The Secret of the Nagas

  ‘The temples?’

  ‘You are exceptionally intelligent, O Neelkanth!’ smiled the Pandit. ‘Yes, the temples work as our transmitters. Therefore the temples we use have to have a height of at least fifty metres. This helps in catching radio waves from other Vasudevs and in turn transmitting my thoughts to them as well.’

  You mean other Vasudevs are hearing us all the time, Panditji?

  Yes. Whoever chooses to hear our conversation. And very few Vasudevs would choose not to hear the saviour of our times, great Neelkanth.

  Shiva frowned. If what the Pandit was saying was true, then he could speak to any Vasudev Pandit at any of their temples across India right now. Then tell me this O Vasudev of the Magadh temple, what did you mean by saying that people are attached to evil?

  Shiva heard a loud laugh. It appeared to be coming from a distance. The Vasudev Pandit of the Narsimha temple at Magadh. You are too smart, Lord Neelkanth.

  Shiva smiled. I would prefer answers to flattery, great Vasudev.

  Silence.

  Then Shiva heard the voice from Magadh clearly. I really liked your speech at the Dharmakhet war. Har Har Mahadev. All of us are Mahadevs. There is a god in every single one of us. What a beautiful thought.

  What does that have to do with my question? I asked why people should be attached to evil.

  It does. It very profoundly does. There is a god in every single one of us. What is the obvious corollary?

  That it is the responsibility of every single one of us to discover the god within.

  No, my friend. That is the moral. I asked what the corollary was.

  I don’t understand, Panditji.

  Everything needs balance, Neelkanth. The masculine needs the feminine. The energy requires the mass. So think! Har Har Mahadev. What is the corollary? What balances this statement?

  Shiva frowned. A thought occurred to him. He didn’t like it.

  The Vasudev of Ayodhya urged Shiva. Don’t stop your thoughts, my friend. Free flow is the only way to discover the truth.

  Shiva grimaced. But this cannot be true.

  Truth doesn’t have to be liked. It only has to be spoken. Speak it out. The truth may hurt you, but it will set you free.

  But I can’t believe this.

  The truth doesn’t ask for belief. It just exists. Let me hear what you think. There is a god in every single one of us. What is the obvious corollary?

  There is evil in every single one of us.

  Exactly. There is a god in every single one of us. And there is evil in every single one of us. The true battle between good and evil is fought within.

  And the great evil connects itself to the evil within us. Is that why people get attached to it?

  I believe that when you discover the great evil of our times, you will not need any explanation about how it attaches itself so deeply to us.

  Shiva stared at the Pandit in front of him. The conversation had shaken him. His task was not just to discover evil. That would probably be easy. How would he get people to give up their attachment to evil?

  ‘You don’t have to find all the answers now, my friend,’ said the Kashi Vasudev.

  Shiva smiled weakly, uneasy. Then he heard the distant voice of someone he didn’t recognise. A commanding voice, a voice that appeared to be used to being powerful. Strong, yet calm.

  The medicine...

  ‘Of course,’ said the Kashi Pandit, as he got up quickly. He was back in no time, with a small silk pouch.

  Shiva frowned.

  ‘Apply this on your wife’s belly, my friend,’ said the Kashi Pandit. ‘Your child will be born healthy and strong.’

  ‘What is this?’

  ‘Its identity doesn’t matter. What matters is that it will work.’

  Shiva opened the pouch. There was a thick reddish-brown paste inside. Thank you. If this ensures my child’s safety, I will be forever grateful to you.

  The voice that Shiva had not recognised, the one that had ordered the Kashi Vasudev, spoke. You don’t need to be grateful, Lord Neelkanth. It is our duty, and honour, to be of any assistance to you. Jai Guru Vishwamitra. Jai Guru Vashisht.

  Shiva was at the window. From the height of the palace walls, he could see the congested city and beyond that the wide Sacred Avenue. On its edge, close to the Brahma Ghat stood the mighty Vishwanath temple. Shiva was staring at it, his hands clasped together in prayer.

  Lord Rudra, take care of my child. Please. Let nothing go wrong.

  He turned around as he heard a soft cough.

  The most important people in India were waiting with bated breath for news of Sati and Shiva’s child. Daksha was fidgeting nervously, deeply afraid.

  He is truly concerned about Sati. Whatever else he may or may not be, he is a devoted father.

  An impassive Veerini was holding Daksha’s hand. Emperor Dilipa sat quietly, watching his children, Bhagirath and Anandmayi, who were in an animated, but soft conversation.

  Dilipa kept staring at Bhagirath...

  Parvateshwar, who had recovered completely from his injuries in the past three months, stood strong at a corner of the chamber. King Athithigva paced up and down the room, upset that his own doctors had not been given the honour to deliver the Neelkanth’s first-born. But Shiva was not about to take chances. Only Ayurvati would do.

  Shiva turned around. He saw Nandi standing near the wall and gestured with his eyes.

  ‘Yes, My Lord?’ asked Nandi, coming up to Shiva.

  ‘I feel so helpless, Nandi. I’m nervous.’

  ‘Give me a moment, My Lord.’

  Nandi rushed out of the chamber. He was back with Veerbhadra.

  Both friends went up to the window.

  ‘This one is good!’ said Veerbhadra.

  ‘Really?’ asked Shiva.

  Veerbhadra lit the chillum and gave it to Shiva, who took a deep puff.

  ‘Hmmm...,’ whispered Shiva.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I’m still nervous!’

  Veerbhadra started laughing. ‘What do you hope it will be?’

  ‘A girl.’

  ‘A girl? Sure? A girl can’t be a warrior.’

  ‘What nonsense! Look at Sati.’

  Veerbhadra nodded. ‘Fair point. And the name?’

  ‘Krittika.’

  ‘Krittika! You don’t have to do this for me my friend.’

  ‘I’m not doing it for you, you fool!’ said Shiva. ‘If I wanted to do that, I would name my daughter Bhadra! I am doing it for Krittika and Sati. Krittika has been a rock of support in my wife’s life. I want to celebrate that.’

  Veerbhadra smiled. ‘She is a good woman, isn’t she?’

  ‘That she is. You have done well.’

  ‘Hey, she hasn’t done so badly either. I’m not that terrible a husband!’

  ‘Actually, she could have done better!’

  Bhadra playfully slapped Shiva on his wrist, as both friends shared a quiet laugh. Shiva handed the chillum back to Veerbhadra.

  Suddenly, the door to the inner chamber opened. Ayurvati rushed out to Shiva. ‘It’s a boy, My Lord! A strong, handsome, powerful boy!’

  Shiva picked up Ayurvati in his arms and swung her around, laughing heartily. ‘A boy will also do!’

  Setting an embarrassed Ayurvati back on the ground, Shiva rushed into the inner chamber. Ayurvati stopped everyone else from entering. Sati was on the bed. Two nurses were hovering close by. Krittika was sitting on a chair next to Sati, holding her hand. The most beautiful baby that Shiva had ever seen was next to Sati. He had been wrapped tight in a small white cloth and was sleeping soundly.

  Sati smiled softly. ‘It’s a boy. Looks like I won, darling!’

  ‘That’s true,’ whispered Shiva, scared of touching his son. ‘But I haven’t lost anything!’

  Sati laughed, but immediately quietened down. The stitches hurt. ‘What do we call him? We certainly cannot call him Krittika.’

  ‘Yes, that is out of the question,’ smiled Sati’s
handmaiden. ‘Krittika is a woman’s name.’

  ‘But I still want him named after you, Krittika,’ said Shiva.

  ‘I agree,’ said Sati. ‘But what can that name be?’

  Shiva thought for a moment. ‘I know! We’ll call him Kartik.’

  Chapter 8

  The Mating Dance

  Daksha rushed into the room as soon as he was allowed, followed closely by Veerini.

  ‘Father,’ whispered Sati. ‘Your first grandchild...’

  Daksha didn’t answer. He gently picked up Kartik and much to Sati’s irritation, unfastened the white cloth that had bound the baby tightly, letting it fall back to the bed. Daksha held up Kartik, turning him around, admiring every aspect of his grandson. Tears were flowing furiously down the eyes of the Emperor of India. ‘He’s beautiful. He’s just so beautiful.’

  Startled, Kartik woke up and immediately began crying. It was the loud, lusty cry of a strong baby! Sati reached out for her son. Daksha, however, handed the baby over to a beaming Veerini. To Sati’s surprise, Kartik immediately calmed down in Veerini’s arms. The Queen placed Kartik on the white cloth and swaddled him again. Then she placed him in Sati’s arms, his tiny head resting on her shoulders. Kartik gurgled and went back to sleep.

  Daksha’s tears had seemed to develop a life of their own. He embraced Shiva tightly. ‘I’m the happiest man in all of history, My Lord! The happiest ever!’

  Shiva patted the Emperor lightly on his back, smiling slightly. ‘I know, Your Highness.’

  Daksha stepped back and wiped his eyes. ‘Everything is all right. You, Lord Neelkanth, have purified all that went wrong with my family. Everything is all right once again.’

  Veerini stared at Daksha, her eyes narrowed, her breathing ragged. She gritted her teeth, but kept her silence.

  Bhagirath was walking back from the riverbank after checking on the progress of the ships being built by Divodas’ men. As it was late, he had sent his bodyguards home. After all, this was Kashi, the city where everyone sought refuge. The city of peace.

  The streets were deathly quiet. So silent that he clearly heard a soft crunch behind him.

  The Prince of Ayodhya continued walking, appearing nonchalant. His hand on the hilt of his blade, ears focussed. The soft tread was gaining ground. A sword was drawn softly. Bhagirath spun around suddenly, drew his knife and flung it, piercing his assailant through his stomach. The blow was enough to paralyse his attacker. He would be in excruciating pain, but not dead.

  Through the corner of his eye, Bhagirath saw another movement. He reached for his other knife. But the new threat crashed against a wall, a short sword buried in his chest. Dead.

  Bhagirath turned to see Nandi to the left. ‘Anyone else?’ he whispered.

  Nandi shook his head.

  Bhagirath rushed to the first assailant. Shaking him from the shoulders, Bhagirath asked, ‘Who sent you?’

  The assassin remained mute.

  Bhagirath twisted the knife in the man’s stomach.

  ‘Who?’

  The man’s mouth suddenly started frothing. The rat had eaten his poison. He died within seconds.

  ‘Dammit!’ said a frustrated Bhagirath.

  Nandi looked at the Prince of Ayodhya, alert for any new threat, sword drawn.

  Bhagirath shook his head and rose. ‘Thank you, Nandi. Lucky that you were around.’

  ‘It wasn’t luck, Your Highness,’ said Nandi softly. ‘The Neelkanth has asked me to follow you for the duration of your father’s visit. I honestly thought the Lord was over-reacting. No father would make an attempt on his child’s life. I guess I was wrong.’

  Bhagirath shook his head. ‘It’s not my father. At least not directly.’

  ‘Not directly? What do you mean?’

  ‘He doesn’t have the guts. But he makes it well–known that I am not in his favour. That obviously encourages rival claimants to the throne, people who travel in his court. All they have to do is take me out of the equation. Make it appear as if I died in an accident.’

  ‘This,’ said Nandi, pointing to the dead assassins, ‘wouldn’t look like an accident.’

  ‘I know. It just means that they’re getting desperate.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘My father’s health is not good. I think they feel that they don’t have time. If he dies while I am alive, I will be crowned king.’

  Nandi shook his head.

  Bhagirath patted Nandi. ‘I’m in your debt, my friend. Forever grateful. As long as I live.’

  Nandi smiled. ‘And you will live a long life, Your Highness. Nothing will happen to you as long as I am around. I will stand between you and any man who dares to attack you. And there is a lot of me to cover you with!’

  Bhagirath smiled at Nandi’s attempt at humour on his elephantine girth.

  ‘Did you get any names? Who sent them?’

  ‘I don’t know, My Lord,’ said Bhagirath. ‘They died before I could get any answers.’

  Shiva sighed. ‘The dead bodies?’

  ‘Handed over to the Kashi police,’ said Bhagirath. ‘But I don’t expect that they will be able to gather any leads.’

  ‘Hmm,’ said Shiva.

  ‘For the second time, I owe you my life, My Lord.’

  ‘You owe me nothing,’ said Shiva, before turning towards Nandi. ‘Thank you, my friend. It is you who deserves credit.’

  Nandi bowed low. ‘It’s my honour to serve you, My Lord.’

  Shiva turned back to Bhagirath. ‘What are you going to tell Anandmayi?’

  Bhagirath frowned. ‘Nothing. I don’t want her getting troubled unnecessarily. I am fine. There is no need for anyone to know.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because I am sure that father will not even try to investigate this attack. Other nobles will see this as a sign of his tacit acceptance of a more aggressive attack on me rather than difficult-to-organise “accidents”. Letting this news become public will only encourage rival claimants further.’

  ‘Are there so many nobles after you?’

  ‘Half the court is related to my father, My Lord. All of them think that they have a right to the throne.’

  Shiva breathed deeply. ‘Never stay alone while your father’s here. And you are coming with me on the voyage to Branga, far away from here.’

  Bhagirath nodded.

  Shiva patted Bhagirath on his shoulder. ‘Make sure that you don’t get yourself killed. You are important to me.’

  Bhagirath smiled. ‘I will try to remain alive for you, My Lord!’

  Shiva laughed softly. So did Nandi.

  ‘Your Highness, I don’t think it is wise for you to give away so much Somras powder,’ said Shiva.

  Shiva and Daksha were in Shiva’s quarters. It had been a week since Kartik’s birth. Sati and Kartik were sleeping in the next room, with Krittika and a bevy of nurses in close attendance. Shiva was shocked at the large amount of Somras powder Daksha had got with him as a present for Kartik. Daksha wanted Kartik to start taking the Somras from birth, every day, so that he would grow to be a strong, powerful warrior. He had got enough powder to last until Kartik’s eighteenth birthday!

  ‘My Lord,’ said Daksha, ‘it’s not fair for you to tell a doting grandfather what he can or cannot give his first grandchild.’

  ‘But My Lord, with the destruction of Mount Mandar, you must be running short on Somras supplies. I don’t think it is right for so much to be given to my son, when your entire country could use the blessings of the Somras.’

  ‘Let me worry about that, My Lord. Please don’t say no.’

  Shiva gave up. ‘How are the plans to rebuild Mount Mandar coming along?’

  ‘It’s taking too long,’ said Daksha, waving his hand dismissively. ‘Let’s forget about that. This is such a happy event. I have a grandchild. A whole, complete, handsome grandchild who will grow up to be the Emperor of India!’

  The citizens of Kashi customarily celebrated the birth of a child with music and dance after
exactly seven days of its birth. Shiva decided to honour the traditions of his hosts.

  The Neelkanth was sitting on a throne in the dance theatre. Next to him, on the throne meant for the Queen of Kashi, sat Sati, cradling a sleeping Kartik in her arms. Daksha and Dilipa had the seat of honoured guests next to Shiva and Sati. The royal family of Kashi sat beyond them. It was unorthodox for the King of the kingdom to occupy such a low place in the seating protocol. But Athithigva did not mind.

  Sati bent towards Shiva and whispered, ‘You danced marvellously. As always!’

  ‘You noticed?’ teased Shiva.

  Earlier in the evening, Shiva had insisted on opening the celebrations with his own performance. The audience could not believe their good fortune at seeing the Neelkanth himself dance. And they applauded his fabulous dancing skills with a five-minute long standing ovation. The dance was one of his best ever. And the audience was moved to raptures. But Shiva had noticed, much to his chagrin, that Sati was distracted during his performance. She had been troubled since the time Shiva had told her of the Somras powder brought by Daksha.

  ‘Of course, I did,’ smiled Sati. ‘I’m just troubled that father is giving away so much Somras. It’s not right. It is for all of Meluha. Kartik should not get any special treatment just because he is a royal. This is against Lord Ram’s principles.’

  ‘Then, speak to your father.’

  ‘I will. At the right time.’

  ‘Good. For now, however, look at Anandmayi when she dances. She may not be as forgiving as me.’

  Sati smiled and rested her head on Shiva’s shoulders as she turned to look at the stage just in time to see Anandmayi walk onto it. She was wearing a shockingly tiny dhoti and a tight blouse, leaving very little to the imagination. Sati raised her eyebrow and looked at Shiva. Shiva was smiling.

  ‘It’s the right costume for this dance,’ said Shiva.

  Sati nodded and turned towards the stage again. Shiva sidled a glance at Parvateshwar and smiled. The General’s face was an impenetrable mask. His Suryavanshi training had kicked in, but the man’s clenched jaw and tick near his brow betrayed that he was far from unmoved.