The Oath of The Vayuputras (73 page)

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 away. 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.

‘Pandit
ji
,’ 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, Pandit
ji
. 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, Pandit
ji
,’ 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 Pandit
ji
,’ said Kartik. ‘The Somras is not the only subject you excel at. Should the world be deprived of Lord Bhrigu’s
Samhita
?’

‘I don’t think anyone is interested in my knowledge.’

‘That is for posterity to determine. You should only do your duty.’

Bhrigu fell silent.

‘Pandit
ji
, your karma is to spread your knowledge throughout the world,’ said Kartik. ‘Whether others choose to listen or not is their karma.’

Bhrigu shook his head as a wry smile softened his expression. ‘You speak well, son of the Neelkanth. But I chose to support something that turned out to be evil. For this sin, I must die. There is no karma left for me in this life. I will have to wait to be born again.’

‘One cannot allow a bad deed to arrest the wheel of karma. Don’t banish yourself from this world as a punishment for your sin. Instead, stay here and do some Good, so that you can cleanse your karma.’

Bhrigu stared at Kartik silently.

‘One cannot undo what has happened. But the inexorable march of time offers the wise opportunities for redemption. I entreat you, do not escape. Stay in this world and do your karma.’

Bhrigu smiled. ‘You are very intelligent for such a young boy.’

‘I’m the son of Shiva and Sati,’ smiled Kartik. ‘I am the younger brother of Ganesh. When the gardeners are good, the flower will bloom.’

Bhrigu turned towards the idol of Lord Indra within the sanctum sanctorum. The great God, the killer of the primal demon Vritra, stood resplendent as he held his favourite weapon,
Vajra, the thunderbolt.
Bhrigu folded his hands into a Namaste and bowed, praying for the God’s blessing.

The maharishi then turned back to Kartik and whispered,
‘Samhita...’

‘The
Bhrigu Samhita,
’ said Kartik. ‘The world will benefit from your vast knowledge, Pandit
ji
. Come with me. Don’t sit here and wait for death.’

The sun rose on the day that would be Devagiri’s last. The
Pashupatiastra
was ready. After barring the gates, Shiva’s soldiers had been asked to retreat beyond the safety line, out of the range of the expected radius of exposure. The relatives of those remaining within Devagiri too waited patiently, as they were herded back by Chandraketu’s Brangas. They kept up a constant prayer for the souls of their loved ones who were left behind in the city.

Maharishi Bhrigu and another three hundred people, who knew the secrets of the Somras, had been successfully spirited out of Devagiri the previous night. They were now kept imprisoned in a temporary stockade ten kilometres north of Devagiri under the watchful eye of Divodas and his soldiers. Kartik intended to wait for his father’s anger to subside before talking to him about Bhrigu and the others.

The peace conference building had been abandoned. Nandi and the other surviving bodyguards had been carefully evacuated onto Shiva’s ship, where a medical team under the supervision of Ayurvati maintained a constant vigil.

Ayurvati was worried about the blackish-red mark on Shiva’s brow. It had made its appearance many times before, especially when Shiva was angry. But very rarely had it stayed for so long. Shiva had brushed aside Ayurvati’s concerns.

Shiva, Kali, Ganesh and Kartik carried Sati’s body gently to a specially prepared cabin on the ship. Her corpse was laid with great care within another tomb of ice.

Shiva gently ran his hand across Sati’s face and whispered, ‘Devagiri will pay for its crimes, my love. You will be avenged.’

As Shiva stepped back, the soldiers placed another block of ice on top, enveloping Sati’s body completely.

Shiva, Kali, Ganesh and Kartik took one last look at Sati before turning around and walking out of the ship. Gopal and the kings in Shiva’s army waited at the port.

Shiva turned and nodded towards the ship captain. Soldiers marched into the rowing deck of the ship to row it back a fair distance down the Saraswati River, far away from the external blast radius of the
Pashupatiastra
.

‘The weapon is armed, Lord Neelkanth,’ said Tara.

Shiva cast an expressionless look at an unhappy Gopal and then turned back towards Tara. ‘Let’s go.’

It was the fourth hour of the second prahar, just a couple of hours before Devagiri was to be destroyed. Veerini knocked on Parvateshwar’s door. There was no answer. Parvateshwar and Anandmayi were probably alone at home.

Veerini pushed open the door and stepped into the house. She walked past the lobby into the central courtyard.

‘General!’ called out Veerini.

No response.

‘General!’ said Veerini again, a little louder this time. ‘It is I, the Queen of Meluha.’

‘Your Highness!’

Veerini glanced up to see a surprised Parvateshwar looking down from the balcony on the top floor. His hair was dishevelled and an
angvastram
had been hastily thrown over his shoulders.

‘My apologies if I have come at a bad time, General.’

‘Not at all, Your Highness,’ said Parvateshwar.

‘It’s just that we don’t have much time left,’ said Veerini. ‘There is something I needed to tell you.’

‘Please give me a moment, Your Highness. I’ll be down shortly.’

‘Of course,’ said Veerini.

Veerini walked into the large waiting room next to the courtyard, settled on a comfortable chair and waited. A few minutes later Parvateshwar, clad in a spotless white dhoti and
angvastram
, his hair neatly in place, walked into the room. Behind him was his wife, Anandmayi, also clad in white, the colour of purity.

Veerini rose. ‘Please accept my apologies for disturbing you.’

‘Not at all, Your Highness,’ said Parvateshwar. ‘Please be seated.’

Veerini resumed her seat, as Parvateshwar and Anandmayi sat next to her.

‘What did you want to talk about, Your Highness?’ asked Parvateshwar.

Veerini seemed to hesitate. Then she looked at Anandmayi and Parvateshwar with a smile. ‘I wanted to thank you.’

‘Thank us?’ asked a surprised Parvateshwar, casting a look at Anandmayi before turning back to Veerini. ‘Thank us for what, Your Highness?’

‘For keeping the legacy of Devagiri alive,’ said Veerini.

Parvateshwar and Anandmayi remained silent, their expressions reflecting their confusion.

‘Devagiri is not just a physical manifestation,’ said Veerini, waving her hand around. ‘Devagiri exists in its knowledge, its philosophies and its ideologies. You have managed to keep that alive by saving our intellectuals.’

An embarrassed Parvateshwar didn’t know how to react. How could he openly acknowledge having broken the law to save the scientists who worked at the Somras factory? ‘Your Highness, I didn’t...’

Veerini raised her hand. ‘Your conduct has been exemplary all your life, Lord Parvateshwar. Don’t spoil it by lying on your last day.’

Parvateshwar smiled.

‘The people you’ve saved are not merely the repositories of the knowledge of Somras, but also of the accumulated knowledge of our great land. They are the custodians of our philosophies, of our ideologies. They will keep our legacy alive. For that, Devagiri and Meluha will forever be grateful to you.’

‘Thank you, Your Highness,’ said Anandmayi, accepting the gratitude on behalf of her discomfited husband.

‘It’s bad enough that the both of you are dying for my husband’s sins,’ said Veerini. ‘It would have been really terrible had Maharishi Bhrigu and our intellectuals suffered for it as well.’

‘I think what’s really unfair is your suffering for your husband’s sins, Your Highness,’ said Anandmayi. ‘Your husband may not have been a good emperor, but you have been an excellent queen.’

‘No, that’s not true. If it were, I would have stood up to my husband instead of standing by him.’

They sat quietly together for a moment, then Veerini straightened her shoulders and rose to leave. ‘Time grows short,’ she said, ‘and there are preparations we still have to make for our final journey. Thank you, both of you, and let us say our farewells. For one last time.’