It was then that Parvateshwar heard the noise. Even in the commotion of the numerous Brangas howling in pain, the horrifying din could not be missed. It sounded like hundreds of babies were howling desperately, as if their lives depended on it.
Parvateshwar had heard rumours of ghastly ritual sacrifices that the Brangas committed. Fearing the worst, he ran towards the room where the sound emanated from. The General broke open the door with one kick. He was sickened by what he saw.
The limp body of the decapitated peacock was held at a corner of the room, its blood being drained into a vessel. Around it were many women, each holding a baby writhing in pain. Some babies had blood on their mouths. A horror-struck Parvateshwar dropped his club and reached for his sword. There was a sudden blur to his left. Before he could react, he felt a sharp pain on his head. The world went black.
Bhagirath screamed, drawing his sword, as did the Suryavanshis. He was about to run his sword through the man who had clubbed Parvateshwar when a woman screamed: ‘PLEASE DON’T!’
Bhagirath stopped. The woman was very obviously pregnant.
The Branga man was about to raise his club again. The woman screamed once more. ‘NO!’
To Bhagirath’s surprise, the man obeyed.
The other Branga women at the back were carrying on with their sickening ritual.
‘Stop!’ screamed Bhagirath.
The pregnant Branga woman fell at Bhagirath’s feet. ‘No, brave Prince. Don’t stop us. I beg you.’
‘High priestess, what are you doing?’ asked the Branga man. ‘Don’t humiliate yourself!’
Bhagirath looked at the scene once again, and this was when the real inference dawned on him. He was stunned. The only children crying were the ones who did not have blood on their mouths. Their limbs were twisted in painful agony, as if a hideous force was squeezing their tiny bodies. The moment some of the peacock blood was poured into a baby’s mouth, the child quietened down.
Bhagirath whispered in shock. ‘What the hell...’
‘Please,’ pleaded the Branga high priestess. ‘We need it for our babies. They will die without it. I beg you. Let us save them.’
Bhagirath stood silent. Bewildered.
‘Your Highness,’ said Veerbhadra. ‘The General.’
Bhagirath immediately bent down to check on Parvateshwar. His heart was beating, but the pulse was weak.
‘Suryavanshis, we need to carry the General to an ayuralay. Quickly! We don’t have much time!’
Bearing their leader along, the Suryavanshis rushed out. Parvateshwar had to be taken to a hospital.
Ayurvati came out of the operating room. Chandravanshi doctors simply did not have the knowledge to deal with Parvateshwar’s injury. Ayurvati had been sent urgent summons.
Shiva and Sati immediately rose. Sati’s heart sank on seeing the dejected look on Ayurvati’s face.
‘How soon will he be all right, Ayurvati?’ asked Shiva.
Ayurvati took a deep breath. ‘My Lord, the club hit the General at a most unfortunate spot, right on his temple. He is suffering severe internal haemorrhaging. The blood loss could be fatal.’
Shiva bit his lip.
‘I...,’ said Ayurvati.
‘If anyone can save him, it is you Ayurvati,’ said Shiva.
‘There is nothing in the medical manuals for such a severe injury, My Lord. We could do brain surgery, but that cannot be performed while the patient is unconscious. In the surgery, we apply local pain relievers to allow the conscious patient to guide us with his actions. Taking this risk while Parvateshwar is unconscious could prove more dangerous than the injury itself.’
Sati’s eyes were welling up.
‘We cannot allow this to happen, Ayurvati,’ said Shiva. ‘We cannot!’
‘I know, My Lord.’
‘Then think of something. You are Ayurvati, the best doctor in the world!’
‘I have only one solution in mind, My Lord,’ said Ayurvati. ‘But I don’t even know if it would work.’
‘The Somras?’ asked Shiva.
‘Do you agree?’
‘Yes. Let’s try it.’
Ayurvati rushed off to find her assistants.
Shiva turned towards Sati, worried. He knew how close Sati was to her Pitratulya. Her obvious misery would also impact their unborn child. ‘He’ll be all right. Trust me.’
‘Where is the damn Somras?’ asked an agitated Shiva.
‘I’m sorry, My Lord,’ said Athithigva. ‘But we don’t really have large quantities of the Somras. We don’t keep any at the ayuralay.’
‘It’s coming, My Lord,’ assured Ayurvati. ‘I have sent Mastrak to my quarters for some.’
Shiva snorted in frustration and turned towards Parvateshwar’s room. ‘Hang on, my friend. We will save you. Hang on.’
Mastrak came in panting, holding a small wooden bottle. ‘My lady!’
‘You’ve prepared it correctly?’
‘Yes, my lady.’
Ayurvati rushed into Parvateshwar’s room.
Parvateshwar was lying on a bed in the far corner. Mastrak and Dhruvini, Ayurvati’s assistants, sat at the bedside, rubbing the juice of neem leaves under his nails. There was a pumping apparatus attached to the General’s nose in order to ease his breathing.
‘The haemorrhaging has stopped, My Lord,’ said Ayurvati. ‘He is not getting worse.’
The vision of the apparatus attached to the General’s nose shook Shiva. To see a man such as Parvateshwar in this helpless state was too much for him. ‘Then why is that apparatus required?’
‘The bleeding has harmed the parts of his brain that control his breathing, My Lord,’ said Ayurvati, in the calm manner she always willed herself into when faced with a medical crisis. ‘Parvateshwar cannot breathe on his own. If we remove this apparatus, he will die.’
‘Then why can’t you repair his brain?’
‘I told you, My Lord, a brain surgery cannot be done while the patient is unconscious. It is too risky. I may injure some other vital function with my instruments.’
‘The Somras...’
‘It has stopped the bleeding, My Lord. He is stable. But it doesn’t appear to be healing his brain.’
‘What do we do?’
Ayurvati remained silent. She didn’t have an answer. At least an answer that was practical.
‘There must be a way.’
‘There is one remote possibility, My Lord,’ said Ayurvati. ‘The bark of the Sanjeevani tree. It is actually one of the ingredients in the Somras. A very diluted ingredient.’
‘Then why don’t we use that?’
‘It is very unstable. The bark disintegrates very rapidly. It has to be taken from a live Sanjeevani tree and used within minutes.’
‘Then find a...’
‘It doesn’t grow here, My Lord. It grows naturally in the foothills of the Himalayas. We have plantations in Meluha. But getting it could take months. By the time we return with the bark, it would have disintegrated.’
There has to be a way! Holy lake, please find me a way!
‘Your Highness,’ said Nandi, who had been promoted from the rank of Captain.
‘Yes, Major Nandi,’ said Bhagirath.
‘Can you come with me please?’
‘Where?’
‘It’s important, Your Highness.’
Bhagirath thought it was odd that Nandi wanted him to leave the ayuralay at a time when Parvateshwar was fighting for his life. But he knew that Nandi was the Neelkanth’s close friend. More importantly, he also knew that Nandi was a level-headed man. If he was asking him to go somewhere, it would be important.
Bhagirath followed.
Bhagirath could not hide his surprise as Nandi took him to the Branga building.
‘What is going on, Major?’
‘You must meet him,’ said Nandi.
‘Who?’
‘Me,’ said a tall, dark man stepping out of the structure. His long hair was neatly oiled and tied in a knot. His eyes we
re doe-shaped, his cheekbones high. He had a clear complexion. His lanky frame was draped in a white starched dhoti, with a cream angvastram thrown over his shoulder. His face bore the look of a man who had seen too much sadness for one lifetime.
‘Who are you?’
‘I am Divodas. The chief of the Brangas here.’
Bhagirath gritted his teeth. ‘The General saved all your sorry hides. And your men have brought him to the brink of death!’
‘I know, Your Highness. My men thought the General would have stopped us from saving our children. It was a genuine mistake. Our most sincere apologies.’
‘You think your apology is going to save his life?’
‘It will not. I know that. He has saved my entire tribe from a certain death. He has saved my wife and unborn child. It is a debt that must be repaid.’
The mention of payment made Bhagirath even more livid. ‘You think your filthy gold will get you out of this? Mark my words, if anything happens to the General, I will personally come here and kill every single one of you. Every single one!’
Divodas kept quiet. His face impassive.
‘Your Highness,’ said Nandi. ‘Let us hear him out.’
Bhagirath grunted in an irritated manner.
‘Gold means nothing, Your Highness,’ said Divodas. ‘We have tonnes of it back home. It still cannot buy us out of our suffering. Nothing is more important than life. Nothing. You realise the simplicity of that point only when you confront death every day.’
Bhagirath didn’t say anything.
‘General Parvateshwar is a brave and honourable man. For his sake, I will break the vow I took on the name of my ancestors. Even if it damns my soul forever.’
Bhagirath frowned.
‘I am not supposed to share this medicine with anyone who is not Branga. But I will give it to you for the General. Tell your doctor to apply it on his temple and nostrils. He will live.’
Bhagirath looked suspiciously at the small silk packet. ‘What is this?’
‘You don’t need to know what it is, Your Highness. You just need to know one thing. It will save General Parvateshwar’s life.’
‘What is this?’
Ayurvati was looking at the silk pouch Bhagirath had just handed over to her.
‘That doesn’t matter,’ said Bhagirath. ‘Just apply it on his temples and nostrils. It may save his life.’
Ayurvati frowned.
‘Lady Ayurvati, what is the harm in trying?’ asked Bhagirath.
Ayurvati opened the pouch to find a reddish-brown thick paste. She had never seen anything like it. She smelt the paste and immediately looked up at Bhagirath, stunned. ‘Where did you get this?’
‘That doesn’t matter. Use it.’
Ayurvati kept staring at Bhagirath. She had a hundred questions running through her mind. But she had to do the most obvious thing first. She knew this paste would save Parvateshwar.
Parvateshwar opened his eyes slowly, his breathing ragged.
‘My friend,’ whispered Shiva.
‘My Lord,’ whispered Parvateshwar, trying to get up.
‘No! Don’t!’ said Shiva, gently making Parvateshwar lie back. ‘You need to rest. You are strong-headed, but not that strong!’
Parvateshwar smiled wanly.
Shiva knew the question that would arise first in the General’s mind. ‘All the Brangas are safe. What you did was brilliant.’
‘I don’t know, My Lord. I will have to do penance. I have committed a sin.’
‘What you did saved lives. There is no need for any penance.’
Parvateshwar sighed. His head still throbbed immensely. ‘They had some ghastly ritual going on...’
‘Don’t think about it, my friend. Right now you need to relax. Ayurvati has ordered strictly that nobody is to disturb you. I will leave you alone. Try to catch some sleep.’
‘Anandmayi!’
Bhagirath tried to stop his sister. Anandmayi was rushing into the ayuralay chamber where Parvateshwar lay. She had been out of the city the whole day attending a music lesson at a nearby ashram. She ran into her brother’s arms.
‘Is he all right?’
‘Yes,’ said Bhagirath.
Anandmayi glowered. ‘Who is the bastard who did this? I hope you killed that dog!’
‘We will let Parvateshwar decide what to do.’
‘I heard he was hit on the temple. That there was blood haemorrhaging.’
‘Yes.’
‘Lord Agni be merciful. That can be fatal.’
‘Yes. But some medicines from the Brangas have saved him.’
‘Brangas? First they nearly kill him and then give medicines to save him? Is there no limit to their madness?’
‘The medicine was given by their leader, Divodas. He arrived in Kashi a few hours back and heard about this incident. He seems like a good man.’
Anandmayi was not interested in the Branga leader. ‘Has Parvateshwar woken up?’
‘Yes. The Lord Neelkanth just met him. He has gone back to sleep. He is out of danger. Don’t worry.’
Anandmayi nodded, her eyes moist.
‘And, by the way,’ said Bhagirath. ‘I’ve also recovered from my injuries.’
Anandmayi burst out laughing. ‘I’m sorry, my brother! I should have asked.’
Bhagirath made a dramatic pose. ‘Nobody can hurt your brother. He’s the greatest Chandravanshi warrior ever!’
‘Nobody hurt you because you must have been hiding behind Parvateshwar!’
Bhagirath burst out laughing and reached out playfully to chuff his sister. Anandmayi pulled her younger brother into her arms.
‘Go,’ said Bhagirath. ‘Looking at him may make you feel better.’
Anandmayi nodded. As she entered Parvateshwar’s room, Ayurvati emerged from another chamber. ‘Your Highness.’
‘Yes, Lady Ayurvati,’ said Bhagirath with a namaste.
‘The Lord Neelkanth and I would like to talk to you. Could you come with me?’
‘Of course.’
‘Where did you get the medicine from, Bhagirath?’ asked Shiva.
Bhagirath was surprised at Shiva’s tone. The Lord had always appeared kind. He now seemed cold. Angry.
‘What is the matter, My Lord?’ asked Bhagirath, worried.
‘Answer my question, Prince. Where did you get the medicine from?’
‘From the Brangas.’
Shiva stared hard into Bhagirath’s eyes. Bhagirath could gauge the Neelkanth was struggling to believe his words.
‘I’m not lying, My Lord,’ said Bhagirath. ‘And why would I? This medicine has saved the General’s life.’
Shiva continued to stare.
‘My Lord, what is the problem?’
‘The problem, Your Highness,’ said Ayurvati, ‘is that this medicine is not available in the Sapt Sindhu. I could tell that it was made from the bark of the Sanjeevani tree. But the problem with any Sanjeevani medicine is that it deteriorates rapidly. It cannot be used unless freshly taken from a live tree. This medicine was stabilised. It was a paste. We could use it.’
‘My apologies Lady Ayurvati, but I still do not understand the problem.’
‘There is only one element, the crushed wood of another specific tree, which is capable of mixing with the Sanjeevani and stabilising it. That tree does not grow in the Sapt Sindhu.’
Bhagirath frowned.
‘That tree only grows south of the Narmada river. In Naga territory.’
The prince of Ayodhya froze. He knew what the Neelkanth would be thinking. ‘My Lord, I have nothing to do with the Nagas. I got this medicine from the Branga leader Divodas. I swear on Ayodhya. I swear on my beloved sister. I have nothing to do with the Nagas.’
Shiva continued to stare at Bhagirath. ‘I want to meet Divodas.’
‘My Lord, I swear I have nothing to do with the Nagas.’
‘Get me Divodas within the next hour, Prince Bhagirath.’
Bhagirath’s heart was beating madly. ‘My Lord,
please believe me...’
‘We will talk about this later, Prince Bhagirath,’ said Shiva. ‘Please get Divodas.’
‘I believe King Athithigva has already arranged for Divodas to have an audience with you tomorrow morning, My Lord.’
Shiva stared at Bhagirath, eyes narrowing a bit.
‘I will arrange for Divodas to come here right away, My Lord,’ said Bhagirath, rushing from the room.
Anandmayi sat silently on a chair next to Parvateshwar’s bed. The General was asleep, breathing slowly. The Princess ran her fingers slowly down Parvateshwar’s powerful shoulder, arm and all the way to his fingers. The General’s body seemed to shiver a bit.
Anandmayi laughed softly. ‘For all your vows, you are a man after all!’
As if driven by instinct, Parvateshwar withdrew his hand. He blabbered something in his sleep. The voice not clear enough to reach Anandmayi’s ears. She leaned forward.
‘I’ll never break my vow... father. That is my... Dashrath promise. I will never break... my vow.’
A Dashrath promise, named after a vow that Lord Ram’s father had once taken, was an open-ended word of honour that could never be broken. Anandmayi shook her head and sighed. Parvateshwar was repeating his vow of brahmacharya, or eternal celibacy, once again.
‘I’ll never break... my vow.’
Anandmayi smiled. ‘We’ll see.’
‘My Lord,’ said Divodas, immediately bending to touch the Neelkanth’s feet.
‘Ayushman bhav, Divodas,’ said Shiva, blessing the man with a long life.
‘Such an honour to meet you, My Lord. The dark days are over. You will solve all our problems. We can go home.’
‘Go home? You still want to go back?’
‘Branga is my soul, My Lord. I would never have left my homeland if it weren’t for the plague.’
Shiva frowned, before coming to the point that concerned him. ‘You are a good man, Divodas. You saved my friend’s life. Even at your own cost.’
‘It was a matter of honour, My Lord. I know all that happened. General Parvateshwar saved my tribe from certain death. We had to return the favour. And there was no cost to me.’