TWENTY-TWO
Arjuna paused briefly and Bheema cried, "Don't keep us in suspense!"
His brother took up his story again.
The sun was rising over Devaloka as they flew along. How could he describe the realm of the Gods? He hadn't words for the luminous plains, studded with a thousand cities, in which Matali said a thousand immortal kings ruled; none for the mountains like jagged jewels, the rivers flowing across those fervid landscapes, at times like dreams in turquoise, at others like broken, fluid sunsets. Through visionary cloud-kingdoms they flitted and a huge excitement took hold of Arjuna.
When they had flown an hour, Matali said, "Look, the sea."
The ocean of Devaloka is a deeper, more vibrant blue than any sea of the earth. It is so profoundly blue you want to plunge into it, drown yourself in it. Plunge into it is exactly what Matali did! Arjuna cried out in alarm as he saw him fly straight down at the waves, without slowing the vimana a bit.
Matali laughed at his anxiety. "How did you think we were going to arrive at the Rakshasas' city? My ship is as easy through water as through air."
Next moment, they had cloven the surface of the sea and were below its waves. It was exactly as the sarathy said; Indra's ship sailed as effortlessly under water as it did through the sky. At first, they could see some of what lay around them by the daylight that penetrated down here. As they dived deeper, they were soon shrouded in a black night. Matali moved his slender hands over his panel of jewels and the submarine world was lit by piercing lamps shining out in broad beams on all sides of the vimana. Such a fabulous world those lamps illumined!
This was another universe. If the sights of Devaloka on land were extraordinary to Arjuna's eyes, the translucent world under the ocean of that realm was utterly miraculous. Brilliant fish shone like lights of the soul, in colors that have no names in human tongues. The seaweed and mosses were phosphorescent, the vivid coral breathed and the very rocks were sculpted into majestic shapes.
As they sank, down and down, the Pandava saw mountains here taller than those on the surface world. Matali's vimana ploughed through the dark water, at his very thought.
Through ravines between towering massifs, that craft flitted like some huge sea-creature, banking and turning as if with eyes of its own and a will. It flew so swiftly that Arjuna was certain they would dash into one of the mountainsides at any moment. But that did not happen.
He asked Matali, "How does your vimana fly so surely?"
Matali replied gravely, "My ship is alive, Indra's spirit is in him."
Arjuna did not question anything after that, but began to prepare himself for the task ahead. He sat with his eyes shut in dhyana, summoning all the power he had. Even as deep restfulness spread through his body, Matali woke him from his trance, "Look, Arjuna."
The vimana had slowed. They were just emerging from between two mountains that faced each other like titans, both covered in fluorescent mosses and teeming with fish. Ahead of them, they saw a low plateau rising from a depression in the ocean floor. Arjuna caught his breath to see the city built on that tableland.
It must have been thirty leagues square. All of it seemed made of lucid crystal, of every color imaginable: some muted, some coruscating. The Pandava saw crystal palaces—there were no homes in that city that were less than palaces—and crystal towers reaching for the surface of the ocean. Blazing lamps lit the city of the Nivatakavachas. They had created their own sun and moon beneath the waves!
The sheer scale of the demons' city astounded the Pandava. It was covered by a transparent dome and as they drew cautiously near, he saw exotic vimanas flit through the air under this dome. Matali had put out the lamps of their own ship, to approach the Rakshasas' lair unobserved.
For all its grandeur, its loveliness, an aura of evil hung over the submarine city, a darkness of the soul. Matali shivered and it was all Arjuna could do to keep his hands from shaking. Suddenly, they felt watched by something inconceivably malignant, though they neither saw nor heard anything. Their ship quivered and they could feel it struggling to remain on course, because its every instinct cried out to turn and flee the macabre plateau.
As abruptly as they had sensed it, the feeling of being observed vanished. Matali sighed in relief.
Arjuna strung his bow. He did not trust the lull and he was not mistaken. The next moment, all the lights of the demons' city went out, leaving them plunged in darkness. As complete as the darkness was the sinister silence that engulfed them. Now it began: the onslaught of the Nivatakavachas on their minds. Arjuna thought he was back in the palace in Indraprastha and had just woken from a long dream.
So compelling was the hallucination he actually rose from his 'bed' and walked out of his 'bedroom' to wash his face. Matali caught his wrist and pushed him back into his seat.
"It is the demons' maya," the sarathy hissed. But he had a monster's face, bloated and fanged and his eyes were baleful. Arjuna reached for his sword, when he felt a warmth suffuse his chest and a burst of light. Someone unseen was fighting the asuras' sorcery. Matali's face was his own again, but worried.
"We mustn't stand still!" he cried. As if in response, the vimana flashed up from where they had lurked in the dark, thinking they were invisible. Lamps on again, they flew directly over the city of the Nivatakavachas, above the dome. Matali passed his hands over his panel; Arjuna's seat was thrust aloft so he was above the rest of the vimana. He was surrounded by a skin of some sheer material, like a large bubble, which kept the water out. Then the seat vanished from under him and he found he could stand steadily, because the bubble did not sway or shake, but was rock-like.
"The warrior's place," Matali said. "You can shoot your astras through the skin, Arjuna."
The Pandava felt a wave of affection for the little sarathy: he was so calm at this critical time, all his wits about him. As they circled above the eerie city, they saw a flotilla of vimanas spew out from the covering dome and fly at them. Dark weapons were mounted on these craft; some already spat serpentine narachas.
Burning missiles snaked at them from every side and Arjuna began to hallucinate once more. Part of him saw the tracers of fire flaring at them; but he thought he was imagining this: because, actually, he was back in the Dwaitavana, sitting beside the lake with Draupadi and Bheema. The first of the narachas rocked the ship and woke Arjuna from his trance. He should have shot it down, but had stood bemused by the maya of the demons.
Matali cried, "The mohini astra, Arjuna! First, the mohini."
The dazed Arjuna would not have thought of it himself. Even now, it took all his strength to summon the astra. It seemed as if another will held his mind and his limbs in a vice. Strangely, now, he thought not of Indra or any other God, but of Krishna. He saw his cousin's face, smiling at him, just as if he stood before him under that sea. The darkness around them seemed to give a lurch and dissipate. Arjuna's mind cleared, as if whatever had held him in its power shrank back.
In a flash, he lifted the Gandiva and shot his astra at the city of Rakshasas. They heard the keening song of the mohini. They felt the sea-bed shudder and then no more illusions troubled them.
But now they were surrounded by the Nivatakavachas in their vimanas. The demons attacked them with all sorts of sorceries and bizarre astras of their own. It was all Arjuna could do to keep them from blasting their ship in shards. Matali, at his panel, was superb; they flitted here and there, quicker than thinking. The Rakshasas' missiles missed them narrowly, some erupting so close they were rocked.
Arjuna felt no fear or hesitation any more. He invoked the madhavastra and loosed it at the Rakshasa fleet. Swifter than light, separating in a thousand different astras as soon as it touched water, that weapon blew the demon ships into sand. Those who died never knew what killed them.
And now they saw the strangest sight: some of the Nivatakavachas swam back into their city, swimming as fluently as the fish around them. Their smooth bodies had skins and scales, both. They were humanoid, yet they had fishtails and tentacles, too. Squirting clouds of black ink, so the enemy could not see them any more, they streaked away into the city's fastness before Arjuna could aim at them again. Each one of those monsters was clad in silvery armor, like their skin: their impenetrable kavachas.
Matali below cried, "Look, Arjuna, the dome opens for them. Quick, shoot the Vajra into the city!"
Arjuna cried back, "Be prepared to fly, Matali, or we shall also be consumed."
"I am ready," the sarathy replied. "Quickly Arjuna, before the dome closes."
There was no time for thinking. In a moment, the mantra was on Arjuna's lips and the vimana shook with the summoning of a mahastra. The bubble at the crown of the ship took blinding light. The Pandava looked at his hands and his body and they were joints of blue-white lightning. The Vajra was upon him, charged with Indra's power. Arjuna drew back his bowstring and loosed the Vajra.
It flew out like a flare from a star and all the dark water around them turned fulvid. It was daylight, as if the sun had risen from the bed of the sea. The daylight grew luciferous and they saw the very waves were ablaze. Even as his legs turned weak and Arjuna fell into the soft seat that appeared under him, they flashed away toward the surface. In less time than it takes to think of, they burst out of the water and flew up into the sky.
Below them, the ocean was livid. There was a star erupting under the waves that had turned into tidal flames, reaching for them with white-hot fingers, as they flitted out of reach. As it consumed the city of Nivatakavachas, the explosion of the Vajra shook the vimana high in the air; all Devaloka quaked.
They flew on in silence, both of them overwhelmed, Arjuna trembling. After a while, Matali turned to the Pandava with a smile. Impulsively, he embraced the prince and cried, "You are the greatest kshatriya of all! For an age, no army could do what you have just done by yourself."
But Arjuna's eyes were full of the splendor of the ocean-city they had just destroyed. Somberly, he said, "Matali, that was the most beautiful city in heaven or earth. I feel more sad than triumphant."
Matali said softly, "That city was not built by the Rakshasas, neither did it belong to them. It was our city, wrought by Viswakarman, once and great was its glory. We once lived there for yugas; but were driven out by the Nivatakavachas and we could do nothing to win back our city, because the demons had Brahma's boon that no Deva could kill them." He sighed. "But some days after you had the Vajra from your father, we decided the Rakshasas must die. Even if our ancient home was consumed."