by Amish
Gopal smiled. ‘From what I’ve heard of the story, he wasn’t trained.’
Shiva’s eyes widened with amazement. ‘He must have been very gifted.’
‘Oh, he was talented. But not in gardening!’
Shiva laughed. ‘What was his name?’
‘Nobody knows his original name. But he called himself Sargon.’
‘And he conquered the whole of Mesopotamia?’
‘Yes, and surprisingly quickly at that. But it did not satiate his ambition. He went on to conquer neighbouring kingdoms as well, including Elam.’
‘That would have brought him to the borders of Pariha.’
‘Not exactly, my friend. But uncomfortably close.’
‘Why didn’t he move farther east?’
‘I don’t know. Neither he nor his successors did, though. But the Vayuputras were troubled enough to offer anonymous assistance to Elam. The Elamites were able to rebel because of this support, and the conquest of the Mesopotamians did not last for too long.’
‘King Sargon seems like a very interesting man.’
‘He was. He challenged the entire world, and even fate itself. He was so feisty that he dared to name his empire after the water-carrier who was his adopted father.’
‘His father was a water-carrier?’
‘Yes, named Akki. So they called themselves the Empire of the Akkadians.’
‘And does this empire still exist?’
‘No.’
‘That’s sad. I would have loved to meet these remarkable Akkadians.’
‘The people of Elam would have thought very differently, Lord Neelkanth.’
‘The soldiers are bored and restless,’ said Ganesh. ‘They have been mobilised, but there has been no action, no battle.’
Kartik and Ganesh had just entered Sati’s chamber and were happy to find Kali with their mother.
‘I was discussing just that, with didi,’ said Kali. ‘The men are spending their time gambling and drinking to keep themselves occupied. Training is suffering because they don’t see the point of it when there is hardly any chance of combat in the near future.’
‘This is the time when stupid incidents occur which can blow up into serious problems,’ said Sati.
‘Let’s keep them busy,’ suggested Kartik. ‘Let’s organise some animal hunts in the forests around the city. We know that the Meluhan army has still not moved out of Karachapa, so there is no risk in letting our soldiers out in large groups. Hunting will give them some sense of action.’
‘Good idea,’ agreed Kali. ‘We can also use the excess meat to organise feasts for the citizens of Lothal. It will help assuage some of their irritation with having to host such a large army.’
‘The excitement and the blood-rush will also prevent boredom from creeping into our troops,’ said Ganesh.
‘I agree,’ said Sati. ‘I’ll issue the orders immediately.’
It was nearly a month and a half since they had started their journey from the secret lagoon off the Narmada delta. Shiva’s ship came to anchor off a desolate coast on the Jam Sea. There didn’t seem to be any habitation of any kind at all; in fact it appeared as though this land had never been disturbed by humans. Shiva was not surprised. Just like the Vasudevs, the Vayuputras were secretive about their existence. He did not expect a welcoming port of landing. But he did expect some secret symbol, something like the emblematic Vasudev flame on the banks of the Chambal near Ujjain.
Then he thought he detected something. The coast was lined by a thick row of tall bushes, maybe three or four metres high. From the distance of the anchored ship, it seemed like these bushes had reddish-orange fruit hanging in abundance. The shrubs were covered with small dark-green leaves, except at the top, where it was bright red. These bright red leaves combined with the reddish-orange fruit to give the impression that the bush was on fire.
A burning bush...
Shiva immediately turned and began climbing the main mast, all the way up to the crow’s nest. Once there, the symbol became obvious. The bushes, when combined with the white sand and brownish rocks, came together to form a symbol that Shiva recognised only too well: Fravashi, the holy flame, the feminine spirit.
Shiva came down to find Gopal standing below.
‘Did you find something, my friend?’ asked Gopal.
‘I saw the holy flame; the pure being. I saw the Fravashi.’
Gopal was astonished at first, but not for long. ‘Of course! Lord Manobhu... He would have told you about Fravashi.’
‘Yes.’
‘It’s a symbol of the faith of Lord Rudra’s people. The Fravashi represents pure spirits, the angels. They exist in large numbers, their scriptures say in the tens of thousands. They send forth human souls into this world and support them in the eternal battle between Good and Evil. They are also believed to have assisted God in creating the universe.’
Shiva nodded. ‘The Vasudevs believe in the Fravashi as well, I assume.’
‘We respect the Fravashi. But it is a Parihan symbol.’
‘Then why do you have a Fravashi at the entrance to your land?’
Gopal frowned. ‘A Fravashi symbol? Where?’
‘At the clearing on the Chambal, from where we communicated with you through clapping signals.’
‘Oh!’ smiled Gopal, as understanding dawned upon him. ‘My friend, we have a symbolic fire as well. But we don’t call it Fravashi. We call it Agni, the God of Fire.’
‘But the symbol is almost exactly like the Fravashi.’
‘Yes, it is. I’m aware that the Parihans give enormous importance to fire rituals. So do we Indians. The first hymn of the first chapter in the Rig Veda is dedicated to the Fire God, Agni. The importance of the element of fire is, I believe, common across all religions of the world.’
‘Fire is the beginning of human civilisation.’
‘It is the beginning of all life, my friend. It is the source of all energy. For one way of looking at the stars is to see them as great balls of fire.’
Shiva smiled.
A sailor walked up to the two men. ‘My Lords, the rowboat has been lowered. We are ready.’
The rowboat was a hundred metres from the coast when a tall man appeared from behind the bushes. He wore a long, brownish-black cloak and held what looked like a staff. Or, it could have been a spear. Shiva couldn’t be sure. He reached for his sword.
Gopal reached out to stay Shiva’s hand. ‘It’s all right, my friend.’
Shiva spoke without taking his eyes off the stranger. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes, he is a Parihan. He has come to guide us.’
Shiva relaxed his grip on the sword, but kept his hand close to the hilt.
He saw the stranger reach into the bushes and tug at what looked like ropes. Shiva immediately caught his breath and reached for his sword once again.
To his surprise though, four horses emerged from behind the thick row of bushes. Three of them were not carrying anything, clearly ready for their new mounts. The fourth was loaded with a massive sack. Perhaps, it was carrying provisions. Shiva moved his hand away from his sword and let it relax.
The stranger was a friend.
Chapter 35
Journey to Pariha
‘I’m glad that the Vayuputras have sent someone to receive us,’ said Gopal.
His sailors were offloading the provisions from the rowboat. Some of the luggage would be tied onto the three horses that would be mounted by Shiva, Gopal and the Parihan, while the rest would be loaded onto the severely-burdened fourth horse.
‘How can the Vayuputras ignore the Chief Vasudev, My Lord?’ asked the Parihan, bowing low towards Gopal. ‘We received your message from the Vasudev pandit of Lothal well in time. You are our honoured guest. My name is Kurush. I will be your guide to our city, Pariha.’
Shiva observed Kurush intently. His long brownish-black cloak could not hide the fact that he carried a sword. Shiva wondered as to how the Parihan would draw his sword quickly in an e
mergency if it lay encumbered within the folds of his cloak.
The man was unnaturally fair-skinned, not seen often in the hot plains of India. While one may have expected this to make the Parihan look pale and unattractive, this was not so. The sharp long nose, combined with a full beard somehow enhanced the beauty of the man while giving him the look of a warrior nevertheless. The Parihan wore his hair long, something that was in common with the Indians. On his head was perched a square white hat, made of cotton. For Shiva, the most interesting aspect was his beard. It was just like that of Lord Rudra’s image in the revered Vishwanath temple at Kashi; the distinctive beard of the previous Mahadev had many strands of hair curled into independent clumps.
‘Thank you, Kurush,’ said Gopal. ‘Please allow me the pleasure of introducing the long-awaited Neelkanth himself, Lord Shiva.’
Kurush turned towards Shiva and nodded curtly. Clearly he was one amongst those Vayuputras who considered Shiva a usurper; a Neelkanth who had not been authorised by his tribe. Shiva did not say anything. He knew that the only opinion that mattered was that of their chief, Mithra.
Shiva mounted his horse, then turned and waved at the sailors as they rowed back to their ship. They intended to sail a little farther and anchor in a hidden cove. After a waiting period of two months, the captain would send out a rowboat once every two days to the spot where Gopal and Shiva had met Kurush, to check if they had returned.
Kurush had already begun riding in front, while also holding the reins of the horse bearing the provisions, when Gopal and Shiva kicked their horses into a trot. With the Parihan safely out of earshot, Shiva turned to Gopal. ‘Why does the name Kurush sound familiar?’
‘Kurush is sometimes also known as Kuru,’ said Gopal. ‘And Kuru, I’m sure you’re aware, was a great Indian Emperor in ancient times.’
‘So which name came first? Kuru or Kurush?’
‘You mean who influenced whom?’ asked Gopal. ‘Did India influence Pariha or was it the other way around?’
‘Yes, that’s what I want to know.’
‘I don’t know. It was probably a bit of both. We learnt from their noble culture and they learnt from ours. Of course, we can go on about who learnt how much and from whom, but that is nothing but our ego, showing our desperation to prove that our culture is superior to others. That is a foolish quest. It is best to learn from everyone, regardless of the cultural source of that learning.’
The Parihan rode ahead in solitary splendour. They had been travelling for a week now, and Kurush had determinedly remained uncommunicative, giving monosyllabic answers to Shiva’s companionable queries. The Neelkanth had finally stopped talking to him.
‘Did the Lord grow up here?’ Shiva asked Gopal.
‘Yes, Lord Rudra was born around this area. He came to India when we needed him.’
‘He was from the land of fairies. That would obviously make him our guardian spirit as well.’
‘Actually, I believe he wasn’t born in Pariha, but somewhere close to this region.’
‘Where?’
‘Anshan.’
‘Doesn’t anshan mean hunger in India?’
Gopal smiled. ‘It means the same here as well.’
‘They named their land “hunger”? Was it so bad?’
‘Look around you. This is a harsh, mountainous desert. Life is perennially difficult here. Unless...’
‘Unless what?’
‘Unless great men are occasionally able to tame this land.’
‘And Lord Rudra’s tribe proved to be such men?’
‘Yes, they set up the kingdom of Elam.’
‘Elam? You mean the same one that the Akkadians conquered?’
‘Yes.’
‘That would explain the Vayuputra support, wouldn’t it? The Elamites were the people of Lord Rudra.’
‘No, that’s not the reason why. The Vayuputras supported the Elamites because they genuinely felt the need for a buffer state between them and the Mesopotamians. In fact, Lord Rudra had made it very clear to his fellow Elamites: they could either join the Vayuputra tribe, giving up all links with any other identity that they had previously cherished, or they could choose to remain Elamites. Those who chose to follow Lord Rudra are the Vayuputras of today.’
‘So Pariha is not where Anshan used to be.’
‘No. Anshan is the capital of the Elamite kingdom. Pariha exists farther to the east.’
‘It appears to me that the Vayuputras accepted other outsiders as well, and not just the Elamites. My uncle was a Tibetan.’
‘Yes, Lord Manobhu was one. The Vayuputras accept members solely on merit, not by virtue of birth. There are many Elamites who try to become Vayuputras but do not succeed. The only people who were accepted in large numbers, because they were refugees, were a tribe from our country.’
‘From India?’
‘Yes, Lord Rudra felt personally guilty about what he had done to them. So he took them under his protection and gave them refuge in his land, amongst the Vayuputras.’
‘Who were these people?’
‘The Asuras.’
Before Shiva could react to this revelation, Kurush turned and addressed Gopal. ‘My Lord, this is a good place to have some lunch. The path ahead goes through a narrow mountain pass. Shall we take a break here?’
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 Panditji, 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?’
S
hiva 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.’
Chapter 36
The Land of Fairies
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.
