BSCVadhan
Well-Known Member
[FONT="]Chapter-[FONT="]6[/FONT][/FONT]
[FONT="]The Rap Sage[/FONT]
[FONT="]Location: Mount Kailash-The Right Side of Satya[/FONT]
[FONT="]The four feet something man sitting cross legged on the gentle slopes of a grassy hillock wore a khakhi coloured Bermuda shorts buttoned around an ample waist. A faded loose fitting flowery shirt with coconut shell buttons, resting on his rounded shoulders, was flapping strenuously in the light wind. Rubber soled Nike sandals clasped his well muscled feet. His thick wavy beard sprinkled with silver, hanging to his upper stomach like a thick carpet of creepers, was wafting in the breeze. His walrus moustache hid his mouth and his hair was washed and pulled back severely into a bun right at the top of his head with a weather beaten rubber band. He had soft kindly eyes that were ready to crinkle with laughter. [/FONT]
[FONT="]
In a bye gone epoch, he had arrested his aging process by stepping outside the firm embrace of time. He was no immortal; it was just that, he suspended time and its corrosive functions through practice of yogic prowess. He was a Kriya-Yogi[FONT="] and as such he could slip between the dual slides of reality, [/FONT]maya[FONT="] and [/FONT]satya[FONT="].
[/FONT][/FONT]
[FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]For more years than he cared to remember, the sage was a healer, healing all and sundry, until one fine day he decided to rename himself. It was one of those whimsical decisions that tend to stick around forever.
[/FONT]
[FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]A yogic tug had done the trick by carting the sage right out of the dried well in the desiccated ravines of the dacoit infested Chambal valley in the State of Madhya Pradesh in central India, where he was in deep penance. Soon he found himself in a brightly lit room filled with racks of silver discs in hard, garishly coloured plastic covers. Loud festoons and displays declaring Bangalore’s support to Valentine’s Day were hanging all over the place. [/FONT]
[FONT="]
The pulsating sound from overstressed woofers and an abusive sing-song boom of foul words greeted the startled the sage. He flung himself on the floor, eyes wide in alarm, searching for the offender. It took a while before the sage realised he was listening to a form of music and that it was definitely[FONT="] not a demon from the Void raining abuses at him.
[/FONT][/FONT]
[FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]Picking himself warily, the sage set about attending to the young boy he had been called to save. It was always like that, he had to simply heed the yogic tug to heal people in trouble. [/FONT]
[FONT="]
The boy, who was not more than fourteen years of age, was on the floor, writhing like a puppet, as the seizure threatened to drain his mental faculties to the last drop. The Rap Sage touched the hapless boy briskly; thrice on the forehead and once on his navel, clearing the miniscule blood clot in the brain, the cause for the seizures.
[/FONT]
[FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]In a few moments, the boy became still and then his eyes fluttered open. He asked for a drink of water, which the sage knew, was a good sign. The boy’s grateful parents would have thanked the sage profusely had they but seen him, they couldn’t. That was because he’d let light pass through his body, simply put, he was invisible. [/FONT]
[FONT="]
The Sage felt it was always advisable to re-arrange the atoms in his body just a mite, to let light pass through, when he was out to save someone. It helped avoid the embarrassment of being either accosted or revered. He hated being called a miracle worker; the Rap Sage knew there were no miracles, just cause and effect. Some causes were not as simple as others and therefore the effects were considered dramatic. These were often mistaken for ‘miracles’.[/FONT]
[FONT="]
The sage did not know why he had saved the boy or if there was a reason at all, neither did it strike him to think on those lines, it wasn’t the first time and nor would it be the last that he was called upon to heal. What struck him as absolutely enthralling at that moment was the abusive noise all around him in what was apparently a music store.
[/FONT]
[FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]Loud words, suggesting fear, anxiety and hope with a disjointed beat as a backdrop, transformed the little sage into a state of ecstasy. The Rap Sage affiliated the rap songs to a modern-day version of hymns that the Deva and Asura Warlords had used either to extol or vilify each other in the time of the Vedas and before. The foulest language money could buy, astoundingly, added the needed profundity to the songs. [/FONT]
[FONT="]
From that day on, he started blaring away, unannounced and without sufficient prior notice at anyone unfortunate enough to be in the vicinity, inundating them with foul lyrics. The sage dressed now as the rappers, not that it required a wardrobe, as a roaming mendicant that’s what he wore anyway. Since he had shed his infamous name long ago, he started calling himself The Rap Sage. He wondered what his venerated forefathers would say to that. [/FONT]
[FONT="]Sitting on the gentle slopes of the picturesque Hillock, the Rap Sage very much wanted to meditate, if only to calm his palpitating heart. He could not. Instead he found himself in a sordid stupor, wincing at the intensity of the change in Jagam[FONT="]. Such chroma of foreboding and despondency in the air, he knew, could be created only by one being, a creature which was a component of Creation and yet which opposed it, a true Anomaly.
[/FONT][/FONT]
[FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]The Rap Sage had to acknowledge that the impossible had apparently occurred…Trigund had risen. The Rap Sage came out of his stupor with a shudder. He swiped thick beads of perspiration, formed inspite of the chilliness, from his forehead. He knew[FONT="] that Trigund was vanquished in the Vel Wars and yet…to calm the inner turmoil the Rap Sage began barking out a loud Rap song, vilifying Trigund the Anomaly.[/FONT][/FONT]
“Can’t say how he rose from the depths of Pangri
Can’t say but I am angry, yeah, I am angry
Walk with me and I’ll tell ya a gory tale or two
Trigund’s waiting to cook us in his stew
Mother, hey mother, watcha gonna do now
Sister, yeah sister, watcha gonna wear
No matter watcha do, he’s coming for you
That’s Trigund lemme tell ya
Remember the friggin numba
You gonna get that callaa
Calling you!”
[FONT="]
Not that the song helped him much![/FONT]
[FONT="]
Nature itself was carked about the impending gloom that the future augured. Shards of Trigund’s dark negativity were everywhere, stabbing jagam[FONT="] like icy blades of retribution and even in Mount Kailash, on the picturesque hillock, the Aura was apparent, reduced though it was to subtle and sporadic fumes that were struggling against the crackling clear air of The Right Side of Satya. [/FONT][/FONT]
[FONT="]
The fact that he was in the Right side of Satya did nothing to change the dark mood of the Rap Sage. He was irritated that very soon he’d have to leave its protection and dwell into the Maya[FONT="] of Bhoomi, Earth to many.
[/FONT][/FONT]
[FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]He had to trace a man, Kashyap was his name. He had to find him in a hurry because Kashyap was, he’d been told by the Bull, in more ways than one, very important to clean the mess that was about to happen. The Rap Sage was mightily miffed. He had half a mind to blare out a particularly foul mouthed Rap song at the Bull as he had done for Trigund but quickly decided against it in his own interests of self preservation. The Bull was many times his size and really short tempered! Instead the Rap Sage thought back to the time all of this had started for him. [/FONT]
[FONT="]
The Rap Sage’s life had been a constant churn of changes. Right from the time he had first come across Trigund the Anomaly till the time of his pivotal role in the Vel Wars and thereafter in his capacity as a healer.
[/FONT]
[FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]Three years earlier, a few months after he had renamed himself, on a warm sunny afternoon in Mount Abu in modern day India’s State of Rajasthan, his life had changed …yet again and he was asleep at that time, blissfully unaware of the manifestation about to happen. [/FONT]
[FONT="]
The immortal warrior saint known to some as Bhargava Ram and to others as the Axe wielding incarnate of the Parama-atma…Parashuram[FONT="] materialized without warning. [/FONT][/FONT]
[FONT="]
“O thou who has righted thy wrongs, behold, the time has come again for mine axe to be used” Parashuram declared without preamble. [/FONT]
[FONT="]
The loud proclamation had rattled the little saint out of his afternoon nap. The first thing The Rap Sage noticed about the immortal warrior saint was his brilliant burning eyes, like hot molten iron. At first, the Rap Sage thought groggily that the Warrior saint was part of his dream. By the time he realized it was not so, Parashuram’s eyes were redder; which made the sage jump up.
[/FONT]
[FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]The Rap Sage knew that Parashuram got his name from the Axe he wielded. “The Parashu”[FONT="] was said to be a gift to the Saint from Shiva himself. Cowering in dread, the sage did the only thing that came to his mind![/FONT][/FONT]
Whatcha doin’here, tell me tell me tell me
I am so absolutely full of glee glee glee
I need a moment to flee flee flee
If ya’ll don’t forgive me me me!
You’re the height of mercy mercy
Don’cha know I am a lil’ crazy crazy
Whatever I’ve done, you must see
Y’hafta forgive me me me!!
[FONT="]
“Stop! I say stop this cacophony forthwith!” [/FONT]
[FONT="]
[/FONT]
[FONT="]The Rap Sage snapped his mouth shut! [/FONT]
[FONT="]The warrior saint threw his head back and laughed mightily. [/FONT]
[FONT="]
[/FONT]
[FONT="]“Mine Axe is not aimed at you little one, yours is a prized and revered head, it is. I bid you to follow me”.[/FONT]
[FONT="]
The Rap Sage followed Parashuram obediently right through the huge luminiscent doorway of Maya;[FONT="] his senses tingling with energies he did not know existed. Through the huge luminiscent threshold they emerged into the plush green middle reaches of Mount Kailash.
[/FONT][/FONT]
[FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]The Mountain range was beyond the twin sides of reality and in the realm known as the Right Side of Satya. The massive mountain range, with steep precipices and deep valleys, streams that gushed forth, calm and serene lakes, brilliant dashes of violet and blue flowers along vast meadows, pale orange and creamy sunbeams glancing off crisp green leaves and soft grass was magnificent.
[/FONT]
[FONT="]
[/FONT]
[FONT="]At the least, the serene surroundings had a calming effect on the effervescent sage. They travelled on through the meadows, past the streams, breathing in pure jasmine scented air, until they reached a little hillock. Pointing forward, Parashuram started up the hillock at a brisk pace with the little sage scurrying behind him as fast as he could.[/FONT]
[FONT="]
Presently the duo found themselves on the highest reaches of the hill. There, in the midst of the hilltop was an expanse of still crystal clear water, mirroring the calming blue of the clear sky and the white of snow capped mountains. [/FONT]
[FONT="]
“Behold thee little Guardian, Lake Dyaus” Parashuram said waving his axe expansively. [/FONT]
[FONT="]
The Rap Sage had hardly heard the Warrior Saint’s reference to him as a Guardian. Something else had caught the attention of the little sage, something completely out of place in the serene splendor of Mount Kailash. The sage wondered if he was in a forbidden dream that reflected the dual nature of his own mind. Such was the effect of the tall grotesque man in the serene scenario, like a listless child’s stark smear of black soot on a flawless painting, a wanton act to defeat its lustre.[/FONT]
[FONT="]The Rap Sage[/FONT]
[FONT="]Location: Mount Kailash-The Right Side of Satya[/FONT]
[FONT="]The four feet something man sitting cross legged on the gentle slopes of a grassy hillock wore a khakhi coloured Bermuda shorts buttoned around an ample waist. A faded loose fitting flowery shirt with coconut shell buttons, resting on his rounded shoulders, was flapping strenuously in the light wind. Rubber soled Nike sandals clasped his well muscled feet. His thick wavy beard sprinkled with silver, hanging to his upper stomach like a thick carpet of creepers, was wafting in the breeze. His walrus moustache hid his mouth and his hair was washed and pulled back severely into a bun right at the top of his head with a weather beaten rubber band. He had soft kindly eyes that were ready to crinkle with laughter. [/FONT]
[FONT="]
In a bye gone epoch, he had arrested his aging process by stepping outside the firm embrace of time. He was no immortal; it was just that, he suspended time and its corrosive functions through practice of yogic prowess. He was a Kriya-Yogi[FONT="] and as such he could slip between the dual slides of reality, [/FONT]maya[FONT="] and [/FONT]satya[FONT="].
[/FONT][/FONT]
[FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]For more years than he cared to remember, the sage was a healer, healing all and sundry, until one fine day he decided to rename himself. It was one of those whimsical decisions that tend to stick around forever.
[/FONT]
[FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]A yogic tug had done the trick by carting the sage right out of the dried well in the desiccated ravines of the dacoit infested Chambal valley in the State of Madhya Pradesh in central India, where he was in deep penance. Soon he found himself in a brightly lit room filled with racks of silver discs in hard, garishly coloured plastic covers. Loud festoons and displays declaring Bangalore’s support to Valentine’s Day were hanging all over the place. [/FONT]
[FONT="]
The pulsating sound from overstressed woofers and an abusive sing-song boom of foul words greeted the startled the sage. He flung himself on the floor, eyes wide in alarm, searching for the offender. It took a while before the sage realised he was listening to a form of music and that it was definitely[FONT="] not a demon from the Void raining abuses at him.
[/FONT][/FONT]
[FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]Picking himself warily, the sage set about attending to the young boy he had been called to save. It was always like that, he had to simply heed the yogic tug to heal people in trouble. [/FONT]
[FONT="]
The boy, who was not more than fourteen years of age, was on the floor, writhing like a puppet, as the seizure threatened to drain his mental faculties to the last drop. The Rap Sage touched the hapless boy briskly; thrice on the forehead and once on his navel, clearing the miniscule blood clot in the brain, the cause for the seizures.
[/FONT]
[FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]In a few moments, the boy became still and then his eyes fluttered open. He asked for a drink of water, which the sage knew, was a good sign. The boy’s grateful parents would have thanked the sage profusely had they but seen him, they couldn’t. That was because he’d let light pass through his body, simply put, he was invisible. [/FONT]
[FONT="]
The Sage felt it was always advisable to re-arrange the atoms in his body just a mite, to let light pass through, when he was out to save someone. It helped avoid the embarrassment of being either accosted or revered. He hated being called a miracle worker; the Rap Sage knew there were no miracles, just cause and effect. Some causes were not as simple as others and therefore the effects were considered dramatic. These were often mistaken for ‘miracles’.[/FONT]
[FONT="]
The sage did not know why he had saved the boy or if there was a reason at all, neither did it strike him to think on those lines, it wasn’t the first time and nor would it be the last that he was called upon to heal. What struck him as absolutely enthralling at that moment was the abusive noise all around him in what was apparently a music store.
[/FONT]
[FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]Loud words, suggesting fear, anxiety and hope with a disjointed beat as a backdrop, transformed the little sage into a state of ecstasy. The Rap Sage affiliated the rap songs to a modern-day version of hymns that the Deva and Asura Warlords had used either to extol or vilify each other in the time of the Vedas and before. The foulest language money could buy, astoundingly, added the needed profundity to the songs. [/FONT]
[FONT="]
From that day on, he started blaring away, unannounced and without sufficient prior notice at anyone unfortunate enough to be in the vicinity, inundating them with foul lyrics. The sage dressed now as the rappers, not that it required a wardrobe, as a roaming mendicant that’s what he wore anyway. Since he had shed his infamous name long ago, he started calling himself The Rap Sage. He wondered what his venerated forefathers would say to that. [/FONT]
[FONT="]___________________________________[/FONT]
[FONT="]Sitting on the gentle slopes of the picturesque Hillock, the Rap Sage very much wanted to meditate, if only to calm his palpitating heart. He could not. Instead he found himself in a sordid stupor, wincing at the intensity of the change in Jagam[FONT="]. Such chroma of foreboding and despondency in the air, he knew, could be created only by one being, a creature which was a component of Creation and yet which opposed it, a true Anomaly.
[/FONT][/FONT]
[FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]The Rap Sage had to acknowledge that the impossible had apparently occurred…Trigund had risen. The Rap Sage came out of his stupor with a shudder. He swiped thick beads of perspiration, formed inspite of the chilliness, from his forehead. He knew[FONT="] that Trigund was vanquished in the Vel Wars and yet…to calm the inner turmoil the Rap Sage began barking out a loud Rap song, vilifying Trigund the Anomaly.[/FONT][/FONT]
“Can’t say how he rose from the depths of Pangri
Can’t say but I am angry, yeah, I am angry
Walk with me and I’ll tell ya a gory tale or two
Trigund’s waiting to cook us in his stew
Mother, hey mother, watcha gonna do now
Sister, yeah sister, watcha gonna wear
No matter watcha do, he’s coming for you
That’s Trigund lemme tell ya
Remember the friggin numba
You gonna get that callaa
Calling you!”
[FONT="]
Not that the song helped him much![/FONT]
[FONT="]
Nature itself was carked about the impending gloom that the future augured. Shards of Trigund’s dark negativity were everywhere, stabbing jagam[FONT="] like icy blades of retribution and even in Mount Kailash, on the picturesque hillock, the Aura was apparent, reduced though it was to subtle and sporadic fumes that were struggling against the crackling clear air of The Right Side of Satya. [/FONT][/FONT]
[FONT="]
The fact that he was in the Right side of Satya did nothing to change the dark mood of the Rap Sage. He was irritated that very soon he’d have to leave its protection and dwell into the Maya[FONT="] of Bhoomi, Earth to many.
[/FONT][/FONT]
[FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]He had to trace a man, Kashyap was his name. He had to find him in a hurry because Kashyap was, he’d been told by the Bull, in more ways than one, very important to clean the mess that was about to happen. The Rap Sage was mightily miffed. He had half a mind to blare out a particularly foul mouthed Rap song at the Bull as he had done for Trigund but quickly decided against it in his own interests of self preservation. The Bull was many times his size and really short tempered! Instead the Rap Sage thought back to the time all of this had started for him. [/FONT]
[FONT="]
The Rap Sage’s life had been a constant churn of changes. Right from the time he had first come across Trigund the Anomaly till the time of his pivotal role in the Vel Wars and thereafter in his capacity as a healer.
[/FONT]
[FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]Three years earlier, a few months after he had renamed himself, on a warm sunny afternoon in Mount Abu in modern day India’s State of Rajasthan, his life had changed …yet again and he was asleep at that time, blissfully unaware of the manifestation about to happen. [/FONT]
[FONT="]
The immortal warrior saint known to some as Bhargava Ram and to others as the Axe wielding incarnate of the Parama-atma…Parashuram[FONT="] materialized without warning. [/FONT][/FONT]
[FONT="]
“O thou who has righted thy wrongs, behold, the time has come again for mine axe to be used” Parashuram declared without preamble. [/FONT]
[FONT="]
The loud proclamation had rattled the little saint out of his afternoon nap. The first thing The Rap Sage noticed about the immortal warrior saint was his brilliant burning eyes, like hot molten iron. At first, the Rap Sage thought groggily that the Warrior saint was part of his dream. By the time he realized it was not so, Parashuram’s eyes were redder; which made the sage jump up.
[/FONT]
[FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]The Rap Sage knew that Parashuram got his name from the Axe he wielded. “The Parashu”[FONT="] was said to be a gift to the Saint from Shiva himself. Cowering in dread, the sage did the only thing that came to his mind![/FONT][/FONT]
Whatcha doin’here, tell me tell me tell me
I am so absolutely full of glee glee glee
I need a moment to flee flee flee
If ya’ll don’t forgive me me me!
You’re the height of mercy mercy
Don’cha know I am a lil’ crazy crazy
Whatever I’ve done, you must see
Y’hafta forgive me me me!!
[FONT="]
“Stop! I say stop this cacophony forthwith!” [/FONT]
[FONT="]
[/FONT]
[FONT="]The Rap Sage snapped his mouth shut! [/FONT]
[FONT="]The warrior saint threw his head back and laughed mightily. [/FONT]
[FONT="]
[/FONT]
[FONT="]“Mine Axe is not aimed at you little one, yours is a prized and revered head, it is. I bid you to follow me”.[/FONT]
[FONT="]
The Rap Sage followed Parashuram obediently right through the huge luminiscent doorway of Maya;[FONT="] his senses tingling with energies he did not know existed. Through the huge luminiscent threshold they emerged into the plush green middle reaches of Mount Kailash.
[/FONT][/FONT]
[FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]The Mountain range was beyond the twin sides of reality and in the realm known as the Right Side of Satya. The massive mountain range, with steep precipices and deep valleys, streams that gushed forth, calm and serene lakes, brilliant dashes of violet and blue flowers along vast meadows, pale orange and creamy sunbeams glancing off crisp green leaves and soft grass was magnificent.
[/FONT]
[FONT="]
[/FONT]
[FONT="]At the least, the serene surroundings had a calming effect on the effervescent sage. They travelled on through the meadows, past the streams, breathing in pure jasmine scented air, until they reached a little hillock. Pointing forward, Parashuram started up the hillock at a brisk pace with the little sage scurrying behind him as fast as he could.[/FONT]
[FONT="]
Presently the duo found themselves on the highest reaches of the hill. There, in the midst of the hilltop was an expanse of still crystal clear water, mirroring the calming blue of the clear sky and the white of snow capped mountains. [/FONT]
[FONT="]
“Behold thee little Guardian, Lake Dyaus” Parashuram said waving his axe expansively. [/FONT]
[FONT="]
The Rap Sage had hardly heard the Warrior Saint’s reference to him as a Guardian. Something else had caught the attention of the little sage, something completely out of place in the serene splendor of Mount Kailash. The sage wondered if he was in a forbidden dream that reflected the dual nature of his own mind. Such was the effect of the tall grotesque man in the serene scenario, like a listless child’s stark smear of black soot on a flawless painting, a wanton act to defeat its lustre.[/FONT]
