On the dark path filled with discarded animal bones, running step echoed.
Each step roared with fierce urgency.
One lone Rakshasa is rushing, he is the one who didn't gather in the crowd, his eyes were fixated on a lone structure in the distance.
As he gets closer, the skulls of a buffalo stood out, planted outward above the entrance of ruined temple, surrounded by ominous dark smoke.
He didn't slow down and kicking the door open, he hurries inside, his steps echoing like a growl, he clearly is in a hurry.
As he passed through the pillars, he saw it, a statue of Mahishasur strangling a deva, statue is cracked, fractured and Mahishasur is missing a part of his horn.
Suddenly, the Rakshasa pierced his wrist, blood spurted out covering the floor.
As it spread, he relaxes and falls to his knees.
He looked at his other wrist, and one question echoed in his mind:
"Who healed me?"
He was confused and looked angry. Why wouldn't he be? This was the ritual he performed every day for his idol.
That scar... from which he drew his blood daily, it was a mark of faith passed down through generations, a mark that carried the blood of Mahishasura.
"How dare that healer try to undermine my faith? What did he even think he was doing!?" he growled.
As he stabilized his breathing and curled up his legs into meditative state, he closed his eyes and focused on the energy he felt pulsing through his wrist. A single ominous smoke cloud entered his mind. Slowly, it formed into a face, the face with those dark, shimmering buffalo horns. Then came the empty, pupilless eyes, the strands of hair dangling across the face.
"My idol," he thought.
He sat there in silence. "My idol, Mahishasur was resurrected yesterday. My idol touched me." The thought kept echoing in his mind as time passed,for hours no noise can be heard in this dead pataal.
After some hours, it came as a whisper: "His choices need consequences.",a ruckus was forming outside, noise kept getting louder and louder as it turned into a roar.
Outside, many footsteps approached...so loud, and so many, that even the ground trembled.
The ground shaking and deafening voices finally brought him back. He was sweating as his heartbeat kept increasing. He stood up, and took support from a wall to stand, he walked calmly outside.
After going through the gate, he witness thousands of Rakshasas facing toward the temple, their chants overlapped, leaving a barely coherent sentence: "His choices need consequences." Some of them were waving flags belonging to different clans... Shankarakshy, Agnakshy, Nintyakhsy, and more.
Some stood against the crowd, few of them carrying betaal on their shoulders with ominous energy surrounding them, smirking as if they carried blessings.
Most of others carried an old book covered with rags.
While remaining were the ones who often visits the mahishasura temple, crowd kept some distance from them.
As he approached them, he felt a pressure too much to bear as it disappeared he felt many eyes fixated on him.
With another step, he heard: multiple voices "You!" While a dreadful shiver ran down his back He ignored it because it were betaal; they are known for blabbering non-sensical things.
"Why is this crowd here?" he asked.
"They are angry that someone else won't fight for their delusions," replied the Rakshas with a ragged book.
"Don't play with me—" Before he could complete that sentence, he was interrupted.
"What's your name?" This question came from a group with betaal on their shoulders.
"Bhatsyasur," he replied.
Before any of them could utter a word,
voices from the crowd interfered.
"Move!" "His legacy deserves to be demolished!", different faces spoke different emotions, some were genuine - some were not."He abandoned us all."
"Who?", asked Bhatsyasur.
"The one for whom we prepared food enough to fill millions for a day.". Other chimed in,"We were going to give our life on his command, just for him to leave? Mahishasur's legacy doesn't belong here,"
Bhatsyasur was stunned. My idol abandoned? He froze and his mind drifted away from reality, as questions came in his mind:"Why? He was supposed to conquer the heavens. Isn't that what we need the most?"
Then in his mind, a memory echoed: "Remember, Bhattsya, heaven is nothing but eye candy."
"Papa, where do you get this knowledge?"
"Paatalah Samhita."
"Read it, read it, Papa."
"Heaven is nothing but a privilege of the mind. Eye candy for the unjust... not in hand but in head."
With this memory, Bhatyasur calmed down and voices jolted him back to reality.
"We don't see Paatalah Samhita as holy scripture," said the horn-covered Rakshas.
"Are you denying its power?" asked another Rakshas with ragged book, as the pressure increased. Shouts came from the crowd "Can you prove its power?" "Don't take us for fools!"
Bhatyasur screamed,a scream loud enough to awaken Nagas from kilometers away.
All that remained was roaring silence, with all eyes fixed on Bhatyasur as he crouched. A colossal naga in the distance testifying the reach of that scream.
Slowly, Bhatyasur stood and said, "I will prove it's holiness"
With that, he connected himself to a temple pillar. Suddenly, all fire around dimmed, waterbodies flared up, and Rakshasas from the crowd fell unconscious.
In all direness, a mantra echoed:
"Aham bandhyate," recited Bhatyasur.
With that, ragged-book Rakshasas froze as they realized their part. With the shaky legs they too touched one pillar each and recited something incomprehensible.
From above, the maniacal laughter of betaal carrier echoed as the stalagmite's drip fell, strange light came from inside of temple darkened the place.
"Bhatya, Bhatya, Bhatya, Bhatya…" murmured the betaal as they stood on the head of their carriers, as they lounged and disappeared into him, through which a strange calmness spread throughout the place.
The crowd stood shaken to the very core, as if pierced from within. Those who were capable to clung to their consciousness could not utter a single word.
"Haha, my being is complete," said the Bēṭāl-carrier, as scars appeared across their bodies. One by one they fell dead, their bodies were carried away by small snakes.
"Was this much proof enough?" asked Bhatsyasur.
The crowd remained silent, though anger flickered on their faces. One among them stepped forward, but Bhatsyasur did not wait to hurry forth and shatter his jaw.
"Take it as a warning, or take it as an invitation. But if you take one more step... you will die.", said Bhatsyasur.
Then, like a swarm of ants, they all lunged at Bhatsyasur. The clash began: ragged book-carriers, distant nagas, and matsyas rising from the lakes all witness... for as they will have to justify their silence. That raging swarm only met with death, as Bhattyasur killed each one, sometimes ripping a heart out, sometimes shattering their bones.
Some seeking to destroy legacy got separated from the swarm and ran toward the temple. One, in the mid-rush, increased his size and slammed his both hands into the temple's wall but it did not budge. In turn, two hand imprints appeared on Bhattyasur's chest, upon which small cuts appeared on his body with growling pain Bhatsya just became more determined whenever a temple-demolishers tried to destroy the temple.
Ragged book-carriers with bulging eyes, a wide grin, proclaimed with laughter, "It was successful! Bhattyasur is bound with the temple. Not even Indra can destroy this temple until Bhattyasur dies!". They were clearly proud of being part of that ritual, as their maniacal laugh echoed.
The temple goers collected the bodies of the fallen from the swarming crowd and threw them into the lake, for the Matsyas to feast upon, while separating and collecting their heads.
That separated ones remerged with the swarming crowd as they heard the ragged book-carriers' proclamation.
Bhattyasur's body was covered with blood and flesh. Veins could be seen bulging, but he was not breaking. The swarming crowd became small, smaller, until the last two ran away.
With that, Bhattyasur collapsed. As he looked at his hands, tears rolled down his cheeks. He may have carried the weight of massacre, his past companions, the army that would have lead the Rakshasas to heaven, has now become the dead meant to be remembered. He fell unconscious, carrying tears into his dreams.
Inside the temple of Mahishasur, severed heads were arranged in a sequence. Each skull bore incense placed in front of it. The whole temple reeked of smoke. Families had come to mourn; mothers wailed, crying hysterically outside.
Many outside were beating unconscious body of Bhattyasur, though their blows had no effect. Others were cleaning the blood and rotting remains.
"Maa, why are they putting incense in front of all these dead heads?" asked a Rakshasa child to his mother, who was cleaning nearby.
"Because, son, the resolved are meant to be respected. These heads belong to those who died trying to achieve something," the mother replied, while sweeping away the rotting remains.
Souls dwelled in the whole temple,as they may resent or they may not but they will be remembered.