‘Who is he?’ asked Priya.
‘His name is Sampat Sharma. He’s the son of a wealthy horse breeder—Mr V. Y. Sharma. I have already arranged a part-time teaching job for you at the school
that he attends,’ said Sir Khan. ‘You shall keep the teaching assignment until Saini accepts you as his doctoral student.’
‘But why this particular school and this specific boy?’ asked Priya, a little hesitantly.
Sir Khan looked at Ratnani and laughed. ‘I knew there was a reason that your daughter would be perfect for this assignment, Sanjay. She has spunk! I like that.’
Turning to Priya he said, ‘I have commissioned a research study to discover the next Kalki avatar!’
‘Kalki avatar?’ asked Priya. ‘You mean the tenth incarnation of Vishnu who is prophesised to appear towards the end of Kaliyug?’
‘Yes. I’ve decided that I shall not wait for the real Kalki avatar to appear. I shall create my own,’ chuckled Sir Khan. ‘For that I need someone who has all the right markers. This boy fits the role perfectly.’
‘What purpose will he serve?’ asked Priya.
‘He shall be your student, Mataji,’ said Sir Khan solemnly. ‘He shall help us clear obstacles that stand in the way of reaching Krishna’s secret. Are you ready to serve,’ replied Sir KhanSh sai?’
‘To become a true yogi, a person must cast off all his desires. He should treat pleasure and pain as
equals. He should be free of attachment
—
as also from anger, fear, desire, jealousy or craving. This state is not easy to attain because the mind is like a wild animal. If you concentrate and meditate upon me, you too can attain this state,’ I explained to Arjuna. The confused warrior asked me, ‘If the purpose of one’s life is to attain this state of bliss, then why make me fight this war?’ I then had to explain to him the fact that there were two independent paths available to the state of bliss. The first path was through knowledge and the other was through action. Arjuna’s salvation lay in his actions and in performing his duty.
Chhedi and Rathore were at the steps of the Somnath temple. They had arrived the previous day and had scheduled to spend the following day with Mrs Desai, a professor of architecture from Gujarat Vidyapith. Mrs Desai’s husband was a friend of Rathore’s and Mr Desai had suggested that his wife would be able to give them an in-depth tour of Somnath like no one else could.
‘Call me Amita,’ she said pleasantly as she met them outside the gates of the temple. ‘So, shall we start the grand tour?’
The men nodded. ‘Lead on,’ said Chhedi grandly.
‘I figure that both of you are already familiar with the number of times that this temple was built and destroyed so I shall not go into details of that,’ began Amita. ‘Let me just say that after the 1706 destruction, the present
mandir
was not reconstructed until 1951. After Indian Independence in 1947, a committee was constituted with the objective of rebuilding the temple
at the very spot along the seashore where the original temple had stood. Sardar Vallabhbhai Patel played a critical role in spearheading the project and that’s why you see his statue right here at the entrance.’
‘Is this temple similar to the one which was destroyed in 1706?’ asked Chhedi.
‘Good question,’ replied Amita. ‘The present temple was completed in 1951 and, for the most part, duplicates the original structure. The stone façade appears golden at sunset, which is very much in keeping with the Somnath legend. As you can see, the present mandir is built in traditional design, and is a symmetrical but sinuous structure. It has a fifty-metre-high tower that rises in clusters and can be observed from great distances. Vedic architects from all over India contributed to the reconstruction. Here’s a picture of the ruins of Somnath as sketched in 1869.’
Rathore and Chhedi gasped. Looking at the ruins, one could picture the extent of the onslaught that Somnath had faced from attackers down the ages. ‘Here’s a picture of the present structure that you are now looking at,’ said Amita, handing over her album to the men.
‘What about the Shiv lingam inside? Is that new or is it the original?’ asked Rathore.
‘The Somnath lingam has always been considered the most important of the twelve Jyotir lingams in India,’ replied Amita. ‘The ancient lingam was believed to be
Swayambhu
—or self-born exploratione. b. Unfortunately, it was smashed to pieces in the year 1026. All the lingas that were installed thereafter ended up getting destroyed by a succession of attackers. The present lingam is the largest of the twelve in India. It’s a greyish granite block about a metre high and around sixty centimetres in diameter. During an archaeological excavation in 1940 by the Archaeological Survey of India, the original slab on which the lingam rests was discovered and the new lingam was fixed on this.’
‘There was something I recently read about the doors having been taken away by Mahmud Ghazni and being returned to the temple later,’ remarked Chhedi.
‘Ah. Yes, in 1842, Edward Law, the First Earl of Ellenborough, issued the Proclamation of the Gates. In this proclamation he ordered the British troops in Afghanistan to bring back the sandalwood gates that had been taken away by Ghazni from Somnath.’
‘I had heard about how Krishna was shot in his foot by a hunter near Somnath. Does the Somnath temple commemorate the spot where he died?’ asked Rathore.
‘No,’ replied Amita. ‘The Somnath temple existed many hundreds of years prior to Krishna. In fact we know that Krishna reconstructed the temple during his own lifetime also. Hence, the Somnath temple does not commemorate the spot where Krishna was killed. Just north of Somnath—on the way to Veraval—is another temple called
Bhalka Tirtha.
It is this particular temple that is located on the site where Krishna was shot. Very close to the temple is a cave known as
Baldev Gufa.
According to legend this is the cave where Krishna’s elder brother Balarama gave up his body and went back to his Sheshnag form.’
As the trio walked along the temple pathway, a priest with a gentle face appeared. He appeared to be headed towards the Dwarakadheesh temple. Around his shoulders was a saffron shawl bearing innumerable impressions of a single chant,
Hare Krishna.
He was bald, except for the Brahmin’s lock at the back of his head. From his shoulder ran a sacred thread diagonally across his chest. On his forehead was a simple tilak and around his neck were sacred beads. ‘Hare Krishna,’ he chanted. The trio folded their hands and the holy man smiled and conveyed his blessings.
‘I know what you seek,’ said the pujari cryptically. ‘Remember one thing though… the philosopher is more important than the stone.’
It was then that I decided to tell Arjuna the truth about myself—about my divinity. ‘I take on a human manifestation and the fools do not recognise me as the supreme one. I am the creator of your universe. I am the objective of meditation, ritual and prayer. I am the stuff that makes the soul of all beings. I am the beginning, middle, and end,’ I said as I took on my universal omnipotent form. Arjuna was now able to see me as divinity and said, ‘I am now convinced of the truth that you speak. I shall no longer doubt you. Instead, I shall fight, because that is my duty!’
Radhika awoke to find Saini sleeping on the chair next to her bed. She felt vaguely that she was in some sort of hospital or infirmary, but her mind was hazy. The hypothermia had taken its toll. She stretched out her arm and tapped Saini’s shoulder. He awoke with a start but was pleasantly relieved to see Radhika smiling at him.
‘You scared the living daylights out of me,’ he said to her. ‘Inside the cave, I really thought that y,’ replied Sir KhanM1 on the Kaliyugaou were a goner.’
‘It’s not that easy to kill Radhika Singh. I’m like the proverbial bad penny—I keep returning,’ she joked. ‘Let’s get out of here. This place will make me sicker than I already am.’
Saini nodded. Getting Radhika there had been stressful, and waiting for her to recover had been even more so. He was fed up of the hospital and was keen to return to the search as soon as possible. Chhedi had spoken to him on the phone earlier in the morning and had told him that Somnath had thrown up a few clues but no major discovery. ‘Any idea where Priya Ratnani and Taarak Vakil are?’ he had asked.
‘No idea,’ replied Saini, describing to Chhedi the encounter that Sherpa Dorji had with Taarak and the avalanche that followed, leading to them being trapped inside the Saptarishi Cave.
Chhedi was dumbfounded. ‘Listen, Roger, you had better get back to base. We’ve had too much death around us, we don’t need any more,’ he tried to reason.
Saini laughed it off. ‘Listen, Dumpy, you mentioned something right now about the doors of Ghazni’s tomb. Where are they?’
‘You mean the sandalwood ones brought back from Afghanistan by the British?’ asked Chhedi.
‘Yes—the ones that turned out to be replicas of the original ones. Where are they presently located? Those doors may hold the key,’ said Saini into the phone.
‘Well, the gates were removed from Mahmud’s tomb and brought back to India. They were then kept
in one of the storage rooms of the Agra Fort where they continue to sit till today,’ said Chhedi.
‘Do you recall seeing an illustration of those doors?’ asked Saini.
‘Indeed I do. The six-pointed stars were rather prominent,’ replied Chhedi.
‘Not a six-pointed star, my friend. It’s a symbol of the union between Shiv and Shakti,’ corrected Saini.
‘So, what do you want me to do now?’ asked Chhedi. ‘I have Rathore with me and we’re ready to move from here.’
‘Go to Agra. We’ll meet you there. I think it’s important for us to see those doors,’ said Saini. ‘Given that we are in Tibet, it may take us a little longer to get there than you.’
‘What do you want us to do till you arrive?’ asked Chhedi.
‘Well, besides checking out the doors in the Agra Fort, maybe you and Rathore ought to visit the Taj Mahal—rather romantic by moonlight, I’m told.’