The Yoga Zapper--A Novel, page 21
“Come on, come on,” demanded the voice impatiently. Jack focused his gaze. President Kallin and the chief of police stood in front. The Hand of God wore a dark-red, almost burgundy-colored, suit with an expensive red-striped tie, buffed black shoes, and his eyes, always dark, flashed. Jack shivered. Kallin appeared more menacing than ever. Jack felt extremely vulnerable, as if waiting for his execution, but then remembered the reason for his imprisonment—he possessed something Kallin wanted. Revulsion for the dictator soured his stomach.
“Where am I?” he asked.
“You’re in Central Prison,” replied Contog.
“What do you want from me?”
Kallin walked around, examining Jack from top to bottom, his shoes clacking loudly on the floor. “So you think you traveled here from the past, do you?”
Jack felt sick. They had recorded his conversations.
Kallin laughed. “There’s no use hiding. My scientists traced your ancestry. The last humans with your mitochondrial DNA sequences died out about a couple of hundred thousand years ago. How do you explain that?”
Kallin knew everything and lying served no purpose. “Yes,” Jack admitted, “I am from the past.”
“Of course. It explains the mystery surrounding you—the DNA, your sudden appearance in Kallington and all the other things that didn’t make sense before.”
Jack shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know what difference it makes now.”
“It makes all the difference in the world,” laughed Kallin. “I would have you shot just like your girlfriend if I didn’t find out about this time travel business.”
“Why are you interested in time travel anyway?”
Kallin flashed a toothy grin and stroked his gray beard excitedly. “You see my boy, there comes a time in every man’s life when he examines his existence and asks, ‘Is that all there is?’ He looks back, measures his accomplishments and demands if is he is satisfied. Do you understand?”
Jack shook his head blankly.
“I rule the entire world and there’s nothing left for me to do here. I want bigger, better challenges.”
“What do you mean?"
Kallin looked at him with mad, beady eyes. Behind them burned a sick restlessness, a barely concealed feverish exhilaration. They darted ceaselessly, glancing at him, at Contog, across the room and, in his excitement, his eyelids twitched. “I need new realms to conquer. I will go into the past and take it over. I will go into the future and master it as well. I will rule the entire world, not just now but forever. None greater than me in human history shall exist.”
The Hand of God cackled, a strange high-pitched peal betraying a wildly agitated mind. Jack’s heart beat uncontrollably. Kallin proved to be not just dangerous, but mad.
“My boy, you brought me something no one else has. Do you know what it is?”
Jack shook his head.
Kallin pulled himself up and thrust his hands up in the air, as if grasping the world. “You gave me hope, new trials, new horizons, a chance for untold wealth. I will become, not just a man, but God. All I want is a shot at immortality.”
The dictator sharpened his gaze and slammed a tablet in Jack’s hand. “What I need from you is the secret for time travel. Write it down.”
Jack stood with his mouth wide open.
“Well, come on,” insisted Kallin.
“I…I don’t know,” stuttered Jack.
“How did you come here?”
Jack found himself explaining the details of the Yoga Zapper, the mantra and the intricacies of the ritual. Kallin scratched his beard in exasperation. He pointed at the tablet.
“Write it down. This Yuga Zipper or whatever you call it.”
Jack held the device with shaking hands. “I don’t remember the mantra. I never expected to memorize it.”
“Really? You never committed something as important as time travel to memory?”
“But it’s not just the mantra. The stars need to be in proper astrological alignment and God’s grace is essential.”
“The stars? What bullshit! As far as God is concerned, am I not the Hand of God?”
Jack kept quiet.
“Well?” roared Kallin. “What is it?”
“I don’t know,” stammered Jack. “I don’t remember.”
“I’ll get it out of you, boy,” snarled Kallin, “even if I have to kill you.” He eyed Contog. “General, you know what to do.”
Contog nodded. “I’ll squeeze it out of him.”
“Good. Call me when you have the information.” He turned around and quickly walked out.
Contog waited until Kallin left. “I’ll be back for you soon,” he said, scratching his rough, creased face. He slammed the door and left.
* * * * *
Jack slowly got up and hobbled into the bathroom. It contained a metal toilet, a shower, a single light bulb swinging from the ceiling and a steel mirror on the wall. His face was a mess. Deep cuts furrowed his head, both cheeks were bruised badly, the cut on his lower lip shone raw and red and a huge tender bump rose on his forehead. He touched his ribs and gasped. Jack staggered to the toilet seat, hissing painfully through clenched teeth.
The past, his world, lay shattered in a million pieces. He felt like a caged rat facing a dead end in every direction. If he escaped to the Rak slum, he would surely be eaten alive and if somehow he reached the ancient ruins, the rebels would kill him. And Kallin’s police and guards encircled the entire area.
How could I be so immature, he questioned. Ever since his arrival in this world he had acted stupidly, impulsively, and uttered things that cast suspicion and danger on Maya and himself. The agony from his wounds stung, but the torment of losing Maya hurt more. She had warned him many times, but he pursued her until his foolish, immature games led to her death. At the exact time he finally connected with her, he lost her. But did he really love her or was he just using her again? He angrily smashed his fist against his head. What did she say about hurting everyone he came across? He hadn’t believed it, but she told the truth.
Suddenly the memory, the thought that escaped him all this time, the painful, deep remembrance, returned. The whole episode replayed painfully in his mind. He stood on the steps of the Krishna temple while Steve, his face angry and wet with tears, divulged their mother’s passing away. And he reacted predictably to the situation by escaping. His brother accused him of selfishness, insisting that he cared only for himself, that he didn’t care who he hurt, that he had wounded Mom, pushing her away at every opportunity. Didn’t the same thing happen with Maya? For the second time in his life, he could say nothing. First Mom, now Maya.
Didn’t Maya instruct him to search for the answers in his life? Okay, let me ask a question, he thought. Why do I feel alienated from everyone and everything; why do I keep moving from one thing to another?
Suddenly, the answer hit him. Of course! This started when Dad died! Being so young he did what any little kid would do he pushed that enormous, inexplicable event somewhere deep and covered it up with an attitude so huge that it never saw the light of day. The insight felt stunning, crystal clear, but another intuition arose. He didn’t know how to deal with it, how to make peace with his father’s death.
He got up, looked at the mirror and felt a great revulsion and loathing for the face staring back. He smashed his fist against the metal and dropped to his knees. Bitter tears rolled down Jack’s face, burning into the cuts on his skin.
“Help!” he cried. “Someone help me.”
Chapter Twenty Six
Shambala, End of Satya Yuga
In all, two hundred souls assembled at the pasture. Each tribe or community wore their distinctive dresses, ornaments, and decorations—rose coral necklaces gracing their necks, dark kohl tracing their eyes, tattoos lining their skins and red and black woolen shawls wrapping their torsos. Some had bodies the color of dark rainclouds, others came from desert lands and wore long robes, several, light-skinned and blue-eyed, appeared from the northern snows and a few, golden-hued with enchanting black eyes, journeyed from the southern seas. Others, copper-skinned and almond-eyed, wore necklaces of blue topaz and red seashells, a few stood tall and thin as young coconut trees, several resembled short and stout baby baobabs while some sported straight black hair, ivory skins, and beautiful fish-like eyes.
The huge havan, well over thirty feet on each side, with logs stacked in its middle, lay in the center of the great meadow. Around it, in front, in the place of honor, assembled the yogis and rishis and behind them, like spokes emanating from a wheel, gathered the different tribes and communities. Parvata Rishi stationed himself at the head of his group, with Steve next to him.
The leaders of each community rose one by one and spoke about their ancestries, the lands of their peoples and their long journeys to Shambala. Upon his turn, the rishi addressed the assembly, introduced Steve and enquired about Jack. Steve’s heart sank when none offered any news.
After the introductions, a yogi, tall and dark-skinned, head shaven and robed in the orange cloth of a sannyasi, a renunciate, walked up and sat facing them.
Parvata Rishi glanced at Steve. “This is the great yogi, Samacharya. We are fortunate to have his darshan today.”
“As the yugas progress, from Satya Yuga to Treta Yuga to Dwapara Yuga and finally to Kali Yuga,” stated the Yogi, “the knowledge of the Vedas, the original spiritual teachings, will gradually diminish and finally be lost. At the end of Kali Yuga, mankind will be in a much-degraded state.”
Steve turned to Parvata Rishi. “How is it possible to lose these teachings?” he whispered.
“It is the nature of time that things get dissipated. What is now whole and complete will splinter, diminish and then disappear over the course of time. This is true not only of physical objects and ancient wisdoms but also of virtues such as morality, non-violence, justice, and truth.”
Samacharya Yogi continued. “This is the purpose for our presence here. Today we will perform a yajna that will create a mandala, a mystical circle, around this place.”
Steve looked at the rishi. “What is he saying?”
“Our ritual will create a kind of shell around Shambala,” explained Parvata Rishi. “This invisible dome will protect us from the advancement of the yugas and within, we will remain hidden from the world and protect the teachings from the corruption of time. Hidden in this valley, our duty is to act as vessels in which these teachings are stored and, millions of years from now, when Kali Yuga ends, to reintroduce the wisdom of the Vedas, which contain the teachings of Yoga, to humanity. If we are successful, Satya Yuga, and thus the cycle of time, will start again.”
“One may ask why we should stay here in Shambala,” Samacharya Yogi continued. “Let me describe what will happen at the end of Kali Yuga. Here are a few passages from the Srimad Bhagavatam, one of our shastras.
“‘As the earth thus becomes crowded with a corrupt population, whoever among any of the social classes shows himself to be the strongest will gain political power. Where there is a predominance of cheating, lying, sloth, sleeping, violence, depression, lamentation, bewilderment, fear, and poverty, that age is Kali, the age in the mode of ignorance.
“‘Because of the bad qualities of the age of Kali, human beings will become short-sighted, unfortunate, gluttonous, lustful and poverty-stricken. Cities will be dominated by thieves, the Vedas contaminated by speculative interpretations of atheists, political leaders will virtually consume the citizens and the so-called priests and intellectuals will be devotees of their bellies and genitals.
“‘Businessmen will engage in petty commerce and earn money by cheating. Even when there is no emergency, people will consider any degraded occupation quite acceptable. Harassed by famine and excessive taxes, struck by drought, they will become completely ruined.
“‘Cows will be like goats, spiritual hermitages will be no different from mundane houses, and family ties will extend no further than the immediate bonds of marriage. Most plants and herbs will be tiny, and all trees will appear like dwarf Sami trees. Clouds will be full of lightning, homes will be devoid of piety and all human beings will have become like asses.’”
Parvata Rishi leaned over to Steve. “Actually, at the end of Kali Yuga,” he reported, “ordinary citizens will become so harassed that those who can, will flee the cities and hide in mountains and caves. Life will be hellish.”
Samacharya Yogi continued reading. “‘In the age of Kali, people’s minds will always be agitated. They will become emaciated by famine and taxation and will always be disturbed by the fear of drought. They will lack adequate clothing, food and drink, and will be unable to properly rest, have sex or bathe themselves and will have no ornaments to decorate their bodies.
“‘Lord Vishnu, the spiritual master of all moving and nonmoving living beings and the Supreme Soul of all—takes birth to protect the principles of dharma and to relieve His saintly devotees from the reactions of material work.
“Lord Kalki, the avatar of Lord Vishnu, will appear in the home of the most eminent brahmana of Shambala village, the great soul Vishnuyasha.’”
“What is an avatar and who is Lord Kalki?” asked Steve.
The rishi bent over. “An avatar is a representation of a higher reality in a lower one. The Vedas declare that Lord Vishnu descends, or should I say, his avatar appears, on this earth from time to time. According to the shastras, of the ten major avatars of Lord Vishnu, a future one named Kalki Avatar will lead the forces of good against evil at the end of time.”
Samacharya Yogi continued, “‘Lord Kalki, the Lord of the Universe, will mount his horse Devadatta and, sword in hand, travel over the earth exhibiting his eight mystical opulences and eight special qualities of Godhead. Riding with great speed, He will kill by the millions those thieves who have dared to dress as kings, as oppressors.’”
Steve stared at the rishi with trepidation.
“Keep listening,” instructed the rishi.
“‘When the Supreme Lord, the Supreme Personality of Godhead, appears in their hearts in His transcendental form of goodness, the remaining citizens will abundantly repopulate the earth.
“When the Supreme Lord appears on earth as Kalki, the maintainer of dharma, Satya Yuga will begin again and human society will bring forth progeny in the mode of goodness.’”
Steve turned to the rishi. “So a great battle will occur at the end of time?”
“Yes, Kalki Avatar will come to lead good against evil in a war that will consume the entire world.”
Steve’s face turned ashen. Somehow, suddenly, he knew with certainty that Jack had traveled to the end of Kali Yuga. The insight lay hidden in his subconscious, something his gut told him. A cold wash of fear and anxiety showered his body. The rishi read his mind.
“And yes, your brother’s life is in danger.”
Steve instantly, finally, connected with Jack. The past couple of months of living in Satya Yuga and his daily yoga practice had purified his consciousness and he finally saw, as the rishi promised, his brother’s karma.
An image of Jack rushed to his mind. Jack sat crouched on his knees, clasping his hands in front of him in a cold, dark prison cell. His clothes were torn, his feet remained bare and a single light shone above his head. Jack was in danger! Steve gulped rapid, shallow breaths, his eyes opened wide and apprehension contorted his face. Did he dare to go to Kali Yuga and sacrifice everything near and dear to him? He loved Shanti so much. Could he give her up?
“Now let’s start the yajna,” instructed Samacharya Yogi. “All who remain inside this mandala will be protected from the ravages of time. Those outside, will not.” Steve had to go somewhere, anywhere, to escape his terrible bind. The extreme restlessness that had gripped him all morning finally overcame him. He jumped up and glanced at Shanti. Her face whitened and her mouth opened in surprise. Something in his chest twisted and pulled. He turned and ran away from the assembly with all his might, not knowing or caring where he went. Behind him, the yajna began.
Chapter Twenty Seven
Shambala, End of Satya Yuga
Steve ran from the meadow until he reached the stream. He slowed to a brisk walk, his mind vacant, following the river downstream until it broadened, slowed and the grass gave way to pine forest. He came upon a small clearing surrounded by a thick grove of evergreens, where sharp pine needles pricked his bare feet, and lay down. The idle chatter of redbirds echoed around him.
The rustle of the wind sounded like trees whispering secrets to each other. All his life, people repeated riddles in his ears, yet he comprehended none of them. Life’s meaning lay hidden under the obvious of the manifest world, lying there for the taking, but somehow he never broke through.
The dense green woods reminded him of something. Of course! The first time he spoke to Shanti, in the forest outside the village. The same feeling of seclusion and privacy enveloped him here. Did he fall in love with her then, the first time they met? What was love anyway? Parvata Rishi had informed him that human love reflected the divine love between God, the supreme soul, and the infinitesimal individual soul; that the perfection of love is the ultimate spiritual understanding. He shook his head. He felt no wiser than before.
He gazed vacantly at the sky, following the movements of small, puffy, white clouds. The river softly swirled, its waters lapping gently on the bank. A flutter of wings suddenly sounded in the trees.
“Well, hello.”
Steve got up quickly and turned around. Shanti had located him. He sat up, his hands resting behind him.
“How did you find me?”
“It wasn’t too hard. I know you well enough by now.” She sat next to him. “What are you doing?"
