The Oath of the Vayuputras

  ‘I’ll tell Kartik as well,’ said Veerini. ‘I’ve been told he’s at the Tamra platform.’

  Shiva nodded silently before looking back towards the building where Sati’s body lay entombed in ice.

  Veerini stepped forward to embrace Shiva. He held his mother-in-law lightly.

  ‘Try to find some peace, Shiva,’ said Veerini. ‘It’s what Sati would have wanted.’

  ‘Have you been able to find peace?’

  Veerini smiled wanly.

  ‘We will only find peace now when we meet Sati again,’ said Shiva.

  ‘She was a great woman. Any mother would be proud to have a daughter like her.’

  Shiva kept quiet, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye.

  Veerini held Shiva’s hand. ‘I have to tell you this. She could have been alive. When she found out about the conspiracy, she was in Devagiri, in our palace. She could have chosen to stay out of it. But she fought her way out of the city and rushed into the battle to save Nandi and her other bodyguards. And she did save many. She died a brave, honourable, warrior’s death, fighting and challenging her opponents till her last breath. It was the kind of death she always wished for herself; that any warrior wishes for himself.’

  Shiva’s eyes welled up again. ‘Sati set very high standards for herself.’

  Veerini smiled sadly.

  Shiva took a deep breath. He needed to focus on the Pashupatiastra. He folded his hands together into a polite Namaste. ‘I should...’

  ‘Of course,’ said Veerini. ‘I understand.’

  Shiva bent and touched his mother-in-law’s feet. She touched his head gently and blessed him. He turned and walked back to supervise the work on the weapon. This was the only thing that stopped his spirit from imploding.

  Veerini turned and embraced her daughter Kali and grandson Ganesh.

  ‘I have been unfair to the both of you,’ said Veerini.

  ‘No you haven’t, maa,’ said Kali. ‘It was father who committed the sins. Not you.’

  ‘But I failed in my duty as a mother. I should have abandoned my husband when he refused to accept you.’

  Kali shook her head. ‘You had your duty as a wife as well.’

  ‘It is not a wife’s duty to support her husband in his misdeeds. In fact, a good wife corrects her husband when he is wrong, even if she has to ram it down his throat.’

  ‘I don’t think he would have listened, naani,’ said Ganesh to his grandmother, ‘no matter how hard you tried. That man is...’

  Veerini looked at her grandson as Ganesh checked himself from insulting his grandfather to her face. She noticed his eyes. They weren’t calm and detached, like they had been the last time she had met him. They were full of rage; repressed fury over his mother’s death.

  ‘Naani, if you will excuse me. I need to work on the tower.’

  ‘Of course, my child.’

  Ganesh bent down, touched his grandmother’s feet and walked back to Tara.

  ‘Maa, wait for a bit and Ganesh will take you to our ship,’ said Kali. ‘You can stay there till this is over and then return with us to Panchavati. It would be so wonderful to have you in my home, even if it is a hundred years after it was meant to be. Having you with us will help us all cope with our grief and the vacuum left behind by Sati.’

  Veerini smiled and embraced Kali. ‘I’ll have to wait for my next birth to live in your home, my child.’

  Kali was taken aback. ‘Maa! You don’t have to be punished for that old goat’s crimes! You will not return to Devagiri!’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Kali. I’m the Queen of Meluha. When Devagiri dies, so shall I.’

  ‘Of course not!’ cried Kali. ‘There’s no reason...’

  ‘Would you leave Panchavati on the day of its destruction?’

  Kali was stumped. But the Naga queen was not one who gave in easily. ‘That’s a hypothetical question, maa. What is important is that...’

  ‘What is important, my child,’ interrupted Veerini, ‘is the identity of the man who helped your father execute the conspiracy. Many of the conspirators have escaped, as have the assassins. They will not die here tomorrow. You need to find them. You need to punish them.’

  Chapter 50

  Saving a Legacy

  The sun had long set across the western horizon. Kartik, Gopal and Bhagirath were stationed at the far corner of the Tamra platform. Neither the other two Devagiri platforms nor Shiva’s army encampment had a clear view of this area. It was the best place for Kartik to carry out his mission.

  Twenty Branga soldiers from the command of Divodas, who had become fanatically loyal to Kartik after the Battle of Bal-Atibal Kund, were with him. These soldiers held on tightly to a rope, gently allowing it to roll away from them at a gradual pace. Divodas worked along with them. The rope was attached to a pulley that had been rigged on top of the Tamra platform wall. Circling the pulley, the rope went down to where it had been tied to a wooden cage, which could carry ten Brahmins at a time. Ten of them, together with their books and essential equipment, were descending towards Kartik’s refuge. Secrecy was essential, for it was forbidden to remove any knowledge of the Somras from the city, the penalty being death.

  As a failsafe, another rope had been tied to the wooden cage. This particular rope was also circled around a pulley that was rigged onto the fort wall. But the grasping end of this rope was in the hands of Suryavanshi soldiers at the top of the platform. They were being supervised by Parvateshwar. Both groups of soldiers worked in tandem to release their end of the ropes at the same pace, so that the cage could descend gently to the ground. The angle of the wall made it impossible for Parvateshwar to look over and judge the movement of the wooden cage as well as its distance from the ground. And if the Suryavanshis holding the rope on top did not synchronise their movement with Divodas’ team below, it could lead to the cage becoming unbalanced, resulting in a possible accident.

  To prevent this from happening, Bhagirath had been made to stand at a distance, far enough to be able to view both Divodas’ team as well as the Suryavanshis above. The new moon helped aid Bhagirath’s vision. His task was to keep whistling the way birds do, but in a steady rhythm, till the wooden cage touched the ground. He played the role of a time-keeper, setting the pace for the movements of the soldiers.

  Kartik whirled around when Bhagirath’s whistling stopped. Divodas and his team had not paused but continued releasing the rope at the same pace. The Suryavanshis on top of the fort walls however, used to following orders, had instantly come to a halt when Bhagirath stopped whistling. Immediately, the wooden cage became unbalanced and tilted heavily to one side.

  ‘Stop!’ hissed Kartik.

  Divodas and his team stopped. The cage containing ten Brahmins of the Somras factory remained suspended dangerously in the air. To the admiration of Gopal, the Brahmins in the cage remained quiet despite the possibility of falling to their death. Any sharp noise would have alerted others to what was going on.

  Kartik rushed towards Bhagirath, who seemed lost in his own world.

  ‘Prince Bhagirath?’

  Bhagirath immediately came out of his stupor and began to whistle. The Suryavanshis started releasing the rope at a steady pace and the wooden cage descended softly to the ground. The Brahmins caged within stepped out quickly in an orderly fashion.

  As the two teams began pulling the empty cage back up, the whistling was no longer required. In the upward movement, what was necessary was speed, and not steadiness.

  ‘Prince Bhagirath, please pay attention. The lives of many people are at stake.’

  Kartik was aware of the reason behind Bhagirath’s distress. Parvateshwar had refused to leave Devagiri. The Meluhan general had decided he would perish along with his beloved city. And to Bhagirath’s utter dismay, Anandmayi had decided to stay with her husband.

  Bhagirath had fought passionately with her over her decision. He had pleaded with her, had begged her to reconsider. ‘Do you think Parvateshwar wants
you to die? And what about me? Why are you trying to hurt me? Do you hate me so much? I am your brother. What have I done to deserve this?’

  Anandmayi had only smiled, her eyes glistening with love and tears. ‘Bhagirath, you love me and want me to live, with every fibre of your soul. So let me live. Let me live every last second of my life, in the way that I believe life should be lived. Let me go.’

  Bhagirath shook his head as if to clear his mind. ‘My apologies, Kartik.’

  Kartik stepped forward and held Bhagirath’s arm. ‘Prince, your sister was right about you. You will make a far better king than your father.’

  Bhagirath snorted. He already knew the Chandravanshi army that had been ordered to march to Devagiri under the command of the Meluhan brigadier Vraka had rebelled against his father, Emperor Dilipa. The soldiers believed that the Ayodhyan emperor had led them into an ill-conceived battle where they were fighting on the side of their former enemies, the Meluhans, against their Neelkanth. Bhagirath knew that a section of the troops had already set out for Devagiri to convince him to ascend the throne. But he didn’t care. He was tormented by the impending loss of his beloved sister.

  ‘But do you know what the mark of a great king is?’ asked Kartik.

  Bhagirath looked at Kartik.

  ‘It’s the ability to remain focused, regardless of personal tragedy. You will have time to mourn your sister and brother-in-law, Prince Bhagirath. But not now. You are the only one here who can whistle like a night bird and make it sound natural. You cannot fail.’

  ‘Yes, Lord Kartik,’ said Bhagirath, addressing the young man as his Lord for the first time.

  Kartik turned around. ‘Come here.’

  A Branga soldier marched up.

  ‘Prince Bhagirath,’ said Kartik, ‘this man will remain here to support you in your task.’

  Bhagirath didn’t object. Kartik quickly walked back to Gopal.

  Seeing the pensive look of the Vasudev chief, Kartik asked, ‘What happened, Panditji?’

  Gopal pointed to the Suryavanshi soldier. ‘Lord Parvateshwar has sent a message. Maharishi Bhrigu has refused to leave the city.’

  Kartik shook his head. ‘Why are the Meluhans so bloody eager to die?’

  ‘What do I do, Lord Kartik?’ asked the Suryavanshi.

  ‘Take me to Maharishi Bhrigu.’

  A flickering sacrificial flame spread its light as best as it could in the night. Its reflection on the nearby Saraswati River aided its cause. Ganesh sat quietly on a patla, a low stool, with his legs crossed and his fleshy hands placed on his knees, his long fingers extended out delicately. He wore a white dhoti.

  A barber was shearing Ganesh’s hair, while Ganesh kept chanting a mantra softly and dropping some ghee into the sacrificial flame.

  Having removed all of Ganesh’s hair, the barber put his implement down and wiped his head with a cloth. Then he picked up a small bottle he had taken from Ayurvati, poured the disinfectant into his hands and spread it on Ganesh’s head.

  ‘It’s done, My Lord.’

  Ganesh didn’t reply. He looked directly at the sacrificial flame and spoke softly. ‘She was the purest among them all, Lord Agni. Remember that as you consume her. Take care of her and carry her straight to heaven, for that is where she came from. She was, is and forever will be a Goddess. She will be the Mother Goddess.’

  It was late in the night when a tired Shiva trudged back to his Sati. The Pashupatiastra was ready. There were just a few more tests that needed to be conducted. Tara was at it. The peace conference area was within the external blast radius of the Pashupatiastra, so Sati’s body would be moved from her icy tomb the next morning.

  What nobody dared verbalise was that, without the Meluhan cooling mechanism, her body would start decomposing, and she would need to be cremated. That was something Shiva refused to contemplate.

  Shiva opened the door of the inner chamber in the building, shivering at the sudden blast of cold air. He could see Ganesh, his son, standing next to the ice tower, holding his dead mother’s hand. His head had been shaven clean. The Lord of the Nagas was on his toes, his mouth close to his mother’s ear. Following an ancient tradition, he was whispering hymns from the Rig Veda into her ear.

  Shiva walked up to Ganesh and touched his shoulder lightly. Ganesh immediately pulled up his white angvastram and wiped his eyes before turning to face his father.

  Shiva embraced his son.

  ‘I miss her, baba.’ Ganesh held Shiva tightly.

  ‘I miss her too...’

  Ganesh began to cry. ‘I abandoned her in her hour of need.’

  ‘You weren’t the only one, my son. I wasn’t there either. But we will avenge her.’

  Ganesh kept sobbing helplessly.

  ‘I want to kill them all. I want to kill every single one of those bastards!’

  ‘We will kill the Evil that took her life.’ Shiva held his son quietly while he sobbed. He closed his eyes and pulled Ganesh in tighter, and whispered hoarsely, ‘Whatever the cost.’

  Veerbhadra and Krittika had come to the Rajat platform. Krittika had lived in Devagiri for a long time and knew most people, so she had been trying to speak to those who were choosing to stay back, trying to convince them to leave.

  ‘Veerbhadra, I need to talk to you.’

  Veerbhadra turned around to see Kali and Parshuram standing behind him.

  ‘Yes, Your Highness,’ said Veerbhadra.

  ‘In private,’ said Kali.

  ‘Of course,’ said Veerbhadra, touching Krittika lightly before walking away.

  ‘Vidyunmali?’ spat out Veerbhadra, his face hardening with fury.

  ‘He’s the main conspirator,’ said Kali. ‘He’s hidden in the city, badly injured from some recent skirmish.’

  Parshuram touched Veerbhadra’s shoulder. ‘We have to enter the city in a small group and locate him.’

  Kali touched her knife, a serrated blade that delivered particularly painful wounds. ‘We need to encourage him to talk. We need to know the identity of the assassins who escaped.’

  ‘That son of a bitch deserves a slow, painful death,’ growled Veerbhadra.

  ‘That he does,’ said Kali. ‘But not before we’ve made him talk.’

  Parshuram stretched his hand out, palm facing the ground. ‘For the Lord Neelkanth.’

  Veerbhadra placed his hand on Parshuram’s. ‘For Shiva.’

  Kali placed her hand on top. ‘For Sati.’

  Chapter 51

  Live On, Do Your Karma

  ‘You want to enter Devagiri?’ screeched Krittika. ‘Are you mad?’

  ‘I will be back soon, Krittika,’ argued Veerbhadra. ‘There is no lawlessness in the city. You’ve seen the way the Meluhans are behaving.’

  ‘That may be so. But Vidyunmali’s men will surely be prowling the streets. What do you think they’re going to do? Welcome you with flowers?’

  ‘They will not notice me, Krittika.’

  ‘Nonsense! Most people in Devagiri recognise you as the Lord Neelkanth’s friend.’

  ‘They will recognise me only if they see me. It’s late at night. I’m going to be hidden from view. Nobody will notice me.’

  ‘Why can’t you send someone else?’

  ‘Because this is the least I can do for my friend. We need to find out who Princess Sati’s actual killers are. Vidyunmali knows. He is the one who organised and implemented this peace farce.’

  ‘But we are destroying the entire city. All the conspirators will be dead in any case!’

  ‘Krittika, many of the killers got away,’ said Veerbhadra. ‘Except for Vidyunmali, nobody knows who they are. If we don’t get to know their identities now, we will never know.’

  Krittika looked away, having run out of arguments but still deeply troubled. ‘I’m as angry as you are about Princess Sati’s death. But the killing has to stop some time.’

  ‘I have to go, Krittika.’

  Veerbhadra tried to kiss her goodbye but she turned her face aw
ay. He could understand her anger. She had lost the woman she had idolised all her life. Her hometown, Devagiri, was about to be destroyed. She did not want to risk losing her husband as well. But Veerbhadra had to do this. Sati’s killers had to be punished.

  ‘Panditji,’ said Kartik, his hands folded in a Namaste and his head bowed low.

  Bhrigu opened his eyes. The maharishi had been meditating in the grand Indra temple next to the Public Bath.

  ‘Lord Kartik,’ said Bhrigu, surprised to see Kartik in Devagiri at this time of night.

  ‘I’m too young for you to address me as Lord, great Maharishi,’ said Kartik.

  ‘Noble deeds make a man a Lord, not merely his age. I have heard about your efforts to ensure the Somras is not completely destroyed. History will thank you for it. Your glory will be recounted for ages.’

  ‘I’m not working for my own glory, Panditji. My task is to be true to my father’s mission. My task is to do what my mother would have wanted me to do.’

  Bhrigu smiled. ‘I don’t think your mother would have wanted you to come here. I don’t think she would have wanted you to save me.’

  ‘I disagree,’ said Kartik. ‘You are a good man. You just picked the wrong side.’

  ‘I didn’t just pick this side, I led it into battle. And the dictates of dharma demand that I perish with it.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘If the side I led committed such crimes, I must pay for it. If fate has determined that those that supported the Somras have sinned, then the Somras must be evil. I was wrong. And, my punishment is death.’

  ‘Isn’t that taking the easy way out?’

  Bhrigu stared at Kartik, angered by the implied insult.

  ‘So you think you have done something wrong, Panditji,’ said Kartik. ‘What is the way out? Escaping through death? Or, actually working to set things right by balancing your karma?’

  ‘What can I do? I’ve conceded that the Somras is evil. There’s nothing left for me to do now.’

  ‘You have a vast storehouse of knowledge within you Panditji,’ said Kartik. ‘The Somras is not the only subject you excel at. Should the world be deprived of Lord Bhrigu’s Samhita?’