The Oath of The Vayuputras (53 page)
Lunch was entirely unappetising and cold, with the harsh mountain winds adding to the discomfort. But the dry fruit that Kurush had brought along provided a boost of energy, much needed for the back-breaking ride that lay ahead.
Kurush quickly packed the remaining food, mounted his horse and kicked it into action after making sure that he had a good grip over the reins of the fourth horse. Gopal and Shiva settled into a canter behind him.
‘The Asuras took refuge here?’ asked Shiva, still in shock.
‘Yes,’ answered Gopal. ‘Lord Rudra himself brought the few surviving Asura leaders to Pariha. Others, who were in hiding, were also led out of India by the Vayuputras. Some Asuras went farther west, even beyond Elam. I’m not really sure what happened to them. But many of them stayed on in Pariha.’
‘And Lord Rudra accommodated these Asuras into the Vayuputra tribe, did he?’
‘Not all of them. He found that a few of the Asuras were not detached enough to become members of the Vayuputra tribe. They were allowed to live in Pariha as refugees. But a vast majority of the remainder became Vayuputras.’
‘A lot of them would have been the Asura royalty. Wouldn’t they have wanted to attack India and take revenge on the Devas who had defeated them?’
‘No. Once they entered the Vayuputra brotherhood, they ceased to be Asuras. They gave up their old identities and embraced the primary task Lord Rudra had set for the Vayuputras: to protect the holy land of India from Evil.’
Shiva inhaled deeply as he absorbed this news. The Asuras had been able to go beyond their hatred for their former enemies and work for the mission mandated by Lord Rudra.
‘In a strange twist of fate, the Asuras, who to the Devas were demons, were in fact actively working behind the scenes to protect them from the effects of Evil,’ said Gopal, as he guided his horse to the right and entered a narrow pass.
Shiva suddenly thought of something, and rode up to Gopal.
‘But Pandit
ji
, I’m sure the Asuras would not have forgotten their old culture. They must surely have influenced the Parihan way of life. It’s impossible to shed one’s cultural memes even after having moved away to foreign lands generations ago. Unless, of course, one becomes as detached as the ascetics.’
‘You’re right,’ said Gopal. ‘The Asura culture did impact the Parihans. For instance, do you know the Parihan term for gods?’
Shiva shrugged.
Gopal glanced at Shiva conspiratorially. ‘Before you answer, know this, that in the old Parihan language, there was no place for the production and perception of the phonetic sound “s”. It either became “sh” or “h”. So, what do you think they called their gods?’
Shiva frowned, making a wild guess. ‘Ahuras?’
‘Yes, Ahuras.’
‘Good Lord! What were their demons called then?’
‘Daevas.’
‘By the great Lord Brahma!’
‘It’s the exact opposite of the Indian pantheon. We call our gods Devas and demons Asuras.’
Shiva smiled slightly. ‘They’re different, but they’re not evil.’
Shiva, Gopal and Kurush had been riding for a little over a month. Late winter made travelling through the harsh mountainous terrain a test of will. Shiva, who’d lived most of his life in the highlands of Tibet, managed the expedition quite well. But Gopal, who was used to the moist heat of the plains, was struggling due to the cold and rarefied atmosphere.
‘We’re here,’ said Kurush out of the blue one day, as he raised his hand.
Shiva pulled his reins. They had been on a narrow pathway, no more than four or five metres wide. Shiva dismounted from his horse, tied the reins to a rocky outcrop and walked up to Gopal to assist him. He tied Gopal’s horse, helped him sit with his back propped up against the mountain side, and offered his water to the Chief Vasudev. Gopal sipped the life-nurturing fluid slowly.
Having helped his friend, Shiva looked around. To the left was a sheer, rocky mountainside, almost as steep as a cliff, which extended upwards for several hundred metres. To the right was a steep drop, to a dry valley far below. As far as the eye could see, there was no sign of any life anywhere. No human habitation, no animal, not even the few valiant plants and trees that they had seen at lower heights.
Shiva looked at Gopal with raised eyebrows and whispered. ‘We’re here?’
Gopal gestured towards Kurush. The Parihan was carefully running his hands over the mountain wall, his eyes shut, trying to locate something. He suddenly stopped. He had found what he was seeking. Shiva had moved up in the meantime and saw the faint indentation of a symbol on the mountainside. A figurative flame he had come to recognise:
Fravashi
.
Kurush pressed the ring on his index finger into the centre of the symbol. A block of rock, the size of a human head, emerged from the right. Kurush quickly placed both his hands on the rock, stepped back to get some leverage, and pushed hard.
Shiva watched in wonder as the mountain seemed to come to life. A substantial section, nearly four metres across and three metres wide, receded inwards and then slid aside, revealing a pathway going deep into the mountain’s womb.
Kurush turned towards Shiva and indicated that they were good to go. Shiva helped Gopal onto his horse and handed the reins to his friend. As he walked towards his horse, he noticed that while the rocky outcrop where he had tethered his animal looked natural, in fact, it was manmade. Shiva mounted his horse and quickly joined Gopal and Kurush, riding into the heart of the mountain.
The rocky concealed entrance had closed behind them just as smoothly. It would have been pitch dark inside except for a flaming torch that was maintained by the Parihans on one of the walls, which threw its light ahead for a few metres. Beyond that, the light lost its struggle against the omnipresent darkness of the cavernous pathway. Kurush picked three unlit torches from a recess on the wall, lit them and handed one each to Gopal and Shiva. Thereupon he swiftly rode ahead, holding his torch aloft. Shiva and Gopal kicked their horses and made haste after him.
Soon the pathway split into a fork, but Kurush unhesitatingly led them up one, disregarding the other. Just like the Nagas in the Dandak forests, the Vayuputras too had ensured that in the unlikely scenario of any unauthorised person finding his way into the secret pathway, he would inevitably get lost within the mountain, unless led by a Vayuputra guide.
Shiva expected many more such misleading paths along the way. He was not disappointed.
A half hour later, after a long monotonous ride, the travellers emerged on the other side of the mountain, almost blinded by the sudden onslaught of bright sunlight. Even as his eyes adjusted, Shiva’s jaw dropped with amazement as he took in what lay ahead.
The other side of the mountain was dramatically different from what they had seen up to now. A broad, winding road had been cut into the sides of the mountain. Called the Rudra Avenue by the local Parihans, a beautifully carved railing ran along its sides, affording protection for horses or carriages from slipping off the road to certain death in the sheer ravine below. The Rudra Avenue wound its way along the steep mountain in a gentle descent to the bottom. The valley itself, naturally dry as a bone, was surrounded on all sides by steep mountains. The splendour of nature notwithstanding, what Shiva was struck by was what the Parihans had done with it. Hidden away from prying eyes, surrounded by unconquerable mountains, in this secluded spot, they had truly created a
land of fairies, Pariha
.
The Rudra Avenue ended at the base of a terrace. This platform though, unlike the ones built by the Meluhans, had not been constructed as protection against flood. The problem with water in Pariha was not one of excess but that of scarcity. The platform had been built to create a smooth base atop the rough, undulating, mountainous valley, allowing for the construction of massive structures upon it. The city of Pariha had been built on it.
Kurush, Gopal and Shiva approached the platform at the lowest point of the valley. The platform was at its tallest here, nearly twenty metres high. A massive ceremonial gate had been erected at what was obviously the only entry point into the city. The road was surrounded by high walls on both sides, and narrowed down as it led to the well barricaded gate. Looking admiringly around, the warrior in Shiva understood that the approach to the city gates perforce funnelled an attacking force into a narrow neck, thus making defence easy for the Parihans.
The massive ornate city gates had been hewn out of the local brown stone that Shiva had frequently seen en route. The gate itself was flanked on either side by large pillars, on which crouched two imposing creatures, as if ready to pounce in defence of their city. This unfamiliar creature carried the head of a man on the body of a lion and sprouted the broad wings of an eagle. Parihan pride was unmistakable in the features of the face: a sharp forehead held high, a hooked nose, neatly beaded beard, a drooping moustache and lengthy locks emerging from under a square hat. The aggressive, warrior-like visage was tempered somewhat by calm, almost friendly eyes.
Shiva noted that Kurush’s conversation with the gatekeeper was done. He walked back and spoke respectfully to Gopal. ‘My Lord, the formalities have been completed. Please accept my apologies that it took us so long to get here. Shall we?’
‘There’s no need for an apology, Kurush,’ said Gopal politely. ‘Let’s go.’
Shiva quietly followed Kurush and Gopal, keenly aware of the gatekeeper’s quizzical, perhaps even judgemental eyes.