The Oath of the Vayuputras

  ‘Anandmayi, nobody is going to...’

  She turned and strode away stiffly, causing Bhagirath to trail off mid-sentence. She pushed aside the diminutive Kashi soldier standing in her path and slammed the door behind her even as the soldier fell.

  Ayurvati placed a hand on Anandmayi’s shoulders. The Ayodhyan princess was sitting outside the chamber where Parvateshwar had been imprisoned. She had refused to move for the last few days.

  ‘Why don’t you go to your room and sleep,’ said Ayurvati. ‘I’ll sit here.’

  A determined Anandmayi shook her head. Wild horses couldn’t drag her away.

  ‘Anandmayi...’

  ‘They aren’t even letting me meet him, Ayurvati,’ sobbed Anandmayi.

  Ayurvati sat down next to Anandmayi. ‘I know...’

  Anandmayi turned towards the Naga soldiers standing guard at the door. ‘MY HUSBAND IS NO CRIMINAL!’

  Ayurvati took Anandmayi’s hand in hers. ‘Calm down... These soldiers are only following orders...’

  ‘He’s no criminal... He’s a good man...’

  ‘I know...’

  Anandmayi rested her head on Ayurvati’s shoulders and began to cry.

  ‘Calm down,’ said Ayurvati soothingly.

  Anandmayi raised her head and looked at Ayurvati. ‘I don’t care if the entire world turns against him. I don’t even care if the Neelkanth turns against him. I will stand by my husband. He is a good man... a good man!’

  ‘Have faith in the Neelkanth. Have faith in his justice. Speak to him the moment he arrives in Kashi.’

  The sun was directly overhead as Shiva’s ship prepared to dock at Assi Ghat. Shiva, Sati and Gopal were at the balustrade.

  ‘I do not understand why King Athithigva has to organise a grand reception every time I come here,’ said Shiva as he looked at the giant canopy and vast throngs of people waiting.

  Gopal smiled. ‘I don’t think Lord Athithigva orders his people to assemble, my friend. The people gather of their own accord to welcome their Neelkanth.’

  ‘Yes, but it is so unnecessary,’ said Shiva. ‘They shouldn’t be taking a break from their work to welcome me. If they really do want to honour me, they should work even harder at their jobs.’

  Gopal laughed. ‘People have a tendency to do what they want to do rather than what they should be doing.’

  The ship was now close enough for them to see the expressions of the people on the dock, even the nobility standing farther away on higher ground.

  ‘Something is not right,’ said Sati.

  ‘Why is everyone looking troubled?’ asked Gopal.

  Shiva studied the crowds carefully. ‘You’re right. Something’s wrong.’

  ‘King Athithigva seems disturbed,’ said Sati.

  ‘Kali, Ganesh, Kartik and Bhagirath are in a heated discussion,’ said Shiva. ‘What’s troubling them so much?’

  Sati tapped Shiva lightly. ‘Look at Anandmayi.’

  ‘Where?’ asked Shiva, not finding her in the area cordoned off for the nobility.

  ‘She’s in the crowd,’ said Sati, gesturing with her eyes. ‘Right where the ship’s gangplank will land.’

  ‘Perhaps she wants to talk to you the moment you step off, my friend,’ said Gopal.

  ‘She looks deeply agitated, Shiva,’ said Sati.

  Shiva scanned the entire port area. And he softly asked, ‘Where’s Parvateshwar?’

  The guards stepped aside as the Neelkanth stormed into the temporary prison. Sati, Gopal, Anandmayi and Kali could hardly keep pace.

  He encountered Veerbhadra, Parshuram and Nandi in deep conversation with a fettered Parvateshwar.

  ‘What the hell is the meaning of this?’ shouted a livid Shiva.

  ‘My Lord,’ said Parvateshwar as he rose, the chains clinking.

  Nandi, Veerbhadra and Parshuram rose too.

  ‘Remove his chains!’

  ‘Shiva,’ said Kali softly, ‘I don’t think that is wise...’

  ‘Remove his chains now!’

  Nandi and Parshuram immediately set to work. The chains were removed with great haste. Parvateshwar rubbed his wrists, helping the blood flow freely.

  ‘Leave me alone with Parvateshwar.’

  ‘Shiva...’ said Veerbhadra.

  ‘Have I not made myself clear, Bhadra? Everybody leave right now!’

  Kali shook her head disapprovingly, but obeyed. The others stepped out without any sign of protest.

  Shiva turned to Parvateshwar, his eyes blazing with fury.

  Parvateshwar was the first to speak. ‘My Lord...’

  Shiva raised his hand, signalling for him to keep quiet. Parvateshwar obeyed immediately. Shiva looked away as he walked back and forth, breathing deeply to calm his mind. He remembered his uncle Manobhu’s words.

  Anger is your enemy. Control it. Control it.

  Much as he tried, Shiva could feel the fury welling up within him like a coiled snake waiting to strike. But his mind also told him that the issue at hand was far too important to allow anger to cloud his judgement.

  Once he had breathed some calm into his mind and heart, Shiva turned to Parvateshwar. ‘Tell me this is not true. Just say it and I will believe you, regardless of what anyone else says.’

  ‘My Lord, this is the most difficult decision I have ever had to make in my life.’

  ‘Do you intend to fight me, Parvateshwar?’

  ‘No, My Lord. But I’m duty-bound to protect Meluha. I hope some miracle ensures that you and Meluha are not on opposite sides.’

  ‘Miracle? Miracle? Are you a child, Parvateshwar? Do you think it is possible for me to compromise with Meluha where the Somras is concerned?’

  ‘No, My Lord.’

  ‘Do you think that the Somras is not evil?’

  ‘No, My Lord. The Somras is evil. I have stopped using it from the moment you said that it was evil.’

  ‘Then why would you fight to protect the Somras?’

  ‘I will only fight to protect Meluha.’

  ‘But they are on the same side!’

  ‘That is my misfortune, My Lord.’

  ‘You stubborn...’

  Shiva checked himself in time. Parvateshwar remained silent. He knew the Neelkanth’s anger was justified.

  ‘Is Bhrigu forcing you to do this? Has he captured somebody who is important to you? We can take care of that. No one important to you will get hurt as long as I am alive.’

  ‘Maharishi Bhrigu is not forcing me in any way, My Lord.’

  ‘Then who in Lord Rudra’s name is making you do this?’

  ‘My soul. I have no choice. This is what I must do.’

  ‘That does not make any sense, Parvateshwar. Do you actually believe that your soul is forcing you to fight for Evil?’

  ‘My soul is only making me fight for my motherland, My Lord. This is a call that I cannot refuse. It is my purpose.’

  ‘Your soul is taking you down a dangerous path, Parvateshwar.’

  ‘Then so be it. No danger should distract one from walking one’s path.’

  ‘What nonsense is this? Do you think Bhrigu cares about you? All he cares for is the Somras. Trust me, once your purpose is served, you will be killed.’

  ‘All of us will die when we have served our purpose. That is the way of the universe.’

  Shiva covered his face with his hands in sheer frustration.

  ‘I know you are angry, My Lord,’ said Parvateshwar. ‘But your purpose is to fight Evil. And you must do all that you can to accomplish it.’

  Shiva continued to stare at Parvateshwar silently.

  ‘All I am asking is for you to understand that just like you have to serve your purpose, I must serve mine. Your soul will not allow you to rest till you have destroyed Evil. My soul will not allow me to rest till I have done all that I can to protect Meluha.’

  Shiva ran his hands over his face, trying desperately to maintain his calm. ‘Do you think I am wrong, Parvateshwar?’

  ‘Please, My
Lord. How can I ever think that? You would never do anything that is wrong.’

  ‘Then can you please explain the strange workings of your mind? You will not walk with me, although you admit that my path is right. Instead, you insist on walking on a path which leads to your death. In the name of Lord Rudra, why?’

  ‘Svadharma nidhanam shreyaha para dharmo bhayaavahah,’ said Parvateshwar. ‘Death in the course of performing one’s own duty is better than engaging in another’s path, for that is truly dangerous.’

  Shiva stared hard at Parvateshwar for what seemed like an eternity, then turned around and bellowed.

  ‘Nandi! Bhadra! Parshuram!’

  They rushed in.

  ‘General Parvateshwar will continue to remain our prisoner,’ said Shiva.

  ‘As you command, My Lord,’ said Nandi, saluting Shiva.

  ‘And Nandi, the General will not be chained.’

  Chapter 18

  Honour or Victory?

  ‘I say that we have no choice,’ said Kali. ‘I agree we cannot kill him, but he must remain our prisoner here till the end of the war.’

  Shiva and his family, along with Gopal, were assembled in the Neelkanth’s private chambers at the Kashi palace.

  Ganesh glanced at a seething Sati and decided to hold his counsel.

  Kartik, however, had no such compunctions. ‘I agree with mausi.’

  Shiva looked at Kartik.

  ‘I know that it is a difficult decision,’ continued Kartik. ‘Parvateshwarji has behaved with absolute honour. He was not privy to any of our strategy discussions. He could have escaped on multiple occasions, but did not. He waited till you returned so he could take your permission to leave. But you’re the Neelkanth, baba. You have the responsibility for India on your shoulders. Sometimes, for the sake of the larger good, one has to do things that may not appear right at the time. Perhaps, a laudable end can justify some questionable means.’

  Sati glared at her younger son. ‘Kartik, how can you think that a great end justifies questionable means?’

  ‘Maa, can we accept a world where the Somras continues to thrive?’

  ‘Of course we can’t,’ said Sati. ‘But do you think that this struggle is only about the Somras?’

  Ganesh finally spoke up. ‘Of course it is, maa.’

  ‘No, it is not,’ said Sati. ‘It is also about the legacy that we will leave behind, of how Shiva will be remembered. People from across the world will analyse every aspect of his life and draw lessons. They will aspire to be like him. Didn’t we all criticise Lord Bhrigu for using the daivi astras in the attack on Panchavati? The Maharishi must have justified what he did with arguments similar to what you’re advocating. If we behave in the same way then what will differentiate us from him?’

  ‘People only remember victors, didi,’ said Kali. ‘For history is written by victors. They can write it however they want. The losers are always remembered the way the victors portray them. What is important right now is for us to ensure our victory.’

  ‘Please allow me to disagree, Your Highness,’ said Gopal. ‘It is not true that only victors determine history.’

  ‘Of course, it is,’ said Kali. ‘There is a Deva version of events and an Asura version of events. Which version do we remember?’

  ‘If you talk about the present-day India, then yes, the Deva version is remembered,’ said Gopal. ‘But even today, the Asura version is well known outside of India.’

  ‘But we live here,’ said Kali. ‘Why should we bother about the beliefs that prevail elsewhere?’

  ‘Perhaps I have been unable to make myself clear, Your Highness,’ said Gopal. ‘It’s not just about the place, but also about the time. Will the Deva version of history always be remembered the way it is? Or is it possible that different versions will emerge? Remember, if there’s a victor’s version of events, then there’s a victim’s narrative that survives equally. For as long as the victors remain in command, their version holds ground. But if history has taught us one thing, it is that communities rise and fall in eminence just as surely as the tides ebb and flow. There comes a time when victors do not remain as powerful, when the victims of old become the elite of the day. Then, one will find that narratives change just as dramatically. This new version becomes the popular version in time.’

  ‘I disagree,’ dismissed Kali. ‘Unless the victims escape to another land, like the Asuras, they will always remain powerless, their experiences dismissed as myths.’

  ‘Not quite,’ said Gopal. ‘Let me talk about something that is close to your heart. In the times that we live, the Nagas are feared and cursed as demons. Many millennia ago, they were respected. After winning this war they will become respectable and powerful once again as loyal allies of the Neelkanth. Your version of history will then begin to gain currency once again, won’t it?’

  An unconvinced Kali chose to remain silent.

  ‘An interesting factor is the conduct of the erstwhile victims in the new era,’ said Gopal. ‘Armed with fresh empowerment, will they seek vengeance on the surviving old elite?’

  ‘Obviously the victims will nurse hatred in their hearts. Would you expect them to be filled with the milk of human kindness?’ asked Kali, sarcastically.

  ‘You hate the Meluhans, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes, I do.’

  ‘But how do you feel about the founding father of Meluha, Lord Ram?’

  Kali was quiet. She held Lord Ram in deep reverence.

  ‘Why do you revere Lord Ram, but reject the people he left behind?’ asked Gopal.

  Sati spoke up on her sister’s behalf. ‘That is because Lord Ram treated even his enemies honourably, quite unlike the present-day Meluhans.’

  Shiva observed Sati with quiet satisfaction.

  ‘A man becomes God when his vision moves beyond the bounds of victors and losers,’ said Sati. ‘Shiva’s message has to live on forever. And that can only happen if both the victors and the losers find validation in him. That he must win is a given. But equally critical is his winning the right way.’

  Gopal was quick to support Sati. ‘Honour must beget honour. That is the only way.’

  Shiva walked to the balcony and gazed at the massive Kashi Vishwanath temple on the Sacred Avenue, and beyond it at the holy Ganga.

  Everyone was poised for his decision.

  He turned and whispered, ‘I need some time to think. We will meet again tomorrow.’

  Sati looked down. The clear waters of the lake lay below her. The fish swam rapidly, keeping pace with her as she flew over the water, towards the banks in the distance.

  She looked up towards a massive black mountain, different in hue from all the surrounding mountains, topped by a white cap of snow. As she drew close, her vision fell upon a yogi on the banks of the lake. He wore a tiger-skin skirt. His long, matted hair had been tied up in a bun. His muscular body was covered by numerous battle scars. A small halo, almost like the sun, shone behind his head. A crescent moon was lodged in his hair while a snake slithered around his neck. A massive trident stood sentinel beside him, half-buried in the ground. The face of the yogi was blurred, though. And then the mists cleared.

  ‘Shiva!’ said Sati.

  Shiva smiled at her.

  ‘Is this your home? Kailash?’

  Shiva nodded, never once taking his eyes off her.

  ‘We shall come here one day, my love. When it’s all over, we shall live together in your beautiful land.’

  Shiva’s smile broadened.

  ‘Where are Ganesh and Kartik?’

  Shiva didn’t answer.

  ‘Shiva, where are our sons?’

  Suddenly, Shiva started ageing. His handsome face was rapidly overrun by wrinkles. His matted hair turned white almost instantaneously. His massive shoulders began to droop, his taut muscles dissolving before Sati’s very eyes.

  Sati smiled. ‘Will we grow old together?’

  Shiva’s eyes flew wide open. Like he was looking at something that did not
make sense.

  Sati looked down at her reflection in the waters. She frowned in surprise. She hadn’t aged a day. She still looked as young as always. She turned back towards her husband. ‘But I’ve stopped using the Somras. What does this mean?’

  Shiva was horror-struck. Tears were flowing fiercely down his wrinkled cheeks as his face was twisted in agony. He reached out with his hand, screaming loudly. ‘SATI!’

  Sati looked down. Her body was on fire.

  ‘SATI!’ he screamed once again, getting up and running towards the lake. ‘DON’T LEAVE ME!’

  Still facing Shiva, Sati began to fly backwards, faster and faster, the wind fanning the flames on her body. But even through the blaze she could see her husband running desperately towards her.

  ‘SATI!’

  Sati woke up with a start. The beautifully carved Kashi palace ceiling looked ethereal in the flickering torch-light. The only sound was that of the water trickling down the porous walls, cooling the hot dry breeze as it flowed in. Sati instinctively reached out to her left. Shiva wasn’t there.

  Alarmed, she was up in a flash. ‘Shiva?’

  She heard him call out from the balcony. ‘I’m here, Sati.’

  Walking across, she could make out Shiva’s silhouette in the darkness as he leaned back in an easy chair, focussed on the Vishwanath temple in the distance. Nestling comfortably against him on the armrest, she reached out her hand and ran it lovingly through her husband’s locks.

  It wasn’t a full moon night, but there was enough light for Shiva to clearly see his wife’s expression.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ asked Shiva.

  Sati shook her head. ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Something’s wrong. You look disturbed.’

  ‘I had a strange dream.’

  ‘Hmmm?’

  ‘I dreamt that we were separated.’

  Shiva smiled and pulled Sati close to him, embracing her. ‘You can dream all you want, but you’re never getting away from me.’

  Sati laughed. ‘I don’t intend to.’

  Shiva held his wife close, turning his gaze back to the Vishwanath temple.