In the serene ambience of the ashram nestled beside the Mahakaleshwara temple in the holy city of Ujjain, the air was thick with anticipation. Satyanarayana Varma and Ashadevi stood in quiet contemplation, their faces illuminated by the soft, flickering light of the evening lamps. The significance of their discussion was palpable, their expressions conveying both solemnity and hope.
"The Mrityunjaya Yaga will indeed be most fruitful," Satyanarayana Varma said, his voice steady with conviction. The ancient ritual, known for its profound spiritual impact, was about to witness a unique turn.
Guruji Om Prakash, a figure of revered wisdom, nodded in agreement. His eyes, reflecting the wisdom of countless years, turned towards Satyanarayana Varma. "The young priest is exceptionally suited for the headship of this ritual. Mahamrityunjaya Homam has been conducted for centuries, but it is rare to find a young priest with such remarkable siddhis."
"He is one of a kind," Guruji Om Prakash added, his tone filled with both pride and a touch of awe.
The venerable monk continued, his gaze wandering to the monastery garden where the last light of the day painted shadows on the ground. "He does not confine himself to the limits of any particular adjective. He comes and goes at his own will."
A faint smile touched Guruji's lips as he shared a rare moment of personal reflection. "I know it's not something a sage should dwell on, but sometimes I wonder if he was born as my own son."
Turning his attention back to Satyanarayana Varma, Guruji's expression grew resolute. "He is more than enough. No better priest than him could be found for such a grand ceremony. Let him arrive, and together we will make our way to the palace. The details will unfold as they must."
The evening's tranquility enveloped them, as they awaited the arrival of the young priest who would bring a new dimension to the ancient rite.
Satyanarayana Varma's curiosity was palpable. "Guruji, do you have any pictures of him? A photo or something?"
Guruji Om Prakash's eyes twinkled with a knowing smile. "I'll show you."
He turned towards the wooden shelf behind him, its surface lined with a mix of ancient texts and assorted relics. After a brief search, Guruji pulled out a thick book with a deep blue cover and handed it to Satyanarayana Varma.
"This was written by an Italian priest who visited the monastery," Guruji explained as Satyanarayana Varma began to flip through the pages.
"It's an English translation of the Italian priest's account. He came here to learn about the monastery and its various branches. The book contains photographs of the young man."
Satyanarayana Varma's fingers traced the pages, and his eyes widened as he came across a photograph of a strikingly handsome young man. The youth's beauty was almost otherworldly, and the intensity in his eyes spoke of deep spiritual fervor.
"This one…" Satyanarayana Varma said, his voice tinged with awe as he held up a page. He met Guruji Om Prakash's gaze with a mixture of intrigue and disbelief. "Is this him? The chief leader of the Mahamrityunjaya ritual, Swami Chidojwalan?"
Guruji nodded, his expression one of quiet pride.
Satyanarayana Varma and his wife continued to turn the pages, their astonishment growing as they saw more pictures of Chidojwalan. The young man appeared with a host of notable figures—rulers, artists, writers, and cultural leaders. But what struck them most were the images of him among ordinary people: farmers, tribals, laborers, street dancers, and even snake charmers.
"I'm amazed," Satyanarayana Varma admitted, his voice filled with a mix of admiration and frustration. "Despite all my travels and connections, I never heard of him until now. You didn't mention him the last time we visited."
Guruji's eyes softened with understanding. "He was in Delhi then."
"Delhi?" Satyanarayana Varma echoed, his curiosity piqued.
"Yes," Guruji confirmed. "He was a student at JNU, where he completed his post-graduation with a gold medal in MSc Physics."
Satyanarayana Varma's astonishment was evident. "Someone with such academic brilliance?"
Guruji Om Prakash's smile was serene and knowing, as though he had anticipated this reaction. He offered no further explanation, letting the moment linger in the quiet of the ashram.
As Satyanarayana Varma and Ashadevi left the ashram, their hearts were lighter. The path ahead seemed clearer, and the weight of uncertainty that had shadowed their lives for so long was beginning to lift. The dark clouds that had loomed over their family were slowly dissipating, along with the curses that had plagued them. They walked with renewed hope, certain that the Mahamrityunjaya Yaga would not only be a success but a turning point in their lives.
***********
The Gajotsavam at Durgapuri erupted with vibrant energy as the festival commenced. The sky was a canvas of oranges and purples, reflecting the spirit of the celebration below. The festival's main organizers, the Varma family, were notably absent—Satyanarayana Varma and his wife Ashadevi had been called away on urgent business. In their stead, their daughter Shivatmika, with her calm and composed demeanor, took the lead alongside Balachandran, the astute general manager of Varma's company.
The festival's air was thick with anticipation and the scent of incense. Ajmal and Vaishnav, close companions of Shivatmika, stayed by her side, offering both support and companionship amidst the whirlwind of preparations and ceremonies.
The opening day of Gajotsavam unfolded with an array of mesmerizing rhythmic melas. The Ashtakshari Mela, known for its intricate melodies, and the Panchari Mela, celebrated for its vibrant beats, drew the crowds like moths to a flame. The rhythmic beats reverberated through the streets, echoing off the ancient stone walls of Durgapuri, each note adding to the festival's grand tapestry.
In the midst of this splendor, the Blue Dragons' team executed their duties with precision. Surya and his team, having been stationed in the front row to oversee the festival's proceedings, stood vigilant yet engrossed in the rhythmic displays. The team tasked with guarding Muthimala—an important strategic location—reported no unusual activity. Their updates, passed along diligently to Ajmal, confirmed the first day's smooth progress.
As dusk fell, the colorful lights of the festival cast long shadows, dancing with the flickering flames of torches. The festival's grandiosity blended with the tranquil night, and as the last echoes of the day's rhythms faded, the first day of Gajotsavam passed with the kind of serene satisfaction that only a well-executed event can bring.
The second, third, and fourth days of the Gajotsavam in Durgapuri were a spectacle of grandeur and festivity. Elephants from far and wide adorned the festival grounds, their majestic forms crowned with ornate turbans and colorful umbrellas. The air was alive with the sounds of horns, flutes, and the rhythmic beats of Panchari Mela as the elephants paraded gracefully, their heads swaying in time with the music. Throngs of elephant enthusiasts gathered to witness this parade, their eyes captivated by the elegance of the creatures.
Throughout these days, the festival proceeded smoothly. Satyanarayana Varma and his wife, Ashadevi, had returned from Ujjain and took their place of honor at the forefront of the festivities. As the chief organizer, Satyanarayana Varma was respected and admired by all, his presence a symbol of the festival's success.
Yet beneath their smiles, Satyanarayana Varma and Ashadevi harbored a quiet anxiety for Shivatmika, though her friends' constant presence offered some solace. They maintained their composure amidst the joy and celebrations, their concern masked by the vibrant festival atmosphere.
The culmination of the Gajotsavam arrived on the fifth day, marked by the much-anticipated elephant feeding ceremony. Satyanarayana Varma, overseeing the event, began the ritual by offering large, Ayurvedically prepared pellets filled with sugarcane, jaggery, ghee, fruit, and prasadam from the Shiva Parvati temple to the waiting elephants. Each majestic creature received their share with grace, adding to the ceremonial splendor.
Following the feeding, a grand feast was laid out for all who had come to celebrate. Satyanarayana Varma graciously covered the entire cost of the banquet, ensuring a lavish spread that included two types of stews and an impressive array of twenty curries. The feast was as much a highlight of the festival as the elephants themselves, a fitting end to the days of vibrant celebration at Durgapuri.
The fifth day of the festival unfolded smoothly, a seamless continuation of the vibrant celebration. The Blue Dragons, ever vigilant, braced themselves for potential disruption on the sixth day, when the grand fireworks display and musical program were set to conclude the festivities. Their concerns centered on Surya and his team, whose presence had been noted but whose intentions remained unclear.
Surya and his entourage, however, remained inconspicuous, blending into the festival's joyous chaos without causing any apparent trouble. Their behavior puzzled the Blue Dragons, who expected some sort of interference or sign from Surya, but nothing materialized. The team could only wait, their anticipation growing with each passing hour.
Meanwhile, Sachin, Selin, and Abid, stationed around Muthimala, observed the festival-goers with a sense of calm. For the first five days, the area surrounding Muthimala had been peaceful. Visitors, arriving in groups with families and friends, congregated around the old banyan tree at the base of Muthimala, chatting amiably before departing. None of them ventured towards the upper reaches of Muthimala, maintaining the peaceful status quo that had persisted throughout the festival.
************
On the sixth day of the Gajotsavam, early in the morning before the fireworks display, a group of Blue Dragons assembled beneath the sprawling banyan tree at Muthimala. The meeting, called by Ajmal, was intended to review their observations from the past five days and prepare for the day's events.
Ajmal began, his voice steady but serious. "Dear team members, today marks the sixth day of the Gajotsavam here in Durgapuri. The last five days have unfolded without incident. According to Sachin, Selin, and Abid, who have been monitoring the area around Muthimala, no one other than festival-goers has approached the vicinity. This suggests that those who were searching for the treasure, whom Sachin reported seeing earlier, are still evading us."
Ajmal's gaze swept over his friends, ensuring their full attention. "We've also been anticipating a move from Surya and his associates. So far, they haven't made any attempt to disrupt the festival. But let's not be lulled into complacency. Their inactivity doesn't guarantee they'll remain passive. Historically, the sixth day has been a time of increased tension, and the fireworks might attract unwanted attention."
He paused, letting his words sink in. "Tomorrow, on the final day, we will be occupied with both the morning and evening programs. This busy schedule might provide an opportunity for our adversaries to strike. We need to devise a strategy to ensure that the festivities conclude without incident."
Ajmal's team listened intently, their expressions reflecting the gravity of the situation. The festival's success hinged on their vigilance and preparation, and they knew that the coming hours would demand their utmost attention.
"Isn't Vaishnav outside, Dada? Can't he keep an eye on things?" Manish asked, glancing at Ajmal with concern.
Ajmal shook his head. "It's not feasible to rely on Vaishnav alone. He can't monitor both Surya's gang and Muthimala simultaneously."
Neeraja's eyes widened with worry. "Then what should we do, Dada?"
Shivatmika, calm and composed, interjected, "For now, we should focus on Muthimala. Our priority is to protect the treasure there."
Sanju nodded in agreement. "The treasure at Muthimala is crucial. We need to ensure it remains secure."
Ajmal, having listened to the discussion, stood up. His gaze swept over the group, each member attentive and ready for his final directive.
"Alright, friends," Ajmal began, his tone resolute. "On the final day of the Gajotsavam, when our program is underway, Vaishnav will remain stationed around Muthimala. If anything suspicious occurs, he should alert one of us immediately. If we're occupied with the program, he can reach out to the performers. If they're unavailable, he should contact someone else—just make sure the issue is reported."
Everyone turned their attention to Vaishnav, who nodded with determination. "Understood, Dada. I'll handle it."
Ajmal's eyes were steely with resolve. "Whatever happens, we face it together. The treasure of our country takes precedence over the festivities. Those who seek to steal it are our greatest threat."
The team nodded in agreement, their faces set with purpose. With the plan in place, they dispersed, ready to execute their assigned tasks and ensure the safety of Muthimala.
************
Elsewhere on the festival grounds, Surya and his crew huddled together, their conversation hushed but intense.
"Hey Surya, what's the plan?" Salman asked, a note of frustration in his voice.
Surya, momentarily confused, glanced at Salman. "What's the matter?"
Salman's impatience was evident. "Don't you remember? They've made fools of us. This festival is our chance to fight back. I've been saying this for days."
Surya looked around, observing the festival's chaotic charm. "I don't know. Aren't they all together? How can we get to them?"
Salman's eyes narrowed as he pointed out the shifting patterns of the festival-goers. "Notice anything? They're not all in one group now. They've split into smaller clusters—three or four at a time. Doesn't that present an opportunity?"
Pratish, observing Surya's contemplative expression, chimed in. "You're right. When did we start playing it so safe? But—"
Gokul cut in, his tone sharp with curiosity. "But what?"
Surya's expression grew thoughtful. "If we strike one group, the others will come rushing in. We need a way to isolate them before we make our move."
Salman, eager for a solution, pressed, "So what do we do?"
Surya's gaze sharpened as he formulated his plan. "There's a way. Today's the day of the fireworks. We'll use the chaos to our advantage."
Pratish and the others leaned in, their eyes fixed on Surya, awaiting his detailed strategy.
Surya's lips curled into a knowing smile. "Just watch and see," he said cryptically, his tone brimming with confidence.
*************
As evening approached, the anticipation for the fireworks was palpable. Festival officials and attendees alike were buzzing with excitement, ready to witness the grand display that had been the highlight of the Gajotsavam for years.
On the northern edge of the festival grounds, a thatched firehouse stood, its purpose evident from the array of fireworks stored inside. Shelves were lined with a variety of pyrotechnics, from traditional Katina and Vana to Olapadakam and Malapadakam, as well as the more modern Chinese-made munitions. The fireworks, a significant feature of the festival, were sponsored by local chieftains, adding to the event's grandeur.
Each year, the fireworks display went off without a hitch. A team from Alakkudy, a neighboring area to Durgapuri, was responsible for crafting the necessary props and orchestrating the show. Their expertise ensured that the display was always a spectacular success.
Given the historical smooth execution of the event, and the usual minor issues like verbal squabbles and minor scuffles among intoxicated festival-goers, additional security measures were deemed unnecessary. The organizing committee, led by Satyanarayana Verma and composed of local volunteers, typically handled these minor disruptions with efficiency, trusting their regular approach to be sufficient for the occasion.
Surya had long felt the eyes of the Manish, Neeraja, Sanju and Naveen of the Blue Dragons on him and his friends. For days, they had been surrounded by the vigilant members of the Blue Dragons, who were clearly keeping a close watch. So, when the Blue Dragons finally dispersed into smaller groups, Surya saw his chance.
He approached Suni, who was busy with the final preparations for the fireworks. Suni, the head of the Alakkudy firework team, was arranging the pyrotechnics with precision. With no one else nearby, Surya walked up to him.
"Suni, bro," Surya said.
Suni looked up and smiled. "Haha, Surya! Long time no see."
"Yeah, I came to see you," Surya replied, reaching into his pocket.
Suddenly, a sharp clap echoed from behind. Surya turned to find a young man leaning casually against a sleek CBR 250 bike. The man, dressed in a black shirt and pants, was clean-shaven and strikingly handsome, likely in his mid-twenties. He clapped his hands again and gestured for Surya to come closer.
Surya, his suspicion aroused, moved toward the man.
Will continue...