About the Book
In the glorious post-Vedic era, Dandaka is a forest kingdom in central India. Green and prosperous. Neighboring states have their eyes on the wealth of Dandaka. Kosala in the north, Andhra south, Vidarbha in the west and Kalinga to the east. The main concern of the young king of Dandaka, Mukund Verma, is to save his kingdom from the evil eyes of the neighbouring states unaware that the real enemy is lurking within his own state.
The emperor of the mighty neighboring kingdom of South Kosala, Rudrasen, launches a wanton attack on Dandaka with the help of the internal enemy. Dandaka not only faces external attack but is also to become victim to internal rebellion.
With the shrewd war strategies of the young queen Kusumlata, Dandaka succeeds in humbling its enemies to the dust. The defeated and humiliated Rudrasen is determined to take revenge on Kusumlata but is also frightened by the strategic shrewdness of the young queen. In his desperate desire to defeat Kusumlata, Rudrasen yearns to get a magical yantra and the spiritual powers it contains, blind of the knowledge that the yantra is cursed. In his frantic pursuit to obtain the magical yantra, Rudrasen must compete with rival seekers of the yantra.
What heavenly powers lie within the yantra and what curse stays the hands of those who would unleash them?
Who finally manages to get hold of the yantra and who will become the victim of its curse?
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Book Excerpt
It was way past noon, almost dusk when the sky was wrapped in the receding orange rays of the setting sun.
“Devdutt, it’s time for the evening prayer; be ready,” Brahmabhat ordered his young brother.
“With all due regards, this is also the time for my hunting,” Devdutt replied.
“Enough with your childish games. You are a grown-up man now; find some order and discipline in your life.”
“Childish games? I have been under a regime of order and discipline since childhood! When did I get to experience childhood?”
“So, will you make up for that now? Don’t argue further, and just get to the prayer hall.” Brahmabhat paced away.
Devdutt was fuming with annoyance. He knew full well the consequences of crossing his brother’s orders. He would not hesitate in punishing him with stern actions, regardless of him being the younger brother. One could not keep disobeying his orders; after all, he was the head of the monastery.
Devdutt arrived at the prayer hall and joined the other monks. But his heart was elsewhere. ‘Leave these childish ways,’ his brother’s words still echoed in his ears. When had he engaged in any ‘childish ways’? Not now, not even when he was supposed to - in his childhood. Did he ever have a normal childhood? After his parents’ demise, his brother raised him in the strict discipline of monastic life. Order, discipline, sincerity, routine, practice - these words shaped his childhood years. When the other kids played with butterflies and bees, he would be aiming at a mark with his bow and arrow. When the other kids enjoyed the swings and rides, he would be sweating it out at the wrestling ground in mud. When the others played with peacocks and birds, he would be learning to control an unruly horse. Hardness of character resulted in his heart gradually turning stone cold. No wonder he enjoyed hunting and killing innocent animals. Fantasy fairies, the flutters of butterflies, and the buzzing of bees—all this was never a part of his childhood growing up. The sweet scent of spring, the dance of the clouds in the monsoon, the vibrancy of a rainbow, the falling of autumn leaves, or the shiver of the winters never reached his heart. There was nobody in his life to introduce him to the softer, imaginative, fantastical things of the world. There was no one to tell him the bedtime stories, the tales of gods and demons. Many nights, he would just lie back and gaze at the starry skies. Stars seemed like the embers rising from a Yagna furnace. The sound and play of lightning seemed like the sacrificial offerings to Gods. But even his nights were not his. He had to wake up at the break of dawn to start his day.
It was not as if he never yearned for doing all that the other kids did. He missed the affection of a loving mother and caressing of a father. He never had that in his destiny. All he had was the life of a strict monk handed over to him without his permission. At times, his heart would erupt like the fire furnace of Yagna. Anger and resentment would envelope him. Maybe his channeling this fire into his practice was what resulted in him becoming a fine warrior with a sculpted iron frame.
His physique was extraordinary, and he knew that. As soon he entered his adolescent years, he started to get attention from girls around in the learning centre. He started to work even more on his physical exercise regimes. Wrestling not only helped channel his anger but also strengthened his body with every passing day. Piercing difficult targets with his arrows thrilled him. As he moved from inanimate static targets to living, moving animals, he started feeling a new kind of unprecedented excitement. His hardened heart felt little when he pierced innocent beasts. Hunting emancipated him from the life of hard rituals and discipline. In the wild, he was free and in control of his own destiny and of the animals that he hunted.
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About the Author
Sandeep Nayyar is a mechanical engineer by qualification, an IT consultant by profession and a writer by choice. Born in 1969, Sandeep has had a great flair and passion for writing since his early childhood. Despite qualifying as an engineer he has also worked as a journalist and has written regular columns for various newspapers and magazines. Sandeep now lives in the UK with his wife and two children.
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