The Krishna Key

by Ashwin Sanghi

  Chhedi continued. ‘Zakariya says that everything of the most precious was brought there as offerings, and the temple was endowed with more than ten thousand villages. There is a river—the Ganges, which is held sacred between which and Somnat the distance is two hundred parasangs. They used to bring the water of this river to Somnat every day, and wash the temple with it. A thousand Brahmins were employed in worshipping the idol and attending on the visitors, and five hundred damsels sung and danced at the door. All these were maintained upon the endowments of the temple. The edifice was built upon fifty-six pillars of teak, covered with lead. The shrine of the idol was dark but was lighted by jewelled chandeliers of great value. Near it was a chain of gold bells weighing two hundred maans. When a portion of the night watch closed, this chain used to be shaken to rouse a fresh lot of Brahmins to perform worship.’

  Saini nodded. ‘Just imagine—ten thousand villages, one thousand Brahmins, five hundred dancing girls, massive bells and chains of solid gold… incredible,,’ replied Sir Khan6D sai’ he muttered. ‘If you go further into the extract, you will read Zakariya’s description of the attack by Ghazni—referred to as Yamin-ud Daula Mahmud.’

  Chhedi continued reading from where he had left off. ‘When the Sultan Yamin-ud Daula Mahmud went to wage religious war against India, he made great efforts to capture and destroy Somnat, in the hope that the Hindus would then become Muhammadans. He arrived there in the middle of December in the year 1025. The king looked upon the idol with wonder, and gave orders for the seizing of the spoil, and the appropriation of the treasures. There were many idols of gold and silver and vessels set with jewels, all of which had been sent there by the greatest personages in India. The value of the things found in the temples of the idols exceeded twenty thousand dinars. When the king asked his companions what they had to say about the marvel of the idol, and of its staying in the air without pedestal or support, several maintained that it was upheld by some hidden support. The king directed a person to go and feel all

  around and above and below it with a spear, which he did, but met with no obstacle. One of the attendants then stated his opinion that the canopy was made of lodestone, and the idol of iron, and that the ingenious builder had skilfully contrived that the magnet should not exercise a greater force on any one side—hence, the idol was suspended in the middle. Some coincided, others differed. Permission was obtained from the Sultan to remove some stones from the top of the canopy to settle the point. When two stones were removed from the summit, the idol swerved to one side, when more were taken away, it inclined still further, until at last it rested on the ground.’

  Chhedi reached the end of the extract. Saini declared, ‘Ghazni went down in history as the most hated looter to reach Somnath. He was fanatical about destroying the Shiv lingam. Mahmud personally took on the task of smashing the temple’s lingam to smithereens. The stone fragments from the lingam were transported back by him to Ghazni. These fragments were scattered upon the steps leading to the city’s Jamiah Masjid—a new mosque that was under construction. The idea was to ensure that the feet of worshippers at the mosque would tread all over the lingam’s fragments as they entered the mosque. The defenders of the Somnath temple had been several Rajput clans—including one led by the ninety-year-old Raja Brahmadeva. But they were unsuccessful in repelling Ghazni’s attack. Eventually, fifty thousand people lost their lives and Raja Brahmadeva had to concede defeat. Many of the Hindus fighting at Somnath escaped by boat in the middle of the night and, soon, the temple was left defenceless. Hence, Varshney’s clue—Raja surrender—the king gives up.’

  ‘Er, I hate to spoil the party but that sentence could just as well pertain to Mount Kailash,’ said Chhedi.

  With the declaration of war, kings from all over the land, along with their armies, horses, chariots and elephants, began to arrive at one of the two camps—the Kauravas’ or the Pandavas’. Some of them found themselves unwittingly sucked into the wrong side. The king of Madra—Shalya—was related to the Pandavas, and arrived with every intention of fighting alongside them. On the way to Kurukshetra he was happy to find that arrangements for feeding his men and animals had been made by the Pandavas. It was only later that he realised that his hosts had been the ,’ replied Sir Khanpossible on the KaliyugaKauravas. Having enjoyed their hospitality, he could not fight for their enemies. He came running to me and told me of the predicament he found himself in. ‘Be at peace with yourself,’ I said. ‘At some point of time they will ask you to drive Karana’s chariot. Whenever that happens, please remember to praise Arjuna repeatedly. You will be helping us by making Karana insecure.’

  ‘How could this clue have any bearing on Mount Kailash?’ asked Saini.

  ‘We know that Mount Kailash is located in modern-day Tibet. When the Chinese forces occupied Tibet, the ruler of Tibet—the Dalai Lama—was forced to flee to India, where he established a Tibetan government-in-exile. Thus, the sentence, Raja surrender, could very well be alluding to Mount Kailash.’

  Saini nodded, finding new respect for Chhedi’s reasoning. Who would have ever thought that the schoolboy Dumpy would one day grow up to be a life sciences researcher, one who could also decipher mythological riddles, thought Saini, smiling inwardly.

  ‘Let’s consider the next sentence of Varshney—Six are tips in a star,’ suddenly interjected Rathore, finally warming to the exercise.

  ‘The original doors of the Somnath temple had six-pointed stars for decoration,’ replied Saini. ‘The doors were taken away by Ghazni and they were installed in his tomb upon his death. There’s a lithograph of Ghazni’s tomb in the book Afghaunistan, a travelogue written by Lieutenant James Rattray. In that lithograph you can see the Somnath doors with their six-pointed stars in the carving.’

  Chhedi had run a search on the internet and had located an image of the lithograph in question. ‘See the stars on the doors?’ he said, passing the tablet out to the others.

  ‘But what exactly is the significance of the six-pointed stars on the doors?’ asked Rathore, humbly.

  ‘Six-pointed stars represent the ultimate union of Shiv and Shakti,’ explained Saini. ‘The upright triangle represents the erect phallus and the inverted triangle represents the female genitalia—or yoni. The intersection of the two triangles represents fertility—the union of male and female. This sacred symbol was later carried by Vedic immigrants to Sumeria, where Abraham was born. The religion that Abraham founded—Judaism—would later adopt a version of this very symbol. They called it the Star of David.’

  ‘Doesn’t it mean that the secret is in Somnath, then?’ asked Radhika. ‘Isn’t this the clinching piece of evidence in favour of Somnath?’

  ‘No,’ said Saini, judiciously. ‘The six-pointed star is part of the natural symbolism of Mount Kailash, too. Mount Kailash is surrounded by six mountain ranges. These are depicted as the petals of a lotus—the symbol of Parvati’s fertility—or the yoni. In that reasoning, Mount Kailash is the phallic symbol embedded in a yoni of six mountains. Mount Kailash is in itself symbolic of the six-pointed star.’

  ‘But we’ve still not discussed the final two lines of Varshney’s note,’ said Radhika. ‘And blue water beside. He then talks of Shankar elated. Could one of these sentences help us decide between the two locations?’

  ‘No,’ replied Saini. ‘The Somnath temple is located on the seashore so it has water right next to it. Similarly, Mount Kailash has two lakes—Mansarovar and Rakshastal—located at its base. Shankar is simply another name for Shiv, and both sites are famous for Shiv worship. Hence the phrase Shankar elated does not help us in choosing one or the other.’

  ‘So where should we head?’ asked Radhika.

  ‘Maybe we should consider splitting up into separate teams and visiting both locations,’ suggested Saini.

  I advised Yudhistira that he should issue an open invitation for alliance to anyone who felt that Duryodhana’s actions were anti-dharma. Two brothers of Duryodhana—Vikarna and Yuyutsu—did n
ot concur with him. Both had been deeply ashamed when Draupadi had been dragged into court. But while Yuyutsu decided to join the Pandavas, Vikarna stayed faithful to the Kauravas, even though his personal views were opposed to those of Duryodhana. Vikarna was among the hundred Kauravas that Bhima eventually slayed, although his killing proved to be the most difficult. Within my own tribe of Yadavas, there were fissures too. The ones under Kritavarma went over to the Kaurava side, while the ones under Satyaki decided to side with the Pandavas. The only Yadava whose position was unclear was mine. Would I side with the Pandavas or with the Kauravas? Both sides wanted me, but for different reasons.

  Priya and Taarak arrived in Nepalgunj, which lay along the south-west border of Nepal, by private charter, along with their guide. The immigration authorities of Nepal cleared them on priority because Sir Khan had contacts at the highest levels to facilitate his smuggling operations.

  They directly transferred to a fixed-wing aircraft, which took them from Nepalgunj to Simikot. Their guide asked whether they wished to take a break before proceeding by chopper to Hilsa—on the Sino-Nepalese border—but they refused. A military escort joined them in Hilsa and accompanied them across the Friendship Bridge to the border checkpost from where their Land Cruiser crossed into Burang—along the southern border of Tibet.

  ‘Keep these with you,’ said the guide, handing over some pills to Priya and Taarak.

  ‘What are these?’ asked Taarak suspiciously.

  ‘Diamox 125 mg,’ replied the guide.

  ‘Great,’ replied Taarak sarcastically. ‘What the hell is it, and why am I supposed to be taking it?’

  ‘It will help reduce mountain sickness. You need to start taking it before you reach higher altitudes,’ said the guide. ‘Would you like to break your journey here in Burang? There is a guesthouse here—it’s rather basic, but you can get a clean bed to sleep in, hot water for a bath and a meal before we proceed to Lake Mansarovar.’ Both Priya and Taarak realised that they were indeed very tired, and chose to take up the offer.

  The next morning they drove along a smooth Chinese highway from Burang to Darchen. Emerging from their Land Cruiser, the guide negotiated for three horses at a discounted price of nine hundred yuan per animal. He then quickly arranged oxygen tanks and ColdGear outfits that would help maintain their core body temperature enclosed within a circle. they Balaramai.

  ‘Make sure you keep drinking this hot soup,’ said the guide, handing them flasks before mounting his own horse. ‘Please also increase your Diamox to four pills for the day. Trust me, you’ll need it by the time we get to Dharmala Pass.’

  Before they could even commence their trek, however, the guide was informed of excessive snowfall near the Dharmala Pass. Reluctantly, the group returned to Darchen, awaiting clearer weather. Priya’s thoughts slipped back to her father as she waited for Mount Kailash to allow them up.

  ‘You need to come with me to Pali Hill today,’ said Sanjay Ratnani. Pali Hill was a posh locality in the western Mumbai suburb of Bandra where all the Bollywood personalities had their homes.

  ‘Why?’ asked Priya, taking another bite of her apple at the breakfast table.

  ‘It’s important, Priya. Sir Khan wishes to meet you,’ said her father hesitantly.

  Priya raised her eyebrows. ‘He wants to meet me? You have always consciously chosen to keep me as far away from your work as possible and now you suddenly want me to go and meet him?’ she asked in surprise.

  ‘Yes, Priya. He needs to discuss something important and he wants you to be part of the discussion,’ said Ratnani.

  A few minutes later, they were driving through the gates of Sir Khan’s lavish mansion. The house was outlandish. It was famous in gossip circles because it boasted a swimming pool that was sixty feet in length and was equipped with an underwater music system. The other most-talked about feature of the house was a billiards table on a gold-plated trestle.

  Sir Khan came outside to the driveway to receive them. ‘My lucky day that I get to see my lawyer on a matter that does not involve keeping me out of prison,’ joked Sir Khan as he shook hands with father and daughter. He was dressed in casual jeans and a white linen shirt. On his balding head was a straw hat that gave him the appearance of a mafia don—very appropriate to his stature.

  On his left wrist he wore a platinum Patek Philippe Sky Moon Tourbillon watch that cost over a million dollars. His feet were encased in soft-leather Stefano Bemere moccasins. In his shirt pocket was a thick Aurora Diamante jewel-encrusted pen, and in his mouth was an even thicker Cohiba cigar.

  Sir Khan had started out as a petty thief, had graduated to feared mafia don, and through years of reading, self-learning and social interaction, had acquired the veneer of business respectability and intellectual curiosity. He ushered Ratnani and Priya into his expansive private study that had a single glass wall overlooking the massive swimming pool, and allowed them to settle themselves on the plush oversized sofa, before offering them iced tea. His butler served the drinks discreetly, and withdrew, leaving them alone. Turning to Priya, Sir Khan said, ‘I specifically asked your father to bring you along, Priya. Thank you for coming.’

  Priya blandly replied, ‘I’m curious to know why.’

  ‘As your father knows, I am very active in the antiquities market. I love acquiring artefacts—the older the better,’ said Sir Khan. ‘Recently, I bought this piece of lead plating encrusted with precious stones. It is said to have adorned one of the pillars of the Somnath temple before it was destroyed by Mahmud Ghazni.’ He held it out to her.

  ‘Lead pillars? Why did Somnath have lead pillars?’ asked Priya, r explorationed to bmefunning her fingers over the very old and rather battered lead plating.

  ‘That’s the question that I asked myself too,’ smiled Sir Khan. ‘We know that it was an extravagant temple in which the lingam lay suspended mid-air through the ingenious use of a lodestone roof, which created just enough magnetic pull to keep the structure suspended. We know that the pillars were of teak-wood and encased in lead plating—like this one—and were embedded with precious stones. But why have golden chains, golden bells, embedded rubies—and lead pillars? Why not gold?’

  Priya and Ratnani maintained their silence. Sir Khan was not a man used to being interrupted.

  ‘The original accounts tell us that there were fifty-six gold pillars that were each encrusted with gems by different Shivdharmi kings. These pillars were studded with fabulous stones such as diamonds, emeralds and rubies. But when we read later accounts of the attack by Ghazni, we are told that there were fifty-six lead pillars. What happened to the gold pillars?’ asked Sir Khan.

  ‘Possibly they were replaced somewhere between the ninth century, when the Pratihara king Nagabhata II reconstructed the temple in pink sandstone, and the year 1024, when Mahmud Ghazni attacked?’ said Priya tentatively, recalling her history notes.

  ‘That’s not possible,’ said Sir Khan. ‘Somnath was at the peak of its prosperity prior to Ghazni’s attack—in fact it was precisely this prosperity that attracted Ghazni in the first place.’

  ‘So what other explanation could there be?’ wondered aloud Priya.

  ‘Have you heard of nuclear transmutation?’ asked Sir Khan.

  Both Duryodhana and Arjuna came to Dwarka to win me over to their side. I was sleeping when Duryodhana walked in. He chose to sit at a spot by my head. Arjuna came in later and chose a spot by my feet. When I woke up, I saw Arjuna and asked, ‘What do you want, Arjuna?’ Duryodhana was angry and protested, ‘I came first, so I should be asked first!’ I was in no mood to indulge his pettiness. ‘I saw Arjuna first and hence shall ask him before I ask you,’ I said. Turning to Arjuna, I said, ‘You can have either me or my army? Which do you want?’ Arjuna did not hesitate for even a moment. He knew that he wanted my strategic skills and not my men. ‘I want you, Krishna. Only you,’ he said. Duryodhana, too, was happy. As a result of Arjuna’s choice, he ended up with my army, thus taking his tally to eleven armies ag
ainst the seven Pandava ones.

  ‘Nuclear what?’ asked Priya.

  ‘Nuclear transmutation. It is the conversion of one chemical element into another. Here, read this summary that I was able to obtain from the director of the Bhabha Atomic Research Centre,’ said Sir Khan, passing over a single page of laser-printed material to Priya. Priya quickly read it aloud for the benefit of her father.

  ‘Nuclear transmutation is the conversion of one chemical element—or isotope—into another,’ read Priya. ‘In effect, the atoms of one element can be changed into atoms of other element.’

  ‘Transmutation can happen either through radioactive decay or nuclear reactions. In the former, certain radioactive elements decay naturally over time, resulting in completely new a hundred and eighty-six thousand miles per secondat on the Kaliyuga elements. For example, Potassium-40 naturally decays into Argon-40, which is free argon found in the atmosphere. In the latter, transmutation can be caused by particle accelerators and nuclear power reactors by exposing elements to neutrons produced via an artificially-created nuclear chain reaction,’ said Priya, reading from the paper.

  ‘It has been proved scientifically that it is possible to turn lead into gold via neutron bombardment. This was the quest of medieval alchemists through the ages. It has also been proved that it is much easier to turn gold into lead through neutron capture or beta decay than the reverse. In either case, results would be achieved by leaving the material in a nuclear reactor for a long period of time.’ Priya reached the end of the page and looked up at Sir Khan in amazement.

  ‘Are you trying to tell me that the Somnath pillars were originally gold that turned into lead because of a nuclear reaction?’ she asked.

  ‘I’m not the one saying it. It’s what every piece of history seems to be telling us,’ said Sir Khan. ‘Do you know that Somnath is built exactly at a point such that there is no land along the longitude that leads from it right down to Antarctica? There’s only miles of ocean—not even a tiny island lies along that single longitude. An inscription to this effect in Sanskrit can be seen on the Baan Stambh—or Arrow Pillar—erected on the sea-protection wall at Somnath Temple. Why is this geographical curiosity relevant? It is only relevant if one believes that the water emerging from Shiv lingam was irradiated.’