Chapter 123 - Beyond Mind And Mansa

----------------------Drona's Sashtragar ----------------

Hidden in the lead sky, above the floating platform, Balinor watched as his shield flickered and vanished. The giant wave washed away the platform. The nilthi amber stone melted away like butter. Balinor shied. The watcher would blame the lad's death on him. 

But the dwarf could do nothing. Though like everything else here, he too was born from the chaos, he had no control over these natural forces. 

His years-long meditation revealed to him two things:- who he was and why he was there. 

As for the place, he had no idea. Long ago on the invisible mountain of xunor-xophura (caste of gold: ancient name of Ahom), he had met an old Suta. The white-bearded man, whose eyes had the wisdom of stars, told him what his birthplace was called. And the tale of the unnamed god, whose idol humbled the heaven. 

"You smell like chaos, warrior.  "  the old suta had said, holding his gaze. "This Suta reckon you are the fabled Pitr-hin (fatherless) of Garbha." 

Balinor thought the old man had gone senile as they always did. He smiled and continued to wait for the temple to appear. Nikumba, the chief among Destiney weavers, had promised to let him in Mahamaya's shrine to seek his answers.

"You're born from a stone, so they call you Partvata. The son of Mahodari, Bala, named you Balinor, for the first thing you uttered was ' Koham', just like him when Mother created him" (Koham=who am I).

There was no way Balinor could ignore the old man, who was dark as night, anymore. He gave the old suta a scrutinizing look. His white beard was flowing down to his chest like the milky river of Sursena.  There was something odd about the man, some old magic, long forgotten to mankind. His wise face fraught with wrinkles telling him, the cruel time, for eons,  had mercilessly tried to erase his visage. But his eyes, even after so many eons Balinor hadn't forgotten them, had the innocence of an infant and gleam of the sun. 

Unlike the blue cloak that all Sutas donned in those days, the old man had put on only a snow-white cotton dhoti like dwizas. 

"How do you know all of this about me?" asked Balinor, concealing his surprise. 

"Haha, you've told me all of this yourself,"  Balinor was sure, the wind had laughed with him.  "They all do," 

Balinor didn't what to make of it. Like others sutas who had come there on a pilgrimage, he was sitting under the canopies of dautya trees. And as he didn't know the ways of Sutas, he hadn't tried to approach them, afraid he might break some age-old ritual. 

When did he tell the man his story? Moreover, he wouldn't be there, sitting alone among the sutas, like a crow among swans, if he had known his tale already. 

"Who are they?" Balinor asked. 

"Humans, trees, beasts, mountains, rivers, stones, roads. All of them never learn how to hide their tale. And mark this old man's words, they will pay for it dearly. It is never a good thing to share your tale with everyone." The old man said as he picked up his kamandal, a wooden pot like Dwizas carried with them. He drank some water from it and put it away. 

"What is this Garbha?" Balinor ignored the warning of the old man. Anyway, not everything they said was true. Sutas were known for their alchemy of mixing reality with fantasy seamlessly. 

"Ah! A long tale and unbelievable too for a mind like yours." said the old man, "But I think there is no harm in telling you."

Balinor didn't know if the old man was mocking him. 

"One day, no.. at the time, day and night weren't born. In fact, time was just a toddler, moving so slowly that he bored his own mother. " The old man began, staring into the empty space. 

Balinor again was at a loss. He did hear considerable yarns, and none of them was so absurd. 

Time was an intangible thing so how he could be born to some lady. 

"So his mother decided to make him grow a bit faster. Not a wise thing to do. As a pearl of old wisdom says marry in ˈhaste, repent at ˈleisure.  But there was no such saying then, so Mother of Time molded the nothingness and created chaos. A mess of all things that were yet to come. Time giggled for he had got toys--ether, wind, fire, water, and earth, of course, spirit too. He began to play with them, and his mother accompanied him. They made a giant ball of fire, called ushma-anda (egg of fire). And the mother and son started to play with it.  Ah! How happy they were. Oblivious of what was yet to come. " Suta sighed. 

Balinor rolled his eyes. He was run out of patience. Anyway, the story was making no sense to him. So he interrupted the old man's torpor. 

"Suta, did you mistake my questions with anything else. "

"Ah! If you think so, the son of a pebble. " 

Balinor hadn't heard anyone calling him that. It didn't sound pleasant. 

"Ah! my mistake! my mistake! " Suta shook his head. His expression told Balinor that he was utterly disappointed in him. Balinor couldn't help but feel embarrassed. He had always been a bad listener, more so senseless tales of sutas. In their tales, beasts could talk, birds could think. Mountains could love. Rivers could dance. 

"I'm sorry! " said the Dwarf. 

"You should! " replied Suta, "Anyway, I'm going." He stood up, picking up his wooden pot. 

"What about you my question?" Balinor asked, baffled at the old man's little forbearance. 

"What about it? Not my problem" Suta said coldly. and he walked away. The other sutas sneered at Balinor as they distanced themselves from him. 

It took Balinor a millennium to realize his folly. He had ruined the only opportunity to know about this chaotic place.

If not for Nikumba, he didn't even know what to call his abode.

The name 'Drona's armory' was given by the first Hara in the honor of the guardian of that time. Maybe, Bala, the elephant-headed god,  was its creator. For some reason, the deity of Nimois shared a resemblance with the giant idol. 

Balinor had visited their chief, Anath, a mad man if he described correctly. The fool was hanging upside down from a tree while burning chilies below. How could such a man garner so much respect from his men? 

Despite the absurdity of the man, he had waited for him to finish whatever rites he was doing.  And after a hundred years, he came down. Of course, half-dead, talking nonsense. He waited for another twelve years and then he called him in his chamber. 

The opulence of the castle had dazzled the dwarf.  Anath was sitting on his crystal throne, known as the throne of the ream. His eighteen hands were sitting in the court too, all fierce warriors anyone of them could squash Maharathi or Gazi like a rat. Alas! They had refused to meddle in Mazia's affair as if they were living in some other world. 

"I seek a pardon from you, the guest of Garbha. Please be seated," said he smiling. The first sentence had startled Balinor. He looked at the ageless man with wide eyes. 

"Tell me what brought you here,  O master of Haras," asked he. When Balinor had taken his seat. 

"I have heard of the unparalleled wisdom of Gusaain of Nimois. They say he can see all three times. And now I see they are not just rumors. " Balinor had learned his lesson. So he started with flattery. 

"Haha, you've made me blush, the ninth devotee of Bala." Gusaain of Nimois, Anath chuckled. And there was no blush on his face.  "Please, tell me the reason why you abandoned your master and waited for me for a century. "

"Ah! I wanted to know who is Bala, the giant idol. and what is the main purpose of Garbha, " Balinor asked blushing, for all the hands were looking at him as if he were a great sinner. 

"This! " Anath looked into his eyes, "I'm afraid. I couldn't reveal it to you. " Balinot face fell. it was his last hope. Maybe none of them had any idea how difficult his life was.  The small chaotic world was like a prisoner with nothing to do but wait for eons, watching the laws fighting each other and listening to rumbles of rolling thunders, the roar of winds. 

Nothing to lose, nothing to gain, an eternal life with no purpose.  Of course, he used to train Hara, but they were hard to come by. One in eons, and once they finished their tasks, they would vanish, as if they were just myths, or dreams of the world. 

Maybe seeing his crestfallen face. Anath spoke, 

"But I can tell you that it will end one day. You will die, this world will die. As for when even I don't know. So, serve your lord well. Everything that has begun ends eventually. " 

That was all he had said.. Again eons had gone by, but the promised death didn't come.