The Oath of The Vayuputras (27 page)
‘What can I do, My Lady?’ asked Surapadman. ‘My father is a grieving old man who has convinced himself that his favourite son was a noble and valiant Kshatriya, who died while defending his kingdom from a cowardly Naga attack. How can I tell him the truth? How do I tell him that Ugrasen was in fact a compulsive gambler who was trying to kidnap a hapless boy-rider so that he could win some money? Should I tell my father that my great brother tried to murder a mother who was protecting her own child? That the apparently wicked Nagas were actually heroes who saved a subject of his own kingdom from his son’s villainy? Do you think he will even listen to me?’
‘There is nobility in truth,’ said Sati, ‘even if it hurts.’
Surapadman laughed softly. ‘This is not Meluha, My Lady. Meluhans’ devotion to “the truth” is seen by many here as nothing but rigidity of thought. Chandravanshis prefer to choose from several alternative truths which may simultaneously co-exist.’
Sati remained silent.
Surapadman turned to Shiva. ‘My Lord, my father thinks that I am an ambitious warmonger who’s impatient to ascend the throne. He preferred my elder brother, who was more attuned to my father’s views. I think he suspects that I engineered the death of Ugrasen, in pursuit of my goals.’
‘I’m sure that’s not true,’ said Shiva. ‘You are his capable son.’
‘It takes a very self-assured man to appreciate the talents of another, My Lord,’ said Surapadman. ‘Even when it comes to one’s own progeny. Ironically, the Nagas have in fact helped me, for my path to the throne is clear. All I have to do is wait for my father to pass on. And desist from doing anything that will make him disinherit me and offer the throne to some relative. Given this, if I were to tell my father that his favourite son’s murder by the “evil” Nagas was absolutely justified, I would probably go down in history as the stupidest royal ever.’
Gopal smiled slightly. ‘It appears that we are at an impasse, Prince Surapadman. What do we do?’
Surapadman narrowed his eyes. ‘Just give me a Naga.’
‘I can’t,’ said Shiva.
‘I’m not asking for the one who actually killed Ugrasen, My Lord,’ said Surapadman. ‘I guess he is someone important. All I’m asking for is a random Naga. I will present him to my father as Ugrasen’s killer and we’ll have him executed forthwith. My father will then happily retire and go into
sanyas
to pray for my brother’s soul. And I, along with all the resources of Magadh, will stand beside you. I know the Brangas are with you. Victory is assured if Magadh and Branga are on the same side. You will win the war, My Lord, and Evil will be destroyed. All you need to do is sacrifice an insignificant Naga, who is suffering for the sins of his past lives in any case. We will actually be giving him an opportunity to earn good karma. What do you say?’
Shiva did not hesitate even for a second. ‘I cannot do that.’
‘My Lord...’
‘I will not do that.’
‘But...’
‘No.’
Surapadman leaned back in his chair. ‘We indeed seem to be at an impasse, great Vasudev. My father will not allow me to fight in an army that includes the Nagas unless we can assuage his thirst for vengeance.’
Shiva spoke up before Gopal could respond. ‘What if you do not pick any side at all?’
Surapadman frowned, intrigued.
‘Convince your father to remain neutral,’ continued Shiva. ‘Allow my ships to proceed to battle with Ayodhya. If we are able to beat them, then your primary enemies are weakened. If they beat us, our army, including the Nagas, would be in retreat. Your imagination can fill in the rest. You win both ways.’
Surapadman smiled. ‘That does have an attractive ring to it.’
Parvateshwar and Anandmayi were housed in a separate wing of the massive Kashi palace, having arrived in the city recently. Anandmayi and Ayurvati had gone to meet Veerbhadra and the Gunas.
The Meluhan general was sitting in his chamber balcony, looking out towards the Ganga flowing in the distance.
‘My Lord,’ called out the doorman.
Parvateshwar turned. ‘Yes?’
‘A messenger has just delivered a note for you.’
‘Hand it to me.’
‘Yes, My Lord.’
As the doorman came in, Parvateshwar asked, ‘Who brought the message?’
‘The main palace door-keeper, My Lord.’
Parvateshwar raised his brows. ‘An outsider would not be allowed in, would he? What I wanted to know was who gave the message to the palace door-keeper?’
The doorman looked lost. ‘How would I know, My Lord?’
Parvateshwar sighed. These Swadweepans had no sense of systems and procedures. It’s a wonder that an enemy didn’t just stroll into their key installations. He took the neatly sealed papyrus scroll from the doorman and dismissed him. Parvateshwar couldn’t recognise the symbol on the seal. It appeared to be a star, the kind used in ancient astrological charts. He shrugged and broke it open. The script surprised him; it was one of the standard Meluhan military codes. This one was used exclusively by senior Suryavanshi military officers. It was meant for top secret messages during times of war. For all others, the words in the scroll would have been absolute gibberish.
Lord Parvateshwar, it’s time to prove your loyalty to Meluha. Meet me in the garden behind the Sankat Mochan temple at the end of the third prahar. Come alone.
Parvateshwar caught his breath. He instinctively looked towards the door. He was alone. He tucked the scroll into the pouch tied to his waistband.
He knew what he had to do.
The sound of bells, drums and prayer chants rent the morning air, day after day, at the Sankat Mochan temple. Having thus awoken Lord Hanuman, the devotees then sing
bhajans,
as Lord Hanuman would do, to gently wake his master, Lord Ram. At the end of this elaborate
puja
, the great seventh Vishnu proceeds to grant
darshan
, the divine pleasure of
beholding him
. The silence at dusk, however, belied the exuberance of the dawn. This was the time when Parvateshwar strode into the great temple.
Parvateshwar looked back to ensure that nobody was following him. Then he walked swiftly towards the garden behind the temple. It was quiet. Parvateshwar approached a tree at the far end of the garden and sat leaning against it.
‘How are you, General?’ asked a soft, polite voice.
Parvateshwar looked up. ‘I’ll do a lot better when I see you.’
‘Are you alone?’
‘I wouldn’t have come had I not been alone.’
There was silence for some time.
Parvateshwar got up to leave. ‘If you are a true Meluhan, you would know that Meluhans don’t lie.’
‘Wait, General,’ said Bhrigu, as he emerged from the shadows.
Parvateshwar was stunned. He recognised the
Saptrishi Uttradhikari
. He knew that despite wielding tremendous influence, Bhrigu had never interfered in the workings of Meluha. He found it hard to believe that Bhrigu could involve himself in mundane matters of the material world.
‘I am taking a huge risk in meeting you face-to-face,’ smiled Bhrigu. ‘I had to be sure that you were alone.’
‘What are you doing here,
Maharishiji
?’ asked Parvateshwar, bowing to the
great sage
.
‘I’m doing my duty. As you are doing yours.’
‘But you have never interfered in earthly matters.’
‘I have,’ said Bhrigu. ‘But only on rare occasion. And this is one such.’
Parvateshwar remained silent.
So
Bhrigu is the true leader.
He was the one who had sent the joint Meluha-Ayodhya fleet to attack Lord Shiva’s convoy by stealth outside Panchavati.
Parvateshwar’s respect for Bhrigu went down a notch. The great sage was human after all.
‘You already know what you have to do,’ said Bhrigu. ‘I know that you will not support the fraud Neelkanth in attacking your beloved motherland.’
Parvateshwar bristled with anger. ‘Lord Shiva is not a fraud! He’s the finest man to have walked the earth since Lord Ram!’
Bhrigu stepped back, astonished. ‘Perhaps I was wrong. Perhaps you do not love Meluha as much as I thought you did.’
‘Lord Bhrigu, I would die for Meluha,’ said Parvateshwar. ‘For it is my duty to do so. But please don’t make the mistake of thinking that I despise the Lord Neelkanth. He is my living God.’
Bhrigu frowned, even more surprised. He looked into Parvateshwar’s eyes. The normally restrained sage’s mouth fell open ever so slightly. He realised that he was looking at a rare man who spoke exactly what he thought. Bhrigu’s tenor changed and became respectful. ‘My apologies, great General. I can see that your reputation does you justice. I misunderstood you. Sometimes the hypocritical nature of the world makes us immune to a rare sincere man.’
Parvateshwar remained silent.
‘Will you fight for Meluha?’ asked Bhrigu.
‘To my last breath,’ whispered Parvateshwar. ‘But I will fight according to Lord Ram’s laws.’
‘Of course.’
‘We will not break the rules of war.’
Bhrigu nodded silently.
‘I suggest, Maharishi
ji
,’ said Parvateshwar, ‘that you return to Meluha. I will follow in a few weeks.’
‘It would not be wise to remain here, General,’ said Bhrigu. ‘If anything were to happen to you, the consequences for Meluha would be disastrous. Your army needs a good leader.’
‘I cannot leave without taking my Lord’s permission.’
Bhrigu thought he hadn’t heard right. ‘Excuse me? Did you say that you wanted to take permission from the Neelkanth before leaving?’
He was careful not to say ‘fraud Neelkanth’.
‘Yes,’ answered Parvateshwar.
‘But why would he allow you to leave?’
‘I don’t know if he will. But I know I cannot leave without his permission.’
Bhrigu spoke carefully. ‘Uhhh, Lord Parvateshwar, I don’t think that you realise the gravity of the situation. If you tell the Neelkanth that you are going to lead his enemies, he will kill you.’
‘No, he won’t. But, if he chooses to do so, then that will be my fate.’
‘My apologies for sounding rude, but this is foolhardy.’
‘No, it’s not. This is what a devotee does if he chooses to leave his Lord.’
‘But...’
‘Lord Bhrigu, this sounds peculiar to you because you haven’t met Lord Shiva. His companions don’t follow him out of fear. They do so because he is the most inspiring presence in their lives. My fate has put me in a position where I am being forced to oppose him. It’s breaking my heart. I need his blessings and his permission to give me the strength to do what I have to do.’
Bhrigu’s slow nod revealed a glimpse of grudging respect. ‘The Neelkanth must be a special man to inspire such loyalty.’
‘He is not just a special man, Maharishi
ji
. He is a living God.’
‘I think we’ve achieved what we came here for,’ said Sati.
Gopal, Sati and Shiva had retired to their chambers in Surapadman’s palace. As a mark of goodwill, Surapadman had persuaded them to stay on for a few days and allow him to ready a few weapons for Shiva’s army.
‘Yes, I agree,’ said Gopal. ‘Surapadman’s offer of weapons, though token in nature, is symbolic of his having allied with us.’