Yakshagni - An odyssey of unbroken devotion - II

29) Jalindra

"Yakshagni?" the name evoked a dim memory of an untamed river for Dharma. She blinked, unable to grasp the nebulous images.

"Yes, that was the name of a great river. It used to flow from the Himalayas to the Indian Ocean. And I believe it had many tributaries. Pushpavati is one of them."

"This verse is an ode to the river?" Dharma asked, intrigued by Yakshagni. It sounded familiar and yet mysterious.

"Yes, this is just one verse of the poem. The entire poem was composed in praise of the river. I found it on a palm leaf manuscript in an old library."

"What has that got to do with Jalindra?" Dharma's question reminded Dushyant of Jalindra's perplexing life.

He sighed, "I hope I will get the opportunity to tell you the whole story one day. Now is not the time. Come, let us go." Throwing one last glance at Jalindra's cenotaph, Dushyant began to climb up the steps, followed by Dharma.

Dushyant was certain that Jalindra was the king of Alaka who had deserted the kingdom to escape with his love, a tribal princess. There could not be better evidence than the verse itself. The story went that, subsequent to the king's disappearance, his queen had cursed the tribe and her people of ill will and unhappiness in love. Dushyant's mission was to find the truth about the journey of that king and pay tribute to him.

Sighing, Dushyant wished he knew more about Jalindra. Nevertheless, he was pleased with himself for the tireless search. It was a strange coincidence that he met Dharma, without whom, he wouldn't have known about Jalindra or the cenotaph.

Unusual were the ways of the Universe!

He must thank Dharma properly one day, enlightening her about his mission in life. However, right now, he had duties to perform. He needed to talk to his father about his discovery and seek his advice for further action that had to be taken.

While the Sun drew the curtain for the day at Modhera, Dharma and Dushyant made their way back to their respective hotels; Dushyant to Mehsana and Dharma to Ahmedabad. Each engrossed in their own thoughts. While Dushyant mulled over the unexpected discovery of the cenotaph in Modhera, Dharma speculated about Jalindra and his connection to the ancient Yakshagni. Whispering the name of the river to herself, Dharma was gripped by an unusual absorption in the tale of Yakshagni. Her mind had conjured up an image of a swollen and turbulent river at the mention of Yakshagni. She was not certain if it was something that she had seen in her childhood, or something that her thoughts had drawn from the umpteen dreams she had. One could never be sure of one's memories; for Dharma, they were either manifested from the past or surfaced as a comforting illusion from a nightmare.

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Dushyant made his way to the river early next morning. Following his father's instructions, he performed the rituals according to his family's tradition for the purification of Jalindra's soul. From Dharma's account of the caretaker's story, Jalindra had spent a traumatised life. Dushyant was convinced that Jalindra's agony had begun after crossing to the other side of the time. He believed that Jalindra had travelled through time to another era and landed on the banks of Pushpavati; when Modhera had begun to make a mark in the history of the region.

After the rituals were performed, he waited for the gates of the temple to open so that he could peruse the inscription once again, and when the complex opened for visitors, he went down the steps to the cenotaph. Dushyant was dazzled by the intricate and breath-taking architecture. He realized that the steps were built in such a manner that water could flow without hindrance to the tank during monsoon.