son ‘Ah, why do you refresh my wounds with that name? Why do you rankle my heart by bringing to mind that young face? Retribution it is, no calm has come to me since his passing Nay! No calm has come to me since his birth For his mortal nature caused me anxiety And I sought to protect him during his life Now I seek to awaken him from death! I compress myself between two mountains Toiling to constrict my chest so the heart within does not expand during its throbbing But all efforts, in vain But that is a matter for another day! For now, I cannot let two matters press against my mind. For now I shall solely concern myself with that blaspheming queen! The wine cellars, the sheepfold, the bulky cows The seasons, the abundance, the milk All that she gloats about I shall give her one thunder bolt and take away it all! Turn it all to dust, upon its charnel dust she will weep bitterly. I shan’t have more blasphemers. The commodious realm of the murj where all the murj stayed Babeel caused it to wrinkle and fold. He convened all the murj of his universe, all of the various emanations of his traits There was Makara, who the people believed brought death There was Mabu, who the people believed imparted knowledge There was Markyll, who the people believed was the dweller of the woodlands And there were the many unnamed ones Who would soon acquire names when generations later the sages have their earthly descent All collected before their father, Hoary and blue, red eyed in anger ‘Come together children mine, for the sake of the weapon I seek to construct. Come together to obliterate a disbelieving witch. She is evil for she believes us not She is a fool for she heeds not our warnings. She is impious for she invites our wrath and deifies herself Such a sore should be excoriated A passage from history to be expurgated!’ And they all nodded. Came together within the cosmos Combined themselves independent of Babeel, to make the great weapon Lughanshesh flew distant and did not become the part of the process He watched his siblings construct a weapon of formidable and universal energy Though its powers had diminished since his fall from heaven Yet he conjured however much there remained and aimed it at the heart of Daibah’s city Charged the weapon, then hurled it. It went through the vacuum, faster than light Crossing the many realms of the immortals, entered the mortal stratosphere Tore through the many sheets of air and wind. With a sudden shock, the mist about Alakapur expanded As the weapon gained momentum, it became luminescent. The clouds collected about it, the four winds too and stirred about. As it reached the bottom the water rose up And the dust from the earth had entered it. It was a blazing sandstorm reaching Alakapur. It went. It charged. It expanded. But it did not explode! Entirely absorbed by the mist above the city’s surface The immortals were appalled! What had occurred? Why had it not worked? They watched the mist then bubble and regurigitate A great boil erupted out of its amorphous frame Then it scintillated in places and sparks flew out. The mist then was pushed inwards, like a puckered orifice. Though the mist had spread far and wide, people all over worshipped the murj in varied names They stared, frightened by the form the skies had taken And the winds and the clouds set alight by the speed. Within ominous thunderclaps they saw flashes of Babeel in his terrible form Would such a portentous moment signal the end of earth As helpless as they felt, they genuflected and prayed in their shrines To appease with penitence whichever god brought such terror. 'Oh lord BabulONak Oh lord who created us from a mere speck Let this not be the day you reduce us to a speck again! You who are the father of the once born and the twice born. You who are eternal who is everything and who is in everything. Great BabulONak, we are your children too so have mercy!' But never have invocations addressed to Babeel reached him. They are whispers unheard lost with the wind. They are plaintive cries issued to ears which do not exist. And as for Babeel, he was single-minded in his destruction of Alakapur. Nowhere could he see that projectile which he hurled with tremendous power, perhaps hurled with every iota of energy he could conjure. It was absorbed and nothing.... The immortals were appalled. 'What happened! Where did it disappear! Where is the beautiful view of that blasphemer's destruction. I want to watch her turn to stone while her insides melt and she is mute to express the pain. Ah! Is that woman a sorceress? Where did she bring that mist from?' Where is the sound of gas exploding the tracts of land? Where are the blasts of fire, the explosions? And what of the upheaval of the entire ocean? Where is the glorious scene which long ago I once saw and engineered?' 'Look father?' Lughanshesh pointed toward the city. The mist which had sucked itself inward then became a rod like projection And what came out of it's orifice was the unlit, inglorious and lacklustre projectile of Babeel. And with a similar energy it was hurled toward the immortals. Like poltroons every member of the clan of Babeel escaped their king's proximity Although through some magical force he inactivated the weapon. When the immortals fled to their own realm, they convened and discussed what had conspired. 'How could she have reduced the weapon's power? What tricks has she enclosed within that rampart of thick fog? Allows only mortals to pass and filters out the murj.' Then Bolund accosted his messenger son. 'How had you entered it if it is impervious to us?' And Lughanshesh replied 'She expected me and therefore must have cleared a path for me!' And Lughanshesh recalled the old stranger who had warned him But this information Lughanshesh kept to himself. 'I told you did I not? She practices some vile magic. So powerful, such lucid illusions she performs on others! Could she be an immortal too? One who seeks to establish her own kingdom with her own set of followers?' But Babeel was to listen to such rambling no longer And without the aid of his many children frightened He himself once again prepared the projectile to be hurled upon the wretched city a second time. Once again the clouds were summoned Once again the winds steered them Once again all his energy Babeel channelled into the weapon in his hand And once again with tremendous force he flung the projectile toward Alakapur. Anxiously he awaited doom and destruction The clouds rising up with smoke The winds scattering the fragrance of death which Babeel found so delectable. But nothing happened. Nothing at all! 'She has me wondering, the composition of this curious mist!' There was the sound of dragging, Of wheeling behind the father and son The crippled blacksmith, Bolund had arrived With Babeel's long estranged mate Nunma. Babeel who had never been fond of Bolund said 'What brings you here son mine? And Nunma, it has been long, Why do you come?' And the ancient queen and wife of Babeel The first to accompany him in his exile. 'We have both watched your ignominy, Alas! The great Babeel has finally met his foe! One of equal strength or perhaps more. How many games does the Great One play, to cause your repeated shame. Now what games will you play oh Babeel? When your most severe weapon works no more.' 'Silence Nunma!' 'How many tongues will you catch? How many minds will you turn to froth As so often you are wont to do!' 'Hush! Hush! None shall speak of Babeel's shame! Halt! None shall think of his ignominy either.' 'You can think and conspire to no end but the truth remains, You hurled upon her the only weapon you have and it has been rendered useless By she who rules in mortal realm. Now what will you do?' After Nunma's speech, crippled Lughanshesh interposed 'Mother mine and father mine Fight no more amidst yourselves for that is what the enemy wants, For you to wrangle and brew within the immortals great discord! But this is the time which requires that we strengthen ourselves with unity. And father! Great father Babeel! The king of all the muarij. Father, you wonder about this mist do you not? Well I believe I might have found an answer to your curiosity. Check Lughanshesh's wing father. Check how he shivers with nervousness!' And Lughanshesh was slighted and appalled for Bolund's careful eye had noticed The singular feather of his wing which had suffered a burn 'See father, that feather at the end of his left wing Burned to an ash and lingers only partly. We who have been made of fire will burn if we are to contact this fog surrounding her city. That would imply only one thing. By some sorcery she has conjured the smoke of Irkalla and uses it to protect her people, or herself. And she has transformed it such that it does not harm humans. One would wonder, father mine, that it must be smoke borrowed from a region in hell Where at the End of Time, immortals are meant to burn!' And there was a furore amidst all who were present. Babeel, Lughanshesh, Nunma and a few sons of the king who eavesdropped. 'How can this be? None can go to that region! Absolutely no one! I have only ever once gone and spoken with the ferryman near the Avernus gates. None can penetrate that realm to even the second tier! Impossible! Impossible! You speak wrong Bolund!' 'Nay father! Do you not know of Ishnan Who ventured deeper into Irkalla than any other creature She alone could withstand the tremendous heat! And we all know it was not out of mere love that she was able to. She went in there because she could survive in there And she escaped unscathed. She is the spawn of the Ancient Adversary the Daab! And this queen might be too. She might have abilities which surpass those of Ishnan's. It is a conjecture but one I believe close to the truth, Her name too cannot be spoken without uttering the full of that monster Daab! Daibah, yes, and the myths surrounding her speak of her emergence from the waters. Like unto Ishnan is she, and associated with her too.' Then Lughanshesh stepped forward. 'You speak with eloquence smith, as you always do. Yet we cannot surmise about everything And make flesh the character of her which we've come to know from mere tales. At best she is a powerful witch. A seeress perhaps and nothing more!' 'Nothing more brother?' Bolund said! 'Nothing more? Would you be out of your mind? She has neutralized the weapon which once destroyed entire species on earth. Do you think she is nothing more than a witch and a seeress? Indeed she is that and more. Perhaps more than we can comprehend. However we can fight and we can argue over her abilities and what she has done Or we can make haste and act against her Before she acts against her and expands her colony of blasphemers.' 'And how do we do that?' Babeel said. 'Of course father since I am here I have naturally come with a plan. But it is a plan which requires cooperation of our entire species. But bear in mind that this plan too is a plan based on a theory. I believe that her strength lies in keeping us at a distance. Neither does she engage with us nor does she allow us to interfere in her business. She has created a veil between us and herself but I do not believe she can overpower us if she were outnumbered.. That being said we still cannot go in!' 'Make sense Bolund! Not all of us can grasp your jargon!' Babeel said 'Yes father, I am getting there. What I am saying is, We can devise something which can both penetrate the barrier she has established And also overpower her with all our abilities. I believe if we were to make a mortal man endowed with all our abilities then...' 'Silence!' Babeel bellowed! 'I knew you must have come up with some nonsensical plan. Cunning smith! I know you scheme to put together all the muarij in one container As once you tried to do. Now you believe with this you can make flesh that idea. Have you no other task but to scheme against your own kin?' And Bolund was appalled and interposed but was rebuffed aggressively. ‘Father trust me! I have always only sought the prosperity of my kin!’ ‘Do you think that I do not know you connive with the relatives on your mother’s side? Babeel’s said Do you think I am unaware of what you do behind my back?’ ‘Father that was just the one time! Because we had no choice and I required that council! They alone could help me prepare the ropes which helped us bind the Ancient Adversary!’ ‘Silence! All of you are dismissed! Leave my abode and go to your own! I alone will come up with a solution to this!’ And all returned from whence they’d come. Babeel set himself between the mountains once more Pondering how to overcome the queen of Alakapur! There were two brothers of a curious make. Amorphous and evil, who sought to brew discord wherever they could And they colluded with the Muarij to bring about the doom of men And whispered evil into the hearts of men to cause them misery. They dwelled in Irkalla and went down to Babeel Har and Mar travelled to the Murj king Conniving with each other to lure into a mischievous trap, He whose own task is to entrap others. And they whispered evil council into his ears and cajoled him into accepting the offer of his smith son. 'Be not so slighted by the favor your son extends to you o Babeel. We of all creatures would know what would do you good for now. You have been affronted by that wicked queen. Her disregard for the immortal clan is foolish indeed, and she takes a stance against you. Therefore take a stance against her. Equally strong or perhaps stronger! Foolish is the one who fails to admit his weakness For that alone contributes to one’s downfall. Nay! You do not want to be one of those fools. So accept. Accept the offer of your son and allow him to make a weapon One to which every sentient creature of the universe is susceptible. A weapon to incite love. And when that queen has become ensnared in a love trap of the immortals, Imagine what kind of putty she would be in your hands Malleable, to mold in any shape you please. She would give in. Indeed Murj king she would give in And no one shall come to stop you!' And their councils had a great effect on Babeel for instantly he summoned Lughanshesh, Dismissed Har and Mar and instructed his messenger son to deliver news to Bolund 'Tell him that his father approves of his scheme. Do not disappoint me! For we are relying greatly on this artificial emissary he seeks to construct! Make sure in this plan Bolund does not falter. Make sure in this plan, Bolund is not as lame of artistry as he is of body!' Lughanshesh quit his father's company to seek the company of his brother. Bolund was thrilled to learn his scheme has been approved And he began quickly to work upon his new toy. Whilst he worked, flashes of the old dream became vivid before his eyes But he continued to dismiss them for the longest time as vague fancies. Yet when those flashes frequented his mind a bit too much He was wont to consider them as one of certain consequence. 'What if the angel in my dream was an angel true? Have I been chosen to perform a task of certain heavenly merit? How can one whose come forth from the loins of the Universally Damned, of the Eternally Cursed be worthy of appointment for any duty from Great Aleph? Is the one I am about to make going to be a one of great stature? Ah! Aleph plans and Aleph plans flawlessly, So as in dream I was instructed to create him In life by father I have been instructed the same. Therefore making such a one will not be an act of sin. Since both father and Aleph desire of me the same, I shan't be slighting either And with time things will reveal themselves as everything with time is wont to do!' BOOK TWO (Babeel’s odyssey) CHAPTER ONE Lo! How Mighty Aleph, All Powerful, All Merciful, Established the then mightiest of the Muarij, The conniving Babeel as His emissary amongst the Murj kind. How great was the duty, granted to Babeel! Granted to him superior birth then later armed him with the strongest weapon, Which the Supreme Aleph fashioned Himself of a composition most unique. When the Muarij many races had been established upon earth, And when Babeel had established himself as the most subservient of that lot; He was granted intimate dialogue in the highest Heaven with Aleph. To him the Malaika’s group came, bright winged and formidably fashioned, And allowed him passage past all sealed Heaven’s doors. Although none knows of what dialogue happened between Babeel and the Most High, Babeel earned a lofty position, As the constant companion of the Malaika, And after that council, he alone of the Muarij received plumed pinions on his shoulders, A burnished, bronze staff akin to a mace, And a two horned helm of effulgent glow. There were three beings of light, but not Malaika, Sentient and female like, unlike their sexless kin Residing then on different and distant levels of Heaven and never having met. Of all the beings made from Divine Light, they alone did not possess wings, And unlike all the beings fashioned from Divine Light, they alone were not garbed in garments of light. These three sisters, unaware of their familial ties, On Heaven’s expansive rainbow bridge [which formed an invisible conduit between heaven and earth], Which the Malaika employed for their earthly descent, Sat spinning vacuously for they had a great propensity for spinning. They set up individual looms, took their yarn, tied it on the spindle, And weaved and weaved and weaved. They each sang a song to Aleph ‘My fingers bring forth such ravishing depictions, Images flash fast before my eyes, And I transcribe these images without careful thought. What do these images mean Oh Aleph? What do they mean?’ They sang seeking council for themselves. They saw their brethren, the many Malaika, Flying about the firmament of Heaven. The Cherubim adorning loin cloths of light often came to watch them, spinning and weaving. Deftly working with their equipments, They made tapestries depicting strange events. The Malaika that travelled from distant regions of Heaven to check their craft, Were always in awe of their superior craft but equally amused at their subject. The eldest of those three whose dark tresses were streaked with tints of gray, Depicted upright beings, smaller in stature than both the Murj and the Malaika, And doubly handsome. Later did the Malaika learn that Wyrd [her name] had foretold the coming of man! The second born of the three, Skuld, Often depicted the classes of the Malaika. She depicted the superior ones who dwelled in the top most tier of Heaven And the ones that dwelled at the lowest, All united in the worldly descent. When the Malaika had seen that tapestry they were appalled, For those of the highest heaven never mingled with the others, Made for receiving messages directly from Aleph. Depicting the Malaika freely mingling was great blasphemy. But later they realized her ability for foresight, For she had foretold the establishment of the Angels Classes. The youngest and the third, Verdandi, Depicted gloomy events in abysmal forms. But she employed greatly for her tapestries the black thread and the gold. All her tapestries involved grim wars, deaths and diseases, Which she was wont to bedazzle with her golden thread. Neither death nor disease ever plagued either the Muarij or the Malaika, But later it was learnt that both would plague the new society that was soon to come. To them Babeel went and mightily poised himself. Stalwart and tall, emitting great Holy energy, Ram horned and expansive winged, Fiery and seething with ambition. He owned a staff much like the Lugh but not the same. Before Wyrd he came, stopped her loom and seized her distaff, then spoke to her ‘Great Wyrd of fortune telling prowess, You who depicts the birth of babe and its status in society, You have been appointed for a task most unique. Long on this bridge you’ve tarried and pondered long your wingless bod, But what you are to do requires no wings but craft great. So come and position yourself about the Well of Fate, Into which you shall toss the yarns of creatures dead. And you will spin as you do now, And your tapestries will be bound in the section of birth in the Great Book, And your handsome depictions all the Malaika will peruse!’ Then Wyrd checking his fiery make and realizing his alien form, One of earthly beings he was and not of Heaven’s region. She addressed him in a manner most astute ‘Oh Babeel, for that is your name, You come to me, lofty statured and prideful of your standing, Many a names I read in your future, Epithets both good and bad, But I see great battles too and miseries endless!’ Babeel, then much overwhelmed by Aleph’s great favors on him, Heeded not Wyrd’s words and took her to the Well. Then before Skuld he came, with equal might and grace. Before that beauteous maiden of auburn hair and golden skin, His lavish wings he fluttered. To her Babeel said ‘You who knows and writes each creatures workings in life, From the smallest vocation to the most supreme of feats, You who depicts a million events on one piece You have been appointed for a task most unique. Long on this bridge you’ve tarried and pondered long your wingless bod, But what you are to do requires no wings but craft great. So come and position yourself about the Well of Fate, Into which you shall toss the yarns of creatures dead. And you will spin as you do now, And your tapestries will be bound in the section of life in the Great Book, And your handsome depictions all the Malaika will peruse!’ Then Skuld seeing Babeel’s arrogant countenance and flight from Earth to Heaven, Discerned how he heightened his already high stature, With asceticism in which he took great pride. She addressed him in a manner most astute ‘Oh Alephthur, For that is the name you shall acquire soon. I know well why you engage in heavenly dealings and why you mingle with the Malaika, I see great feats in your life, Feats both good and bad, But what I see also and atarrying, Is depravity great and shallow pride!’ But babeel heeded not the words of Skuld and took her to the Well of Fate. Then before Verdandi he came, And next to her he appeared ever mightier, For she was young and then quite small statured, And was overshadowed by the strong built Babeel. Babeel spoke to her ‘Young Verdandi with great prowess for dismal depiction, Yet who sees beauty in life’s tragedies. You who depicts an end to life when it has yet to be ordained, You have been appointed for a task most unique. Long on this bridge you’ve tarried and pondered long your wingless bod, But what you are to do requires no wings but craft great. So come and position yourself about the Well of Fate, Into which you shall toss the yarns of creatures dead. And you will spin as you do now, And your tapestries will be bound in the section of death in the Great Book, And your handsome depictions all the Malaika will peruse!’ Verdandi did not respond for she was mute and it was all for the best, Had she spoken of his end and the consequences that would engender it, Babeel would have earlier rebelled, But when Verdandi spake not of his end Babeel unaware of her impairment, Thought that like all current Murj kind, he too shall never die. And not even Babeel was allowed to see their tapestries, For it was a sight reserved only for the select Malaika at ordained times. To the proudy Babeel the entire chore was frivolous. He deemed the three sisters worthless and though he voiced it not, In his heart he greatly questioned Aleph’s employment of the three. Upon the Well the sisters reunited and wept joyous tears and embraced and kissed. They dwelled therein in a solitary realm,

Picture 9 The Sisters allotted their place before the Well. Away from prying eyes of any creature either in Heaven or on Earth. A massive well it was of utter blackness. They checked its depth by speaking into it and their voices vanished instantly. It did not resound nor echo. Then in Babeel’s presence Aleph spoke to the three, ‘You three now work upon your looms in solitude as you had desired; Amidst each other’s company, Envy free of those I blessed with skill for flight. Your task is noble and your tapestries will fill the Great Book. None shall read of it till the depictions have been bound as leaves within the Book. From this rent in the clouds we shall provide you with an inexhaustible supply of yarn, And with it you will draw the birth, the workings and the end of all creation!’ Then Babeel of golden horns and brazen staff was told to take leave, But in his great curiosity he tarried long enough to watch the issuance of the tapestries, The Weavers had already worked on. The Cherubim, chubby and gleeful with swift wings, Four clutching at each corner of the Tapestry, Descended from the cleft in the clouds to the Weavers. He watched the one issued to the eldest, Wyrd; He looked at its intricate stitching, and the creatures depicted; man, Slender waisted, sinewy, thoughtfully fashioned with delicate features. Babeel’s curiosity was more aroused, And he proceeded to tarry longer, half filled with fear at delaying Aleph’s Order! He watched then another region of the Cherubim descend for Skuld, And he read those tapestries being brought down and learnt of a battle soon to inspire. He saw one being in myriad forms- and instantly felt that it was none but himself, That in this battle he was to play a formidable part. The Malaika came and went with such speed that Babeel could not wholly understand the tapestries. Then came the workings of young Verdandi, But the Malaika lingered at the top of the firmament awaiting Babeel’s leave. They tarried long and so did he but none moved. Yet again an order was issued to him from Up High, In a style firm and true ‘Why do you linger Babeel, when you have been told to leave? Leave for you have done your task and you have done it well. Leave and descend now to your own people for you are their king and they require your council. Loiter in Heaven no longer, And return when I call you for another service. So take your leave.’ Babeel could not protest as he did in his heart, Despite knowing that Aleph knew what was in the breast. Doubly curious he left, and upon his leave the entire legion of Cherubim desended, To deliver Verdandi her tapestries. Since that time the three sisters have dwelled before the well, Constantly working upon their looms. Receiving and curtailing the threads of life of they whose end is ordained. Some believe the Weavers had already cut every thread of every creature past, or to come or still existing. For they dwell in a region of the Universe where rapacious time cannot set foot, Where rapacious time cannot work it’s wonders. And Babeel who still exists as the damned being was disallowed thereon, All dialogue with the Weavers Divine, As he had oft emprised to commune with Verdandi, Whom he later learnt was not mute, rather rendered mute by Aleph upon Babeel’s approach, Out of profound knowledge of Babeel’s end and the consequences that will cause it. She found it best not to utter a single word when she later regained her faculty. The Great Book was then placed in the isolated section of Heaven, Where dwelled the solitary Malik of terrible countenance, The countless winged Samael whose each wing is armed with an eye and a clarinet; Which he resounds whenever the doom of a nation comes, And it has one massive wing that rests upon the Gjallarhorn; The Great Trumpet that would blow on the Hour when Aleph will wrap the Universe. And none has knowledge of the Hour, not Samael, not Verdandi. None has that knowledge save Aleph, And Babeel, lodging between lofty mountains, Awaits the sounding of the Gjallarhorn; When the skies will turn murky and the terrible Wielder of the Burning Sword Will descend to bring an end to all. And who is this terrible swordsman? None knows None has that knowledge, save Aleph! CHAPTER TWO When Babeel returned to Earth, he heard of the great mischief that had inspired. Queen Nunma, lioness visaged and strong, addressed him in great distress ‘Oh King Babeel, husband mine, king appointed by Aleph, you who are mighty armed and Holy, Whilst you were away on your regular heaven coursing with the aid of your God given wings, The dwarf clan of cunning blacksmiths, the Vanaras, did a great ill. The wise sage Kawi , your advisor, while observing his celibate vows and austere penances, Repaired to the woods seeking solitude. The dwarfish Vanaras, wobbly kneed and thin, tried to charm Kawi with attractive rhetoric. I have heard of a poetry contest conducted thence to check which of the poet of theirs, Or Kawi representing us, was superior, regardless, when they failed to lure him with smooth speechtact, They resolved to seize him and take him away with force. Against his will the wise Kawi was kept, brutally tortured to reveal The secret of the artistry behind your bold wings, made of light yet dark and brooding; Your shining two horned helm with which you subdue your foes with a single gleam; And your brazen maze of bronze inlaid with Malaika’s light, For they have failed to replicate that craftsmanship. And lo! Kawi, who maintained silence despite all their schemes, Succumbed to their torture and expired! Even though it is not for immortals to expire so easily, Thus only consider the brutal devices which they employed for their gains. They have sinned, deviated against nature to learn the secrets. Your advisor, Great Babeel, lies slain on Vanaran plains, and they did not let him rest in peace. They allowed the Haoma rushing through his veins, to leak till he was completely drained And used it to enhance their knowledge (all which Kawi had come to learn in his life long councils and severe penances) But, since you never revealed the secret of your gifts, Their efforts and the death of our advisor were in vain!’ Then Babeel said ‘What you have told me Nunma grieves me deeply! Never had I thought poor Kawi would be a target of the Vanaras, But that is a clan wholly devoured by envy and supreme pride; Envious of the gifts I have received from Up High, crafted specifically for myself by the Malaika And pride they take in their smithing talents which none in our race possesses. And that which they did with Kawi was indeed in vain, for I, upon orders of Aleph, Am not to reveal the secrets of the Malaika’s artistry to anyone, Nor of the business that occurs in Heavens, nor the duties I perform there upon Aleph’s word. Thus they leave me no choice, but to repair to the Vanaran plains And confront them for what they have conspired!’ Incensed, Babeel repaired to his rivals in haste. The two realms separated by a stretch of the woods where the Great Tree was rooted deep, About a thousand boughs and each bough a thousand leagues in length, So both the parties were to keep their business away from the other. Yet such an event happened. The Vanaras who dwelled on the lower plains, and the Asaras who dwelled on the top most bough of the tree were often in conflict, Mainly after the establishment of Babeel as an overseer of both the realms. When Babeel ascended upon their land, where the Haoma from Kawi’s massive body still leaked in drops, The Vanaran army awaited Babeel, and upon seeing him land in full glory, they were slightly scared. They escorted him to the chief where their dialogue occurred ‘Oh Babeel, you who have established yourself as king of both the Asaras and the Vanaras Do you not feel that you have robbed us of the right to rule our own kind? Why should we take orders from one who does not understand us?’ The Babeel said ‘I did not establish myself as king, rather I was appointed by Aleph for both our races, Owing to our greater strength we could serve to protect you better, while you owing to your great skill at smithing, are to fashion weaponry for us! I come in peace only to address all your queries, but not before you explain Why you resolved to killing my humble advisor Kawi. Not only did you kidnap and torture him but also drained his body of Haoma To prepare your drink of knowledge. I know you extracted enough from him to learn from private councils between him and I Of sensitive spots of the Muarij which can cause their death, The severing of the neck, as I see you have done with him, It was secret knowledge granted to me by Aleph, the only manner death can come to immortals For we do not age and wither. But, have you no scruple as to the conduct of the deceased? How could you desecrate a body in such a manner, slay him, hang him in the nude from a bough, And draining the drops of his essence? Is this not an open declaration of war? To keep ones councils private is a basic right of all, and such was the right granted to Kawi, That he refused to speak anything about his king’s assets, When we have coexisted in peace, and dwelled separately so long in harmony,

Picture 10 The dwarfish Vanara skilled at smithing, here drain the blood of Kawi to extract his knowledge. Then why this sudden breach of all oaths?’ ‘Aye! We acted out of our oaths and sought to exact knowledge from your advisor and attendant Kawi, But he was not as chaste and soft of tongue as you think of him. He feigned to practice celibacy in the woods but in truth was a lustful member of the Asara. Oft we received complaints from our women who treaded those woods; Which is common territory between our clans, Of how he often contrived to watch them bathing in the pond. Conspired mischief, stole their clothes so they were forced to either linger in the water for long hours, Or come out and seek their clothes immodestly. We long ignored these activities out of respect for you King Babeel, But recently he went too far and acted viciously by assaulting one of our women in the vilest manner. When she fled for safety, incensed and slighted Kawi chased her out of the woods where he was caught by one of our own. The tale of us slaying him solely to exact knowledge of the craftsmanship behind your assets Are but lies concocted to brew hate amidst us!’ ‘Why should I trust this preposterous tale when you present no proof of his lustful conduct Putting blame on a noble creature is deliberately inviting Aleph’s wrath!’ ‘How can you disregard our story when you have nothing to prove otherwise?’ ‘I see Kawi’s dead body and so it is incumbent upon the accuser to present the proof and not the one accused!’ ‘We have none save the word of the maiden who felt violated by him. We can present her before you and ask her to reiterate her words!’ ‘That is not needed, regardless you should have arrested Kawi and kept him secure And awaited my return to resolve the matter as two civilized parties should, But you took matter in your own hands…’ Then when the Vanara chief presented the maiden that claimed to have been Kawi’s victim, And Babeel was in awe of her beauty despite being of the dwarfish Vanaras, Molded his dialogue to suit the situation in his favor ‘And you offer me no compensation for the loss you’ve caused me. Now that Kawi lies slain by your hands, it is obligatory that we establish certain rules; One, we should divide the forest, equally, so neither is wronged and neither treads the other’s path Two, you offer me a tribute in place of late Kawi, though none can replace him!’ ‘We accept, though we request that the one to draw the boundary of the forest be elected from us, As for the replacement, take any one of these murj standing before you!’ And the chief asked the party of his men to come forward. But the cunning Babeel’s heart had been corrupted by the maiden’s beauty ‘I have enough murj at court, I am in need of no more, However, you have caused me sufficient damage by killing Kawi And despite your affirmations otherwise, Envy is a sin that will linger between our clans owing to my regular ascent to heaven, The Asaras’ superior birth and greater beauty, thus only one thing will serve to lend your envy decrease…’ The Vanara chief appalled by Babeel’s pride sought words to express his discontent But could not speak owing to Babeel’s kingly stature ‘Then what do we have that we can offer you?’ ‘That girl who claims to have been molested by Kawi, I see great sorrow in her eyes, and the merciful being that I am, I cannot bear to see it. Offer her hand to me in marriage and our clans will have eternal alliance!’ ‘But this maiden is one of ours by birth, Our haoma is different to yours and we cannot mingle with your lot!’ ‘Are you insinuating that I will corrupt her?’ ‘Nay, that is not what I say, but that is what has been implied by Aleph! We are meant to exist but not to mingle connubially! It would be unlawful for us to bestow this maiden upon you even though you are most revered. We cannot indulge in such sin!’ ‘But you’ve already sinned by killing one of noble rank from my clan And you sin further by leveling blame against him with such confidence!’ ‘You insinuate repeatedly that we lie!’ ‘I do not, but that is a given when you fail to deliver proof, And then you act most holy by refusing to offer this compensation in the name of Aleph, When it is I who receives Aleph’s council and thus am greater to you in virtue. I am not prohibited from taking one of your kind as my bride!’ And when Babeel was prideful of his kingly stature, and took the dwarfish maiden Ulupi as his bride, The Malaika of the lowest realm then went up toward the realm of Aleph to speak to Him, Though they did not enter his Throne room, they accosted the Cherubim to deliver their message, ‘Oh Aleph! Fashioner of the Universe, the One who ordains all before it comes, Your emissary amongst the Muarij, Babeel, corrupts your Word and maligns your doctrine to suit his needs. He takes for his wife, a maiden of the opposite clan to fulfill his carnal desire, Despite being strongly prohibited from entering into such an alliance, And claims with aplomb that your wrath would not come down on him on account of his regular ascension to Heaven. Lo Aleph! The Great One on High, we do as you order us and deliver his activities to you in haste!’ Then the Malaika having delivered their account to Aleph, returned to their place in the lowest Heaven. The Vanaras yielded before King Babeel to resolve all issues caused by Kawi’s death, And in a carriage brocaded with silk and gilded with light that the crafty Vanaras took from Babeel’s wing, Set upon it the maiden Ulupi and had her delivered to Babeel’s palace in all glory. The incensed Nunma awaited the bride along with King Babeel. He had used facile words to mollify her anger but she was unforgiving ‘I have acted only out of desire to maintain peace!’ he told her ‘If a wedding such as this would ensure the Vanaras humility to me, Then I’d need not fear any future troubles such as the one of Kawi, from their end. Tis a mere alliance meant to strengthen our rule!’ ‘And what of the rules you had been formerly preaching, Of how Aleph ordains that we are to coexist but keep away from such alliances. You should have sought my council prior to making such a decision. This proves that I am as what all say, A prize queen that holds no emotional value to you!’ ‘What is it you say Nunma? You are a gift to me from Aleph, So quit your prating. I will not have this bone of contention with you. You are to give Ulupi due regard as a King’s wife!’ Then Ulupi arrived, well instructed by her preceptors to acquire full knowledge of Babeel’s dealings in Heaven and the artistry behind his assets. Ulupi, seeing how displeased Nunma was addressed her ‘Dearest Nunma, Please accept me as your sister, for when you accept me as such. You will be more open to sharing your husband with me- It is as they say, a thing that belongs to one sister, equally belongs to another, Thus as you take Babeel for your husband, so Babeel is my husband too. And carry not the burden of wrath or envy in your heart, for you are and will always be, The King’s head wife!’ Then Nunma said ‘Since when has it been ordained that co-wives are to take each other as sisters? It is perhaps a new doctrine king Babeel brought down from Heaven? Or is it some smooth talking you’ve learnt during the many years you’ve spent in your crafty clan?’ ‘Nay! Tis something dictated by scruple, not what Babeel tells me, for who would know better about his business in heaven than you? Lest he trusts you not and keeps it private even from his head wife!’ And thus the seeds of discord were sown between Babeel and Nunma by conniving Ulupi For soon Nunma began to cajole Babeel into revealing to her his dialogue with Aleph, Questions which initially Babeel prevaricated but soon rebuffed with aggression. Babeel said ‘Stop wrangling with me on this matter! I am not to speak anything of this so do not force me, Else I will be forced to use violence with you and that is the last thing I would want to do!’ Soon Babeel begat upon Ulupi a son who he named Bolund and Nunma was still barren. But Bolund did not bring Babeel great pride, for he was born lame, with one limp leg that went worse with age. Babeel diverted his attention once again to Nunma, and incensed Ulupi resolved to using magic on Babeel. She mixed his haoma in a mead and upon drinking learnt the secrets of his assets’ artistry! She conveyed these secrets to the Vanaras clan who were quick to adopt them in their construction. During these many years, Babeel had grown exceedingly anxious. Such an appetite he had developed for beauteous heaven and its freely looming inhabitants, That earth and its dwelers served only to make him restless. But he had also grown increasingly scared for acting against Aleph’s orders And marrying a member of another race of the Muarij. If Aleph were to question him, he would shrink with shame and fear. He devised excuses to give to the All-Seeing. When no call came to him for many a years more, he adopted an ascetic life, Still no resounding call came to him from the heavens, Nor a messenger from the malaika descended to escort him to Aleph’s throne! A thousand years passed and no dialogue happened between Aleph and Babeel. The Vanaras had grown mischievous and applied their knowledge (given by Ulupi) Into constructing an army that possessed all the traits they lacked; a formidable look and stature. These creatures called the Titans, were infused with the light from Babeel’s wing stolen by Ulupi They roamed the Vanaran plains freely and had developed a taste for the Haoma In a reservoir filled when Kawi’s body had been drained. They roared and treaded the land and the mountains trembled under their footsteps. Babeel had been slighted by the Vanaras when they started making their Titans And refused to close their forges despite Babeel’s assertions. ‘Tis a scheme meant to conquer!’ Babeel lashed before Ulupi. ‘Even though I showed them mercy and took one of theirs as my wife, They heed not my commands!’ When the titans had grown bolder, they had begun to climb the Great Tree, Though they never breached the Asara’s land. Babeel once again called upon Aleph, but this time his cries were heard and he was summoned. Babeel, overjoyed, quickly applied his wings for flight and aimed for the highest heaven, When he was stopped and intercepted by a legion of the Seraphim ‘None shall travel to Aleph without clearance from us! We have been appointed to parley with those who seek His direct council. Such is Aleph’s decision and Aleph knows all!’ Babeel protested ‘But I have always had the liberty for intimate dialogue with the Great One, Why then am I suddenly disallowed all intercourse with my Lord?’ ‘Nay! You haven’t been disallowed from anything! All creatures can receive His council directly if they seek it, But allowing a single Earth Dweller free speech in Aleph’s throne room would prove unjust To they who equally wish to speak to Him, but cannot, on account of lack of flight! Why do you despair Babeel? For you alone are allowed to go beyond the first tier of Heaven whereas other cannot! He has privileged you and established you as a king among all the Muarij, will you then not be grateful?’ ‘Nay, I am not an ingrate and I give thanks regularly, I just hoped to have one final sight of the Great One Before I am eternally barred from going beyond this scope of Heaven! I seek to tell Aleph of what has inspired in the many years He did not call on me; The Dwarven clan of the Vanaras who formerly languished under my rule, Now perhaps seek to overthrow me, for they have constructed these fearsome creatures Of formidable stature that tease me repeatedly, by climbing the boughs of the Wondrous Tree, Though never breaching our boundary! My rule as a king shrinks as they conspire to grow both in strength and number!’ ‘You speak a great deal of the Vanaras boldness, though you conceal, in vain, Your own misconduct that owed to their construction of these travesties. You do not speak of how you succumbed to your carnal desires and bended the law of segregation between races. Had it not been for your marriage to Ulupi, never would the Vanaras have built the Titans!’ Then Babeel shrank in shame and was silenced ‘I only did it to strengthen my ties with the Vanaras After what they did with my advisor!’ ‘You lie to One Who knows what comes in one’s heart before one can even think it, To the One Who knows the reasons behind ones actions! You feel you can speak an untruth here as you speak to your wife on earth! Then check yourself Babeel for you won’t get a great many chances!’ Then Babeel surmised he had been summoned to be reprimanded And hoped that Aleph would overlook this one misconduct ‘I apologize!’ and he knelt before the angels. ‘Hollow apologies before the angels will not serve you!’ Aleph had already a plan in store for Babeel, To test further the Murj’s excessive pride in his virtue and how deeply he could malign the orders of Aleph. Aleph then gave Babeel a great task, which would incite the Murj’s further envy and increase Babeel’s pride. The Earth’s measuring rod, the great Mount Meros , King of the mountains. Which peeped above its perch from the topmost bough of the Earth’s tree! It was gifted to the king of the Muarij, where he was to sojourn with his two wives in peace, So the Titans climbing the tree would cease to trouble him. Babeel took his wives and constructed there a palace of goodly construction, Which was overseen by the then young Bolund, who despite his age, Had come to show great prowess in smith work; a talent he inherited from his maternal side. The palace was inlaid with the most remarkable stones; Opals, rubies, emeralds, amethysts, topaz, lapis lazuli, And when seen together were woven like a tapestry of myriad colors. Then great envy had been ignited in the Vanaras breasts and that flame only grew with years to the point they had let it burn their hearts entirely. Why had Aleph favored the arrogant Babeel by bestowing upon him endless gifts? Even his indiscretions were overlooked! Babeel then ruled from the top of Mt Meros and his two horned crown shimmered in the night like the twin stars. His elegant mace served as the key to open the gates of his goodly palace And his wings were no longer needed for flight, for he was in close proximity with the heavens And received direct order from Aleph through the Malaika. Babeel’s chest expanded with more pride, his tone whilst speaking to his subjects Was heavily interlarded with condescension and his mannerisms were imperious and brusque. He had grown excessively greedy, repairing to a cave to worship evermore With the singular aim of acquiring more gifts to arouse the Vanaras further envy. His palette was like an endless well; however much was cast into it, it could never be filled. Thus he was ever malcontent and sought more. He even vied with the Malaika who were deprived of thought and will and often raced with them in flight To measure whose wings were swifter. All these activities were not overlooked by Aleph, rather he was blessed with more Only to test further his supreme pride. There came a time when the Cosmic Ocean began to swell. Its contents increased and it started to flood. Cruel torrents struck the earth tree, Crashing tides broke the boughs. The Vanaras, dwelling in the lowest tier could not take the aid of their Titans to climb the Tree and some were drowned. The Vanaras, owing to their supreme knowledge of smithing, had constructed carts and submarines Which could float upon the unceasing billows and even go to the ocean depths for long hours. Aleph then spoke to both the Asaras and the Vanaras directly, and Babeel’s ego was slighted ‘Hearken my words both you clans of the Muarij. Kshirsagar (The ocean of Milk) floods because it is over full with many a new creatures Toiling within its belly to reach the surface. Arrange yourselves in ranks, apply the tree with Meros at its top as the spine And this serpent Nak, wound round the tree as the churning rod. Hold fast onto each end of its rope like length and stir the ocean to upheave the waves, Wring out from within it, the contents disrupting its billows. Partake of the gifts the ocean gives equally, and Babeel I appoint as the overseer of the entire process!’ Though Babeel was overjoyed, the Vanaras were not, still they acquiesced. The many headed chief of the Vanara clan arranged his people in ranks to hold the end of the serpent Nak, while Babeel appointed the Asaras to hold the other end. A decision amongst the Vanara was reached that they would take hold of the serpent’s neck And the Asaras should take hold of the tail, But Babeel intervened to appoint the Asaras on a distinguished place; upon the crown of Nak, They were told to settle and Babeel spoke to Dusashana ‘We are of the ruling race and you are our subjects So act accordingly for the crown holders shall settle upon the crown of the serpent and they who work as smiths should hold fast onto the serpent’s tail!’ ‘Do you look down on us Babeel? Is a king not supposed to act like his subjects? Because you have been given a distinguished position by Aleph, would you then exploit that position and repeatedly look down on us for something we are deprived of by birth; The upright form and noble beauty? Should we then look down on you for something your kind is deprived by birth; intellect and deft fingers? Be not haughty and rebuff us not! For it is we who made your goodly palace in which you long sojourned prior to the one made by Bolund!’ But Babeel hearkened not Dusashana’s words and proceeded to employ his own race as the crown wielders And allotted the tail to the Vanaras! Dusashana, though angered at first, obeyed and the churning of Kshirsagar began. Many a great gifts were put forth by the ocean that day; many a classes of the Malaika; The beautiful maidens with nimble feet and sinewy arms, the Apsaras. Nature spirits, the Yakshas. And the ones who were loathly visaged. Their eyes were terrible, their jaws were ever-slavering and their wings burned with a fire which even singed the Muarij. They were called the Rakshas. The sacred cow Kamadhenu emerged and was appointed by Babeel over Hind. The semi bovine creature was renamed Hinda when man settled on Hind’s plains. She was called Ishnan incarnate; Ishnanmata, for many a centuries later, Ishnan dwelled under her shade. And the giant animals; the Elephant Airavata and the Winged Steed; who man gave many a different names, and rendered different desciptions; eight-legged Sleipnir born of some mischief mongering mare , Seven-headed Uchaishravas allotted as gift to the gods, Winged Pegasus who later came as mount to the slayer of Chimera When the White Steed emerged from the Ocean, Dusashana and Babeel were enamored with it, ‘This I shall take for my kin, we need a winged steed to aid us in tumultuous times such as the floods So many of ours drowned in it and the loss can only be filled with a wondrous compensation such as this!’ But Babeel came and interfered ‘As a king, such a noble creature should come in my lot!’ ‘Why are you never satisfied with what you have? Why do you wrangle with us over the minutest of matters? Aleph’s order it was to partake of the contents equally, will you then not obey? You already have wings attached to your shoulders, then let us have this one winged creature! Take this Elephant, for we are not in need of strength!’ Babeel thought that allotting the winged horse to the Vanaras would enable them to fly to the Heavens, and thus reduce his superiority above all Babeel used his staff to strike the hand of Dusashana and covet the steed. But Aleph summoned the horse to Heaven and the animal was quick to obey, Swiftly he ascended Heavenward and was to serve as the mount for Holy mortals to come. When the two watched the steed take its leave for Heaven, Babeel decided to take the Elephant. ‘Since you have willingly given the elephant to the Asaras, I will take this!’ Babeel said But Dusashana became equally greedy ‘Nay! You wanted the horse, what happens to it concerns me not! I shall take the elephant now!’ ‘Nay! You claimed you require no more strength. Be not so cunning and rob us of all the things this ocean produces!’ And Babeel took the elephant, and when the churning was done, he took the serpent Nak as well. When the immortals caught sight of the Haoma frothing above the ocean surface, They watched it touch the lips of the Vanaras that had drowned, and the deceased came to life as if they had never died. When the immortals beheld this miracle, the entire lot of the two races jumped to collect the froth greedily. They filled their cups and ladles, but the clever Vanaras, talented at conjuring schemes to ease their task Made a suction device and sucked the Haoma into itself. Babeel witnessed their cunning and broke their equipment smiting it with his staff. Dusashana was appalled ‘You sought the winged steed by force but only spared it when it fled to Heaven Then you coveted the Elephant and even abused your power as king to seize the churning serpent, Will you then not even let us have the salubrious froth? Despite Aleph’s orders that we distribute the goods equally! Why do you go so far as to destroy the equipment? Do we use force with you? Do we seize your mace which you are so wont to hurl around? Do we uncrown you of your glorious helm? Do we cut off your wings? Nay we scheme against you not while you continue to slight us!’ ‘If such thoughts you mouth with such aplomb then certainly such thoughts you have long entertained. Do you think I am unaware that you used Ulupi to gain secrets of my assets’ craft? Was that not the knowledge you applied to fashion those vicious Titans? You are indeed a cunning lot and bend Aleph’s orders to your will! He claimed to distribute the goods equally, then why do you resolve to take the entire foam and its revivifying powers? And were you not the one who gave me the elephant yourself and what good will the serpent do you?’ ‘You accuse me of bending Aleph’s orders to suit myself, but did you not go against them yourself by desiring Ulupi? The elephant I gave to you indeed but who are you to judge whether the serpent will do us good or not?’ Then Dusashana’s son began to collect the froth. Babeel hurled his staff to smite him and swerved his sword to sever the head. The son of Dusashana was killed. The Asara clan then rushed and drank the froth. Dusashana wailed and forego all the plans to partake of the ocean’s contents. The wails of Dusashana were heard by Aleph and He had decided in his favor Though He delayed the boons for a suitable time. The Asaras vomited and belched all the foam. None were able to avail the Haoma and were then to stay content with the Haoma within themselves. The immortals were told to repair to their abode; the Asaras to their home at Meros And the Vanaras to the plains at the bottom. Babeel was ordered to take the Malaika that emerged from the ocean, to the Heavens and Babeel did as he was told. Dusashana returned with his son’s corpse hoisted upon his shoulder, with fervent tears and a heart deeply wounded, pleading for justice from Aleph! Aleph appointed Babeel as the one to apportion the new finds of Ksirsagar As well as appointing the angels to their new ranks. He was told to stand near the Weaver’s well before the whole assembly of the Malaika, Evermore prideful of his supreme stature. His mind teemed with arrogant thoughts ‘I, a Murj, stands before the entire army of the Malaika Every inch of heaven is covered by their feet. I am their master and none can exceed me in virtue!’ His thoughts Aleph heard, but He addressed him ‘Hearken Oh Babeel, you have been given great intellect So pick and choose wisely for We have given you a task. Appoint the angels, each and every one of them to their gifts!’ Babeel was overwhelmed and nodded! He started first with the kamadhenu; Semi woman, semi bovine. Her he cast down from heaven and set her at the foot of Meros, As a boon to Asaras’ who then dwelled in what is now ancient Alakapur. Her milk to serve as a source of nourishment for Babeel’s subjects there. Then the Apsara s he saw. Their single glance was enough to ensnare any creature They were shy, and of their chastity, extremely protective. Babeel sent them to the fourth tier of heaven Where they were to recline in ease upon brocaded benches and Thickly upholstered. To eat of the fruit of their trees and dwell in harmony. Then the Yakshas, the nature spirits, one million of whom had emerged, Each of them Babeel tested in prowess. Each of the Yakshas was different and possessed a distinct talent. There was one who could produce the grains One who could split the ears of corn One who could produce the bloom One who could pollinate it One who could upheave the waters and cause floods One who could cause it to recede One who could swell the volcano and cause it to erupt One who could withhold its seething lava in place If one could cause the birth of babe One could kill it in the womb If one could mix salt with sea water One could filter and separate the two And the minutest task that could collectively produce nature’s plagues or bounties Babeel thoroughly assessed and appointed each to a distinguished position. Babeel had learnt of a hellish realm Aleph had made in the pits of an abyss Of raging fires and brutal tortures When Babeel was told to look down, a portal was opened in the clouds to allow Babeel a fleeting glimpse of hell He’d nearly fainted for it was a crimson furnace With bouts of black flames The metal tracks with red hot iron were blasting with smoke and lava And the fruit of the trees was of the vilest shape A head with uneven horns and swelling with boiling oil Streams of poison flowed and burnt the rocks to charred dust Mud of blood and puss margined these horrid streams And the stalactites hanging from the rocks were melting wax It was a terrible sight and Babeel quickly requested to cease the view When he saw the fearsome Raskshas of indescribable hideousness He imputed their bloodshot eyes and sharp fangs and crimson bodies with the view of hell. He saw them able to bring out fiery whips from their arms And use their sharp wings with talons to smite He appointed them as hell dwellers, to do with whoever went there as they pleased. The sweet faced cherubim he appointed as the ones who could enter the highest firmament of heaven And bring down the message of Aleph to the Malaika of the lower ranks. They were less skilled in flight And given a position at the top most tier. The wingless Malaika of remarkable beauty and youth were appointed as the wine bearers of heaven They dwelled under the shade of the grapevine Where they fermented fruit and extracted wine In the regions of the haoma falls which they poured along with their produce. The Seraphim of beautiful voices, often chanting hymns Were appointed as the choir at the second highest tier When the task given to Babeel had been performed with diligence He looked up at Aleph and said ‘Great Aleph! I have performed the task you gave me And I have performed it to the best of my faculties So now tell me what more to do!’ Aleph said ‘Indeed you have fulfilled your order to the best of your ability So now return to your people and act as a king must And tarry no longer in the heavenly realm!’ However Babeel continued to tarry and intruded many a regions in heaven He sought to breach the territory of the Great Book And read from Verdandi’s section of life. The Book had been placed there where Samael the terrible of uncountable arms And accoutrements slumbered He opened to read from the portion of the Book and was appalled to read the tapestries Which depicted with such accuracy the events of his life. It depicted him being appointed as king As the overseer of the muarij races As the one seated at the head of Meros As the one establishing the Malaika’s heavenly duties And he read some pieces of his future, only a few And he was terribly distressed! CHAPTER THREE During this time the earth dwellers indulged in every kind of corruption. The angels took note and thought it incumbent upon themselves to lodge complaint For Earth cried and Heaven too wept for her Miserable both, so the angels went before the throne of Aleph And spoke to him in plaintive voice ‘Oh God! Too much mischief has been wrought by these earth-dwellers And more mischief will they continue to bring- will ye not then set them right? Their sojourn upon earth has outlived their time- so punish both of those Asara and the Vanara Who at the behest of their desire to outdo each other produce offspring strange Of qualities both theirs and the others- mixed breeds unholy And they continue this unlawful process to *progress* Strong bodied and intellect enhanced- poisonous now their traits to ungodly degrees Hoping to advance heavenward with artificial wings designed to carry them to lofty heights Secrets unveiled once Babeel took to wife one of theirs- the cunning Ulupi- As crafty of wit as hands- had such an occasion never occurred, never would they have advanced too much Would ye then not take action against them? And Babeel which you hold most beloved started this!’ And another angel was sent to them with message from up high ‘Do ye speak of knowledge which I have not given you? All-knowing am I of what Babeel planned prior to his planning And what came out of that union prior to its arrival! So speak not further for nothing is without purpose; Not the slightest flicker of the leaf, nor that deep root deprived of any iota of light Each action shall unveil its consequence with time- as swift as the ripple cast in water when struck by a pebble! Then the sisters spake ‘Forgive our indiscretions, indeed we know only that which ye has told us! But do you speak of Bolund? Craftsman son of Ulupi? Is he to be pivotal in your plans? Then aye we have spoken wrongly, His arrival too was then indispensable!’ ‘But you speak wisely for indeed they have transgressed and they seek to transgress further In this sin promulgated by Babeel and for which he has observed penitence severe Whether it was from the heart or not, ask me not Whether I have accepted it or not, ask me not!’ And then Aleph convened the Malaika from all spheres of Heaven And beneath the rampart of clouds shielding Aleph's throne- Aleph spoke to them ‘Go ye now on Earthly terrain and relieve the earth of her burden great She stresses much in discomfort and pleas for us to remove their torturous lot They fight and they fight among themselves for superiority, but they have fought enough Long their tumult I have ignored but no longer, for they wreak havoc pointless And contend with each other over who first can enter Heaven's boundary! A few succeeded in developing those wings they have long worked upon, Flapping and beating in the air their artificial devices, they reached close proximity of the first tier Albeit none could enter it- but they eavesdropped upon councils divine, exchanged from angel to angel, And these councils which they hearkened only partly, maligned it and spread them as rumors about the earth dwellers Twisting further doctrine mine with their mischief, and owing to their newly built wings Vying to secure loftier positions among their clans None is to be mightier than the other, and none is to mingle with the other, but such became allowed and made flesh by the actions of my emissary So go now the entire lot of you, Be you assigned to work in heaven at any tier Be you assigned to work in hell at any tier Go and obliterate their entire party so we can flourish the earth anew’ And Babeel appeared then before the angel convention and asked obsequiously as to what conspired No angel to him spoke but Aleph accosted him through the rampart ‘Babeel you have come and I shall tell you what conspires. Why? Because the mischief occurring on the earth started with your action. Therefore I tell you, your kind pure, and those hybrid kind continue to cause corruption severe Earth weeps over its scars and blisters and cracks which your companions have wrought And she pleads for us to end her suffering- either by rendering her inanimate or by obliterating all earth dwellers. Since the earth is vital I have therefore decided to do the latter And now the angels have been tasked with a task most unique To go down and end this miserable generation so we can flourish the earth anew!’ And Babeel though ashamed of having started the mischief of the Asara and the Vanara Was renewed with an energy and promptly thought of being once again The superior king of the new generation to come- indeed the present ones had deviated and no longer heeded his laws And hoping to heighten his stature in the eyes of Aleph once again he said ‘Allow me to accompany the Malaika in this quest, Aleph Supreme Allow me to go down on earthly soil and destroy the mischief mongers and give way to the new generation.’ Then Aleph through his angel spoke ‘what has moved you to take so drastic an action Do you dread the decrease in your kingly place or do you crave a boon? We shall spare none of those who insist upon wreaking havoc on earth’ ‘Nay I crave no boon Lord and Sovereign mine, nor do I act out of dread for my own kin Rather I accept it as an act of the highest virtue, though killing my own brethren would cause me great suffering I take it upon myself to aid your heaven sent army and end them all, to wipe my palette eternally of that sin which brought mischief Accept this offer mine and I shall prove a worthy subject to you Great Lord Aleph!’ And Aleph accepted his plea and told them all to go down and finish the task they'd been given But Babeel desirous of power more said ‘Oh Lord Aleph, These people mine have grown powerful to a point my gifts against them are impotent Will you not then arm me with a weapon superior than any of theirs? For I, being your creation am incapable of forging for myself a weapon potent enough To end those of my kin already more powerful than I While you, Lord the God Aleph, can make whatever you will! So aid me please Oh Aleph, aid me by providing me a weapon divine One last boon I swear to receive from you’ Aleph hesitated not and endowed upon him the weapon he wished for Of a type and form he so desired- a wondrous bolt of gold with silver inlaid Tethered with universal power and beaming with radiance. Once Babeel wielded it, within him it became absorbed, and upon will he could produce it And when required he could stir the clouds and direct thunder and lightning Overwhelmed and feeling superior now to all- thanked profusely Aleph the Great And with the angels went down on earth and took his place above Meros And from that pinnacle charged his weapon, allowing all to behold its might No aught of light lingered when his weapon was charged, and down all he darted it. And anywhere the weapon failed to reach, the angels did their work. Every leaf of the great tree was first entombed in ash, then withered Every creature dwelling upon earth perished. Elated, Babeel returned after the destruction of his kin Ascended heavenward with Malaika troops to dwell amidst them Applauded by Aleph, and allotted a goodly rank, Conversing with the heavenly beings, Touring the heaven's endless expanse, He soon became weary of the Malaika, For they spoke of doctrines only, followed unquestioning the orders divine, Of course he and his family were all provided asylum, But he had tired of them as well. He could no longer live complacent with little excitement, And his anxiety Aleph had observed. The top tier of Heaven, where only a select few were allowed, Had increased in the influx of traffic. Malaika ascended toward Aleph's throne room and descended with scrolls which They unfurled and read the contents in private. Only a limited group of the Malaika were tasked with working upon it And no amount of inquiries by Babeel availed him. The Malaika were immune to all manner of enticement, and they'd never act against their Order. Within a distinct region of heaven called the Forge, Where lived the divine smith of the Malaika. And whose artistry had aroused in Bolund great envy, Toward his chamber the Malaika's entry and exit increased As their heavenly council ceased. The smith named Kari, worked ceaseless upon his project. Legions of the Malaika, those distinguished in rank frequented the remains of the Earth And returned with mud of varied hues. No manner of creature not heavenly, can weigh and measure that lot of mud brought to heaven But it was red mud and yellow mud and black mud and brown mud and white mud And soon Babeel, despite his great intelligence could not keep record of the many colors introduced to the Smith's chambers. From that region seething flames began to issue Then the sizzle of cold water added over red hot object. Though Nunma and infant Lughanshesh and Bolund were restricted to their space within Heaven, Babeel, could travel close to the divine forge and check the bustling of the Malaika about. He caught hold of one platoon going earthward and lamented 'Why do you keep these councils private from me? I, who has colluded against my own kin and turned my family and myself a loner amidst the earth-dwellers, Not trusted enough to be included in these meetings! I am aware my weapon was not entirely infallible And despite your later coverage a few of the immortals were spared, So I that have been disgraced as a selfish king among the earthly immortals Now being treated as an outcast in Heaven too!' The Malaika then spoke 'Babeel, we are not allowed to speak a word of the nature of our task And like you, we too have no intimate knowledge of whatever goes on. But we are not naturally anxious like you and we are content with doing whatever is required of us. If you have qualms about activities in Heaven then address them to Aleph, For we are unable to answer any of your queries. You must know that even among the Malaika, not all are given knowledge of everything. Each one is allotted a separate task and none contends over it with the other. Perhaps you feel left out because you are unaware, that Heaven is ever bustling with activity. Time exists here not so we can not measure the amount of task we do Nor are we ever spent with fatigue. If you seek our advice, then we suggest you live here in peace and not upset yourself with knowledge not meant for you.' And they left for earth while Babeel was exasperated. 'I do not need your advice! Perhaps it is the new creation with which Aleph seeks to refurnish earth. I will address my issues to Aleph, for after my undertaking of a task most burdensome And performing it without hesitance I deserve more praise!' So Babeel went to the limits of Heaven which he was allowed And when intercepted by a group of cherubs he told them 'I seek to have Council with Great Aleph!' And he was allowed a council. He entered the throne room, anxious, and upon entry saw a small, brilliant and handsome creature. He had well placed features, smooth skin and body covered entirely with soft lanugo. The downy body was warm upon touch, and its breast rose then pushed inward as it heaved. 'Is this what will repopulate earth? This small, weakly creature!' Unlike Babeel, it wasn't a fiery creature, but of clay. Then Babeel realized why the Malaika frequented earth. A creature made for the earth, from the earth. A weakly being who would not torture earth with diminished powers. 'So Babeel you have seen the creature we wish to introduce on earth! Indeed he it is with whom you shall coexist.' Aleph's words issued from behind a veil. Then Babeel said 'Great Aleph am I no longer to behold your glory?' 'This is a veil that has been cast before your eyes for your own good. For neither his eyes nor yours can look at me now.' 'Why such secrecy toward me? Why was I not allowed to be privy to whatever went on? Why was I treated as an outcast?' 'Why must you be bothered with something you need not worry about? Babeel, is it not enough for you that you are the first among your kind To set eyes upon our new creation?' Behold! Man!' When Babeel saw Aleph adore the new being, his envy was aroused. 'You said that I am to coexist with this being? Am I not to be his superior? Will I not be his king?' 'Nay! You shall redwell with equality! And this time too you are prohibited from cohabiting with them. You shall not disregard My orders a second time, Else great chaos will brew!' 'But am I not to be offered an elevated position after my performance. Upon your orders I went down to destroy my kin!' 'Babeel, it is a distinguished position which you have received. None from your lot has ever visited Heaven. None from your lot has ever lived alongside the Malaika. None from your lot has ever set eyes upon our creation prior to their descent to earth.' Then Aleph addressed the Malaika, who emerged from every pore of the chamber And they stretched leagues upon leagues, Not a single Malak was not present there. 'Now, bow before this Man!' And all the Malaika did as they were ordered. Babeel who stood slighted was addressed. 'Babeel! We have told all present here, you included! Bow before him!' Babeel gaped then stepped back and shook his head profusely. 'You refuse Our command?' 'I will not bow before a lowly creature!' 'You dare disobey, Babeel?' 'I will do whatever else you ask of me, But I will not bow before a one so reduced in stature to myself! I who have ruled as king in each generation of my kind. I who you made from unflickering fire, resilient to everything, How can I bow before this creature made of clay? Who will turn mouldy with age and wither! He who bleeds from every cut rendered Who feels tenfold each emotion Who thinks more than required and who acts foolishly in all affairs. How can I bow before this creature of clay?' 'So you have decided to disobey! And since you descant in detail upon the nature of this creature You have disregarded our orders and spied upon the Weavers and Read from the Book! We ignored your previous infractions and favored you amongst your kin, While you abused your power repeatedly! You despite having beheld Our glory, mercy and forgiveness, Refused to cast out your excessive vanity! Surely you have transgressed your limit! Who was it that gave you the throne and the crown? Was it not Us? Who was it that allowed you to enter and leave Heaven? Was it not Us? Who was it that enabled you to converse with the Malaika? Was it not Us? Yet you stand shamefully with pride plastered all over your demeanour. You tremble with nervousness and yet your knees do not bend! Go on then! Leave Heaven and never return! Shame upon you and all who join you! Accursed Babeel! You who was favored by Us, now by Us you are eternally condemned!' 'You are throwing me out of Heaven? Despite all I have done, it is you who cares not for me! Aye! I have indeed read from the Book, While I was tarrying in Heaven left alone as an outcast That is how I entertained myself. Aye! I have indeed read from the Book, And I know of how history now will unfold! I have come to learn of the Hour, When you shall wrap up the universe and destroy all As you used me to destroy my kingdom!' 'Then indeed you've committed a grave transgression! But why, you have read only a part of the Book And even that your puerile mind cannot fully comprehend! Let me show you now YOUR future!' And an infernal portal was opened and all looked down into Hell. At the evil tree which provides the fiery fruit to its inhabitants The fruit hanging heavily from the lean boughs. Shaped in the form of Babeel's face without its splendour. With a helm half charred and one horn broken! Bruised, mangled almost beyond recognition, Yet it was knowledge with which Babeel was inspired by Aleph That he knew when he set eyes upon it, that it was indeed him. And he dwelled there with his wretched mates within the lowest and dismal pit of hell. That place was called Irkalla and upon its splendorous throne Seated with aplomb, was Babeel's erstwhile rival Dusashana! Dusashana! The one he thought had perished when Babeel smote all with his weapon. Then Babel said 'So, it was Dusashana whom you favored! Well aware you were of my disgrace, was all your adulation for me a pretense? Have I never been special to you? Indeed I can tell I have not! So be it! For my fall has been decreed and so I shall accept it! But I will not leave these mortals content! I will do all in my power to send them in disarray! Since they are fools, I will fool them further! Since they are weak, I will weaken them further! Since they are selfish, I will drive them against one another! And all shall accept my supremacy over them! As you told me to bow before them, I will tell them to bow before me, And they will! They indeed will!' 'Yes Babeel you are now utterly depraved! Pervade with evil everything you desire, We will send from amongst them pious souls for guidance!' Ah those pious mortal, the pious titanic mortals! What of those titanic mortals you will send? The sons of this cruel Cronide , against them, will conspire and conspire! Carthaginian flames rise! Amanuz re tu’amuz, The brazier bellies shall feast upon infant flesh! Stench of burning charcoal won’t suppress the stench of charred babes! Carthaginian flames rise! Baal-Beel azfarun ma’eel, This devil will tread upon a serpent wound boat to aid the dead to hell! Send whatever you may wish my way; Malaika, Messengers Man, mortal or any other, imbue them with all your divinity, I shan’t rest! I shan’t rest! I will meddle with their hearts and minds! I will twist disbelief with incredulity, Then between the good and the evil, none will know. Send your angels to filter for man, pure milk from muddied water, For that is how I will mix my devices with your directives! How easy to beguile with the seen than the unseen! The many qutb and the kamil , whom you’ll send for human aid, The noble son born to an idolatrous brood, the worshippers of slender Ishnan’s many forms, Allat, Manat and Uzzat , to you they’ll ascribe these daughters three, This son shall be the progenitor of mortal deliverers, tested inexorably by clansmen of his own, To him I shall go, and him I shall tempt, Depict you as a tyrant great and myself bearer of mercy endless, And then we shall see, in whose favor he turns. The river farer , taken into the foster care of the ureret crown Unto whom the soothsayers will speak a prophecy grave *Your forefather’s kingdom will soon rust and wither* But when that infant shall grow to adulthood, and receive from you a boon, A staff equal in prowess to mine ancient mace To him I will go down, tempt him into my worship *Prostrate before my feet, clasp your hands and make a wish. Formerly you took me as an otherworldly courser, Me you called the guide of the dead, the herald of night and day; For the sun above and the moon below, Children of time, my ancient emissaries! Will you then climb this Sinai top for self deception?* And the one with godly boons, Leper curer, reviver of dead to him I shall go as a sickly child Take a comely shape for tempting, To him I shall say ‘waste not these wondrous talents to further the cause of the Unseen, Claim divinity for yourself, malign the holy words!’ And when Babeel ceased his discourse on swaying mankind from the path of Aleph Aleph did not speak a word to him and Babeel once again slighted began to utter to himself Then loudly ‘Me you armed with a weapon most destructive. Injured gravely merit mine amongst my own kind. Upon your orders I have perished most in my kingdom, Solely to serve as a subject in yours. Yet after all this you aver from me. Cast me out of your brilliant home to contest with newcomers whom you deem better than I. Am I now to vie with these lowly creatures of clay? Cold and dismal whose breast encloses a cold and shallow heart. While I, whom you made of fire with a breast enclosing an organ Whose fervent thumps speak nothing save your name? Then aye! Cast me down to redwell in disrepute Amidst those who shall flourish upon the earth of the God who dwells and pupetteers them from Up High! Unaware of how their Maker plays with them; At once raises them above the ranks of the Malaika, And at once hurls them into dismal pits. If that be your Verdict and if that alone is your Plan for me, Then I shall live as a wretched and delve deep into the deepest darkness, For I am born to serve a purpose of evil great, Then an agent of evil I shall be! For who will Good vie with if there is none to birth Evil. Thus from today onwards, I appoint myself as an emissary of Evil, And rest assured that purpose I shall serve best with all prowess. Allot me companions in this eternal endeavor and your creation I shall deviate. Within Hell shall I and my companions dwell And while you will play with them from the Highest Realm, I shall play with them from the Lowest. Thus toward the end we shall see, Whether it is Irkalla who cries in rage at his load, Or Heaven who rejoices with her company. ‘Hearken wretched Babeel! Go and show Me not your foul visage till the End! Go and do as you are wont to do out of envy great; Deviate them from the good and direct them to evil, And lo! I shall arm you with not a few companions But legions upon legions of evil-doers like yourself. They will fill your pit to the brim and you shan’t be able to bridle them! And forget not, tis not you who produces Evil, but I, For it is I who created you too! But I also create good to armor oneself against it. And while I gave you gilded horns that shone brighter than the sun, So you heralded dawn to the distant stars with your two beacons bright And paraded around with myriad colors overhead. And does your memory betray you or do you lie, You begged to accompany the Malaika in their quest to end the earthly battle. I allowed you, deemed you capable enough to serve as my soldier And armed you with a formidable weapon, yet you run your mouth unchecked. Go! Go then and enjoin evil both you and the companions you seek, And await the Hour to see yourself, Whether it is Irkalla who cries in rage at his load, Or Heaven who rejoices with her company!’ And then a legion of the angels came, the prodigious one attacked Wrenched Babeel’s crown, broke one horn and placed it upon him ‘Now live to forever see your disgrace!’ Then another angel came and tore his wings ‘Never will you engage in the art of flight heavenward!’ Then another angel came, and via incantations, took away his beauty ‘Never will you enrapture people with that which you were excessively proud of!’ Then Babeel was cast out of Heaven and forced to dwell on earth Which human beings were populating. And Babeel adequately spoiled them. CHAPTER 4 Though he’d been banished from mercy He took up his abode, cushioned upon the belly of Naak on the milky billows of Kshirsagar, Unholy Nunma engaged deeply in her connubial duties and massaged his feet with milk and honey and perfumed them with oils And during his retirement he learned indeed his alliance with his mate produced no offspring He’d been cursed for all eternity Instead he would bring from within himself vile progeny of lowly stature and power. He had become both manlike and womanlike. And once again Babeel raised his head to heaven and addressed Aleph ‘I asked for companions for my endeavor and you had said *You shall be given companions endless* Such is the way my plea has been twisted! What am I now, a joke for all of immortal kind to laugh at? Such a travesty I am! I asked for companions for my endeavor and you had said *Companions enough such that you cannot hold* And indeed I can now have as many a companions as I desire The joy of an infant born of an alliance has been wrested from me! Such is the reward for a lifetime of earnest worship!’ And his words were heard and responded to And the birth of Jami was written down And Aleph spoke to Babeel directly for the last time ‘A child born of an alliance with a mate is what you desire, Then such a child you shall be granted!’ With a thunderbolt, Babeel was cast out of his home on Kshirsagar And forced to dwell on earthly grounds once again But with the kind he so detested. Man had populated the earth and Babeel resolved to do as he had promised he would Swaying mankind from the right path! And in his name the kings were anointed. Helms were adorned with horns or the ureret upon the crown. The dead were tossed into the waters for Babeel with his serpent Became the intermediary for the souls and his abode Became the conduit between the realms. In his name the bards sang. The kings' lavish court resounded with Babeel's lore, invented tales To make sense of his person. 'Babeel the horned one, Strong of form and will. The life giver Babeel, For all life emerged from the water where ye dwelleth. Accept this brother ours, Departee from the world of the living and Guide him through turbulent waves Vouch for him and with thy intercession get him a place amidst the celestials.' BabulONak, the name he soon acquired became revered among the people as a fertility deity. The giver of vegetation, The one with whose blessings the fields were irrigated. When the flood came, a hecatomb of lamb was offered to placate the deity's wrath And when the towns flourished, a hecatomb was offered to thank him. Among the people, a lad emerged as an emissary of the Great Aleph, Enjoined upon all to disregard the worship of Babel 'Do ye not see the priggishness of thy act? It's a terrible fiend who tours the waters and fools thee. Terrible! Terrible! Terrible! Dismiss these acts. What's been done can not be undone but Ruin not thy future by kneeling before this travesty. This is not thy god, nor tis mine!' A wanderer he called himself and ignited the wrath of the townsfolk. So deeply had they invested themselves in this worship And so this wanderer acquired a great number of persecutors. 'Will ye not accept the river god, the one who lends ease to the deceased? The one who grants to our crops life and death! Ludicrous is thy claim! Ludicrous indeed! Ye are deserving of admonishment!' By the hair they grabbed him And with a knife at his throat, threatened him 'Denounce! Denounce thy claims, Ye who blasphemed gravely! If not then we shall pray to BabulONak, our Lord, To leave your soul wandering 'tween the worlds and Acquire not for you, a place amidst the divine! Denounce! Denounce!' But he who called himself the wanderer refused to accept their threats and cried repeatedly 'Nay! Nay! If thou seekest thy abode beyond death in the devil's company, then proceed! But cause me not to accept thy evil deities as God!' The temple priests whom he had greatly slighted By challenging their positions in the temples Slit his throat and had the body dismembered and thrown in the river. Then in unison they prayed to BabulONak to give him no surcease of agony! 'Drown each moment in the watery abyss. Accursed human! Denouncer of the true faith!' The assembly dispersed and tried in vain to placate their God when later their crops blighted. No amount of hecatomb caused the river god to treat their ailment. The town perished! Save the bards of the king's court. Save they who worshipped Babeel not with excessive devotion. They travelled to distant lands and carried with them the lore of their previous towns. The new townsfolk acquired the new god with great zest and the god acquired a new audience and his visage changed From a ram to a bull. They took their kings and called them the shadow of Babeel on earth. Called one such king Babeel Malik. Each household had a shrine in the king's name In which were burnt daily sacrificial fires and into it was poured melted butter. The bodies thrown into the river resurfaced and such was the bards' shame That they wept bitterly and lamented their god Babeel, the deserter. There were organized processions for nightly weeping, over shattered beliefs. No water dwelling deity transfered the deceased to there where the celestial reside, But mended their broken hearts and found solace in the hope that though the corpses lingered The souls were delivered to a better place. Babeel rejoiced in his accomplishments. 'Alas! Alas! I have done as I had promised. From Aleph's light I shall deviate His beloved humans and goad them to a travesty of gods!' And at that time, hellish flames erupted and every cavern breathed fire. Earth dwellers Choked upon its sulphurous fumes which burst forth from every pore. Discord brewed! Great discord brewed! And upon their king, Malek Babeel, they directed their prayers and Malek Babeel enjoyed that devotion. To him their hymns were sung, sought relief from the pollutants destroying the earth and destroying them. 'The earth gives off its brutal smoke, The earth is angry! The earth is angry!’ They thought the sun's heat grew evermore. Within the sun's sharp, wannish nimbus they could see the face of Lord Baal! And they spake 'Oh lord Baal, Adonai, titles yet another of great Babeel, Have we sinned? Have we sinned? Then forgive our transgressions for we repent!' Then to king Babeel Malek's court they marched and sang 'King Babeel Malek, why does the sun heat up the earth? These terrible fumes grow unbearable each day! Heal the earth for ye are capable of that! Babeel transposes himself upon thee!' But the king, helpless in strengthening them in such a time of despair, Endeavored to lend them ease with facility of speech 'Worry not, subjects mine! Thy troubles will cease for at night thy king will speak unto Babeel who hath taken place now amidst the stars And traverses the heavens by directing his water faring boat from the rivers to the sun. The sun now rises and sets upon the orders of Babeel. And they who die travel heavenward where upon a golden throne seateth Babeel Adonai to receive them!' And they all gasped and understood the reason for the earth's heat, Now that Lord Babeel had taken up residence and set his throne upon the sun Some transgression of theirs caused him to punish them such. For when he dwelled in the rivers, he punished them with surges of tides or withholding them entirely. Now that on the sun he lives, he punished them by burning earth. 'Utterly foolish!' The king Malek had mocked the people in private. 'Utterly foolish and upon me such a burdensome task! Nay! I shan't let it weigh me down, for these people believe whatever lies to them are fed. Therefore I'll give them ease by feeding them some more! Call for the temple priests to my courts! Arrange for them to conduct a nightly prayer! A farce indeed, but who is to know? None! None at all! Shower upon the earth cold water so till morn it stays cool And when the night transfigures into bright morning, And once again the sun hangs like a brilliant disk on the hued sky, Gather the fools here, barefoot upon the cold earth, And tell them, thy god has been placated! For the wrath of god is like a flickering flame and foolish prayers are like water that will douse it!' His orders were followed and they were followed well. All night in Babeel's name, the chants were chanted aloud. Priests knelt for hours and drank not, spake not and the hot earth exuding fumes was restored temporarily to normalcy by showering upon it cold water. When the sun rose, the people were assembled and to them the king addressed. 'Hearken, devoted followers mine, The god Babeel spake unto thy king with great passion. The king won thy god's love with night long devotion. Now see! See the skies alit by a sun that shies away from burning too bright And feel the cool earth beneath thy feet. Has thy king not been merciful to thee? Now kneel before thy king! He who embodies the sun god Babeel!' The people were fooled but only a while, For the coolness beneath their feet did not last long And they complained to the king first softly then in harsh words. 'Malek Babeel, what hath ye done in thy night long worship? The earth is transfixed with anger still. Thy prayers ceased not the torment wrought upon her by the wrathful sun! Or perhaps thy fervor has turned as lukewarm as this ground!' The king angered at his subjects' temerity, seized the one who spake big words. 'Thou shows disrespect toward thy king? Do thee wish for a beheading? Thy king is Babeel's shadow on earth!' And while the king touted, Babeel laughed at the great length humans had deviated But he too was utterly confused about the condition of the earth Who continued spewing venom from every pore and whose fumes caused the people to choke, But he did not care for them and from Within that brood of Babeel worshippers, stepped forth a man. Young and calm, a peasant lad and the king he addressed in such words 'Do ye claim to be the shadow of Babeel on earth? Then ye are simply the shadow of the devil! For no god would take on forms that rouse fear when one glimpses upon its visage! Oh ye people, friends of mine for I come in peace and have no foes, Do ye not see the priggishness of thy act? Ye worship a devilish fiend who claims to tour the skies and fools thee. Terrible! Terrible! Terrible! Dismiss thy acts! What's been done can not be undone but ruin not your future by kneeling before this travesty! This is not thy god nor is it mine!' And when the people heard these words they were appalled! And when the king heard these words, he was incensed! And when Babeel heard these words, he saw the lad as but a reflection of the former wanderer And the lad's words mirrored the words of the wanderer too! 'Aye! I see now a pattern! Aleph acts and has started sending forth mortal emissaries, But mortals are foolish and I will tempt the ones he speaks to and cause him to denounce his claim! Torture, that is the solution! Wring from his mouth words of praise for Lord Babeel, Goad the impious king to act haughtily! ' And then Babeel possessed the king and channeling his human faculties spoke to the lad 'Ye speaks badly of thy god Babeel, But are not imprecations and maledictions simply prayers with attributed inverted? Love and devotion are a thing of poetry and only touted such But hate is rooted deep in the soul and can never emerge till felt truly! If ye hate Babeel with such passion then surely ye feels for Babeel intensely!' 'Twist not my words! I speak indeed from the heart, but not only hate, but love too, and the latter I have never felt for thee! I smite thee with words, Abhorrent One! Disgraced ancient fiend! I smite thee further with grave words, for that is what my mortal bod allows me! I smite thee mischief monger and curse thee to forever burn in the abyss, In the realms lowest of the low! Thy reign will end and thy reign will end most miserably!' And incensed Babeel caused the king to order his subjects 'This fool denounces thy God, Stand not like statues and end his life. Make his death a lesson for all to come!' The people pulled him by the hair and severed the sinews of his knees 'Now never stand against the great Babeel!' Then of his elbows the sinews were severed. 'Now never raise your arms to mock the throne of Babeel!' Then in both eyes they blinded him. 'Never stare at the glory of Lord Babeel with doubt!' Then his tongue they pulled out. 'Now never will ye question the greatness of Lord Babeel!' And though the torturers sought to keep him alive, They realized the first strike upon the knees had brought forth his last breath. From their subsequent attacks he felt no pain. When they ceased their savagery, the earth burst forth with fountains of fire. There were blasts at every mile of the track and that fire was black and lustreless, Such that if in a dark room it was issued, it would add to the darkness And if issued in a room lit by the sun, it would absorb any aught of illumination. For the fire was the fire of Irkalla and it's burns never healed Save when Aleph commanded and with every flicker it acquired fearsome forms. So versatile in its traits than any fire the humans had known. The land belched the fumes and the people either dispersed in madness or fell to the ground in horror. Babeel left the king's body and appeared in his true form, When the people saw him, hideous and glowing purple by his actual blue skin acquiring the red undertones over the centuries, They lost their sanity. Even the murky sky breathed sulphur and the clouds serried together in harmony scattered about like a discordant flock of sheep. A shape emerged behind the red expanse of the sky, a whirlpool formed. Never had Babeel trembled at the sight of hell than that day When he saw his devotees in their frantic search for haven, But no haven did those wretches find. For Aleph that day transformed the earth into a tract of hell And from up high an angel spoke unto Babeel 'Behold now a flash of thy future! This is what ye solidifies your home in!' And though Babeel heard that warning, he did not heed it, For he was too grounded in his present and cared not for his future. For nature it is that when the eyes behold a terrible sight, they seek to flee The eyes are then bound to their temporal safety. 'Now upon thee shall come down thy foe And through him will come thy end!' When these words the angel uttered, all upon the earth halted. Frantic men and women froze in their position. The air was still. The fiery blasts stopped. Then a seething ray of light tore through the sky and within that beam a monster emerged. A terrible monster! Whose size no murj could assume. Then a great fear erupted in Babeel's heart, For that monster had a head at once like a lion and a serpent. Venom dripped from its fangs and burned craters into the ground it touched. Temples and devotees of Babeel were turned to ash. Babeel watched the monster fully emerge from the light. It's legs were a mass of vipers, it's hair too. It's eyes were fiery orbs. It was the murj capacity to not be blinded by that sight, But humans could not endure that view. Then the monster paused, and lunged to where Babeel stood. The king of the murj was swift in his evasion and leapt a few leagues away from the monster. It is said the two paced about the whole world that day and Babeel was nearly caught in the monster's jaws, But while that monster was a loner, Babeel summoned all his children for his aid. Babeel took to a stretch of mountains and hid behind a crag (Diminishing his stature to prevent the monster from seeing him) The enraged monster tore fissures into the ground, burrowed throughout the mountain to catch the immortal king, but did not find him. Lughanshesh emerged to divert the Da'ab away from his father and allowed it to chase him. The slaver ruined towns and disallowed any of the muarij to reach him, For despite beings of fire themselves, the Da'ab's heat they could not endure. 'My dear Lughanshesh, pry this creature away from your father till Bolund engineers a device Which allows us to endure it's heat!' CHAPTER 5 And to Bolund's forge Babeel repaired and commanded him to make such a device. 'But father, how can I make such a thing?' Bolund articulated softly, but Babeel would not accept a refusal! 'However it is to be done, do it! I do not care! That monster must be downed!' And Bolund worked. For nine days and nine nights he worked. And it is said that he went out to look for things which do not exist. The courage of a coward. The voice of a mute. The soul of the deceased. The speech of a newborn. And with that he returned and made items of two kinds. He also held a council in secret with the exiled Vanaras And took their help in constructing with his finds, an armor and a chain. When these two items were forged, he passed them on to Babeel Who in turn passed the armor to Lughanshesh and the chains to his sons Chokmah and Tsiphareth. The armor Lughanshesh adorned and to the Da'ab's fangs and venomous slaver he became invincible. And with the chain, Chokmah and Tsiphareth tied the vipers beneath the Da'ab's waist and cutting another piece of the chain Bound the vipers of the monster's head. And during this process great damage was done to the mighty Da'ab. It's naval was severed and so was it's foreskin And thrown into the oceans where they lay dormant for a millenia. Then the legions of the immortals conspired to dig a trench beneath Bolund's forge. So deep was the trench that the ocean waters decanted into it yet could not fill it up. Then with Bolund'a chains, the monster's jaws were kept shut. With the chains below the waist they girdled it about the mountain. Well secured was the Da'ab, but oft in pain when it writhed, the earth quaked. Then Babeel employed the water sirens to keep the Daab dormant. Babeel continued his corruption. Although the city over which he ruled with an iron fist had perished, He did not delay in propagating himself elsewhere And with unlimited number of minions at his disposal, he achieved once again what he intended. 'Yes! The heavens try and try but they shall never succeed in dethroning me in the mortal world!' And in this new city, after a millenia, from the froth of Da'ab's severed member came the 'pearl' goddess, the 'oyster' goddess, Ishnan. Languishing in a shell for centuries, she finally came to the shore, emerged like a lovely pearl from the comfort of her shell-home. On the shores she was found by a lot of Babeel praising pedestrians and beholding the otherworldly beauty and her otherworldly abode, the oyster They picked her up and planted her in the temple of Babeel, Made her both the female emanation of their dearest god as well as his consort queen. Ishnan, unamused and unimpressed by the gullible humans sought to leave their temples and their kingdom and repair once again to her home in the waters. But lo, had she known what a custom her departure would bring forth, Had she known that she would contribute to an endless series of temples in her name, And later attach her name with epithets both good and bad, she might have reconsidered her leave from the temple or emergence on the shores altogether. But none knows the future and as soon as she found the temple vacant, she fled and jumped into the tides. They who watched her become one with the waters, thought her an Apsara weary of life both on heaven and earth, thus she took residence in the waters Where she'd have to deal with neither humans nor deities. Ishnan's temples soon gained popularity and were combined with the worship of Babeel. To praise one and not the other was a depravity of the highest order and worthy of punishment. Ishnan appeared in those waters every now and then, and she was called the giver of beauty, for hers was unmatched. The people turned to her temples to get her blessing upon their infants. The boys endowed with virility, the girls with beauty! The people cried 'Naught has ever taken residence in these waters save Babeel and his many forms To us he came first as a man and sanctified the role of man To us he comes now a woman thus sanctified now a woman shall be!' They'd stand near the shores for long hours, Disallowing their babes nourishment till the goddess made an appearance, Which she was wont to do in dreary autumnal days, It would be deemed an excellent prognostic But if the goddess did not show herself, it was taken as a bad omen, That the baby girl would not grow up to be the beauty she was expected to be And the fathers would snatch them from their hesitant wives and cast the babe into the water For a dead infant was always better than an ominous one; Ominous they would be, for Ishnan did not grace them with her presence. Such horrid customs continued and Ishnan's shores were polluted by tiny corpses. She was affronted, not because they aroused her sympathy, But because they were in her path, Interrupting her from enjoying a good swim, Which she often did for lengthy stretches. And so without Ishnan's knowledge, she had become a mate of Babeel and Babeel himself! CHAPTER 6 Then that city was named after its patron deity ‘Babeel’ And all the temples for deities other than him were abolished Be they in the name of his wife- be they in the name of his offspring His hideous face adorned the facade of each new temple The sexless statues set up to imitate him were daily venerated Despite the inward disgust that nasty temple aroused, people flocked to them and offered prayers and libations Debauchery, each household endorsed with enthusiasm great and each male head of the family impersonated lord Babel Neither the terror brought by the Daab nor by the destruction it brought could reduce their devotion toward the Muarij Somewhat slighted though the other Murj were, chiefly the head son Lughanshesh and the wife Nunma, yet before their king they uttered not a single word and neither of the two conspired against him in private Bolund, the first born of Babeel undermined for both his lower pedigree as a half Vanaran child added to his physical impairment, was inflamed and sought to either bring himself to an honorable place amidst that lot Or cause entirely the Muarij clan to fall No situation appeared to him as a well-meaning portent than the time when Bolund learnt of his father seeking the alliances of mortal women. The one race to which he attributed his disgrace now caused him to abandon all virtue and seek courtship with them. Yet no mortal woman was to accept him in the form he originally had; hideous and otherworldly, akin to a hell dwelling Rakshas. A priestess she was of one of his temples, an adherent to the abhorrent customs of Babeel's worship Who oft spent her nights calling out to him in soft tones and hymns And oft spent her mornings at her home shrine built in his name Genuflected with clasped hands ‘Babeel lord mine, I wish to depart from this world, so come to me in thy avian guise and lift me upon thy comely wings, so both thee and I can be together Thou as muse mine and I as thy devotee!’ And that night Bolund had a waking dream in which came to him perhaps an angel though he could not be sure, but it was human faced in white raiment And this angel’s smooth skin Bolund felt palpable And when this character stretched his hand to help Bolund on his feet and for a moment mended his long hurt pride And the angel unto the blacksmith spoke ‘Oh Bolund, one of the very few Murj whose heart is susceptible to my words To thee I deliver this message and to thee I leave to decide what ye must do with it Within thy immortal clan shall come the one who although born of thee, shan't be of thy kin And we give thee this message, when the time comes waiver not from your resolve to replicate him For his frame, despite the human composition, would prove to be a formidable one indeed’ And most abruptly the said character had vanished and most abruptly Bolund awoke, This strangest dream, the mere fragments of which had made upon him a lasting impact, Was to bring upon the Unholy Brood, woe And soon Bolund learnt of Babeel's descent to his namesake city, near the house of she that had long eulogized him and asked for his company And to her he had appeared in the form she had desired, in an avian guise As an eagle he made her window lattice his perch and when to that eagle form she became attached His visits to her increased and the son Lughanshesh had caught wind of it and admonished his father albeit softly ‘Do you feel misplaced when you are with mother mine? Why do you now try to mingle with mortals when for long you've abhorred them? No fruit would result from this union save decrepitude of highest form! So leave this new found friendship with that temple's priestess and I won't take my complaints to mother!’ ‘Hush lad! Hush! Hush! You have not seen that wondrous priestess Her skin shines in the sunbeams and when she has been hot too long, her sweat beads show like pearls Aye, indeed it is truly an amazing creation, none with them in beauty can compete I have long tried to dismiss these plans of perching regularly upon her lattice while she places a waterbowl for me to drink from, most innocently But we both know son mine, that curse upon me has made me infertile No offspring of any kind will come to me from natural liaison and I am forever to bring issues purely out of my ownself, so what are your grievances?’ ‘My grievances are not what sons or daughters you father, rather it's your resolve to hurt mother! All temples that stand now are in your name alone You they call the master of men and the husband of women yet to you they attribute traits of both she and he In these endeavours you have left mother most lonely!’ ‘Aye, I have abolished all temples true, it's cause I seek to unify the entire murj kind within the singular banner called Babel For that too is the city's name and that too their god. They understand not a god who is beyond their human comprehension For they understand not that God is fathomless, so they seek a god who is both man and woman yet neither Therefore to me they turn to for prayer And you argue with me over my intentions which are nothing but pure. I go to her only because she calls upon me.’ ‘And I have no doubt that she will leap off a hill once your nature to her becomes clear. You she calls solely to fulfill her priestly duties at night, And by morning to show the temple's patrons and attendees that indeed her faith in you is true But if you go to her in the form which we are to keep veiled from their mortal eyes It won't fare well!' And indeed the words of Lughanshesh were true, for when one day before that woman Babeel appeared in his true form She collapsed with fright and by mistake Babeel hurled upon her his terrible weapon. She had died of course, but her child lived, Babeel took the wailing infant and fled to his lair. The spectators in the woman’s town had seen the hideous monster (whom they did not know) and took it for some devil And the tale of the young woman became popular. They called her a one who cohabited with demons And her disrepute spread far As for Babeel The swaddled infant he brought into his lair And all eyed him with confused eyes 'How is it possible' they all asked, But to that question none had the answer! 'Little cherub but unwinged, He is beautiful father- truly! He shall join the fellowship of the angels!’ And though Babeel despised all in heaven With that compliment of Lughanshesh he could not deny Lughanshesh said ‘he shall be to me a brother and I shall love him the same!’ And Babeel said to him ‘you speak too kindly for one of my kin!’ But Lughanshesh, though forgetting not his father's indiscretions Excused him just this once And taking the baby from his hesitant father Took him to Nunma, who refused to set eyes upon 'the unholy infant' 'Mother, hold no grudge against this little one, for he is innocent and heaven sent Don't you see mother, he is unlike us all, Mortal and lovely, not a demi murj or partial human, but wholly manlike! It's a miracle mother! A miracle indeed! I entreat you to take him as a son too And you can inveigh at father's morals all you like! When from heaven our lot was banished- I have learnt father took an oath For bearing a lifetime of shame in exchange for abilities to deviate man And now in this family of muarij has come a child not from us!’ ‘Stop it Lughanshesh! Stop it! Take him away before I remind you of that infant's place By running a knife through his throat!’ ‘Quiet Nunma! You shall do no such thing! And to ensure his safety I shall have him well guarded by a powerful force Of both the green maidens and the vulture boys! They shall girdle his cradle night and day And you shall concoct no schemes to end his life!’ Then Babeel took the child from Lughanshesh and walked away ‘I have no interest in slaying that mortal spawn! But hear this Babeel and hear this well Just as you have caused me sadness, Likewise you shall feel sorrow too! As I have been wounded by one dearest to me You too shall be wounded by one dearest to you! And as I weep for you, you too shall weep for him!’ ‘You curse us Nunma? Why do you go so far? Have you no forgiveness?!’ ‘I wish not to hear noble words from the mouth of one so maligned! Leave and take with you this vile child And never show me again your face!’ Then Babeel left and Lughanshesh stayed behind with his mother The one Murj alone, Lughanshesh, who beheld the boy with instant love Under his mother's councils turned to loathe the boy The boy whom Babeel named Jami! For Jami, Babeel employed great protection. The Vanaras who had survived the war, though Babeel thought them dead, continued to conspire And they sent their titans once again to harm Babeel They took the infant well protected in a forest by Khidrun Nisa and brought them to their masters. The infant was not spared and when the news reached his father, He was shattered. He wept and wept and to this day is weeping. And on that day did Babeel realize, that the curse of Aleph upon him Had been fructified via the words of his wife Nunma. The Titans of the Vanaras had come and taken the infant Used his heart as fuel to power a certain device of theirs When Babeel caught wind of it, a great battle had been waged between Asaras and the Vanaras But the little Jami was gone. The tribe of Babeel won as they were certain to win And Babeel bound the titans with the same chains they had used for the binding of Daab And the Titans were trapped in the tier of Irkalla where the immortals could venture! The child’s heart had been used as seed to incubate within the womb of Babeel’s trusted she-serpent, Naak For he trusted no other female of any species. Jami had emerged once again, and the newborn this time was given under the care of Ishnan. And once again the boy was killed, Once again in the most brutal manner! And Jami’s heart this time he placed in Irkalla. A puppet was created who would endorse the heart of Jami And that puppet is believed to have escaped! But Babeel never saw the face of his son again And Babeel developed toward all mortals a greater hatred. The city's name was Babeel and their god's name was now Baal. Before the mountain pediment, above a surfeit of oak, wills and hazel along which a river gushed forth from a rock which rose up like a wall, They erected a monumental statue of their king. Who was it then, it was hard to tell. For it was neither a man nor a woman, or maybe both. A hermaphroditic deity, with one hand raised and holding a corn The other holding a pine staff and drooped downward. Above his head a discus crown with seven points; the seven rays of the sun And behind him a serpent wound sea shell. The deity who embodied their gods Babeel, Jami, Ishnan, the union of all three. The Herald of dawn. The nourisher of crops. The endower of progenitive powers. He who dwells in the skies at dawn, On earth during afternoon, And in the waters at night. He who dies and is resurrected and to him the babes are given at birth. They were left upon impoverished grounds overnight for selection and They who survived till morn were allowed to grow to adulthood. For they had been chosen by their triple gods; The father, the son and the mother. And late Jami's lore acquired many ears and his tale (some true, some false) Grew amidst the followers. Ah! The great lord Jami. He who died a brutal death and returned to teach man the art of crop breeding, And he rides the ferry that transfers the deceased to heaven. Babeel desired this culture grow even more notorious. 'More infants!' He'd yelled. 'More infants must be cast into the fire! More infants must be sacrificed to me! Ah, these loath mortals, utterly foolish, now I shall go to them and make flesh my touting before Aleph! If my babe from me was stolen, then no human should have the bliss of offspring. I shall erect a monument in my image. Fill it with red hot embers and bloat the belly with supple flesh of newborns! Those parents will wail in agony! Every mortal cry shall embody terrible anguish, And we here shall witness it.' Then to the human lands he went guised as their king. Mounted the throne, placed the crown upon his head and was relentless in maligning the already corrupted doctrines. Each word of the king who is god's shadow on earth was heeded with utmost devotion And the city's centre upon barren ground under the region of the sky Where the crescent moon showed, Baal's statue in tough iron was made In several sheets, hollowed inside, punctured with several huge holes about the circumference of the belly which was filled, as Babeel planned With embers and at night, torches were thrown inside and the embers set alight. The device's belly smouldered. Despite their hesitancy upon the king's orders, the parents' cast their newborns into the belching, fiery belly. It came out of the nostrils as a terrible bellow which raged in the city night long. The younger ones, to come after the first born, suffered their own tragedies. Afforded terrible fates by Babeel's cruel interventions The temples of the triple deity were set up everywhere. Female babes were offered for whoring under the guidance of sibyl And the male infants given for emasculation to be the protectors of the young harlots. Only the poor were to deliver their children to that monstrous device, for the kings and their counsel were ever thriving upon these terrible customs And were allowed to brim their homes with courtesans! No longer did the bard's music and stories amuse the nobility, For ignoble pleasures were far more enticing to them and under Babeel's perversion of human customs The elite were truly depraved. And this corruption all the celestial beheld lamenting gravely, And lamented even greatly the time Babeel was given kingship of his own kind.

Picture 12 Ishnan holds a deceased Jami. BOOK THREE (How Yashtan was made and his dealings in Irkalla) CHAPTER ONE No longer did sculpting appeal Babeel And he longed to apply the craft he had newly conceived If he were to fashion one to resemble mortal make then best he used his skills to it. He took a flask well rounded at the bottom with water set to imitate the temperature of the human body And adding his own essence to it sought to find a unique womb as its incubator. He sought Ishnan and looked for her long. He travelled throughout the earth and awaited her on shores. It was a mere coincidence when he saw her long hair in waves on the waters surface And she had hesitated to meet him Yet when she found him anxious she appeared before him. And he spoke to her ‘A single glimpse I caught of your lustrous blue hair, That mingles with water like sheer and shehad , Only a malak can segregate that delectable pair, Akin to that pair are you, to late Jami dear! Insepearable! Wandering wanton, ambly or with staggering gait, Your demeanor like an empress of the oceans deep, and your slender neck swan-like, Can borrow for all your indiscretions, indemnity. What do you ponder, lovely Ishnan? Why do you brood in your solemn coursing, either barefoot or in a car held aloft by cherubims? For only they can contest with your innocence. Shedding tears of amber and perfumes wrested from sweet Adonis flower, Tell me where you go now, and why do you not see me eye to eye? Be not ashamed for despite what Babeel thinks, I know you were not an accomplice in Jami’s brutal passing! For even though your dulcet songs can subdue the wildest beasts, I know you did not exercise your power because you were unaware of what trampled him!’ Despite enraged by his words, she curbed her anger and looked away ‘Bolund, I wish to not commune with either you or your father! I know you come to goad me with facile speech and trouble me by arousing guilt! You start with words of amity and end by scathing my wounds, Which will never heal, my grief is like my bloody prints stretching from Hind to Meros, For snow will bury them, but they linger underneath, And when the warm sun shines its cruel rays upon it, the snow will melt but the prints return! Neither swift torrents nor titanic tides wash them away, So trouble me not and return to your abode with whatever artifice you seek to employ on me, Whatever you have within that flask, I will not accept it. ‘Ah Ishnan, you have become perceptive I see, tis indeed a flask with a little gift, With a little of me and a little of Jami since we come from a common father And I require now a little of you!’ ‘I refuse! Whatever it is you want! I will not give it to you! So return and entice me no more. Whether in that flask is the essence of Jami or any other This is our parting, farewell Bolund for we will never speak again!’ And Bolund rushed to stop her And cajole her into doing as he pleased! ‘You his mate of all season of the year, and his protector from evils, From Nak’s amnion you wrested him to care on your own, and took him as his mother own, You they claimed as not a lover alone, but a nurturing carer too, Virginal and holy, plump breasted but not nursing, Out of regard for your own maidenhood and Babeel’s love for Jami’s late mother, Within this vessel stays essence of Jami, one I extracted from his aged chunk of hair, Long locked within a secret coffer in my forge, Isolated his semi mortal strands, cooled them and segregated their tenacious coils, Toiled to make an extract that could wring from this, one of identical make, Fashioned in the image of Jami, but requires a mother’s womb, To allow to grow into a human-like babe and also preserve your maidenhead I will take this babe and never will I torture you by setting your eyes upon it, And give this promise that he will be a child of goodly make and a man to live many years ahead, And give this promise that him I will not allow to be wrested from life by Aleph I feel for him a paternal affinity and quick images of a splendid life flash before my mind. Nay I do not soothsay rather speak earnestly from the heart My breast swells with love and speaks the truth, forever your name with him will stay attached, While mine will be lost to posterity. Yours and his will linger, like lovers and mother and child, Asherah you and him Adonai ! ‘Nay Bolund, with this I cannot comply For I have learnt how to overcome my tremendous grief And I shed those amber tears no longer! Whatever you have in that flask; be it boon or bane, I shan’t take it! Seek elsewhere for the fulfillment of your wish, I will not be complicit in what you hope to accomplish!’ Hearing these words, disappointed Bolund cajoled her further But she repeatedly said ‘exhort me not toward such a deed I have told you have I not? Such actions of yours which go against nature, They would cause naught but trouble!’ He watched her walk upon the water, and engulfed entirely by the tide. Moments later he watched her shell move away swiftly from the shore. She had indeed acquired great control over herself No longer did she weep as fervently as before Nor did she stagger with the delirium of endless grief, The paleness which had replaced the rosy quality of her cheeks In those days of sorrow had passed. She had regained the semblance of her former composure. But more than the changes that had come to her, The failure of the task at hand concerned him ‘Who other of the Da’ab’s kin am I to look for now? Only a womb of a unique quality can cause this seed to grow. Alas! My efforts have been in vain again, I shall have to repair to my forge and pursue the same method Which for Jami I had employed!’ Then he lifted the flask against the moon And through the glint of light at the small specks floating within the container ‘I shall use you however, You shan’t be left entirely useless!’ He returned to his abode and without delay charged the hearth The incongruent shadows wrought upon the walls by the flickering flames Narrated the tale of how Bolund worked to bring another being. Had Bolund known the stature of the one he endeavored to create Had he known the adventures that would cling like medallions upon his breast-plate, Had he the knowledge the same as the Weavers’ Or even a fraction of that of the Sages’, Or the lonesome Wanderer of the caves, the former member of the sages, The craftsman’s hands would have moved either with haste Or they would have ceased to move altogether; He’d have forgone the task right there, Quieted the flames that would make permanent the clay skin, And left his equipments in the forge, to never be used again; But Bolund knew naught except fragments of an ancient dream Those too, much maligned by later events which took hold upon his mind. So Bolund proceeded to do as he wished. The earth he mixed with water and smoothened to a paste. Flat sheets upon the hot anvil were further flattened, struck repeatedly with the hammer. He set up the bellows, let the iron melt, He took several blobs of clay and chisel to fashion strong limbs He worked vigorously at nights and set out during the day to obtain materials for his project. He took the white swan feathers and the pitch black from the raven. He isolated the perfumes from Ishnan’s amber tears and Adonis flower And the pearls left in the track of her coursing shell. He took the amethysts, The golden tail of Uchaishravas (which Babel in vain had kept hidden), The lustre from Lughanshesh’s helmet, The Haoma from the single rill of Kshirsagar flowing earthward, The corals from the reef. When he had collected all that he needed He worked nightlong and daylong. Many suns rose and set and many a waxing moons bloomed. Bolund mixed and made more clay, structured the strong body. Wrapped the malleable sheet of clay upon the entire frame. Thrust the rounded pieces of amethyst into the white orbs (and made the eyes) Set the teeth with pearls. The black hair and beard speckled with strands of golden horse tail The torso chiseled., the veins carved. The skin he painted with light brown and orange hues, And the veins with greenish blue tints. With the heated tongs he pinched the pliable nose and lips to make them shapelier. He isolated the white from the swan feathers, the black from the raven feathers to intensify the colors. The nails he imbued with lustre and prepared fully the new man! Lughanshesh arrived to meet Bolund and his new toy The deep forge was empty, embers were still aglow The charred dust and handprints were blotted about the walls and the floor Bolund’s wheel tracks were apparent. Black and white feathers, artificial golden threads, flickered with the gusts that entered. The door to Bolund’s room was held ajar and through it’s edges peeped an incandescent beam. The glow was nearly blinding but the murj resisted. When he pushed the door open, he gave a small, painful cry. The hot light filled the room, as if he encountered The fires of Irkalla or the sunrays upclose. ‘What sorcery is this Bolund? Come out and soften this glow, I cannot take it!’ ‘Aye! Is it not brilliant?’ Bolund stood before the light source ‘You’ll go blind! Blind! If you keep staring at it! Whatever it is, this orb of light or lamp, Enshroud it! Throw a cloak over it! It’s too much for me! Do you wish to injure my eyes?’ ‘Nay! Tis no lamp nor orb. Let go of the rampart you’ve made with your hands before your eyes And behold the glory of what stands before us!’ Picture 13 Lughanshesh and Bolund look on at Bolund's magnificent creation. ‘Why do you look so content with hurting your eyes? Tis akin to the shine of a malak’s sword, or the light of it’s wing! Have you settled so easily to this discomfort? Tis because you stare all day into the flames of your hearth in a dark cave, But I do not!’ Then Bolund threw a mantle over the light source, Hoisted it upon a cart and accosted Lughanshesh ‘Open your eyes and come hither brother mine!’ ‘What was that monstrous light?’ ‘Come!’ Then Bolund pushed the cart into a declivity, Pulled down a black veil before the bright object To reduce the overwhelming radiance and removed the mantle. Lughanshesh gasped and Bolund frolicked anxiously. ‘I knew you’d be short of words brother, Even though your job dictates you speak with tremendous facility. Is it not a perfect creation?!’ And on the last two words he impressed heavily. Lughanshesh, who though arrested by both the art and the artistry, Admonished Bolund. ‘What have you done, foolish smith? Do you wish to have your throat squeezed within father’s grasp? Or do you wish to be hurled headlong down this mountain summit to be crippled further? What have you done and why have you done it? Why can you not leave Jami dead for good?’ ‘Aye! Is it not the perfect copy? How aptly I have captured the youthful innocence Slightly inlaid with the captivating allure of maturity. How I’ve taken the lean frame and added more depth and dimension. How artfully I have sharpened the adolescent cuts. Am I not the most ideal craftsman ever? Ah! My hands, as if I’ve been gifted all the divine talent of the angels from Aleph’s forge! See the cold glimmer of his eyes, I’ve set them in real amethysts; For a detachment that is seductive and otherworldly, But thrust within an orb of clay to keep him grounded to his mortal reality. See the sparkle of his teeth, I’ve set them in the choicest pearls; Despite all pearls of Ishnan be flawless, I selected the ones I deemed best of that lot as well. And the lustre of the entire frame, I’ve secured it with the golden strand of Uchaishravas. Tell me then, can anyone contend with me in skill? Can you? Can father? Can anyone of the Vanara? Nay! None!’ ‘Nay, Bolund! No one has ever doubted the greatness of your skill, But this infraction father will not ignore. You seek to scathe his wounds, father will punish you severely for it. How could you dare to attempt such a feat, Despite knowing well the severity of his wrath?!’ ‘We sought to make one comelier than the comeliest mortals; One whose beauty could vie with the best appearance any immortal can assume, But who more beautiful amongst the female kind than the mother of Jami And who more beautiful amongst the male kind than her son, Jami. But he was also a brother to us, and the phantom of his memories haunt me still. How brutal were the tortures upon him, And how great the ways he reemerged! So sweet was that voice, and so soft the words. So pristine his beauty and so sublime the beating of his undying heart! How much grief his passing brought and how revered he is amongst all! To this day the questions teem my mind; Was he truly meant to be a mere child to father? Or was he one with a purpose; to engender endless woe in father? Was he truly as benevolent as he seemed, Or was he hiding a one very malevolent soul? What to do when such are my thoughts? No other visage could I render when I held that mass of mud. My hands molded those features without my intervention And I allowed them to do as they pleased. Its almost as if such was fate, For this time, even the flames sought to perfect him, rather than to disfigure him. And so he stands before you.’ Bolund noticed not how his speech lit anew the flame of envy in the heart of Lughanshesh But he was instantly recaptured by the perfection of Bolund’s craft. ‘I cannot deny, you’ve truly captured every aught of him with immense mastery. I hesitate but it feels almost like a godly work. Regardless, father will be furious.’ ‘Then I have you to protect me, do I not?’ Bolund sniggered and between the brothers two a tacit agreement was reached. But Babeel when informed about the new construction said ‘I will come but I wish not to see its face. I will give it my essence but I wish not to see it come to life. Get the deed done, and train it to be sharp of mind. Order it to be quick to slay the scornful queen. I wish not to get involved in petty matters.’ And so Babeel and his children entered Bolund’s forge And Bolund greeted them with his invention upon a cart Face veiled from Babeel- with this Bolund was happy to oblige For if Jami’s face ignited the wrath of Babeel, Bolund would not have been spared. When upon the veiled figure, the immortals set eyes They said ‘Why are we to lend our essence to this thing? Is it not just another vulgar conception of this cunning cripple’s mind?’ ‘Silence!’ Bellowed Babeel, And turning to Bolund and said ‘What if it turns against us?’ ‘He won’t father, but if he does I’ll have you know, He is like any other mortal and is therefore prone to the wear of age and disease. I hold the key to his life and when needed can lend it to you. So if such an occasion occurs and he deviates from his path I know how to stop him.’ The immortals assembled about a clay bowl Into which Bolund added a Haoma drop. The first to come was Kether; punctured a finger and gave his essence Enriched the concoction with a heightened sense of nobility, And a power to cast illusions and spells. Then came Chokma; punctured a finger and gave his essence Enriched the concoction with some wisdom, And a power to control fire transiently. Then came Geburah; punctured a finger and gave his essence Enriched the concoction with his strength, And the power to mold earth without touching. Then came Chesed (short and stout); punctured a finger and gave his essence, Enriched the concoction with his cunning, And the power to solidify water. Then came Hod; punctured a finger and gave his essence, Enriched the concoction with blinding splendor, And the power to twist the sun’s rays. Then came Tiphareth who gave his beauty. Then came Yesod who gave his vitality. Then came Lughanshesh who gave his speed and intellect. And one by one all stepped forward and added a drop within the mixture. So many were the immortals that they filled Bolund’s forge And crept into every crevice and crater of the mountain. When all had added their essence, in walked Babeel, Still averse to the veiled visage, pricked himself and Contributed the last drop to the concoction. Bolund stirred the mixture, placed it on the potter’s wheel and turned it. To the single vein of the doll in the dark corner, was attached a pipe with a minute pore Through which the mixture was pumped into it. Bolund doffed the veil of his face though before he could see it, Babeel left the forge and repaired to his dwelling. All watched Bolund’s creation come alive; The mixture through his coiled vein pulsed, The dull skin acquired freshness. Bolund, excited, watched with quivering lip and twitching fingers. Then the container was emptied but the doll stood still. Bolund almost tripping over his chair, chanted madly ‘Ma merickha lahm homo ! Ma merickha lahm homo!’ The air was still in the forge, but through the doll’s nostrils, the first puff of life emerged. Then they watched his chest pulled inward Then they watched his chest pushed outward. He heaved and opened his eyes. The first emanated son of Babeel; Pandemonium, upheaved the air outside Summoned the entire immortal lot inside and said ‘Behold the man!’ Bolund wheeled before the oblivious newborn, Poked his skin to check its suppleness ‘Behold, Yashtan!’ ‘Yashtan!’ all the Muarij gasped. ‘Behold, the one whose blood unites the entire Murj kind! Behold Yashtan the strong! Yashtan the mighty!’ Lughanshesh raised a brow then dismissed the immortal assembly. Much resistance was done but the muarij left when Lughanshesh gave a censorious look. ‘Its quite a man Bolund. Quite a man indeed, But lifeless too. Look at his eyes; Dull as death!’ Bolund was furious ‘This is all that we need. He can function as any other mortal!’ ‘Aye! But you claimed to outdo the Malaika in smithy, But never can depth supercede the cosmetics of your work! Its beautiful true, but lacks divinity!’ Then affronted Bolund, after the messenger’s departure, Realized a flaw in the man Yashtan; his eyes failed to receive the Haoma The knotted vein had clogged and delivered naught to the stone orbs. Another meeting with Lughanshesh, who once again slighted the blacksmith Claimed Yashtan was nothing save a puppet. Blind Yashtan, roamed about his maker’s abode, Groping his equipment, and often injuring himself. Another meeting with Lughanshesh, caused the craftsman further distress. He claimed that in Bolund’s creation, Babeel was disappointed. Scowling Bolund accosted his brother ‘Leave lousy messenger! Leave bringer of bad news! At least I try to help your cause despite your opprobrium. You deserve that Alakapuri queen! She treats you rightly by scowling at the lot of you, For they who try to aid you, you give them nothing but distress! Leave!’ Lughanshesh guffawed and left, But Bolund took the insults to heart. One day Yashtan surprised him and for the first time, spoke ‘Father! You are my father are you not?’ Teary eyed, Bolund clasped his hand and nodded ‘Aye! I am!’ ‘Then tell me, are all men blind? Are you blind as well?’ Bolund shook his head and said ‘Nay! Not all men are blind!’ ‘But what is blindness? Is it the darkness of the eyes, Or the darkness of the mind?’ ‘I believe it is the darkness of the heart!’ ‘And how do you clear the darkness of the heart!’ ‘I believe one must roam the earth and seek knowledge!’ ‘Then I wish to roam the earth as well And gain enlightenment which I cannot just sitting here!’ Then Bolund was convinced of Yashtan’s intelligence and worked hard to establish for him artificial sight Although he had imagined it would not work, yet it did and Yashtan was released from Bolund’s forge and to roam the earth as he pleased. CHAPTER TWO Yashtan travelled upon the lands callously His great strength enabled him to uproot the trees To wrestle sharks and elephants His swift feet enabled him to win against the horses None could compete with him in archery And in throwing projectile, his exceeded the throw of veteran sportsmen in trajectory He was appealing to men and women alike And broke many hearts during his travel, For these pining lovers were unaware that he was unable to requite their feelings. When he stopped on Carthassian shores Madness had touched their native women; Each could subdue a lion yet Yashtan overpowered them in a crowd Their cowering men had resorted to hiding in the mountain, Yet many had been killed And those living sought refuge with Yashtan. ‘Why are they so enraged?’ He’d asked. And they’d respond ‘We are as oblivious as you, strong one! 'Save a few stories that tell us of Jami's arrival. He played the flute and his music maddened them.' Then Yashtan played his own flute, but unlike his other talents, This one did not entrance his listeners. 'The animals came down from the hills. The Muarij would linger close. The angels would descend to the lowest heavens. The animals of the oceans would swim to the surface, Such were the tunes churned by Jami's flute!' But Yashtan's music was far from euphoric. And when one day he sat by the lonely shore, Practicing his tunes, he saw a feminine frame, in flowing watery drapery. Her blue hair clung onto her and she glided against the shallow tides toward Yashtan and said 'You shine like the north star Or like a malak in human form from afar! Where are your wings? For your shoulders seem to me an embassy for them! In the heavens environs I deem you fly!

Picture 14 Ishnan comes to guide Yashtan. Your feet should touch the carpet of clouds Not the dust of earth. Ah! Your lustre is reminiscent of an old friend's who lives beyond yonder stars. Your goodly face just like his. You do not belong in this country, Yet here I see you like a lonesome faun.’ And Yashtan said 'Comely undine or seductive witch, Do you wish to lure me into the water with articulate speech? Or do you come to inspire me as a muse? Who ensnares young musicians into love traps? Then that that too is an endeavor failed!' 'Nay! I come neither as a muse nor a seductress! I come as a friend! You play talented tunes but they are not evocative. They show the sun but capture not it's sultry rays. They show the moon but capture not it's sensuous light. Nor the allure of coy morning transfiguring into sinful night! There is a story but no cadence. There is music but no pain. There is a breast but no heart. There is a body but no soul.' 'You speak the truth. I am indeed as hollow as you claim. But I am told that is apt for what I am to do!' 'And what is it that you're apt to do? Do you come from Bolund's forge?' 'Aye! I do!' 'Then it is as I'd thought. He had come to ask me of a service which I declined. For I devoutly dote upon he who you so resemble. A young lad who died many years past. Jami his name.' 'Who is this Jami who everyone speaks of with various emotions? Many a times his name was spoken with either excessive fondness or excessive envy! Tell me more about him if indeed a friend you be, oh Ishnan.' 'For his sake, the living travelled to hell's plains, Even his mother who seized by the labor pains of the fiery seed of Babeel growing within her caused her premature death, He still came crying out of her corpse! Such a child he was, entered the world with feyness And the candle lit in his name flickered and extinguished The weavers of fate need not even start his tapestry for such was the short first life ordained him. His blood brought plague Blighted the crops Even the maggots dared not near his corpse. Yet when Aleph granted him more lives, Jami's touch was imbued with abundance. When he sat upon a white feather, it reflected green in his shade. When he touched the barren land, it sprouted vegetation. Wine gushed forth from furrows in the rocks. The tempests cleared when he set foot near them. The ailing were cured. The people wreathed him in vine and adorned him with garlands Of anemone, jasmine and hyacinth. As if a Yaksha's spirit resided within him. So blessed was his presence that the wounded were healed, The heartbroken were mended, The surly became overjoyed, The saddened became happy. Childless couples welcomed their newborns. Teats of emaciated cows swelled with milk. The horses spent with fatigue sped far. The camels' dried humps were replenished. In a distant land whose wild natives deemed him alien Sought to attack him, but he spoke to them in their tongue one he acquired the instant he set eyes on them. He turned their crudeness to civility. Introduced laws and governance. He taught them modesty and soft speech, arts and music. He taught them ointment making with oleaginous plants, The art of preparing poultice and how to boil the herbs;Just enough to convert their poison to medicine.

Picture 15 Jami enlightening a savage group of people. He left them a better people and travelled elsewhere. To newer plains and uncharted territories. When people saw him working miracles with his staff, They claimed it surpassed the Lugh in prowess, To which Jami had said 'Affiliate not wicked serpents with my staff For it is imbued with God's blessings and not a sorcerer's tricks!' Not many know beyond Jami's two unnatural deaths and births but now you know of a third!' 'Quite an entertaining tale indeed, But it serves me not. What I must do now is to travel to Alakapur in the east. If you desire to aid me then transport me to those shores. So I may perform the task I've been ordered to do!' 'I would gladly have you on my flying cart or floating shell and let you travel with them But my vessels are devoted only to me and allow occupation by none but me. But aye, I won't part with you without bestowing a gift! Here!' And she directed the sirens to bring to him a tough boat. 'This boat will take you to your destination! If Alakapur you seek, Then to Alakapur you shall go!' Then Ishnan disappeared into the waters and Yashtan mounted the boat she gifted him. Indeed he needed not to propel it for it steered wherever his eyes looked and his mind willed. But halfway through his ocean faring, the waters became restless The tides crashed upon his vessel His boat was toppled over and Yashtan was tossed far away Though a skilled swimmer, the waves overpowered him and he was pulled inward by vacuum then thrown to the surface again. He'd nearly drowned, but a warp opened above the ocean The clouds disappeared and darkness covered the sky A storm brewed within the water and rose up like a pillar ascending heavenward. Both Yashtan and his boat were sucked within that conduit between water and sky and cast upon alien shores. Yashtan had lost consciousness for some time, but when he regained his faculties He found himself upon a canoe, which travelled on a narrow rill between two stretches of dark wood. The canopy of webbed branches, skinny boughs and low hanging vines was a view he'd never seen before A plaintive lullaby was being sung without a moment’s pause And though there was no light, Yashtan could see all. There were no colors when he woke up, but as he rode deeper into the redundant forest, the dismal tract acquired hues And as the colors became vibrant, the sorrowful tunes dimmed and then were gone. The boat stopped near a rock and Yashtan stepped out. As he had nowhere else to go, he walked ahead with caution. On the deep furrows of the rocks he stood upon, the shadows faded as a light approached He turned and saw an old man. White skinned but green haired. His clothes were green too. His thick beard was knotted and looked like a tuft of leaves. The hair on his head was sparse but evenly distributed. He wore bracelets and garlands. He held a golden coffer the lid of which, though closed, still issued fragrant fumes. They rose up and formed a thin veil before the old man's face. His gaze was fixed but not stern. It was a welcoming gaze, So when he looked at Yashtan, the latter felt at ease. 'Old man, where am I?' 'You are in Irkalla!' He replied. Yashtan was shocked and he gasped. 'How is that possible?' 'I called you out and you responded! You are Yashtan, are you not? The one who comes from the forge of the master smith. Yashtan, the one whose very name means all powerful, One imbued with the essence of all the ones who claim divinity... Your stature lends credibility to your name. I am Akhdar Masih; Aide of the dead, Guide of the living. And of you...well we shall soon learn. Come!' 'Nay! I do not know you and I seek to quit this dismal scape! Tell me how to exit this realm!' 'For that you'll have to come with me.' 'Where are you taking me?' 'To a nice place, be sure of that.' The old man held Yashtan's hand and guided him through the darkness Like a father aiding his wayward son Lighting the path with the glow of his coffer and his own person. Though for Yashtan the tortures of hell had been veiled, still he could perceive the terrible cries and the dim images of the brutal devices. Some of those cries perturbed Yashtan, but Akhdar Masih advised him to look away. 'You did not come here as a mistake. The oceans were in a tumult because the creatures of the deep were restless when you boarded the boat. They had all been instructed prior to your coursing To contrive and bring you to Irkalla!' 'Who instructed them?' 'Aleph! The God of all! The great Architect of the universe!' 'Why does he want me here? Am I to be imprisoned in hell Even though I have yet to sin!' 'Nay, that is not his plan!' CHAPTER THREE The scene around them changed to a picturesque vista. Akhdar Masih took Yashtan to an open garden with three wells About each of the three, were seated the same three men Yashtan thought his eyes deceived him for when he blinked there was one well and when he blinked again, there were three. 'Do not be perplexed, your eyes play no games for those orbs cannot comprehend this view.' There was just the one well and around it An old man; gaunt and severe, A young adult, And one adolescent. Each of them scribbled vigorously on parchments allotted to them And ink blots and wasted quills were lying about on the floor. When Yashtan stepped before them he was joyously greeted by the old man. 'Ah! Welcome! Welcome! Welcome! Long have we awaited your arrival Hero of our lore. Come sit, make yourself comfortable. We are the three sages, holy scribes. Divine beings.' And the old man was as if, suddenly seized by a trance and began to speak at length 'I had ensconced beside a holy well Urged that a sacred doctrine be written by an elephant headed visitor. Nearly eight thousand verses of mysterious lore my mind conjured And a great many by his Spread it far to cities, speaking the tales of ancient battles fought Of gods and men, Of holy and the unholy, Of the first born and the twice born, And of the one who bore many others. In the name of characters I thus wrote My disciples will worship generously Melted butter, holy fire, libations of wine, seething serpents, beauteous goddesses and gods divine But oh, I lament my deeds For my texts shall collect believers of the many form of the corrupted one. I'd have rendered reverent those who need admonishment. Ah! I'd have sinned, created a wayward lot of people Of disbelievers unwilling Sinning unwittingly behind the mask of staunch belief. Have I done it? Am I to be held accountable?' The sage continued to lament. Then Yashtan inquired Akhdar Masih 'You have said they have yet to be born, But he occasionally speaks of time past and not of one to come!' 'Aye, he does. You've discerned right. It is because time here has no control. Time who is egoistic and rapacious sets not foot there where he too is spent with fatigue. Past, present and future mingle here, Which is why your eyes saw a triptych of a single image when you first came. These are men who have yet to come, long after you have ceased to be. Even though their task involves imparting you certain wisdom, These are sages to be revered as holy mortals should be And not worshipped with an idolatrous devotion. Now see the one next to him, Holding an inkpot and a quill, The younger one with ginger hair.' Yashtan saw him, and spread upon the ground before him was a yellowed parchment Onto which he wrote an endless series of verses. He looked up at Yashtan and spoke 'Ah! You have come Yashtan. Though I shan't remember you on earth Save as a character of lore and oral tales

Picture 16 The three Sages; (from the left) Snorri, Vyasa, and Homer And not as Yashtan, rather in varied names When cultures will spread and man as he is now, limited on just two lands I shall be known as the tale teller of the west And this old one shall come before I in the east. He shall be the closest to the land you seek to travel to- Hind!' Then Yashtan inquired about their names and Akhdar Masih interposed. 'They have names but they are written in the Book. None can read from it save the Malaika. Their names will be known to them when they come on earth.' The third sage, the adolescent, looked up at Yashtan With a maturity great and an imperiousness which deceived his young frame. And spoke 'I see you have come, your arrival is written and of it we had been earlier informed We awaited your coming long. Great duty you will serve though you know it not, just like us Our task however is scribing. Yours is to make history worthwhile enough for us to write. I will be born to a nation of distinguished stature. A nation of nomads and settlers, of conquerers and law givers. Of a language hybrid borrowed from people past. And write of the immortals whose names I will alter to suit our lingual needs and which fit with their deeds. Of a people who will influence greatly global literature. Influence those who shall come after us.' Then Yashtan turned to Akhdar Masih and said 'I do not understand what it is they mean when they speak Of a battle I am to fight!' 'They speak of the great battle in which you will engage. We shall not conjecture on that battle's outcome for none of us knows the future But it will be of great significance A battle greater than any battle to occur later. It will enrich the books of future generations. These three and their disciples will depict its account in their own words and in their own epochs Transcribe it in ways to appeal to their people and add significance to its already redoubtable nature. They are historians, bards, singers and songwriters. They exist now in the age frame of their earthly descent. The oldest shall be the first to be born The younger shall follow him shortly And the youngest to be the last. We are you here to tell you Yashtan, that we know of the conflict that troubles you Your scruple says you should not kill one whom you know nothing of Yet the purpose dictated to you by Babeel and his clan says otherwise, But lament not, for that is not your purpose for yours is a purpose great, As is given to every mortal ever born, but in degrees yours ranks higher. Lest you wish to sit idle and do nothing of the life provided to you Judge then and judge wisely. Though you be made in the hearth of a murj, The life endowed to you is certainly divine.' A thin endless vine emerged from the centre of the wall and penetrated the clouds above. 'That is the vine of the Great tree which connects the sages to the Weavers.' Yashtan looked up, at the numerous clouds of soft pink and light blue, lilac and golden. An effeulgent beam peeped through their parting and angels hummed and sang there. They prayed incessantly Engaged in conversation Yashtan could not discern. 'What lies behind that rampart of clouds Akhdar Masih? Am I not allowed to enter that?' 'Nay! None are allowed to go beyond that region! For that is the abode of the wise one, One to come toward the end. To perfect man's knowledge for after him knowledge need not heighten further. He is protected now by a surfeit of angels, well cushioned by soft clouds, Even angels touch not his holy feet. He is one who adores Great Aleph with endless adoration. Whose love for Aleph with each moment increases. The sage of the sages. I know you've been troubled about your nature For they who made you, claim you are human and yet you do not feel like one. You seek to be fully mortal do you not? For your music has no soul. You have no dreams. Rights and wrongs rarely confuse you. Yet you are in disarray for having none of that!' 'Aye! That is true. But there is no cure for it!' 'Of course there is!' And Yashtan and Akhdar Masih were transported to blackness No aught of light save Akhdar Masih's glowing coffer. He undid the lid and a fragrant smoke effused from it. Akhdar Masih forced Yashtan to inspire them And though he resisted, the fumes sent sharp pulses through him. Which throbbed his extremities. There was a transient flash of light on his eyes and it subsided to linger as a faint glint upon his iris. 'What? What is this? I can feel everything!I do not understand! The sharp smells. The cold. The warmth. The insipid taste on my tongue. I feel so...' 'Alive! Indeed! For now this will do! Receiving it in morsels will be better!' 'What did you do to me?' 'I gave you a gift! I have long kept it secure within this container. Now a part of it I have given it to you. ' 'But what is it?' 'You'll learn soon! A gift from He who bestows His blessings upon all. Your birth was long ordained and I have waited for you for centuries. Now is your time to do that which you're meant to do!' 'Wait? What is it that I am meant to do? Why do you not answer me? What is this battle? Will it be a battle which the queen of Alakapur will wage against me? Or will it happen after I have killed her? I have so many questions so leave me not!' 'All answers will come to you in time. Do not worry for you are not alone!' And Akhdar Masih disappeared. Yashtan found himself covered in snow. Shivering at the pediment of Mt Meros. The fluvial stream of Jami river flowed before him. It moved with a calmness akin to the nature of Jami, Yashtan had come to know of Through the many people in his travels. BOOK FOUR (How Yashtan met Daibah)

Picture 17 Queen Daibah of Alakapur smoking the hookah. CHAPTER ONE 'Dearest queen sadly I must trouble you with news, Nothing distressing but a nuisance great! There roams about the city a charmer with his flute All day and all night; either shying away from the sun beneath a handsome tree's shade Or staring at the moonbeams while swooning men and women alike With his wondrous flute melodies! It's not that we cannot take care of a person so inconsequential Rather what has us appalled is that people desert their temples and shrines To travel far to where this flute player dwells And spend long hours mesmerized by him. We had chanced upon him once and he was a handsome youth.' Then the queen rose 'who is it that causes people mine to abandon worship? Catch him quick and throw him in jail, isolated! I do not wish to have such musicians roaming about aimlessly! And they who leave the temples to hear music Ask them what good would this occupation do them? Remind them that I am their queen! Remind them that regular worship ensures their city's safety! Go now and bring me news worth lending an ear to! I have already many troubles teeming in my mind. There is this case of bringing forth an issue, An heir that would secure my lineage after I'm gone! Foolish people with their foolish thoughts! Do they not know, unlike them I will never age! Unlike them I will never ail! Ah, however such a question has been put forth, And to appease their foolish minds is now my priority! Go and make an announcement! Bang the cymbals loud and blow the trumpets! Tell them to rejoice for their queen seeks a husband And for that purpose alone a contest shall be organized! A contest of archery! Checking both swiftness and strength! A contest meant as a mere ruse, with near impossible stages. Outwardly tis meant to filter the best of their unworthy lot But tis meant to dissuade any suitors from seeking my hand, For as soon as this announcement is made- all will deem themselves worthy of me And flock to the palace and seek this post of my husband But also announce the conditions; adverse and unjust! That he who falters at any one stage shall be publicly executed! Go now and make this announcement!' And the Queen’s men set out to make the announcement. They banged the cymbals and blew the trumpets And when an assembly was called the queen took a place upon the hill And thought it mandatory to tout her supremacy above them For that express reason she once again cast illusions Befouled the weather, conjured dark clouds, She contrived with her incantations to stir the firmament above Till it whirled and the clouds twined about each other The winds thrashed and beat above everything they contacted And rushed roaring to reach the sky Their swift ascent stunned all for a moment. The fire lit up on every candle and the queen's chalice filled with fuel raged with sparks She held it out and from it's smoke a form emerged, It gained a distinct shape and grew in size. She continued her chanting with greater zeal And the clouds followed the inflection of her voice. All were swooned by what had emerged from the candle's cumulative smoke A figure of a woman and a child, ‘This is I and my son!’ A ruse devised in order to dissuade the people from their expectations of the queen That she needed no husband to bring forth a son. When Yashtan saw what had conspired, amidst the crowd he yelled ‘Taghut ! Taghut! Taghut!’ In the crowd of people all wrapped in white raiment, she couldn't discern who yelled those words. In the pool of black and gray heads she earnestly sought the one! But when she found none she proceeded with her incantations. Once again Yashtan yelled ‘Taghut! Taghut! Taghut!’ Who is it that claims this to be ‘Taghut’? Come and make yourself clear! Whoever you maybe, coward. Poltroon, concealing yourself amidst a crowd of thousands. Come if you be brave enough to claim it individually! Come and ascend this hill and see me eye to eye, and speak your heart with clarity, Either you are blind, or your eyes have been blinded to reality! Come! Come you coward! Show yourself! ‘Why should I hide?’ Yashtan emerged from the crowd. Head and shoulders above all, Massive of built but not bulky, His chest could have smothered her pet lion with great ease. His arms could easily wrestle a Murj! When he ascended the steep hill, the Queen was in awe of his great beauty! But she was awash with pride and greatly affronted with his claims. ‘I am not scared of you, queen of Alakapur! But play not with the minds of your foolish subjects! You fight against the Muarij and cite the cause as their supreme pride in nothing, But what about yourself, you're equally deluded!' Then slighted Daibah scowled and uttered a few curses under her breath, Then to display her might she twisted the smoky frame into a staff, To be hurled upon the arrogant man! 'You dare to wag your tongue before me foolish man!' 'And why not? Heathen woman, sorceress undivine! What you and they see in that smoke is effulgence oozing out of every billow, While all I see a lifeless cloud of smoke! You shape it into various forms with mad magic and derange further their already deranged minds. What else can you do except be slighted now and cause my death? Can you kill me then bring me back to life? If you can then you need not even hurl this artificial staff upon me. I will plunge my own knife into my heart, and see if you are capable of such a feat! And if not then what? Oh you people, if I die right now, will this woman revive me? And if she fails to do so, will you give up this nonsensical worship? And if she does revive me, will you check the credibility of that action? Will you check if it is indeed a doll of flesh and blood and not one of her illusions?’ But when none in the crowd nodded in approval He turned to face the scowling queen 'Alas! As I had thought! Even these people claim you are not a true goddess? Then what are you? A pretender? A woman? A monster? Someone well versed in evil magic? Oh people of Alakapur, listen to me! This woman is an accomplice of Babeel! She comes to beguile you in the guise of your queen And introduces you to foul gods for deification! Why do you seek to lower yourselves in the eyes of all? Why do you eulogize her with grand epithets, none of which suit her? Aye! None save one! Queen of Alakapur, for she is that indeed! Queen of Alakapur, the mighty queen!’ Then one of her guards raised his voice ‘Queen,forsooth this is that flute player that has been swaying our youth! Himself an idle young man and causing others to abandon their occupation too! He is a madman, heed not his words for we will tell him his place By throwing him in a prison where he can practice silly tunes And attract the wanton and the wayward that will be his cellmates!’ And they fettered Yashtan who did not resist and took him away for imprisonment of a few days The queen however had stopped her incantations For she had been caught and her illusions had been declared publicly a farce! CHAPTER TWO When in prison he had spent a few days, he had learnt of the lukewarm nature of the punishments. The inmates were allowed in and out of prison when they wished to (although based upon the severity of their crimes) There was entertainment provided, there was goodly food provided. The queen was perhaps not that terrible a woman, Yashtan had surmised. And when the contest date had been declared, Even the prisoners were allowed to participate. Yashtan was eager to show his ability and win her For he was adamant to complete the task he had been sent to do Already he had tarried his job for some time, and the mighty ones who created them would be unhappy with this delay. On the day of the contest, he was allotted the place of the seven hundredth participant And by the time his number came, all the previous contenders had failed. The queen stood unamused and inanimate on the balcony looking down at the audience and the contenders And when Yashtan came before her, she scowled and turned her face away. When Yashtan had been handed the tools for participation, a bow and an arrow He smiled, for it was something he was quite apt at using Daibah looked at him and said 'So you come to show your prowess in archery? But very smartly you wagged your tongue that day Tried to injure my reputation among subjects mine And show how humble a man you are!’ ‘Aye! I did say a lot that day didn't I! And I do not lament a single word I uttered But I hope dearest queen, that does not disqualify me For my smart tongue can only be a validation of my talents Why else would I be so arrogant if I've naught to be confident about!’ ‘Nay! Certainly your lack of ethics does not disqualify you Though I do believe that it is oft the ones without skill that act with most arrogance!’ ‘Then shall I say you too have no talents?’

Picture 18 Daibah and her maids watch the contestants' performance. Daibah was incensed and directed Yashtan to aim ‘Go on then, show your skills!’ Yashtan nodded and withdrawing one arrow from his quiver Stretched the bowstring, drawing it close to his chest With one closed eye he aimed for the target at the ceiling But changed his aim from the ceiling toward the queen. All gasped but the queen was not alarmed. Her guard acted ‘What are you doing? Why have you aimed the weapon at the queen? Do not be so insolent and do what you've come to do! If you act erratic we shall take you to the dark chambers And have you check your cheeky play.’ Yashtan stifled a snigger- as if trying to arouse the queen’s wrath But aimed for the target and once again drawing the arrow to his chest Shot and succeeded. There was chatter in the audience A great uproar and shouting. ‘This was the first stage, there will be many others! Prepare for the second round!’ Then the guards at the top window brought out a cage And opened the lid to let all the parrots out ‘Shoot all their wings, if a single one is missed Then you shall be disqualified!’ But Yashtan was brilliant with a bow and arrows So swift was he at drawing the arrow from the quiver Stretching the bowstring, aiming and hitting the target The audience was in awe as they watched him shoot every wing without a miss. About a hundred birds he'd aimed and double the wings he'd shot! Then he was done, the fallen prey were examined And Yashtan was successful! ‘This was the second stage, there will be many others. Prepare for the third round!’ And Yashtan saw the queen's guards bring out two fish bowls And they instructed him ‘we will tilt the bowls and empty the contents You are to shoot the fish in the eyes before they hit the ground If a single one you miss, you shall be disqualified!’ Yashtan watched the queen smile a sly smile To perform a near impossible feat, Then Yashtan nodded and the guards turned the bowl upside down Fifty fish in every bowl and the ground only a few feet away But with great prowess Yashtan shot the eyes of the fish And the audience gasped and roared and cheered. ‘This was the third stage, there will be many others. Prepare for the fourth round!’ But Yashtan halted the guards who prepared for yet another round ‘Very clever lady mine. Very clever indeed. This contest is designed to appease your people only Who wish to seek a spouse for their queen! But you have transformed it into a tact for bringing upon your suitors both disgrace and death And to serve as a deterrent for they who hope to ask for your hand But I shall not fall for this trap! I quit this contest this instant!’ Daibah incensed ‘You dare disrespect me?’ ‘You disrespect yourself by offering your hand in a contest Never have I seen anything so shallow, Yet I am a winner, but nothing about you endears me! There you stand in conspicuous robes, claiming to be the fairest of all, It’s a claim most untrue, for against what comparison do you make it, When all other women cover themselves from head to foot! That claim is a blatant lie and you are a lying queen! Therefore, despite being a winner I adjudicate my victory, Hand it over to one who might find you pleasing, For to my eyes, whatever charm you might have has been superceded by your repulsive mouth.’ Then Yashtan dropped his weapons and turned to leave. The guards lunged upon him, but the queen stopped! Yashtan was once again taken to prison! A few days later, the queen’s guards had barged into the prison Where Yashtan enjoyed a peaceful nap after he’d entertained the prisoners the whole night with the tunes of his flute They woke him up most abruptly and gave him no time to resist. Nor did he resist much, for he was prepared for whetever they intended to do with him. They blindfolded him and on a long walk they took him With continuous pushes and shoves, and shoulder taps and slaps. A few hours he’d walked after which they removed his blindfold And Yashtan found himself at the threshold of the queen’s home. Yashtan was ushered into her chamber Where Daibah sat most haughtily upon the throne Surrounded by men keeping her cool with swift swipes of the palm leaves. Unimpressed, or at least he feigned a lack of animation and stepped before her. Intimated by a guard to bend down on one knee, he brusquely sat down on his hunkers Offending Daibah greatly. Her rouge blossomed as her wrath was ignited Yet she restrained herself and addressed him 'I have thought hard about this and because it is favorable for the both of us I believe it is best we enter into a marriage. It is entirely of convenience for I remain unamused by you But I have also come to realise that of the entire mortal lot in this kingdom, Since I am adamant to choose a partner exclusively from mine own kingdom, You are the only one who passed the first few stages of the contest. The others either trembled at the thought of stepping forward in such a severe contest or They fled upon the introduction of the first stage. Now you must have also understood that I am not as vicious as you may have perceived For I spared whoever lost in the contest and announcing the austerity of the contest rules Was simply a means of distilling the most courageous of men. For they refused to turn up, although many yelp like curs at my feet Entreating me for marriage, yet when the opportunity came to them, they dispersed as if a calamity broke upon them. So, you are the best option and I accept you! What do you have to say?' And after a pause in which Yashtan looked around imperiously Changed his posture then stood up. He said to her 'What is left for me to say? You have said enough for the both of us!' Daibah scowled while he continued 'You also seemed to have presumed a lot on my behalf! I did not come to the contest seeking your hand, I think I made myself clear that day. Rather, I came to pass the time and to practice my skills. Stern conditions, such as the ones your men touted that day, Seemed a good challenge and therefore I attended. I found out only later that you were the prize and I couldn't be more offended. I do not wish to marry you for it would be a waste. Wherever I go women throw themselves at my feet, yet I do not go about spouting that fact to everyone. You are too arrogant of tongue, lukewarm of emotion, and shallow of character! Aside from enticing men with your beauty behind transparent veils you have nothing to offer. Nothing no other woman has offered me before. You have nothing but a kingdom you run falsely Maligning preformed doctrines to suit your worship, Self-eulogizing at every step, what are the chances that you will not kill me with boredom after marriage? Lest you want a husband only in title and one you seek no partnership with, Then I can give you that! If you'll be providing me with a home which I do not seem to have at present then fine, I approve of such a contract!' Yashtan had prepped that speech to arouse her anger For he'd learnt she adored flattery but despised the adulator. But one who showed a vain disregard for her person She lunged at the first opportunity to impress! Yet now that he looked at her, she seemed to be overwhelmed. Reddened cheeks but not angry. Perhaps he'd touched a sensitive spot for she drooped her head Heaved a heavy sigh and dismissed all present save Yashtan. When she and Yashtan were alone she stood up, walked close and spoke softly 'I will not force you into a marriage. Of course I won't. I cannot approve of an alliance with a one who himself acts superior to all Yet spares no opportunity to bring down the other. I thought you better than others for I'd hoped you'd look past what I show and see for who I truly am. Since you managed to look past my deception on the hill the first time we met. But your attitude does nothing but heighten my disdain for male kind further. You can leave! I'll still provide a lodging for you so you'll need not wander. You can leave!' CHAPTER THREE The weavers three had tapestried with indelible stitches The alliance of the one encompassing all Muarij And she who emerged from the ocean deep. When at night Yashtan had pondered upon the words of the queen, His heart swelled with a strange fondness He pressed his breast to discover the kernel of such affection for it was so new to him. But the next morning he sent word to her that he was willing to accept her proposal And that the queen would first need to demolish the abhorrent shrine in her dwelling. Of course the queen upon receiving the message was furious And tarried a response a few days in which time Yashtan had grown anxious and when no word came he himself repaired to her abode And accosted her, looked her in the eye and addressed the issue of marriage. 'This game of pride will continue on both sides, yours and mine. Perhaps tis best we put this to rest. I will curb my hate for this shrine for now, but I assure you, Since I despise deceit, that once I have established my footing here I will be quick to demolish not only the blasphemous shrine here But wherever I come across them in the city. Blame me not when later I have made flesh this desire!' And then she spoke to him placidly 'And why would you feel that I am to take you for a husband? Do you think I am that desperate for one when in fact I am quite independent. It would be a man who instead who would be keen on seeking my hand, which would explain why you left your home And came all the way to mine!' Aye! You're independent indeed! And excuse my vileness but independence does not lengthen a lineage! I know the outcome of this courting, I believe neither of us will find a better match! If you're going to act haughty, and postpone a response for a few more days Than I'll be happy to wait, but I do not like hesitant, irresolute people!' And once again he'd pinched a sensitive nerve For the queen pounced on him and instantly accepted to tie the knot. And though when he'd left she was hesitant still, but acquiesced. And they both agreed to a private ceremony to be conducted in her palace. A few witnesses were summoned and an oath was taken. Neither of the two were overwhelmed with joy but the citizens fears had been quelled. The queen had at last chosen a husband and sealed her rule upon them. A celebratory procession was organized with young children leading the assembly And sounding tambourines and sitar. As per custom the newly weds were sent for a private celebration in a forest cottage And none from either of their families and friends were to disturb him. At night Yashtan roused, checked thoroughly the queen And when ensured she was fast asleep, crept out of the room. He left the cottage, unaware of the pet owl who kept watch on him. He went to an isolated portion of the forest and went down on both knees. 'I know you have been awaiting me, Brother Lughanshesh!' And though Lughanshesh could not pierce the smoky barricade He could still inspire his words into Yashtan's mind By a strange connection established by Bolund. 'Yashtan, how far have you come in your quest?' 'I have married her! And we have reached a point where she trusts me enough To sleep a profound sleep for once. She is otherwise very suspicious of nearly everyone and everything.' 'We do not need her trust Yashtan, We need her dead! And now is an apt time to do it! Draw the dagger out of your pocket and end her miserable existence! We did not send you here so you'd court her like a swooning lover And delay the objective given you! Make haste! We do not want her to see the light of day!' 'Nay! You do not understand! It's not as simple as you may think. She's too conscious and overly sensitive of her surrounding. A slight mistake from my end and it won't take her long to rouse from the profoundest slumber To a wakefulness most alarming! You do not know her the way I have come to know her. She can be vicious and pretend to be amicable. She oscillates between emotions and she is dangerous. I need time to develop a stronger bond with her So she utterly bends at my will. I need time!' 'Yashtan! What a poltroon! Do you hear how you tout her ferocity! Look at yourself. Your knees wobble upon the mention of her name! Why did we construct you the way you have been constructed? Why did each one of us in our species add our essence to awaken you? It was not so that you'd tremble whilst speaking of one witch! Forget not that you were made only as an emissary to deliver our strike upon her Because your mortal frame allows you to enter this city! Something none of us in the immortal clan can do! Do not shake and sweat like a woman in labour, you're a man and a powerful one, so act like it!' 'Fine! Fine! I understand! I still need time though. Understand that if she was strong enough to recoil Babeel's weapon, Then she can also tackle me if she is forced to her limits. I am not scared of her, I am just cautious. I would not want your plan to be ruined by an indiscretion, By a misunderstanding and a hasty decision!' 'Yashtan! If we suspect from you foul play, then know this, We have means of bringing your end if need be! Do NOT disappoint us! I will return in a few days time and I expect results!' BOOK FIVE (The tale of Jami) CHAPTER ONE The amorphous bodied wretches, gadding within the abysmal pits of Irkalla, Colluded in private with Babeel’s immortal clan. Though Aleph was well aware of their parleying with the fallen lot, He stopped them not and allowed freely their intercession. It is believed that it was Aleph Himself who sent them as miscreants They were two beings who fed the ills which plagued sentient beings Children of Irkalla’s Eternal Night, Har and Mar through their crystal ball, looked closely at events that conspired Unlike their immortal friends, they could see through the mist of Alakapur; Intrude within the lives of its subjects which they were wont to do, A fact which they kept concealed from Babeel. They had profound knowledge of Yashtan and his troubles. He greatly amused him, for despite the many occasions that had presented themselves He had yet to accomplish the task he was sent to do; Slaying Daibah and returning to Bolund’s forge. Presently they watched him ensconced solitary upon the counterpane. His wife busy with her oracular duties at the sibyl’s temple, The incense burnt and the smoke loomed above him like swimming sirens of hell. The room was dimly lit, with the sunlight shielded by the curtains partly drawn; Red in color but the shadows shone upon it like murky blood. Yashtan brooded, nervously rubbed his chin. He lamented ‘I find myself in such a dilemma, oh what a dilemma this is! Why did father send me to Irkalla? My encounters there trouble me more. How did Irkalla allow me within it’s depths? And those three sages, yet unnamed, what battle did they speak of? Perhaps a battle after the slaying of Daibah Or will it come through some other contrivance of fate? Nay! We make our own destiny! To leave all up to fate is a contraption of the idle mind! But none guided me to a proper course of action. Even when I inquired repeatedly I received no response. I was a mere infant, my thoughts still inchoate; Yet to be sorted into wisdom and endless babble. What to do? What not to do? Should I play a traitor to Daibah and have her dead? Should I play a traitor to the Murj and betray my makers? A traitor I’d be either way, but I cannot sit doing naught of it. Should I intercede and bring Daibah and the Muarij to amicable relation? Is it possible? If it is then it would be a noble deed! But ah! I am troubled yet again, for I have secret knowledge of a future battle! Brewing friendship between the two parties would not result in a battle, and a battle is to come, The wise ones spoke of it! Tis such a cruel undertaking! What an enterprise this is. Alas! I am at a crossroads! Even deep rumination avails me not! Pointless it is to endeavor to think so hard about it, for I will reach no conclusion! Perhaps I should leave things as they are. What is to happen, will happen without my intervention!’ While Har and Mar hearkened Yashtan’s words, They bustled about anxiously. Often when men brooded upon the duality of a task, The two cajoled them into selecting the option destined for chaos. Weak willed often acquiesced to their scheming, And not many a strong willed men had they encountered. ‘Man is born naturally anxious! Man is born naturally conscientious! And though we cannot beget anger, we can heighten it! If one already be struggling with wrath, that struggle we can eliminate! If ones virtue be clouding his vice, that virtue we can cause him to abandon!’ They decided to accost Yashtan and unleash chaos! Yashtan still sat pondering upon his bed, When behind him from the incense smoke, Harut and Marut appeared in their dark forms. Yashtan gave a soft cry and fell down on the floor. He crawled and curled up against a wall when the two neared him. Though already appalling in their appearance, they approached him doubly fearsome. One of them touched his cheek and a chill rushed through him. He was momentarily seized by that surge and changed his poise. ‘Ah Yashtan! How beauteous you are. Soft and supple skinned. A fine creation to enrapture both men and women alike.’ They passed their fingers through his hair ‘What smooth mane, as fluid to the touch as a water cascade. Blacker than the holy bod of Mother Night! So fair featured and handsome! Indeed, you are fashioned after Jami’s form. All you be missing are the Malaiks’s wings!’ ‘Nay! Brother mine! Wish not such a thing! If he had Malaika’s wings, how would we have ever approached him? It’s light would have blinded and wounded us!’ They had a fit of laughter ‘Now that we remember, you indeed are much akin to an angel; A soulless, mindless creature. Oh Yashtan! What happened during your private travel to Irkalla? We are curious! You returned enlightened and conscientious! Quite a curious thing for one who traversed the most tenebrous realm of the Universe.’ They passed their hands over his breast to perceive his heart beat and Yashtan scowled! ‘Is that a real heart in there? Or something as artificial as the rest of you? Oh listen Har! It resounds his ribs like a natural thumping.’ Yashtan was slighted. He collected himself to respond despite his shivering frame. ‘I am NOT artificial you monsters!’ ‘Oh look! How angered he is! But dear Yashtan that is the truth is it not? You were constructed in an artificial forge, with artificial equipment! Perhaps you were even fooled by that conniving Bolund Into thinking you were anything close to a man made by Aleph!’ ‘What would you know? You scum of hell!’ ‘Indeed we are what you say we are. When all was fashioned with the Word , When Irkalla was set within a bottomless pit, We were constructed by the froth spitted out from Irkalla’s mouth. But whatever our composition, we were constructed by Aleph’s Divine Fingers. While you are a mere marionette, forged and employed for Murj fancies!’ ‘Wretched ones of hell! Formless grues! Get away from me! I need not vicious monsters igniting my wrath! Go now, for I know why you come to me. I will never give in to your cajoling, And shall exercise all will to make you leave!’ ‘Aye! We come to you with a purpose and we shan’t leave till we have fulfilled it! At least we be faithful to our Maker and do as we are ought to do; Make you concede to your vices! See! We do not conceal our ills behind the guise of virtue. Unlike you, who was made to be an emissary of the Muarij, Now hides behind that shell, a sympathizer of their foe! Be true to your purpose you wretched semi-mortal and do what you are expected to do! Slay that travesty whose husband you pretend to be, And present her head to your masters upon a gilded platter!’ ‘Hush monsters! I have a purpose, And tis much bigger than what your vile, scheming minds can conjure!’ ‘Aye you have a purpose, and that is to kill Daibah!’ ‘That is for me to decide! I know not what she has done that makes her deserving of death!’ ‘She has blasphemed, shown a rancorous disregard to Babeel!’ ‘So why do you care? You are the slaves of Aleph! Go and never come before me again!’ ‘We did not come so you can ward us off with threatening words! We come to linger. To ignite your wrath; From your left, from your right, from above you, from below you, from behind you. Wherever you turn, you will find us! We shall come as your reflection in the mirrors or in clear waters. We shall derange your mind and delude you! In times of joy, we shall depress you. In times of sorrow we shall cause you to erupt with laughter! We shall loom over you as a hapless, sorrow laden cloud, And beneath you as a sinister shadow. Such is the misery with which we will afflict you till you decide to act in our favor!’ Yashtan was utterly daunted by their words. He gulped and shook with fear. Despairing over the outcome of either decisions; right or wrong. But so confused was he that he knew not which of his decisions was right! ‘You wish that I slay Daibah! If such is your scheme then you collude with Babeel! Are you not afraid of what Aleph will do with you? He will toss you into hell fire so you burn again and again! I lost all appetite when I saw the tortures of sin, Then how is it that you; who have seen those tortures up close, since the beginning of life and death, not daunted by it? Are you abject? That lusty for temporal power that you conspire with Babeel? Have you no fear for what you force me to brew?’ The two gasped ‘You worry more for Aleph’s wrath than those who made you?’ ‘Why should I not? What good would heeding Babeel do me? Haunt me all you like but I will never acquiesce to you! Heed my advice and forego this task that you pursue. No good would it bring you!’ ‘We do not seek council of self righteous fools! You can do as you wish, and we will do as we wish! Go about living your life in the confused state in which we approached you, And we shall go about haunting your nights and your days. But know this, when we target one, the outcome is never pleasing!’ They exuded a stench of dust and sulfur, A small portal opened which pulled the incense inward. The brothers commingled with the shapeless smoke and disappeared within, the portal then closed. Beads of perspiration collected over Yashtan’s brow. He had composed himself before them but was thoroughly shaken. And with the final warning uttered by Har and Mar, he was ever more worried. Deciding a course of action was daunting enough, Now he was marked by the very agents of misery. Whilst he looked on lost, Daibah entered the room. ‘Why are you so pale?’ She asked. She brought her hand close to his forehead to check for fever, But he fell back on the bed ‘Its nothing!’ ‘It does not look like nothing!’ She saw him nervous and irritable. He rushed out of the room then the house. Daibah perceived an immortal energy. A practitioner of oracular powers and well versed in ritual magic, She sought the aid of her mystical knowledge. She took a bowl and burned incense, poured oil and melted butter She sprinkled perfume and lemon drops. Spread the smoke throughout the room and discovered the remnants of the portal a few moments old. She thrust her hand and expanded the portal for a view. She found lingering within the two amorphous brothers. They were charged with a party of wretched upon whom they brought down punishment, Upon the cursed backs they lashed with fiery whips Daibah gasped at the terrible view, she knew what Yashtan had witnessed, But was confused over what exchange of dialogue had occurred, if it had occurred at all. Transfixed by the queen’s terrible gaze, they said ‘What a dark presence she has! She is formed from Irkalla’s ashes!’ ‘Aye! She is Daab’s daughter, is that why she disregards all else?’ ‘I ask you, did you approach Yashtan?’ ‘Aye! We did! We did! And we told him we shall come to him Every day and every night till he decides to kill you! You know why we torture him? Because killing you is the task he was made to do! He is not a man as you may think, For he has no human father nor a human mother. He was formed in Bolund’s forge; heated to a crisp in his hearth, Then unleashed as a terrible omen into your queendom. How foolish you are to have accepted him like a wanton woman. You enabled him to fulfill his task with such ease, and now you try to subdue us with your fierce gaze. He was sent to betray you by slighted Murj and he will betray, For however much he may wish otherwise, a puppet he is with as much will and self-control as a puppet! So go and wrangle with him. Engage in a conversation that will end with the death of either one of you! But you won’t win, nay! You won’t. For his blood runs with the power of every Murj ever born and to be born. Go! Go you travesty of a woman! Serpentine offspring!’ ‘If he decides to kill me then that would be his decision! I won’t vie for his affection if he be so devoted to your Murj kind! When such a situation occurs then I will do what I must and he shall do what he must, And all on earth and hell and beyond shall behold the outcome!’ ‘Ah! What confidence you have in yourself! But we have seen confident men break down at the gates of hell! Do what pleases you Daibah and we will go about doing what pleases us! And we shan’t allow any earth dweller to disable us in achieving our goal Hellish beings we are through and through And as hell bringers we shall be remembered ‘Indeed!’ Daibah stretched out her arm, and closed her fist The portal was sealed. Awaiting Murj council, Yashtan stood upon the precipice of the highest mount! He called upon Lughanshesh for advice. Hoped to behold a parting in the clouds and the mist for the immortal’s descent But his calls were left unheeded. He stepped down and wandered aimlessly. Soon he felt behind him a formidable presence, and he looked back But there was nothing save a stretch of lonely mountain tops He perceived the dismal clouds collecting above him His shadow lengthened sharply like the one cast by an afternoon sun in quick decline Inexorable whispers filled his mind; their plaintive cadence engendered great sorrow. The voices were indistinct and his shadow moved like an apparition displaying appalling images. It depicted his beheading and stabbing, of projectiles being hurled upon him from the sky. The clouds shaped themselves in morbid pictures; of Babeel’s wrath coming down on him. Har and Mar had resumed their torment. Now they emerged before him fully formed and wreaking of sulfur, Then touched his skin to scare and seize him. They sang a sorrowful tune; their voices vibrated motes of hellish smoke when it rose into a gloomy crescendo. ‘Leave me alone wretches! Leave me alone!’ ‘Kill her! Kill her! Kill her!’ ‘No I will not!’ ‘Then suffer!’ The ringing in his ears was brutal and his body writhed. He coiled and twisted on the ground ‘Stop! Please stop!’ ‘Kill her! Kill her! Kill her!’ The ringing ceased and Yashtan regained composure. Had the brothers offered him respite out of sympathy? That was not possible. ‘Why can I not overcome them? If I have been endowed with Babeel’s powers plus father’s added cunning then I should be able to control these monsters. Why can I not? Why am I so helpless? The entire lot of monsters on earth and in hell conspire to have me at Daibah’s throat! But none from heaven intervenes to aid me! Am I really worthless to deserve heavenly guidance? No Murj comes for me since I am a mere weapon at their disposal! The hell beings torment me for some motive of their own!’ Then looking up ‘Oh Aleph! If you give me no help then tell me just this much, Am I truly a soulless, mindless puppet as all claim? Or have I too been touched by your Divine Fingers?’ He awaited a response, but none came. For a platoon of cherubs to arrive upon their carpet of clouds to hoist him To the celestial abode to take him, where he longed to return But no aught of godly sign issued from the sky ‘Alas! No word comes to me! Then I shall do what I must to keep myself sane! If Daibah’s death will give me respite then tonight I shall kill her! I cannot allow my death in the name of love, For tis not love that I feel…how can it be if I am not made for it? I shall kill her tonight and let all the Muarij convene and conquer Alakapur!’ Yashtan spoke with conviction and Har and Mar stepped back ‘You monsters of hell, haunt me no more, For I shall do as you want. Allot me some time…at least till nightfall, And when she retires to bed, I shall kill her with my dagger!’ Har and Mar rejoiced and repaired to their dismal home in Irkalla’s caverns. Their laughter added to the tortured cries of the punished, Churned a morbid symphony. Irkalla was a sentient realm. Though constructed for the purpose of torture, it derived no pleasure from it. When Irkalla learnt of Harut and Marut’s devious plotting, And when it realized the surge of many more wretched at it’s door, It admonished them in it’s sonorous voice. ‘What more further do you employ to deviate mortals from the Decree? Is it not enough for you that my belly already belches with the hoard of sinful dead that you whip and lash each moment? I can contain an endless party true, But each lot thrust inside my body pains me greatly!’ ‘Oh Irkalla, however much we conspire, And whichever path chooses that wretched Yashtan, Thousands of deaths are imminent!’ Then Irkalla belched to allow a seething stream of poison beneath their feet. ‘Burn like the rest of them!’ But Irkalla’s efforts were in vain, For the two conspirators were not susceptible to his devices! CHAPTER TWO ‘I stand here above hoary mountain tops and stare at yonder stars, Bright beacons alight in the night sky. Alas! Night has come and the entire world rests embowered in shadow. Here! Here they linger as mischief mongering sprites, Their restive presence I can sense everywhere. I cannot escape their brutal devices, their shrewd councils, their earnest whispers of misery! Is this it? Those few moments I shared with lovely Daibah lasted so long? With open arms she welcomed me and took me in as her own. Yet I am to deliver her to Irkalla, Parley with those she shares a bond of enmity with.

Picture 20 Har and Mar torture Yashtan. But so it is! I am selfish to slay her only to bring myself some respite! Lo! That is man and what a selfish being it is!’ He journeyed homeward oblivious to all those around him. The night owl, Daibah’s pet, who kept watch on Yashtan, Now followed him by shifting perches from bark to bark. Yashtan did not care for the owl, nor the guards who manned the streets and found his loitering rather curious He talked to himself and walked briskly. The narrow streets were bleak and silent. Infant squeals were muffled by worried mothers who feared the nightly coursing of the grues; Those who preyed upon noisy children and neither charms nor chants could ward them. The cumulative aroma of the pungent oils and perfumes weighed heavily on the lee streets, And overwrought his already tensed nerves. Yashtan was adamant to slay Daibah and walked with firm steps. He felt the inexorable pounding in his breast telling him to reconsider his resolve. But surmised that such was the fate that had been written for him When he reached home he lingered outside for a while to regain his faculties. He went in, and staggered with limping and nervous feet, into the room. Daibah was on the bed, turned sideways with her back to him. By his bedside she had placed a platter with a few slices of apple and a fruit knife. Never before had she been so callous about blades in the room. Now Yashtan was ever more conflicted; ‘I cannot do this! I cannot betray her like this! Oh I cannot do this!’ When Har and Mar learnt of Yashtan’s struggle they swiftly approached him. In his bedroom they accosted him, where he stood with trembling hands clutching the knife. They grabbed his wrists, one each, and resumed their torturous whispers. ‘Sweet Yashtan struggle no more and stab her in the back’ ‘Or you can slit her throat and stain these sheets with her vile blood’ ‘No I cannot, why do you not do it yourselves?’ ‘Cause tis a task which you’re meant to do! ‘But I can’t!’ ‘Such a poltroon the immortals made for their job. Not a single task have you been able to accomplish. Be not so hesitant and do it. Make it quick so you need not struggle long!’ ‘How can I not struggle? You want me to turn a traitor!’ ‘Worry not dear Yashtan, All this sudden sense of morality plaguing your faculties is mere wishful thinking. Well hammered into you by Bolund to act a human. Ah! When this is done, you can wrangle with your temporal maker for having employed you for such a cruel undertaking, You are after all, a puppet!’ ‘NO!’ Har and Mar derived great pleasure from Yashtan’s misery! They jeered at him, ‘No! I am not a puppet! I am a real man! I can feel pain both within and without! I laugh, I cry, I love and hate just as any natural mortal does!’ ‘If that is so dear Yashtan, then go on, Prick yourself in any part of your body save your wrists and heel, And check whether you ooze mortal blood or are as hollow as drained tribute!’ Yashtan gasped, indeed he had a single vein, Rushing with blood concocted in Bolund’s forge, A vein whose length stretched from head to heel. ‘Aye! That alone throws your mind in disarray, Because that alone slights your ego. Oh I must say, Bolund has done an impeccable job in fixing your ego!’ ‘I know what I am, and I need not your goading to make me act a traitor. I feel alive, therefore I AM! And it cannot be that I was born for so abject a purpose as murder and betrayal. Nay! I refuse to believe that!’ ‘You can believe whatever comforts your artificial heart, But that would only serve to further delude you!’ Yashtan released his grip on the knife and dropped it on the floor. ‘I will not do this!’ The incensed brothers expanded and decreased their amorphous forms. ‘That will you exercise is quite something dear Yashtan! Let us kill you and check how real is the soul you claim to have. But quick slaying would be no fun, We should first relish your agony, Move you to the pinnacle of your misery, And when you will bear it no longer, We shall offer you more misery, till you finally die.’ They presented before him strange illusions; Palpable illusions, Cast him into blazing pits and burnt his skin, Tossed him upon a rock hit by crashing waves, Had him trampled beneath a wild animal, Whilst they whispered incessantly in his ears. They repeated these tortures and told him to acquiesce but nay! He did not surrender to them. He lashed and screamed but did not cease to resist. Amidst their incoherent whispers hummed a mellifluous tune. At once all tortures halted and Yashtan was lost in nothingness. He floated without an aught of wind to buoy him. The blackness thoroughly confused him. ‘Here I am Yashtan.’ Akhdar Masih stood before the gates of the sages’ abode, The gilded coffer still hard pressed to his chest. Yashtan’s lachrymose eyes had swelled with tears just below his eyelids, And when he saw Akhdar Masih’s face of kindness, he allowed them to fall. His tears flowed and he wept profusely and bitterly. Glad to see Akhdar Masih amidst the agents of such torment. ‘Why do you weep Yashtan?’ ‘Why should I not? Will you tell me my tears are artificial as well? How can I be, when I feel not the slightest doubt that I am real? I exist an individual with a heart and a mind! Did you not gift me these senses that day? From within that very vessel you hold now. Or was that too just an illusion? Did you play games with me?’ ‘What do you think?’ ‘It does not matter what I think, when I am not supposed to think. I am supposed to obey, I am bound by chains of slavery, Shackled by vile obligation to Babeel and father Bolund. ‘You are only as enslaved as you think you are!’ ‘That is wishful thinking of one freely traversing the heavenly realm, Safely distanced from the maddening touch of hellish beings, Spouting nothing but didactism which is impossible to apply in the human world!’ Ahkhdar Masih sighed and gave a tender tap on Yashtan’s shoulder. ‘You feel you have been given a great burden. Let me tell you a story then.’ ‘I don’t want to hear your stories!’ But Akhdar Masih continued ‘There was once a son born to Babeel, The only son born to him in a natural manner after centuries of banishment. Born a miracle, of wholly mortal make, Jami his name, a fey being since birth. For in cradle he was slaughtered and harvested by a mournful Babeel for a second birth, Only to be brutally slain yet again. And I shall tell you now, a secret. Those two lifetimes which the immortals share knowledge of, Were not the only lifetimes of Jami, For he was born again and again and again, Let me show you.’ CHAPTER THREE ‘Grief stricken though Ishnan was, She had been endowed with the gift of patience, to grant her ease of heart. She left Irkalla, deserting the heart, to lead an ascetic life, Isolated from Babeel’s schemes. While Ishnan had lingered for a dialogue with Aleph, The livid beating of the heart had ceased momentarily for her sake. But once she left, it resumed with a renewed vitality and was placed in Irkalla’s depths. The hellworld enclosed the organ within a network of veins, And its pounding charged each morbid atom with manifold energy. Ishnan returned to her solitary life, But not before she delivered to Babeel, an account of her experience. She did however bend her dialogue to suit his ears. ‘Accept my apologies for not having come to you earlier. I was too stricken with grief to be able to hold a conversation. I trudged to Irkalla in an attempt to recall Jami to life, Or learn some magic by which to reassemble and revivify his mangled body, Despite being aware of how vain a task it would be. And alas, that is what it was; a fruitless endeavor. Jami’s heart now rests in Irkalla, and I shall have you know, When Dushashana’s realm I entered, it had ceased to beat Dear Babeel, Jami will not return, and you too should understand that. So now I shall leave! Babeel was infuriated at her temerity, to present herself before him. She had failed to protect him which she had been employed to do. ‘Ishnan! You dare leave after such carelessness? It is partly your fault! I had told you had I not, to be diligent. To keep a watchful eye on him for he was prone to evil eye. Had you been true to your duty, No beast, mortal or immortal would have harmed him. You failed as a nurse and thus you shall be punished!’ ‘How will you punish me Babeel? Will you have me shackled in Irkalla, As you did with the titans? You should know that I am quite resistant to that abode’s devices. Will you send a son after me? Particularly designed by you to slay me? You know well I cannot die! Will you cause me heartache? Then know this that Jami’s passing has wounded me as much as it has wounded you. You gave him to me as an infant, and I cared for him like a mother, And with age I loved him even more, I have struggled long to understand the shape of my affection. You can’t break me any further, thus heed my words and forego your pointless scheming. You have never gained anything from it and I doubt you will in the future. This is our parting Babeel, Farewell!’ Babeel was enraged at her gumption but knew the truth in her words, There was nothing he could do to her save employ puerile tactics to further her misery. He watched her leave and when she had gone, he succumbed to his broken heart. His face was streaked with fluvial streams of tears, For in solitude the epiphany had dawned, That Jami now was eternally lost to him. The heart he had once salvaged for harvesting was dead in Irkalla. Nothing calmed his paternal yearning for his deceased son. His fervent tears were unceasing and filled a reservoir, Even then his weeping did not stop. He descanted that body of tears into an empty channel on earth; Located between two mountains. It was a stream imbued with charnel powers, And anyone who touched it, or drank from it, would die a terrible death. It was placed by Babeel ever wroth and loathly of mortal kind to cause them distress; For man it was who caused him to fall from Aleph’s grace, It was man’s weakly nature to wither and die, And it was this nature of man that killed Jami. Thus the river he installed, perhaps as a means to mollify his anger at his son who left him in each life. But even that attempt was in vain, for it brought him no comfort. Babeel then positioned himself between those two mountains, to constrict his chest, in vain, And keep his restless heart from painful beating. But to no avail, To cry till the end of time was his curse. During this lodging between two mountains, Babeel concocted a plan, Which he thought was rather cunning. He travelled to Bolund’s lair and proposed to him the scheme. ‘I want you to create Jami in your forge, and bring him to life!’ Bolund discerned from the outset, the futility of such an undertaking. ‘But how can I give life to a clay doll?’ ‘Not life, just enough mettle that enables it to venture into Irkalla, And reclaim the heart of Jami! If you perform this task, you shall be handsomely rewarded. Make the clay mold identical to Jami’s natural frame, And let him go forth into those restricted grounds!’ ‘But father Babeel, one of mortal make will burn to a crisp upon setting foot there. Such a task is vain and will only cause you further grief.’ Babeel moved swift and grabbed Bolund’s neck, Tightened his grip around him and brought the smith close to his face. ‘Look at me! Look at me! Look well into my eyes! What have I become? A hapless being despite all my powers. I cannot exercise logic for my mind is clouded by sorrow. However vain a task, if it can offer me a shred of respite, Then it is worth attempting. You will do as I say, lest you wish I throw you down this mountain summit! Surely you wouldn’t want that! Now get to work, and be fast but not hasty, I expect refined work! I shall return within a few days, and I want him here when I do!’ Incensed Bolund could not protest, But uttered a few curses under his breath. He then started shaping a mass of clay, Worked deftly day and night without rest. He molded roughened limbs then smoothened, crudely, the wisps, By removing excess clay with a chisel. He chiseled the shapes to a goodly make but not perfection, Refined the minutest strands. When he had created the rough model, He let it stand lifeless in the forge, awaiting Babeel’s return. It was but, swift-footed Lughanshesh that arrived in Babeel’s stead. ‘Do what you must and bring it to life.’ Bolund sensed great envy in the messenger. Poor Lughanshesh had longed served Babeel most obediently, To rise in esteem in his eyes, yet he could never vie with Jami; Who received his father’s affections without doing much. Lughanshesh watched Bolund hoist the clay doll onto a cart, And push it into the hearth for a final bake. When he removed the figure, Much to the immortals’ surprise it had been gravely disfigured; Uneven clay wisps had risen on his arms and face, The expression had turned from one of placidity to a grimace. As if in some fleeting moment he’d received life. Whatever did happen, it had been ruined. ‘What is this Bolund? Has this ever happened before?’ ‘No! I am quite surprised myself! This is routine, and never have I made a mistake. It’s as if some magic prevents it from attaining a perfect form!’ ‘Something went wrong for certain, smith! Fix it!’ ‘’How do I fix it now? It is baked stiff and there is nothing to be done!’ ‘Father won’t accept that excuse!’ ‘You are a witness to what happened! Support me then Lughanshesh!’ ‘Why should I?’ ‘Because this mishap conspired before your very eyes, Thus it behoves you to serve as my witness. I have performed my task with great diligence, As I am wont to carry out every project. Tis probably a curse placed on Babeel by Aleph, That no measure would avail him when it comes to his dearest Jami. All attempts shall fail, and never will he have ease of heart, Or coolness of the eyes and he will forever weep fervent tears, For centuries or millennia to continue weeping, Till finally his eyes turn swollen with sorrow, And succumb to languor and blindness. But what difference does blindness bring to one already without vision? Remember! But nay, you can’t remember, For you were an infant then when father was cast down from Heaven, Aleph had spoken grave words, That no happiness would ever come to your father. For even agents of happiness will only lend his troubles increase, And such an agent has proved his son Jami.’ ‘Whatever you say concerns me not. What’s done is done and you should worry about the present, not the past. Whatever Jami serves to be, he is dead and will forever keep dying, for all I care. So fix it or father shall be at your throat, And I shan’t intervene.’ ‘Then you will leave me to die by his hands? You do know, only I can come up with a solution!’ ‘What is the solution except redoing it!’ ‘Nay, that would take too much time! I wish he had been here to witness it himself, Instead he sends you who refuses to aid me when I do no wrong. What is wrong with you Lughanshesh? Does jealousy cloud your mind so severely that you forget how I have helped you? I added metal accoutrements to your wings to aid your flight. I gave you the Lugh to channel your powers and retain your energies. I gilded your helmet, burnished it and added to it a few rays of the sun to increase its glory. What have I not done for you and yet you act ungrateful. Be kind and help me!’ ‘Fine, I will do what I can! Which means I make excuses for you! He told me to bring the enlivened boy to him!’ ‘How can I bring him to life in such a manner? I told him before , even if he be a living breathing boy, He would not have a soul! Does father Babeel want a puppet?’ ‘I don’t care for what he wants! I am curious however, whatever disfigured this thing!’ ‘I already told you, Tis the curse placed on Babeel by Aleph.’ ‘Stop your conjectures, Either you redo it or I take this thing as it is to father, Or I will drop him on Alakapuri soil so he can trudge to where Irkalla opens. Irkalla will breathe life into it!’ Lughanshesh expanded his wings, and cushioned the clay mold atop his shoulders. Then flew out of the forge like a swift raven. He travelled to the east, flew past Alakapur’s peaks, Jettisoned the doll fashioned after Jami upon Mt Meru’s pediment. When he had done it, he did not heed the doll or whether it landed safely from it’s distant fall. Lughanshesh flew away and reached his father, Still poised between the mountains and crying. ‘Father, the doll was made and I have cast it where you desired!’ Babeel was enraged ‘Why did you not bring him here as I had told you?’ ‘Father you would not have liked it had I brought him to you in the state he was in Truth be told, and Bolund had no hand in it for I stand here as witness, When he cast the clay doll into the hearth for a final heating The fire had disfigured it terribly The mass of clay melted and we were both troubled by the sight!’ ‘What? Are you in connivance with your brother? I am sure you must have cooked up a scheme so that a one in Jami’s image does not come to pass!’ ‘Father you doubt me? Even though I have always done as you’ve told me without a word of protest? Father doubt me not, and doubt not Bolund For even if he be a scheming vermin as you think him He is quite particular about his craft and will never ruin a tool he spent days creating!’ ‘Go then! I myself will retrieve him from Irkalla! I will go down to that abode of hell and get him!’ Disconcerted, Lughanshesh stopped Babeel But he was adamant in doing what he intended. CHAPTER FOUR Irkalla passages opened in several points on earth. They opened deep and tore fissures in the ground. It’s waters either scalding or ice cold, flowed outward. Babeel had learnt of one opening in the past, And had cast the Titans that had killed Jami in the cradle. When the infant’s still bleeding and beating heart was secured, It’s blood was mixed with straw by Bolund, to fashion a special chain Which was then employed to bind the Titans in Irkalla’s top tier. Much later, when Ishnan had left the heart in Irkalla, Aleph had placed it within it’s depths. It’s violent pounding had served as added torment to the residents! But, the beating had recently ceased. Babeel entered Irkalla, and thought of how deep he could venture, And speak there with the one Aleph had assigned; A half rotten corpse, still alive. Aleph had provided him with a vessel and an eternal goal; To be a Conveyor of Souls. He had no name for he needn’t any. He spoke to none nor ever acted beyond his role. Babeel thought him one deprived of vision. He had no ears; And Babeel thought him one deprived of hearing. Upon his eyes were cast thick purplish membranes; And Babeel thought him one deprived of sight, His one cheek was blanched, badly bruised with a deep furrow like gash. The blood had congealed under the lip, And a barely visible ecchymosis was caught by the faint light. The other cheek was cadaverous; maggots crawled in and out. To question him, Babeel went, And before that Conveyor of Souls, he abandoned all pride. When Babeel approached the ferryman, despite the veiled eyes, The Conveyor looked toward him. But a lot in his demeanour Babeel felt changed. For his otherwise unshakeable stature seemed timorous. His chest moved inward and outward, distinctly. Despite the layer of rime above his brow and shoulders, His own body emanated a heat which palpitated above him. Upon Babeel’s approach he felt a quiver, then Babeel said ‘O Conveyor of Souls! The one alone who can cross the dead’s abode, I seek a few answers so your council I require, So humor me and deny me not this opportunity!’ The Conveyor looked at Babeel with a moment’s pause, and then said ‘What is it that you wish to ask?’ And there was about him, a pretentious composure. ‘Do you know of an undone, clay doll? One that came to your abode to seek a heart. His heart hid somewhere in this realm, And in his chest he had a hole for it’s placement. I know not for sure whether he came to you, or whether he engaged with you in chatter, But if so much as an atom is to intrude, You O Conveyor, would have knowledge of it.’ Babeel had not expected it, but the Conveyor was quick to oblige. At Babeel’s inquiry, he nodded and said ‘I know of the one who came for the heart. He was, as you say, a sentient doll of clay. But he and I met not where you and I meet now. Perhaps through some other gateway opened in the earth, And crossed a few torturous abodes. He stood before an abyss, wrought and modeled in clay. Baked in the hearth but never finished; Rough handprints, wisps of undone clay and dark patches of overbaked areas, Formed a major part of his composition. He was not mortal, yet not one of your kind. Forlornness wreathed his brow, Sorrow great stood behind him like a nimbus, His dress was loose and white. I had hoped to find a vacuousness in his vacant eyes, Yet they shone like two melancholic orbs. In his chest there was indeed as you say, a hollow cavity, where his heart should’ve been. I could not take him in, for he was not dead. I could not let him leave for he was not alive. Such an occasion had never occured. I allowed him in, and he told me his name *Jami* Jami…Jami…Jami… Jami! I knew that name, ofcourse I did, much troubles had you endured to bind his killers in this realm’s top tier. That name had me perturbed and it is not in me to be easily perturbed. And for some time, Irkalla had spoken that name through the beating heart. Its location was something I did not know, for it was placed by Dusashana; Your great ancient enemy. The boy introduced in me a strange mortal sensation. There was not much he spoke of, save he was the son of Babeel, That he had been tasked with retrieving his heart. When he boarded the ferry, I had no reason to paddle, For the sirens of the rivers and the billows contrived, To take us where he needed to be. There was terrible thunder and raging lightning, Like one clanging massive cymbals overhead. The part of the river under that tumult of light and thunder, Seethed and bubbled, it quaked the ground And added further misery to the already miserable residents. Irkalla is a realm of internal agony, Agony of man, of muarij, of every inanimate object of the underworld. From an atom to the tallest mount, teems with anguish. I inquired the doll *You seem to me an experiment of some sort. A puppet in search if a heart, how can that be? Who made you? Bolund I presume. This voyage must be an excuse to acquaint you with the most tenebrous realm of the Universe, Before you venture into more luminous ones. I am aware of the great pleasure Bolund derives from troubling his toys!* *I was not always like this.* He said and I perceived in his countenance, great sorrow. For once he struck me as an innocent being, Cast out to suffer alone and discover such terror on his own. *I too once was flesh and blood!* *Then what happened to you? What brought you to such a place?* *What brought me to this place, you ask? Perhaps it’s best I start from the beginning. When I was born, the SirMirai cast her terrible shadow on myself and my father, That ominous shadow portended ill for us both; Death for me, and for him, perpetual grief. The Divine Weavers of Aleph stretched a length of my life’s yarn, and curtailed it. They sang ‘tis a first, tis a first. A yarn we cut as soon as it’s issued to us. Tis a boy meant not to live long but will come again and again. How curious, how new, never has rebirth been gifted to any before. Aye! We sisters will vie to curtail his life. Why? Never have we acted so hatefully before. This yarn brews between us discord, Are we compelled to run through it, our sharp scissors?’ And so my fate was foretold, None could see beyond my adolescence. My father, overtly conscious of my security had me protected above a mountain top; With the Green Maidens and my father’s many sons, Yet I was killed. Ah! The mortal that I was.* Then I inquired him of his second birth, to which he was a bit reticent to answer. *My heart was salvaged and implanted as the seed within a she-serpent’s womb. And I was born, a second time, But a second death soon followed. Yet again my heart was saved by a lover, And placed somewhere here in Irkalla. So here I am!* He quivered but I sensed no emotion in him. When we had neared the cavern where the heart had been placed, The thumping roared in the cavern and thrashed the waves against the rocks. The ferry sped past it and we moved downward Where the thunderclaps and lightning ravaged all. They had ruptured the ravine and produced a furrow deep, Into which the water ushered at immense speed. Without my intervention, the ferry guided itself to the ravine’s end, The waves then cast us to the solid trees, dark and gnarly, Under which was a passage to a deep gorge. Golden sparks flew out from it. I plunged the oar to propel the vessel away but the water rushed between the chinks And the ferry did not move. *My journey ends here.* The boy said, And roused from the gangway. He stepped down the vessel and awaited a torrent to come his way. *Be not foolish, these waters will kill you! Be it flesh or bone, they are unforgiving!* I reiterated but he heeded me not I was aghast but increasingly curious when the torrent’s motion ceased, And formed out of itself a raft to support Jami’s feet. It carried him into the gorge. He had disappeared but I was appalled and slighted, For some otherworldly creature had more knowledge of my abode than I. I pushed into the gorge, the ferry which was now free from all constraints, With the singular aim of following Jami. The currents were rapid and they directed the ferry relentlessly, So great were they I had thought the prow would break away from the body And both I and the stern would be thrown away to some distance. Then the wallop of the thunder and the lightning cries grew evermore, The sky turned grim, the clouds serried together, the walls bellowed. I saw Jami walk toward a blazing ball atop the hill. We looked at each other but not a word was spoken. I was too curious about the outcome of my charge, And partially filled with a terror yet unknown to me. The boy then thrust his arm inside the ball and screamed. I shall have you know, that cry was nothing like a mortal’s; It was loud, teeming with anguish and great pain which pulsated the woody veins, Which suddenly appeared on him. The cries reached the welkin of hell. Then from it erupted flames which engulfed him. There was a blinding thunderclap, then absolute blackness, As if all the light was assimilated in that ball. The sky turned calm and all was possessed by a momentary stillness; The clouds ceased their motion, The sirens aglow in the water turned dull, The currents halted and I was perhaps the only being not dispossessed of motion. I looked up, and there was a fiery ball no longer, rather a swollen, pumping heart! Then there was whizzing, as if the rush of blood when the veins around it formed, And upon it layers upon layers of flesh were formed. I looked in awe at the massive body which formed before my eyes, And was in awe still when the flawless white skin clothed it. Now there were those ivory limbs and impeccable curly locks. Oh what a splendid being stood on that hill. He turned and looked down on me, the clouds parted and showed a view of Mount Carthassus. A hoard of men and women hid in fear of the wild animals lurking about, And looking at them he took out a flute from his garments. He did not speak, and left as the clouds serried together once again.’ Babeel gasped, *So he did come and he has left! Ah, I am late! I failed to receive him, now he is there in Mt Carthassus, amidst women who loathe the sight of men, Why does he go to such a place? Does he wish to suffer another brutal death? I will make haste and intercept him, or perhaps He it was who brought madness upon those women with his flute playing? Many a tales I’ve heard of magic he wrought with his symphonies, even the animals charted long distances to listen to them! Oh Conveyor of Souls, humor me one last time and tell me how long tis been since he departed Irkalla?* *Time does not exist in the Realm of the Dead! I cannot measure it. There are no well spaced nights and days here, Nor passage of heavenly bodies to speak to us of hours gone. Here is just this Eternal Darkness! So ask me not that which I have no answer to!* *Then that rival of mine from the time of our ancient Ocean Churning, must have the answer to that! Dusashana, who isolated himself from my immortal lot when I rebuked him after that Grand Event! He who was appointed as the overseer of Irkalla by Aleph Himself after austerities he observed! He who knows of all who enter his kingdom and leave. He must know of Jami!’ *If you wish to seek his council then approach him on your own. I cannot allow you boarding on my ferry for you are fully alive, Lest you be willing to kill yourself and return as a dead one to seek knowledge of your son? If you are willing to do so, then do, for I know no other way you can meet Dusashana, The Overseer of the Dead! But if you die, then you can never escape this abode to find your son, thus that endeavor will be in vain!’ Babeel knelt and clasped his hands *can you not think of a way? Can you not arrange our meeting?* *Nay! I cannot! For I have already humored you long enough! Dusashana still remains slighted by you, after the churning of Kshirsagar which you yourself oversaw, He performed a thousand years Tapasya before the haoma river; for that was the closest to Aleph an earth dweller could be. He shorn off his hair and stayed without provision in the same poise for a millennia Till the Malaika descended and took him to Aleph. Aleph of Mercy great, accepted his penitence and told him to stay wary of your lot, you being their king. Dusashana acquiesced and Aleph appointed him as a ruler of Irkalla! A grand position! So no amount of your pleasing will work before him, Your pleading that has come about only to retrieve your son! Go now and trouble me no longer! A great surge of the dead I have to convey! Go Babeel the Damned!* Babeel could not stop the ferryman and watched him disappear into the dark cavern. *However much time has passed, I care not! Mount Carthassus is where I shall go!* Akhdar Masih continued his tale to Yashtan ‘Surely Babeel travelled to Carthassus in the West without fail, Where he shied away from the women maddened by Jami’s tune. He searched long in every cave, in every furrow A thorough search behind each tree and in every thicket, but he did not find his son!’ ‘But where had Jami gone?’ Yashtan asked ‘With each death and rebirth, Jami became aware evermore Of how he was different from both the mortals and the immortals. He alone was allowed to face death, but rise yet again. It was a fact that both unnerved him, threw his soul in disarray But also made him slightly imperious. He knew his escape from Irkalla was not a task he achieved on his own, Rather the entire realm conspired to get him out; His heart preserved after every onslaught to be harvested for a renewed body, Held greater meaning. Jami sought answers, and knew Babeel had none. Babeel was his father and the young Jami missed him terribly, but he surmised That further dwelling with Babeel would perhaps engender many a deaths more, And Jami wanted rest from such brutality. So like Dusashana, the Overseer of Irkalla, Jami found a desolate tract of land Where he felt no man or immortal would disturb his asceticism. He spent a good many mortal years, and he prayed a great deal! *Oh Aleph! Oh Aleph! King of All, Great Architect of the Universe and beyond, Fashioner Supreme! Witness of my miseries! Listener of cries! I kneel before you, a hollow vessel of clay, One you impregnated with a most tortured soul, when you cast me upon the potter’s wheel! I need not even speak for you already know my heart, yet I’ll say it all. I’ll say it all if you wish to hear! How many times more am I to be torn apart? How many times more am I to be made a mockery before man and immortals, Before you are satisfied of my loyalty? I belong to none but you! I implore before none but you! Then why do you not respond to my pleas? Why do you not tell me that which you wish to accomplish with my troubles? And I will not depart from your threshold, even if another death may follow me where I kneel! Rather, I will embrace it! Come what may but nay, I shan’t leave! Never! I was an infant and could not resist when your monsters came to take me, And nightmares tormented me whilst growing up, all of which I endured for you told me so! Your angels came to me in dreams and I allowed myself to be trampled beneath the feet of that beast for you told me so! I travelled through hell for your council and escaped for you told me so! I have sworn eternal celibacy, I have given up my kith and kin and love for you told me so! Yet you will not tell me what it is that will satisfy you! Tell me now, oh Lord tell me!* And lightning struck the ground around Jami’s poise, but harmed him not. A crisp sheath of light wafted through a break in the clouds and embraced Jami, It lifted him up and balanced him within its soft arms. It was cool and tender and Jami was inspired with words that none save Jami could have heard *So be it, Child of the Tree! Travel to the northlands where you were first born, Where your half brother dropped you to enter Irkalla, To the land of the four seasons, To its highest slopes, between two snow capped peaks. Where the ice melts in pearly rivers and into five mouths it divides, Wait and kneel! Exercise patience and await my council! You shall find your answers and you shall find me! Though it is in your heart where I dwell, but up there is where you will feel me most present!* The light placed Jami in the same poise it had roused him from. Jami was overwhelmed by such divine care that he cried a single tear of joy, Still overtaken with incredulity but then jumped in glee, that young lad Jami, And with his mantle around his shoulders, and in hand, the staff shod with pine cone, He left the western land of Carthassus, Atop a raft of milky billows made by Aleph’s magic. He travelled to the land of the four seasons, that city named Babel, And towards it’s estuary he travelled, treading the five rivers till all five became one, For that is where he was told to be. He stopped and with a bunch of dates and grapes, retired in a nearby cave Where again for a year he sojourned as a hermit, but in serenity. Away from the prying eyes of his father, From his envious many brothers (either born of Babeel’s alliances or directly through Babeel), From Ishnan, though he missed them all. And during that year, Aleph gave Jami, through his staff, the power to bring forth a magical stream; Milky white and delectable, which still flows in Alakapur. Sweeter than distilled honey and brighter and whiter than the gleaming pearls of Ishnan’s Oyster shell! Jami’s supply of dates and grapes never dried. Each night when he slept, they’d be replenished. At dawn he’d rejoice, and till the onset of dusk he’d enjoy a hearty meal!’ ‘But what did Aleph require Jami to do?’ Yashtan asked ‘Certainly that asceticism was not in vain. Aleph tested Jami’s perseverance and Jami had great perseverance indeed. When his time devoted to asceticism was done, Jami received a message from Aleph about what he is ought to do. He was shown a good sight on a heavenly tier which gave him all the knowledge he needed. And so inspired was Jami by what he’d seen that he was willing to die a many deaths more if that were required, But Aleph had tested Jami enough!’ ‘And what of Babeel? Did he quit his vain travels in search of Jami? Surely Jami prevaricated Babeel on all occasions, Rather Aleph made it so they’d never meet, He kept an astute watch on Jami is that not so?’ ‘Aye! Aleph’s hand weighed heavily on Jami and neither have met since. But Babeel did not cease his search for his beloved son, He continued touring the universe for a slightest catch of Jami’s glimpse, But it was a useless endeavor!’ ‘Where did Babeel venture after he left Irkalla without results?’ ‘Babeel travelled to Mt Carthassus as I said, but when he did not find Jami He searched the deep oceans, spoke to animals both on land and sea. He sought Ishnan, who he considered one cunning woman; He thought she had intimate knowledge for having gone to Irkalla and returning unharmed, But he could not find her anywhere, no woods, no water body, nowhere. He sent incensed Lughanshesh in search of his mortal brother And Lughanshesh searched as he was wont to do as an obedient son but found no trace of Jami. Babeel did all in his power save giving up on his ego and seeking Aleph’s council. When no scheme availed him, he opted to travel to the Realm of the Sages. ‘What? But how could Babeel the Damned have come to Heaven? Tell me oh Akhdar Masih, in detail of how Babeel entered the tier of the sages? And what dialogue occurred between the two parties?’ ‘Those days the sages dwelled in a neutral realm, neither in heaven nor in hell. The sages unnamed engaged in austerity, observing severe penances, Even though they have yet to be born and are as sinless as a cherub. They courted none who intruded their abode, For oft it was the Muarij, the mischevious ones in particular, after the Asara and the Vanara war, Who came to the sages’ realm and eavesdropped on their conversation. And the three did not often speak to one another lest it be a matter of great concern, Thus it was there where Babeel travelled, to speak to the three and coax them into revealing some information of Jami. Many a Malaika seldom brought them news from the Weavers, so they only knew but little. And to those three Babeel went, found them poised before the well linked to the one of the three Weavers Divine. They busied themselves with scribbling upon their yellowed parchments with great zeal. Babeel intruded and watched earnestly, what they wrote, But it was in a script alien to him, A script till now undiscovered for the sages write in the language of the place and time they will be born on earth. The sages were not oblivious to Babeel’s presence, but they did not humor him Till he jolted one of them severely and forced their attention toward himself And he said *Hearken my words oh sages divine, do you know why I come to you?* The sages were aware of his reason for travelling to their home But they feigned ignorance and shook their heads together. *I come to ask you of Jami, a son of mine! I know you are aware of him and make a feint at oblivion. Entertain me and answer my questions so I can make from your abode a hasty exit.* The sages, pious and kind could not lie much and were quick to respond to him. When they saw him pouting in the most puerile manner, his lips quivering and eyes swelling with tears, they said *What do you want to know of Jami?* the eldest asked. *Where does Jami stay? Since his miraculous entry and leave from Dusashana’s realm, none knows where he went! He left his traces in the mystical wine of Carthassus, in the women crazed by his music, Yet I cannot find him! Has he been killed yet again? Will he come back? He always comes as my son, will he come this time as mine too? Or is he alive and loitering to prevaricate me?* *We know not where he currently is for our mind goes blank beyond it. We are only aware that he is alive and well, Though whether on earth or some other realm, we do not know.* Babeel sighed in relief knowing Jami was alive, But equally disappointed for the three did not tell him where he stayed *What else do you know of Jami?* *We know a certain fact which we had hoped to keep hidden from you, To save you further misery, but you sought us out to increase your knowledge, And thus you shall have it. We know that in the future you shall meet Jami!* At this Babeel smiled *Then why would this cause me further misery, Tis a fact that overwhelms me with great joy!* *Nay it will cause you great trouble indeed!* the younger one said. *It says that Jami will meet you once again but in the form of your slayer. Mature in years, guised as a warrior, upon a mount of terrible countenance; It shall be a mount of loathly eyes; Enraged and crimson they will be, And it shall have slavering ravenous jaws. It shall come either from below the earth, or from above the earth, It will approach you in a howling gust and it will scare you first by devouring the heavenly bodies . Its bridle will be under none but Jami’s control. He will goad it to lodge it’s fangs into your bod and devour you whole. None of your cunning devices then would work, None of your sons born either of your wives or through your self would then come to your aid, For Jami will bring to your wretched existence a definite end. And an offspring of Jami will rise, swerving a fiery sword longer than a thousand leagues, And if the weapon only be so long, imagine the stature of its wielder, And with that sword that child of Jami, and therefore your child too, Would cut in half all of your offspring. It will be your twilight oh Murj. You all then shall be rushing haplessly within Irkalla, and brought before Dusashana, the Overseer, Who still remains slighted by your erstwhile rebuffs. Nothing will deviate him from his resolve of presenting you before the Great Architect. So seek however much of Jami you desire, He shall come to you now only when your end is destined. So rejoice and await this final meeting with your darling son, He that shall bring your downfall!* When the younger sage was done, he watched Babeel step back gaping. Then to add further to Babeel’s injury the youngest one said *He is quite right Babeel. You and Jami will meet again eons later and shall contest each other for the cosmos. You will be then, as you are now, an egoistic, self-obsessed Murj, While your son would have achieved supreme enlightenment and would act as Aleph’s emissary to obliterate both you and your kin. He will approach you on a serpentine creature, Typhon like and smite you most brutally. He will wound you both body and soul, And though it might break his heart to smite his own father, He will approach you regardless, resolute in Aleph’s plan!* The eldest nodded. Hoary and more knowledgeable than the other two, *We care not for the mount, for it could be either a kinnaar of a million yojanas in an otherworldy realm, or either eagle headed creature, dark winged and human shaped , or Uchaishravas which often comes to aid Holy Beings. But know this that the celestials in the Heaven will conspire with Jami to slay you, The Malaika will descend in legions to aid him and bring your end. Perhaps provide him with Heaven made assets to strike you!* Thus Babeel returned, disappointed more than when he had first come to the Sages realm. But now he had knowledge of Jami’s stature as an agent of his doom. He returned to his home, between those two mountains with conflicted emotions, And he whose pride surpassed all other sentiments, resolved to never seek out Jami again, despite his yearning. He awaits now the day, when his most beloved son would come before him heavily armed, Straddling some vicious monster with the singular vision of slaying him, And Babeel decided to smite Jami with equal resolve!* CHAPTER FIVE Then Yashtan watched Akhdar Masih turn his face away, Yashtan said ‘I understand now why you tell me Jami’s tale. I understand Jami, who is a beloved of Aleph has been gravely tested, And will be tested further to exreme, when later he will meet his own father with the sole purpose of killing him!’ ‘Indeed but none knows, whether it will be Jami or someone from his progeny, For the sages often act as soothsayers and turn predictions into cruel riddles to torture evil ones, But none knows and none shall till the time comes for Babeel to meet his end.’ ‘I understand Oh Akhdar Masih, But I recall you did not tell me of what Aleph showed Jami that made him completely surrender to His will? What was it that overwhelmed him and made him subservient to the Divine Decree? And is there more to Jami’s story? Do you know where Jami loiters? How is his presence masked from the prying eyes of Babeel and his Murj kind? Is he even alive or was that too a riddle made by the sages?’ ‘Of course, I will answer all your questions for I need not from you the truth! I will begin by showing you that which Jami saw that day, that made him a sincere servant of Aleph! Come!’ Akhdar Masih, with one hand holding the coffer and other placed tenderly on Yashtan’s shoulder, Led him along a path and the two were pulled into a gyre and brought to a lush garden. Several streams rushed past each other, crashing onto rocks, Their margins decorated with emerald green thickets. Knee high grass as smooth as velvet carpet was home to many a tiny creatures of plumed pinions; Butterfly winged fairies with golden manes and shining limbs. The cool fog collected above the streams and formed a blue aureole above the grass blades. The trees were huge with lush canopies that entirely sheltered the garden. They were laden with flowers of all kinds; those Yashtan had seen on earth and those he had not, And plump fruits of all colors, the bees swarmed the flowers and pricked them with their sharp stings. Not one flower stood without a swarm of bees to prick their swelled bodies, it exuded juice and the fragrance was carried by the swerving winds, Which rose up and came down to brush the tops of the high grass. Squirrels with bushy tails, larger than the earthly ones, swiftly moved about the foliage and rushed up the tree stems. Butterflies whose each wing was stippled with silver, like stars, margined with at least a thousand colors. What a beauteous display it was! Yashtan wished to quit all appetite and retire in the gardens for all eternity. Akhdar Masih watched Yashtan stop and look up at the cool sky peeping through the thick green canopies. ‘I know it is the most alluring sight, and it is indeed, But this is perhaps the dullest tract of what these gardens have to offer!’ ‘What do you mean Akhdar Masih? This alone is enough to goad me into doing your bidding! Is there anything better than this? Is this alone not what caused Jami to become Aleph’s servant?’ Akhdar Masih smiled ‘Nay! What Jami saw had nothing to do with this garden’s beauty, Rather it was an epiphany, of a task he had been born to serve!’ ‘Then show me, Oh Akhdar Masih, I feel anxious to know what it is!’ ‘Come then!’ and Akhdar Masih took him close to one of the streams, Hovered one foot above the water so a small raft was constructed and he hoisted himself atop it, Yashtan did the same, the two then traversed the Heavenly realm And inspired the fragrant flowers and foliage carried by the zephyrs all about them. He saw the distant mountains crowned with moist clouds that moved around them. Falcon faced mounts with heavenly beings held aloft in the sky and never alighting. The Kinnars; semi equine and semi human roamed and raced about green tracks with no trees but stretch of grass carpets. There were gardens with low trees whose trails swept the ground and caressed the beds and seatings lined with silk brocade, Upon which reclined comely dames garbed in soft pink gowns and brows resplendent with ornate jewelry. Their necks decked with gold and silver and their ears with pearled tassels. Their eyes were either cool amethysts or warm opals. Their wings were not meant for flight but for decoration, and their feet were delicate, adorning anklets. Lute playing fauns fully clothes in blue linen gadded about the woods. Infant bodied Cherubim with chubby limbs and ruddy cheeks flew low, close to the ground, still learning the art of flight. It was a sight one would vie for all eternity. The two; Yashtan and Akhdar Masih then entered a space which teemed with moisture and blue clouds trekking low. The raft stopped and Akhdar Masih got off, he gestured Yashtan to do the same. ‘Follow me’ Akhdar Masih said. Yashtan could not see anything, Each step he felt he would fall for he walked on a floor of clouds. ‘Where are we?’ ‘You’ll see Yashtan!’ slowly the clouds began to move apart and a nebulous view the two perceived. It became gradually distinct and when they had walked close enough, Yashtan fell back overcome with both horror and awe, for it was a daunting sight. There was a tree, about a million leagues in width and many more in length, It’s foliage was not green but pink and sparsely distributed. It’s canopy spread out the entire expanse of the heavenly sky and it’s roots were wound round the clouds. Atop it’s bowering canopy perched an avian creature both terrible and handsome; A body stout and golden winged, eagle faced and sharp eyed. It cawed and stood upright atop the highest bough which was strong enough to bear its massive weight.

Picture 21 Sir Mirai and the seed of Jami's tree. Yashtan had lost all comprehension. ‘That is who you call the SirMirai, the Bird of Heaven which never alights. Its wings, if touched and if it wills, will burn you yet they are not made of fire. It is a light most unique to it. If it darts an angry gaze at you, you will die of fear, But if it glances at you with tenderness, no evil then can harm you. It alone can go to the highest heavens where no other creature can, It can settle at the foot of Aleph’s throne, and it only ever comes low near the ground (though not to alight) when it portends a nation’s doom, but there is more…’ Akhdar Masih held the hand of Yashtan, whose faculties were numbed. He brought him in front of the tree and Yashtan was struck with ever more awe. The tree’s stem was swollen at the center and covered with a surfeit of woody veins pumping heavenly Haoma into the womb, Where coiled, in an infantile manner and covered by swiping hair of pure blackness, over which the bubbles of Haoma moved like stars spangling on a night sky, Was a sexless being of massive stature; its navel attached to the cord which nourished it with the haoma and when Yashtan stared carefully at the face, It had the same features as his own! Akhdar Masih said, ‘This is the child of the tree, The Progenitor of Doom and one who bears Jami! Look closely and you will see the heart gently beating!’ Yashtan looked and indeed saw the heart within its translucent flesh. Yashtan had regained control of his faculties and asked ‘Akhdar Masih, what is this? Why do I so greatly resemble this being, I do not understand the meaning of the Progenitor of Doom!’ ‘This is the tree that was made when Aleph created the Universe. With creation, destruction is eminent for all that is created must come to an end, and so this tree was made! Look, this is the only tree in the entire heaven that bears no fruit, for this being bears the mortal that serves as this tree’s fruit. It delivers a singular bloom when an end is foretold and brings forth the one who will bring it about. It can be either a man or a woman, and this bird, The great SirMirai, catches and cushions the newborn upon its wings. For that purpose alone it leaves its high perch and comes down to collect the infant and when it does, it casts its shadow on a nation that is to end. The newborn it then carries to its eyrie above and nurtures it till it is mature enough to be born on earth. You must know, even the terrifying Daab who now rests trapped under the ocean belly was birthed by this very tree. This time, SirMirai has collected a newborn who did not descend to earth as Jami, rather a child of Jami’ ‘Who?’ Yashtan inquired anxiously ‘Tell me O Akhdar Masih, who is it that has been born in this cycle?’ ‘It is you Yashtan! You are a child of the tree, just like Jami!’ ‘Me?! I have been born of the Divine Tree?’ ‘Aye! You have, so now you know you are not an artificial being as the Irkalla Dwellers taunt you. You had been carved and fashioned from an earthly clay blob But your heart and your soul are of Aleph’s making and it was that which brought you to life, Enabled you to feel and made you a man fully alive! So believe not that which agents of evil whispers taunt you with For you as natural as any other on earth and beyond!’ ‘And I am Jami’s son? How could that be? Jami would need a heart to continue living, because Jami is alive, is he not?’ ‘Aye Jami is alive, but he no longer needs that heart. He now exists upon Aleph’s Miracle and that alone is sufficient to facilitate his living, And you on that fateful day, received both Jami’s heart and soul. And now your last question- where is Jami, well Yashtan, your answer stands before you!’ ‘I don’t understand!’ Yashtan said. Akhdar Masih stepped back, swiped a hand over his aged visage and Yashtan was in awe of what he saw, As if he looked into a mirror, there before him A young man, what Yashtan would have looked like had he been fashioned to be a few years younger.

Picture 22 Yashtan realizes that he has been made in Jami's image. ‘I am Jami, the one you have been made to resemble! And within your breast beats a heart that was once mine and empowering you is a soul that once empowered me This time harvested solely for you upon divine orders issued to me And I had awaited you and awaited to reveal the truth to you. And I am Jami indeed , the son of Babeel; Babeelputra. The one who dies and lives; Kristos The one whose blood brings either abundance or plague; Varada. And I am the fourth sage and the twice born; Pitamaha, Dwijas. And perhaps I will not be born again. Unlike the sages I am not meant to scribble derivative tales of battle you will soon fight, Rather I am tasked with enlightening future heroes and giving them wisdom, Enabling them to choose the right path. And I was a sage even then when father Babeel came to inquire of me But I had escaped to another realm to keep away from him. Oh how I longed for us to meet just once as father and son, and provide him some comfort. Perhaps this familial yearning will never cease, but such is fate and what my duty entails!’ Akhdar Masih sighed ‘So now you know more than most! You know now the stature of your birth, Of your father both in spirit and body, thus you can make your own decision!’ ‘But I am at a crossroads! Those wretched brothers of hell hamper my thinking and goad me into choosing an evil path with their inexorable whispering. They conflict me evermore each moment about my path. I do not wish to harm Da’abah but she stands against Babeel whom you deem wretched, Her doctrine of self-worship and self-deification is no different from his! She too apotheosizes herself and holds herself inferior to none. She claims to be both god and goddess, the beginning and the end, so what am I to do? I am a weak mortal, being marionetted by immortals that possess powers great! Tell me what to do? Betray Daibah or betray the Muarij? ‘Sadly it is a question even I have no answer to. It is something you must choose on your own, so choose wisely as one born of this tree And as for the powers of the immortals, forget not that you have been gifted with something no other has The power to subdue the entire muarij kind alone! The power to weaken them if not to slay them!’ ‘It is something I keep forgetting for they have me under duress!’ ‘Aye! They do! But you must understand the power of the full murj force rushes through you!’ Yashtan had many more questions to ask, but Jami had ended the vision and returned him to reality. When he awoke he had been placed on the bed and Daibah stared at him, standing near the window. A lot was spoken with her eyes and she did not circumambulate nor pamper him when he came to and was quick to ask whatever it was she wished to ask him. ‘I believe it is time when we had a lengthy discussion about your intention in this city.’ ‘What do you know?’ Yashtan asked her. ‘That shouldn’t matter. It is you who has come to this city with malicious intent and married me, hoping you’d be able to slay me! Well all you have been able to kill for now is the little trust that I had developed in you. You have lost it. You can rest in this bed tonight, but tomorrow first thing at daybreak, I want you out of this city. None of the muarij could kill me, so they send a mortal for that end, how pathetic. I am thoroughly slighted, that they believed a human could kill me when their entire lot was unable to! Here, hold this knife, lets see how good you are at killing and lets see whether I can withstand the stab of a knife. I believe stab on one’s trust is far more fatal than one delivered on the body.’ And though he was embarrassed for he had been caught, He had never been eager to take her life. He lowered his head ‘I know what I did was wrong, I deceived you, but you must understand I was utterly confused. They made me for their own goal and when I could not do what they wanted of me they sent their emissaries to torture me. Even at the pinnacle of misery, I resisted from the purpose they gave me; to kill you. Are you not alive? Are you not breathing? Did I ever harm you? There was a certain point when I could endure their torture no longer, in a moment of weakness I surrendered, but a moment alone and that was all. For your sake I’ve rebelled with my makers and am now under threat. As are you. We are not different, you and I, so do not doubt me.’ ‘Of course when they manufactured a husband, they must have endowed you with the power of persuasion. I am aware of how upon your arrival in the city, like a flute playing pathetic tramp, you lured young women with soft music. Do you think I am as pathetic as those maidens!’ Then Yashtan grew irate and stepped back ‘Why do you not understand? Why are you so impossible to speak with? Do you not see that I forego that duty only to keep you safe!’ ‘Tell me, how strong are you? For one to be able to endure the torments of hell dwellers, One needs to possess remarkable fortitude. You are a hybrid of all those monsters are you not? Aye you are! And because of you I have cohabited with demons! Then how dare you say you have not deceived me, I have been violated by that entire lot without having knowledge of it! Nay! Nay! I was aware you were not entirely human, In fact I should have known early on that you are not human at all. None could have gone beyond the first stage of that archery contest! None could and yet you did! Those feats were impossible. You did! You fooled me!’ ‘I did not deceive you throughout. I gave up on this endeavor long ago. You can think whatever you want because I cannot change that, but I will not allow you to label me a monster. They call me an artificial clay doll And you tag me a monstrous hybrid. Nay, I am neither of those I am a human through and through. I have a human heart I have a human mind I have a human soul I think, feel and act human Then nothing the world says should matter to me! It is you who is not human. Is it not true? You are the daughter of the Da’ab! Then how can you label me? Why do you not give up this revolt against the muarij? If you continue with this then it will not fare well for you!’ ‘Please leave! I do not want you here anymore!’ ‘I am sorry. I can’t!’ ‘How dare you?’ ‘I know you don’t want me to leave either. But you are too proud to admit it. Tell me why are you so adamant to affront the immortals when you know that they can ruin everything? Is it a grudge? Did something happen when you were young?’ ‘Stop it!’ ‘Then something did indeed happen!’ Yashtan continued to convince the queen but she refused to speak to him. He had then held her and forced her to speak of her past and after great struggle she acquiesced. BOOK SIX (The tale of Daibah) CHAPTER ONE Washed ashore in an infantile poise, Her long black hair secured her modesty which billowed with the passing tides on her body; Ebony skinned, and sinewy limbed; the golden sand spots clung to her wet body Like stars glimmering in the night's sky. Within a thick amniotic enclosure as she struggled to breathe, she lay between life and death. Her heaving sighs were heard by a pedestrian close by, Who rushed to aid her with a knife withdrawn From the folds of his garments. He struck the knife into the added skin upon her, And released her from the protective prison troubling her. The man, though hoary and gaunt, and perhaps a priest of the temple; For seeing her rouse from near death, and enclosed strangely within a second skin, Blushed, with rouge showing through his sallow visage. For she, like a new born babe, was unaware of her clothelessness. As the sun declined, and the variegated horizon welcomed evening, In the distance, upon a trail of thick and bubbly foam, An oyster shell floated further away from the shore. The old man, partly diverting his gaze from the waking maiden, Watched the shell disappear. His own loosened garb wrapped upon a linen shirt, He removed and put over her, and she then opened her eyes. Like the ocean spread under a sunlit sky, her eyes vacillated between a myriad colors; At first blink like distinct patches of blue and purple, at second blink like lilac orbs, As if the colors mixed in her eyes like a painter's canvas. The old man then knelt before her, clasped his hands and genuflected; He rubbed his forehead several times on the sand, chanted frequently certain prayers. They began as small syllables then grew louder as he began to weep. Raising his arms to the sky, looking up at the changing colors, The evening fully spread upon the horizon, The young girl was then aware. 'Do you answer my prayers now oh Flute-player ? You bring me for your mother's reception! Fresh and wrapt within the shell of the Divine tree, As if newly cast down from heavenly wings of SirMirai, River Farer and ancient Ocean Dweller, ShomaKali incarnate, For she is dark as Irkalla's blazing bod, and as pristine as a soul reborn After the purifying fires have washed all sins from it's dweller's pallete! You give us a princess to be your newlywed, You give us a tribute for our temple, centuries long deserted. Lo! You give us answer for you have accepted our kill; The best black bull we secured for your alter despite the devouring famine. Nay! I cannot be mistaken for she is indeed the Maiden Divine, Lest my eyes betray me and what I saw was not an oyster shell, Which left its ebony pearl on Hind's shore. I hear the distinct mooing of the Sacred Cow, who too is a bovine incarnation of Great Ishnan? Would not then Hinda know her sister own? What does this one's life foretell the Weavers seated before the Well? Is she to tread Ishnan's path, heartbroken and feet bleeding, The red footprints that stretch from Hind to Mount Meru? Strongly imprinted upon the ground, neither washed by rain or sea water, Nor covered by heaps of northern snow! None can soil marks of holy Ishnan's feet, and none can soil this maiden you send on our shores. We thank you, great Lord Jami, Babeelputr, Prajapati, you born of Hiranyagarbha , and fed upon the milk of Hind Kamadhenu! Shukra! Shukra! Shukra! A thousand words of thanks, With unending and unceasing love and tears I take now this maiden to your temple home!' The man's chanting ceased, and he neared the young girl, Who withdrew her arm quickly from his grasp. She put his white garment around like a mantle, and refused to move. She struggled with words for she did not know any, whatever she knew, She had learnt then and there from the man's long prayer. He moved and lifted her forcefully, but she yelled. Unable to run for she knew not how to, and when the man was violent, she hit him. She walked away from the shore. The old man followed her, but when she entered the streets, she watched a many peopled procession, Each foot bathed in either blood or red paint and each hand held a bunch of roses, whose thorns pricked the holder's flesh, The hands bled, the cheeks all wet with tears, the skin was pale and the clothes were worn. Men were shorn bald, the women's hair was tousled. They held out life sized effigies stuffed with straw or cotton wool. It was a dark trudge, save two torch bearers placed at the start and the end of the party. The man who followed her, stopped when he watched the stretch of weeping people transfixed by the young woman appalled by what she saw. She was as comely as the heavenly Apsara, Her feet were smooth and decorated as if by sand slippers, Her neck was naturally bedazzled by silver scales aligned as a necklace. Her lovely eyes were streaked with natural blue and black kohl. Her coral lips quivered as she watched the man rush toward the party and address them passionately 'Behold this fine maiden washed ashore by the grace of Lord Jami. Like an ebony pearl tossed upon our shores by a wide mouthed oyster shell, The black incarnation of Mother Ishnan! Aye! I saw it with my own eyes, She awoke upon the setting sun, became aware at the onset of evening. While you lead Lord Jami's procession, tis no coincidence that she comes herself before you! Check the silver streaks of amnion still adhering to her skin; tis proof she comes from Divine Tree! See her red feet with remnants of Jami's blood still clinging to her; tis proof she is ShomaKali after her parting from Irkalla! Our prayers have been answered! Our prayers have been answered! Babeelputr accepts our fine bull, it's meat within our bellies will now fructify, His blessings will yield rice, corn, fruit, vegetables, Invisible Kamadhenu who has long been vicious to us will now provide its milk! Aye! The gods are satisfied, so now we'll observe a holy pilgrimage to Alakapur's plains, barefoot. Where the Lord in his infancy was taken for care, and where he was stolen from his cradle! End this mourning! End this wailing! For we have been blessed! Come and partake in the foam that still froths above the water surface! Bring your finest chalices and fill them with this blessed foam! Appoint her as the overseer of Babeelputra's temple! Lather her first with clay commingled with a drop of the blood of the Hiranyagarbha-born, Bathe her in the sweetened milk taken from swelling streams of Kamadhenu And anoint her with the oils squeezed from Tamarisk!' The maiden in great consternation watched the entire lot run and fall in prostration. They hummed in unison some incoherent words, and grabbed her to kiss her feet. The whole procession dropped their torches and cast their effigies into the sea. Threw away the rose bunch on the street for genuflection. The men hoisted her upon their shoulders though when she resisted; They tied her with ropes and pulled a sack cloth over her, Then carried her for a long walk to the distant temple. It's two steeples rose to the sky like devil's horns, And it's black dome was finely polished to resemble Babeel's burnished crown. It was tiled with marble, decorated with pillars of lapis lazuli, The path to the temple was lined with short trees over which the cold, moist air beat repeatedly. The salted winds cast by the sea howled viciously. The men threw the cowls over their heads, the women wrapped themselves in coarse mantles. The maiden protested but none gave it a thought. The zealous old man; Having discovered both the maiden and her godsend status lead the party. He was certainly to be rewarded with a bag of silver, and several servings of grains when the famine withdrew; And they were confident that the famine would indeed withdraw, for the gods on high delivered their token of appeasement. When they reached the temple, the young woman was put down And poised such that she leaned against one of the many silk brocaded pillars. 'Her feet should not touch unholy ground! She is to wear no slippers, but tread barefoot in the Temple and stay there! She is not to leave the Temple, nay, never, For she will be provided with all in her dwelling!' The orders came from a priestess. She had her placed upon a cart which she with two others wheeled inside the temple grounds, Away from the eyes of others. Checked the young girl's feet for swellings; to ensure she was indeed Ishnan incarnate, But when the priestess detected none, she took a wooden stick and hit her repeatedly! The girl screamed but the ruthless woman's beating did not cease. 'Oh Great Priestess! What is it that you do? Hurl not your vicious staff upon her delicate feet! Is this how you treat great Ishnan's second birth? Do this not lest you wish for some omen from the skies, Lightning flashes to herald your end! Babeel will smite you if you continue!' 'Quiet! Quiet!' The grand priestess hushed her associates. 'Her feet are reddened perhaps by henna, The old man claimed she emerged from sea foam, enclosed in divine amnion, Though I have yet to bathe her, she is clean of any speaks of that fluid! I know not whether the old man lies or whether he tells the truth, This is no newborn, but perhaps some girl of low intellect that old man sought to lust over. Great Ishnan was born a virgin and left Irkalla a virgin too, Then check this girl for her maidenhead, and perhaps we might come surprised! If she were the Ishnan reborn, her feet should be cut and bruised!' 'What is it you say Priestess? We saw the pristine foam bubbling upon the sea surface, And a phantasm of that oyster shell distant, twinkling like the north star lying low in the skies. Remember the sacred lessons of our youth; "When comes the Mate and Mater of Ernesipeplus , The Irkalla star shall gleam bright for her welcome!" Change not now the doctrine we've been long taught owing to your disbelief! Or the envy that eats you, thinking she will now occupy an oracle's hold on the temple, A position which you've long held without much vying! Nay! Let not your mortal feelings soil your years' long study of ancient doctrines! And if we check her maidenhead, and if we were to ruin her, Or via some mistake, spoil that which segregates her from our mortal kind, Then the wrath of the gods will be upon us! See her neck embellished with serpentine scales, She comes from Naak! See her lovely eyes, they are like the oceans, with myriad colors whirling her lids naturally kohled. Her feet are lotus colored, her skin is darker than coal, Her hair even blacker, like the blackness of the universe enshrouds her! And lo! It was you, was it not, who prayed for the gods to send forth a sign, Whether our sacrifices placated them? Then why do you act with such acrimony? Or were they hollow orisons, done to feign belief before an unlearned townsfolk? Then again the wrath of the gods will be upon you! So act not like this, or you will encircle us all within a fiery tempest, Brought forth by the gods displeased with your actions!' 'How do you run your mouth unchecked before me, who has been your preceptor for so long. Teach me not the Sacred Doctrines which I have taught you since your youth, And make me not open my mouth about your queer nature, how you whelp like a mongrel before beauteous women! Indeed she is otherworldly and that I deny not, but I do not take her for a rebirth of the Great Goddess Divine; Whom I love and adore as both a mother and a teacher. This girl is perhaps one of the Yakshas kind, cast down by an angry cloud passing through heaven, Or perhaps an Apsara sent forth from heaven; though if that were so she'd be clad in pure white, and not lying nude on the shore!' 'I say we do what we are supposed to do; lather her in clay with Jami's blood, bathe her in milk and anoint her in tamarisk oils. We should not conspire against her, for when the gods send a gift, we ought to accept it without wrangling about it. Come let us not argue further and cause delay, the temple has long been closed, Let us reopen it with grand celebrations, pour libations, fill the tables with the best fruits and arrange for the lute player. Bring the dancers! If indeed she is not Ishnan then the gods will contrive to have her removed. For they will not accept a pretender in their temple! She will either die an unnatural death, or wither away with the wind, And forget not our annual sacrifice, she shall be cast into Agni; If the fire burns her then she is not the Goddess, If instead she puts the fire out, then indeed we have been blessed!' Despite her scowling and continuous wrangling, the Head Priestess resolved to preparing the girl as tribute. And whilst the bathing ceremony, the priestesses grew anxious, For the girl was quick to adopt their tongue and spoke fluently. Her first word was 'Daab', and when this word was uttered, there was great chatter in the baths. 'The bronze mace was hurled upon the Aleph's Daab, And two severed members were cast down into the oceans. Both thrived and nurtured upon the foam produced; One by the dissolving foreskin and the other by the dissolving naval. The former was absorbed by a small oyster, which swelled with the mass growing within it, And the foam begat upon it Ishnan of blue hair- child of the waters, comelier than the wine-bearing virginal Apsaras of Heaven. The latter, the naval was absorbed by a small oyster, which swelled with the mass growing within it. And the foam begat upon it me- the black skinned sea farer.' The Head Priestess initially gasped, but she thought the girl a great pretender. The girl scowled at the priestess for the many beating she received, and slapped away her hand. She protested and tried to escape from the baths, but she was held down by the women. 'Now you speak of being born akin to the Great Goddess! Where did you learn it? Tell us more about these accoutrements; The silver scales lining your neck, the redness of your feet, the dark tints of your eyes, Tell us what else you have to tell us!' But the girl said nothing save 'I am Daibah, call me that!' CHAPTER TWO Then in the temple she was appointed and it's strange, vile practices repulsed her. 'This cannot be the value of a woman. How can you reduce her to nothing but flesh?' And then she had addressed the head priestess 'You serve the purpose of this degenerate temple to increase yourself in rank! You believe not in these customs, I am well aware. How can you torture these mistresses so? How can you do this? If I am to be staying at this temple will you force me to forsake my honor too? Then nay! I shall flee! I shall flee this temple as fast I can!' And the slighted high priestess said 'Where will you go? There is nowhere for you to be but this temple! And such is the custom, I did not introduce these practices which so repulse you They have been practiced here for centuries! What makes you think a recalcitrant witch such as yourself will come and change them overnight? If you think so then you are surely wrong! Never will this happen! And aye, you too shall sit here in this temple and indeed retail your honor, And you shan't protest! Hush! Not a single word will you utter!' And though Daibah had protested, her protests fell on deaf ears She was taken to the chambers of the temple where many a young ladies had been defiled. At night she was told lord Babeel came and selected of the mistresses, one who he deemed worthy Of being initiated into his priesthood composed solely of women And though like a ghost Daibah had stayed up each night and travelled on temple grounds Searching for the Lord they were so eager to please, but none came No bullfaced monster descended the temple. There was none to save her and in utter despair she had looked on hatefully At the head priestess and her spiteful gazes had affronted the priestess. The priestess rushed to the temple of the sibyl, and to the old prophetess she said 'If you channel the ancient goddess then surely you must know of this newcomer in the temple. Daibah her name. Claims she to be the sister of Great Mother Goddess. If such is true then speak to me, tell me what it is we must do with her. Should we let her continue as a mistress at the temple? Should we heighten her ranks to that of myself? Whatever you say will be obeyed.' But the sibyl was mute and about the newcomer she had nothing to say. The high priestess felt great freedom in saying about Daibah whatever she felt And molding rumors however she pleased. So envious and hateful was the high priestess, she thought it fit to subject Daibah to the fiery test which was conducted annually Tributes were cast into the belching belly of the statue which stood at the centre of the city. Filled with blazing embers and the timbers emerged at the end as blackened cinders. The High priestess rushed to the temple where the mistresses sat awaiting nightfall And to them she addressed 'I have spoken to the sibyl and she too agrees with me. She tells us to perform earlier the burning ritual which discerns whether the tribute indeed is Ishnan incarnate or not. Since Daibah is to occupy a crucial spot in the temple, it is only fitting that we get this ceremony over and done with No need to wait for an omen whether it be a darkened or reddened moon or the descent of great lord Babeel in a bull form. No need to wait for a portent whether it be a dream sent either to the sibyl or myself or the appearance of Lord Jami above the Burning bull. For it is an omen enough that a mistress was sent to our temple in an oyster vehicle. We should hasten, perform the ritual within seven days or else some calamity will befall this city. So gather the city dwellers before the temple's gates and make this announcement The ceremony shall commence soon Tell them to prepare. Prepare the wreaths for their heads The colored water for their feet The torn garb for their bodies.' When Daibah heard the Priestess' words she was appalled And attempted to escape the temple. She went to every chamber, every room Even tried to push herself through the tiny window in the baths But she could not find an exit. They had bathed her in perfumes and lathered olive oil to style her hair, and wherever she ran her scent lingered in the lee rooms. It was easy for women to catch her thus, Women whose faculties of scent were so accustomed to every fragrance and odor that entered the temple Via bodies of the customers, or the flowers they brought with them, or the spices such as pulverized nutmeg which were distributed or the rose water sprinkled into every corner of the rooms. She was caught and brought before the assembly outside. Men, women, children, all beheld the spectacle of binding her hands and feet. She was set before the door post for all to see. 'Are you mad? Are you mad? Stop this! What have I ever done! You labelled me as an incarnation of your goddess You brought me to your temple yourself You placed me in a lofty position, When did I ever claim to be a goddess reborn? I was found on the shore by an old man and chased by him And when I fled you caught me. Now you seek to cast me into some consecrated fire! Are you mad! No fire is consecrated! Neither on earth, nor in hell! It burns without distinction be it mortal or immortal, none can be spared from those charnel flames. I'll reduce to ash! I certainly will! So attempt no tests for I am certain of the outcome and so are you! I will not live if you do this to me and I am innocent so do not do that which you will regret later The murder of an innocent!' But her words were unheard and her words were taken as nothing more than effrontery And there was no mercy for a young woman in the hearts of those who were accustomed to casting infants into the fire. And oft these processions were officiated by the High Priestess who although greatly abhorred by certain members of the city (Ones who had already wasted their infants in the fire) Was still followed with great devotion for it was believed she alone understood the words of the sibyl Who channeled the words of their great goddess divine, And with that held a position unmatched at the temple. Now she brought the sibyl before the people and asked her to speak to them. But again the sibyl had nothing to say and Daibah screamed ‘Hush, sickened I am with your recalcitrance!’ The priestess said ‘Do not invite woe upon yourselves by shoving an innocent into the fire, Babeel's wrath will be upon us all!’ CHAPTER THREE The single name was etched upon the ram's brazier belly 'Baal-beel' Plump with charnel dust of residents' babes A thousand windows encircled it, smoke pushed out from it What was the window for? Neither to look within nor to look without! But for Babeelputra's spirit to enter any one and select the choicest tribute! So full of fire, heated like furnace- none could withstand it's heat from a mile The holes carved into it's nose puffed out smoke when it's belly was full, and it's eyes glimmered red When their heightened fancies transfigured the cloud lighting above the device's horns Into a voluptuous, woman like frame, they knew Ishnan accepted their tribute The path on either side was torched, embers were fed to fuel the fire When the blazing ramparts could not be heightened further, They hoisted the injured girl upon their shoulders And walked toward the burning bull, tremulous and dizzy, yet she summoned all faculties To resign to the singular task of calling upon some deity in the skies Not many names she knew save Ishnan, Jami, Babeel; the father, the son and the virginal mother. ‘Whoever there is up on the heavens, help me! Help me! Help me! Goad whatever strength I have to overpower my weakness Aid me! Aid me! These wretched priestesses seek to kill me These men won't lend an ear to my pleas I am a suppliant today before you, whoever you are Are you the powerful Babeel, then help me as a daughter Are you the sweet Jami? Help me as a sister Are you the nurturing Ishnan? Then to you I direct this supplication For who better to aid a child than a mother concerned! Help me please I implore you! The One seated on the Heavens Help me!’ But her pleas were unheeded, she called out again for brutal death stood before her

Picture 23 Daibah being carried to the Burning Bull The procession engaged in fervent chanting ‘The tribute has been accepted The tribute has been accepted! And when thy body quells the fire Thy soul shall be replaced with Holy Hinda's’ The fire filled the burning bull and the smoke issued forth from its nostrils ‘The alarums ring and call for its tribute! Look above, the mother stands between the blessed horns!’ ‘Stop! Stop you wretches! Do you not see the evil of your actions? Oh priestess I beg of you to have mercy on me. I take back every spiteful word I said. I take back the curses I uttered to the blessed sibyl. Indeed I will be whoever you want me to be Jami's mater, Ishnan incarnate, Babeel's harlot! Make me whatever you desire, douse me in as much perfumes as you like. Smear upon me those unctuous fluids, till you are content But forego this endeavor! Please heed my pleas! Accept my apologies’ And she wept and anointed herself in her streaming tears But the mad procession's passion would not decrease! A momentary empathy swept across the priestess's face For a while she considered putting the madness to a halt But she was inflamed with the desire to keep a hold on the temple If Daibah were saved (for there was no other way she could be saved Save to stop the men from putting her into the flames, All knew the ritual was a farce) Daibah would be appointed head priestess! Now the smoke filled her heaving bosom and Upon the men's shoulders her unconscious body weighed heavily Unwilling to carry further her load, they tossed her most callously Into the belly of the fire, and heard her stifled cry midway through the throw And they awaited the flames to devour her, And witness Jami with splendorous wings descend and carry the tribute They envisioned Ishnan reunite with her son garbed in a white garb. But neither the flames died nor any deity came to claim their sacrifice! ‘Holy priestess indeed she was not Ishnan incarnate. That cunning man looted our treasury with his well concocted lies. Ah those silly visions of a distant oyster shell Pearl white ocean foam and Irkalla stars, perhaps he had taken too much to drink And with heightened fancies saw those vague images. Let's get him and toss him in this fire too! Liar! Liar! Liar! Ammun's flames are not just for clean palette It purifies the wicked too. That man has lied, so let these fires grant him absolution!’ But another man claimed ‘We too had seen the shell had we not, And the twinkling Irkalla star high in the evening sky, And the timing was as the sacred doctrines say *Between the sunset and the sunrise When the horizon's colors collate to black!* What a waste of such a lovely girl, had we not been so hasty, she could have been our temple's lead!’ ‘Now you mope though this act was precisely to establish her status as high temple priestess. But she was no celestial, although her beauty was celestial true!’ The men and the women turned to repair to their homes. Even the shapely cloud their fancies witnessed had returned to its incongruous shape As their anxiety for the ritual decreased. But a sudden bellowing from the bull's nostrils increased. The smoke issued from its many pores burst forth with fire The tough bronze frame began to crack then exploded. So teeming with pressurized smoke and fire, The burning shrapnels rose up high and ascended swiftly as sharp arrows aflame Those upon whom the small pieces fell were killed, some were spared Whilst the larger pieces were shot like boulders. It was a hellish sight indeed, as if the central furnace sought to cook every sinner within its proximity And the priestess, though a piece was hurled upon her, was spared as if some invisible spirit intervened and halted the blazing metal part. She stood up first appalled, then the epiphany that the tribute was godly indeed That the holy mother intervened to impale and burn some, while protect others. When the brazier fires ceased and the smoke patterns loomed above At the centre of the land where the device stood, Daibah sat unharmed. Those whom the fires hadn't burned witnessed their tribute's miracle. The priestess fell to her feet and prostrated before her. All who were spared death followed the priestess. Daibah stood up, her brow dark with fury, She darted a terrible gaze at those before her, And with some magic stirred the smoke and brought forth a flame The foolish natives thought she performed another miracle ‘Forgive us great mother incarnate for putting you through the fiery test! It was needed to certify that you were indeed a celestial who coursed the dark world. And returned unscathed to resume your earthly duties. Oh Queen of the world- who enjoins marriage upon all creatures, Who brings forth vegetation and pours down rain, You who keeps the Yakshas powers in check, You alone of the celestials immune to the fires of hell, Forgive our one indiscretion, forgive the tears which weighed down your lids because of us, Forgive our callous words which wounded your spirit!’ But as Daibah's words were unheeded by the priestess So were the priestess's words unheeded by Daibah And a great sound was heard, a distant calamitous sound Which nearly deafened everyone present. The tallest mountain top broke off The crack started at the pediment and reached the tip, There was at first a shower of swift flying raindrops, milk white and fragrant But when it touched the priestess's lips and introduced a sweet taste And when she looked at the high tide gushing forth from the mountain All yelled a singular cry and sought to disperse, And Daibah stirred a storm and set it ablaze to engulf every participant in her misery Because none came to aid her, none of the immortals whom she had called upon with great fervor She developed a terrible grudge. She was taken with the milky billows and for several years lived underwater, scheming against the muarij. She learned for she was quick to learn, the ways in which Babeel had propagated himself in human beliefs and with that method she too desired to do the same. She would become the goddess of her own city With her own followers and with her own temples and shrines and chants On the promontory of Babel she had come, wrapped by serpents, her filial mates, Who covered her modesty. In her long travels underwater she had conversed with the water creatures and had learned from them the mystical crafts. She read imprecations, cast illusions upon the citizens Before them, she looked down and fashioned the streams She looked to either side and envisioned mountains She looked above and covered the skies in mist And the gateway to the city she made a mystical chasm where soon the Wandering Sage took up residence. She integrated herself into the triple deity doctrine of the people Then gradually maligned them to become their sole goddess. She despised the name of Babeel and could not endure the city’s name. She renamed it to Alakapur! BOOK SEVEN (How the war commenced) CHAPTER ONE Without delay or ever stopping at the doors of Irkalla The two wretched brothers rushed to Babeel's dwelling where they were certain to find him And Babeel upon their arrival was eager to know of what news they brought For they were always armed with some terrible news and Babeel would lend an earnest ear to it 'Oh Babeel as you may have realized we come with news that would shake you severely. News that would cause a furore amidst your clansmen and you will hasten earthward to rectify whatever has conspired. But nay this time no good will come, no good will come at all for your agent is resolute in whatever he has decided.' Babeel grew anxious and asked them 'What is this news you speak of? Which agent are you talking about? And what is the new development which I'll need to rectify? Do not keep me waiting and be quick with your delivery. I am not fond of riddles.' 'Babeel we went to Alakapur and sought Yashtan, He is the agent of whom we speak. We cajoled him into quickening his pace and bringing an end to the wretched existence of your foe But he was troubled and brooded over the consequences of such an act. And when we appeared before him he was dumbfounded. When we tried to persuade him, he rebelled And when we trapped him in an illusion, he resisted and broke free from our trap. And Babeel, he has decided not to work for your gain Rather he seeks to do right by his existence in Alakapur! A lifeless, soulless agent whom you ushered discreetly into grounds you cannot penetrate Has now acquired a mind of his own and seeks to rebel from the purpose initially given to him! He says he'll do the right thing... Right? Right? Does such an act exist oh Babeel? For one forged by the son of great Babeel, Should such scruple be bothersome? So we have surmised and we surmise correctly He will indeed become a companion to your foe and aid her now in bringing the downfall of the muarij if such is possible at all!' Enraged, Babeel roused from between the mountains 'If he seeks to do right, then the right thing is to perform the task he was made to do! How has he acquired such understanding of right and wrong. It is not for him to judge for he is a puppet made to act as we tell him. Such effrontery! Such insolence! How do you think this has come to pass, for Bolund however lame of body Is equally sharp of mind and would not falter in his craftsmanship! Lest he too has conspired and behind my back he sent Yashtan to bring the downfall of the Muarij... Nay! Nay! It's not possible No earth dweller possesses the power to bring the end of the kingdom of Babeel! You two... connect me now to that fool who in pride of his powers thinks he can overcome us Connect me now this instant so I may first, with facile speech lure him into doing our bidding And if he continues to rebel I shall set him on the right path!' Har and Mar gladly accepted and via a portal, they connected Babeel to Yashtan And blinded the two to each other's view via a veil of smoke And both only saw each other as hazy silhouettes. Then Yashtan said 'You brothers have returned! Then it is pointless because I have acquired the skill of releasing myself from your illusions. Have you delivered my message to Babeel the damned? If not then go and inform him of my decision!' Babeel interposed 'Aye Yashtan! They have done as you told them And I am well informed of your decision to rebel against your makers!' Yashtan was seized by a sudden fear He spoke directly with Babeel And though it was expected of Babeel to gather forces against Yashtan He had not expected he'd be accosted directly. But he was adamant in what he had decided and he collected himself to respond to Babeel, Although his voice trembled 'Babeel...you come to speak to me? Let me tell you that nothing you say will change my mind. It is better that I be killed at the hands of the Sinful One Than to be burnt repeatedly without a moment's respite in terrible Irkalla.' ‘What are you without me? I enrich your history’s tapestries with my threads of intercession. Am I not needed for your betterment? Am I not the whetstone that sharpens the blades of your character? If to me you come with swerving sword, Will you be heroes if I offer you not my heinous bod? My declension was my affirmation! I refused to bow before you in the past, to provide you a better future. My words of sedition invited your call for obedience. Injury to my merit instantly heightened yours! When Ormuzd comes, who will he vie against if not for Ahriman? Who will Elijah go against if not Moloch? I allowed my calumniation to incite your piety! So am I an enemy? Or a selfless friend in enemy’s guise?’ ‘Do not claim to be my friend, For I have seen your name etched upon seething braziers Baal-beel the Damned, one who deviates from the right, You twist beliefs, malign doctrines, Madden the sane minds, ignite wrath, envy, Cause to bloom the kernel of pride! Call upon the devils, your endless mates, For you are the shepherd who goads his herd of evil into ramparts of fire, A king who casts the shadow of despair upon his subjects, Herald of doom, one who caters to fill the belly of hell, Master of hell’s inmates and an inmate yourself! I will not listen to your ramblings so unleash your hounds of misery on me; Those wicked brothers who aid you from Irkalla, Your son who delivers your vile messages. And the one who claims to be my father for having created me in his forge yet submits his son before you. Unfurl your scroll of wickedness, Let your vicious minions drip and blot like wet ink.’ And when Yashtan showed no sign of acquiescence Babeel resorted to threats which too Yashtan dismissed. Yashtan, aware of having slighted the murj king, returned to his brooding He closed his eyes and envisioned Jami to aid him but he did not appear before him Babeel called upon his entire clan which were quick to respond Save Bolund whom Lughanshesh kept distant from their enraged father. Babeel stood at the centre of the convention and addressed his sons 'That toy created by Bolund for our means now rebels! That which I had feared has indeed come to pass. He has gained a voice and a soul That wretched puppet! This is now all the more troublesome for Daibah alone had caused enough problems Now she has our entire army at her disposal so to speak... What are we to do? Sons mine, combine forces!' But the sons of Babeel were frightened at the thought of waging war against the one Who had neutralized Babeel's ancient weapon And now with a husband such as Yashtan, she would be unbeatable. They feared speaking a word before Babeel but Lughanshesh stepped forward 'Father! There is nothing we can do now! There is an enclosure around her city which is impenetrable That was why we'd sent Yashtan to her. There is no other way for us to enter save try to convince him!' And Babeel said 'Do you not think I tried? I attempted to have him side with me but he hearkened not! He was adamant in his rebellion. No word of mine reached his ear And he was quick to dismiss me!' 'Then let me go to him and try to convince him. Had Har and Mar not interfered, he might have performed the task! He might have taken some time to do so but I believe he would have done it. Because they tortured him enough, some scruple in him would have been alarmed And he must have been prompted to believe that aiding the immortals would cause him further distress! There is no other reason he'd rebel!' Babeel allowed Lughanshesh to go down and persuade Yashtan to abandon the queen And return to the side of the muarij. Lughanshesh left the convention of the immortals and went down to accost Yashtan Via a conduit he had established for his communication with him. As he approached the city he was suprised to find the mist clearing up. It had been reduced to a translucent layer through which he could discern the features of the city within. With the news of this development, Lughanshesh returned to his father. CHAPTER TWO 'This cannot be! This cannot be! The timing is most inappropriate! The immortals surely conspire against us. The timing is most inappropriate! Are you sure about what you saw?' Yashtan asked one of his men who had seen Lughanshesh appear. 'I am certain your highness! It was one of that unholy lot without a doubt! He appeared in a curious form, somewhere between man and monster A form similar to what we saw whence he'd first come to speak to the queen And then he fled. Perhaps he too had become aware of the protective veil of the city lifting.' 'The queen is ill! She cannot perform her duties at the temple. Whatever incantation was required to keep this mist intact, required her strength as well. For now she cannot maintain this mist and we are left defenseless. But I shan't leave it at that! Nay! Never! I will certainly go out of my way for the security and protection of the people and the Kingdom! Let not this news reach the ears of the civilians else they'll be in turmoil. Keep it low and pretend there is no problem! Keep up with business as usual. When the time comes we shall let the people know! The underground shelters which were constructed as soon as I took up charge alongside Daibah, shall come in handy! For those tunnels alone are what will lend protection once the immortals descend for battle. And a battle is imminent!' Yashtan dismissed the messenger and sought solitude! He closed his eyes and brought to mind, the guide Jami. Although he could not see him, he conversed with him. 'Guide of dead, aide of the living, help me! I am in a turmoil for I fear I cannot defend the innocent people of this city! I had an epiphany, and for that I need your help. I need your help in releasing the titans. Aye! The ones who'd caused your ruin as an infant! But do not be slighted, surely you must have that capacity for being affronted But this is for a cause much nobler than you or I! Heed my call and come to me or call me to your threshold So that we may converse face to face. For now I am not even certain whether you hear me So come to me or call me to your threshold! But no aid came to him. Yashtan went to patrol the city streets at night and for a few moments his senses were heightened. He thought perhaps his fancies deceived him but soon he became certain that the murj conspired And he could hear their whispers. Yashtan went to his home and once again performed the ritual; Closed his eyes and called onto Jami, but he did not respond. The third night Yashtan patrolled the city streets and kept check of murj invasion Once again his senses were heightened and he heard their whispers. Yashtan went to his home and once again performed the ritual; Closed his eyes and called onto Jami, but he did not respond. The fourth night Yashtan patrolled the city streets And he saw Lughanshesh outside the thin veil of mist 'Yashtan I know you are there and I know you hear me! Forego this revolt and side once again with the ones who made you!' 'Lughanshesh? Why do you come? I made my decision clear to your father! I will not return to your side. And I do not act because I seek to help Daibah so do not think me a traitor Nay, even in your lot I'd not want to be known by that name, I act simply because I feel it was not right. I could not have been constructed for murder! So I have chosen my path and it does not lead me to your prosperity. So return. Your presence is most perilous.' 'Yashtan, I came to convince you for the sole reason to prevent your destruction But if you are so rancorous toward us then I'll have no choice and return to father to report your insubordination! Aye! I will return now! This is perhaps a call to war!' And Lughanshesh flew away and Yashtan sighed. Indeed, of a war he'd been informed and a war was sure to knock on his door. CHAPTER THREE Yashtan returned once again to perform his ritual; Closed his eyes and called upon Jami! And this once his call was heeded, For he was brought once again there where he'd first met Jami. Before him stood the guide of the dead, the aide of the living. Standing on a ferry, he invited Yashtan to join him and Yashtan said ‘Need I speak again of why I kept calling you? And why did you delay a response?’ ‘And need I tell you again there is time for everything? Nay! I do not! And we need not discuss why you stand here! You shall be given what you asked for, The aid of the titans! But you should be aware that their support does not guarantee a win!’ ‘I know that, but for now every form of support is paramount!’ Then Yashtan too mounted the ferry! Jami in the guise of Akhdar Masih and Yashtan beaming with rage at the muarij boarded the ferry for their destination in Irkalla. The tier where once Babeel had travelled to speak to the ferryman. The tier where once wroth Babeel had tied the titans where to this day they were bound. These kinsmen and mounts of the Vanaras, who too had denounced Babeel now lamented their act, The captors and slayers of Jami, Yet out of mercy, Aleph had doused on them slumber deep, Free of either dreams or nightmares any. In contorted poise and bodies frozen in perpetual genuflection, The titans were shackled by chains forged with unholy magic, endowed with an ability to never break or turn brittle. Upon their forms masses of ice and rime had collected. The slight flaring of the nostrils during expiration issued an icy breath. Their tears had frozen into rivulets of ice upon their cheeks. Slaver had frozen between the cracks of their lips. The haomal wounds had congealed. No monument had Yashtan seen, no apparent size had he known the Muarij assume that could outdo the titans' stature. No tree strong enough for them to uproot. Yet in that dismal abode they existed, Forlorn and forgotten. 'They are otherworldly indeed. Neither like man nor like the muarij. I am aware that in their jaws came your death in infancy, But begrudge me not for I only do this to strengthen my army. Men alone however powerful, cannot tackle that brood of devils. If these creatures, who hold an undying grudge against their prisoners can be my aides, Then I need them. What you do with them after the deed is done is your decision.' Then Jami sighed, and smiled at Yashtan's decisive tone 'Nay! I was a babe when they acted out of orders of my father's rivals. I'd been plagued with nightmares of a previous life in youth after resurrection, true,

Picture 24 Yashtan and Jami free the Titans. But those I have long forgotten, for I have lived so long and busied myself performing God's commands that I worry no more of them. They have indeed a vicious flame still burning bright in their breast that if made flesh could thaw all ice of this region. And once awakened and released, to Babeel's realm is where they'll hasten. Aye! Take them as your companions in your quest to defeat that lot!' And Yashtan with curious eyes stared at Jami. 'You know much yet you claim to have no knowledge of the future. Do you speak the absolute truth when you say you know not the slightest of the outcome of this battle?' 'Do you think I speak an untruth? What good would it do me? Why do you ask so often that question? Do you perceive failure before even attempting? Then you are a despairing soul! The outcome will be what it will be But failure is a certainty if you do not test your might! Are you scared of the immortals' prowess or are you scared of waging war? Which is it? For both can be true and both can be hindering But both can be your weapons too For if you match your mettle against your fears than such fears can be quelled!' 'Nay! I worry not out of lack of courage Rather I worry for those who reside within the city- Women and children. I wish for none to play collateral.' Jami sighed 'When the immortals will come they will come in any number of ways. They will send hell dwellers to whisper into your ears words of despair And perhaps weaken your resolve by causing you to slay the innocent. Or they may themselves, kill those they deem unworthy And to them mankind as a whole is undeserving for man it was that caused Babeel's shame. So what will you do? Either mope for those you cannot protect Or continue fighting.' 'So am I to desert them?' 'Nay! Try and save as many as you can But limit your distractions. One can only do so much.' And when the two made a tacit agreement Jami swung his pine cone and the sleep which had weighed down on the Titans’ eyelids was rubbed off. When they opened their eyes, the face of the babe they'd killed was the first before their view And when they set their eyes on Yashtan, they thought Babeel had begotten two more sons in the earlier one's image. And they were seized by a surge of undying anger and sought to unchain themselves. However much they attempted, it was in vain for the chains could not be undone without intercession of some magic. Yashtan took a step back, slightly frightened. 'Why do they go wild at my sight?' 'Not just you, but the both of us! They see the babe they'd killed in us And though I was a mere babe then Entirely at their mercy They detest me more than Babeel! It is nature of every sentient being to be more abhorrent toward the agent of their misery Than the one whose inflicting torture. The same way Babeel detests mankind.' 'So how am I to take them as my companions if they are so wroth at me?' Then Jami lent his pine staff to Yashtan 'Speak to them and release them. The titans are not as cunning as man or muarij, For they were made by the Vanaras to be enslaved. Subjugating them should not be for you a task so daunting.' Yashtan took the cone and neared one titan And addressed the entire party softly 'I am not who you think I am. I am not the infant Jami who caused your ruin So take me not as your enemy for I come as a friend; To free you and help you exact vengeance against the clan of Babeel! The arrogant one, The cruel one, The damned, Babeel. He is as much an enemy to me as he is to you And both you and I have the same goal, To see him fall. Therefore, if you agree I will release you from this torturous realm. Aid my people and I in this quest Then you can roam the land freely!' So enticing was the offer of vengeance and freedom that they without delay, agreed to participate in the battle from Yashtan's side. Then they requested him earnestly to release them from their binds and Yashtan agreed And he swerved the pine staff of Jami and the titans' arms came out of the chains with great ease As if they put their hands through melted butter. Yashtan swerved the staff yet again and the billows of water constructed giant canoes for the titans. The water solidified to ice and the titans were quick to board the vessels, Trusting of their new leader, Yashtan. Jami's staff was returned to him and the two men exchanged farewells For Yashtan was quite open to the idea that another meeting might not happen. When they left Irkalla upon its vessels The doors to hell closed behind them And the titans set foot on the ground, And warmed by the tender arms of sunlight And the lush sight of green foliage And the murky browns of the mountains And the scattered clouds in the variegated sky They knelt down before Yashtan in gratitude, speechless with joy. The soldiers stood at the highest floor of Enmakawar Yashtan gave a drop of his essence into a honey mead, and each soldier drank a part. As they swallowed the mixture, each felt an exhilaration of the newest kind. A vitality which till then they had not experienced. As the party had finished the mead, the hall was filled with jubilation. They all broke into a nervous laughter. Yashtan felt a consternation. He looked around himself and found his soldiers strangely bustling with energy. One of them rushed forth and leapt into the water below. Yashtan followed and looked down the steep slope. The soldier had resurfaced, but still behaved abnormally. The other soldiers began to play among themselves, a dangerous game of swords. They aimed their weapons at each other and the jarring clanking of the metal ached his ear. ‘What is going on?’ He yelled to them. At his cry, they regained a momentary composure, but then they rushed and jumped down the cliff. ‘Is it not suiting their bodies?’ Yashtan looked at them, but they had calmed down. Drifting ashore, they lay on the sand with the ebbing tides still cooling them off. He saw his captain, staggering in the sands, while earnestly trying to look up to him. ‘Highness!’ Said he. ‘We feel fine! Just a sudden rush of warm blood through our veins. The water cooled us. We're good!’ Yashtan sighed in relief. For a moment he felt he had almost lost his entire regiment. He went down the steps to his men, and knelt before the youngest soldier. He seemed to be fighting for breath. As a quick tide touched his feet, he opened his eyes, and sat up straight. By then all the infantrymen seemed at ease. Civilians had been confined to underground shelters and so not a single one lurked outside BOOK EIGHT (Theomachy) Yashtan with mortal might and will, shielded the whispers of Irkalla brothers. And with sharp words, called upon the immortals. 'Come you unholy lot! With your filth. With your vermin. Wherever you may be. From within the oceans. From under the rock. From behind the trees. From inside the caves.' His call was not unheeded, for as his army had collected at the mountain's foot, So had their army collected outside Alakapur. Both forces awaited every mote of mist to clear. And when every quivering mote was gone, The muarij saw, bearing a standard depicting a wolf, each member of Yashtan's army stood Beaming with a strange, inhuman energy. And they all discerned that Yashtan had contrived to lend his essence to each of them. And thus they'd all tasted a slight taste of the muarij's powers. And one of the murj stepped forward and addressed Yashtan. 'Ah! Lament we each moment, the day we bestowed our powers upon you. Lament we the day you came to life. And lament we the day you betrayed us. But such is man, a traitor from start to end.' Yashtan burst into laughter and between hysterics he scoffed at them. 'Calls me a traitor he who himself is the child of Universal Evil! But eh, where is that father of yours? Should I be affronted that he deems me unworthy of a fight? Or should I be proud that seeing me he turned back on his heels? For he did come to entice me to rejoin his group earlier. Regardless, I shan't be happy till I've seen him and till he's seen me. But I shouldn't lament, for when I'll strike the last blow upon him, Each of us shall behold the visage of the other!' 'Yashtan, you speak with the pride of the one imbued with the essence of Universal Evil! And aye, indeed father did not come for he deems you unworthy of a clash And therefore you should be foaming at the mouth enraged! And how will you strike the last blow upon Babeel? For we will obliterate every speck on this blasphemous town And reclaim the city and rename it to what it was and should always be... Babel!' 'Then try why don't you? Your enemy has opened his doors to you! Come and obliterate us!' The titans first appeared before the immortal clan They emerged from behind the mountains, from under the ground Their long imprisonment in contorted poise had lent their bodies agility. Yashtan made sure that none of his subjects ever laid eyes on the titans' fearsome form but he could not keep every eye closed And the first collateral which Yashtan faced, he earned via his own mistake by making the titans visible to his people An old lady who could not bear their sight and died of fright. The others raced to their underground shelters for the remainder of the fight. The muarij were dumbfounded when they saw their ancient enemy And the titans were enraged at the sight of the immortals. Their minds relived their binding in Irkalla. Yashtan kept his mortal troops at a distance and had in private told them to allow the titans to engage the immortals as long as they could. He hoped the titans alone would weaken the muarij yet he was aware of difference between the cunning and the prowess of the two clashing powers. As the titans walked, they caused the earth to crack beneath their feet. They created fissures, tore the ground open and uprooted the trees. They charged at the immortals and the immortals charged too. Soon however the immortals began to show their superiority over the titans whom they had previously defeated and felled them one by one. They were shot by thunder bolts, By darting sun beams, By violent hurls of mountain crags, By frozen tidal waves and water sirens, By the earth taking on various forms And as Yashtan watched all that the muarij were able to do, he shrank for a moment And sought to flee, but regained his composure and stood with formidable valor. As each titan faced death, it withered away, and gradually, each titan was killed. Then the immortals faced Yashtan and called out to him ‘Your minions have been taken care of, And this is how we will take care of you and your human kin!’ When the last words were uttered, the two forces charged and neither held back, For every human strength had increased ten fold, Yet the muarij had outnumbered them. For each mortal there were ten immortal assailants. Upon the summit, watching the muarij overpower his men, And well aware of his own limitations, Yashtan raised his standard bearing the wolf, And while the Irkalla brothers continued to hover above him Endeavoring to madden him and weaken his resolve with unceasing whispers, Yashtan screamed and called forth the remaining titans which were in hiding, 'I need not expend myself before I've exhausted all my assets.' He screamed once again, calling upon the titans And the muarij disengaged themselves from their fight and focused on what was to come. 'Come and fulfill your promise! Aid the one who released you from your terrible confines! Come out and overwhelm my enemy!' The earth shook and quaked and the immortals thought Yashtan had colluded With his sorceress wife in bringing forth Daab from within the deep waters. The muarij dispersed, the battle ground teemed with the blood of Alakapur's warriors. And the muarij held a discussion and it was a long discussion, While the mountains trembled, while the trees were uprooted, while the tides rose high and crashed with full force, For the titans emerged from wherever they'd hidden. 'Who does he call upon? Who does he call upon? Will we need to bind the Daab as our father and brothers did in an ancient epoch? Will it be possible for us? For neither father, nor Lughanshesh nor Bolund, The ones with courage enough to tackle such an enemy, Our present in our midst today! What should we do? What should we do? We are helpless!' And the Muarij thought they fought a losing war before they even set eyes upon the titans, And when they had seen them, serrying together under the hill where stood their summoner, The muarij realized they could overcome them. For the muarij could assume lofty statures. Then they all uttered some chants to raise themselves to the titans' heights and even taller. And once again a battle was fought reminiscent of the ancient battle between the Asaras and the Vanaras. Bolund, seated in his forge and observing all, watched closely the clash. He sent forth no help for his brethren for he was utterly amused. He watched Yashtan and had felt proud at the smartness of his creation. Yashtan was not a fool! Of course he wasn't. He had been endowed with the immortals' cunning. He emprised to exhaust first the means at his disposal And saving his energy for the one he knew was truly formidable; Babeel! Although Babeel was not present, and had shown a disregard for the mortal Yashtan The weakness of whom he had descanted upon at great length before the Muarij! But it was all a pretense! Babeel, who had wasted his opportunity to set eyes upon Yashtan when he stood lifeless in the forge, Was now being pricked every moment with curiosity! He wanted to see Yashtan's face and he would certainly enter the battlefield to encounter him. 'You swell my breast with pride Yashtan! I have finally done with you what I couldn't have before you! You have come truly alive!' Babeel said. The outcome of the fight was what Yashtan had expected. The muarij felled the titans though not with ease! The titans, who themselves had been the creation of the Vanaras, could not match the unending cunning of their foes. The muarij piled attacks upon attacks and despite their tremendous strength, the titans could not keep up. The fight lasted for ten days and Yashtan did not leave his place upon the summit, And neither did the Irkalla brothers, Har and Mar retire from their menacing. At the end of the tenth night, when it was time for the sun to rise, The moon lingered in the sky, well hidden behind a sheet of dark clouds. The sun did not rise that day, for the skies had been clouded by an alien darkness. The people of the city, who had taken refuge in underground shelters Seldom went out to check their army's progress, and during such checking They had seen the dark skies. No sign of daybreak! It was an omen! An omen indeed and the people set up a shrine of whatever items they could find And knelt down to pray to their deities! They prayed to however many gods they had and none listened, for that night continued and the sky's blackness increased. There was then a thunder and a single flash of lightning And in that single spark Yashtan had seen a huge, horrid form And he knew then that he had witnessed the true face of Babeel the damned. The king of the muarij observed the war! Quickly the pall of darkness withered for a fiery ball seemed to descend swiftly Burning every cloud in its proximity! It was Chokmah, the murj of Illumination, for that was the title given him by Babeel. He rode a blazing chariot and goaded his mad horses by fiery whips. Each time he struck the whip upon them, their pace grew two fold and They raced toward Yashtan, who knew it was the time for him to act And use every faculty given him, in tackling single handedly the entire murj army! 'Foolish thing! For it would be a disgrace to humans if I call you that! We made you and we will bring your doom! You will and and we will fight and you shall not see the end of this day!' 'I won't see the end of this day, for you will cheat to lengthen it till you have overcome me! You take pride in being defeated by a one you made with your own hands, That shows how utterly useless you are!' During the ceremony in which each immortal endowed Yashtan with their essence There was the one who gave him the ability to assume a watery form! And Yashtan employed that facility when Chokmah hurled his whip upon him. Acquiring a watery shield Yashtan caught the whip and pulled the chariot close Then unleashed a tide upon the blazing horses and weakened them. When the muarij saw Chokmah weaken, The water nymphs who aided Babeel in keeping tame the Daab, Created a space for Chokmah to fall and intercepted him And acquired his power over fire and commingled it with a typhoon And raised it toward Alakapur dwellings. Yashtan, who had been weakened by using too much energy fought to retain his strength And with that watery form hastened to stop the typhoon from causing ruin to the city. He jumped into the water and swam great distance. It was a task which took him two full days To catch each of the three sirens who conjured the typhoon. Chokmah, who had also given his essence during the ritual, was unnerved when he saw Yashtan enclose himself within a flame. Of course it hurt him terribly but he was maddened and enraged and brought the three sirens close to himself and burned them. He found Chokmah attempting to hide from him and captured him while he was weak and ripped off his head. The other muarij who watched him kill in a frenzy scattered themselves, too scared to face him. And, endowed with the speed of Lughanshesh he ran on swift feet to locate every immortal hiding in the city, For none of them had fled out of foolish pride and fear of facing Babeel as cowards. Yashtan found them in every corner and whoever he could catch, he ensured their death. Bolund watching the entire battle with exhilaration, laughed and took pride in his achievement. He lauded himself, showered endless praise upon his talent and watched Yashtan in his nearly invincible state. Bolund had created for his own kin, an unbeatable enemy. Babeel who had taken residence yet again between the mountains after Chokmah's assault Was approached by a distressed Lughanshesh! 'Father, after Chokmah's attack, Yashtan has whoever of us he can catch. He is in a mad frenzy. His eyes are bloodshot, he employs the power of our kin to maximum And added to his power is his tremendous determination to end our kind and protect his city. Father, he's proved an enemy more powerful than the queen herself! Oh! What have we done? What have we done? We have, with our own hands fashioned our doom and given it as present to another enemy! For now Daibah is uninvolved, but if she were to join him, within days they would destroy all!' And Babeel roused and delivered a slap across his son's face! Either because his rambling maimed his pride or because he reminded him of their incompetency with the queen or because he brought to light once again the fact that it was they who made him. 'If I hear another word from your mouth about Yashtan, I will be sure to throw you before his feet so he may finish you first! Who was it that came up with this idea? Was it me? No! Who was it that cajoled me into accepting this idea? Was it me? No! Then do not whine and mope before me lest you wish I deliver a slap on the other cheek! If you wish to ramble, then seek out your lame brother and bang your head upon his chair! Do not disturb me with your prating! Regardless, I have learnt that endless crying over anything has brought naught! I will have to deliver a blow myself since it has become necessary now and the entire lot of mine has proved a band of shameful insects before a one clay puppet! So this puppet has acquired a voice of its own, then we shall remind it its place.' Yashtan watched the darkness recover upon the sky, it was not yet night. Babeel worked to lend aid to his surviving children. But Babeel had perhaps forgotten that he too was not spared during the ceremony And when Yashtan saw the lightning strike a house in the city He climbed the hill, for that brought him closest to the sky And the king of Alakapur accosted the king of the immortals. 'So Babeel you come to smite me from a place where you cannot even look upon me! Have you the courage to descend the city and face me?' Babeel enraged with his insolence, brought down his thunder upon him, but Yashtan dodged his attacks. When another bolt had hit his feet, Yashtan had absorbed it within himself. He shivered with the surge of current through his spine and fell to the ground But Babeel proceeded to shower an endless series of bolts upon him. It lasted long and Yashtan was too fatigued to continue fighting. He realized the wounds on his body had stopped healing And he was too spent to even stand. When Babeel saw him too open and vulnerable, he hurled another bolt over him But as it reached for Yashtan, a sheet of light broke the bolt and scattered the pieces about. And suddenly the view of the city was shielded from Babeel. He looked around for Lughanshesh but he'd left. CHAPTER TWO The Malaika assembly shielded themselves within their wings And the light beam above receded to the cleft in the clouds. Together they chanted and their chants, by everyone, were heard ‘In the name of Aleph we come!’ ‘That is truly the heaven-sent! It is truly the Hour! Now the Universe will be wrapped up! Now Samael's trumpet bearing wing will engulf the sky's expanse in darkness And the blaring tune will be resounded, that formidable tune of the End Father, you have failed in your quest. The End is here! The End is here! Down into Irkalla's blazing pits we'll go. The entire platoon sent to shackle the lot of us Man and the immortals!’ Bolund said. But when Bolund watched Yashtan kneeling in desperation, Unaware of the brilliant army before him, One magnificent angel descended to the tract before him. What wonder, what splendor that angel showed. Otherworldly beauty and delightful countenance. Golden winged, sharper hued than the rest but not lurid. Yet blinding greatly the muarij eyes. Bolund put before him the dark veil to keep check of the angel’s actions. But nothing roused the Murj's envy toward the angel more than the insignia carved most artfully upon his breastplate Adorned with veins into which liquid light flowed in rushing rills. And all from the muarij clan, and the immortal entities of Irkalla The whisperers of evil, and Ishnan seated upon her cool ebb thousands of miles away Beheld the dialogue between man and angel. And though none could stare at that angel's frame Without diverting their gaze each step he took, yet Yashtan's eyes alone did not ache at the angel's sight. Yashtan gaped and momentarily roused, But with trembling knees returned to his previous posture. ‘I know who you are! Accept my apologies but I cannot carry on. I am spent with terrible fatigue! The throes of torpor bite me in every limb. I have tried, as best as I could, to render their clan impotent before all But their haoma keeps them well, while mine blood runs out of energy. Have you come to take me? Then take me! I do wish to live no more in this tumultuous town!’ ‘You have recognized me well! By my brilliant armor and my splendorous sword unsheathed. Indeed we know you are spent with fatigue and your blood runs out of energy, And so we come for your aid. Do not give up and proceed with your resistance, it's not yet time for your earthly departure!’ And the great angel, whom the heavenly assembly called Mikhail, Unsheathed his sword whose glint caused the sun to quiver with shame And seek cover behind the clouds And upon Yashtan's shoulders he pressed the sword's tip Empowering the mortal with renewed energy. And from the points of Yashtan's armor touched by the sword's tip Two lavish wings sprouted forth And Yashtan gaped and said ‘Indeed these wings must be imbued with some miracle.’ And the Malaika leader said ‘Aye that is true These wings once adorned the shoulders of your nemesis Babeel And upon his fall from grace they were wrenched from him And the one to wrench them was I, Lowered Babeel's ranks from above the Malaika to lower than the lowest beings And because you have lamented your lack of flight When their legions overpowered you with that art You have been given these wings to aid you!’ Then a platoon of the Malaika stepped forward; Each platoon held out a shrouded tray And each tray had upon it, for Yashtan, a God sent boon The first lot of angels put before him the gift, And he removed the glowing shroud to receive a bronze quiver loaded with a single arrow And the two resting upon a well crafted bow And in consternation he inquired ‘Indeed this arrow must be imbued with some miracle!’ And the Malaika leader replied ‘Aye that is true This arrow will never expend Use it once and before it penetrates it's target Upon your stretched bow string it will reappear The entire weapon is infused with heavenly light, Unique to it alone with power to rend wounds which will never heal So target none save those you truly seek to target And use it never save when you desire to end evil!’ Then another platoon repaired to the skies And in an instant returned, hovered above Yashtan And placed gently upon him a two horned helm! Each horn carved like a shapely wing And neither higher nor smaller than the other And the horn glint caused the sun to further quiver with shame And to eclipse itself behind the darkened moon And when the entire army of Babeel witnessed the sun's humility Each sought to return to cease fighting and return to their homes And when the helm sat perfectly upon the mortal's head The endless whispers of the Irkalla brothers were silenced And in consternation Yashtan inquired ‘Indeed this helm must be imbued with some miracle!’ And the Malaika leader replied ‘Aye that is true This helm will light your path when darkness around you prevails And it's special make will serve to deafen evil whispers So wear this each time you engage in battle with the evil ones For they will send the whisperers to deviate you each moment.’ A third legion of the Malaika then came forward, a shrouded tray in their hands yet again The shroud Yashtan removed and saw upon it a brilliant mace It's bulbous top nicely rounded and tapering end sharp like a needle And Yashtan said again ‘Indeed this mace must be imbued with some miracle!’ And the Malaika leader said ‘Aye that is true For that is the mace once wielded by your nemesis Babeel And bathed for seven nights in Irkalla's dark fires Yet the wielder it does not harm and it's victims it does not spare So when your enemies are too close for your arrows, use your mace to smite them To cudgel your enemies or stab them as you like For you are a warrior gifted with the art of fight!’ Yashtan, overwhelmed with his gifts Divine Wiped away a tear of joy and unto the angel leader he spake ‘I had despaired in a single moment of weakness Forgotten that my aides are not just these mortal soldiers But also the infinite powers in Heaven I shall use these gifts and I shall use them well’ The people, due to the looming darkness And the tumult caused by the warring powers Fell in prostration in their temples- either revering Babeel in his various forms; the lion, the bull, the semi serpentine ram Or his son Jami with his companion, Ishnan There were those who took lughanshesh for their god And many who took Daibah as the one who encompassed them all. When the Malaika had endowed upon Yashtan the heavenly gifts The head of the legions came forward once again And raised his arms heavenward And a great neighing was heard, a formidable, monstrous neighing And all gazed at the skies whose darkness once again receded As behind the black clouds a white sheet was stirred Then through eclipsed horizon a flawless white wing appeared Then another and then an equine torso shone through The strong limbs and lavish tail, each strand woven in gold And when the handsome face appeared, all the muarij save Babeel (For he was elsewhere and did not see the steed's descent) Were shaken with a fear they had never felt before Bolund's heart was seized with envy, for the angels presented the one he made With a gift only endowed upon the greatest of heroes The brilliant mount of the blessed ones, Uchaishravas, the most elegant produce of the Ancient Churning One who's single strand Bolund had strived to steal from Babeel's hold. And Mikhail roused from the ground to greet the steed, whose stature had decreased And presented to Yashtan who was speechless But when he attained his faculties he said ‘For once I need not ask for I can see, this steed is a great miracle! And the Malaika head said ‘Aye that is true But you know not it's history When Babeel was Aleph's slave and when under his supervision The cosmic ocean of milk was churned, this steed came up to the surface And every creature coveted it but to Heaven it was summoned Where it has dwelled since in serenity, and has been called now to lend you aid When your wings you can no longer use, and when you feel fatigue prevents your flight This steed you can mount and use in your fight And when Babeel once again sets his eyes on it He will yearn for it and seek to snatch it's reins from your grasp But oh soldier, do not let it go! Do not let it go! Take it now, and resume your God-given task!’ But Yashtan realized the weight of added responsibility To fight and protect the Heavenly steed of magnificent countenance He shook his head ‘Nay! Tis one gift I cannot accept! The immortal king covets it for himself, and I might lose the reins from my hand For when they attack, they attack like cowards Their entire platoon against one, and they attack From all sides and I oft lose my footing So burden me not with added weight for I know this once I'll falter Feel no burden with it for it has been released for you this once You can summon it when you like or return it when you like So keep it for now, and it might serve you well For if it has been given to you it has been given with great wisdom!’ And Yashtan nodded, and kept the horse and upon tacit agreement The army of the angels ascended heavenward in the same passage of light from which they'd first arrived Bolund watched with great amazement, for the mortal he'd created achieved supreme enlightenment. Lughanshesh who had beheld Yashtan's heavenly council Felt tremulous at the several gifts Yashtan had After many a days they'd rendered him weak but the heavens intervened and equipped him With formidable gifts, that surpassed the strength of the muarij combined And Lughanshesh sought his father, to leave his kingly position And enter the war to lend his children aid The sun shrank further with shame and any aught of its light kept fading And blanketing the skies was the ever growing darkness None could see Yashtan. And with a great thunderclap, dark brow'd and furious Babeel appeared before Lughanshesh With a single whistle he convened the entire lot of his children When he saw their tremulous frames he admonished them ‘You wish that I too should hide behind the mountains or under the sea or above the clouds for the shame your impotence will bring me Are you that unaware of the superiority of both your make and birth? Should I remind you? Should I smite you with my fist? Will you then remember what you are? If immortals will cower at the sight of a man, then what are we worth? Why do you, who each possess the strength to overwhelm ten mortals Shiver with the looming darkness? Have you never before seen the night?’ Then Lughanshesh interjected ‘father we worry For this wounded pride of the sun might foreshadow the eclipse of our immortal splendor! For the heavens intervene in our war and they intervene to empower the enemy They came, legions upon legions to boost that mortal's morals And bless him with boons that we could not even look at!’ Then curious Babeel questioned the nature of the heavenly boons but Lughanshesh was speechless. When a glint blinded Babeel, he looked up at the hill where stood the source of light The silhouette of someone of a formidable stature Strong lineaments which shone when a momentary light from the sun was cast upon the person, As if the sun peeped from behind the moon to behold the one on the hill ‘Yashtan! Why do you stand there like a coward? Come and face me. Look me in the eye and challenge me! If you quiver upon contemplating my greatness, then let that not hold you back For I will diminish my stature to match yours Then we'll have a fair fight; a weakling against a weakling. Surely clay cannot match fire! I can burn you in variant forms While you will singe and stay in that placid state! So leave the hill lest you wish I use my powers to fly to where you stand But then you'll be slighted and cry foul!’ And indeed Yashtan was slighted, for though Babeel could view only a dark silhouette Yet he wagged his tongue most arrogantly Then Yashtan addressed the murj ‘Oh you prideful one, I fear you as a mortal is bound to fear one who can take his life Yet that fear does not hold me back For despite my human lackings I still dare to match your strength And nay do not reduce yourself, for a fight is fair only when the forces use their true nature For how can there be a tempest if the winds were to recede or the waves were to turn docile Or how can there be a conflagration if the fire failed to burn! And that is war and that is how each one of us will fight. I as a mortal, you as an immortal. Clay against fire true, for go on burning in your various forms, indeed to deviate and be deviant is your nature, While I will singe but hold fast onto this endeavour!’ ‘Great words Yashtan! Great words indeed! You talk of tempest; forget not that tempestuous winds and tides oft destroy human dwellings! You talk of conflagration; forget not that once fire touches human skin, the agony is bitter! But oh, neither you will change your mind, nor I will change mine, Then descend the hills and match my prowess!’ ‘Of course!’ Yashtan quit the hill top and Babeel’s sight to descend the hills And ventured downhill to appear before Babeel in full view. The murj king was curious when he heard the deep neighing then Yashtan came out At first dark in the blackness of the cave from which he emerged. At first only a glint of his armor and the mane of his mount and aroused tenfold the curiosity of Babeel And then both the master and the heavenly mount stepped into the glittering moon beam, whose shimmer grew when the brilliant duo entered it. Babeel was shocked, his knees shivered, his entire frame seized with tremors. Before him stood Yashtan, like a mature image of the long lost Jami, Or perhaps it was Jami, as the Sages had once told him That his slayer would indeed be his dearest son mounting a creature of terrible countenance. And when the prophecy before him he saw made flesh, he was seized with fear. His muscles were rigid, his skin pallid. The time had already come for his end? Then he looked at the glorious steed, Uchaishravas. The one who had come out of the ocean during the Ancient Churning, One over whom the two clans had wrangled. One who the Great Aleph had instantly summoned to Heaven. Then Yashtan without delay, withdrew one arrow from his quiver and swiftly aimed it at Babeel's breast. Frozen, still in awe and fear, Babeel neither noticed nor moved And Lughanshesh quickly grabbed his father and transported himself and Babeel to their own realm Far away from powerful Yashtan. Many of the muarij still succumbed to the wounds of his terrible weapon and many were instantly killed. Then Lughanshesh finally vent out his frustration and directed all anger at his father ‘Will there ever be a time when you will let go of your yearning? Now we are a mockery before that mortal kind. A mockery first before the wife Now a mockery before the husband! I failed first and now you! You are quick to admonish our incompetence while you are so weak yourself to any aught of Jami’s semblance. Indeed I could erect a stone in his image and you’d stand frozen. Indeed what a shameful weakness you have and now the heavens play with it! Or was it that you were once again lost in the moment of your disgrace? When all those appendages from you were wrested! And now you are slighted for those appendages have been shifted to one you most detest! And how Aleph plays with His creation For one you most detest is like the one you most love! Father, this is foolish! Absolutely foolish! You have better sons! Will you ever adore us with a similar adoration?’ Babeel stared at Lughanshesh though not with anger For Lughanshesh spoke the truth ‘You will not understand! I told you once did I not? It is a curse upon me! How would you not know that? For is it possible for us to mingle with their kind and have children entirely of their make? I did not expect it yet I had the one human son! From the moment he was conceived to the day he died he was a bane! Aye! Aleph plays with his creation and he played with me! Shamefully sterile I was yet after a millennia I had the one weakling infant. And Lughanshesh my son, Jami is not dead! He lives! He lives! Avoids my company and trains in private. Acquires skills to one day bring my end!’ And then Babeel narrated the tale of his meeting with the sages, Told Lughanshesh the entire details of his converstion with the Conveyor of souls. ‘Or is it perhaps the sages lied? Are they capable of lying?’ Or did they play with me as well? Spoke riddles? They said that Jami will come one day mounting a terrible mount, resolute in his quest to slay his father. But could it be that the soothsayers spoke not of Jami but of one like Jami? Could they have spoken of Yashtan with the Steed as his mount? Ah! Disgraced! I am utterly disgraced! Nay! Tis not the Hour! For where is the fiery sword wielder? One whose stature is akin to the mountains, it is not yet time then! And I will not let this foolishness weaken me further!’ ‘Then stop crying father! You become childlike upon the mention of Jami’s name! You have changed in the mist disgraceful way! All day you linger here and fill this river with your tears. There will come a time when we will tire of your tasks. Now I shall leave and return only when you call on me And call on me only when you have refused to weep!’ Lughanshesh left without a reply and rushed to Bolund’s lair And without a greeting slammed his fist upon his desk ‘What heinous crime have you conspired Bolund ‘How does Yashtan behave so human-like? Did you not make him soulless then how does he conspire with that queen and speak with a voice as if infused with a soul? Why would you go so far? You have reached the heights of wickedness!’ ‘You can accuse me all you like and I will continue defending myself I created a hollow doll Made him in clay like a mortal true Cast him upon the potter's wheel true Indeed sought to give him life true But I had failed to do the latter despite my efforts.’ ‘By the Lord What has happened? He is unbeatable! He will not acquiesce to our wishes. So generously were his eyes imbued with passion And rightly gifted with Divine powers! Father was speechless when before him Yashtan came Bone white and frozen head to toe For Yashtan appeared as the Irkalla's guiding star Sparkly his own skin and added splendor of the weapon he wielded And lo you know what more? His shoulder blades adorned angelic wings and head crowned by a two horned diadem Reminiscent of father's erstwhile glory! Methinks this time the heaven colludes with men on earth To render the immortal's ignominious defeat Utterly squash our undying troops with mystical powers!’ ‘What weapon is this you speak of?’ ‘Ah! Remarkable, remarkable indeed A golden bow of great strength and a quiver supplied with inexhaustible arrows Their tips, upon being shot, assimilate a light that blinds us Renders us impotent while it makes its way for our breast It is a light which father says is no mere light of the sun But one unique to the Malaika!’ ‘And why was father speechless when he set eyes on Yashtan?’ ‘Would you not know it? For you made him in Jami's image Like a mirror set before that late brother of ours Identical in looks and the otherworldly splendor And the added weight of excess beauty For you chiseled Yashtan to perfection And when before father he came Fluttering those blessed wings darting arrows with that brilliant weapon Father was overwhelmed with a paternal sentiment! Now he sheds profuse tears both at his incompetency as a warrior and a father Despite the prophecy of the sages and the soothsaying of the oracles He continues to dote devoutly on that wretched Jami! And thus it is partly your fault that we face such humiliation Therefore to you I come as not a suppliant rather to direct you to undo this terrible mistake named Yashtan! Set his mind right or turn him once again into mass of mud Entirely pliant to your will and might For if you are unable to do so Father, who will soon cease his shameful weeping will repair to your abode and end you!’ ‘Why do you attach all blame for your incompetence on me? If the entire force of the immortals cannot subdue one powerful mortal Then how do you plan to go against Aleph! I feel like bursting into laughter at the thought. Regardless, it is my doing and in some ways I must say that I am proud, For he has acquired the complete human enlightenment. So leave and let me think a scheme of putting Yashtan to rest!’ ‘Now you will think a scheme? You said you've already have one planned before you sent him off to Alakapur?’ ‘Nay! That was a lie I told father. We had no other choice did we?’ ‘Oh Bolund you wretched craftsman Your craftiness has seeped through and through I am wont to believe that such a scheme, albeit far fetched, is one you cooked up to end the muarij!’ ‘Now you go too far! But this must be corrected and that I shall certainly do! So worry me not and allow me time to think this through!’ CHAPTER THREE Upon the muarij cowardly flight, Yashtan, overwhelmed with his godsend gifts returned to where his people grouped A massive underground shelter with sufficient supplies to last them Frightened and shaking, they were elated to see their king return unscathed With his glory redoubled, though he flaunted not his assets. Though once lukewarm, when Daibah had taken him for a husband, they now welcomed him Transformed quick to earnest devotion And the children grouped about him with tambourines And women came before him with baskets filled with jasmine flowers. They bustled and sprinkled upon him rosewater. Yashtan, unamused took his place upon the podium With wrinkled brow and stern gaze he addressed them 'I know not how many of you beheld the arrival of the celestials. Those of the puissant brothers fighting on my side, of them the martyrs lay down their lives for their people And those who live, mighty warriors, stand here in your midst, And they watched the heavenly legions descend to give me aid Not to empower me so I may gloat of my superiority But so I may be strengthened enough to keep you safe. Those winged beings of light called the Malaika, serve a God higher than the ones you've kept in your shrine, Better than your king and queen, And not demanding or wasteful of your effigies and butters and milk and children's lives. Nay! Nothing He asks of your riches save your devotion. He it was who sent me as His emissary in your queendom To deliver His message to you so you may heed His word. Remove the clay figures of your gods, of Jami or Baal or Ishnan or Hinda or ShomaKali or Ma, Or Daibah or Da'ab or Malik or Yashtan Whatever it is adorning your shrines and wreathed with incense fumes. Remove them all from your homes for they serve to desecrate your dwelling not bless it, For these are all goodly epithets you've attached unwittingly With the loathly muarij. When you pray to those inanimate dolls, your prayers are unanswered. When you invoke upon these deities, your invocations reach no ears. You waste your energy and time placating the wrath of those who shall forever toward you be wrathful And you do a favor to none with wasteful rituals of pouring over fire, oils and honey and milk.' When Yashtan's address was done, A furore erupted and none held back their curses. The staunch believers of their old gods foamed at the mouth, stepped forward to wrangle with Yashtan and throw darts and knives upon him. Of course none dared hurl a dangerous item over him, for fighting with the muarij he had proved his might And though he curbed his anger best, none knew when he'd lose his temper to fight his subjects. 'What do you say Yashtan? You accuse us of blasphemy when it is you who blasphemes! You attach our holy gods to our foes in an attempt to elate a god you created on your own! Aye! We saw the descent of those fantastic beings The light of whom we could not bear and had to seek refuge within this shelter. We know of the help they provided you, but we also know that they were the incarnations of our gods. And though you claim not to gloat, yet with proving your god a better god You have shown yourself an imperious king!' 'Aye! I'd known I'd face such critique. I came fully prepared and resolute not to turn weak to your words. It is my task to serve as your protector and guide and I shall do it whether you accept me or not. But forget not that the wrath of God once denied is never far. I, being mortal, won't stay forever to protect your city And when I am gone you will suffer beneath a naked sky For the tender clouds won't transform into an iron cuirass to endure the muarij attacks! If it is your queen in whom you have undying trust then forget not That she is as prone to pride as the immortals she detests, It will bring her down, and when it does, she will take you with her.' 'You speak ill of your own wife? Have you no shame?' 'I speak the truth! When she came to these shores she allowed herself to be deified by you. Since you were wont to take anything to bend yourself before.' But his words were unheeded and before a civil rebellion could foment Yashtan turned to leave, despondent in their response 'I was told it would be so, yet I tried to keep you straight. Nay you wouldn't listen for you are inveterate fools. Then go on, go about kneeling in your shrines, burning your effigies and offering child tributes, You deserve no more than this!' And as he left a few were remorseful of their conduct, Most however were not. Lughanshesh argued with Bolund. 'Such is the enemy we face, a foe manufactured by our own hands. What are we then? Architects of our own doom? Who should we blame? Ourselves for lusting for power of more and more territories? Or should we blame you, who proposed the idea of a conniving emissary? Conniving? If anything he seems to be a heaven sent agent. The angels' legions come to lend him aid of the highest degree! None can have Uchaishravas save those to whom Aleph extends magnanimity! So who do we blame? Fate?' 'Nay, blame nobody! It was a device made with intention pure But none can know the aftermath despite precise calculation. I had not known he was capable of such sedition, for I had estimated That without a soul he could not decide on his own. I believe during his coursing he came across some heavenly sprite who endowed him with a heart So when upon Daibah he set his eyes, he was swayed by her unearthly beauty And fooled by the appealing forms she takes to conceal her true grotesqueness. She's had him swooning long, and she uses him to accomplish her task! But forget not what I once told you, that I alone hold the key to his life And I know well how to bring his end. Despite his exceptional powers, he is as weak as a mortal. He will age and wither away!' 'So are we to wait till he expires with age? Which might be twice of any average man's. Fool me not Bolund for I have long ignored your tactics!' 'Then go on and continue engaging him in this pointless battle. While he becomes stronger, you can keep sending our brothers to strike him, While he keeps downing them all!' 'So what do you propose we do? Sit and wait while he shrouds the remaining earth beneath that mist?' 'Nay, have patience and trust me! This smith brother of yours has a scheme and an efficient one! One that shall weaken their entire force at once.' And then before Lughanshesh, Bolund began work. Within a flask he added a parasite and cultured it for hours, Added ice and allowed them to mix. Lughanshesh watched the process and said 'What are you doing Bolund? Is it another one of your silly schemes? Are you making another man like doll to contend with Yashtan? Then nay proceed no further, for we would not want two of a kind at our throat!' 'Oh brother, that mistake I shan't ever repeat, Rather this is something meant to reverse that mistake!' Then he handed the flask to Lughanshesh 'empty it's contents in the southern river of Alakapur. Be sure to empty every drop. Leave nothing behind.' Lughanshesh was quick to follow instructions and flew over to Alakapur And emptied the flask's contents into the river, 'Where are the cherubim choristers descending from the skies With harps and lyres to sing in their sweet voices, Sonnets to mock the failures of the Muarij! Here I am decanting some poisonous liquid into the river of men While my empathetic heart foresees the misery in equal measure Of both innocent and the guilty. The busy Weavers divine, perhaps the busiest creation of us all I am unworthy to engage you in conversation, Yet foolishly I ask of you, how long will the muarij fight like cowards? I wish to no longer seek the evil shade of my father and wish to roam unafraid The vast expanse of great earth, spreading my equally vast knowledge. I am capable of better and of that I am well aware! Then when am I to retire from this mischievous clan and find my own place? Alas! The flask has been emptied and it is irreversible! I descant aimlessly knowing well I shall hear no response, But I wish to have you know, with the end of this war, and with its results in our favor I shall leave my wicked brethren for good, seek God's mercy and do that which I've long wished; Wander in serenity. Then however many times I am summoned by father or any other To this life I shan't ever return. Thus to you I say this Vouch for me then when I prostrate in the righteous path For this once I will sin terribly, Perhaps out of familial love or perhaps slighted ego, Just this once! Just this once!' Then Lughanshesh departed and watched the green hue of his concoction Mix completely in the river water and rush into the channel of the city. CHAPTER FIVE The messenger rushed to the kings room and addressed him. Yashtan, seeing the distressed young man asked 'What has you so troubled? Sit, rest! Then deliver your message with ease!' 'Nay sire! Nay! There is no time to rest for my news is distressing indeed! A disease has overtaken our people's countenance! It's quick to catch infants first, then the women and the old But strong men aren't spared either. A terrible plague! Babes turn purple then black And succumb to their infirmity in haste; but not before it Has devoured their insides most cruelly!' Baffled Yashtan said 'how long has this been going on? None reported to me of such a case, when I should have been informed from the outset!' 'We know of the first babe who died of it five nights ago, But we thought it an oddity and wished not to increase your troubles! But now it's spreading and spreading like fire, And like fire it's fevers burn, hotter and hotter Until like cinders a body that plague has blackened! Unaware are we of its nature; whether air borne or water borne For even the slightest touch can inflict the highest degree. Sire! Sire mine and ours! Tis a curse and a terrible one indeed! Those artful muarij have cursed us for they are incapable of using any other tact For you, our sire, has proved for us an infallible ally! Rid us of this ailment sire, for you must possess the traits of healing! Efface these self-absorbed immortals off the history. Utterly erase their mark! They make our opposition tedious and fatal!' Then Yashtan recalled the denial of his people And their invocation of their gods and goddesses; Alterations of the muarij and their epithets. 'I possess no healing prowess so do not make those claims! I am but a man endowed with resilience to stand against their oppression! There is nothing more to me than that! Live not under the impression that I can cure these ailments or curses Unlike your queen, I am not a practitioner of magic.' Then the messenger appalled, fell before Yashtan's feet And kissed them, shedding profuse tears while pleading incessantly 'Our sire, our Lord! Help us! Speak not of the queen with such disregard, for she is your wife And mother of your child to be!' 'Rouse messenger, do not degrade yourself by weeping at my feet And make not such ingenuous claims! It is your queen's hubris that has led to this moment! I speak not out of spite for her or you; indeed I love both her and you best, But you have all brought this upon yourself!' Then the messenger roused and accosted Yashtan 'So should we have handed the city to them? Opened for them our gates and unleashed their evils upon us? Should we have allowed them into our homes, corrupt our children with their baseness? Caused our women to live in disrepute with them? Then what you speak is most wrong!' 'Do not be foolish for you know what I say! That impenetrable mist alone would have sufficed for protection. Allowing it to temporarily recede and intentionally slighting them You incurred their wrath! You are not infants. Nor are you impulsive animals; for even they know self-preservation. Man should know his limits and act within them. As harsh as I may sound, I can offer you now only sympathies and nothing more! I will allow all apothecaries to lend their aid as safely as possible, For your queen is unfit to do so!' 'Oh sire please! Why do you so coldly distance yourself? Only a few days ago you brought down your wrath on them, Smote many of their kin, reduced them to mere dust, But now you detach yourself from us? Why? Why can you not ask for a heavenly boon like you did earlier? Why do you not call down a legion of angels to remove this plague?' 'Why do you suddenly believe in heavenly powers? Earlier you refused to believe, now when nothing else avails you, You seek Devine intervention! But now I have none to ask for and none to give! Go to your shrines and temples, burn the effigies and invoke your gods Light the candles in the name of holy Hinda and plead for her boons I for one am exhausted with your foolishness!' The messenger was wroth and with aggressive tone said 'Because heaven gave you aid you speak with such arrogance! It is you who is filled from head to toe with hubris! What have the infants ever done you? Why do you not plead to Aleph for them? Forget not that since this plague touches all mortals without distinction It shall pervade must brutally, your body too!' 'And that I do not deny! And unlike you, it is something I do not seek to flee! I have long known my end would come with the perversion of my health For against all else I can stand my ground! By the muarij art I was made, and by the muarij art I will die! But what of you? Go now! Leave and show me not your face! I wish to be no longer associated with you! Continue uttering under your breath, curses at me, But they shan't prevent what's coming!' The messenger dismayed, left the king's chamber. Yashtan, in despair, looked up at the sky and said 'If it is not wrong of me then I seek your help. Though it is the doing of the muarij, those wretches And these fools, inadvertently take them as their gods They who are the foes! Whatever happens, will happen and I shan't argue over it!' Yashtan sighed and walked out Beneath the forlorn mist forming a dismal aureole around the city The deserted streets echoed with the phantasms of Irkalla's whispers Men thronged before him and pleaded for help but he could offer none! Another messenger who had demolished the shrine within his home And who alone heeded Yashtan's words to give up their gods He alone, approached Yashtan collected 'Sire mine! It would seem the news has reached you, As it was bound to now or later! Pardon us for we panicked upon the onset of this plague And could not think right! My little daughter succumbed to this disease two nights prior And I was seized by grief after that, but now I come to you. If there is an order you wish me to carry, then I shall oblige.' Yashtan, lacrymose, said to him 'Tis a hapless sight! Curse it is indeed! A terrible, terrible curse! And they who've sent it can conjure the most spiteful venom from Hellish pits. It hurts my heart like the throbbing caused by a needle’s point, Repeatedly, unceasing! Do not seek pardon for it is most painful to lose a child. I can only try to understand. What do you plan on doing with the bodies now?' 'If you allow then we can start a fire And toss all the bodies to end it!' And to that Yashtan agreed CHAPTER SIX The things Yashtan saw, the things he smelt; The smoke issuing from the flames, like the ones puffed from Baal's metal pores The charnal dust rising up with the winds, spreading upon the clouds, Taking forms of puckered orifices resembling infant mouths still suckling, Sunken cheeks, hollow eyes, bony limbs, And baby squeals filled his ears, whispers returned, his mouth slavered then foamed, The eyes welled up with acidulous tears, hot with not sadness but disease, Rapid visions returned before his eyes. Of knowledge he'd learnt within the short time in Irkalla, Ancient knowledge of the divine and the undivine, the immortals and the mortals, Unpleasant scenes of war and death, Supernal and earthly. They replaced the actual view before him entirely overwhelmed him He attempted to feign composure but could not deceive long, His musculature contorted, his belly was squeamish, his mouth was insipid, his limbs writhed. He fell to the ground as terrible pangs rushed through his body upwards, His belly belched, he puked then his brain throbbed in hammering pulses. 'He's been infected!' The cry entered his ears muffled but audible. He agreed. It was the time! The contortional movements could not inhibit his relief, And he let go and lay down on the ground. The men came, hauled him away from the fire, hoisted him upon their shoulder and carried him to the palace. Daibah came to his room, thinly veiled and ushered the men out 'How could this be? You are so resilient! You are so strong! How can this be? You have betrayed me! Did we not exchange vows That we are to stay together till the end of time?' 'The vows were insane as are you. You knew such a time would come sooner or later. Either with age or disease or in war, someday you would not find me. I told you did I not? I told you to quit your arrogance, But you heeded not my words.' 'I will do something. I will do something. I can cure ailments.' 'But can you cure death?' 'Why do you wish death upon yourself? I can relieve this malady and you shall return to your former state. One of excellent health.' 'The unholy brood with time in jest conspires. And so do you, but time too expires. For who is free from the trammels of death? What nature? Clay? Light? Fire? None! Some will live long and some longer but all will end with breasts and eyes unmoving Souls squandered either on Elysium plains or Irkalla's fiery depths. My chest constricts and the beating to a near halt restricts. The growing pangs of the plague squeeze my heart in its claws Samael's pressed his lips to many clarinets for this city For its tumult does not end And it's people are unheeding of the call to virtue. My mace could only strike so much. My sword could only cut so much. My arrows could only wound so much. Life is draining from the one vein in my body. And I can feel the flame of life's passion flicker. This is the end of this kingdom.' 'Nay! Nay! Hush! This cannot happen! 'It's best I expire embodying such mortal weakness This weakened body of mine is a lesson for all, that no one however mighty will last longer than destined. No cure will avail my body now. No treatment will it accept. Go on, administer the emetics of yours which spew all kinds of poison But is there anything to treat the ailment of the soul. I guess not, and the confusion on your face tells me you have no answer. Now go and tell your people that the hero slayer of the immortals gave up on a crude bed and breathed his last most mortally. Would they agree with their goddess queen Or would they dissent most inflamed?’ Daibah had protested but Yashtan had by then ceased to live! She had taken it as an effrontery. He could not die! But he did! Though she felt the pain of loss the first time, she still did not leave her self-indulgent ways. She had a pyre prepared for her husband the very next day, and had the dead body mount it. Before the fire was lit she had drooped down and whispered into his ears ‘You are dead while I live, Whose god is the better god then? It is time to go.’ And as the pyre burned and within the issuing smoke the citizens saw some human like form embrace the spirit of the king. It was in likeness to what the myths spoke of, Green bearded and green garbed. Was it Jami? Perhaps their fancies had heightened with sickness and grief. Perhaps. As the pyre burned, Lughanshesh from the distance watched the might of their emissary turn to a dust And he saw the queen and noticed that which he had feared. Lughanshesh rushed to Bolund’s lair, exasperated. He accosted his brother and Bolund said ‘What has you so agitated? Yashtan is dead. The plan worked. Why are you so angry?’ ‘That wretched witch Daibah, I saw her swollen belly, She's full with Yashtan's seed! Wretched queen and even more wretched we! What have we done? What have we done? Crafted by our own hands a weapon to end our own kind If that child is born then, be it boy or girl It will be a being far more formidable than its parents The entire muarij powers it will borrow from its father And the terrible composition of the Daab from its mother We are doomed! We are doomed! And now that mist encloses the city once more- Yashtan has gone but left behind his legacy- It's a never ending cycle Alas! The immortal kingdom comes to an end It's the time of the prophecy of the sages Jami will come straddling a terrible mount to slay father The immortal kingdom comes to an end! Nay, I will not let this happen! Some amity even we godless ones have with fate Some indemnity we too have borrowed For I can see the gaps within the enclosure which I can penetrate I can see Not entirely but I can see The queen is weak and seized by throes of labor She cannot act except out of ego supreme and chant ceaselessly to keep intact the firmament But nay, she won't have the bliss of motherhood, I won't allow it I shall aim my projectile for her navel End the vile seed growing within her Burn her to a charred dust from within And keep intact the lovely outer shell for all to see- what happens to those who seek to contest against the Muarij’ ‘What weapon is that? What weapon do you have Lughanshesh!’ ‘An inheritance from father A wondrous bolt which only grew stronger with age, I never knew I was in possession of it until I learnt Aleph had given tethered nature’s powers to father’s make and I was born with it. Now that I am at my prime I can feel it's burgeoning powers both within and without This bolt I shall aim for her belly and end that weapon inside her.’ And then Lughanshesh, in order to protect both life and merit of himself and his kin, Armed himself with a thunder bolt pulsating with nature's energy He cast away the Lugh for her sought to channel the universal powers, not just his own And when the projectile had been forged in his hand He aimed it at the centre of Alakapur Above the roof of the Queen's abode at her stomach, stretched his arm upward for a good throw but as he brought it down his arm was grasped with force ‘You fool!’ Bolund had seized his arm! ‘What are you doing?!’ ‘What are YOU doing? Have you any sense? For once think with your mind and not your muscle! Ah! You are all a waste of space! Addlepates! Fools! Think and think well, what grows inside her can be a tool useful to us For that alone can bring an end to her queendom That babe will be the perfect weapon for us It's blood can be added to father's bolt and will definitely kill her For we will be imbibing the essence of one who is both teeming with the immortal's powers and the Daab's When she delivers and at her weakest point the firmament will clear, go and bring to me the child, and I will work to bring an end to this once and for all!’ ‘And how will you do that? How you tried to do with Yashtan? Then forget it for you are absolutely disinterested with our prosperity! I trust you no longer, So go away Bolund!’ ‘Stop it Lughanshesh and trust me this last time, One chance is all I ask and if I fail then I will myself leap of the mountain summit, This is our only hope I had sought to bring an end with Yashtan that is true indeed But perhaps the heavens intervened and granted him free will And fate sided with Daibah, But a babe is a babe and cannot act in anyway And this time fate lends us aid, so do not brush it away Bring the newborn to me and rest assured this time we will succeed’ ‘It is a risk!’ ‘War is not for the risk averse!’ ‘So be it!’ BOOK NINE (The queen of Alakapur)

Picture 25 Daibah and her newborn child. CHAPTER ONE 'Go down and bring me their babe! About his tremendous potential I have already enlightened you. Now wrangle with me no further for I have proved myself with the plague That I am capable of every feat!' Then Lughanshesh said 'Perhaps tis best you Curb your pride for we know not how this might turn out If this babe, a vile concoction of his parents displays a leaning towards his mother's, Than we could be in danger. Have you the proper means of disposing him?' 'Lughanshesh, brother mine, why do you not use your brains For you are the messenger of the Muarij And within the essence of Yashtan you endowed your intellect and speed, Yet I believe you lack the former and so did Yashtan. It would explain why he could not perform his task with ease! If I am to kill the babe to harvest it's powers for a weapon Then he would certainly not grow up to prove a threat to our kind! That in itself is a sufficient means of disposal!' 'Quiet! Foul mouthed smith! I am not here to listen to the utterances of your wagging tongue. I will go down as I am suppose to. But not upon your commands But upon the command of father. I shall bring him and then you do what you must!' Then Lughanshesh lunged toward Alakapur, Where the protective barrier had now receded entirely. And like a defenseless infant, or a wounded warrior unarmed, it lay bare beneath a tumultuous sky. Lughanshesh broke through the roof of Daibah's palace, sensing her presence faintly palpitant. And the first time saw her dwelling; A humble, homely sight, and striking simplicity putting to shame Babeel's extravagance. Then thoroughly shaken was Lughanshesh upon recalling his Previous feud with the queen. She'd proved herself a formidable albeit an arrogant opponent and he'd fled jolted by pangs of biting fear. And when to look upon her face he'd turned He saw her chamber maids abscond. Those who lingered frozen with fright, now left in haste. At a distance, upon the bed she lay, sleeping, though it was not a profound repose. Even in slumber her hands held fast onto a swaddled babe, face half buried within the cloth. Her visage completely hidden within a network of tangled black curls. Curious, he would now see her face up close. He turned her, pushing her shoulder and as the web of hair fell back, he saw her intense beauty, Black skinned, features refined and a ruddiness so pronounced, As if she'd drawn the rouge of her cheeks from the rose. But he was somewhat repulsed, for between these pulses of phantom Throes of labor, her features transfigured and deformed from one of remarkable beauty to excessive ugliness. As she lay poised between life and death she switched between her two forms. She was at once unseemly and divine. He thought of slaying her then and there, Of staining her white counterpane with whatever color she bled. But the thought of her returning ever stronger prohibited him. If she were indeed the Da'ab's daughter, and whilst gazing upon her features changing he was sure of this, That it was best to carry forward the plan of crafty Bolund. He took the infant and stared at it. It was a boy, and in his features there were both his parents. And he'd recalled the time when he'd first held a human child, Jami. The child was lovely and soft-hearted Lughanshesh hesitated at presenting him for killing. Yet, it was to be done. As he contemplated flight, a chamber woman who'd previously absconded Returned, perhaps seized with righteousness, she came before Lughanshesh. 'Immortal messenger, son of the devil, leave this infant! Violate not an innocent soul, for it would further corrupt whatever good you might have. I saw in your eyes compassion, I can see there is some goodness in your heart. Then leave this infant before you blacken that heart completely!' Lughanshesh however silenced her, by a swiping of his hand he turned her into a mute sparrow. A temporary trick, and pressing the babe to his breast he left. He carried it to Bolund's forge, where he was suprised to find his father awaiting his arrival. Lughanshesh undid the swaddle to show it to his father, But Babeel refused. 'Nay! I wish not set my eyes upon its foul face. Put it there upon the podium marked by haoma. Into the deep bowl with lukewarm water. Place the babe within and Bolund will do what he must.' 'Aye' Bolund said 'Do as father instructed.' When Lughanshesh had placed the wailing infant upon the bowl It had become comfortable in the lukewarm water And with speedy limbs splashed it outside the bowl. Babeel was overwhelmed for he was too alike Jami. But he turned and accosted his sons 'be quick with this!' Bolund drew close to the podium, Drew the curtain and stayed inside with the infant. He had a dagger and Babeel heard a thrust after which there was a silence So profound, that each could hear a raking of the dried autumnal leaves The sweeping and beating of northern winds upon the hedges The streams brushing against the carpet of moss ferns. The clouds teasing the mountain crests with faint caresses. Every living sensation in the universe witnessing the last palpable touch. They heard Bolund's chanting. A language neither knew. He spoke softly then his voice broke and turned guttural As if possessed by some ominous spirit, but who can possess they who possess others? Then Bolund stopped. They heard the wheel tracks of his chair. The draining of water. The deed had been done. Bolund emerged with a dagger stained red in one hand And a small container with a liquid. Before Babeel's feet he put the two and said 'Father, it's been done. Now the final task is yours. Stand outside and conjure the winds from wherever you can From every breath expired, And steal any breath freshly inspired. From the air issued forth from the breathing leaves, From the clouds propelling themselves along the sky, From beneath the wings of the birds in flight, The one cushioning the fall of any object moving downward From the most visible orifice to the most hidden depths Conjure every aught of wind and take it within your mouth Then blow it into this liquid. When you are done drink it and it shall equip your deadly weapon with a fatality none can escape. As for this dagger, it's been marked with that child's blood. It shall serve as the projectile you wish to throw. Tether it to the thunderbolt which has been weakened over the epochs, And smite down Alakapur and everything that it holds. Babeel did as he was asked. He walked out and stole the wind from wherever he could sense. He pushed his chest as he drew a single morsel of universal breath He puckered his lips, pulled inward his cheeks and usurped the wind of the whole world. All was still. As Bolund passed this breath from within himself to the contents in the vessel. And as he drank the entire concoction and expired the first energized puff, Many a living creature died. For every action of Babeel was inimical to mortal kind. His first puff revitalized all, for it had stolen the earthly energies. CHAPTER TWO Daibah woke up, perhaps by the aches of her phantom pain Or perhaps by the fluttering wing of the silenced bird hovering above her. When Daibah leaned against the bed, still dizzy, Lughanshesh's spell reverted and turned the sparrow to her original form. Frightened, at first she curled up against a wall, later when she regained her faculties and saw the queen regaining hers She lunged toward her bed and started weeping at her feet. 'Oh dear queen, during your slumber that horrid creature came. The one whom you'd taught a proper lesson when he came previously. I tried to stop him but into a helpless bird I was transformed. I could do nothing! Absolutely nothing! Oh what tragedy has befallen you at this vulnerable hour. They've taken your little one. Cowards. Only able to harm a woman at her weakest. Wrench him from their grasp my queen Else who knows what they might bring upon us!' Daibah's skin was rubicund at both a prudent thought of her offspring And the arousal of fright and anger of what already would have happened to the infant. With passionate tears of motherly compassion, she jumped out of the bed and threw herself over the wall Where stood her tools of magic and misery. With trembling fingers, and shivering body She collected and burned the frankincense, started a fire in the hearth, She went for a coffer hidden behind the curtain and opened its lid, From within sprung out a brood of snakes. The chamber maid shrieked and ran out of the room, Daibah took the snake eggs and breaching the rules she'd set for herself, Otherwise loth to practice the vile magic of spawning from nature, Supernal and inimical deities, she rehearsed the incantations violating the natural laws. Resorted to foul magic, added the the yolk from the snake eggs to the burning oil She walked out leaving a trail of incense smoke commingled with the foul scent of burning yolk. And she, well versed in incantations, screamed as best as she could, curses toward at the muarij. Her power was insufficient to recover the smoke and so she summoned all her strength And imbibing some from the nature, to invoke the one being she knew she could unleash. Frenzied Lughanshesh urged his father to hasten the process As he watched the low lying clouds race in earnest over Alakapur. 'Father if you do not hurry, she will contest with you for harnessing nature's prowess. Speeden your act so she can not do whatever she is trying!' 'Aye father! I believe she intends to recover the firmament but is unable to. She is weak and we should make use of that. Go on father! Proceed!' Babeel raised his arm, reminiscing the time he destroyed the immortal nations, When he returned heavenward with the Malaika's platoons, When he learnt of the new creation, when he was cast out of divine society, And he was refueled with hatred toward the mortals Channeled his wrath toward the skies and regrouped the scattered clouds. He needed not convene the recalcitrant winds for the drink had empowered him with sufficient breath Which he blowed into the whirlpool of the churning clouds. At his fingertip the skies roared, thunderous bellows frightened humans. While their father charged his weapon, the two brothers watched another sheet of clouds pacing above Alakapur! The witch performed her own counter magic. But the ground quaked, the crags tumbled and fell head first into the earth's gaping chasms. The Mt Alburd shook, they all felt unsteady and lost their footing. Babeel was unfazed and completely engrossed in his attempt to destroy the queen. The brothers watched the distant sea rIse to a lofty height. The sirens employed to keep the Daab at ease swam about in a frenzy. The low lying towns were flooded and the tide grew taller. 'She's unleashing the monster! She's unleashing the monster!' Lughanshesh yelled to his father. 'Father, hurl it down. Aim it at the centre of the city For that is where she lives Hurl it upon her head so she is crushed beneath this universal power!' Babeel heeded his cries and when he had collected the clouds And tethered them to it his vital breath He brought forth the thunder bolt gifted to him by the Divine The one gift not wrested from him when he was shamed. 'Yes father! Hurl it with full force. Else we'd spend another decade binding the monster again!' Daibah cried her incantations and the surviving residents watched In gripping horror the terrible events unfold. The skies turned red under Daibah's spell And they turned silver and dismal gray as Babeel charged his bolt. Those few who had survived the fatal symptoms of Bolund's plague, Of them, watching the current events, either died by arrested breath Or they fell unconscious, perhaps better than watching the forces of nature wrestle. The storm erupted in the ocean, it rose high and started to flood the declining regions of the massive city. None on earth that day existed who did not witness nature at its deadliest. It was a tumult worse than when King Yashtan had fought the Muarij. Many that day thought the skies were angry over Yashtan's demise That the ocean refused to accept his demise and refused to let him rot underwater. That both the winds and the waters were conniving to produce a storm Which would churn and stir the ocean belly to bring Yashtan's corpse to the surface. It was a churning akin to the cosmic churning of Kshirsagar. But Yashtan was gone, and though they did not speak it In their hearts they believed it. Perhaps it was what Yashtan had warned about. The end was near! CHAPTER THREE The Weavers looked down their well to behold the forces collide. The Sages scribed what they beheld, each in his own tongue. The Malaika arranged themselves in groups and flew to the highest clouds And beneath the rampart of Heaven's top tier they cried. 'Great Aleph! Your creation once again wreaks havoc. Earth once again cries in anguish, for she is unable to endure Their fickle pride and wrangling. Is it the time? Has Samael awoken fully from his eternal repose? Has he cast away all clarinets to hold aloft with each hand the brazen Trumpet of the End ? Is it the time? Then oh Aleph! Why do you not send us forth to pulverize the mighty mounts to charnal dust? Why do you not send us forth to upheave the tides to the heights of heaven? Why do you not send us forth to blacken earthly flames with hellish embers? Why do you not send us forth to add the murky red to the clouds' pristine blue; For when the first three have occurred, and when in utter despair men will raise their heads To address the mercy of God on High, and upon the sight of a crimsoned sky We have frightened men with the knowledge of the End! The doors of repentance are closed! Then send us forth legions upon legions to reanimate the dead, Help them come out from their graves and roam about living cities. If it is the time then send us to carry out the Hour and relieve once and for all, earth's burden!' When the Malaika's prayer was done, a beam from the highest heaven shone before them And within that pillar of light, a torch bearing cherubim emerged with a scroll And read from it the word of God 'Oh Malaika, when the Hour has come, will I allow you to tarry in heaven? If the time has come, will you not be in equal tumult as those on earth? Or do you claim to have knowledge which we have not yet given you? Samael still rests with the Trumpet beneath his black wing, All but one arm in rest. For the clarinet etched with the name of Alakapur has been lifted! The fey shadow of the SirMirai upon that land has been cast, and it's time for it to see the night!' Babeel's weapon had been charged, he armed to his lightning bolt, the stained dagger And held aloft the projectile to be hurled with massive force. The weapon was launched. Upon the pivotal spot at the heart of the city which Lughanshesh marked It's travel was short, shorter than the blink of an eye, yet it burned to a crisp all that it contacted The weapon dived into the city. No dark motes cushioned it's fall No firmament absorbed it's power The water did not seethe For a swift moment, all was calm. An effulgent dome emerged upon collision and terrible blasts of seething wind were blown from beneath it. All was destroyed! The immortals watched the destruction of Alakapur, they watched the bustling city reduce to a black crater Monuments were turned to ashes then withered away. The city began to sink, the water rose and quickly filled the crater The entire stretch of land was submerged and Enmekawar's tip drowned at last Still capped with the queen's crown. Alakapur lay submerged Under the raging billows, Under the titanic tides, An entire city now reduced to a wreckage of its former self It's blasphemous queen drowned along with her rancor for the immortals, The last of her legacy used against her. Deep in the belly of the ocean, beneath which still lurked her progenitor, Her monstrous father the Da'ab, somewhere she too lay, never to rise again. And no murj came to the aid of their people. Chants and prayers slipped from their mouth aimless, Reaching neither the throne of Aleph, nor the pride of Babeel. She was to become a tale for many poets, some who would make her a shame on the name of mortals, Some who would glorify her akin to the highest of the high! Whether she was an apotheosis of sin, or whether she was an apotheosis of pride, None knew, But what all knew and embraced- even the Muarij That she had etched her name upon the tablets of history Ever enduring like her pride From the highest firmament of heaven, at the foot of Aleph's throne, where the Malaika prostrated, and chanted His Holy Name A cloud was partitioned for the eyes of Aleph and behold the destruction of the once great Alakapur! ‘My Lord! Samael speaks to none lest you command him And upon your command the clarinet was sounded, The clarinet which bore the name of Alakapur!’ ‘Indeed and We have written from start to end, the fate of every nation, and every member born inside it, And We have set a balance and in sequence which none can override save for our permission And it is in a language none can read save We! When the Jami tree and it's bird cast it's shadow upon Alakapur, The city's name was carved upon Samael's clarinet!’ ‘Oh Lord! We know now that all doom starts with the tree of Jami, and we thought it was after Samael was to resound the terrible instrument But of course we thought wrong, for we know only that which you tell us!’ THE END

Picture 26 The strange boy attracts the sirens. Our ferry still moved, and I myself had reclined in the gangway before the boy He had stopped his tale, and spoke nothing more of it for a while But then he started ‘Would you like to know what happened to her son?’ I wondered why he'd ask me that, for he had already addressed that issue ‘The son was killed was he not? His soul was imbibed to charge the projectile of Alephthur.’ But nay, the boy shook his head, and I was amazed ‘Bolund is a craftsman, both gifted and conniving- He who fashioned a man imbued with a vitality enough to fool the Murj, Rescuing a babe's life would not have been for him, something difficult.’ ‘Then how did he save the babe?’ ‘Bolund the cunning had merely spoken an untruth To enhance the weapon of Babeel, he merely needed to tether it's power with a pint of the babe's blood, which he did, For it was the essence of both Daibah herself, plus all the Muarij within her husband It was to be infallible, and it proved to be And Bolund achieved that which he most desired, a lofty position among the immortals! He rose in stature before all, and he had made flesh the instructions given to him in an ancient dream.’ ‘Then what of the babe?’ ‘Bolund and Lughanshesh had planned to keep the boy safe, Bolund out of cunning, Lughanshesh out of sympathy. The messenger son of Alephthur took the boy, and brought him down to Irkalla.’ ‘Here?!’ ‘He was handed over to Dushashana who had then married upon the orders of Babeel, the beautiful Ishnan, and she had raised this infant with love, for this child reminded her of the infant Jami. And the two gave this child parental love, Yet never deprived him of the knowledge of his true parents For that was to serve as the boy's utmost motivation, and strengthen his resolve for the future. For every Creation of Aleph serves a purpose in life And some serve their purpose as either boon or bane for an entire nation of peoples The tree of Jami bore fruit, but it did not bear Jami!’ ‘Then who else could it be?’ Our chatter was put to a halt by a siren who screamed a terrible scream We felt the ferry lower as I watched the sirens disband their raft and it was indeed the sirens that had propelled the vessel without my intervention. Then I was appalled when I saw Irkalla’s uvula dripping with bile! How could we have ended where we are ought to start. I should have known and I knew then all too well. No! It was impossible! He dismounted the ferry. Took confident steps toward the hell hound, who diminished its vicious howls to affectionate yelps. How could I have not noticed the animal's absence when I let the boy on board? I had taken the boy from Dusashana’s doors! The boy tamed the beast with caresses. He then stood before the darkness and uttered a single incoherent word. A door appeared with a seam and he pushed it open with one hand. He opened Avernus ! Then set one foot out in the mortal world. The boy looked over his shoulder. Stared into my eyes. His beautiful features had contorted to a somewhat malignant look. His smile was awash with mischief. His eyes alive with cunning. 'I have come to learn you'll be much amused when the influx of the sinful dead increases! Worry not! For many a souls shall now be rapping on these doors. Without distinction, man, murj, even the immortal king Babeel himself!’ The warm arms of the sun encroached the threshold of Irkalla and fizzled upon its cold floor. He walked out and Avernus closed behind Yazdag, The one for whom the union of Daibah and Yashtan had been written when the universe was created. The doom of all creation!