‘We will not be able to go to Pariha together,’ said Shiva.
‘I know,’ said Sati. ‘I was told by Gopalji that Parihans only allow Vayuputras and Vasudevs to enter their domain. I am neither.’
‘Well, technically, nor am I.’
Sati pulled her angvastram over her head so as to cover her left cheek. She held the hem of the cloth between her teeth, covering her facial scar. ‘But you are the Neelkanth. Rules can be broken for you.’
Shiva came forward, and pulled Sati close with one hand. With the other, he held the angvastram covering her face and tried to pull it back. Even though she knew he did not care, Sati liked to hide her scar from Shiva. It didn’t matter to her if others saw it, but not Shiva.
‘Shiva...’ whispered Sati, holding her angvastram close.
Shiva tugged hard and pulled the angvastram free from her mouth. An upset Sati tried to yank it back but Shiva managed to overpower her, holding her close.
‘I wish you could see through my eyes,’ whispered Shiva, ‘so you could see your own ethereal beauty.’
Sati rolled her eyes and turned away, still struggling within Shiva’s grip. ‘I’m ugly! I know it! Don’t use your love to insult me.’
‘Love?’ asked Shiva, pretending mock surprise, wiggling his eyebrows. ‘Who said anything about love? It’s lust! Pure and simple!’
Sati stared at Shiva, her eyes wide. Then she burst out laughing.
Shiva pulled her close again, grinning. ‘This is no laughing matter, my princess. I am your husband. I have rights, you know.’
Sati continued to laugh as she hit Shiva playfully on his chest.
Shiva kissed her tenderly. ‘I love you.’
‘You’re mad!’
‘That I am. But I still love you.’
Chapter 33
The Conspiracy Deepens
‘Brilliant idea, Your Highness,’ said Vidyunmali.
Daksha sat in his private office with his new confidant, Vidyunmali. The Meluhan brigadier’s increasing frustration with Parvateshwar’s cautious approach had forged a new alliance. According to Vidyunmali, this wait-and-watch strategy of General Parvateshwar was giving Shiva’s army time to recover from its defeat at Devagiri. He had begun to spend more and more time with the emperor. Daksha had got him reassigned to head a brigade of a thousand soldiers that guarded the emperor, his family and his palace. This gave him a simple advantage: the brigade could carry out personal missions mandated by the emperor.
Sensing increasing comfort in the relationship, Daksha had finally confided in him about his idea to end the war. Much to Daksha’s delight, Vidyunmali’s reaction was very different from Bhrigu’s.
‘Exactly!’ exclaimed a happy Daksha. ‘I don’t know why the others don’t understand.’
‘Your Highness, you are the emperor,’ said Vidyunmali. ‘It doesn’t matter if others don’t agree. If you have decided to go ahead, then that is the will of Meluha.’
‘You really think we should go ahead...’
‘It doesn’t matter what I think, Your Highness. What do you think?’
‘I think it is brilliant!’
‘Then that is what Meluha thinks as well, My Lord.’
‘I think we should implement it.’
‘What are your orders for me, My Lord?’
‘I haven’t worked out the details, Brigadier,’ said Daksha. ‘You will need to think it through. My job is to look at the big picture.’
‘Of course,’ said Vidyunmali. ‘My apologies, Your Highness. But I don’t think we can execute our plan till the maharishi and the general leave Devagiri. They may try to stop us if they get the slightest whiff of our intentions.’
‘They were planning to leave for Karachapa; or at least that was Parvateshwar’s latest plan. I was not supportive of the idea earlier, but now I will encourage it and hasten their departure.’
‘An inspired move, Your Highness. But we must also concentrate on getting the right assassins.’
‘I agree. But where do we find them?’
‘They must be foreigners, Your Highness. We do not want them recognised. They will be wearing cloaks and masks, of course. You want them to look like Nagas, right?’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘I know some people. They are the best in the business.’
‘Where are they from?’
‘Egypt.’
‘By the great Lord Varun, that’s too far! It will take too much time to get them here.’
‘I will leave immediately, Your Highness. That is, if I have your permission.’
‘Of course you have it. Accomplish this, Vidyunmali, and Meluha will sing your praises for centuries.’
‘Lord Gopal and I will leave within a week,’ said Shiva.
Shiva and Gopal sat in the governor’s office, surrounded by Sati, Kali, Ganesh, Kartik, Bhagirath, Chenardhwaj, Chandraketu and Maatali. The monsoons were drawing to an end, light smatterings of rain appearing occasionally, as if to bid farewell. Shiva and Gopal had decided to travel south, as planned, in their small convoy of military ships. They intended to rendezvous with a merchant ship at a secret location north of the Narmada delta. The Southwesterly winds would have receded by the time and the rains would have stopped. They would then board the merchant ship and use the Northeasterly winds to set sail towards the west, in the direction of Pariha. With luck, the deception would work and the Meluhans would be unaware of Shiva’s actual destination.
‘I want our destination to be kept secret,’ continued Shiva. ‘Victory is assured if our mission succeeds.’
‘What are you planning to do, My Lord?’ asked Bhagirath.
‘Leave that to me, my friend,’ said Shiva cryptically. ‘In my absence, Sati will be in command.’
Everyone nodded in instant agreement. They were unaware though, that Sati had fought this decision. After Devagiri, she didn’t think she deserved this command. But Shiva had insisted. He trusted her the most.
‘Pray to Lord Ram and Lord Rudra that our mission is a success,’ said Gopal.
Shiva stood on the shores of the Mansarovar lake, watching the slow descent of the sun in the evening sky. There was no breeze at all and it was eerily still. A sudden chill enveloped him, and he looked down, surprised to see that he was standing in knee-deep water. He turned around and began wading out of the lake. Thick fog had blanketed the banks of the Mansarovar. He couldn’t see his village at all. As he stepped out of the lake, the mist magically cleared.
‘Sati?’ asked a surprised Shiva.
Sati sat calmly atop a thick pile of wood. Her metal armour had been secured around her torso, carved arm bands glistened in the dusky light, her sword lay by her side and the shield was fastened on her back. She was prepared for war. But why was she wearing a saffron angvastram, the colour of the final journey?
‘Sati,’ said Shiva, walking towards her.
Sati opened her eyes and smiled serenely. It appeared that she was speaking. But Shiva couldn’t hear the words. The sound reached his ears with a delay of a few moments. ‘I’ll be waiting for you...’
‘What? Where are you going?’
Suddenly, a hazy figure appeared bearing a burning torch. Without a moment’s hesitation, he rammed it into the pile of wood that Sati sat upon. It caught fire instantly.
‘SATI!’ screamed a stunned Shiva as he raced towards her.
Sati continued to sit upon the burning pyre, at peace with herself. Her beatific smile presented an eerie contrast to the flames that leapt up around her.
‘SATI!’ shouted Shiva. ‘JUMP OFF!’
But Sati was unmoved. Shiva was just a few metres away from her when a platoon of soldiers jumped in front of him. Shiva drew his sword in a flash, trying to push the soldiers aside. But they battled him relentlessly. The soldiers were huge and unnaturally hairy, like the monster from his dream. Shiva battled them tirelessly but could not push through. Meanwhile, the flames had almost covered his wife, such that he couldn’t even see her clear
ly. And yet, she continued to sit on the pyre, without attempting to escape.
‘SATI!’
Shiva woke up in a sweat as his hand stretched out desperately. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. He turned to his left instinctively. Sati was asleep, her burnt cheek clearly visible in the night light.
Shiva immediately bent over and embraced his wife.
‘Shiva...’ whispered a groggy Sati.
Shiva didn’t say anything. He held her tight, as tears streamed down his face.
‘Shiva?’ asked Sati, fully awake now. ‘What’s the matter, darling?’
But Shiva couldn’t say a word, choked with emotion.
Sati pulled her head back to get a better look in the dim light. She reached up and touched his cheeks. They were moist.
‘Shiva? Sweetheart? What’s wrong? Did you have a bad dream?’
‘Sati, promise me that you will not go into battle till I return.’
‘Shiva, you’ve made me the leader. If the army has to go into battle, I will have to lead them. You know that.’
Shiva kept quiet.
‘What did you see?’
He just shook his head.
‘It was just a dream, Shiva. It doesn’t mean anything. You need to focus your attention on your journey. You’re leaving tomorrow. You must succeed in your mission with the Vayuputras. That will bring an end to this war. Don’t let anxieties about me distract you.’
Shiva remained impassive, refusing to let go.
‘Shiva, you carry the future on your shoulders. I’m saying this once again. Don’t let your love for me distract you. It was just a dream. That’s all.’
‘I can’t live without you.’
‘You won’t have to. I’ll be waiting for you when you return. I promise.’
Shiva pulled back a bit, looking deep into Sati’s eyes. ‘Stay away from fires.’
‘Shiva, seriously, what...’
‘Sati, promise me! You will stay away from fires.’
‘Yes, Shiva. I promise.’
Chapter 34
With the Help of Umbergaon
Shiva was ready to leave. His bags had been sent to his ship. He had ordered all his aides out of his chamber. He’d wanted a few minutes alone with Sati.
‘Bye,’ whispered Shiva.
She smiled and embraced him. ‘Nothing will happen to me, my good man! You will not get rid of me so easily.’
Shiva laughed softly, for Sati had used his own line on him. ‘I know. It was just an overreaction to a stupid nightmare.’
Shiva pulled Sati’s face up and kissed her affectionately. ‘I love you.’
‘I love you too.’
A couple of weeks later Shiva and Gopal stood on a beach in a hidden lagoon, a short distance to the north of the Narmada delta. The small convoy of military ships had sneaked into the lagoon the previous night. Shiva and Gopal had disembarked into rowboats, along with a skeletal crew, and stolen onto the beach. Early next morning, the merchant ship that would take them to Pariha arrived in the lagoon.
‘Hmmm... good workmanship,’ said an admiring Shiva.
It was, without doubt, a bulky ship, obviously designed to carry large cargo. However, any sailor could judge that with its double masts, high stern and low bow, this craft was also built for speed. In addition, the ship had been rigged with two banks of oars, to allow for ‘human propulsion’ if required.
‘We won’t really need the rowers,’ said Gopal. ‘Our vessel will have the Northeasterly winds in its sails.’
‘Where is this beauty from?’ asked Shiva.
‘A small shipping village called Umbergaon.’
‘Umbergaon? Where is it?’
‘It’s to the south of the Narmada River delta.’
‘That’s not a part of any empire, Swadweep or Meluha.’
‘You guessed right, my friend. That makes it a perfect place to build ships that one doesn’t want tracked. The local ruler, Jadav Rana, is a pragmatic man. The Nagas have helped him many times. He values their friendship. And, most importantly, his people are expert ship builders. This ship will get us to Pariha as fast as is humanly possible.’
‘Interesting. We should be grateful for their invaluable help.’
‘No,’ said Gopal, smiling. ‘It is Pariha that should be grateful to Umbergaon, for the Umbergaonis have ensured that the gift of the Neelkanth shall reach Pariha.’
‘I’m no gift,’ said a discomfited Shiva.
‘Yes, you are. For you will help the Vayuputras achieve their purpose. You will help them fulfil their vow to Lord Rudra: to not let Evil win.’
Shiva remained silent, as always, embarrassed.
‘And I’m sure,’ continued a prescient Gopal, ‘that one day, Pariha too shall send a gift in return to Umbergaon.’
‘How’re you feeling now, my friend?’ asked Gopal, as soon as he entered Shiva’s cabin.
The vessel bearing the two men had been sailing in the open seas for a little more than a week. They were far beyond the coastline and unlikely to run into any Meluhan military ships. They’d run into choppy waters though, in the last few days. The sailors, used to the ways of the sea, were not really troubled by it. Neither was Gopal, who had travelled on these great expanses of water many times. But Shiva had undertaken a sea voyage just once, from the Narmada delta to Lothal, where the ship had stayed close to the coast. It was, therefore, no surprise that the rough sea had given the Neelkanth a severe bout of seasickness.
Shiva looked up from his bed and cursed, his eyes half shut. ‘I have no stomach left! It has all been churned out! A plague on these wretched waters!’
Gopal laughed softly, ‘It’s time for your medicines, Neelkanth.’
‘What’s the point, Panditji? Nothing stays inside!’
‘For whatever little time the medicine remains, it will serve a purpose. Take it.’
Gopal gently poured a herbal infusion into a wooden spoon. Balancing it delicately, the Chief Vasudev offered it to Shiva, who swallowed it quickly and fell back on the bed.
‘Holy Lake, help me,’ whispered Shiva, ‘let this medicine stay within me for a few minutes at least.’
But the prayer probably didn’t reach Mansarovar Lake in time. Shiva lurched to his side and retched into the large pot that had been placed on the ground. A sailor standing by the bed rushed forward quickly and handed a wet towel to Shiva, who wiped his face slowly.
Shiva shook his head and looked up at the ceiling of his cabin in disgust. ‘Crap!’
Bhrigu and Parvateshwar rode on horseback at the head of a massive army that had marched out of Devagiri. They were on their way to the Beas River, from which point, ships would sail them down to Karachapa.
‘I was thinking that the powerful fleet in Karachapa is not the only advantage derived from our decision to shift our war command,’ said Bhrigu.
Parvateshwar frowned. ‘What other benefit does it serve, My Lord?’
‘Well, there’s also the fact that you will not have to suffer idiotic orders from your emperor. You will be free to conduct the war the way you deem fit.’
It was obvious that Bhrigu held Daksha in contempt, and did not think much of his harebrained schemes. But Parvateshwar was too disciplined a Meluhan to speak openly against his emperor. He was stoic in his silence.
Bhrigu smiled. ‘You really are a rare man, General, a man of the old code. Lord Ram would have been proud of you.’
Aided by the Northeasterly winds pushing hard into its sails, the merchant ship was cutting through the waters with rapid speed. Having tossed and turned for a few days, Shiva had finally adapted to the sea. The Neelkanth was able, therefore, to enjoy the stiff morning breeze on the main deck at the bow, with Gopal for company.
‘We are now crossing over from our Western Sea, through a very narrow strait,’ said Gopal. ‘It’s just a little over fifty kilometres across.’
‘What’s on the other side?’ asked Shiva.
‘The Jam Zrayangh.??
?
‘Sounds scary. What in Lord Ram’s name does that mean?’
Gopal laughed. ‘Something absolutely benign. Zrayangh simply means sea in the local language.’
‘And what does Jam mean?’
‘Jam means “to come to”.’
‘To come to?’
‘Yes.’
‘So this is the “sea that you come to”?’
‘Yes, a simple name. This is the sea you must come to if you want to go to Elam or Mesopotamia or any of the lands farther west. But most importantly, this is the sea you must approach if you need to go to Pariha.’
‘I’ve heard of Mesopotamia. It has strong trade relations with Meluha, right?’
‘Yes. It’s a very powerful and rich empire, established between two great rivers in the region, the Tigris and the Euphrates.’
‘Is the empire bigger than Meluha and Swadweep?’
‘No,’ smiled Gopal. ‘It’s not even bigger than Meluha alone. But they believe human civilisation began in their region.’
‘Really? I thought we Indians believed that human civilisation began here.’
‘True.’
‘So, who’s right?’
Gopal shrugged. ‘I don’t know. This goes back many thousands of years. But frankly, does it matter who got civilised first so long as all of us eventually became civilised?’
Shiva smiled. ‘True. And where is Elam?’
‘Elam is a much smaller kingdom to the south-east of Mesopotamia.’
‘South-east?’ asked Shiva. ‘So, Elam is closer to Pariha?’
‘Yes. And Elam acts as a buffer state between Pariha and Mesopotamia, which is why the Parihans have occasionally helped the Elamites unofficially.’
‘But I thought Pariha never got involved in local politics.’
‘They try to avoid it. And most people in the region have not even heard of the Vayuputras. But they were concerned that an expanding Mesopotamia would encroach into their land.’
‘Expanding Mesopotamia?’
‘A gifted gardener had once conquered the whole of Mesopotamia.’
‘A gardener? How did a gardener become a warrior? Did he train in secret?’