The Secret of the Nagas (2 page)

Acknowledgements

The first book of the Shiva Trilogy, The Immortals of Meluha, was surprisingly well received. To be honest, I felt the pressure of trying to match up to the first book with The Secret of the Nagas. I don’t know if I have succeeded. But I have had a great time bringing the second chapter in Shiva’s grand adventure to you. I would like to take a minute to acknowledge those who made this journey possible for me.

Lord Shiva, my God, my Leader, my Saviour. I have been trying to decipher why He blessed an undeserving person like me with this beautiful story. I don’t have an answer as yet.

My father-in-law & a devoted Shiva Bhakt, the late Dr Manoj Vyas, who passed away just a few months before the release of this book. A man I intensely admired, he continues to live in my heart.

Preeti, my wife. The bedrock of my life. My closest advisor. Not just the wind beneath my wings, but the wings themselves.

My family: Usha, Vinay, Bhavna, Himanshu, Meeta, Anish, Donetta, Ashish, Shernaz, Smita, Anuj, Ruta. For their untiring support and love. Bhavna needs an additional mention for helping me with the copy editing. As does Donetta for building and maintaining my first website.

Sharvani Pandit, my editor. Stubborn and fiercely committed to the Shiva Trilogy. It’s an honour to work with her.

Rashmi Pusalkar, the designer of this book’s cover. A fine artist, a magician. She is headstrong and always delivers.

Gautam Padmanabhan, Paul Vinay Kumar, Renuka Chatterjee, Satish Sundaram, Anushree Banerjee, Vipin Vijay Manisha Sobhrajani and the fantastic team at Westland, my publishers. For their hard work, drive and supreme belief in the Shiva Trilogy.

Anuj Bahri, my agent. He has been a friend and has supported me when I needed it the most. And if I connect the dots of my serendipitous journey into writing, I must also thank Sandipan Deb, who introduced me to Anuj.

Chandan Kowli, the photographer for the cover. Talented & brilliant, he shot the required photograph perfectly. Chintan Sareen, for creating the snake in CG and Julien Dubois for assisting him. Prakesh Gor, for the make-up. Sagar Pusalkar, for the system work. They have truly created magic.

Sangram Surve, Shalini Iyer and the team at Think Why Not, the advertising & digital marketing agency for the book. It is a pleasure to work with these marketing geniuses.

Kawal Shoor and Yogesh Pradhan for their good advice during the formulation of the initial marketing plan. They helped me get my thoughts together on how the book should be marketed.

And last, but certainly not the least, you the reader. For accepting my first book with open arms. Your support has left me humbled. I hope I don’t disappoint you with this second installment of the Shiva Trilogy. Everything that you may like in this book is the blessing of Lord Shiva. Everything that you don’t like is due to my inability to do justice to that blessing.

The Shiva Trilogy

Shiva! The Mahadev. The God of Gods. Destroyer of Evil. Passionate lover. Fierce warrior. Consummate dancer. Charismatic leader. All-powerful, yet incorruptible. A quick wit, accompanied by an equally quick and fearsome temper.

Over the centuries, no foreigner who came to India -conqueror, merchant, scholar, ruler, traveller — believed that such a great man could possibly have existed in reality. They assumed that he must have been a mythical God, whose existence was possible only in the realms of human imagination. Unfortunately, this belief became our received wisdom.

But what if we are wrong? What if Lord Shiva was not a figment of a rich imagination, but a person of flesh and blood? Like you and me. A man who rose to become godlike because of his karma. That is the premise of the Shiva Trilogy, which interprets the rich mythological heritage of ancient India, blending fiction with historical fact.

This work is therefore a tribute to Lord Shiva and the lesson that his life is to us. A lesson lost in the depths of time and ignorance. A lesson, that all of us can rise to be better people. A lesson, that there exists a potential god in every single human being. All we have to do is listen to ourselves.

The Immortals of Meluha
was the first book in the trilogy that chronicles the journey of this extraordinary hero. You are holding the second book,
The Secret of the Nagas
, in your hands. One more book is to follow:
The Oath of the Vayuputras
.

Note from the Author

The Secret of the Nagas is revealed from this page forth. This is the second book of the Shiva Trilogy and begins from the moment where its prequel, The Immortals of Meluha, ended. While I believe that you can enjoy this book by itself, perhaps, you may enjoy it more if you read The Immortals of Meluha first. In case you have already read The Immortals of Meluha, please ignore this message.

I hope you enjoy reading this book as much as I have loved writing it.

Also, there are many people from various different religions who write in to me, asking whether I believe that Lord Shiva is superior to other Gods. If I may, I would like to repeat my response here. There is a lovely Sanskrit line in the Rig Veda which captures the essence of my belief.

Ekam Sat Vipra Bahudha Vadanti
.

Truth is one, though the sages know it as many
.

God is one, though different religions approach Him differently
.

Call Him Shiva, Vishnu, Allah, Jesus or any other form of God that you believe in
.

Our paths may be different. Our destination is the same
.

Before the Beginning

The boy was running as fast as his feet could carry him, the frost-bitten toe sending shards of icy pain up his leg. The woman’s plea kept ringing in his ears: ‘Help me. Please help me!’

He refused to slow down, sprinting towards his village. And then, he was yanked effortlessly by a large hairy arm. He was dangling in the air, desperately trying to get a foothold. The boy could hear the monster’s sickening laugh as he toyed with him. Then, the other grotesque arm spun him around and held him tight.

The boy was shocked into stillness. The body was that of the hairy monster, but the face was of the beautiful woman he had just fled away from moments ago. The mouth opened, but the sound that emanated was not a mellifluous feminine one, but a blood-curdling roar.

‘You enjoyed this, didn’t you? You enjoyed my distress at being tortured, didn’t you? You ignored my pleas, didn’t you? Now this face will haunt you for the rest of your life!’

Then a grotesque arm holding a short sword came up from nowhere and decapitated the gorgeous head.

‘Noooooooo!’ screamed the little boy, snapping out of his dream.

He looked around his straw bed, disoriented. It was late evening. A little bit of sunshine had made its way into the otherwise dark hut. A small fire was dying out near the door. It suddenly burst into flames with a fresh breath of oxygen as a person rushed into the tiny room.

‘Shiva? What happened? Are you alright, my son?’

The boy looked up, completely bewildered. He felt his mother’s hand wrap itself around him and pull his tired head down to her bosom. He heard her soothing voice, sympathetic and understanding. ‘It’s all right, my child. I am here. I am here.’

The boy felt the fear release from his taut body as his eyes shed long held back tears.

‘What is it, my son? The same nightmare?’

The boy shook his head. The tears turned into an angrier deluge.

‘It’s not your fault. What could you have done, son? He was three times larger than you. A grown man.’

The boy didn’t say anything, but stiffened. The mother continued to gently run her hand over his face, wiping the tears away. ‘You would have been killed.’

The boy suddenly jerked back.

‘Then i should have been killed! I deserved it!’

The mother was shocked into silence. He was a good son. He had never raised his voice at her before. Never. She quickly set this thought aside as she reached out to soothe his face. ‘Don’t say that again, Shiva. What would happen to me if you died?’

Shiva curled his small fist, banging it against his forehead. He kept at it till his mother pulled his fist away. An angry, reddish-black mark had formed right between his eyebrows.

The mother held his arms down again, pulling him towards her. Then she said something her son was not prepared to hear. ‘Listen, my child! You yourself had said that she didn’t fight back. She could have reached for his knife and stabbed him, couldn’t she?’