But Shiva was frenzied, screaming, racing quickly towards Parshuram, his sword high, ready to behead the bandit.
Parshuram continued to stare blankly, not a hint of fear on his face. And then he shut his eyes and shouted the words he wanted to die with. ‘Jai Guru Vishwamitra! Jai Guru Vashisht!’
A stunned Shiva stopped in his tracks. Paralysed.
Not feeling the sword strike on his neck, Parshuram opened his eyes and stared at Shiva, confused.
The sword slipped from Shiva’s hands. ‘Vasudev?’
Parshuram looked as shocked as Shiva. He finally got a good look at Shiva’s throat, deliberately covered by a cravat. Realisation dawned. ‘Oh Lord! What have I done? Neelkanth! Lord Neelkanth!’
Parshuram brought his head down towards Shiva’s feet, tears flooding his eyes. ‘Forgive me, Lord. Forgive me. I didn’t know it was you.’
Shiva just stood there. Paralysed.
A half-asleep Sati heard the throaty roars. She immediately became alert.
They’re here.
She turned towards the doorway. The fire was burning strong. Two soldiers were sitting guard.
‘Kaavas, they’re here. Wake everyone up.’
Sati crept up to the terrace railing. She couldn’t see any lion as yet. The moon had a bit of strength tonight. She wasn’t dependant only on the fire.
Then she saw the liger emerge from the tree line. The arrow Sati had shot was still buried in his shoulder, its shaft broken. It made him drag his front foot marginally.
‘There’s another male lion,’ whispered Kaavas, pointing.
Sati nodded. She drew her bow forward. But before she could shoot, the sight in front of her stunned her.
Numerous lionesses were pouring out from behind the liger. The pride was far larger than the seven animals she had assumed there would be. She continued to watch in horror as more and more animals emerged. One lioness after another, till there were nearly thirty of them on display.
Lord Ram be merciful!
After the attack the previous night, the liger had brought his whole army to combat the threat. And it was a massive pride.
This explains the three male lions. The liger has actually taken over and merged three prides into one.
Sati slunk back and turned around. She couldn’t shoot so many lionesses. She looked around her. There was pure terror in the eyes of the Kashi soldiers.
She pointed to the doorway. ‘Two more men there. And more wood into the fire.’
The Kashi soldiers rushed to obey. Sati’s brain was whirring, but no idea struck her. That’s when she heard it.
She immediately turned around and crept to the railing, hearing the sound clearer. Two children were crying. Howling desperately for their lives.
Sati opened her eyes wide in panic.
Please... No...
The village cleaner and his wife were walking determinedly towards the lions. They wore saffron, to signify their sacrifice, their final journey. The children, naked to the elements, were held one each by their parents. They were bawling frantically.
The liger turned towards the couple and growled.
Sati drew her sword. ‘Noooo!’
‘No, My lady!’ screamed Kaavas.
But Sati had already jumped over onto the ground. She charged towards the lions, sword held high.
The lions turned towards her, surprised, forgetting about the cleaner and his family. Then the liger registered Sati. He roared loudly. And, his pride charged.
The Kashi soldiers jumped onto the ground after Sati, inspired by the sheer bravery displayed by their leader. But inspiration is no substitute for skill.
Sati swung as she neared a massive lioness, turning smoothly with the movement, slicing through the nose and eye of the beast. As the lioness retreated, howling, Sati turned in the same smooth motion to attack a lion in front of her. Another lioness charged her from the right. A brave Kashi soldier jumped in front. The lioness grabbed the unfortunate soldier from his throat, shaking him like a rag doll. The soldier, however, had managed to lodge his sword deep into the lioness’ chest. As he died, so did the lioness. Kaavas was frantically battling a lioness that had sunk her teeth into his leg, gouging his flesh. He was swinging down with his sword, hitting her on her shoulder again and again with ineffective strikes.
The Kashi men were fighting desperately. Bravely. But it was clearly a matter of time before they would be overwhelmed. They didn’t have the training or the skill to battle this well coordinated pride. Sati knew it was but a matter of time before they would succumb.
Lord Ram, let me die with honour!
Then, a resounding yell rose above the mayhem. A hundred soldiers broke through the tree-line, rushing into the melee. One of them was blowing a conch shell. The fierce call of a Naga attack!
A stunned Sati continued fighting the lioness in front of her, but her thoughts were distracted, wondering why these soldiers had come to the village, to their aid.
The tide of the battle turned immediately. The new soldiers, clearly more skilled than their Kashi counterparts, charged at the lions viciously.
Sati killed the lioness in front of her and turned to see numerous lion carcasses around her. She perceived a movement to her left. The liger had sprung high at her. From nowhere, a massive hooded figure emerged. He caught hold of the liger and flung the animal off. The liger’s claws struck at the hooded figure, tearing deep through his shoulder. As the liger regained balance and swung to face this new threat, the hooded figure stood protectively in front of Sati, his sword drawn.
Sati looked at the back of her fearless protector.
Who is this man?
The hooded figure charged at the liger. Just then another lioness charged at Sati. She bent low and struck her sword up brutally through the lioness’ chest, deep into the beast’s heart. The lioness fell on Sati, dead. She tried to push the lioness off, her head turned to the right. She could see the hooded figure battling the gargantuan liger on his own. Then she screamed, ‘Watch out!’
Another lioness charged from the right towards the hooded figure, grabbing his leg viciously. The hooded figure fell but not before stabbing deep through the eyes of the lioness mauling his leg. The liger jumped once again on the hooded figure.
‘No!’ screamed Sati, desperately trying to push the lioness off her.
Then she saw various soldiers rushing at the liger, swinging their swords at the same time. The liger, overwhelmed, turned and ran. Only three of the pride of thirty beasts were able to escape. The rest lay on the village grounds, dead. Along with them were the bodies of ten brave Kashi soldiers.
A soldier came to assist Sati, pushing the lioness’ carcass off her. She immediately got up and ran towards the hooded figure, who was being helped to his feet.
Then she stopped. Stunned.
The hooded figure’s mask had slipped off.
Naga!
The Naga’s forehead was ridiculously broad, his eyes placed on the side, almost facing different directions. His nose was abnormally long, stretching out like the trunk of an elephant. Two buck teeth struck out of the mouth, one of them broken. The legacy of an old injury, perhaps. The ears were floppy and large, shaking of their own accord. It almost seemed like the head of an elephant had been placed on the body of this unfortunate soul.
The Naga was standing with his fists clenched tight, fingers boring into his palms. He had dreamt of this moment for ages. Emotions were raging through his soul. Anger. Betrayal. Fear. Love.
‘Ugly, aren’t I?’ whispered the Naga, his eyes wet, teeth gritted.
‘What? No!’ cried Sati, controlling her shock at seeing a Naga. How could she insult the man who had saved her life? ‘I’m sorry. It’s just that I...’
‘Is that why you abandoned me?’ whispered the Naga, ignoring what Sati had said. His body was shaking, his fists clenched tight.
‘What?’
‘Is that why you abandoned me?’ Soft tears were rolling down the Naga’
s cheeks. ‘Because you couldn’t even bear to look at me?’
Sati stared at the Naga, confused. ‘Who are you?’
‘Stop playing innocent, you daddy’s spoilt little girl!’ shrieked a strong feminine voice from behind.
Sati turned and gasped.
Standing a little to her left was the Naga Queen. Her entire torso had an exoskeleton covering it, hard as bone. There were small balls of bone which ran from her shoulders down to her stomach, almost like a garland of skulls. On top of her shoulders were two small extra appendages, serving as a third and fourth arm. One was holding a knife, clearly itching to fling it at Sati. But it was the face that disturbed Sati the most. The colour was jet black, but the Naga Queen’s face was almost an exact replica of Sati’s.
‘Who are you people?’ asked a stunned Sati.
‘Let me put this phony out of her misery, my child.’ The Naga Queen’s hand holding the knife was shaking. ‘She will never acknowledge the truth. She is just like her treacherous father!’
‘No, Mausi.’
Sati turned to the Naga again, before returning her gaze to the Naga Queen. ‘Who are you?’
‘Bullshit! You expect me to believe that you don’t know?!’
Sati continued to stare at the Naga Queen, confused.
‘Mausi...,’ whispered the Naga. He was on his knees, crying desperately.
‘My child!’ cried the Naga Queen as she sprinted towards him. She tried to hand him her knife. ‘Kill her! Kill her! That is the only way to find peace!’
The Naga was trembling, shaking his head, tears streaking down his face. Vishwadyumna and the Brangas were holding the Kashi soldiers at a distance.
Sati asked once again. ‘Who are you people?’
‘I’ve had enough of this!’ screamed the Naga Queen, raising the knife.
‘No Mausi,’ whispered the Naga through his tears. ‘She doesn’t know. She doesn’t know.’
Sati stared at the Naga Queen. ‘I swear I don’t know. Who are you?’
The Naga Queen shut her eyes, took a deep breath and spoke with all the sarcasm at her command. ‘Then listen, oh exalted Princess. I am your twin sister, Kali. The one whom your two-faced father abandoned!’
Sati stared at Kali, mouth half-open, too shocked to react.
I have a sister?
‘And this sad soul,’ said Kali, pointing at the Lord of the People, ‘is the son you abandoned, Ganesh.’
Sati gasped in shock.
My son is alive?
She stared at Ganesh.
My son!
Angry tears were flooding down Ganesh’s face. His body was shaking with misery.
My son...
Sati’s heart was crying in pain.
But... but father said my son was stillborn.
She continued to stare.
I was lied to.
Sati held her breath. She stared at her twin sister. An exact replica of her. A visible proof of the relationship. She turned to Ganesh.
‘My son is alive?’
Ganesh looked up, tears still rolling down his eyes.
‘My son is alive,’ whispered Sati, tears spilling from her eyes.
Sati stumbled towards the kneeling Ganesh. She went down on her knees, holding his face. ‘My son is alive...’
She cradled his head. ‘I didn’t know, my child. I swear. I didn’t know.’
Ganesh didn’t raise his arms.
‘My child,’ whispered Sati, pulling Ganesh’s head down, kissing his forehead, holding him tight. ‘I’ll never let you go. Never.’
Ganesh’s tears broke out in a stronger flood. He wrapped his arms around his mother and whispered that most magical of words. ‘Maa...’
Sati started crying again. ‘My son. My son.’
Ganesh cried like the sheltered little child he had always wanted to be. He was safe. Safe at last. Safe in his loving mother’s arms.
Parshuram was biding time.
The water holds of the Branga ship had been destroyed when it grounded. The Suryavanshis had no choice but to drink the Madhumati water. Divodas had insisted the water be boiled first. But Parshuram knew that people drinking Madhumati water for the first time would be knocked out for a few hours if they didn’t have the antidote beforehand.
He waited patiently for the water to take effect. He had a task to carry out.
As the camp slept, Parshuram set to work. He found the weak link in his chain and banged it lightly with a stone till it broke. His lieutenant next to him expected to be set free. But Parshuram hammered the chain back into the stake.
‘Nobody escapes. Is that clear? Anyone who dares to will be hunted down by me.’
The lieutenant frowned, thoroughly confused, but did not dare question his fearsome chieftain. Parshuram turned towards the kitchen area of the beach. His battleaxe gleamed in the moonlight. He knew what he had to do.
It had to be done. He had no choice.
Chapter 16
Opposites Attract
The fire was raging.
Shiva had never seen flames so high near the Mansarovar Lake. The howling winds, the open space, the might of the Gunas, his tribe, simply didn’t allow any fire to last too long.
He looked around. His village was deserted. Not a soul in sight. The flames were licking at the walls of his hamlet.
He turned towards the lake. ‘Holy Lake, where are my people? Have the Pakratis taken them hostage?’
‘S-H-I-V-A! HELP ME!’
Shiva turned around to find a bloodied Brahaspati racing out of the village gates, through the massive inferno. He was being followed by a giant hooded figure, his sword drawn, his gait menacing in its extreme control.
Shiva pulled Brahaspati behind him, drew his sword and waited for the hooded Naga to come closer. When within shouting distance, Shiva screamed, ‘You will never get him. Not as long as I live!’
The Naga’s mask seemed to develop a life of its own. It smirked. ‘I’ve already got him.’
Shiva spun around. There were three massive snakes behind him. One was dragging Brahaspati’s limp body away, punctured by numerous massive bites. The other two stood guard, spewing fire from their mouths, preventing Shiva from moving closer. Shiva watched in helpless rage as they dragged Brahaspati towards the Naga. A furious Shiva turned towards the Naga.
‘Lord Rudra be merciful!’ whispered Shiva.
A severely bleeding Drapaku was kneeling next to the Naga. Defeated, forlorn, waiting to be killed.
Next to Drapaku, down on her knees was a woman. Streaks of blood ran down her arms. Her billowing hair covered her downcast face. And then the wind cleared. She looked up.
It was her. The woman he couldn’t save. The woman he hadn’t saved. The woman he hadn’t even attempted to save. ‘HELP! PLEASE HELP ME!’
‘Don’t you dare!’ screamed Shiva, pointing menacingly at the Naga.
The Naga calmly raised his sword and without a second’s hesitation, beheaded the woman.
Shiva woke up in cold sweat, his brow burning again. He looked around the darkness of his small tent, hearing the soft sounds of the Madhumati lapping the shores. He looked at his hand, the serpent Aum bracelet was in it. He cursed out loud, threw the bracelet onto the ground and lay back on the bed. His head felt heavy. Very heavy.
The Madhumati flowed quietly that night. Parshuram looked up. The moonlight gave just enough visibility for him to do his task.
He checked the temperature on the flat griddle heating up on the small fire. Scalding. It had to be. The flesh would have to be seared shut quickly. Otherwise the bleeding would not stop. He went back to sharpening the axe.
He tested the sharpness of the blade once again. Razor sharp. It would afford a clean strike. He looked back. There was nobody there.
He threw away his cloak and took a deep breath.
‘Lord Rudra, give me strength.’
He curled up his left hand. The sinning hand that had dared to murder the Neelkanth’s favourite. He held the
outcrop of a tree stump. Held it tight. Giving himself purchase to pull his shoulder back.
The trunk had been used earlier to behead many of his enemies. The blood of those unfortunate victims had left deep red marks on the wood. Now his blood would mix with theirs.
He reached out with his right hand and picked up the battleaxe, raising it high.
Parshuram looked up one last time and took a deep breath. ‘Forgive me, My Lord.’
The battleaxe hummed through the air as it swung down sharply. It sliced through perfectly, cutting the hand clean.
‘How in the name of the holy lake did he escape?’ shouted Shiva. ‘What were you doing?’
Parvateshwar and Bhagirath were looking down. The Lord had justifiable reasons to be angry. They were in his tent. It was the last hour of the first prahar. The sun had just risen. And with that had come to light Parshuram’s disappearance.
Shiva was distracted by commotion outside. He rushed out to find Divodas and a few other soldiers pointing their sword at Parshuram. He was staggering towards Shiva, staring at him. Nobody else.
Shiva held his left hand out, telling his men to let Parshuram through. For some reason, he didn’t feel the need to reach for his sword. Parshuram had his cloak wrapped tightly around himself. Bhagirath stepped up to check Parshuram for weapons. But Shiva called out loudly. ‘It’s alright, Bhagirath. Let him come.’
Parshuram stumbled towards Shiva, obviously weak, eyes drooping. There was a massive blood stain on his cloak. Shiva narrowed his eyes.
Parshuram collapsed on his knees in front of Shiva.
‘Where had you gone?’
Parshuram looked up, his eyes melancholic. ‘I... penance... My Lord...’
Shiva frowned.
The bandit dropped his cloak and with his right hand, placed his severed left one at Shiva’s feet. ‘This hand... sinned... My Lord. Forgive me...’
Shiva gasped in horror.
Parshuram collapsed. Unconscious.
Ayurvati had tended to Parshuram’s wound. She had cauterised it once again in order to prevent any chance of infection. Juice of neem leaves had been rubbed into the open flesh. A dressing of neem leaves had been created and wound tight around the severed arm.