The Oath of the Vayuputras

  Parvateshwar spoke softly, ‘Shreyaan sva dharmo vigunaha para dharmaat svanushthitat.’

  Ayurvati smiled ruefully as she recalled the old Sanskrit shloka, a couplet attributed to Lord Hari, after whom the city of Hariyupa had been named. It meant that it was better to commit mistakes on the path that one’s soul is meant to walk on, than to live a perfect life on a path that is not meant for one’s soul. Discharge one’s own swadharma, personal law, even if tinged with faults, rather than attempt to live a life meant for another.

  Ayurvati shook her head. ‘How can you be sure that this is your duty? Should you just be true to the role the world has foisted upon you? Aren’t you blindly obeying what society is forcing you to do?’

  ‘Lord Hari also said that those who allow others to dictate their own duties are not living their own life. They are, in fact, living someone else’s life.’

  ‘But that is exactly what you are doing. You are allowing others to dictate your duties. You are allowing Meluha to dictate the purpose of your soul.’

  ‘No, I am not.’

  ‘Yes, you are. Your heart is with Lord Shiva. Can you deny that?’

  ‘No, I can’t. My heart is with the Neelkanth.’

  ‘Then how do you know that protecting Meluha is your duty?’

  ‘Because I know,’ said Parvateshwar firmly. ‘I just know that this is my duty. Isn’t that what Lord Hari had said? Nobody in the world, not even God, can tell us what our duty is. Only our soul can. All we have to do is surrender to the language of silence and listen to the whisper of our soul. My soul’s whisper is very clear. Meluha is my faith; protecting my motherland is my duty.’

  Ayurvati ran her hand over her bald pate, touching her choti, the knot of hair signifying Brahmin antecedents. She turned to look at Anandmayi and Bhagirath in the distance. She knew that there was nothing more to be said.

  ‘You will be on the losing side, Parvateshwar,’ said Ayurvati.

  ‘I know.’

  ‘And you will be killed.’

  ‘I know. But if that is my purpose, then so be it.’

  Ayurvati shook her head and touched Parvateshwar’s shoulder compassionately.

  Parvateshwar smiled wanly. ‘It will be a glorious death. I shall die at the hands of the Neelkanth.’

  Chapter 10

  His Name Alone Strikes Fear

  Reclining in an easy chair, his legs outstretched on a low table, Shiva, along with Sati, contemplated the Ujjain temple from their chamber balcony. Ganesh leaned against the doorway, while Kartik had balanced himself on the railing. Shiva had just related to his family his entire conversation with the Vasudevs, including the identity of their real enemy.

  The Neelkanth looked up at the evening sky before turning towards Sati. ‘Say something.’

  ‘What can I say?’ asked Sati. ‘Lord Bhrigu... Lord Ram, be merciful...’

  ‘He can’t be all that powerful.’

  Sati looked up at Shiva. ‘He is one of the Saptrishi Uttradhikaris. His spiritual and scientific powers are legendary. But it is not the fear of his powers which has shaken me. It is the fact that a man of his strength of character has chosen to oppose us.’

  ‘Why would you say that?’

  ‘He is singularly unselfish and a man of unimpeachable moral integrity.’

  ‘And yet, he sent five ships to eliminate us.’

  ‘Yes. He must truly believe that the Somras is Good, and we are Evil to try to stop its usage. If he is convinced of it, could it be possible that we are wrong?’

  Kartik was about to interject when Shiva raised his hand.

  ‘No,’ said Shiva. ‘I am sure. The Somras is Evil and it has to be stopped There is no turning back.’

  ‘But Lord Bhrigu...’ said Sati.

  ‘Sati, why would a man of such immense moral character use the daivi astras, which we all know have been banned by Lord Rudra himself?’

  Sati looked at Shiva silently.

  ‘Lord Bhrigu’s attachment to the Somras has made him do this,’ said Shiva. ‘He thinks he is doing it for the greater good. But, in truth, he has become attached to the Somras. It is attachment that makes people forget not only their moral duties but even who they really are.’

  Kartik finally spoke up. ‘Baba is right. And if this is what the Somras can do to a man of Lord Bhrigu’s stature, then it surely must be Evil.’

  Shiva nodded before turning back to Sati. ‘What we are doing is right. The Somras must be stopped.’

  Sati didn’t say anything.

  ‘We need to concentrate our minds on the impending war,’ said Shiva. ‘They admittedly have a leader of the calibre of Lord Bhrigu, along with the armies of Meluha and Ayodhya. The odds are stacked against us. How do we remedy this?’

  ‘Divide their capabilities,’ said Kartik.

  ‘Go on.’

  Kartik went into his bedchamber and returned with a map. ‘Baba, would you please...’

  As Shiva lifted his feet off the table, Kartik laid out the map and looked at Ganesh before speaking. ‘Dada and I agreed that their strength lies in the technological wizardry of Meluha coupled with the sheer numbers of Ayodhya. If we can divide that, it would even out the odds.’

  ‘By ensuring that Meluha and Ayodhya joined hands and conspired to assassinate us at Panchavati, Lord Bhrigu has played his cards well. When they realise that I’m alive, they will be compelled to treat me as a common foe and hence ally with each other. After all, an enemy’s enemy is a friend.’

  Kartik smiled. ‘I wasn’t talking about breaking their alliance, baba, but dividing their capabilities.’

  Sati, who had been studying the map all this while, was struck by the obvious. ‘Magadh!’

  ‘Exactly,’ said Kartik as he tapped on the location of Magadh. ‘The roads in Swadweep are either pathetic or non-existent. That is why the armies, especially the big ones, use rivers to mobilise. The Ayodhyan army will not come to Meluha’s aid by cutting through dense forests. They will sail down the Sarayu in ships, then up the Ganga to the newly built pathway to Devagiri that Meluha has constructed.’

  Shiva nodded. ‘The Ayodhyan ships would have to pass Magadh, at the confluence of the Sarayu and Ganga rivers. If Magadh blockades that river, the ships will not be able to pass through. We can hold back their massive army with only a small naval force from Magadh.’

  ‘Right,’ said Kartik.

  A smiling Shiva patted Kartik on his shoulder, ‘I’m impressed, my boy.’

  Kartik smiled at his father.

  Sati looked at Shiva. ‘We must first rally Prince Surapadman to our side. Bhagirath had told me it’s the Magadhan prince who makes all the decisions and not his father King Mahendra.’

  Shiva concurred before turning towards Ganesh.

  Ganesh remained silent. He seemed a little unsettled by this new development.

  ‘That is a good idea,’ said Gopal.

  Shiva, Sati, Ganesh and Kartik were with Gopal at the Vishnu temple.

  ‘It should be relatively easy to bring Magadh to our side,’ continued Gopal. ‘King Mahendra is old and indecisive but his son, Surapadman, is a fearsome warrior and a brilliant tactician. And most importantly, he is a calculating and ambitious man.’

  ‘His ambition should make him smell the opportunities in the coming war,’ said Shiva. ‘He can use it to bolster his position and declare independence from Ayodhya.’

  ‘Exactly,’ said Sati. ‘Whatever may be the reason behind his choosing to back us, an alliance with him will help us win the war.’

  Gopal suddenly noticed a pensive Ganesh. ‘Lord Ganesh?’

  Ganesh reacted with a start.

  ‘Does something about this plan trouble you?’ asked Gopal.

  Ganesh shook his head. ‘Nothing that needs to be mentioned at this point of time, Panditji.’

  Ganesh was worried that he had inadvertently ruined any likelihood of an alliance with Magadh, for he had killed the elder Magadhan prince, Ugrasen. He had done so while trying t
o save an innocent mother and her son from Ugrasen. He hoped Surapadman was not aware of his identity.

  ‘Dada and I have discussed this,’ said Kartik. ‘And we believe we should not assume Magadh will come to our side. We should also be prepared to conquer Magadh, if need be.’

  ‘Well, hopefully that situation will not arise,’ said Shiva, turning towards Ganesh. ‘But yes, we should make contingent plans to fight Magadh. It could be one of our opening gambits in the war.’

  ‘Then I shall start making plans for our departure to Magadh,’ said Gopal.

  ‘Are you going to come with us, Panditji?’ asked a surprised Shiva. ‘That would reveal your allegiance openly.’

  ‘There was a time to remain hidden, my friend,’ said Gopal. ‘But now we need to come out in the open, for the battle with Evil is upon us. We have to pick our side openly. There are no bystanders in a holy war.’

  Parvateshwar and Anandmayi rode their favourite steeds, whispering to each other. He had leaned a bit to his right, holding Anandmayi’s hand. He had just told her that if it came to a war, he would have no choice but to fight on the side of Meluha. Anandmayi, in turn, had told Parvateshwar that she would have no choice but to oppose Meluha.

  ‘Aren’t you even going to ask me why?’ asked Anandmayi.

  Parvateshwar shook his head. ‘I don’t need to. I know how you think.’

  Anandmayi looked at her husband, her eyes moist.

  ‘And I guess you know how I think,’ said Parvateshwar. ‘For you didn’t ask me either.’

  Anandmayi smiled sadly at Parvateshwar, squeezing his hand.

  ‘What do we do now?’ asked Parvateshwar.

  Anandmayi took a deep breath. ‘Keep riding together.’

  Parvateshwar stared at his wife.

  ‘Till our paths allow us...’

  Shiva leaned against the balustrade of the ship as it sailed gently down the Chambal. Beyond the banks, he could see dense forests. There was no sign of human habitation for miles in any direction. He looked back at the five ships following them, a small part of the fifty-ship Vasudev fleet. It had taken the Vasudevs a mere two months to mobilise for departure.

  ‘What are you thinking, my friend?’ asked Gopal.

  Shiva turned to the chief Vasudev. ‘I was thinking that the primary source of Evil is human greed. It’s our greed to extract more and more from Good that turns it into Evil. Wouldn’t it be better if this was controlled at the source itself? Can we really expect humans to not be greedy? How many of us would be willing to control our desire to live for two hundred years? The dominance of the Somras over many thousands of years has admittedly done both Good and Evil, but it will soon perish for all practical purposes. Isn’t it fair to say then that it has served no purpose in the larger scheme of things? Perhaps it would have been better had the Somras not been invented. Why embark on a journey when you know that the destination takes you back to exactly where you began?’

  ‘Are there any journeys which do not take you back to where you began?’

  Shiva frowned. ‘Of course there are.’

  Gopal shook his head. ‘If you aren’t back to where you began, all it means is that the journey isn’t over. Maybe it will take one lifetime. Maybe many. But you will end your journey exactly where you began. That is the nature of life. Even the universe will end its journey exactly where it began – in an infinitesimal black hole of absolute death. And on the other side of that death, life will begin once again in a massive big bang. And so it will continue in a never-ending cycle.’

  ‘So what’s the point of it all?’

  ‘But that is the biggest folly, great Neelkanth; to think that we are on this path in order to get somewhere.’

  ‘Aren’t we?’

  ‘No. The purpose is not the destination but the journey itself. Only those who understand this simple truth can experience true happiness.’

  ‘So are you saying that the destination, even purpose, does not matter? That the Somras had to just experience all this; to create so much Good for millennia and then to descend into creating Evil in equal measure. And then to have a Neelkanth rise who would end its journey. If one believes this, then in the larger scheme of things, the Somras has achieved nothing.’

  ‘Let me try to put it another way. I’m sure you’re aware of how it rains in India, right?’

  ‘Of course I am. One of your scientists had explained it to me. I believe the sun heats the waters of the sea, making it rise in the form of gas. Large masses of this water vapour coalesce into clouds, which are then blown over land by monsoon winds. These clouds rise when they hit the mountains, thus precipitating as rain.’

  ‘Perfect. But you have only covered half the journey. What happens after the water has rained upon us?’

  Shiva’s knowing smile suggested that he was beginning to follow.

  Gopal continued. ‘The water finds its way into streams and then rivers. And finally, the river flows back into the sea. Some of the water that comes as rain is used by humans, animals, plants – anything that needs to stay alive. But ultimately, even the water used by us escapes into the rivers and then back into the sea. The journey always ends exactly where it began. Now, can we say that the journey of the water serves no purpose? What would happen to us if the sea felt that there is no point to this journey since it ends exactly where it begins?’

  ‘We would all die.’

  ‘Exactly. Now, one may be tempted to think that this journey of water results in only Good, right? Whereas the Somras has caused both Good and Evil.’

  ‘But of course,’ Shiva smiled wryly, ‘you would disabuse me of any such notion!’

  Gopal’s smile was equally dry. ‘What about the floods caused by rains? What about the spread of disease that comes with the rains? If we were to ask those who have suffered from floods and disease, they may hold that rain is evil.’

  ‘Excessive rains are evil,’ corrected Shiva.

  Gopal smiled and conceded. ‘True. So the journey of water from the sea back into the sea serves a purpose as it makes the journey of life possible on land. Similarly, the journey of the Somras served a purpose for many, including you. For your purpose is to end the journey of the Somras. What would you do if the Somras hadn’t existed?’

  ‘I can think of so many things! Lazing around with Sati for example. Or whiling away my time immersed in dance and music. That would be a good life...’

  Gopal laughed softly. ‘But seriously, hasn’t the Somras given purpose to your life?’

  Shiva smiled. ‘Yes it has.’

  ‘And your journey has given purpose to my life. For what is the point of being a chief Vasudev if I can’t help the next Mahadev?’

  Shiva smiled and patted Gopal on his back.

  ‘Rather than the destination it is the journey that lends meaning to our lives, great Neelkanth. Being faithful to our path will lead to consequences, both good as well as evil. For that is the way of the universe.’

  ‘For instance, my journey may have a positive effect on the future of India. But it will certainly be negative for those who are addicted to the Somras. Perhaps that is my purpose.’

  ‘Exactly. Lord Vasudev had held we should be under no illusion that we are in control of our own breathing. We should realise the simple truth that we are “being breathed”; we are being kept alive because our journey serves a purpose. When our purpose is served, our breathing will stop and the universe will change our form to something else, so that we may serve another purpose.’

  Shiva smiled.

  Chapter 11

  The Branga Alliance

  Parvateshwar’s entourage had sailed up the Madhumati to the point where it broke off from the mighty Branga River. There they had dropped anchor as they waited for Bhagirath’s return. Bhagirath’s ship had turned east and sailed down the main distributary of the Branga, the massive Padma. A week later his ship docked at the port of Brangaridai, the capital city of the Branga kingdom.

  King Chandraketu h
ad been informed of Bhagirath’s arrival. The King of Branga had ensured that the Prince of Ayodhya was escorted with due honour to his palace. As Bhagirath was led into the private palace rather than the formal court, he acknowledged that Chandraketu was not treating him as the crown prince of Swadweep, but as a friend.

  Bhagirath found Chandraketu waiting at the palace door along with his wife and daughter. The King of Branga folded his hands in a formal Namaste. ‘How are you doing, brave Prince of Ayodhya?’

  Bhagirath smiled and bowed his head as he returned the Namaste. ‘I’m doing well, Your Highness.’

  Chandraketu looked at his consort with a fond smile. ‘Prince Bhagirath, this is my wife Queen Sneha.’

  Bhagirath bowed towards Sneha. ‘Greetings, Your Highness.’

  A chivalrous Bhagirath then went down on one knee to face the six-year-old girl who looked at him with twinkling eyes. ‘And who might this lovely lady be?’

  Chandraketu smiled. ‘That is my daughter, Princess Navya.’

  ‘Namaste, young lady,’ said Bhagirath.

  Navya slid behind her mother, hiding her face.

  Bhagirath smiled broadly. ‘I am a friend of your father, my child. You don’t have to be afraid of me.’

  ‘You smell funny...’ whispered Navya, sticking her face out.

  A startled Bhagirath burst into laughter.

  Chandraketu folded his hands together. ‘My apologies, Prince Bhagirath. She can be a little direct sometimes.’

  Bhagirath controlled his mirth. ‘No. No. She’s speaking the truth.’ He turned to Navya. ‘But young lady, I was always taught to be polite to strangers. Don’t you think that’s important as well?’

  ‘Politeness does not mean lying,’ said Navya. ‘Lord Ram had said we should always speak the truth. Always.’

  Bhagirath raised his eyebrows in surprise before turning to Chandraketu. ‘Wow. Quoting Lord Ram at this age? She’s smart.’

  ‘Well, she is very intelligent,’ said an obviously proud Chandraketu.

  Bhagirath turned fondly towards Navya. ‘Of course you’re right, my child. I carry the odour of a long and rigorous voyage. I will make sure I bathe before I meet you next. You will not find my smell offensive the next time, I wager.’