by Amish
Kartik fell silent.
Ganesh pointed his finger threateningly towards Kartik. ‘Not one of those Somras-worshipping bastards will get out of here alive.’
‘Dada...’
‘Every single one of them will be killed; even if I have to kill them myself.’
Kartik fell silent.
Gopal sighed as he looked at Kali, Ganesh and Kartik. There was too much anger. He couldn’t figure out a way to save the Somras scientists from Ganesh and Kali’s rage. But at least he had managed to take the conversation away from the dangerous talk of using the Pashupatiastra. And maybe there was still hope that, over the next few hours, he would convince the Neelkanth’s family of the necessity of saving the Somras scientists.
Shiva had been sitting quietly in the icy tomb, holding Sati’s body. His eyes were sunken and expressionless, with no light of hope in them, with no reason to even exist. The blackish-red blotch on his brow was visibly throbbing; he was shivering due to the cold. A single droplet of fluid had escaped from Sati’s good eye, now closed, and ran down her face like a tear. There was an unearthly silence in the room, except for the soft hissing of the cold air being pumped in at regular intervals. A sudden sharp noise startled Shiva, perhaps from the bulls harnessed to the Meluhan cooling system.
He looked around with cold, emotionless eyes. There was nobody in the chamber. He looked down at his dead wife. He pulled her body close and kissed her gently on her forehead. Then he carefully placed her back on the ice.
Caressing her face tenderly, Shiva whispered, ‘Stay here, Sati. I’ll be back soon.’
Shiva jumped off the ice tower and walked up to the door of the inner chamber. As soon as he opened it, Ayurvati stood up. Accompanied by her medical team, she had been tending to Nandi and the other soldiers for the last twenty-four hours.
‘My Lord,’ said Ayurvati, her eyes red and swollen from accumulated misery and lack of sleep.
Shiva ignored her and continued walking. Ayurvati looked at Shiva with foreboding and terror. She had never seen the Neelkanth’s eyes look so hard and remote. He looked like he had gone beyond rage; beyond ruthlessness; beyond insanity.
Shiva opened the main door. He heard voices to his right. He turned to see his commanders in deep discussion. Tara was the first to notice him.
‘Lord Neelkanth,’ said Tara, immediately rising to her feet.
Shiva stared at her blankly for a few seconds, then took a deep breath and spoke evenly. ‘Tara, the Pashupatiastra trunk is in my ship. Bring it here.’
A panic-stricken Gopal rushed towards Shiva. He knew that Shiva hadn’t eaten in twenty-four hours. He hadn’t slept. He had been sitting on top of an inhumanly cold tower. Grief had practically unhinged him. He knew the Neelkanth wasn’t himself. ‘My friend... Listen to me. Don’t make a decision like this in haste.’
Shiva looked at Gopal, his face frozen.
‘I know you are angry, Neelkanth. But don’t do this. I know your good heart. You will repent it.’
Shiva turned around to walk back into the conference building. Gopal reached out and held Shiva’s arm, trying to pull him back.
‘Shiva,’ pleaded Gopal, ‘you’ve given your word to the Vayuputras. You’ve given your word to your uncle, Lord Mithra.’
Shiva gripped Gopal’s hand tightly and removed it from his arm.
‘Shiva, the power of this weapon is terrible and unpredictable,’ pleaded Gopal, grasping at any argument to stop this tragedy. ‘Even if the Pashupatiastra’s destruction is restricted to the inner circle, any attempt to destroy all three platforms of Devagiri will widen this circle. It will not just destroy Devagiri, it will also destroy all of us. Do you really want to kill your entire army, your family and your friends?’
‘Tell them to leave.’
Shiva’s voice was soft, barely audible. His eyes remained remote and unfocused, staring into space. Gopal paused for a moment, watching Shiva with a glimmer of hope. ‘Should I tell our people to leave? With the Pashupatiastra?’
Shiva did not move. There was no reaction on his face. ‘No. Tell the people of this city to leave. All except those who have protected or made the Somras, and those directly responsible for Sati’s death. For when I am done, there will be no more Daksha. There will be no more Somras. There will be no more Evil. It will be as if this place, this Evil, never existed. Nothing will live here, nothing will grow here, and no two stones will be left standing upon each other to show that there ever was a Devagiri. It all ends now.’
Gopal was grateful that at least the innocent people of Devagiri would be saved. But what about Lord Rudra’s law banning the use of daivi astras?
‘Shiva, the Pashupatiastra...’ whispered Gopal with hope.
Shiva stared at Gopal unemotionally and spoke in a voice that was eerily composed. ‘I will burn down this entire world.’
Gopal stared at Shiva with foreboding. The Neelkanth turned around and walked back into the building, to his Sati.
Tara rose.
‘Where are you going?’ whispered Brahaspati.
‘To get the Pashupatiastra,’ answered Tara softly.
‘You cannot! It will destroy us all!’
‘No, it won’t. These weapons can be triangulated in such a way that the devastation will remain confined within the city. We will not be affected if we remain more than five kilometres away.’
Tara began to walk away.
Brahaspati pulled her back and whispered urgently, ‘What are you doing? You know this is wrong. I feel for Shiva, but the Pashupatiastra...’
Tara stared at Brahaspati without a hint of doubt in her eyes. ‘Lord Ram’s sacred laws have been shamelessly broken. The Neelkanth deserves his vengeance.’
‘Of course, he does,’ said Brahaspati, meeting her gaze without flinching. ‘But not with the Pashupatiastra.’
‘Don’t you feel his pain? What kind of friend are you?’
‘Tara, I had once considered doing something wrong. I had wanted to assassinate a man who was to duel Sati. Shiva stopped me. He stopped me from taking a sin upon my soul. If I have to be a true friend to him, I have to stop him from tarnishing his soul. I can’t let him use the Pashupatiastra.’
‘His soul is already dead, Brahaspati. It’s lying on top of that ice tower,’ said Tara.
‘I know, but...’
Tara pulled her hand away from Brahaspati. ‘You expect him to fight in accordance with the laws when his enemies have not. They have taken everything from him, his life, his soul, his entire reason for existence. He deserves his vengeance.’
Chapter 49
Debt to the Neelkanth
Shiva’s army had been divided into three groups, led by Bhagirath, Chandraketu and Maatali. Each group was stationed outside the gates of the three platforms of Devagiri. Maatali’s troops blocked the Svarna platform, Chandraketu’s forces guarded the exit from the Rajat platform and Bhagirath’s troops were at the steps of the Tamra platform. Shiva’s instructions had been followed. Ignoring Kali’s protests, Shiva’s forces informed those within the city that they would be allowed to leave, all except those Kshatriyas who had fought to protect the Somras and those Brahmins who had worked to create the Somras. Daksha and his personal bodyguards, including Vidyunmali, had also been specifically excluded from the amnesty. An evacuation had begun. What amazed the Chandravanshis among Shiva’s troops was the number of citizens who chose to stay on and die with Devagiri.
There were many who came in a disciplined line to the city gates, said a dignified goodbye to their families and walked silently back to their homes to await death. There was no acrimony; no fighting at the gates or attempts to save the city. Not even melodramatic farewells.
Gopal and Kartik had stationed themselves at the Tamra platform, along with Bhagirath’s troops. The soldiers on this side were primarily Brangas. A tired Bhagirath, having just supervised the construction of the perimeter barricades, rejoined them.
The Ayodhyan prince nodded towards the odd
movements of citizens at the gate, half of them leaving and the other half returning to the city. ‘What’s going on here?’
Kartik dropped his eyes and said nothing, while Gopal’s eyes welled up.
‘It is becoming a movement amongst the Meluhans,’ said the chief of the Vasudevs. ‘An act of honour. A cause that demands your life. Stay and die with your city. Have your soul purified by allowing yourself to be killed by the Neelkanth...’ He stopped himself, obviously overcome with emotion.
Bhagirath raised his eyebrows. ‘What do you mean?’
Gopal gestured towards the crowd, where yet another woman had said goodbye to a couple, before calmly turning back towards the city. ‘See for yourself,’ he said.
Bhagirath paused for a moment, brows knitted, to study Gopal’s face before turning back to the woman.
‘Excuse me, madam,’ Bhagirath called out to her, and she stopped, turning to face him. ‘Why are you returning to the city? Why are you not evacuating with the others?’
The folds of her angvastram wafted gently in the breeze around her. She had a kind face with dark, quiet eyes and a soft voice. She spoke calmly, as if she was discussing the weather. ‘I am a Meluhan. To be Meluhan is not about the country you live in – it is about how you live, what you believe in. What is the purpose of a long life, if not to strive for something higher? Lord Ram’s most sacred law has been broken. We have fallen. All that we are has already been destroyed. What can we now hope to strive for in this life, if this is our karma?’
Bhagirath couldn’t believe his ears.
The Meluhan woman continued. ‘I believe in the Neelkanth. I have waited for him for so many years, worshipped him. And this is what Meluha has done to him. To our Princess – the most exemplary Meluhan of us all, who lived every breath of her life strictly according to Lord Ram’s code. This is what Meluha has done to our Laws that make us who we are.’ She was quiet for a moment, her eyes searching his. ‘I am guilty. I took the Somras. I followed the Emperor and, through my complacency and silence, was party to everything that conspired to bring this about. If this is Meluha’s evil, then it is my evil too. My karma. I will pay my debt to the Neelkanth this day, and pray that it may allow me to be reborn with a little less sin upon my soul.’
Bhagirath was stunned. What logic was this? She inclined her head in a half nod towards him, and again began walking with perfect composure back into the city.
Gopal’s voice came from behind him. ‘I know. They all say the same thing. I am Meluhan. The Law has been broken. It is my karma.’
They stood in silence together and watched the woman go.
‘Prince Bhagirath.’ The two of them started slightly, pulled out of their silent contemplation.
‘Yes, Kartik?’ said Bhagirath, turning to face him.
‘I want you to call General Parvateshwar.’
‘I have already sent in a messenger to get Anandmayi,’ said Bhagirath. ‘But neither she nor her husband has come as yet. She will not leave without Parvateshwar. I’m still trying to convince the both of them.’
‘Tell them,’ said Gopal, ‘Lord Kartik and I have invited them here. We need to talk about something that is important for India’s future.’
Bhagirath frowned. He knew that what Gopal and Kartik were suggesting was the only way to get his sister and her husband out of Devagiri, tenuous though it may be.
‘I will go into the city myself,’ said Bhagirath.
‘And, Prince Bhagirath...’ Gopal hesitated.
‘I understand, Panditji. I will not breathe a word of this to anyone.’
They stood in silence together, looking at a city that would no longer exist tomorrow.
‘Excuse me,’ said a voice. They turned around to see a small group of Meluhans.
‘Yes?’ asked Kartik.
‘We left the city this morning but have changed our minds now. We would like to stay. May we go back in?’
Gopal stared at them in disbelief, and Bhagirath dropped his eyes, praying that he would be able to convince his sister to leave.
It was late into the third prahar and the sun was on its way down. This would be the last time that the sun would set on Devagiri. Veerini looked up at the sky as she walked out of the Devagiri royal palace.
‘Your Highness,’ saluted a guard smartly, falling into step behind her.
Veerini absently waved her hand and walked towards the gate.
‘Your Highness? Are you leaving?’ asked the shocked guard.
He seemed genuinely stunned that the Meluhan queen was abandoning them and taking up the Neelkanth’s offer of amnesty.
Veerini didn’t bother with a reply but continued walking down the road, towards the Svarna platform gate.
‘Has this been ordered by the Neelkanth?’ asked Anandmayi, before looking at her husband.
Parvateshwar and she were in a secluded section outside the Tamra platform, speaking with Gopal, Kartik and Bhagirath.
‘It’s what he would want,’ said Gopal. ‘He just doesn’t know it at this point of time.’
Parvateshwar frowned. ‘If the Neelkanth has said no, then it means no.’
‘General, I appreciate your loyalty,’ said Gopal. ‘But there is also the larger picture. The Somras is evil now. But it’s not supposed to be completely destroyed. You know as well as I do, it’s only supposed to be taken out of the equation. We have to keep the knowledge of the Somras alive, for it may well be required again. It’s the future of India that we are talking about.’
‘Are you suggesting that the Lord Neelkanth doesn’t care about India?’ asked Parvateshwar.
‘I’m saying no such thing, General,’ said Gopal. ‘But...’
Kartik suddenly stepped in. ‘I appreciate your loyalty to my father. And, I’m sure you’re aware of my love for him as well.’
Parvateshwar nodded, not saying anything.
‘My father is distraught at this point in time,’ said Kartik. ‘You know of his devotion to my mother. The grief of her death has clouded his mind. He is furious, and rightly so. But you also know that his heart is pure. He would not want to do anything that is against his dharma. I only intend to keep the technology of the Somras alive till my father’s rage subsides. If, after calm reflection, he still decides that everything associated with the Somras should be destroyed, I will personally see to it.’
Parvateshwar stared into space, his eyes brooding and dark.
‘And in order to do that you must ensure the survival of the Brahmins, together with their Somras libraries,’ he sighed. ‘Many of those Somras-worshipping intellectuals would grab the opportunity to live. But there are some who have heard the call of honour. Kartik, you cannot coerce a man to forsake his honour. You cannot force him to live, particularly if it is to continue the Somras which his Neekanth has declared Evil, and which is causing the destruction of his homeland.’
Kartik held Parvateshwar’s hand. ‘General, my mother appeared in a dream to me. She told me to do the right thing. She told me to remember how she lived, and not how she died. Even you know she would have done exactly what I’m trying to do.’
Parvateshwar looked up at the sky and quickly wiped a tear. He was quiet for a long time. ‘All right, Kartik,’ he said at last. ‘I will bring those people out. I will talk them out where I can, and force them out where I cannot. But remember, they are your responsibility. They cannot be allowed to propagate Evil any longer. Only the Lord Neelkanth can decide the fate of the Somras. Not you, not Lord Gopal, nor anyone else.’
Veerini rapidly walked down the Svarna platform steps as all the assembled people made way for their queen. Maatali’s forces were in charge here, checking the papers and antecedents of everyone who sought to leave the city. The soldiers saluted Veerini. She acknowledged them distractedly but kept walking towards the massive wooden tower being constructed a good four kilometres from the city. That was the base from which the Pashupatiastra missile would be launched.
As she neared the tower, Veerini
could see Shiva issuing instructions. She immediately recognised the woman who stood next to him: Brahaspati’s love, Tara. Ganesh was working with Tara, his brilliant engineering skills coming in handy in building the solid tower. Kali sat a little distance away on a rock, seemingly lost in thought.
Kali was the first to see her. ‘Maa!’
Veerini walked up to Shiva as Kali and Ganesh stepped up.
Shiva looked at Veerini with glazed eyes, the now-constant throbbing pain in his brow making it difficult for him to focus. Veerini had always been struck by Shiva’s eyes; the intelligence, focus and mirth that resided in them. She believed that it was his eyes rather than his blue throat that were the foundation of his charisma. But they now reflected nothing but pain and grief, giving a glimpse into a soul that had lost its reason to live.
Shiva had not for a moment suspected that Veerini was involved with Sati’s assassination in any way. He bowed his head and brought his hands together in a respectful Namaste.
Veerini held Shiva’s hand, her eyes drawn to the throbbing blackish-red blotch on his brow. ‘My son, I can’t even imagine the pain that you are going through.’
Shiva was quiet, looking lost and broken.
‘I gave my word to Sati, a promise she extracted from me just before her death. I am here to fulfil it.’
Shiva’s eyes suddenly found their focus. He looked up at Veerini.
‘She insisted that she be cremated by both her sons.’
Ganesh, who was standing next to Veerini, sucked in his breath as tears slipped from his eyes. Tradition held that while the eldest child cremated the father, it was the youngest who conducted the funeral proceedings of the mother. Also, it was considered inauspicious for Nagas to be involved in any funeral ceremony. So Ganesh had not expected the honour of lighting his mother’s pyre.
Kali turned and held Ganesh.
‘But traditionally only the youngest child can perform the mother’s last rites,’ said Veerini to Shiva. ‘If there is anyone who can challenge that tradition, it is you.’
‘I don’t give a damn about that tradition,’ said Shiva. ‘If Sati wanted it, then it will be done.’
