In Bhairavi, the second book of the Maha-Asura series, Prakash Om Bhatt takes us from the blood-soaked battlefields of Tretayuga to the shadows of modern-day India, where gods, demons, and humans are all pawns in a deadly cosmic game. Read an excerpt below!
Naari
Tretayuga
Lanka
The killing of Sita had led to a deafening silence in the camp. Not only Sri Ram, but the entire army of apes, along with Hanuman, Lakshman, Sugreev, Nala, Jamabavat and others, felt the clasp of rage, agony, sorrow, anguish and pain in their hearts. ‘Brother, we shall avenge every drop of blood spilt from Maa Sita’s body!’ Lakshman, adrenaline rushing through his veins, declared as he put his hand on his elder brother’s shoulder. ‘Lanka will be destroyed!’ ‘That scoundrel will pay for his sins!’ Hanuman said, clenching his fist. ‘Indrajit will be dead, O Lord!’ Just then, Vibhishana, the son of Vishrava, entered the camp. He could sense the thick tension in the air. He comprehended the entire situation as he looked at the bodiless head of Maa Sita lying on a rock, and then at the distress on everyone’s face. ‘Maharaj, I didn’t think you would have fallen for the dubious scheme of Ravana’s son!’ Vibhishana said in a sympathizing tone. ‘What you think is Maa Sita’s head, is simply a deception!’ ‘Deception?’ Hanuman asked, flabbergasted.

‘I have known Indrajit since before he learnt to walk. I am well aware of his crooked schemes and deceitful plans!’ Vibhishana said as he took the head of Maa Sita in his hands. ‘To ensure that Ram and his army grow despondent before the war, Indrajit has created this optical illusion with the help of the great illusory asura, Vidyutjihva. My spies have just confirmed that Maa Sita is still in Ashokavatika, the garden with the Ashoka trees!’ ‘What is the reason for doing this right now?’ Ram sneered, almost shouting the words at Vibhishana, Ravana’s younger brother. ‘The point is . . .’ Fear lurked in Vibhishana’s eyes as he said the next words. He lowered his voice to a whisper. He knew that only the people present in this camp had the ability to stop the catastrophe Ravana was about to bring to the world—a secret that would mutate the future of the universe.
Present Day
Coimbatore
There was a light murmur in the air, indicating that the birds would soon fly away to find food for the day. The midnight blue of the night was gradually fading away. The golden glow of dawn was about to paint the sky. Bhairavi Maa, Sadhvi Maa, Manasvi and ten other faithful devotees reached the enormous 112-feet idol of Adiyogini. Everyone bowed to this Mahayogini; she represented all the sixty-four yogini forms of the Devi. ‘ॐ नमश्चण्डिकाायैै! Om Namashchandikayai!’ Bhairavi Maa folded her hands as an expression of gratitude for her devotees and said, ‘You may all rest now.’ Everyone, except Sadhvi Maa and Manasvi, bowed down to her and started walking towards their huts. And the trio of Bhairavi Maa, Sadhvi Maa and Manasvi walked for about a kilometre to arrive at a private chamber of the ashram where none of the disciples or devotees were allowed. They walked through an enormous gopura, the monumental entrance of a temple. There was a naagbandham—literally, the bond of the serpents—figurine on the gopura. On crossing it, they reached a temple-like structure, beside which stood a small hut. A six-feet-tall trishul, or trident, had been wedged into the ground at a forty-five-degree angle in the courtyard of the temple. Numerous trees, small and big, lent a sense of serenity to the place.
It seemed as if it would need three or four people to open the wooden door of the temple. There was the ॐ carved on either panel of the door. Bhairavi Maa looked at Manasvi and Sadhvi Maa. Taking the cue, they went inside the hut to get a huge salver laden with a variety of fruit. Sadhvi Maa and Manasvi held the platter, which weighed almost eight kilos, with both their hands. Reaching the gate, Bhairavi Maa assumed the yoni mudra, a hand gesture to call upon the Mother Divine, and started the chanting of the beej mantras, the seed syllables.
‘लँँ . . . वँँ . . . रँँ . . . यँँ . . . हँँ . . . ॐ . . . ’ ‘Lam . . . Vam . . . Ram . . . Yam . . . Ham . . . Om . . .’ Sadhvi Maa and Manasvi joined her in the chanting. ‘लँँ . . . वँँ . . . रँँ . . . यँँ . . . हँँ . . . ॐ . . .’ ‘Lam . . . Vam . . . Ram . . . Yam . . . Ham . . . Om . . .’ After chanting the beej mantras thrice, Bhairavi Maa raised her hands in the air and the doors opened without being given the slightest nudge! Before stepping into the temple, the three women bowed their heads in obeisance. This had become a daily routine for the three of them. Manasvi and Sadhvi Maa knew a secret that even the closest devotees of Bhairavi Maa had no inkling about! ‘Amma,’ Manasvi’s voice was laced with worry. ‘The agitation is quickly growing. Isn’t it?’ Bhairavi Maa remained silent as they walked a few paces before coming face to face with the deepest secret and the most mysterious aspect of Shakti Ashram. It appeared as if their arrival had been awaited for hours.
Present Day
Rajkot
The city of Rajkot was about to hit the sack. The dulled sound of the winter winds filled the otherwise quiet hour. The truck had stopped about an hour ago on the university road to make a delivery. Before the driver could finish the formalities and unload the sacks of wheat, Riya jumped out of the back. This caused her wound to start bleeding again. But who had the time to tend to the physical injury right now! The garden in front of the famous love temple was bustling with people. Riya was still wearing Hamid’s jacket and cap. It would be foolish and dangerous for her to start her journey towards Vasant Niwas before the city slipped into slumber. She had no option but to wait. She found a secluded spot in the garden, put her cap on her face and sat there quietly for about an hour. The city seemed unaffected by worldly affairs, and exuded peace. At around 9.30 p.m., when it was nearly time to shut the garden to visitors, the guard went around requesting everyone to leave. Riya, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, walked out of the garden. With a careful stride, she entered the nearby Mayur bookstore. Though there was no customer in the store at this hour, from the body language of the store owner, it was evident he was not going to shut down anytime soon. She did not have any money, so she wouldn’t be able to buy anything. However, she had to pass her time, and so Riya picked up a month-old Bharat Today magazine from the rack. Coincidentally, the cover story was about the owner of a multinational company and the most eligible bachelor in the country. INDIA’S HEART-THROB AND GEN-Z’S INSPIRATION . . . VIVAAN ARYA! A photograph of Vivaan sitting on a royal throne was on the cover page. In the picture, he looked no less than an emperor born to conquer the world! Can someone who was an inspiration yesterday become a traitor today? Can the hero of the youth suddenly become the most wanted criminal in the country?
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