The Oath of the Vayuputras

  For the moment though, Shiva remained on Sati’s ship as it sailed down the Saraswati. Having checked on the naval movements with the captain, Shiva descended to Sati’s cabin.

  Ayurvati sat by her bedside, applying soothing herbs on Sati’s burnt face. Quickly and efficiently, she tied a bandage of neem leaves. ‘This will ensure that your wound doesn’t get infected.’

  Sati nodded politely. ‘Thank you, Ayurvatiji.’

  ‘Also,’ continued Ayurvati, thinking Sati may be concerned about the ugly mark which covered nearly a quarter of her face, ‘don’t worry about the scar. Whenever you are ready, I will perform a cosmetic surgery to smoothen out your skin.’

  Sati nodded, her lips pursed tight.

  Ayurvati looked at Shiva and then back at Sati. ‘Take care, my child.’

  ‘Thank you once again, Ayurvatiji,’ said Sati, unable to smile due to the scar tissue forming on her face.

  Ayurvati quickly walked out of the cabin. Shiva went down on his knees and held her hand.

  ‘I’m sorry, Shiva. I failed you.’

  ‘Please stop saying that again and again,’ said Shiva. ‘I’ve been told about the way our elephants reacted to the burning chilli; it’s a miracle that you managed to save as many of our people as you did.’

  ‘You are just being kind because I’m your wife. We have lost our elephant corps and most of our cavalry. This is a disaster.’

  ‘Why are you so hard on yourself? What happened at Devagiri was not your fault. We’d lost our elephant corps the moment the Meluhans discovered that the smoke from burning chillies sends them into a state of panic.’

  ‘But I should have withdrawn earlier.’

  ‘You withdrew as soon as you saw the effect on the elephants. You had no choice but to go in with the cavalry, otherwise our soldiers would have got massacred. Practically our entire army is still intact. You did a great job to ensure that we didn’t suffer even higher casualties.’

  Sati looked away unhappily, still feeling terribly guilty.

  Shiva touched her forehead gently. ‘Sweetheart, listen to me...’

  ‘Leave me alone for a while, Shiva.’

  ‘Sati...’

  ‘Shiva, please... please leave me alone.’

  Shiva kissed Sati gently. ‘It’s not your fault. There are usually enough tragedies in life that we are genuinely responsible for. Feel guilty about them, for sure. But there is no point in burdening your heart with guilt over events that are not your fault.’

  Sati turned to Shiva with a tortured expression. ‘And what about you, Shiva? Do you really think a six-year-old child could have done anything to save that woman at Kailash?’

  It was Shiva’s turn to be silent.

  ‘The honest answer is, no,’ said Sati. ‘And yet you carry that guilt, don’t you? Why? Because you expected more from yourself.’

  Shiva’s eyes welled up with the agony of that childhood memory. There wasn’t a day in his life when he didn’t silently apologise to that woman he hadn’t been able to save; the woman he hadn’t even tried to save.

  ‘I expected more from myself as well,’ said Sati, her eyes moist.

  They empathised with each other in a silent embrace.

  Shiva and Sati’s convoy of ships had just reached the last navigable point on this distributary of the Saraswati. From here on, the river was too shallow for the ships. Even farther, the Saraswati ran dry on land itself, unable to push through to the sea.

  Shiva had avoided the distributary which led to Mrittikavati. He was on the southern-most part of the inland mouth of the Saraswati. From here on, his army would march to the frontier stronghold of Lothal. Leaving the empty ships behind was fraught with risk. It was only a matter of time before the Meluhans would get to know about it. Shiva would, in effect, be handing over twenty-five well-fitted military ships back to the Meluhans, which would allow them to move their army up and down the Saraswati with frightening speed. The decision was obvious. The ships had to be destroyed.

  Once his entire army had disembarked and the caravan that would march on to Lothal had been readied, Shiva gave orders for the ships to be burned. Fortunately there had been a break in the rains which had arrived early this year, allowing the fire to consume the ships quickly.

  Shiva stood observing the massive flames. He didn’t hear Gopal and Chenardhwaj as they stepped up to him.

  ‘Lord Agni consumes things rapidly,’ said Gopal.

  Shiva looked at Gopal before turning back to the burning ships. ‘We have no choice, Panditji.’

  ‘No, we don’t.’

  ‘What do you suggest we do, Panditji?’ asked Shiva.

  ‘The rainy season is here,’ said Gopal. ‘It will be difficult to mount a campaign to attack Devagiri any time soon. Even if we could, without the advantage of our cavalry it is unlikely that we will be able to conquer a well-designed citadel like Devagiri.’

  ‘But it will be difficult for them to attack us in Lothal as well,’ said Shiva. ‘Lothal, in fact, is better designed for defence than even Devagiri.’

  ‘True,’ said Gopal. ‘So it is a stalemate. Which suits the Meluhans just fine since all they will have to do is wait for the Ayodhyan forces to reach Meluha. They could be here in as little as six months.’

  Silently, Shiva gazed at the burning ships, contemplating this unhappy turn of events.

  Chenardhwaj spoke up. ‘I have a suggestion, My Lord.’

  Shiva turned to Chenardhwaj with a frown.

  ‘We can draw up a crack force of Nagas and my troops,’ said Chenardhwaj. ‘The commandos will attack the Somras factory stealthily. It will be a suicide mission, but we will destroy it.’

  ‘No,’ said Shiva.

  ‘Why, My Lord?’

  ‘Because Parvateshwar will certainly be prepared for that. He’s not an idiot. It will be a suicide mission all right, but not a successful one.’

  ‘There is one other way,’ whispered Gopal.

  ‘The Vayuputras?’ asked Shiva.

  ‘Yes.’

  Shiva looked back at the burning ships, his expression inscrutable. The Vayuputras appeared to be the only recourse now.

  Chapter 32

  The Last Resort

  Shiva had pulled a light cloth over his head and wrapped it around his face, leaving his eyes open. His angvastram was draped across his muscular torso, affording protection from the fine drizzle. Sati lay in a covered cart as oxen pulled it gently. She was strong enough to walk now, but Ayurvati had insisted on exercising abundant caution during the march to Lothal. Shiva parted the curtains on the cart and looked at his sleeping wife. He smiled and drew the curtain shut again.

  He kicked his horse into a canter.

  ‘Panditji,’ said Shiva, slowing his horse down as he approached Gopal. ‘About the Vayuputras...’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘What is that terrible weapon that they possess that Kali spoke of?’

  ‘The Brahmastra?’ asked Gopal, referring to the fearsome weapon of Brahma.

  ‘Yes. How is it different from other daivi astras?’ asked Shiva, for he didn’t understand how a Brahmastra was so much more terrible than other divine weapons.

  ‘Most daivi astras only kill men. But there are some, like the Brahmastra, that can destroy entire cities, if not kingdoms.’

  ‘By the holy lake! How can one weapon do that?’

  ‘The Brahmastra is the weapon of absolute destruction, my friend; a destroyer of cities and a mass-killer of men. When fired on some terrain, a giant mushroom cloud will rise, high enough to touch the heavens. Everyone and everything in the targeted place would be instantly vaporised. Beyond this inner circle of destruction will be those who are unfortunate enough to survive, for they will suffer for generations. The water in the land will be poisoned for decades. The land will be unusable for centuries; no crops will grow on it. This weapon doesn’t just kill once; it kills again and again, for centuries after it has been used.’

  ‘And people actually co
ntemplate using a weapon such as this?’ asked a horrified Shiva. ‘Panditji, using such a dreadful weapon is against the laws of humanity.’

  ‘Precisely, great Neelkanth. A weapon like this can never actually be used. The mere knowledge that one’s enemy has this weapon, can strike terror in one’s heart. No matter what the odds, one will surrender; one cannot win against the Brahmastra.’

  ‘Do you think the Vayuputras will give this weapon to me? Or am I being too presumptuous? After all, I’m not one of them. They think I’m a fraud, don’t they?’

  ‘I can think of two reasons why they may help us. First, they have not tried to assassinate you, which they would have, had a majority of them believed that you were a fraud. Maybe a strong constituency amongst them still respects your uncle, Lord Manobhu.’

  ‘And the second?’

  ‘Lord Bhrigu used daivi astras in his attack on Panchavati. It was not the Brahmastra, but it was a daivi astra nevertheless. Even if it was fabricated from Lord Bhrigu’s own material, he broke Lord Rudra’s laws by actually using one. That, I suspect, would have turned the Vayuputras virulently against him. And an enemy’s enemy...’

  ‘...is a friend,’ said Shiva, completing Gopal’s statement. ‘But I’m not sure these are reasons enough.’

  ‘We don’t have any other choice, my friend.’

  ‘Perhaps... How do we get to the land of the Vayuputras?’

  ‘Pariha is at a substantial distance towards our west. We can march overland, through the great mountains, to get there. But that is risky and time consuming. The other option is to take the sea route. But we will have to wait for the Northeasterly winds.’

  ‘The Northeasterlies? But they begin only when the rains stop. We’ll have to wait for one or two months.’

  ‘Yes, we will have to.’

  ‘I have an idea. I’m sure the Meluhans will set up spies and scouts in and around Lothal once they know that we have retreated into the city. So if we take the conventional route to Pariha, they will know that I have sailed west. Lord Bhrigu may guess that I’ve gone to the Vayuputras to seek help, which may encourage him to send assassins in pursuit. How about sailing south in a small convoy of military ships?’

  Gopal immediately understood. ‘We’ll make them think that we’re going to the Narmada, onwards perhaps to either Ujjain or Panchavati.’

  ‘Exactly,’ said Shiva. ‘We could disembark from our military ships at a secret location and then set sail in a nondescript merchant ship to Pariha.’

  ‘Brilliant. The Meluhans can keep searching for you along the Narmada while we are on our way to Pariha.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘And if we use just one merchant ship instead of an entire convoy, we could keep the voyage secretive and be quick.’

  ‘Right again.’

  Sati stood at a window in a lookout-shelter on the southern edge of Lothal fort, staring at the vast expanse of sea beyond its walls. The monsoon had arrived in earnest and heavy rain was pelting the city.

  Shiva and his army were well fortified within the city walls. Ganesh was expected to arrive in Lothal within a week or two, along with his force.

  Ayurvati rushed into the shelter with a loud whoop, propping her cane and cloth umbrella beside the entrance. ‘Lord Indra and Lord Varun, be praised! They have decided to deliver the entire quota of this year’s rain in a single day!’

  Sati turned towards Ayurvati with a wan look.

  Ayurvati sat next to her and squeezed the end of her drenched angvastram. ‘I love the rain. It seems to wash away sorrows and bring new life with renewed hope, doesn’t it?’

  Sati nodded politely, not really interested. ‘Yes, you are right, Ayurvatiji.’

  Not one to give up, Ayurvati plodded on, determined to lighten Sati’s mood. ‘I’m quite free right now. There aren’t too many injured and the monsoon diseases have, surprisingly, been very low this year.’

  ‘That is good news, Ayurvatiji,’ said Sati.

  ‘Yes, it is. So, I was thinking that this would be a good time to do your surgery.’

  Sati’s face carried an ugly blemish on her left cheek, where scar tissue had formed over the remnants of the burns she had suffered during the Battle of Devagiri.

  ‘There’s nothing wrong with me,’ said Sati politely.

  ‘Of course there isn’t. I was only referring to the scar on your face. It can be removed very easily through cosmetic surgery.’

  ‘No. I don’t want surgery.’

  Ayurvati assumed that Sati was worried about the long recovery time and the possible impact on her ability to participate in the next battle. ‘But it is a very simple procedure, Sati. You will recover in a couple of weeks. We seem to be in for a good monsoon this year. This means there will be no warfare for a few months. You will not miss any battle.’

  ‘Nothing would keep me away from the next battle.’

  ‘Then why don’t you want to do this surgery, my child? I’m sure it would make the Lord Neelkanth happy.’

  A hint of a smile escaped her solemn demeanour. ‘Shiva keeps telling me I’m as beautiful as ever, scar or no scar. I know I look horrendous. He’s lying because he loves me. But I choose to believe it.’

  ‘Why are you doing this?’ asked an anguished Ayurvati. ‘It won’t hurt you at all; not that you are scared of pain...’

  ‘No, Ayurvatiji.’

  ‘But why? You have to give me a reason.’

  ‘Because, I need this scar,’ said Sati grimly.

  Ayurvati paused for a moment. ‘Why?’

  ‘It constantly reminds me of my failure. I will not rest till I have set it right and recovered the ground that I lost for my army.’

  ‘Sati! It wasn’t your fault that...’

  ‘Ayurvatiji,’ said Sati, interrupting the former chief surgeon of Meluha. ‘You of all people should not tell me a white lie. I was the Commanding Officer and my army was defeated. It was my fault.’

  ‘Sati...’

  ‘This scar stays with me. Every time I look at my reflection, it will remind me that I have work to do. Let me win a battle for my army, and then we can do the surgery.’

  ‘Dada,’ whispered Kartik, gently placing his hand on his angry brother’s arm.

  Ganesh’s army had just arrived at Lothal. They too had avoided Mrittikavati as advised by a Vasudev pandit. Just like Shiva, Ganesh had ensured that all his ships were destroyed on the Saraswati before his army marched south to Lothal.

  They were received at the gates of Lothal by Governor Chenardhwaj. Ganesh and Kartik had wanted to meet their parents immediately, but were informed by Chenardhwaj that Shiva wanted to meet them beforehand. Shiva wanted to prepare them for their first meeting with their mother after her defeat at the Battle of Devagiri.

  Meanwhile, the allies of the Neelkanth – Bhagirath, the Prince of Ayodhya, Chandraketu, the King of Branga, and Maatali, the King of Vaishali – were led to their respective chambers in the Lothal governor’s residence by protocol officers. The Chandravanshi royalty, used to the pomp and pageantry of their own land, were distinctly underwhelmed by the austere arrangements of the Meluhan accommodation. It was difficult to believe that the governor of one of the richest provinces of the richest Empire in the world lived in such simplicity. However, they accepted their housing with good grace, knowing it was the will of Shiva.

  The army was accommodated in guesthouses and temporary shelters erected within the city. It was a tribute to the robust urban planning of Meluha that such a large number of new arrivals could be so quickly accommodated in reasonable comfort. All in all, a massive army, now totalling nearly two hundred and fifty thousand soldiers, had set up residence in Lothal.

  Having been briefed by Shiva, Ganesh and Kartik rushed to meet their mother. They had been told about the nature of her injuries. Shiva did not want the brothers to inadvertently upset her further. While Kartik was, as instructed by Shiva, able to control his anger and shock, Ganesh’s obsessive love for his mother did not allow
him that ability.

  Ganesh clenched his fists, staring at his mother’s disfigured face. He gritted his teeth and breathed rapidly, his normally calm eyes blazing. His long nose was stretched out, trembling in anger. His big floppy ears were rigid.

  Ganesh growled, ‘I will kill every single one of those b...’

  ‘Ganesh,’ said Sati calmly, interrupting her son. ‘The Meluhan soldiers were only doing their duty, as was I. They have done nothing wrong.’

  Ganesh’s silence was unable to camouflage his fury.

  ‘Ganesh, these things happen in a war. You know that.’

  ‘Dada, maa is right,’ said Kartik.

  Sati stepped close and embraced her elder son. She pulled his face down and kissed his forehead, smiling lovingly. ‘Calm down, Ganesh.’

  Kartik held his mother and brother as well. ‘Dada, battle scars are a mark of pride for a warrior.’

  Ganesh held his mother tight, tears streaming down his face. ‘You are not entering a battlefield again, maa. Not unless I am standing in front of you.’

  Sati smiled feebly and patted Ganesh on his back.

  Shiva walked into his suite of rooms in the governor’s residence at Lothal. Sati had moved some of the furniture to create a training circle, and was practicing her sword movements. Shiva leaned against a wall and observed his wife quietly, so as not to disturb her. He admired every perfect warrior move, the sway of her hips as she transferred her weight; the quick thrusts and swings of her sword; the rapid movement of her shield, which she used almost like an independent weapon. Shiva breathed deeply at yet another reminder of why he loved her so much.

  Sati swung around with her shield held high, as her eyes fell on Shiva.

  ‘For how long have you been watching?’ she asked, surprised.

  ‘Long enough to know that I should never challenge you to a duel!’

  Sati smiled slightly, not saying anything. She quickly sheathed her sword and put her shield down. Shiva stepped over and helped untie her scabbard.

  ‘Thank you,’ whispered Sati as she took the scabbard from Shiva, walked up to the mini-armoury and placed her shield and sheathed sword.