Chapter 10 — Prisoner
Year 4800, Satyayuga
6063 years before present day
Malāsura awoke with a start, his head reeling. Inky blackness greeted him all around. He rubbed his eyes, but the darkness remained. He raised his arm, before him, but still saw nothing. He tried to shake the weary haze from his head, but it did not help.
And then Malāsura realised—Is this Narakā? Naruksha’s spell—the lowly dūtas must have managed to bring me to the dungeons of Hell. Malāsura scrambled up, trying to get his bearings. He stood up clumsily, his breath in short gasps. He stumbled forward, arms outstretched, reaching before him. He took a few steps, feeling for the cell wall, but there was none.
Malāsura squinted, straining his eyes. Where am I? But the darkness was absolute, he saw nothing. He ambled forward, carefully feeling the coarse ground with his feet. A few small stones struck his toes, and he picked them up. Grunting, he threw one of them as hard as he could, and listened. Then he heard it, a soft thud of the stone landing on dry soil. The thud was eerily loud, and Malāsura realised how silent the surroundings were. No gentle brush of the wind, no soft rustle of leaves. He felt around with his feet—my footsteps seem strangely muffled. The ground is dry and sandy, not the rough stone of a prison cell. A dungeon? Nay, I am out in the open. Mild hope rose in his chest. Did the yamadūtas let fall their burden, unable to carry their burden? I am though, unbound and free. And where were the abominable louts of Naruksha? He could still see nothing before him, the murk was everywhere.
The barren wastelands of the lower realms were all uncharacteristically similar, yet Malāsura knew them all. But here, he could not orient himself, it was disconcerting. Even below the lower realms lay the adholokas, the absolute foundations of the universe itself—Narakā and the great Garbhodhaka ocean. This must be Narakā, Malāsura thought to himself. But where lay hidden the immense palace of Yamā, where were the endless dungeons and caves filled with tormented souls? And why am I walking free?
Malāsura then tried to fly, but his body refused to listen. He grunted, shook his head, and continued forward, warily testing the ground every few steps. Hours passed. Or perhaps, days? There was no way to tell. He walked and walked, but the terrain never changed, and the silence remained. Malāsura stopped, and exhaled loudly. Exasperation began to set in. Naruksha, that fiendish cur! Malāsura screamed. No echo greeted him, just the vast boundless abyss that stared back.
——
Naruksha continued to watch the chained asura before him, eyes narrowed. The hapless figure twitched every now and then, its dark eyes clouded over, and darted left and right, but not really seeing anything.
“You there!” Naruksha snapped his fingers at a frail yamadūta with a scarred face that stood at the side.
“My Lord!” the yamadūta scurried over and bowed low. “Your spell is strong as ever, wise master! Malāsura shall not wake unless you bid him to.”
“Good. Keep him so. I want to know when he starts to bleed from the ears. And then we shall begin the other torments.”
“As you command, master.” the yamadūta bowed. It then rushed back to the captive asura, and checked the large shackles that kept him bound. They held fast.
“What are you called?” asked Naruksha.
The yamadūta bowed again, even deeper this time, almost bent double. “Yes, master. Tanvarōka is my name.”
——
Year 591, Treta yuga
5472 years before present day
Naruksha snapped his fingers. Malāsura’s body slowly rose upright, as he slowly drifted in and out of consciousness. Naruksha nodded to Tanvarōka. The small yamadūta grunted, and pushed the lever. The heavy crucible tilted, and lava slowly flowed over the brim, and on to Malāsura’s back. Malāsura bellowed in pain, straining against the chains. The rancid stench of burning flesh filled the small cave.
“I have found that molten rock is the best way to wash filth off bodies. If only there were a way to mask this foul stink!” Naruksha laughed, and spat on Malāsura’s face. “You are not worthy of the asura name, you deceitful leech! You are no longer Malāsura—I hereby name you Malasāra, the very essence of repugnance! Yes, Malasāra, I name you. Malasāra, you are. Malasāra, you shall be.”
“Ma—la—sā—ra! Ma—la—sā—ra!” Tanvarōka rhythmically chanted, as he tipped the crucible more.
“I...am...Malasāra” the asura whispered. Every word was a strain, and his senses in a haze. I am Malasāra. Each drop of lava seared into his skin, as did the name in his mind. I am Malasāra.
Tanvarōka emptied the crucible, and the body below slumped, and the head hung limply.
Naruksha smiled with an ominous glint in his eyes. “Go prepare the fire pits. This trecherous maggot will know the meaning of pain!”
I am Malasāra. But a mild voice rose from the depths of his shattered mind. It said otherwise. Am I not? I am. I—must be. I am Malasāra, I am. But wh—who is this boy I see? Who is this asura that carries him?
Immense fires blazed bright high around him, and great scorpions rose from the flames and stung every inch of his body until it shrivelled from the venom. “Ma—la—sā—ra!” Tanvarōka chanted. Cruel beasts gnawed on his flesh.Worms burrowed deep into his skin. Despair clouded his mind. I am Malasāra. Enormous monsters trampled his bones to dust. Boiling tallow flowed down his throat, until his insides burned away in thick smoke. “Ma—la—sā—ra!”. Thorned whips slashed at his back, and ripped his body to pieces. Anguish and misery engulfed him. I am Malasāra. Insects crawled into his mouth, and ate away at his tongue and eyes. “Ma—la—sā—ra!”. Hopelessness swallowed him whole. I am Malasāra. Faceless demons sang and danced around him, as their red-hot serrated spears sliced his flesh. He knew little else but agony. I am Malasāra. Serpents crushed him to pulp, their poison seared his face. I am Malasāra.
Millenia passed.
But Malāsura, am I not?
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