The Oath of The Vayuputras

by Amish

  Bhrigu sighed. He had used all the weapons that he had manufactured. The only mystery was whether they had achieved their purpose; whether the Neelkanth had been assassinated. Talking to Daksha was an exercise in futility. He seemed to be in a state of shock since the rupture of his relations with his daughter. Bhrigu had sent off another ship, manned by men drawn from Dilipa’s army, to the mouth of the Godavari to investigate the matter. But it would be months before he knew what had happened.

  ‘Anything else, My Lord?’ asked the attendant.

  Bhrigu dismissed her with an absent-minded wave. Perhaps the job was done. Maybe the Neelkanth was no more. But it was also possible that Bhrigu’s ships had failed. Even worse, the Neelkanth may have been persuaded by the Nagas and was plotting to turn the people against the Somras. Nothing was certain till he received news of the five ships he had sent earlier to attack Shiva’s convoy. For now, much as he disliked living in Devagiri, he had no choice but to wait. He had to stay till he knew the Somras was safe. He believed India’s future was at stake.

  Bhrigu took a deep breath and went back into a meditative trance.

  Shiva’s convoy had covered ground quickly after crossing the Tapi and was waiting at the edge of another secret lagoon, while the Nagas prepared to set sail. Beyond the floating grove guarding this lagoon, flowed the mighty Narmada, mandated by Lord Manu as the southern border of the Sapt Sindhu, the land of the seven rivers.

  ‘How much farther, dada?’

  ‘Not too far, Kartik. Just a few more weeks,’ answered Ganesh. ‘We will sail east up the Narmada for a few days, then march on foot through the passes of the great Vindhya Mountains till we reach the Chambal River. We would then have to sail for only a few days down the Chambal to reach Ujjain.’

  Sati watched the sailors pull the gangway plank towards the rudimentary dock, preparing the ship for loading.

  Krittika nudged her horse so it would trot up to Sati’s. ‘I wish Queen Kali had accompanied us, My Lady.’

  Sati turned to Krittika. ‘I know. But she is a queen. She has many responsibilities in Panchavati.’

  Further conversation was interrupted by the ship’s gangway plank landing on the dock with a loud thud.

  Parvateshwar, Anandmayi, Bhagirath and Ayurvati were dining together in the late afternoon. They had just entered the first of five clearings on the Dandakaranya road from Panchavati. The road led to the hidden lagoon on the Madhumati in Branga. Accompanied by the convoy of sixteen hundred soldiers that had set out with Shiva more than a year ago, they were marching back to Kashi to await Shiva’s return.

  Bhagirath looked at the five paths in wonder. Only one of these was correct while the others were decoys that would lead trespassers to their doom. ‘These Nagas are obsessive about security.’

  Anandmayi looked up. ‘Can we blame them? Do not forget that it was this attitude that saved our lives when those ships attacked us on the Godavari.’

  ‘True,’ said Bhagirath. ‘The Nagas will no doubt prove to be good allies. Their loyalty to the Neelkanth isn’t suspect, though the reasons might well be. When the moment of truth is upon us, all will have to answer a simple question: Will they fight the world for the Neelkanth? I know I will.’

  Anandmayi’s eyes flashed as she looked at Parvateshwar and then back at Bhagirath, chiding him. ‘Get back to your food, little brother.’

  Parvateshwar looked at Anandmayi with a tortured expression. ‘I don’t think the Parmatma will be so unkind to me. He could not have made me wait for more than a century to find my living God, only to force me to choose between my country and him. I’m sure the Almighty will find a way to ensure that Meluha and the Lord Neelkanth are not on opposite sides.’

  Parvateshwar’s sad smile told Anandmayi he himself did not believe that. She touched her husband’s shoulder gently.

  Bhagirath played with his roti absent-mindedly. He was beginning to believe they could not count on Parvateshwar. That would be a huge loss for the Neelkanth’s army. Parvateshwar’s strategic abilities had the capacity to turn the tide in any war.

  Ayurvati looked at Parvateshwar with sympathy. She could identify with his inner conflict. In her case though, a decision had emerged that sat comfortably in her heart. Her emperor had committed heinous acts which dishonoured Meluha. This was no longer the country she had loved and admired all her life. She knew in her heart that Lord Ram would not have condoned the immorality that Meluha had descended into, under Daksha’s watch. Her path was clear: in a fight between Meluha and Shiva, she would choose the Neelkanth. For he would set things right in Meluha as well.

  The Naga ship was anchored close to the Chambal shore. Shiva, Sati, Ganesh and Kartik climbed down rope ladders to the large boat that had been tied to the ship’s anchor line. Brahaspati, Nandi and Parshuram followed them, accompanied by ten Naga soldiers.

  When everyone had disembarked, they began to row ashore. The Vasudevs being even more secretive than the Nagas, Shiva did not expect to find any sign of habitation close to the river.

  Almost touching the river bank, a wall of dense foliage blocked the view beyond. Weeds had spread over the gentle Chambal waters, making rowing a back-breaking task. Ganesh navigated the boat towards a slender clearing between two immense palm trees. Shiva could sense something unnatural about the clearing, but couldn’t put his finger on it. He turned towards Kartik, who was staring at the clearing as well.

  ‘Baba, look at the trees behind the clearing,’ said Kartik. ‘You’ll have to bend down to my level.’

  As Shiva bent low the image became clear. The trees behind the clearing were organised unnaturally, given the dense, uncontrolled growth surrounding it. Placed equidistant, they seemed to grow in height as one looked farther away. This was because the ground itself sloped upwards in a gentle gradient. It was obviously not a natural hillock. A majority of the trees behind the clearing were the Gulmohur, their flaming orange flowers suggestive of fire. Shiva blinked at what appeared to be an optical illusion. He suddenly stood up, rocking the boat as Sati and Ganesh reached out to hold him steady. The Gulmohur trees had been placed in a specific pattern that was visible from a certain distance as one placed oneself directly in front of the small clearing between the twin palms. It was in the shape of a flame; a specific symbol that Shiva recognised.

  ‘Fravashi,’ whispered Shiva.

  Surprised, Ganesh asked, ‘How do you know that term, baba?’

  Shiva looked at Ganesh and then back at the Gulmohur trees. The pattern had disappeared. Shiva sat down and turned towards Ganesh. ‘How do you know that term?’

  ‘It’s a Vayuputra term. It represents the feminine spirit of Lord Rudra, which has the power to assist us in doing what is right. We are free to either accept it or reject it. But the spirit never refuses to help. Never.’

  Shiva smiled as he began to understand his ancient memories.

  ‘Who told you about Fravashi, baba?’ asked Ganesh again.

  ‘My uncle Manobhu,’ said Shiva. ‘It was among the many concepts and symbols that he made me learn. He said it would help me when the time came.’

  ‘Who was he?’

  ‘I thought I knew,’ said Shiva. ‘But I’m beginning to wonder if I knew him well enough.’

  The conversation came to a halt as the boat hit the banks. Two Naga soldiers jumped out and pulled the boat farther up, onto dry land. Tugging hard on the line, they tied the craft to a conveniently placed tree stump. The landing party quickly disembarked. Kartik surveyed the palms that marked the clearing. He turned towards Ganesh, who was standing at the centre of the clearing.

  ‘Can everyone stand behind me, please,’ requested Ganesh. ‘I do not want anybody between me and the palm trees.’

  The others moved away as Ganesh closed his eyes to drown out the distractions surrounding him and find his concentration.

  Ganesh breathed deeply and clapped hard repeatedly in an irregular beat. The claps were set in the Vasudev code and were being transmitted to the
gatekeeper of Ujjain. This is Ganesh, the Naga lord of the people, requesting permission to enter your great city with our entourage.

  Shiva heard the soft sounds of claps reverberating back. Ujjain’s gatekeeper had answered. Welcome, Lord Ganesh. This is an unexpected honour. Are you on your way to Swadweep?

  No. We have come to meet with Lord Gopal, the great chief Vasudev.

  Was there something specific you needed to discuss, Lord Ganesh?

  Clearly, the Vasudevs were still not comfortable with the Nagas, despite the fact that they had reached out to Ganesh for the Naga medicines to help with the birth of Kartik. The Ujjain gatekeeper was trying to parry off Ganesh’s request while trying not to insult him.

  Ganesh continued to clap rhythmically. It is not I who seeks Lord Gopal, honoured gatekeeper. It is the Lord Neelkanth.

  Silence for a few moments. Then the sound of claps in quick succession. Is the Lord Neelkanth at the palm clearing with you?

  He is standing with me. He can hear you.

  Silence once again, before the gatekeeper responded. Lord Ganesh, Lord Gopal himself is coming to the clearing. We will be honoured to host your convoy. It will take us a day to get there; please bear with us till then.

  Thank you.

  Ganesh rubbed his palms together and looked at Shiva. ‘It will take a day for them to get here, baba. We can wait in our ship till they arrive.’

  ‘Have you ever been to Ujjain?’ asked Shiva.

  ‘No. I have met the Vasudevs just once at this very clearing.’

  ‘All right, let’s get back to our ship.’

  ‘Are you telling me Lord Bhrigu visited Ayodhya eight times in the last year?’ asked a surprised Surapadman.

  The crown prince of Magadh maintained his own espionage network, independent of the notoriously inefficient Royal Magadh spy service. His man had just informed him of the goings-on in the Ayodhya royal household.

  ‘Yes, Your Highness,’ answered the spy. ‘Furthermore, Emperor Dilipa himself has visited Meluha twice in the same period.’

  ‘That, I am aware of,’ said Surapadman. ‘But the news you bring throws new light on it. Perhaps Dilipa was not going to meet that fool Daksha after all. Maybe he was going to meet Lord Bhrigu. But why would the great sage be interested in Dilipa?’

  ‘That I do not know, Your Highness. But I’m sure you have heard of Emperor Dilipa’s newly-acquired youthful appearance. Perhaps Lord Bhrigu has been giving him the Somras?’

  Surapadman waved his hand dismissively. ‘The Somras is easily available to Swadweepan royalty. Dilipa doesn’t need to plead with a maharishi for it. I know Dilipa has been using the Somras for years. But when one has abused the body as much as he has, even the Somras would find it difficult to delay his ageing. I suspect Lord Bhrigu is giving him medicines that are even more potent than the Somras.’

  ‘But why would Lord Bhrigu do that?’

  ‘That’s the mystery. Try to find out. Any news of the Neelkanth?’

  ‘No, Your Highness. He remains in Naga territory.’

  Surapadman rubbed his chin and looked out of the window of his palace chambers along the Ganga. His gaze seemed to stretch beyond the river into the jungle that extended to the south; the forests where his brother Ugrasen had been killed by the Nagas. He cursed Ugrasen silently. He knew the truth of his brother’s murder. Addicted to bull-racing, Ugrasen had indulged in increasingly reckless bets. Desperate to get good child-riders for his bulls, he used to scour tribal forests, kidnapping children at will. On one such expedition he had been killed by a Naga, who was trying to protect a hapless mother and her young boy. What he could not understand though was why a Naga would risk his life to save a forest woman and her child.

  But the death had narrowed Surapadman’s choices. The Neelkanth would lead his followers against whoever he decided was Evil. A war was inevitable. There would be those who would oppose him. Surapadman did not care much about this war against Evil. All he wanted was to ensure that Magadh would fight on the side opposed to Ayodhya. He intended to use wartime chaos to establish Magadh as the overlord of Swadweep and himself as emperor. But Ugrasen’s killing had deepened his father King Mahendra’s distrust of the Nagas into unadulterated hatred. Surapadman knew Mahendra would force him to fight against whichever side the Nagas allied with. His only hope lay in the Nagas and the Emperor of Ayodhya choosing the same side.

  Kanakhala waited patiently in the chambers of Maharishi Bhrigu at Daksha’s palace. The maharishi was in deep meditation. Though his chamber was in a palace, it was as simple and severe as his real home in a Himalayan cave. Bhrigu sat on the only piece of furniture in the room, a stone bed. Kanakhala therefore had no choice but to stand. Icy water had been sprinkled on the floor and the walls. The resultant cold and clammy dampness made her shiver slightly. She looked at the bowl of fruit at the far corner of the room on a small stand. The maharishi seemed to have eaten just one fruit over the previous three days. Kanakhala made a mental note to order fresh fruit to be brought in. An idol of Lord Brahma had been installed in an indentation in the wall. Kanakhala stared fixedly at the idol as she repeated the soft chanting of Bhrigu.

  Om Brahmaye Namah. Om Brahmaye Namah.

  Bhrigu opened his eyes and gazed at Kanakhala contemplatively before speaking. ‘Yes, my child?’

  ‘My Lord, a sealed letter has been delivered for you by bird courier. It has been marked as strictly confidential. Therefore, I thought it fit to bring it to you personally.’

  Bhrigu nodded politely and took the letter from Kanakhala without saying a word.

  ‘As instructed, we have also kept the pigeon with us. It can return to where it came from. Of course, this would not be possible if the ship has moved. Please let me know if you’d like to send a message back with the pigeon.’

  ‘Hmmm...’

  ‘Will that be all, My Lord?’ asked Kanakhala.

  ‘Yes. Thank you.’

  As Kanakhala shut the door behind her, Bhrigu broke the seal and opened the letter. Its contents were disappointing.

  My Lord, we have found some wreckage of our ships at the mouth of the Godavari. They have obviously been blown up. It is difficult to judge whether they were destroyed as a result of sabotage or an accident owing to the goods they carried. It is also difficult to say if all the ships were destroyed or if there are any survivors. Await further instructions.

  The words gave Bhrigu information without adding to his understanding of the situation. Not one of the five ships that he had sent to assassinate the Neelkanth and destroy Panchavati had returned or sent a message. The wreckage of at least some of the ships had been discovered, having drifted down the Godavari. Both the possible conclusions were disturbing: either the ships had been destroyed or some of them had been captured. Bhrigu could not afford to send another ship up the Godavari to try and dig deeper. He might end up gifting another well-built warship to the enemy just before the final war. Of course, there was also the possibility that the ships may have succeeded in their mission and had been destroyed subsequently. But Bhrigu simply could not be sure.

  Bhrigu would have to wait. Maybe an angry Neelkanth would emerge from the jungles of Dandak. He could rally his followers and attack those allied against him. If that did not happen then the sage would assume that the Neelkanth threat had passed.

  Bhrigu rang the bell, summoning the guard outside. He would send a message to the ship at the mouth of the Godavari with orders to return. He would also have to order Meluha and Ayodhya to prepare their armies for battle. Just in case.

  Chapter 6

  The City that Conquers Pride

  It was a full moon night. Shiva stood at the anchored ship’s balustrade as he looked into the dark expanse of forest on the Chambal’s banks. Deep in the distance was what seemed to be a massive hill made of pure black stone. Shiva had been observing that hill all evening. It was too smooth to be natural. Even more unusually, it had an inverted bowl-like structure at the top that was distinctly a
cupola. It was coloured a deeper hue of black as compared to the rest of the hill, which it was certainly not a part of.

  ‘It’s man-made, baba,’ said Kartik.

  Shiva, Ganesh and Brahaspati turned towards Kartik, who was crouching, looking at the bank of the river from a lower height. Shiva went down to the same level as Kartik. He observed the area behind the palm tree clearing; he could clearly see the pattern of the ancient Vayuputra image, Fravashi. As his eyes traced the path of the slope, he realised that had the incline continued, it would have ended at the very top of the black hill in the distance, at the cupola.

  Brahaspati spoke up. ‘The slope with the trees is probably the remnant of a very long ramp that was used to carry that stone cupola to the top of the hill.’

  Shiva smiled at the precise engineering skills of the Vasudevs. He had known his mysterious advisors for years. He looked forward to finally meeting their leader.

  Daksha gazed at the full moon reflected in the shimmering Saraswati waters. He was standing by the large window of his private palace chamber. He had increasingly isolated himself in the last few months, avoiding meeting people as far as possible. He was especially terrified of meeting Maharishi Bhrigu, convinced as he was, that the maharishi would read his mind and realise that it was Daksha who had foiled the attack on Panchavati in an attempt to save his beloved daughter.

  But this period of isolation had done wonders for Daksha and Veerini’s relationship. They were conversing, even confiding in each other once again, almost like the first few years of their marriage. Before Daksha had developed ambitions to become the ruler of Meluha.